#i wake up and look beside me where my s/o sleeps completely covered in blood and gore

[doe-prince]

Lately my dreams have been bloody

[yellowsuitcase]

Intertwined // Draco Malfoy

Request:  Hi, can i request an imagine where Y/N and Draco has been together for a long time but one time, Draco forgot to use protection and didn't care for Y/N in the next morning so she got reallll upset. At first Draco don't understand why Y/N acted like that so he gets angry back at her but then he realises the reason and they make every thing up. Start with rough smut, angst in the middle and end with fluff pleaseee. I'll patiently waiting for you sooo take your time and don't force yourself too much ❤

A/N: I don’t have much to say about this one, I really liked the request, I thought it was really real. Also this takes place after Hogwarts and Y/N + Draco live alone.

Summary: Draco is inconsiderate towards his girlfriend and Y/N is n o t happy about it.

Warning(s): SMUT!!! Unprotected sex, choking, swearing, angst, couple verbally fighting, fluff.

Word Count: 2k

Masterlist

{Not my gif also it’s so dramatic for this lol}

“That’s it, baby girl, ride my cock,” Draco purred as he gripped his girlfriend’s hips, slowly lifting her up and down on his dick. Y/N whimpered, they’d been at it for nearly thirty minutes now, and her pussy was painfully sensitive. Draco had already eaten her out as well as edged her with his fingers. But there she was, bouncing on his cock, wanting to please him. However, after a few more minutes of her riding him, Draco’s grip grew tighter, and he began slamming his hips upwards, pounding himself deep in her pussy.

“Fuck, Draco,” Y/N moaned as she let her legs go limp. Draco flipped them over and was now on top of her. His hand found her throat, and he held it firmly as his hips snapped into her mercilessly. He grabbed her legs and rested them against his shoulders. Y/N watched as he shut his eyes and let himself go, his pace getting even quicker. Loud squelching noises filled the couple’s bedroom, and Y/N could tell he was getting close.

“Such a good girl for me, my perfect little slut,” he grunted, making Y/N whine. She clenched her fingers in the bedsheets and warned him of her approaching orgasm. “Gonna cum again?” he teased. “Go on then, whore, cum on me,” he coaxed. Y/N closed her eyes and focused on the building pressure in her abdomen. But then, she felt Draco slap her clit and found herself cumming instantly from the stimulation. Draco laughed as she tightened her walls around him and scrunched her face in pleasure. He fucked her through her orgasm as his own was advancing. His thrusts became sloppy. Just as Y/N was beginning to whine about the sensitivity, Draco came inside her with a loud groan, his hips pressed flush against her ass. 

When he pulled out, Y/N quickly realized that Draco hadn’t used a condom. “Fuck baby girl, you look so pretty with my cum dripping from your cunt,” Draco breathed, his breath fanning over her swollen pussy. She wriggled her hips to get away from the cool air emerging from his lips, but then he yanked her close and licked a long stripe up her slit, pushing the semen back inside her with his tongue. A guttural moan left Y/N as she arched her back, the overstimulation sending sparks through her body. When Draco pulled away, Y/N expected him to help her into the shower, but she was wrong. Instead, he patted her pussy and flopped onto the bed beside her. 

“Goodnight darling,” he murmured before slipping underneath the covers and turning away from her. Y/N was shocked. This was rather uncharacteristic of Draco. Not using protection and now going to sleep right after sex. Quite frankly, it made her heart clench, and not in a good way. 

Slowly, she scooted herself off their king size mattress and trudged to the bathroom; the soreness between her legs made this a difficult task. Eventually, though, she got inside and immediately sat on the toilet. After she used it, she turned on the shower and sat back down, waiting for it to heat up. She couldn’t shake the confusion and the hurt from her mind. But ultimately, she decided to push those thoughts away and instead focused on cleaning her sweaty, bruised body. Draco’s always quite rough with her during sex, and she enjoyed it, but he had really done a number on her tonight. Maybe when he sees that tomorrow, he’ll apologize, she thought to herself as she rubbed the loofa up and down her arms.

When she eventually slid back into bed with Draco, she couldn’t help but lay her arm over his waist. Sure he’d been a bit inconsiderate tonight, but Y/N still wanted him close. So she stroked his stomach with her thumb as much needed sleep overtook her.

-----------

{The next morning}

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open as she yawned; the bright sunlight streaming from their windows was right on her face. She quickly shielded herself and looked to her left. Draco was still fast asleep. Y/N made sure not to wake him as she got up. Once on her feet, the memories of last night returned thanks to the pain between her legs. She hobbled down the hallway and stairs and made her way to the kitchen. She and Draco had no house elves per Y/N’s request, so they had to make their own meals. Y/N decided that today would be an omelet type of day. So she gathered all the necessary ingredients as well as a pan and began crafting the dish. 

While she was flipping the omelet, she heard Draco coming down the steps. She glanced over at him and watched as he settled into the cozy armchairs in their living room, not even bothering to greet her. Anger began to stir, but Y/N shoved it down and returned her eyes to the omelet, which she found was currently burning. “Shit!” she cursed as she quickly transferred it to a spare plate. 

The sound of a soft laugh caught her attention, and she turned her head to see Draco’s smiling face. Usually, this would amuse her, but not that morning. “Shut your trap,” she muttered as she started making a second omelet. 

“Excuse me?” Draco bellowed. Y/N instinctively tensed but held her ground. 

“You heard me. Shut up.” She heard Draco get to his feet and walk into the kitchen. Y/N’s anger was becoming unignorable now. But she kept her lips shut as he leaned on the counter beside her.

“What’s got you in such a foul mood?” he questioned. Y/N snapped, dropping her spatula on the marble countertop. Her head whipped towards Draco and his eyebrows jumped at the fury visible on her face.

“Why don’t you take a wild guess, Malfoy?” she spat, crossing her arms over her chest. Draco gave her a look of confusion. 

“Or you could just tell me what’s wrong,” he replied.

“Haha, no, I want you to figure it out.”

Draco couldn’t understand what his lover was getting at, and it was making him grow frustrated. “Y/N, I don’t have the patience for this bullshit; just spit it out,” he argued. Y/N shook her head in disbelief and flipped her omelet. 

“The fact that you won’t even stop and think for a second just proves how selfish you are.” This comment made Draco’s blood boil. He stood up straight and clenched his fists at his sides.

“Well, at least I’m not a fucking bitch like you,” he sneered. Y/N gasped, and Draco immediately regretted his words. He could see shiny tears in her eyes as she hurriedly turned off the stove and transferred the omelet to a plate. “Y/N, I didn’t mean that.” She shook her head and fled the kitchen, not even glancing at him as she stormed away. 

Draco kicked the cabinets, enraged with himself. He’d really done it now. And the worst part was he still couldn’t put his finger on why Y/N was so upset in the first place. Surely it wasn’t because of his laughter when she burnt the omelet. But if not that, then what else? Draco ran his hand through his hair as he began to pace in the kitchen. Eventually, though, he stopped himself, grabbed a plate, and started eating. The burnt texture was pretty awful, but Draco forced it down his throat anyway. 

Now with a full stomach, his head felt clear. He retraced his steps in his mind. He had come downstairs, then sat in the living room; that was it. But then he thought farther back, back to the previous night. And that’s when it hit him. “Fuck,” he muttered, dropping his face into his palms, feeling utterly terrible. Could he genuinely have just gone to bed right after sex? Now that he was thinking about it, Y/N’s neck was littered with love bites this morning, and she had looked exhausted. Yet he had done nothing for her, nothing at all. Draco felt sick to his stomach, and not because of the omelet. Without wasting another second, he jumped to his feet and hastily ran upstairs, but not before taking the second dish with him. 

A knock at Y/N’s door halted her tears. She sighed, not really wanting to face her boyfriend right then, but she still wiped her face and opened the door. There stood her blonde-haired boy, a guilty look on his face. “May I?” he asked. Y/N nodded and stepped back, allowing them into their shared bedroom. He set the plate in his hands on his desk and took hesitant steps towards her. It felt as though remorseful tension was in the air, and for a few moments, neither of them said a word. But then Draco lifted his hand and gently cradled her face, making her look up at him.

“I’m so sorry, love. I should have taken care of you last night instead of just falling asleep. And I shouldn’t have called you a bitch or been rude to you this morning. It was completely uncalled for, and I...I feel like an absolute dick, and I’m just really, really sorry.”

Y/N remained silent, simply letting her head rest in his hands. She could tell he was sincere. “I forgive you. But Draco," she started, "I could hardly hold myself up in the shower, and I really needed you. I wanted to cuddle with you like we usually do. And not to mention the fact you didn’t wear a condom, I could get pregnant…” she trailed off. Y/N wasn’t sure if she wanted a family so soon, or even at all. She didn’t think she nor Draco were even close to being ready for such a huge responsibility. But she was pulled from her thoughts by Draco stroking her cheek.

“Y/N, I promise you it will never happen again. You’re everything to me, and I will always take care of you and be there for you whenever you need me. I know I wasn’t last night. Last night I was reckless and a fucking git, but from now on I won't be, I swear it,” Draco declared. His eyes looked fearful as he waited for Y/N to reply. And she did, just not with words. She took a step forward and nestled herself against his chest. Draco immediately wrapped his arms around her and breathed in her scent, feeling at peace, knowing things were okay again. 

“I believe I am due for a cuddle appointment, Dr. Malfoy,” Y/N stated, breaking the silence with her playful tone. She giggled as Draco let her go and dragged her towards their bed. He then scooped her up, making her squeal, before he dropped her onto the bouncy mattress. Her bright smile was irresistible, and he scrambled onto the bed, smashing his lips onto hers. She kissed him back, passionately, happy to be reconciled. 

“Dr. Malfoy shall provide you with the necessary amount of cuddles to cure your ailment,” Draco stated in a funny voice, playing along with the bit. Y/N giggled and reconnected her lips with his, bringing his body close to hers.

And as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky, the couple remained on the bed, legs intertwined with legs and fingers clutching palms. Their hearts were content. All was forgiven. And even when the moon took the sun’s place, they still hadn’t detached from one another. They ended up falling asleep like that. And in the morning, Draco carried his girl to the bathroom, pledging to never let her wash alone again. 

Taglist: @beiahadid @pastelpuffbar @cutie1365 @dracoxmgg @lumlfy @sambucky8 @emilianamason @raplinethereal @dracosdeathmark @xoxohollands @prongsandprancer @ch0kemedracomalfoy @avlauriaa @purpleskymalfoy @mariah-can-dream @drxcomvlfx @sydnee-kom-spacekru​ @dracosgoodgirl @voilawind @gloryekaterina

[kpop-zone]

(G)I-dle reaction to slapping their s/o

“I just can’t believe that you didn’t say anything.”

You scoffed disappointed as you pressed the button to the right floor in the elevator.

“Oh, goddammit Y/N, because it was a joke.”

Your girlfriend shot back exasperated, causing your blood to boil.

By now your whole apartment complex had probably witnessed your fight. Since exiting the restaurant, the two of you had thrown accusations at each other without a cease. It was supposed to be a nice dinner with her friends, but when one of them had made a joke at your expense the atmosphere had started to change. It was directly aimed at one of your insecurities and you had hoped that your girlfriend would stand up for you. But she hadn’t. She had just laughed and moved on.

Therefore, you hadn’t been able to hold back a snarky comment as soon as you had said goodbye to her friends. From that point on, your fight just started building up like a wave and you were sure that it was about to crash at any moment now.

Even in the silent hallway from the elevator to your apartment, the two of you kept yelling at each other at the top of your lungs. It wasn’t typical for the two of you to fight like this- it was probably to blame on your busy schedules. Nevertheless, something told you that this fight would not only have an impact on this night.

After entering the apartment, your girlfriend slammed the door shut and you faced each other with your hands put on your hips. Your duel came to the next round and you wanted to deal the first blow.

“Maybe you didn’t say anything, because you enjoyed her making fun of me.”

You provoked her and you could see how your girlfriend’s eyes flared up in anger.

“Are you serious right now? I’m the one having ulterior motives? Who knows, maybe you only started this ridiculous fight to drive a wedge between me and my friends.”

She shot back, causing you to gasp.

“Please... I wouldn’t even know how to. I’m not so sure whether you would pick me over them anyways.”

Your girlfriend looked at you appalled and you almost grinned smugly because you had finally managed to make her speechless. Using this opportunity, you just kept going.

“How did she even know about my blind spot, huh? Is that what you’re doing when you have your little meetups that I’m never invited to? Laugh about my insecurities? Talk about how much better off you-“

You didn’t get to finish your mockery as a sharp stinging pain in your cheek made you the one that was speechless.

The wave had finally crashed.

Miyeon

Miyeon looked at her hand in disbelief. Had she just slapped you? She couldn’t have; she would never hurt you. But the red swelling that started to form on your cheek told a different story. You looked at her with the same shocked expression and Miyeon wanted to say something; anything at all to make this better. But she couldn’t think of words that were enough. Therefore, you scoffed and brushed past her to storm to the bedroom where you slammed the door loudly.

Miyeon was glued to the spot while her hand was still hanging in the air; her gaze was fixed on the bedroom door though. Hesitantly her feet brought her closer to where her heart was pulling her, but she didn’t dare to go inside. Anxiously she walked up and down in front of the door until she had finally mustered enough courage.

“Y/N?”

She called out, but her voice was broken and almost inaudible.

Her hand shakily moved to the doorknob and she inhaled deeply before pushing it down. The room was dark and Miyeon could only faintly make out your silhouette on the bed. She had wanted to talk to you and apologize, but she didn’t want to wake you either. Therefore, she tiptoed to the bathroom and prepped for bed. When she stepped back into the room though, indecisiveness ruled over her body again. Could she get in bed next to you? Or did you want space?

The hand on the clock almost turned one whole round while Miyeon anxiously stepped from one leg to the other in front of the bed. Eventually she lifted the blanket and crawled under it, although she stayed all the way at the edge to give you space. Your eyes were closed and Miyeon assumed that you were already sleeping. She looked at your features and her gaze flickered to your cheek over and over again. Her urge to reach out and softly stroke it in an attempt to heal the red stain was strong. But she knew that she couldn’t take her action back and it was making tears pool in her eyes.

That night, Miyeon didn’t sleep a minute. She kept staring at you until you eventually started waking up. Quickly she pretended to be asleep and waited till you had left the room. When you were gone, she sat up in the bed and recollected herself before following you. You were standing at the stove, preparing yourself some breakfast when Miyeon silently neared you. She wasn’t quite sure whether you hadn’t noticed her yet or whether you were ignoring her, but the room stayed completely silent beside the occasional clattering of plates.

“I-I’m sorry.”

She choked out eventually, making you slightly jump in surprise. Miyeon’s voice was hoarse and she wasn’t even sure whether you had been able to understand her.

You looked at her for a second without any emotions in your face before returning your attention to the breakfast in front of you. Desperation began to rise inside of Miyeon, bringing tears to her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Please talk to me.”

She stumbled forward while tears spilled to the floor.

Finally, you looked at her and Miyeon reached out to grab fistfuls of your clothes in desperation.

“I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Just please forgive me.”

She would kneel in front of you if you asked her to.

You didn’t push her away, so Miyeon saw this as her chance to express her sincerity. A thousand apologies and promises spilled out her mouth until she felt like there were no words left to express her regret. You stayed silent throughout the whole time. You looked so fragile right now, making Miyeon curse herself even more. How could she have pushed you so far?

“Just give me time...”

You mumbled eventually and Miyeon accepted the chance gratefully.

She would give you all the time in the world and she would make sure that you would be lacking nothing. Whatever you wanted, she would get you.

Whatever was necessary to make you forget about that night, she would do.

Minnie

“I didn’t mean to.”

Minnie gasped as soon as she had realized what she had done.

“Really freaking great where our relationship has ended up.”

You snorted sarcastically and Minnie immediately reached out to grab your hand.

“No don’t say that. This was just a slip-up.”

Her voice was quivering, and tears started to blur her view. Irritated you shook her hand off, causing Minnie to sob.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I promise, I didn’t mean to. You know me. I’d never want to hurt you.”

Desperately she searched for your hand again, but you still looked angry. Nevertheless, you let her wrap her fingers around your wrist while your inner conflict was reflecting in your eyes. Minnie anxiously tugged on your arm while tears kept running down her cheeks.

“Please, let’s just forget about this night. This was just a slump. We can work this out.”

She kept pleading until you let her pull you further into the apartment. In relief, new tears streamed down Minnie’s face as she guided you to the bedroom where you wordlessly prepped to sleep.

Minnie didn’t know whether you were willing to forget about this night as you hadn’t spoken a word yet, but as she was laying in bed, she realized that she wouldn’t be able to forget that easily about it herself. In her head, the moment that her hand connected with your cheek played over and over again. The slapping sound, the pained noise you made, the hurt in your eyes. There were things in life that she vehemently rejected; violence was one of them. She just couldn’t believe that you would ever be on the receiving end of such a wrongdoing of hers.

Therefore, something changed in Minnie that night. Pure utter disappointment in herself was eating her from the inside out and she didn’t trust herself anymore. Who was she if she was able to hurt you? Whenever you were around her, she didn’t know how to behave. She could see that you were trying to overcome this night, but Minnie couldn’t let you close again. For every step that you took closer to her, she made two steps back. She craved to hold you close again, but fear was her constant companion that was pulling her back. It was crippling her and making her have breakdowns whenever she was alone. It wasn’t until weeks later that you came home early and caught her crying.

“What’s wrong?”

You asked concerned and the affection in your eyes made Minnie cry even more.

“I’m so sorry.”

She choked out, but you didn’t understand.

“I should have never hit you.”

Minnie’s body trembled because of the force of her sobs and you wrapped your arms around her. It took her a while to calm down, but you didn’t let go until her sobs turned into light sniffling. You pushed her back a little to be able to look into her eyes.

“Minnie, I can work on forgiving you, but there’s no point if you can’t forgive yourself. You need to make a decision, otherwise, we’re both just wasting our time.”

Of course, you were right, but your words hurt, nevertheless. Minnie looked into your eyes in hopes to find an answer. Would she ever be able to trust herself around you again?

Soojin

Soojin’s eyes met yours that were filled with disbelief. This didn’t feel real. It felt like she had been ripped out of her life and thrown into a Kdrama. She had never done something like this before. If any she had thought about slapping a disgusting sleazebag who had undressed her with his eyes shamelessly. But never you; not the person whose trust she valued more than anything in her life.

You covered your cheek with your hand, but between your fingers, bright red skin was shining through. Soojin needed to avert her gaze as shame began filling her heart. Your gaze was burning on her and she felt like melting underneath it. What words could make up for what she had done? She opened her mouth, but when she glanced at you and saw the disappointment in your face, her instincts took over her body. Without saying another word, she bolted past you and out of the door. She couldn’t feel this shame a second longer.

When she barged through the door of the building into the fresh air, she hoped that it would clean up the mess in her head. But it didn’t. The voices inside of it were still telling her that she had managed to destroy what she loved most in life. Disoriented, Soojin started wandering around the neighborhood. She bumped into strangers as she forgot everything around her; her thoughts were only occupied by you. Her heart was pulling her back to the apartment, making her round the block several times. But her head was keeping her away from it. How was she supposed to step before your eyes? What if an apology couldn’t cut it and you told her to leave?

Eventually, however, her bad conscious made Soojin end up in front of your building again. Before she entered, she went into the convenience store across the street and bought some flowers as if they could fix your broken heart. With the flowers tightly clasped in her hands, she entered the apartment and went straight to the bedroom; her night stroll had taken several hours, and it was way past midnight already.

You were laying on the bed with your back turned to the door. On her tiptoes, Soojin made her way to you and sat down on the edge of the bed. Your breathing was calm and steady, but she needed to talk to you. Therefore, she turned on the bedside lamp and hovered her hand over your body. She was hesitant to touch you again, but eventually she softly shook your shoulders, causing you to grunt before turning your head.

Your eyes darkened as soon as they landed on her, causing Soojin to gulp. But she couldn’t run away again. It was time to take responsibility.

“I’m sorry.”

She said while her heart was beating loudly in her chest.

“For letting your friends make fun of me, for slapping me or for running away?”

You asked irritated and Soojin wished that she could have another take on this night. Everything had been wrong about it from the start.

“I’m sorry.”

Soojin whispered again while letting her head hang low.

Her eyes fell on the flowers, but she felt stupid now for bringing them in the first place. Did she really think that she they could fix anything? In the corner of her eye, she could see that you shook your head before turning it to the side again. Glued to the spot, Soojin kept sitting beside you with her gaze fixed on you while thinking about your relationship.

Had you managed to make it strong enough to overcome a night like this?

Soyeon

“Shit, Y/N.”

Soyeon mumbled as she was pulling away her hand like she had burnt it.

“I don’t know why I did that. I- are you ok?”

You looked equally shocked as her and Soyeon had to fight the urge to wrap her arms around you to comfort you. She figured that you probably didn’t want the comfort of the person that had hurt you.

“Ok? You just hit me!”

You yelled angrily, but Soyeon didn’t even flinch. She deserved your anger. She felt like slapping herself right now.

There was no excuse in this world that could justify her action. Of course, this outburst was to blame on both of your busy schedules, but she should have never lost control like that. The basis of every relationship was trust and she had just managed to break it with one action.

“I don’t know what to say, Y/N. I’m deeply sorry. This is all my fault and I know it.”

Soyeon felt drained. Her head was empty, but there was an anger bubbling inside of her that was even more violent than before. But this time it was aimed at herself. She couldn’t even remember what the two of you had fought about in the first place. All that was left was disappointment in herself. She always thought that she had everything figured out. But now it showed that pride will always have a fall. If she had only payed attention to the details, this whole fight could have been nipped in the bud.

Soyeon shook her head and massaged the back of her nose.

“Do you want me to leave?”

You were still fuming in anger, but she could see that her question had caught you off guard.

“I honestly don’t know what to do now. The fact that I hurt you is unacceptable. So maybe you should take some time and think about whether you are willing to forgive me.”

Soyeon said with a heavy heart.

Of course, she didn’t want to lose you, but she couldn’t bear the thought of you feeling uncomfortable or even scared around her.

“Maybe that’s for the better.”

You answered and Soyeon nodded understandingly.

For a moment, she just stood there and looked into your eyes. A part of her was doubting her decision to give you space. Maybe she should fight for you. But when her gaze fell on your cheek, she decided that it wasn’t her place to press for this relationship to continue. She had sabotaged it with her action and now it was up to you whether you wanted to take the effort upon you to fix it again.

One last time, Soyeon took in your features before turning on her heel to leave the apartment. Whatever your decision was, she would accept it.

Yuqi

The echo of the slapping sound in the room was closely followed by a loud gasp. Yuqi’s mouth was wide open as she looked at you in shock.

“I didn’t mean to do that.”

She exclaimed perplexed while you stared at her blankly; you seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Y/N? I’m so sorry. You know that I didn’t do this on purpose, right? Wait, this sounds stupid. Of course, I did it on purpose. But I mean, I wasn’t in my right mind for a second.”

The words spilled out of Yuqi’s mouth without a cease. Your silence was killing her, and she needed to fill it in order to not go crazy.

“I don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t know why I slapped you. Oh my god, your cheek is swelling. I’m so sorry.”

Seeing the print of her hand on your cheek made Yuqi feel even more desperate. Had it been really her that did this? Anxiously she stepped from one leg to the other, thinking about what to do now.

“Please say something, Y/N.”

She begged you and finally you made a sound, but it caused Yuqi’s heart to break even more. A broken sob left your lips and she covered her mouth with her hand. What had she done?

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Does it hurt? Do you want ice?”

Her rambling began all over again as she ran around the kitchen completely distraught. It took her a while until she had finally recollected herself and walked straight to the freezer to pull out some frozen peas against the swelling on your cheek. Hesitantly she held them out to you while closely watching your expression. Tears were still running down your face, but you took the bag and pressed it on your cheek. Wordlessly Yuqi watched you cry until you seemed to have calmed down a bit.

“D-do you want to talk about it?”

She stuttered and you scoffed in response.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Everything! Starting with our fight. I’m sorry that I didn’t take your concerns seriously. I just didn’t think much about the joke, but that doesn’t mean that I should have assumed that you felt the same. I’m sorry.”

Yuqi didn’t want to let this night end on bad terms.

She knew that she had messed up, but there needed to be a way to clean it up again.

“Please let us talk.”

You looked at her skeptically but huffed in defeat after a while.

You made your way to the couch and Yuqi followed you close behind. She felt like she had talked enough by now, so she waited for you to start. Nervously she fidgeted with her fingers while watching you attentively. This night had started like any other but had turned into something so unpredictable. Yuqi felt like she could touch the tension in the room as it was pressing down on her chest and making it hard to breath. She knew that this talk would determine the course that your relationship would take from now on.

This was her tribunal and she was in need of your amnesty.

Shuhua

The second her hand and your face connected, Shuhua snapped out of her anger and everything that was left was pure disbelief. Before you could even process what had happened, she already stumbled forward and wrapped her arms around your head to pull it against her chest.

“I’m so sorry baby. I’m so sorry.”

Shuhua sounded like a broken record, but there weren’t any other words that could leave her mouth.

Her body was filled with remorse and she just needed to turn back time somehow. She knew that her action would leave an irreparable scar, but she couldn’t let that happen. This was only a onetime slip-up. You were her everything.

Shuhua felt that you tried pushing her away, but she only tightened her grasp. The second you would pull away, you would look at her with betrayal in your eyes and she couldn’t bear seeing that. She never wanted to see anything else than the endless love that your eyes usually held. But eventually you managed to wiggle yourself free and Shuhua met your eyes brimming with tears.

“What is wrong with you?”

You sobbed, causing Shuhua’s heart to ache.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know that I love you more than life itself.”

She stuttered in desperation, but the anger and hurt in your eyes grew with every second.

“You have a great way of showing it.”

You spat out and Shuhua didn’t know what to answer. She opened and closed her mouth to try to find words to make it up to you, but she knew that she had messed up tonight. She should have defended you earlier and prevented this fight in the first place. She had promised you the world and she had failed you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Please forgive me. You were right all along.”

Shuhua tried to backtrack, although she knew that it was already too late now.

“All of a sudden? Forget it Shuhua.”

You turned around to leave, but Shuhua reflexively grabbed your arm. When you winced in pain, however, she quickly let go again and looked at you in shock.

“I-I didn’t mean- I’m sorry- I...”

This was the last straw that made Shuhua lose all composure. She had hurt you again. She broke down to the floor and buried her face in her hands. When the door loudly fell in its locks, Shuhua flinched, but didn’t stand up to go after you. You needed to get away from her, at least for the night. This was a disaster and she didn’t know how to fix it right now. You needed to give her some time and she hoped that you were still willing to give her the chance to fix this the next morning.

[chaeryybomb]

stray kids as anime boys: bang chan [part 1] [part 2]

✎ᝰ┆bang chan as the sports captain

(feat. stray kids && some of the 97liners)

listen

this is the only role I am 100% convince chan will be in an anime

u can't change my mind ᕦ(ò_ó)ᕤ

S O let's get into it

what sports captain is he??

the question should be what sports captain is he not 

d-does that make sense?? HDHS U GET WHAT I MEAN

look chan is build™ with muscles (and brains) he's gonna use those muscles

for s p o r t s

"chan u can't join all the sports club"

“watch me felix”

ya boi tried out for every sports club available in school and he got into to every one of them

THANKFULLY felix made him reject some(most) of them bc chan already doesn't sleep enough

everyone say thank u felix

so chan is in the volleyball and basketball club

and he's the volleyball captain!!!

chan is the secret weapon lemme tell u that

his spikes?? they can BREAK A WALL

so if u see chan practicing spikes pls be careful

avoid him

avoid the gym in general

unless ur asking for a concussion SKSKS

no joke there's a dent in one of the gym's wall bc he spiked too hard

his excuse was "bambam ur supposed to block it!"

"I WAS TRYING NOT TO DIE CHRISTOPHER!!!"

so how does that apply to u dear reader

well, ur not a huge sports fan

u rather stay at home and watch netflix than go under that cursed fireball u call a sun

but yk who is a huge sports fan???

ur best friends chaeyeon and lisa!

well technically bc chaeyeon is dating jaehyun who's also on the volleyball team

and lisa swears she doesn't but obviously she's there to look at jungkook

"y/n! there's a game after school today, and you're coming with us to watch it"

"just admit u wanna look at jungkook and go"

"WITH WHAT PROOF????"

"WITH THOSE HEART EYES LALISA"

"HHHHHHH CHAEYEON, Y/N IS BULLYING ME AGAIN"

Σ(°ロ°) "WHAT DO U MEAN AGAIN??? WHO WAS THE ONE WHO PUT CHILLI PEPPERS IN MY SANDWICH HUHH LISA WHOOOO—"

mama chaeyeon saves the day, "alright children no more fighting" 

"SHE STARTED IT FIRST!"

"FIGHT ME LISA" (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ

in the spongebob narrative voice 2 hours later

u find urself in sandwiched between chaeyeon and lisa, sitting on one of the gym's bleachers

chan and the boys are down there warming up

and u can't help but drift ur gaze to a certain (crispy)blond hair boy, who's stretching at the moment

maybe u were starting too long, but lisa nudges ur elbow with a sly smirk

"ohohoho y/n, what do u see??"

u shove her elbow away and glare at her, "ur about to see my fists in a minute"

the entire game ur gaze was set on chan and u don't even know why

jokes on u reader, it was the anime magic kicking in

up until the second half of the game, u had the sudden need to go to the bathroom and who are u to deny ur bladder dhhshd

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you tell lisa and stood up to squeeze ur way out of the bleachers

ur earbuds almost burst due to all the screaming dhshhd

but hey! u successfully made it to the end

＼（＠￣∇￣＠）／

u make ur way towards the exit when u hear lisa and chaeyeon scream your name

and suddenly the world went black

y/n?? y/n??? oh my god she fuckin dead

maybe u regain conscious for a few seconds bc the last thing u remembered was a pair of feet running and the scent of someone's sweat mixed with cologne

yk the typical anime shit dhsjdjs

when u wake up, ur laying down a bed and ur in a room where u don't recognise

"holy shit y/n, you're awake! lisa go get the nurse!" chaeyeon exclaims from beside you and you hear the door close

you squint your eyes, trying to adjust from the bright light

chaeyeon's face comes into view and she has a worried expression on

"w-what happened?? where am I??" you ask she helps you sit up on the bed

"you're in the nurse's office!"

"why,,, am I in the nurse's office?" you furrow your eyebrows at chaeyeon

"well you see—"

the door slams open to reveal lisa and the nurse

"oh good, y/n you're awake," the nurse smiles at you

she walks toward you and gently grabs your chin with her gloved hand to examine your face

"fortunately nothing is broken but that's gonna leave a bruise on your forehead for a while, you took quite a hit."

"a hit???" u furrow ur eyebrows even deeper if you could sjdjsk

"yeah! you got hit by a volleyball!! you should've seen what happened, the ball went flying like WOOOSH at you and BAM u were knocked out!!" lisa explains with many hand gestures

"it was a good thing that chan boy carried you here, you were out cold," the nurse adds.

wait

Σ(゜゜) c-chan???

CHAN CARRIED YOU HERE???

u don't even notice your face starts to heat up until the nurse looks at you with concern again

she places her hand against ur forehead and says, "oh my, you're heating up, I think you got a fever coming—"

"no! no, I'm completely fine!" you reassure the nurse

you bring your hands up to your cheeks and rub it harshly and slap it a few times in hopes the redness will go away

HAH SIKE UR BLOOD SAYS NO

the nurse let's you stay in the office for awhile, thank god school was already over

lisa and chaeyeon, like the best friends they were, stayed with u and walked u back home

the next morning when u wake up—

━Σ(ﾟДﾟ|||)━

HOLY SHIT THE NURSE WAS NOT KIDDING WHEN SHE SAID IT WAS GONNA LEAVE A BRUISE

THERE'S A HUGE ASS BUMP ON THE MIDDLE OF YOUR FOREHEAD

WHAT THE FUCK

HOW THE FUCK ARE U GONNA COVER THAT UP

U ARE THIS )( CLOSE IN CUTTING UR BANGS AT 7 IN THE MORNING JUST TO COVER UR FOREHEAD* U WOULD'VE IF UR BRAT OF A BROTHER DIDN'T KNOCK ON THE DOOR

"y/n hurry up you're gonna make us late!!"

"SHUT UP HYUNJIN I'M HAVING A MID LIFE CRISIS AT THE MOMENT"

"YOU CAN HAVE IT IN THE CAR"

in all honesty u should be thanking hyunjin for saving u from the future regrets

otw out of the bathroom u curse at hyunjin, who sticks his tongue out in return, and grab one of ur beanies from ur dresser and slip it on

"why the fuck are you wearing a beanie in the middle of summer??"

"it's called fashion hyunjin, look it up"

(hyunjin, snorting) "please, we all know I'm the fashionable one in this family"

so yes, u walk into school with a beanie on ur head, in the middle of summer

it definitely caught weird looks from people because again, why the fuck are you wearing a beanie in this heat???

it's equivalent to having a "I'm stupid" sign taped on ur forehead

u walk into class, already tired from everything and everyone and first period hasn't even started yet!

what a mood

chaeyeon looks at you weirdly and opens her mouth to ask but you stop her

"don't. a lot of people already asked," you groaned, pointing at the black beanie on your head, specifically the spot where u got hit at

chaeyeon looks at you with sympathy and pats your head

when lunch rolls on, lisa basically slams into ur classroom

"why are u wearing a beanie??"

"because I can and it's a free country!!!" u snap at her

"geez fine," lisa puts her hands up

(lisa, mumbling under her breath) "someone woke up from the wrong side of bed today"

"HEY I HEARD THA—"

"OKAAAAY let's go I wanna get pizza bread before it's gone," chaeyeon interrupts aka stopping another fight from happening by hooking her arms through yours and lisa’s* (¬､¬) hnnggg u win today jung chaeyeon

u turn to walk out of the door when u stop in your footsteps

to see the PERSON WHO CAUSE UR FOREHEAD BUMP BRENDA

YES U NAMED IT BRENDA IN THE CAR

IF SHE'S GONNA STAY ON UR FOREHEAD FOR A WHILE

AT LEAST SHE SHOULD HAVE A NAME

AND SHE'S NOT EVEN PAYING RENT

y/n's forehead:

brenda the bump: it's a free real estate

anyways

the three of u stop and stare at chan

like hullo, why u here???

chan coughs awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck. "um, can I speak with y/n?"

chaeyeon and lisa exchange a look and shrugs, "yeah sure," they say and pushes u out of the door

and u stumbled into his arms

again, the anime shit™ working its magic

u immediately push urself off chan and clasp ur hands behind ur back while chan takes a few steps back

"so,,," you start

"oh right! uh, I'm sorry for yesterday, hitting u with the ball and everything"

"oh! it's fine, it really is!" you assure him

"no, it's not! lemme treat you to lunch, it's the least I can do," chan says

"nononono you really don't have to!" you shake ur head at him

"please!" he begs, "I hurt you and I should do something for you"

"n—"

"JUST SAY YES" lisa yells from across the hall

you whip ur head towards her direction and flip her the bird

chaeyeon mouths an apology and drags lisa away, but her laughter rings through the empty hallway

you turn back to chan who's looking at you with pleading eyes

"pleaseee" (´･ᴗ･`)

GOD HE'S ADORABLE

"fine!"

"YAY"

"but!" u wag ur finger at him, "ur only allowed to buy me chocolate milk"

"yes!!" he cheers and drags u off to the school's convenience store to buy you a bottle of chocolate milk

u thought he was gonna get u the cheap one but nO

HE GETS U THE EXPENSIVE ONE

THE ONE THAT COSTS LIKE 3 DOLLARS

FIRST OF ALL, CHOCOLATE MILK SHOULD NOT BE THAT EXPENSIVE

FUCK CAPITALISM

secondly, if u thought this was a one time thing

hAH READER YOU ARE SO SO SO WRONG

it soon becomes a regular thing and every morning, there is a chocolate milk on ur desk with a cute stick it note saying "good morning ♡´･ᴗ･`♡"

GAH UR HEART

and everyday after school, chan walks up to u and ask "hey y/n! did u get the chocolate milk?"

and he will pout if u show him the untouched bottle of milk

so u make sure that u drink it during lunch where he can see u drinking it

and it makes his insides all mushy and squishy

and that escalates to him waiting by ur locker every morning!!

he waits for u by ur locker and when u walk in

he fucking beams at you

the sun who??? u only know a bang chan

he hands u the chocolate milk and greets u

"good morning, y/n!"

and ur hearts does it usual schedule bang-chan-caused-flips

AND THAT ESCALATES TO U GOING TO HIS GAMES

"I thought u hated these things??"

"well I do but chan asked me to come so—"

(lisa, wiggling her eyebrows) "oh chan huh"

"hdshhdshutup"

so here u are again, sandwiched in between lisa and chaeyeon

o wow ur feeling a sense of deja vu

chan spots u in the crowd and runs over to u

"try not to get hit by any balls this time," he grins as he ruffles ur hair

"friendly reminder, I got hit by a ball from you," u retort and smack his hand away

"YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T BRING THAT UP ANYMORE"

"I CROSSED MY FINGERS BITCH"

the coach whistles for chan to get into place and u grab onto his arm, shocking both of u

o wow u got bold moves there reader

"uh, good luck out there," u smile at him

chan's heart doubles over in LOVE and smiles back at you "thanks!"

he runs back to the team, who are all looking at him with a sly look

"so when are u gonna ask y/n out?"

"i'll purposely aim the ball at ur head mingyu"

tbh u don't even know much about volleyball and all u see are balls being hit back and forth

im writing the match based on what I've seen my school's team done and it may be inaccurate pls correct me

sometimes u involuntary wince when u see chan spikes and the ball bounces off the floor bc the other team failed to block it

u pity the floor

it's the last match and both teams are tied

chaeyeon is gripping onto ur arm for dear life bc out of the three of you, she's the only who understands the most about volleyball

both teams are fairly powerful

they have a really strong setter aka lee hyunjae

boy may not look like it but he's strong!!!

the coach whistles and jaehyun serves the ball

jacob from the other team returns the ball and it goes flying across the net

in a blink of an eye, chan yells "mine!" and he spikes the ball with force* hyunjae rushes to block it but misses by a milimetre and the ball bounces off the floor

the entire gymnasium erupts into cheers

and u are pulled up from ur seat by a screaming chaeyeon

they won???

OH MY GOD THEY WON DJSJDJ

chaeyeon runs down to congratulate her boyfriend and u follow in suit

but u run straight into chan's arms to hug him

"congrats!" u squeal as he lifts u off the ground and spins u around

when he sets u down, the both of u finally realizes the position ur in and back away from each other awkwardly

"ahaha,,, congratulations!!" u tell him

chan grins at u "what can I say, ur my lucky charm"

ur cheeks start to heat up again and chan laughs

the rest of the team comes over to drag chan to the changing room, leaving u alone with lisa and chaeyeon

once the boys disappear behind the doors, the two girls turn around to look at u

"what was that???" lisa asks, referring to the hug between u and chan, as she whacks ur arm

she tryna whack the answer out of u HDHS

"STOP HITTING ME WOMAN THAT HURTS!!!"

"NOT UNTIL U TELL ME WHAT WAS THAT BETWEEN U AND BANG CHAN, Y/N"

"it was a hug! nothing more!" u say, more like ur trying to convince it was nothing more

"that was not just a hug," lisa mimics ur voice "that was one of those couples hug chaeyeon and jaehyun does!"

(chaeyeon, pipping up from the side) "she's right!"

"he totally likes you!" lisa smirks at u

 "no he does not!"

"uh yes, he does! jaehyun says so!" chaeyeon says in a matter-of-fact tone

"and you—" lisa points her index finger at u "—like him too!"

"WITH WHAT PROOF???"

"WITH THOSE HEART EYES HWANG Y/N"

before u can continue bicker and PROVE THAT U DO NOT LIKE BANG CHAN

jaehyun comes into view and says "hey y/n, chan is waiting for u outside, he has something to tell u"

[ part 2 ]

[dirthavarens]

Nature (Dragatha)

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Characters: Count Dracula, Agatha Van Helsing, Original Character(s) Relationship: Dracula/Agatha Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Word Count: 7,005 Summary: ‘Because you need to feed,’ she told herself too often. Nearly fifty years as a vampire and she still craved blood at every and any given moment. Vampires were like that. Vampires were like a lot of things. 

[READ ON AO3]

{pt1} {pt2} {pt3}

or read below::::

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

Agatha Van Helsing never lost control .

A lie she told herself over and over. A vampire cannot betray its nature, not entirely, and she was testimony to that. No creature could overcome baser instincts, not when survival was at stake. 

The war had run her ragged, to the point of weeks without rest or proper feeding. She’d steal away for a moment, trying to find blood that wasn’t tainted by the smell of death. The human had to be alive. The dying were always her safest bet, those beyond chance of recovery, those left behind on the battlefield gasping for breath, the life leaving their eyes. 

Agatha discovered rather quickly that feeding from the dying had more negative side effects than it was worth, but she persisted. Her skin paled, her hair thinned, her hunger grew near intolerable. Times like those, she wished she had Dracula in her head, just so she could argue against what would be his very obvious answer of feed. 

She had tried and failed for forty-five long years, and she hardly wanted him awake to know of the chaos that currently ravaged the world. He would have a field day, taking whomever he so pleased. Scientists working to the bone to produce stronger, faster, more effective weapons of mass destruction. Generals and strategists, black operations agents, spies, warriors on both sides, hungry for bloodshed, for justice, for stability. 

Occasionally, she had argued with him, imagining him in her mind as she wandered the camps at night. He’d tell her to just give in, just a taste, just feed on one truly living soul and be done with it. Any vampire with a brain still in their skull would. It was natural for her to be starved, to want every ounce and then imbibe in even more. She was a vampire, after all, and vampires were not as complicated as she had conjectured.

“Something to eat, a bit of company.”

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

  She had been on the earth for eighty-seven years, over half of which had been spent in a state of undead, dracul, nosferatu; A vampire. 

And the death around her, seeping into her bones, reminded her constantly. Every day another bone to set, another amputation, another transfusion. Blood was around her constantly, stale and fresh, and she felt her patience dwindle by the second. She would bark at nurses, throw instrument trays, snap saws in half with her hands. All to keep her fangs from showing, her eyes from flooding crimson; anything to abate the beast she so vehemently claimed not to be.

Agatha drew in a breath as the morning sun crept into the tent, bathing her pallid face in its iridescence. She hadn’t fed in over two weeks. Too many deaths too quickly. Too much work to do, not enough sleep in the world, and not a second to herself. 

She turned to the clock that ticked away at the wall. Six-thirty, a whole two hours of sleep and she was awake again, ready to take on yet another blood-soaked day. Agatha sat up, stretched, and grabbed at her head, thumbs massaging at her temples. Had she not gone through this several times in the past, she would have never guessed vampires could even have headaches. 

‘Because you need to feed,’ she told herself too often. Nearly fifty years as a vampire and she still craved blood at every and any given moment. Vampires were like that. Vampires were like a lot of things. 

An unfamiliar face walked into the doctor’s resting tent, an accented ‘knock, knock’ sounding before a man presented himself. 

Agatha turned her head to take the man before her in. He was little taller than she was, though that hadn’t said much as she was a particularly tall woman. He was young, his olive uniform without stains, life in his eyes, brunette hair cut neatly under his beret. A french soldier, clearly. 

“Pardon, madame. I thought this was the tent of the off-duty doctors. I’m afraid I may be a little lost.” The young man’s hurried speech gave Agatha’s headache no relief, and her thin patience no quarter. The assumption, however, she was used to. No man wanted to submit his life to the hands of a woman when healthy. They didn’t care whose hands brought them back to life, pleading for the pain to stop, begging for morphine, for death.

She shook the thought from her head and dropped her hands into her lap. “No, you’re in the right place. I’m Dr. Van Helsing, you may call me Agatha. What can I do for you?” 

“I heard there was a lady-doctor!” He straightened his posture. “I am Corporal-Major Mathieu de la Fontaine. Please, forgive my presumptuous behavior?” 

At least he had manners. 

“I was to report for a physical, madame. My platoon just arrived, my lieutenant directed me to your tent,” explained the Corporal-Major as Agatha stood. She made sure not to step too closely to him so soon after waking. The sound of a relaxed pulse in such a high-stress environment would sing too sweetly to her. “If you wish, I can wait until another doctor comes by, perhaps?”

She looked him over and shook her head. “No, that won’t be necessary. Why did he send you to the off-duty tent?” 

Mathieu frowned, his discomfort plain on his face. “The active tents are..” 

“Being used for more pressing matters. I see,” Agatha finished for him and the pitcher of water on the desk. “Might I offer you something to drink while I fetch the forms? We don’t keep them in here.” 

“Oui, j’ai soif. But I have the necessary papers here,” he said as he reached into the pocket of his vest. She grabbed the papers offered to her and immediately started reading over them. “Name, date of birth, all of the information you could need down to my blood type.”

“O-positive,” she muttered to herself. Good. He could possibly be of great use, maybe even save lives. “Do you know how valuable your blood is, Monsieur de la Fontaine?” 

“I heard that vampires prefer O-negative,” he joked with a laugh, his teeth still white and all in place. If only he understood how funny the situation truly was. “I apologize, I shouldn’t make such jokes during war.”

“One should always cling to humor, even in dark times such as these. It makes managing stress a little easier.” Agatha smiled at him and directed him to take a seat on the cot opposing her own. She could hear his pulse as he walked by her. Slow, unperturbed, untainted. “Besides, I think vampires would be more likely to choose victims based on who they are and not what type of blood they have.”

She poured him a glass of water, handed it to him, and continued reading over admission charts. He had earned his rank quite rapidly early in the war, but clearly had time to rest between then and now. How that was possible with the Nazis having nearly seized all of France was beyond her, but she would not question it. 

He was twenty-seven, approximately 180 centimeters, 80 kilograms, no visual or hearing impairments. No history of breathing trouble, was vaccinated for Polio…

The more Agatha read, the more she wondered why he had even been in need of a physical. Or why he was even in a war at all. He had a law degree from the University of Bordeaux. 

“Alright, Corporal Major,” she began as she strode to a small filing cabinet filled with extra supplies. “I’m going to have to ask you to strip.” 

His physical went without a hitch, though Agatha could hear his pulse like it was beating in her own ears. He carried an interesting scent, most of the French did. History was important to them, culture, and all of those sweet indulgences she had refrained from in life.

“Van Helsing,” he started as he fixed his beret in place. “That is not an English name.”

“No, it isn’t. My family is Dutch. I guess you can say I’ve lived in England most of my life.” Most of her afterlife, at least. 

“How fortunate for us that you are here. My life could be in no better hands, I’m sure of it. I’ve never seen anyone with such a steady posture,” he returned with another smile before leaving the tent, completed forms in-hand. 

Agatha realized then that she had been holding her breath during the examination, careful not to take in too much of the young man. She did not need to know his plans, where he was going to be, when he’d be alone.

Her day passed with agonizing slowness, each action seeming tedious as she cleaned infections and set up infusions. Infusions. She had to make a note of de la Fontaine, to suggest him to another possible donor, but did not want to imply she wished to do the task. 

By the end of her shift, she was covered in a slew of liquids ranging from blood to she wasn’t quite sure, but it smelled worse than death. And a vampire knew the stench of death better than most. The sun was setting in the sky and she knew what awaited her. She had a full night to herself, a full night of rest, a full night of hunger. 

“Dr. Van Helsing!” 

A newly familiar voice caught her attention as she went to hit the nearest body of water. She needed to feel clean, if only for a moment.

“Corporal-Major. How are you settling in?” She did not want to see him right now, but was polite all the same. 

“Very well, all things considered. I saw you working earlier and thought maybe you could use a drink?”

If he only knew.

Agatha shook her head and watched his smile drop a little. How hopeful and full of life the young were. She would be lying if she said that she didn’t wish he would hold to it. “I’m afraid I’m in desperate need of some form of cleaning.” 

“The baths are usually occupied with the men,” Mathieu returned with a frown, his smile gone. 

“And most don’t mind when a woman walks in, I assure you,” she noted, her words sardonic. Even a four-hundred year old vampire had more control of his tongue than they did. “I have somewhere private I like to go.” 

“Perhaps after?” He was a persistent thing and Agatha turned the idea over in her head. 

While she did not drink alcohol, or at least hadn’t tried to, since receiving Communion nearly half a century ago, perhaps there was no harm in the company of a few happy faces. After all, humans were social creatures and his life would most likely be snuffed out on the battlefield. Agatha had been a friend of death at this point and knew she would be able to handle it should he grow on her.

“Perhaps,” she echoed. 

He gave her the information of where he would be and who he would be with if all went according to plan. She nodded, made sure she stressed that there was a possibility of her absence, and continued her trek away from camp. 

There was a waist-deep creek a couple hundred yards from camp, hidden amongst trees too thick to fight through. It was her private place to bathe, to think, to escape the gurgles of the dying. When she came to it, she stripped bare and sank into the cool water, mindful to not step on any possible life underfoot. 

Agatha closed her eyes and let her chest still as she submerged herself in the water, her body sinking to the bottom. Of all the benefits being a vampire had, being able to lie at the bottom of that particular creek was squarely number one on her list at that moment.

She was still for nearly half an hour, her mind playing memories like films in a theatre. Some were her own, others were his, and all of them eased her tense muscles, an unfortunate side effect of not feeding. She could find an animal, surely, but they provided little energy. There were many ways Agatha could feed. The dying, the sick, those too weak to carry on. She could steal donations.

She wouldn’t. The dying still had living blood, but they were exhausted, often emotional and frantic. The ones resigned to death already tasted as such and she would be sick for days after feeding on the ill.

She considered drinking from the Germans, but she would sooner be staked than dine on a Nazi. To hear those thoughts in her head...No, bullets would suffice. Mortars would suffice. She would sooner let the streets run with their blood than dare to feed from one.

The answer was plain, but she refused. She was more than a beast. She knew herself and understood the rules by which she lived. Agatha had taken an oath as a doctor to help any life in need. She could not feed on the living, she mustn’t, and her fists clenched as she rose from the water. 

Agatha breathed in and opened her eyes to see the sun had at last gone to rest. Dark enough to wash, dark enough to relax, dark enough to sneak back to base without anyone noticing; her clean uniform a blessing for which she’d never be grateful enough. 

She caught sight of new faces as she entered the camp. All varying ages, some clearly lying to make themselves older, others very obviously lying about medical conditions, not that the lieutenant-colonel cared. He had lives to waste ever since the Americans joined a few months prior. Those were the truly fresh faces, the ones ready and eager for blood, for glory.

Their enthusiasm wouldn’t survive the week, but hopefully they would.

She spotted the Corporal-Major among some other new individuals and cursed herself when he met her eye and waved her over. Agatha knew she had belabored her answer, but apparently that had meant little to the young man as he reached down and pulled two bottles of wine from a sac.

“I know we’re not supposed to have them, but I couldn’t resist. English wine doesn’t...settle right.” A laugh, the other men joining in. They were French, too. Mathieu looked to Agatha. “Lady’s choice. Red or white?”

“I enjoy both,” she said reflexively, damning herself. They weren’t her words. “Enjoyed, I should say. I don’t drink.”

“Mon amie!  That won’t do. Middle of a war and you don’t drink? How ever do you settle your nerves?” His response earned him an impartial smile. “You’ll return to your husband a hysterical mess.” 

Her husband?

She glanced at her ring and felt something ache inside of her, overriding her hunger for a moment. The weight pressed upon her chest and burrowed into the pit of her throat. He was definitely no husband. She wouldn’t even begin to entertain such an idea. It was entirely laughable. 

“Ah, Dr. Van Helsing, je désolé,” de la Fontaine’s voice broke through her thoughts and she blinked at him, confused. “You must miss him very much.”

She did.

“He’s probably sleeping. It seemed to be his favorite pastime before I left.” She brushed the subject off, burying the memory of him as best she could before smiling at Mathieu. “Red.” 

“I knew you were a woman of taste. Now that we’ve made the important decisions, I would like to introduce you to some members of my platoon.” 

She learned the names of each man, all coming from different backgrounds but all ready to get back into the action. They were confident, placing much on faith, and as the cork popped out of the bottle, they cheered. 

Mathieu handed her the bottle first, a grin on his face. 

It struck her then, that in the months she had been there, no one once invited her to do such a thing. Naturally, she had patients in for consultations, follow-ups before they were flown out of the zone. Occasionally, a man would wander into her tent and she would be forced to break a finger or two, secretly delighting at the snap of their quick but effective punishment. 

They’d say nothing, of course, lest they compromise themselves in the process. 

She reached for the bottle and breathed the scent of the wine in. The spirit smelled nearly unrecognizable to her, bitter, too harsh. An idea struck her then. This was nothing more than another test. 

Can vampires drink alcohol or consume anything that was not blood?

She brought the bottle to her lips and took a slow sip, letting it soak her tongue before swallowing. 

Her stomach churned almost immediately and she swore she could hear his voice calling her foolish. She handed the bottle back, her hand coming to her mouth, before she hurriedly shuffled away. Agatha bent over, grabbing at the nearest object to support herself as her body purged itself of the wine. She looked to her right, to see that it was Mathieu holding her steady and immediately felt embarrassed, searching for an excuse. 

“Are you alright? I know the English don’t have taste, but it couldn’t have been that bad.” He was a poor liar and even worse at hiding his emotions. His concern might as well have had flashing neon lights pointing to it. Agatha heard his quickening pulse drumming wildly. The rapid tempo of the deep pumps of his heart.

“I’ll be fine. I haven’t eaten since yesterday? The day before? I should have known better than to try alcohol as my first meal,” she explained, not entirely lying. She couldn’t remember the last time she fed. She wiped her mouth as she fixed her posture. “I think it would be wise if I retired for the night.” 

Mathieu nodded, let her go, but did not move away from her. “Let me assist you back to your tent. I will not see a sick woman go unattended.” 

“I appreciate the concern, but I am a war physician and have been through much worse than a stomach ache. I will be fine. Please, return to your men and give them my warm wishes.” Agatha would not be alone with someone so healthy now that her stomach demanded proper feeding, snarling furiously at her. 

He gave a moment’s pause, frowning at her, but acquiesced to her wishes. She could feel his eyes on her back as she walked back to her section of camp. 

The sounds of the camp layered in her mind as she tried to find sleep, turning restlessly upon her cot. Everything within her pushed her out of bed and she sat up, her stare empty as she tried to cling to rationality. Logic could not play here, logic would tell her to feed. Rationality considered the great possibility of consequence.

Her nails extended and hardened faster than she had ever felt them. She grit her teeth as she felt them scrape against the metal, screeching unpleasantly. If she let go, and she knew she mustn’t, Agatha would find herself unable to save herself. She needed a minute. 

Just a minute. 

One… Minute… 

Her eyes slipped shut as she drew in a breath and searched for a familiar face. He was the last person she needed to see, the one who would tempt her forward, let go, release the beast. But he was there, nonetheless, staring at her from the sea, the water to his chest in the grey light of morning. 

One…

Her time in Transylvania. Crimson turned black in the moonlight as it poured in from the small window. The pillows stained as a gurgle sounds in a throat, a cry from another. 

Min…

Jonathan Harker before her, telling her the story of Count Dracula as his fiancee sat to her left. She had been such a frightened girl and with great cause. Her basement, her study, her refuge. 

His memory. 

How wonderful she had tasted on his lips. He had torn through a convent, armed and ready with wolves, but for all the entertainment… She was the unexpected main course. And she could feel his teeth sinking into her neck as if they were her own.

...minu…

His blood on her tongue as she suckled at his wrist. 

Breathe.

Agatha shot up, her jaw unclenching as her eyes opened, and looked out into the night. She had been trying to sleep for nearly five hours, but could not stand to be around others any longer. The glorious stench of blood was too close to her and she would not let herself lose control. 

An animal.

She would find something small, something to curb her appetite enough to sleep. The watch was doubled at night and she would have to be careful. Nothing she hadn’t done before, nothing she wouldn’t have to do a thousand times more before this damned war was over, it seemed. 

Agatha found her escape and took it, slipping into the forest and wasted not a second getting as deep as she could. Gunfire sounded in the background, most animals would be hiding, then. She would have to locate them by sound. 

She heard a heartbeat, too close, too strong, too human.

Too soon. 

“Mon amie?” 

Dammit.

“Mathieu, what are you doing out here?” she asked without turning around to look at him. If she looked, he would see, he would know, and she would have to either kill him or drug him. “You should be back at base.”

She heard his weight shift, a sigh leaving his lips as his heart rate settled. So strong, so lively beneath his skin, she could still hear the pump, pump, pumping away in his chest. She raked her claw against the inside of her palm to keep time with it. 

“I could say the same for you,” he replied, voice neither defending nor accusing. “But I could not sleep and decided to inspect our surroundings, see if there were any vantage points for Hitler’s puppets to have.” 

He took a step forward, misplaced his footing, tripped, stumbled, caught himself on a tree. 

Agatha instinctively turned to help but was drawn to his hand. Bark and dirt may have gotten in the way, but the aroma was undeniable. 

She clenched her fists, damning every aspect of her existence, cursing Dracula to stay in his box and rot. They settled on it not having been entirely his fault, but it was easier to blame him when he refused to listen to her, refused to answer her. 

“Nothing to fret over, ju--”

Agatha was inches away from him, his hand in hers as she inspected the wound. It was nothing more than a scrape but the potency of his blood was irresistible. 

“Dr. Van Helsing?” he called, his pulse increasing. She refused to look up, refused to look at him as she stared down at the red in the night. “Your teeth…” 

“Yes, they do that.” She was caught. “I’m a vampire.” 

She turned to him, sparing him nothing as she released his wrist. Her teeth jagged, eyes red, and claws sharp to points… 

“They aren’t real,” Mathieu protested, refusing to believe what was in front of him. Another Adisa. “Dracula is a fictional character, a silly creature from a picture made to scare people.” 

She brought a finger to his lips, silencing him. “I have lain with the Devil and know him plain. And he is far more terrifying than any film will ever be able to portray.” 

He stared blankly at her, unsure of how or where to move. She could smell his indecision in the air and took advantage of it. Agatha threw him to the ground and listened to the way his ribs cracked beneath her force. She grabbed his face in her hand and tilted his neck, holding it to expose as much flesh as possible, her fingers tightening. His jaw snapped under the pressure, the pain causing him to cry out. The sweet note echoing in her ears as she stared at the artery pounding furiously at his throat.

He tried to say something, tried to protest, but she gnashed her teeth into his skin, sinking deep into his artery and drank. She could hear the snap of his neck, as she pushed harder against his smashed jaw. His life flooded into her, his memories, his dreams…

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

 Agatha gasped as her eyes opened. The light of the day was fading as she lay tangled up on the couch in her study. Dracula’s naked body curled tighter against her and drew her closer, placing a kiss at her temple. She pressed into him, secretly delighting in the comfort of his hold. 

The study was the darkest room in the house, save the cellar, and he refused to sleep in the box of dirt that she, in fact, brought from Transylvania. Her bedroom had too thin of curtains for him to be comfortable laying in while she slept. 

“Everything alright?” he asked quietly after some time of holding her, his breath creeping over her skin as he spoke. 

“I’m fine, just hungry,” she replied and shrugged out of his grip, immediately missing the warmth and pressure of him against her. 

“Nightmare, I take it?” He sat up after her, following her with his eyes as she stood and took a few steps forward. 

“You weren’t listening?” She turned to face him, genuinely surprised.

“Not this time,” he hummed cheekily, his eyes moving hungrily over her form. “You looked exhausted this morning after our shower. I figured you could use some time to recuperate. I did it for fifty years, I won’t fault you a few hours.”

“So you just what? Stayed on the couch all day?” 

His brows knit together defensively at her question as though trying to think of a smart remark. But his face relaxed as he leaned back against the cushions, sighing in defeat. 

Her dream nearly made her forget that she had finally fished him out of the sea. Seeing him stretching against her couch, faking a yawn, gave her all the reassurance she needed. When he stood and pecked her lips, she was doubly reassured.

“What else was I supposed to do? You are the worst vampire in the history of vampires, one dark room, while the rest of the place is swimming in sunlight,” he shivered, repulsed by the very notion of stepping into the sun. She would break him of it in time. 

Her stomach twisted in a knot and she gave an annoyed breath. Ever since she fed from him the night prior, Agatha hadn’t been able to rid herself of her hunger. Not during their short break, where he begrudgingly accepted the glass she poured him, not before she went to sleep, not now. 

Her reserves were well-stocked once she knew for certain that she was waking him, she would manage.

“You could have gotten up, I would have gone back to sleep. There are plenty of books in here to read and I doubt you would have been bored,” she returned, her voice unintentionally sharp. With a breath, she relaxed. “Come, I’m sure you’re hungry and you need to put clothes on. Neighbors are as nosy as old nuns and I don’t need them asking why there’s a naked man in my home.”

“Get thicker drapes.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and she went tense under him, her stomach flipping angrily again. “I don’t claim to be an expert, but I’m certain you’re supposed to be relaxed after sex, joyful even. Why don’t you tell me about your nightmare?”

“No,” she shot back as she opened the door, ensuring that the sun was down before stepping into the hallway. She took the short walk through the hall and stopped at her bedroom door, knowing full well that it was not going to be an easy sight to see. 

However, Agatha had not anticipated the magnitude of the destruction they caused. It looked like a crime scene.

The sheets were torn, jumbled mess on the floor along with her pillows, both stained with blood. The wood of her headboard had an impressive chunk splintered from it and the mattress was just slightly askew on the frame. She blinked as she stepped inside, immediately gathering the sheets and comforter in her hands. There was no saving them, and she’d need at least a new headboard. Maybe metal. 

Had they really been that rough?

Yes. 

Had she enjoyed herself as much as the heat dripping down to her core at the memory?

More. 

The sheets were discarded, they were dressed, and the room was cleaned. Dracula mainly talked about nothing important, trying to lure her back into the bed. As enticing as the idea was her hunger gnawed at her interminably, closing off her mind to anything else. 

“You really don’t feed from the vein?” he asked as he stood in her kitchen once again, Agatha grabbing the decanter from the liquor cabinet. “Agatha, you know you’re starving yourself.”

“It suffices,” she replied, voice even. The thought of feeding from a living human appealed to her less when he provoked her. “Not everyone is as gluttonous as you.”

“Gluttony or not, you’re still feeling my hunger. You and I both know that you won’t be satisfied until you’ve drunk your fill from the nearest vagrant,” he postulated, his hand covering hers around the thick glass container, the blood within swayed. She released the neck of the decanter, letting him take it and grabbed two glasses from the same cabinet. Two, beautiful, crystal, custom designs etched into them. 

He caught them in his peripheral and felt like marble, a breath. He approved. “But you… you, don’t feed from vagrants, do you? Agatha, have I rubbed off on you?”  

She set the glasses in front of him with little patience, ignoring his poor attempts at getting her to admit to something he already knew. Agatha was a woman of logic, she always had been, but the way he stared at her, a wolf, had her clenching her teeth. Her hunger grew. The tempter, the snake in the garden. 

“No, I don’t. I feed from specifically selected people based on health. Donations.”

“Donations,” he echoed, disappointed as he poured them each a glass. “It’s unlike you to take advantage of people.”

A drop of guilt fell through her and spread through her veins. He spoke the truth, but she had little other choice. Either take the bags or risk taking lives. It was simple but felt wrong, not entirely aligned with the urges gnashing their teeth from within. His urges. 

Damn him.

Agatha looked at the fine crystal, the liquid within causing her to salivate, swallowing as her gaze shifted to the much thicker glass of the decanter. While imprudent and nearly uncivilized, the gifts she had made for them--no, just for him, they were no couple--would remain unharmed. She could feel him watching her, studying her, and wondered what she must look like. Her silence deafening as she stood, motionless, her eyes shifting between the glass and the decanter. Self-control or submission.

“Agatha,” he mouthed, letting his breath form her name as it left his lips. Dracula knew what weighed her down, what bore so relentlessly through her, just as he knew the only proper solution. 

With a breath, Agatha shifted her weight and took the glass he offered. There was a glint of surprise in his expression when she moved her gaze to him. He was only six inches taller than her, but he towered over her, the constant abyss that lured her in.

“Cheers.” He raised his glass to hers, his eyes darkening as he brought it to his lips.She was too busy drinking to make a snide remark about his inability to control his histrionics. 

The liquid streamed down her throat with ease as she finished it quickly. Agatha opened her eyes, having not realized she closed them and saw him still watching her. He hadn’t moved, the rim of the glass resting comfortably at his bottom lip, the blood no closer to his mouth. 

“I said before that I was hungry, it is your doing, after all,” she specified as the grips of her hunger made no attempts to loosen. “Go on, I think you’ll find it to your liking.” 

He sniffed at the contents of his before taking a sip. A chilling grin spread upon his lips, jagged edges of his teeth visible, as he brought the glass down. His claw tapped lightly at the glass as he ruminated on the flavors; his smile grew before he finished it, gluttonous as always. The veneer chipping away.

As if she was one to talk. 

Another glass shared between them both and then another, draining the decanter as Dracula probed her, antagonizing the beast of her hunger. He relented only when the container was empty. 

“Alright, Agatha, have it your way. But I still need to feed properly and I’m sure the people are very much alive, war being over and all that. The victorious afterglow of battle is a beautiful thing, fills your chest with so much...life.” His words sent a chill to the center of her spine, splintering off like lightning through her nerves.

“Surely you don’t think I’m going to let you leave to do as you please?” Agatha watched as he turned on the sink, rinsing his glass out and then hers, setting them carefully into the basin below. 

“No, I don’t. In fact, I expect you to accompany me,” returned the Count with a smirk. “I know you’ll follow me if I decide to leave on my own. But I’d much rather have you at my side while the night is still young.”

“A moonlit stroll?”

“If nothing else. I’ve been in a box for fifty years, I need to stretch my legs, get a taste for what life is like. I need information and your bags aren’t giving me enough,” he said as he stood close to her and took her hands in his. The Count’s thumb traced over the ring on her finger, his face softening almost imperceptibly. 

Against her better judgment, Agatha agreed to his proposal, shoving a flask in her coat before they left, just in case. 

They walked for what seemed like eternity, winding up and down streets, through alleys, all in silence. Agatha thought it wise to keep moving, lest she catch an all too enticing scent on the breeze. She thought for a moment, wondered where they could go, and directed them towards the water. The cliffs were a beautiful sight and mostly peaceful. Since the war, it had been a place for the occasional petty crime. Drug deals, vandalization, indecent exposure twice on the same day, by the same man. 

He seemed preoccupied, lost in thought. His silence disturbed her and she contemplated listening in but tucked her arm under his instead. If they were going to be out this late at night, she might as well take every precaution to not get stopped by anyone. She could feel the flask burning in her pocket; craved what was inside of it, despite knowing she did not need it.

She wanted it. 

His pace slowed when he felt her worm her arm between his side and bicep, hooking into his elbow. No one had done that for centuries, not without prompting, not without his opiate, not without the promise of something more. She would never stop surprising him, even as he could hear the dam of her self-control splinter into ever growing faults. 

She needed to feed.

“Have you finally grown tired of hearing your own voice?” she asked when the silence became too heavy.

“Never.” He wore the grin of an alleycat as they walked farther along the cliff. The water below them churned against the rocks, a sound so familiar she was able to tune it out and focus on his words. “I figured you would want to give me a tour to keep me from draining someone dry. But don’t worry, I’ll be sure to drain your stockpile when we get back.” 

“Of that I have no doubt,” she admitted and pulled her arm from him. He let out a breath of disapproval and pulled her back to him, hand tight around her waist. “Afraid I’ll wand--”

She could smell it. 

Fresh, alive, a numbing song in her head as she struggled for control over the snarling monstrosity within her. How could she have not noticed it earlier? How did she not hear, not know? Dracula had been…

He’d been silent. 

“Count Dracula!” She struggled against him as his other hand came around her and held her back to his chest. “Release me at once.”

“Need I remind you that it was you who led me here? My dear, you’ve been sniffing out something to eat this whole time.” His accusation burned like fire at her ears and she shoved her elbow into his chest. “You can’t fight it forever, you know.” 

“I most certainly can, now release me so I can assess the situation. I’m a doctor and there is clearly someone in need of assistance. Stay here. I don’t want you killing a possible patient.”

He gave an annoyed growl and let her go, Agatha sparing not a second to hunt down the scent. She felt starved, nearly mad with hunger as her feet delivered her to the scene, blood staining the ground black in the moonlight. 

A young woman. Red of hair, short and unconscious on the ground. There was blood pooling from a wound in her abdomen. Agatha knelt beside the girl, no more than twenty-five, and began inspecting her, trying to bring her to consciousness. But her blood sang to the former nun, lilting sweet poetry to the beast within her, mesmerizing, astounding, addictive, alive.

Something in her broke, and her fingers entered the wound. Hot, inviting, untainted. No organs had been harmed, and Agatha curled her fingers, tearing at the flesh of the woman’s abdomen, and brought them to her mouth as she heard an agonized moan from below.

Discordant, pitiful, and a distraction as Agatha lapped every last trace of blood from her fingers. She brought her free hand to hold the girl’s--Anna’s--mouth shut and looked down at the poor thing with blood-tinged eyes. “Please, be still. For both of our sake. I won’t be long.” 

‘ Don’t be slop-- ’ 

She shut him out of her mind as she clamped down on the girl’s carotid. With a snarl, Agatha tore it from her neck and descended upon the human’s neck, drinking deeply, greedily. Her hand dipped into the wound once more, tearing it open, wanting to feel as the body went limp from the inside. 

There was a surge of energy in her veins, a gnawing that told her to drink deeper, every drop, every last whisper. And she obeyed, clutching at the open wound, crawling under the skin to be closer to her heart. So shallow, so nearly empty, but the organ persisted. Agatha pressed down, cracking ribs between her fingers as she dug, face parting from the woman’s neck as the blood began to bitter. 

Only when she could feel the very nearly still heart, did Agatha’s hand steady. With her mind in a frenzied haze, she gripped the organ and tore it from the corpse. The final shreds of life that drizzled into her throat were magnificent, directly from the source, not the vein. Her fangs sank into a valve, ensuring the last drops were not spared, when she heard him behind her, a low, approving rumble sounding in his chest.

He lowered himself beside her with a hand at her back, careful to fix his attire as he crouched. Agatha released the heart and dropped it to the lifeless body below. Her eyes were nearly black as she panted before him, blood hot on her breath and teeth covered in bits of muscle and shards of bone.

“You may understand the rules of the beast, but not even you can turn your back on its nature,” Dracula finalized as he reached for her face, cupping her bloodsoaked cheek. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you waking like that again.” 

She was beyond shame, drenched in the blood of another, as she looked upon him. Stilling in his hold, Agatha was unsure if she should lean into his touch or snap his wrist. Her body made the decision for her as she fell back, away from the corpse, and away from him. She swallowed as her eyes befell the horror of her work.

It reminded her of an infamous killer who had stalked the streets nearly sixty years prior. She had caught wind of the massacres in a letter from her detective friend, asking if it could possibly be the work of a vampire or other supernatural being. It was possible, but the man was never caught and went silent after completing his work.

“Pull yourself together, Agatha. You’ve seen much worse than this,” he started absently as he scooped the body from the ground, tucking the heart in the cavity she created. Dracula peered over the cliff, sizing the distance, and let the corpse plummet into the frothing waters below without sticking around to see if it hit the bottom. “There you go. Back on your feet. Feeling better?”

She stood as he turned around and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. It did little to fix her appearance, but the way Dracula looked at her would convince a blind man otherwise. She shivered at the sight, curling in on herself as she swayed between disgust and satisfaction. He was right. A beast can only deny its nature for so long, but she was more than such a creature.

She had to be. 

[maandags]

Eidolon (Angel!Keith x Demon!reader) {part iv}

i have no excuse for the wait except that im an idiot who took this school year too lightly yeet

-- -- --

Summary: Keith is an angel, and he’s completed mission after mission for the Upper Hand, the organisation controlling all of the Above. He’s only failed a mission once: when he was assigned to kill you, a surprisingly charismatic demon. He roamed Earth–Middle Ground–for years before he was caught by the Upper Hand again, and things quickly go south.

Genre: angst. because whats new

Word count: 8.7K

Notes: CW: graphic violence/blood, emotional manipulation - masterlist - {previous} -- {next }

-- -- --

if heaven's grief brings hell's rain

then i’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday

~ Just One Yesterday, Fall Out Boy

-- -- --

You wake up from a deep, dreamless sleep, disoriented and shivering despite the multiple layers you have on and thick comforter stacked upon you. It takes a moment before the events of the previous night rush back into your mind and cloud your thoughts, and you throw an arm over your face, inhaling deeply.

A huge weight has fallen off your shoulders. Last night, you didn't realise as much, your tired 3 A.M. mind already struggling to focus with the fact that Keith--who had been deathly sick only hours before--was up and about and sitting at your kitchen table and eating chinese takeout. But now that you had the quiet of the early morning to yourself you could feel the knots in your shoulders loosen and the lead seep out of your limbs.

You slowly shift your legs out of bed, still slightly dazed. Sunlight peeks out through the cracks in the shutters covering your window, and you cast a look at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand. It's barely 7 A.M. And it's also a Saturday. While that doesn't matter much in terms of noise–a city is a city, after all, and this one certainly is never quiet–your neighbours' kids aren't allowed out of bed before nine on Saturdays, which gives you at least two small hours of peace and quiet.

You stagger to the bathroom and let the hot shower water beat down your stiff muscles, trying to draw out the permanent chill that seems to have settled deep into your bones. It works a little bit, but when you get out of the steamy little cell and wrap a towel around your torso you can feel it trickle back into the pit of your stomach, like an icy worm that's decided to make your body its home. It's more of a discomfort than a true pain, though, so you decide to ignore it.

Your hair is still damp when you pull an extra thick sweater over your head, stick your feet in warm socks and tiptoe your way over to the living room.

Keith is still asleep. You don't blame him–he's still recovering, even though he already looks so much better than the previous night. The colour is back in his cheeks. The dark circles and the hollowness under his eyes have started to fade away. He's still thin, and he doesn't smell too good, but you decide against waking him just yet.

In the kitchen, you put on the kettle and pull open the fridge in search of something to eat. The unfinished boxes of chinese sit in front, half-open from when you hastily stowed them away. You pull one out, sniff it, then shrug as you grab for a spoon.

The kitchen windowsill is probably not the spot a lot of people would pick to lounge on, an early Saturday morning. But you've always liked to watch the sun rise over the tall buildings, and the soft orange glow you're treated with today is worth waking up so early for. You rest your face on the knee you've pulled up beside you as you shovel another spoonful of rice into your mouth.

The orange slowly fades out into yellow, then into blue. It's soothing to watch, and you find yourself slow your breathing and close your eyes as the city wakes up beneath you. Noises of starting cars and motorbikes drift up to your window, and chattering fills the street. People exit their homes, throwing delightful glances up at the sunny sky; unexpected after the heavy rain of the previous night.

You finish your takeout, do some chores around the house. Change your bedsheets. Prepare a change of clothes for when Keith finally wakes up. Open the windows to let in some fresh air. Prepare a cup of tea and claim back your spot on the windowsill. It's a peaceful morning, and the air doesn't feel quite as heavy as usual.

And then there's a rustling in the room beside you, and a crash as–you assume–Keith tumbles off your sofa and hits the ground. A faint groan floats past the kitchen doorway and you try to hide your grin. A couple of seconds later a very dishevelled-looking Keith stumbles into the kitchen.

"Morning," you tell him, rolling your shoulders once so they won't go stiff against the windowsill. He nods at you, dark eyes bleary. "Feel better?"

He sniffs. "I don't feel like I just got struck by lightning and dragged behind a racecar over an especially rocky road. So I guess that's improvement."

You blow on the hot tea in your hands. "I'm glad. Would have hated to have gone through all that trouble for nothing. You're quite the guest, you know."

Keith winces at the words, despite your light tone. For some reason, his frown and pained expression tug at your stomach. "But I don't mind it," you add hurriedly. "I mean–it was my own choice to take you in. I very well could not have done that. But–but I did." Shut up, shut up, shut up, you shouted internally.

The corners of Keith's mouth lift ever so slightly. "Lucky for me."

"Lucky for you," you agree with a grin.

It's silent for a while, and in the sunlight, you can clearly see how thin Keith really is. His shirt hangs from his frame in a shapeless lump of cloth, his trousers sagging and almost slipping from his bony hips. While he does look better–the life has returned to his eyes–he still doesn't look good, and the sight of him makes your guts twist. You point to the fridge. "There's leftovers from yesterday. Grab whatever you want–but be careful not to eat too much. I don't want you puking all over my kitchen."

But Keith has already found the other chinese box, and you show him which drawers contain cutlery and in which cupboard are stashed the glasses. He scarfs down the rice in ten minutes flat, and you shake your head in silent judgement. "I'm going to find a way to make you pay back everything you'll cost me, food-wise. You're in debt, starting today."

He gives you a shy grin, but his attention is quickly taken up once more by the food in front of him. You quietly sip your tea, staring out of the window, occasionally glancing at the angel sitting at your kitchen table.

That's when it truly hits you how much of an idiot you're being.

Last night, it had been late. Five days of nothing on your mind but the thought of trying to keep him alive, and finally finding a way to do so, had left you shaky and dazed. Seeing him up and about after getting used to the sound of his ragged, unsteady breathing floating through your apartment had been a shock.

But now the full weight of what you'd done–and what you hadn't done–crashes into you, and you realise you have absolutely no idea how to feel. The air charges with tension, and the angel leans back in his seat. He looks about as uncomfortable as you feel. Your mind whirls with thoughts, all seeming to want something different–the part of you that's curious where this whole situation would lead and is whispering to you to let him stay; the part of you that's still a loyal soldier to the Below and is screaming at you to turn him in; the part of you that wants nothing to do with any of this and is growling to throw him back out on the street. You shake your head, downing the last of your tea and hopping off the counter.

"Take a shower when you're done with that," you mutter. "I have to get back to work soon. My co-workers are gonna ask questions and I need to be prepared."

Keith nods. Your phone is already in your hands and you fire off a quick text to the shelter's manager to inform him you'd be in this afternoon. You don't know Anthony that well–he mostly keeps to the side and handles potential adopters. You prefer to stay with the animals. Almost immediately you receive a reply: he says he's delighted that you've decided to return so soon after taking your unexpected leave. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the barely-veiled passive-aggressiveness.

"Oh, yeah." You turn and point at Keith with your phone. "You can stay for as long as you need to, like, get your bearings and feel somewhat okay again, but then I'm kicking you out. I don't know if you have any idea of how much of a risk I'm taking here, but–"

"I get it," he cuts you off, and you can tell he means it. He needs to work on concealing his emotions, you think off-handedly. He's an open book. It's distracting. "Thank you. Seriously."

The tension builds until it's almost tangible. You shake your head, trying to shake the dizziness away. "It's–yeah. My pleasure, or whatever. I'm locking the door behind me." He gives a brief incline of his head to show he understands. "All right then. Later, I guess. Make–make sure you've showered. You kind of smell," you say apologetically. "No offence."

"None taken," he laughs. "You're right, anyway."

You make a gesture that's in between a nod and a headshake, then make a blind grab for your coat and your scarf before pulling the door closed behind you and locking it.

The shelter's lights are on, and its illuminated windows stand out starkly in the dim grimness of the gloomy street. It doesn't rain, for once, but grey clouds hang overhead and block the sun, the little light that makes it past them flimsy and thin. You pull the door closed behind you. The little bell above the doorway rings once, softly, and barking immediately pipes up from the next room over. You smile.

"Hey, loves," you mutter to each animal as you pass their cages, stopping here and there and sticking your fingers through the bars to give a furry face a pat, or to scratch a scaly butt, or to stroke a feathered head. "I missed you guys."

"They missed you too, I think," comes a quiet voice from behind you. You crouch and open a cage, plucking out a small cat and scritching it behind the ears. "They've been rather unruly in the days you weren't here. Restless, you know."

"Hi, Tony."

"Y/N." He inclines his head. "Did you have a nice leave?" It's a question purely out of politeness, you know, because he's your employer and he's supposed to be polite. As far as employers go, Tony really isn't the worst of them. But you can't shake the feeling that he's fishing for something.

"I did. I've been busy," you say cautiously, not taking your eyes off of the kitten you're cradling. "Sorry for it being so unexpected."

"Oh, not at all," Tony replies smoothly, sailing over to where you sit and leaning on the wall behind you, "We've managed. It was your week off, anyway, and just because you've insisted on working in your free time before doesn't mean that you always will." But it doesn't take amazing detective skills to hear the suspicious edge to his voice.

"That's right," you say, maybe a little too sharply. You can almost smell Tony's raised eyebrow behind you. "Sorry. I've just–I've been a little on edge, lately. I'll–" You scramble up, depositing the kitten back in its cage and dusting fur off your t-shirt. "I'll be in the back." You have the weird urge to salute, but you manage to suppress it. He's already suspicious, you remind yourself. Don't make it worse by acting weird.

It is a shame you can't spend more time with the animals, but you're not the only one who decided to come in today–it's actually quite crowded for a Saturday–so you get storage room duty and instead spend your afternoon putting away boxes of food and medicine and cleaning products. Emmie, one of your co-workers, sticks her head around the corner of your door at the end of the day.

"Hey. We're gonna go get milkshakes, wanna come?"

Your back screams when you push off the chair, eager for an excuse to cut your day short. "You're a godsend." The expression is actually used exclusively as an insult in the Below, but you find you like the Middle Ground version better. "Let me just grab my shoes, I'll be right there."

Hopping on one foot as you finish tying your laces, you join Emmie, Nirina, Adam and Zach as they stride out the door, Emmie and Zach's arms linked. In the back of your mind you recognise that's strange: Emmie and Zach can't stand each other. A smile curls the corners of your lips. You did miss quite a lot this past week, didn't you?

"We're going to this new place a few blocks down," Emmie shouts over her shoulder. You try to chat with Nirina for a bit, but she's more silent than usual, barely saying a word, and eventually she retreats to walk next to Adam behind you. When you don't focus on it, a black, vaguely animal-shaped shadow seems to sit on her shoulder, but when you look directly at it nothing's there.

Something isn't right here.

The feeling creeps into your very bones, making the hairs on your neck stand on edge and your shoulder blades tingle. The sense that you're being watched, and more–as you realise that with Nirina and Adam behind you and Emmie and Zach in front of you, it almost feels like you're being escorted. Guarded.

"Hey, Em," you call. Your hand creeps towards your pocket, but with a start you remember you left your knife at home. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "What's the place we're going called?"

Emmie turns around and flashes you a fanged grin. Your blood turns to ice. "So Above, So Below." And then she pounces--and pushes you straight through the pavement. You don't even have time to scream.

You lose all sense of direction. Up is down and left is right as you fall, fall, fall through a black hole, Emmie's nails still digging into your shoulders, though you're sure if you actually opened your eyes you'd see they're claws. You try to tug yourself loose, but her grip immediately tightens. You hiss when you feel her talons draw blood.

"No getting away, Y/N dear," she giggles into your ear.

Well, at least you know what she–and the others too, by the sound of it–is. Only Bountyhunters can get to the Below or the Above without using one of the doors or passages, instead creating their own temporary ones. You've travelled by Bounty Tunnel before. It's not a memory you cherish. The only thing you can do is close your eyes and hope it'll be over soon.

When you finally make contact, all the air is knocked out of you and for a moment you see nothing but black spots dancing in front of your eyes. Then you suck in a scorching breath and blink, and the familiar stark white ceiling of the Offices comes into view. You groan, and when you try to sit up, your hands catch in ashy grey feathers: your wings have popped. You flush, already feeling Haggar's disapproving scowl digging into your back. How unprofessional, she'd mumble.

Haggar has always hated your guts–even back when you were still loyal to the Below.

Emmie–except she looks nothing like Emmie anymore–tosses her long dark ponytail over her shoulder and sighs. "That was almost too easy. We were told you'd be a challenge."

"I haven't been feeling well," you reply, voice icy as you stand up and shake out your wings. You don't miss the way Emmie's expression sours and suppress a smirk. Bounties don't have wings, and they'll never stop being salty about it. "Also, four against one? That seems a little unfair, even for Management." You pause. "I'm assuming you got hired by Management."

"Of course we got hired by Management, demon," Zach snarls. He runs his fingers through his hair and glares at you, his fangs growing by the second and soon touching his chin. And then his face begins to change, his jaw softening (though not by much), his eyes growing more cat-like, his lips plumping. You frown, because you know this face. You know her.

Zethrid grins, fangs shining in the white LED light. "Long time no see, Y/N." You give a sarcastic wave.

"Yes, Y/N," comes an icy voice from behind you. Your shoulders tense, and your feathers puff involuntarily. "Long time no see indeed."

Haggar glides out of her office doors, and you feel all the stony calm and resistance leave you in one fell swoop. Her yellow eyes bore into yours, and it takes every ounce of willpower inside you not to look away. She nods her head, once. "My office, Y/N. Now."

"You're so dead," mutters Zethrid as you pass her.

"When I get out of here, you're the first person whose throat I'll slit," you hiss in return.

Haggar slumps in her seat and plucks her looking glass from its stand, making it levitate over her hand and glaring like she has a personal vendetta against it. "If it were up to me, I would already have you burning and hanging from the Grand Hall ceiling," she says, vanishing the mirror in a cloud of smoke. You try to ignore the pang of fear stabbing into your chest. You're gonna be fine, you tell yourself. You're going to be okay. But you find it hard to believe the words.

"But–" the mirror reappears in her other hand– "a certain Prince insisted on keeping you alive." She whirls the looking glass around and it floats in front of your face. Prince Lotor of the Below looks at you with a scrutinising gaze, as if gauging how much you'd be worth on the night market.

"Y/N," he says in a clear voice. You nod, then quickly incline your head in a slight bow. Watch your tongue, Y/N. Watch. Your. Tongue. "No need for that." Lotor snaps his fingers, and you look up again, eyes fixed on the rim of the looking glass, determined not to meet Lotor's. You're afraid of what you might see.

It's silent for a moment, and you keep your mouth shut for as long as you can, but you eventually break. "Forgive me, Lord, but–"

"Shut up." It takes all of your willpower not to cock your head and narrow your eyes in indignation. Lotor leans forward, elbows perched on his desk and fingertips pressed together. His cold gaze is calculating and cruel, and your entire body reels with disgust and hatred. "I didn't keep you alive because I care about what happens to you. Because I don't," he clarifies with a raised eyebrow, and this time you can't keep the grimly sarcastic smile at bay. "I kept you alive because I need you to do a job."

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think I'm the right person for any job." You try to keep your voice light and your fists unclenched, but it's a harder task than you want to admit.

"Told him so," Haggar mutters from behind the mirror. You can tell she thoroughly disagrees with being used as a TV-stand. "There are so much more competent candidates for this assignment who actually want to prove themselves and their loyalty to us." You have the feeling she's talking directly to Lotor now. "But no, you just had to get the one rogue who'll do everything in their power to get out from this–"

"Enough," Lotor says coolly, and Haggar clamps her jaw shut, though her eyes flash with murder. You don't know who she wants to kill more at the moment: you or Lotor. "Y/N will do the job, and they'll do it without complaining."

"You sound awfully sure." You've since given up on trying to be respectful. Lotor might be the Prince of the Below, but you had wriggled yourself out of more difficult situations than these before. You're already carefully plotting an escape.

Because the mistake most people make when they see you is that they underestimate you. They think they have you pinned down, and then they loosen their hold and up till now, that has always worked out in your favour–you know how to manipulate people and you know how to get out of the Below. You know every single of the dozens and dozens of passageways leading out onto Middle Ground, and from there on you know how to hide. You've done it before, and managed to keep off their radar for quite a while.

In fact, the only reason they caught you now was because you had been too preoccupied with a certain angel to keep your thoughts straight. A mistake, and one you won't be making again.

"I am sure," Lotor's clear voice cuts through your thoughts and pulls you back to the present. "There's a contract on the desk. Sign it, and we'll give you the details."

You can't stop the startled laugh that bursts past your lips. "A Blank Contract? You expect me to sign a Blank Contract?"

Lotor merely cocks his head and smiles that lazy smile of his.

And then the little looking glass shatters and you yelp, taking a step backwards in surprise, feeling your muscles tense. "I do," his voice says from behind you, and you whirl around just in time to see Lotor sail into Haggar's office.

Haggar gives a sharp sigh and brushes shattered glass off her uniform. "Do you always have to do that? Those mirrors are expensive, you know. I'm gonna have you pay for them if you insist on making a dramatic entrance every time."

Lotor ignores her, his gaze fixed on you. He waves his hand, and a piece of paper appears between his fingers. It's mostly blank, save for one thickly outlined black square with an inscription you can't read from where you stand, but you know what they say: Candidate's signature. "I'm not signing." But your voice has a tremor to it, and you suddenly feel a lot smaller as Lotor strides towards you. It was a lot easier to disrespect the Prince of the Below through a looking glass.

His eyes flash with irritation. "You will." Somehow, those two words hold more threat to them than all the insults the Bounties threw at you earlier.

But you set your jaw and clench your fists. "I'd rather die. I'm. Not. Signing." You had vowed to not ever help the Below in any way, shape or form again. It wasn't worth it.

"Told you so," Haggar sing-songs from behind her desk, a maniacal glint to her eye. "Just take one of the actually competent ones. Let me string them up."

Lotor gives a sharp sigh. "Touch them and I'll be stringing you up." Haggar pouts and crosses her arms. He turns to you, and the coolness in his eyes sends shivers up your spine. The realisation hits you like a freight train. He's done something. He knows something. He would never be this sure of himself if he didn't have an absolutely airtight plan.

Then Lotor waves his hand again, and another mirror you hadn't noticed before–a looking glass spanning from the floor to the ceiling, partially hidden by a black curtain–lights up, and the image you see has all the colour drain from your face and your heart skip a beat.

Allura is tied to a chair and breathing hard, her nurse's scrubs hanging crookedly, torn and dirty. A nasty cut spans from her cheekbone to her eyebrow, and blood runs down the side of her face. Tears mix with the grime and blood smearing her cheeks. Behind her stand Emmie and Zethrid the Bountyhunters, crazed smiles painted upon both their faces.

As soon as she sees you, Allura lets out a strangled cry that is muffled by the gag strung over her mouth. Her eyes widen, and you rush forward, stopping just short of the mirror's surface, afraid to break it. Your shaking fingertips hover just shy of the surface before you pull them back to your chest. Tears threaten to spill past your eyes, so you push them down and try to take a breath.

"Is this real?" You know how hallucinations work. You know how powerful illusions can be, and you know exactly how useful of a tool they can be in manipluation. It's a tool you've used yourself.

"Maybe. Maybe not," says Lotor's soft voice. His breath washes over the side of your face, and you can feel sick rise in your throat. All compusure is lost. It's all or nothing now. Thoughts muddle and get mixed up in your mind until all you can focus on is Allura, terrified and hurt, sitting in front of you yet separated by a thin sheet of glass and who knows how many miles.

A crazy thought of Maybe I can free her pops up, but you beat it down immediately again. You don't know where she is. You don't know if this is even real. Lotor would immediately order her killed if you attempted anything remotely similar to a breakout. Then kill Lotor, a ragged voice in your mind screams.

"Come, come, no rash decisions now," Lotor says as if he just read your thoughts. His hands ghost over your shoulders, sliding down until they reach your elbows. He gently forces them to your sides, and you don't even have the strength in you to resist. A fresh stream of tears runs down Allura's cheeks, and she weakly thrashes against her bonds, and in the end, that's what yanks you out of your stupor.

Your chin snaps up. "So you'll let her go if I sign the contract?"

Lotor rolls his eyes. "Look whose wits have returned to them." He lets go of your elbows and takes a step toward the mirror, hands clasped behind his back and his hungry gaze raking across Allura's form. She looks up at him with a mix of hatred and fear in her eyes. She's given up struggling against the ropes, but her jaw is set, and her eyes are steely; terrified, but determined. Her gaze flicks back to you and she gives the tiniest shake of her head.

Lotor reels back and laughs, the sound booming within the office walls. He shakes his head, still chuckling, his long silvery hair swishing behind him as he stalks back to the desk and swoops up the contract. "Feisty. I like that. Doesn't have the slightest clue of what's going on but still tells you to not do the thing you obviously don't want to do." He flashes you a fanged grin that makes your blood run cold. "I just might pay her a visit later myself."

"That's Middle Ground, my Prince," you manage through gritted teeth. "I'll find and kill you before you even have a chance to knock on her door."

"That's some confidence you've got right there, Y/N. Keep it for the job."

"I haven't signed your contract yet."

Lotor cocks his head and his grin widens. "Yet being the keyword here."

You turn back to the mirror, scanning Allura for any sign that she might not be real, looking for something that might hint that her image is off. Something. Anything. But your manic brain is running in circles, looking for loopholes that might not even be there, and you know you're not making sense, because the chance that she's just an illusion is there, but on the off-chance that she isn't, that she actually is in danger–

You would never forgive yourself if she were to get hurt and you could have put a stop to it.

"It's possible," you breathe, your hands curling to fists. "It's possible that none of this is real."

Lotor nods as if your words are perfectly reasonable. "True." There's a beat of silence, and his feverish eyes bore into yours. "But are you willing to take that risk?"

Anyone else–any proper demon–would have laughed in his face and torn the contract to shreds, watching gleefully as Allura got tortured in front of their eyes. But you had left behind your demon ways a good while ago, and you had always been a rotten pupil anyway. So you bite your tongue and snatch the contract and pen from Lotor's waiting fingers, scribbling your signature down hard enough that you pierce the paper.

"See, I knew you'd come around in the end!" He claps his hands in delight and throws a triumphant glance Haggar's way. "I told you so."

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbles, waving a hand as if to dismiss his words. She gives you a slightly disapppointed stare. "I was rooting for you, kiddo. Show some spine next time."

You fight the tears threatening to spill and slap the now-signed contract back onto the desk. "All right. Details, Lotor. What's the assignment?"

His eyes flash. Business; there's something he knows. "We received word that one of the Above's most prized angels has just gone rogue." He starts pacing, and your eyes keep finding Allura's behind him–but she looks at you with pity and something that's almost disappointment, and you have to look away before you break down completely. "It came out of nowhere, too: stellar record, followed orders without a second thought. A great soldier." You don't miss the punch behind the words.

"And you want me to do, what, kill him?" That wouldn't be too hard. At least, you think. Your mind is still a bit muddy, but something ugly and twisted inside you is still desperate for Management's approval. Still eager to prove yourself. I can be a good soldier too.

"Oh no, no," Lotor says with a dismissive wave of his hand, "I just want you to find him and bring him in. It shouldn't be that hard to do–after all, who better to track a rogue than another rogue themselves?"

There's still something else. Something he isn't telling you. Sure, you're good at what you do–at what you used to do–but was it worth going through all the trouble just to get you to sign the stupid contract? As much as you loathed to do it, you silently had to agree with Haggar on this one. There were so many young demons scrambling for their chance to prove themselves and their worth–why not let them take this assignment?

"That–that's it?"

Lotor cocks a brow. "I mean, unless you wanted more work, I guess that's it.'

You give a cautious nod. "Okay. So what do we know about this guy?"

"Not much. My sources weren't able to provide very recent information–"

"Get better sources."

"–But what they do know is that this particular angel has been off the map for years. Quite like you," he adds as he raises his other eyebrow. You roll your eyes. "He's impossible to find, quite hard to track, and a very skilled fighter. Rumour has it he's scouring your city's streets at the moment."

You resist a frown. If this guy has been prowling your streets and you haven't noticed, something is definitely amiss. Might just be that you've been preoccupied with Keith and everything that happened around him, but if this has been going on for as long as Lotor is implying it has... this just might prove an actual challenge.

The old feeling of excitement and anticipation starts to run through your very bones again, and you hate the way it makes you feel–energised. As if you can handle anything thrown your way. Ready. It's a feeling you haven't known in years, and one you haven't missed, though now that it courses through your veins again there's no point in denying that you're enjoying it. The thrill of the chase.

But then Lotor speaks the name of the angel you're supposed to bring in, and everything falls into place, only to shatter into a million pieces a split second after.

You see his lips move. Hear the words spoken, though they take a moment to get processed, and when they do they leave behind an emptiness that has you stare at him, too dumbfounded and untrusting of yourself to speak.

It can't be. This must be the universe's idea of a cruel joke. The very guy you'd risked everything for–the very angel that had caused your distractedness and is the reason you were here in the first place–is the same rogue angel about whom you had just signed a contract.

The crushing weight of it settles on your shoulders. All five days of you struggling to keep him breathing, for nothing. The weird excursion to Coran's shop, for nothing. The goddamn chinese takeout you'd bought for him, for fucking nothing.

But somehow you manage to keep your face straight, and Lotor hadn't been watching you as he said it, instead gazing intently at something over your head, so you can only hope he hasn't noticed the lurch in your expression at the mention of Keith Kogane.

"All right." You're almost shocked at how steady your voice is. "Okay. I've agreed. You got what you want. Now, free Allura." Even though your voice is pretty steady, you curl your hands into fists to hide their shaking.

Lotor doesn't move for a moment, and you seriously begin to think he's having a seizure until he snaps his fingers and Emmie lunges forward.

In her hand is a knife, and she plunges it into Allura's chest without a second of hesitation.

You rush toward the mirror, a strangled "No!" ripped from your throat. Your fingers claw at the smooth glass surface and you watch her slump, blood gushing from the wound and staining her scrubs a dark crimson. Your knees buckle, and your eyes stay glued to her form as she convulses, coughs up blood twice, then goes limp. Her head falls back...

And snaps back up, and you lurch back with a startled cry. Allura's eyes have gone red and are shining with mania. Her skin turns the colour of wet ash, and her hair falls out of its updo and cascades down her shoulders, tendrils black and writhing as if they have a mind of their own...

Demon.

Shapeshifter.

Your breathing comes in short and shallow rasps as the full realisation of things settles in. Allura was never in danger. You were right all along. If only you had put your foot down. If only you hadn't let your feelings cloud your mind.

It doesn't matter now. You signed a contract–and there's no going back from that.

Lotor fingers through the file that bears your signature in black ink. Slowly, the words explaining just what you signed start to appear on the sheets, snaking their way along the curves of the paper as if written in by an invisible hand. A steel fist clenches around your heart, and you struggle to stand up, your muscles turned to jelly. The surface of the mirror has gone black again.

A shaking hand comes up to cover your mouth, and your teeth clench down on your lower lip so hard that they draw blood. Lotor flicks his wrist, and the contract disappears. The fingers of your free hand twitch as if they wanted to grab at the file. You level your gaze with Lotor's, and evidently your years of training finally paid off in the end, because in his eyes you can see how passive your expression is. You'd be a good poker player, your fleeting mind thinks randomly. The only thing giving away your current emotions is the hand mindlessly tugging at your bottom lip, and the fact that your breathing is still rather fast.

"Now," Lotor drawls in his honey-coated voice–sugary sweet, sticky, suffocating–and snakes an arm around your shoulders, "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

And you know you should keep your mouth shut, because he is the Prince of the Below, and Haggar has already expressed her desire to string you up and set you on fire in the Grand Hall for every new recruit to see–but on the other hand, you just signed a contract, and that makes you technically untouchable until Lotor has reason to believe you won't be able to complete the task set out for you.

The very foundation of a plan starts coming together in your mind. You jut up your chin and break free from his grasp. "So do I get assignment-issue gear? A blade? A gun, maybe? If this angel is as good as you make him out to be, perhaps I should need some more useful weapons than your average kitchen knife."

Lotor scrutinises you for a moment, then waves his hand. A set of gleaming double blades appear on Haggar's desk, along with their sheaths and long black gloves. Haggar huffs with an indignant mutter of Sure, use my desk as your summoning surface. Don't mind at all. You ignore her and lift an eyebrow. "That's all you're going to give me?"

"If you're as good as you say, this is all you will need," Lotor replies in that smooth tone of his. His eyes glint; he's gotten what he wanted. He's already won.

But that's fine. Lotor may have won this battle, and you need to make him feel like he has, but in the end you'll do everything in your power to win the war. And Lotor just handed you the weapons that just might be able to get you there.

"Fine," you mutter, snatching up the knives, pointedly refusing to strap them to your back like is procedure, instead securing the harnesses to your thighs as a small act of defiance. Irritation flashes in his eyes. "I'll report to you how often?"

"No reports," Lotor says with a wave of his hand. "We don't want to make any potential spies of the Above suspicious. Just make sure you find him, and when you do..." He tosses you a little disk about the size of a large coin, and you startle at how heavy it is. It's pleasantly warm to the touch, and you have a creeping suspicion as to what it is that is only confirmed with Lotor's next words. "Portal pass. Use it wisely."

You turn the pass over and over in your hands, the familiar weight of the knives at your thighs comforting and seeming to pull you down to the ground at the same time. "Is that–will that be all?" Risky words, risky questions–you're going out on a limb and assume Lotor won't have you hanged for running your mouth: he did just pretend to torture your best friend to coerce a signature out of you, so you suppose he has to give you some slack.

He sails to a halt in front of you, face so close his nose almost touches yours, and you have to stop yourself from recoiling. His expression is cold, his gaze calculating–and the smile that creeps up his lips sends shivers up our spine. "Yes. I think that will be all." He raises a brow and throws a glance Haggar's way, which you find comical as he didn't seem to give a solid fuck about her opinions when he used her office as his personal torture chamber.

Haggar shrugs. "I still think we should string them up and burn them to a crisp."

"Yes, Haggar, I know. Why did I even bother." He gives you a lazy flick of his hand, but you've already turned and your hand is resting on the doorknob, when something occurs to you and you cast a look at him over your shoulder.

"My Prince?" The title feels like hot oil searing down your throat, but you expect the words you're about to say require this small bit of courtesy. He raises a brow and nods. "I'm going to kill the Bounties that brought me here." Your voice sounds oddly bored.

Lotor chuckles. "They're no demons. They don't have a place in the Below." It's like his gaze issues a challenge, and a fresh wave of loathing for this Prince washes over your being. "Go right ahead."

You flash a cold smile and slam the door shut.

– – –

You wipe your blades with some wet wipes and discard them in the trashcan beside you when they get too filthy with blood (the store clerk barely looked up when you came in and purchased a single packet of wet wipes and a duffel bag–apparently the average cashier sees weirder stuff than a maniac with bloodied hunting knives the size of their forearms slamming a pack of wet wipes on the counter on a daily basis). Emmie, Adam, Zethrid and Nirina's bodies have long since turned to dust, and you have to work to keep your breathing steady and to stop your eyes from glowing red as the phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder rings.

Allura picks up on the fourth ring. "'Sup?"

It was just a check. Just to make sure. But if Allura truly did just get tortured, you have a feeling she wouldn't pick up a phone call with a simple 'Sup?

"Hey. How was your day?" Your speech comes out slightly slurred, and Allura laughs on the other side of the line.

"Fine. Work, you know. Routine." You can almost hear the grin on her face as she says, "And you? Weren't you supposed to be at work too, today?"

Work. Work feels like such a long time ago--when it was in reality only a couple of hours back. You nod slowly, though it's more to convince yourself than anything else. "Yeah. I was. Some co-workers and I went to get smoothies afterwards. To welcome me back," you joke.

"Did they pay?"

"Yeah."

"Good for you. Free milkshake. I'm jealous."

You laugh, but it feels hollow in your chest. "Hey--I need to run now, but I'll call you later, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Sweet of you to check in, Y/N."

You eye the gleaming blade, running a finger along its razor-sharp edge. "No problem."

After you hang up, you sit back against the wall digging into your back, forcing down the pumping feeling in your limbs.

It's something you've missed, and you can't deny it. The absolute exhilaration you feel when your blades make contact, the thrumming of adrenaline in your veins as you dodge to avoid the blows that four individual enemies are throwing at you. The fear in Zethrid's eyes when she realises she is the only one left standing, and the life seeping from her eyes as you slit her throat.

It doesn't make you feel good, exactly–especially now that the thrill of the moment has worn off and you just feel tired and there's an ache that has burrowed itself deep into your bones–but there's no replicating the rush of power that courses through your very being when you're the one in control.

When the blades of death are yours to wield.

The knives are now securely stored in your new black duffel, and you try and figure out how you're going to pull off bringing two huge knives home without rousing suspicion from Keith. You internally debate whether you shouldn't just find a safe space to stash the duffel until you need it. There are quite a few nooks and crannies you know no one in their right mind would look, but then again, this was a big city. There were plenty of creepier people prawling these streets than the occasional demon.

And then you pass a gym, and an idea sparks in your head.

After casually shoplifting a bunch of sportswear from the nearest Nike store, you return to the gym with the knives in your bag hidden by the copious amounts of t-shirts and trainers stacked on top of them. You get a locker and stuff the bag inside before making your way outside again, smiling at the desk guy as you leisurely stroll out of the gym. The guy narrows his eyes at you–your clothes are still slightly torn and dirty, and you're pretty sure you have a bruise forming on the right side of your cheek, but you don't pay him any mind. He works at a gym. He's seen stranger than you.

But the closer you get to your apartment, the heavier the portal pass starts to feel in your pocket, and the more insecure your steps become. The sun hangs low over the city skyline, but hasn't completely started to set yet, and soft golden light washes over the streets, making them look... wrong. Bleak. Colour in a place where colour shouldn't be. You had just killed in these streets, and nobody noticed.

The thought makes you feel kind of sorry for the Bounties. They would be missed by no one.

You're still lost in thought when you almost hit a door and you snap back to reality. Your feet had carried you all the way up to your apartment. You blinked hard, rubbed a hand over your face and fumbled for your keys.

"Hey. It's me. Did you burn the house down while I was gone?"

Keith looks up from where he sits on an armchair–your armchair, but you understand he wouldn't want to spend another minute on the couch he spent five days on, hallucinating out of his mind–and grins, and your heart does a leap. And then he frowns, and you freeze, and your immediate thought is Oh fuck, he's found me out, he knows everything, he's going to call the other angels and he's going to kill me–

But the words he speaks are soft with concern. "What happened to your face?" And it takes all of your willpower not to break down right then and there.

He puts down the book he was reading and walks over to you, eyebrows knotted with worry, and reaches out to touch your forehead. Only then does he seem to realise how close to you he's standing, and he quickly pulls his fingers back to his chest. They're red with blood. "Let's get that disinfected, yeah?"

Before you can answer, he's already started towards your kitchen. You blink, still stunned, before following him like you're in a daze. He looks over his shoulder and points to a kitchen chair. You plop down, and it's when the weight is taken off your legs that the exhaustion comes crashing into you at breakneck speed, and it takes all your strength not to plunk your head down on the kitchen table and just pass out.

"Where do you keep your first aid kit?"

You vaguely point to a cabinet below the sink, and moments later Keith plops the kit down beside you on the table and plucks out a wad of cotton and disinfecting spray. You don't even feel it sting when he gently dabs at the cut on your forehead and cheekbone. His eyes are firmly trained on the cotton, his dark brows furrowed–there's a little crease between them that your foggy self finds most endearing–and he's chewing absent-mindedly on his bottom lip.

With a shock, you realise this is the closest you've been to him. Ever. This is the first time you can properly study his face, and you can always blame your muddy mind later if he brings up how blatantly you were staring at him, so you let yourself drink in every feature of his face. You find yourself drawn to his eyes most; they're a stunning deep violet, the colour of the sky at twilight, when the sun has just set and the last rays of light streak the heavens with purple. Most of all, they're soft with concern and simultaneously fierce with a kind of fire you haven't seen on him before.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened?" you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Keith's eyes briefly flicker to yours, and he gives an awkward shrug before going back to gently rubbing at your wounds. "It's none of my business. You haven't asked me about what I was doing on Middle Ground in the first place, and I won't stick my nose into what doesn't concern me." But the words sound like he's reciting them; like a lesson he learned at school. You can see in his eyes that he is in fact curious, but also that he isn't going to press further. How very angelic of him.

You purse your lips, fingering the portal pass in your jacket pocket.

Your mind is a jumble of thoughts, like someone took all your emotions and threw them in a blender. Every moment you spend with Keith in your kitchen–how is it you always end up in the kitchen?–you grow more sure that you can't turn him in. But the contract pulls at your insides, and you know that if you keep ignoring its contents it will keep gnawing at you until you can't take it anymore and snap.

The contract is the contract. Binding and eternal.

"Keith."

His hand freezes, and you carefully guide it to the table, gently forcing him to put down the cotton. "Thank you, really. But I'm okay. I promise."

He nods. Slowly. "Okay."

And oh, how you want to wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips against his, but that would make things a thousand times more complicated than they already are–

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop. It's the exhaustion talking, you firmly tell yourself, before you yank your fingers back and stand. You're a bit wobbly, but you manage. Keith wisely doesn't attempt to help you, but you can feel his eyes boring into your back as you make your way to your bedroom.

You change. You brush your teeth. You splash some water in your face to clear your head. Everything happens in a haze, your mind too tired to think about anything at all.

But then your eye falls on a piece of paper resting on your pillow. You frown and pick it up, and your eyes widen when you recognise your own scraggly handwriting littering the little parchment card. A hand flies up to your mouth to muffle your startled scream, and you drop the card as if it just burned your fingertips, though your eyes stay glued to its surface.

The words I want Keith to be okay stare back up at you, and with every passing second your breathing gets quicker and more ragged. Your fingers tingle, and as you draw a tentative breath you sink down onto the mattress. Your fingers tingle, but they tingle with warmth, and the feeling is not unpleasant.

Where Keith's own skin brushed yours, the chill that had seeped into your very core and had burrowed there for days, leaving you in a constant state of stiff cold, dissipated. The feeling is so weirdly foreign after having only felt cold for days that you dumbly stare out into nothingness, trying to shake the heat out of your hand. It doesn't work. It feels good, and you want more of it.

For a moment, the contract leaves your mind, replaced by Keith's eyes, the way he'd looked up at you, all softness and worry; the gentleness of his fingers as they cleaned the shallow cuts on your face. You close your eyes and lean back, the little parchment card on the floor seeming to beg for your attention. You never knew paper could be this loud.

For just a moment, you allow yourself to think of Keith and not just see an angel–but something more.

[aizawadeservesanaward]

Shigraki with a crazy scientist S/O

I got inspired to write this after listening to this song on Spotify. In my mind I was like, how cute would it be if Shiggy had a S/O that was in the LoV but was just this completely insane scientist. So here goes my first time writing for Shigadusty-

Reader's Gender: Gender-neautral

Warnings: Mentions of dead animals and humans, sadism, blood, murder, drugging, and slight Masochism (it's only there if you squint)

Song that inspired this:

When you first joined the Leauge Shigraki wanted nothing to do with you.

Saw you as a more annoying version of Toga due to your hyperactive personality and they way that you always mumbled things under your breath whenever you weren't engaging in a full on conversation.

You took a liking to Tomura for whatever reason and would follow him around whenever you weren't experimenting.

He did not like this what so ever and would always threaten to decay you.

Would get flustered when you'd just smirk and go "Do it~".

After a while he just got used to you following him around like a puppy dog.

It is what it is man.

He fell in love with you when he saw you repeatedly stab a man in the chest with a scalpel after you overheard him say 'science is nothing but fiction and all scientist are frauds' then drag him to an alley way, cut off the pieces of skin you touched so your finger prints wouldn't be traced and dump him in the trash.

His heart sure went 'Doki Doki'.

He looked at you, looked at the dumpster and then looked back at you before flatly saying.

"That was insanely hot, and you're mine now"

Not the best way to ask someone out but baby boy didn't know, he's new to this.

Good thing you took the hint, and boy were you thrilled!

First time you two tried sleeping in the same bed together you were covered in blood from one of the experiments you conducted and attempted to get into Shigaraki's bed but he stopped you.

"You're showering before you even think about getting into my bed. I don't want blood all over my sheets" "Nooo, I don't waaaaaannnnnaaaa"

After several times of you refusing and him almost getting stabbed when he tried to force you into the shower, he just put you back in your room and went back to his. He was disappointed though, he kinda wanted to sleep with you. (Not in that way you perverted fecks)

Second time you two actually got to sleep in the same bed. You walked in completely blood free and threw yourself onto your dusty boyfriend's bed.

He scolded you for your actions but shut up when you started cuddling him.

Is this love and affection?

Fell asleep but would wake you every time you moved, after you attempted to stab him when he tried to make you take a shower he's been paranoid that'll you'll try when he's sleeping.

Poor baby didn't get any sleep.

After you two started sleeping together more often his paranoia started fading and he began to feel safe in your hold, yearning for it whenever you would leave early in the morning to go find a new victim test subject while the cops and pros were still waking up and a lot of them weren't on duty yet and the ones that are were already heading home.

He'll be right there as soon as you come back to the hideout with two bodies slung over both shoulders.

Shiggy will sit there and watch you go through with your sadistic experiments on either a human or an animal.

Acts like your psychotic experiments don't freak him the fuck out.

They do.

Low-key likes helping you do experiments though, makes him feel smart and important.

Gets a bit uneasy when you start cackling out of nowhere as you tear through your 'test subject'

How can someone who looks so pure and geeky be so sadistic and crazy?

Asked you one day why you do what you do. Is it for some person, sadistic gain? Or were you actually trying to figure something scientific out?

Surprised when you tell him that you're actually trying to figure where and how quirks manifest, how they work and what things certain quirks can handle.

"Ok, but why do you kill them after you do your notes and shit?" "They know too much by then, plus, I can take their blood and give it to Toga so she has more people to turn into and the organs may help the Leauge in the future"

You may be crazy but, fuck were you smart.

Asked why you experimented on animals if they didn't have quirks, you said "For fun and stress relief of course"

Yeah, he may be evil but he ain't about to let you literally murder an innocent animal just for shits and giggles.

Makes sure you're far away from animals as possible.

Told Toga to hide her vampire bat whenever you went into her room.

Sometimes you'll start having what Spinner dubbed 'Crazy fits' where you just cackle at random ass times, ramble on and on about jack shit, and try attacking someone from the Leauge with a knife.

Mainly Dabi.

And for that reason, it turns Tomura on.

He doesn't know why, but seeing you completely lose your shit gets him going and makes him love you even more, cause even the craziest crazies have an even crazier side and that makes him feel more... normal, if that makes sense.

You honestly give Toga and Twice a run for their money with how crazy you are during that period of time.

When you two are out in public, Shigraki makes sure you don't stray to far from him unless you see someone who would be a good test subject. Even then, he still follows you to make sure everything goes smoothly.

Any guy looks at you and Shigraki will make them a pile of ash, your his crazy scientist, no body elses.

Same goes for you, be it guy or girl, if anyone looks at your Shiggy they'll end up being a volunteer for your experiments.

When Tomura throws a temper tantrum you're right there to calm him down...with a syringe.

Wakes up in his bed with you snuggled up next to him but has no recollection of how he got there.

Loves you with all his dusty heart but at the same time fears you may snap one day and try to murder him.

If he says that out loud while talking with you, your face will darken and you'll lean forward, lips grazing his ear before whispering.

"The more you fear me, the more reasons I'll give you to fear me"

Whoop, now he's turned on.

You are the Bonnie and Clyde of Japan and damn does it feel good.

At the end of the day, even if you two are both insane villains, you both have a heart that beats for the other. Shigaraki truly does love you and sees you as the only person he can trust besides AOF. And you? Well, you see this dusty boy as someone who actually accepts your crazy and psychotic ways, and you love him dearly for that. Even if you do want to murder him sometimes and take out his organs, but hey, that's just how you are.

💜Maddox💜

[strangely-constructed-soul]

Not My Enemy Chapter II

Fic Masterlist/ Main Masterlist

The darkness had always been merciful, thought Rhys as it finally freed him from its grasp. Light swam behind his closed eyelids, so he risked cracking them open to get a glimpse of his surroundings. He was in his bedroom, but something was different. The curtains were open, for one, but that wasn’t what knocked the breath out of Rhys’s lungs. He turned his head to the side to see Feyre, completely passed out on top of the covers on the other side of the bed. She had curled up near him in her sleep, her waking tendency to dislike him was forgotten. He sighed as her head rested completely against his shoulder. She smiled at something she was dreaming about, and Rhys couldn’t help but wonder what had succeeded in making her happy when he’d seldom been able to after she arrived here. His answer came to him as a single word, whispered in a release of breath from Feyre’s mouth:

“Rhys,”

Feyre

Keeping up the façade of disliking Rhys had become difficult for Feyre. He was completely adorable, and for someone who was paid to sneak into places and “make people disappear”, he was incredibly dorky. The first morning when she woke up, he was already awake, and could be found in the kitchen making delicious Mickey Mouse pancakes, and humming cheesy 80’s pop hits. Once, she had even caught him singing ABBA’s ‘Waterloo’ into a spatula. When she asked him about the pancakes, he shrugged and said, “You have been through a lot lately, and breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Need I continue, Darling?”

She couldn’t help rolling her eyes. She turned around before he could see that he had made her smile. She then retreated to her room, wordlessly marveling that he had managed to make her actually smile when she hadn’t been able to in months.

His dorkiness was the least of her problems, though. He was undeniably attractive, that much was obvious. His attractiveness hadn’t been an issue. Until she’d accidentally walked in on him in the shower. She hadn’t meant to, of course. She’d had earbuds in, and he’d forgotten to lock the door. She hadn’t seen… everything, but she’d seen too much of his strong shoulders, toned abdomen, and powerful legs to get him out of her head. He had kept her up at night thinking about him, water dripping over his pectorals, and trailing further down.

She shuddered at the thought. For some reason, everything felt foggy. Feyre didn’t realize that she’d been dreaming until hands gently shook her awake.

“Feyre, wake up.” It was Rhys. Feyre’s shoulders shot up straight in the bed. She groaned as her head spun from the sudden movement and from waking up from a much needed nap. He was lying next to her on the bed, leaning slightly over her. There was a grim expression on his face, and if Feyre didn’t know better… she’d have thought she saw longing flash in his eyes tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

“Morning, Rhys,” Feyre murmured as he leaned back into his pillow. They were in his room, she realized as she took in the gray walls and lightly colored wood furniture.

“How long was I out?” He sounded a bit breathless.

“Five days,” His eyes went wide as she continued, “You lost a lot of blood, and I- I was afraid you weren’t going to make it.”

“You were afraid for me?” He placed a hand on his chest in mock bewilderment.

“Ha ha. You should have told me where you were going.”

“Would you have let me go alone if I’d told you? Feyre paused and gave him a look that said, Of course I would have come with you if I’d known. He sighed and ran a hand down his face before continuing, “I know it was wrong of me to go after them. God, Feyre, I know. I should have waited for Mor and the others to get here, but I can’t stand that you wake up most nights from nightmares about him. I can’t stand that she still haunts me day and night.” He looked so guilty, even though he was just trying to help them both.

She tentatively wrapped her arms around him, careful of his still wounded arm. He hugged her back with his uninjured arm, and he buried his head into the crook of her neck, murmuring “I’m so sorry,” over and over. She traced soothing circles onto his back.

She accidentally brushed the skin on his lower back where his shirt had ridden up. Feyre immediately pulled away, mumbling an apology and said something about getting them both something to eat.

“Feyre?” Rhys asked her as she reached the doorway.

“Yes.”

“I thought you hated me.” He whispered, voice full of both dread and hope.

“I did. I do still sometimes, but only when you’re being a prick,” He laughed at that.

“Fair enough. Does this mean we’re friends now?” She gave him a wicked grin.

“You bet it does, Bat Boy,”

“That’s Batman to you,” He teased.

She flipped him an obscene gesture behind her back before murmuring, “Prick,” under her breath and went off in search of food from the cabinet.

Rhys

The phone beside the bed rang and Rhys yelled, “I’ll get it, it’s probably Mor!” He picked up the old fashioned 80’s phone and twisted the cord around his finger.

“Hello,” He greeted the person on the other line. He felt the blood drain from his face when he heard the other person speak.

“Ah, Rhysand, always a pleasure. It seems Feyre Archeron is living with you now, how nice for you. Now, here is what I want,” Alarm bells started blaring in Rhys’s head at the familiarity of the voice on the other line. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Rhys, who is it?” Feyre had a tray with what looked to be two bowls of Spaghetti O’s placed on top of it. Rhys covered the speaker of the phone by placing it against his chest. Rhys knew how pale he must’ve looked.

“It’s Hybern.”

=================================

A/N: I finally finished this! Okay, so I had a bad start to the week and was super busy, but I finally got time for this. Yes, it’s really fluffy and probably not great, but shit’s about to get real. Anyways, hopefully nobody was too disappointed in this chapter(I think Rhys is cute AF though). Let me know if you wanna be tagged or would like a masterlist for this fic :)

Tag list:

@alwaysfullybooked

@booklover242

@light-in-the-shadows72

@thefandomhighqueen

@floatingfaith

@tangledraysofsunshine

@mis-lil-red

@rowaelinforeverworld

@iamaelinashryvergalathnius

@l0sts0uls1128

@lightattheend

@jasisteih

@they-call-me-cuatro

@amusedowl

[shadowluverworks]

Remissionem - Chapter 5

If you’ve been keeping up with the show, Della has returned to Earth. In this story however, Della is still gone, and her whereabouts are unknown, she is presumed dead.

This story has some gore in it, considering it’s about a family overcoming an accident and fighting mortality. Reader discretion advised as I work at a veterinary clinic, so wounds and the treatment of them may be described rather realistically. If you have a squeamish stomach, I suggest not reading these sections. For those of my readers who like this sort of stuff, I hope you are satisfied you creepy little nerds! Thanks for reading guys!

Chapter 5: Is Stronger

The sudden quiet is a bit unsettling. Louie stands from his chair to peek over the balcony again at his family below. His great uncle is covered by a thick white blanket from feet all the way to his shoulders, eyes closed and head resting back on the pillow behind him. His uncle sits a yard or two away to the rich duck’s right, leaning against the plane’s side, head hanging, and hands folded over his middle, obviously asleep from the snores emanating from him. Huey’s on the opposite side, sleeping on his left with back to the plane’s wall. Dewey and Webby lay in the middle of the plane, a couple yards away from Scrooge. The middle child sleeps on his back, arms and legs sprawled out and away from his body in a starfish like position. Webby rests on her front, head turned to her right and away from the others resting on one hand.

It seems safe to go back down. The youngest triplet can feel his own tired body longing for a rest, he’d like to join the others in their slumber. But there’s something else that pulls him towards them, something he’s been trying to avoid.

He turns to Launchpad, hands in his pocket, “I’m gonna go down there, you ok up here by yourself?”

The pilot nods, “All good here. We still have a little less than 5 hours to go yet.”

Louie nods his head in return and turns to go down the ladder. He’s not concerned leaving the other alone, the main reason he had come up here was to be away from the bloody scene below. Launchpad is more than capable of keeping them on the right path, as he’s proven many times before. Landing of course is a different story, but one they wouldn’t have to worry about for several hours.

As he reaches the ground floor and turns back to where his family sleeps, he almost jumps at seeing the dark turquoise eyes watching his every move. He must have wakened the old duck; he had thought he was being quiet though. Placing his hands back in his hoodie pocket, he silently walks over to his great uncle, pausing at his covered feet.

He speaks quietly to not wake the others, “Hey, you’re awake? How ya doin’?”

Scrooge doesn’t move, his voice low but soft, “Bin better.”

Louie’s green eyes show concern, though his face tries to mask it in his usual neutral stare. His gaze sweeps around the rich duck, but with the blanket covering, he can’t see any of the injuries, except the large gash on the left forehead that’s quickly forming a black eye. It’s the first time he can really look at his great uncle again without his stomach churning at the sight of blood, though he avoids looking straight in the eyes. There are still some red-brown smears over the other’s face and head in places, but not nearly as severe as it had been, “Looks like they patched ya up.”

Scrooge’s beak dips slightly, “They did well, teh lot o’ them.”

The youngest triplet’s gaze falls to the ground and away, as if contemplating something. This isn’t the first time he’s been avoiding looking directly at the rich duck. Anytime his eyes fall on the one before him, it’s brief and uncomfortable, as if it pains him to look at the other.

His great uncle can read him despite his efforts to hide; it’s the same expression a young Donald used to wear when he felt guilty. The wealthy loner isn’t the best talking about feelings, and speaking in general isn’t the easiest thing right now, but it seems the boy needs to get something off his chest, “Is there somethin’ ye want tae talk aboot?”

Louie is taken aback by the question, but sighs in defeat and pads over to the Scottish duck’s right side, sliding down the plane’s wall and taking a seat beside him, knees drawn up to his chest. For a while neither of them says anything.

Scrooge straightens his posture a bit, wincing. The blanket loosens around him and he lowers it to his lap, laying his good arm overtop it. His head turns towards the duckling beside him, “What’s on yer mind, laddie?”

Louie’s eyes glance at him in his peripheral vision. With the blanket moved, the boy can see several bruises and scrapes littering his great uncle’s torso, as well as the long row of stitches on his upper right arm and left still in its sling. He purposefully sat on this side to avoid the gory, stitched and bruised ribcage, but his hesitance to face his great uncle is no longer just because of the injuries that have now stopped leaking the red liquid.

“I...” His voice faulters as he searches for the words he wants, “I feel...bad...”

“Yer nae well?”

Bangs shake with their owner’s head, “No, I mean...I feel bad for you...”

Scrooge blinks, “Fer me? Ye donnae have tae pity me fer what happened.”

Louie shakes his head slightly again, “It’s not that. I mean, yea I feel bad about you getting hurt but,” he pauses again, eyes glancing around on floor in front of him, “I feel bad because, the first thing that came to my head was, ‘at least it wasn’t Uncle Donald.’”

The old duck is silent next to him, and the boy’s legs draw closer to his frame as he cradles them, resting his chin on his knees. He feels as if the man next to him must be offended by the statement, but still nothing is said. He can’t bear to even peek at Scrooge now, not wanting to see the pained expression that was surely on the elder’s face.

Louie needs to explain, he can’t just leave things there as much as he wants to stop already, eyes starting to well up, “If Uncle Donald was the one that got hit...if he had...” He cuts himself off with a sniff, but Scrooge knows what he meant. If he had died.

Donald is certainly younger than himself, but also is not on good terms with Lady Fortuna. Would the sailor had survived the same ordeal he went through? It was a miracle he survived. Donald was the only parent the boys had ever known, and without him, what would become of them?

Louie lifts his head a little, “He raised us, if something happened to him...I don’t wanna think about life without him in it...But I’m so,” he grabs the feathers on the sides of his head tightly, squeezing his eyes shut, “disgusted with myself for even having a thought like that! Being relieved that it was you and not him!”

Hot tears are flowing down his cheeks now, and he wraps his arms tightly around his knees once again, “I never wanted anything to happen to you, Uncle Scrooge.” His eyes stare off ahead of him, a haunted look in them, “And then seeing you all...bloody and hurt!” He looks at his crimson stained sleeves and hands as one reaches his face, “That picture’s stuck in my head! I feel so guilty! How could I ever think something that terrible?!”

The green eyes shimmer up at him as the boy finally looks at his great uncle, wounds and all, expecting to see disappointment. Instead, the boy sees a small smile.

Scrooge’s eyelids lower slightly, “The same thought ran through my head.”

Louie’s eyes widen, “W-What?”

The rich duck takes a breath, “The last thing ah want is one ‘a ye gitten hurt. Ah’d do anythin’ in me power tae keep that from happenin’, even if it means puttin’ meself at risk.” The elder can’t be upset with the boy for being thankful his guardian was spared; he was never mad at the duckling to begin with.

Louie blinks a few times, tears still actively running down his flushed cheeks as he wipes at his nose with his sleeve with a sniff. He looks away again, still not completely convinced he shouldn’t be ashamed of himself, and that the other isn’t angry at him.

His great uncle continues, “Louie, we cannae help what runs through our heads sometimes, but ye have nothin’ tae be sorry fer. Ah knoo ye didnae mean any harm.”

The young duckling looks back up at him, seeing the same warm smile that was there before. The old duck really isn’t upset? Not hurt or offended by what he had said? What the other had said runs through his own head; Scrooge would gladly trade his own life if it meant keeping his family safe. He has no regrets.

Louie sniffs again, and scoots closer to the bigger avian’s side, before leaning his head against the right wing, avoiding the large gash. His tiny arms wrap around the rich duck’s, clinging to the other.

Scrooge blinks in surprise at the outward affection, he’s not the best at this either. But his smile returns, and he pats the boy’s knee next to him, “There, there, laddie. ‘s alright.”

They stay like that for a long time, neither saying anything more. Soon the sniffles at his side stop, and the boy’s breathing becomes deep and regular. Scrooge glances down, seeing the duckling’s eyes are closed, fast asleep. He smiles again, laying his head back with a sigh. Eyes close to try and rest once more, unaware that the sailor’s snoring had ceased a while ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s running through the jungle, jumping over dead trees and avoiding the large green leaves that hang in his path. Small branches grab at his face and leave scratches, but he can’t worry about that now.

His webbed feet carry him as fast as they can until they reach their destination: a small clearing in the usually dense forest. Here he pauses, taking in what lies in wait for him, what he’s been searching for. A bloodied and broken body that he never thought could look so...mortal. He runs to the body, quickly looking for any signs of life. There is none.

He pants in exertion and disbelief. Dead. He’s dead. Impossible! Scrooge McDuck had already lived well past his life expectancy. The death-defying stunts he pulls on a day to day basis only keep him more alive! He shouldn’t be dead, can’t be dead! But there’s no breathing beneath his fingers, and his white feathers are actively soaking up the crimson stains. There’s no heart beating in the chest. He’s kneeling in a pool of his great uncle’s life source.

As if they were ghosts, his family manifests beside him, all expressing the same horror as he is. His younger brother his sobbing in between his vomiting episodes in the bushes at the gore of the scene. His older brother is paging through his beloved book in his shaking hands, as if trying to believe there still might be some glimmer of hope. Though there’s tears running down his face as he refuses to acknowledge what’s before him. Webby’s hot tears drip onto their elder’s face as she cradles his head, trying desperately to hold back her sobs.

Suddenly he’s pushed away, falling on his posterior as he retreats backward a ways. His uncle kneels to the ground, facing away from him, body leaning over the motionless one. His shoulders tremble in between sobs, he’s never seen his uncle cry so hard before.

As if sensing his thoughts, Donald’s face whips around to glare at him. Salty tears run down his beak as his face turns from sorrowful to enraged. His voice shouts, “YOU!”

Dewey flinches.

The sailor’s voice has never been so accusing. His uncle stands and walks to him, “You just had to make us all keep going, even after that trap was sprung!”

The middle child’s face pales.

His younger brother lifts his head from where he’d buried it in his hands, flushed and bright red, “I knew it was too dangerous! But you never listen to me!”

His older brother lowers the book, eyes glaring holes into his own, “There were so many things that could have gone wrong. Anyone could have seen that! Why didn’t you think before you made us all follow you!”

Dewey shakes his head, “No...I-I didn’t know this would happen! No one could have known there was another boulder!”

“Dewey...” Webby sniffs, stroking the head feathers on Scrooge’s head. Her glance moves to his own, “You should have been more careful. You know how old he was! Look what you did!” Her voice is trembling, and he can feel his heart break as he follows her gaze to his great uncle’s body.

His body is shaking as he takes a step back, tears welling up in his bright blue eyes, “No...I didn’t...it was such a simple trap! We’ve been through so many worse ones!”

Donald stomps closer, making him move back quickly before falling over a branch and onto his backside once again. His uncle towers over him, “Why do you think he even went on adventures anymore at his age?! It’s because of you!”

Eyes widen in disbelief as the sailor continues, “You always want to go on all these dangerous missions, and he just wanted to impress you! He didn’t want you to think he was boring or too old! Now look what happened!”

Tears are starting to run down his face, “Uncle Donald-”

“Don’t call me that!”

He flinches, cowering away from the other.

The older duck’s eyes narrow in disgust, “This is your fault!”

Dewey’s head shakes, “No!”

“He’s dead because of you!”

“NO!”

“His blood is on your hands!”

Dewey’s eyes peer down to his trembling hands, seeing the red substance staining them, “NO!”

A gasp is heard as the middle child sits up in a cold sweat, lungs heaving to try and get much needed air back into them. A hand grips his chest as he leans over slightly, staring at the red metal floor of the Sunchaser. The nightmare shook him to his core, he hasn’t dreamt like that in a long while.

His face feels wet and he rubs the back of a hand over it. Tears are actively running down his face, but the sight of the dried blood on his fingers, now brightened by the sudden moisture, makes his breath pick up again. He gasps for air as he urgently tries to wipe away the crimson stains covering his person. His hands move up and down his sleeves and over each other trying to rid themselves of the offensive color in vain. More tears come to his eyes as the substance clings to his body, and he covers his head, eyes squeezing shut to block out the image.

“Dewey?”

His head pops up at his name, eyes wide. He follows the source of the sound to find his great uncle staring back at him, face full of surprise and concern.

That’s right, Scrooge didn’t die. He wasn’t still laying in a jungle somewhere waiting to rot or be ravaged by animals, and his family hadn’t blamed Dewey for the accident.

The rich duck still sits where the middle child had left him in the land of the conscious, on the blankets and leaning against a pillow on the plane’s side. A thick quilt covers him from the waist down, leaving his upper body bare. Louie sits next to him, knees pulled up to his chest and leaning against Scrooge’s right wing with his arms tightly wrapped around it, fast asleep.

Dewey tries to calm himself as his mind starts to come back, taking deeper breaths. His hand wipes away his tears, hoping his great uncle hadn’t seen them, “Uncle Scrooge?” The wetness leaves red stains across his face, only leaving more evidence behind.

Scrooge’s eyebrows furrow together even more. He had seen the lad crying, in fact he’d seen everything. The duckling, sleeping peacefully for quite some time, had started becoming restless. His body would twist back and forth, his deep breaths now a pant, face screwed into something resembling pain. The old duck could have sworn he heard the child mutter his own name at least once, and then the tears had started. He was about to try and wake the boy up himself from what was surely a bad dream before the blue eyes suddenly popped open and the small body sat up.

He had thought that would be the end of it, but then witnessed Dewey trying desperately to remove the blood from his hands and clothes. Afraid the boy was going to hurt himself in his panic, he called out to him.

Scrooge could sympathize with the blue triplet, he himself struggled with night terrors. Making many enemies along the years has made his mind expect tragedy to befall himself or worse, his family. Many a time has he dreamt his kin were in danger and woke swinging at nothingness in his bedroom.

However, even familial problems can make his dreams turn against him. When they had lost Della, his nightmares were so severe he had become an insomniac just to escape from them. Eventually he managed to sleep again, once the exhaustion had caught up, but those dreams still haunt him to this day, and return every now and then.

He doesn’t like thinking about the times when his cursing, screaming, and even crying had attracted Mrs. Beakley and Duckworth to his room, thinking he was being attacked. If he was not already awake, they would have to physically shake him to save his poor trapped mind. Even though they saw him at his weakest, trying desperately to cease his tears and rubbing his forehead to calm his psyche, they never held anything against him. They would offer their assistance, knowing they would be turned down, and act as if nothing happened the next day to preserve their employer’s pride.

The rich duck tries to soothe his great nephew, “Seems ye had a nasty one.”

Dewey’s panting is starting to return to normal, but his sniffles are still very much active, “...yeah...” His arms rest on his knees, glancing over at the other with sad expression.

Scrooge pats the spot next to him, in front of Louie, beckoning him over. The middle triplet hesitates for just a moment before accepting the invitation, crawling the short distance onto the padded spot and laying down next to his great uncle. His back lay to the plane’s side and away from the older duck’s prying eyes. His younger brother’s feet tuck underneath his back. His head rests on Scrooge’s lap, facing away from him.

They sit for a bit, the older duck shifting just slightly to accompany more weight onto his broken frame, holding back a grunt but allowing the wince to show as his great nephew couldn’t see it at this angle. Finally settling again, his arm rests out of the way to give the two triplets room.

Dewey holds still, lifting his head slightly when the body adjusts underneath him, and trying to convince himself he wasn’t harming it. When it stills, he lays back again, tears still dripping onto the blanket beneath him, but starting to dry up.

His mind starts to wander, why is Scrooge still awake? He’d have expected him to be passed out or at least resting peacefully by now. Everyone else is sleeping around them, thankfully not hearing his outburst. His voice is quiet, so much so it can barely be heard, “Did I wake you up?”

His great uncle’s straining ears manage to pick it up over the Sunchaser’s engine, “Nae. Haven’t slept a wink.”

Dewey’s head turns to look at him, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Scrooge give a small smile, almost a sad one. He doesn’t want to tell the child how his body aches. How the pain is so intense he can’t find solace in sleep, even though every fiber of his being yearns for it. He can’t tell the hurting duckling that having the two of them lean against him is causing even more pain to wrack his battered body. No, he keeps that to himself. There are more important things to worry about.

Dewey reaches with a hand to feel what lays under the blanket, trying to determine where exactly his head rests. He’s on the broken leg, but above the splint, in the corner of his eye, he can see his great uncle’s face twitching at his touch. He removes his hand, “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

The smile widens a bit, “Nae, donnae worry aboot me.”

It seems convincing; Dewey turns his head back and sighs.

His dream’s memory returns, the body before him, his family in tears, the blood on his hands. He lifts one to look at the red stains.

Scrooge watches him, “Ye wanna talk aboot it? Yer dream?”

Dewey tucks his hand to his chest and shakes his head. He doesn’t want to relive that.

The rich duck accepts it and doesn’t enquire anymore, leaning his head back to rest, he almost misses the soft, trembling, voice.

“...I’m sorry.”

Lifting his head again, he tries to look at the duckling’s face, who’s turned it closer to the blankets, “Eh? ‘Sorry’? Fer what?”

The tears have started anew, wetting the quilt atop his legs. The boy trembles, “For what happened; it’s my fault. I-I insisted that we keep going even after that trap w-was sprung...we could have found another way around; we could have been safer...but I m-made us all keep going...and then Uncle Donald...and-and you...”

He doesn’t want to hear anymore, “Dewey. Donnae ye even dare blame yerself fer this. ‘s nae yer fault. It was jus’ an accident.”

The middle triplet buries his face into the blanket further, tiny hand gripping it tightly as he sobs, “...but...but I-”

“Ah donnae wanna hear it! With all teh adventures we’ve bin on, that death trap was a walk in teh park. We’ve been through much worse! Teh fact no one’s gotten hurt yet is a bit miraculous.”

Dewey sniffs and turns to look at him. Again, those glistening blue eyes stare up at his face, “You’re not mad? You don’t blame me?”

Scrooge lets out a small chuckle, making his ribs scream at him, but he ignores their cry, “Of course not! If it was anyone’s fault, it was me own fer not gittin outta teh way in time!” He sighs, “These old bones arennae as quick as they used ta be.”

To his relief, the middle child smiles just a bit, turning his head back again, “Thanks, Uncle Scrooge.”

He smiles in return, lifting his good hand and placing it on the boy’s head, ruffling the head feathers, “Don’ ever blame yerself fer what happened. You’ll only make yerself miserable.” Ah should knoo. He blamed himself for their mother’s absence for years, and still struggles with it.

The triplet beneath his caressing hand relaxes, “I won’t.”

It’s as if he can feel the guilt leaving the duckling’s body, a soft sigh escaping. Soon the child is motionless beneath him, hopefully back to a more peaceful slumber.

Right as he’s about to try and rest again himself, a sniffle reaches his ears. Following the sound, the old duck’s head turns to his left where he’s met with the tearful sight of the oldest triplet. “Huey?”

The boy’s amber eyes flick to his, meekly meeting his eye contact. The red garbed duckling must have awoken at some point during his and Dewey’s conversation, or perhaps even before that. He’s sitting up in the same location where he had previously been sleeping.

Huey’s eyes travel between his siblings and his great uncle, before the rich duck invites him over with a small gesture of his head. The oldest boy is quick to accept and moves to join his family. He’s careful to avoid the wounded arm, and instead mirrors Dewey, laying on his right side on the padded spot. His head rests on the Scrooge’s left leg, back facing the old duck, but snuggles a bit closer than his brother.

The injured avian adjusts to having even more weight on his battered body, trying not to wake the other two sleeping children. His smile still present, he addresses the oldest triplet, “What’s teh matter?”

Huey is a bit more outspoken of his own feelings than his two brothers and Scrooge isn’t surprised when his question is immediately answered, “I just wish I could help more. Seeing you hurt like this makes me want to fix the problem, but I don’t like accepting that I can’t fix everything. I couldn’t set your dislocated arm even though I knew what I was doing, I can’t sew up wounds like Webby and Uncle Donald, and I can’t fix the pain that you’re still in. We don’t have any painkillers!”

Scrooge shakes his head just slightly in disbelief with the ever-present smile still sitting on his face, “Huey, ye knoo ye cannae fix everythin’. Sometimes ye have tae accept that.”

Even though he can only see the back of the boy’s head, he can tell it’s disappointed. He continues, “But ye’ve already helped me so much. Ye helped Dewey fix me arm, and ye were smart enough tae find supplies tae make a splint fer me leg! Without ye ah’d be in a great deal more pain. Might nae ‘ave made it home.”

Huey contemplates that. He was the one who directed his younger brother how to fix the dislocated arm. If they hadn’t fixed that, then it’s entirely possible getting Scrooge back to the Sunchaser would have been more difficult. Being in constant overwhelming pain, and having to ride on your nephew’s back, would not be an ideal way to travel. Plus had he not have suspected a break in the entrepreneur’s leg, Scrooge could have insisted he walk out of the jungle, and only do more damage to it and the rest of his body. Lastly, he assisted Dewey in stabilizing the broken leg until they reach home. Huey hadn’t fixed everything, but he did make a difference.

A tiny smile pulls on the boy’s small beak, “Thanks, I...guess I did help.”

As the revelation hits the oldest triplet, a hand is placed over his own on the rich duck’s leg, Dewey having reached out to his older brother.

Scrooge’s eyebrows raise, he thought the boy was asleep, but had apparently been listening to their conversation.

Huey’s first finger moves on top of his brother’s hand in appreciation, wordless consoling passing between the siblings. His eyes close, “We’re really glad you’re ok, Uncle Scrooge. We were scared you were...” He cuts himself off just a moment, swallowing, and nuzzling closer to his great uncle, “We just met you. We don’t wanna lose you.”

The Scottish duck’s beak parts slightly and he blinks in surprise. At the eldest duckling’s confession, Dewey replicates his brother’s actions and snuggles closer, turning his head towards the blanket beneath him to be closer yet. Scrooge’s bewilderment is only heightened as he feels the youngest triplet, dormant for nearly an hour and half, tighten the hold on his trapped right arm and tuck the small beak closer still.

Suddenly he’s blinking rapidly. Tears are stinging at his eyes, and he has to put a stop to them before it’s too late. There’s an ache in his chest, a welcomed one. Scrooge hasn’t felt this...loved in a long time. He has to control his body’s trembling before the boy’s catch on. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he calms his emotions, “Ye won’t, lads. Ah promise.”

Dewey smiles. The hand on his head continues to caress his head feathers, providing calming sensations. He won’t bring attention to the shakes he feels in the stroking fingers.

[tarotdeckshuffle]

May I make a request on a short story about Gladnis x reader where their "Ray of sunshine/Marshmallow of happiness" comes home from a rough fight with a very angry look on their face and when they ask what happened they just walk past 'em and pass out on the couch? (When the s/o wakes up, they're in the shared bed w/ them, all snuggled together and patched up)

My first polyamorous relationship fic. I haven’t read a lot of these, yet, so bear with me as I learn how to do this, ok?

This one takes place after Noctis enters the crystal but in the alternate ending.

Taglist: @idiotflowerex

Of Love and Clouds

It was supposed to be easy…

The hunt Dave sent you on was supposed to be easy, but with ever present darkness the daemons had grown to incredible sizes.

You had gone out on a simple “Boss Battle” mission as the hunters had nicknamed it. The mission was a sort of preventative measure: information came in about a daemon who had grown too large. At a certain point, those daemons would become the leaders of the smaller daemons in the area, allowing the creatures to organize. Once organized, they’d challenge the human settlements. To prevent this chain of events, hunters would go out, taking out the potential leader and stopping the daemons from ever organizing.

You had gathered information on a tonberry who had grown fairly large. You left, alone, expecting to find a tonberry the size of a man. What you found was one the size of a building.

This bastard could have ascended to a god, soon. The thing stabbed at you with an uprooted telephone pole and used, what looked like, an old sail as a cloak. It still had much of the agility of a normal tonberry; shaking the ground every time it leapt into the air. It was utterly massive.

The whole battle was something out of a masochistic video game. You spent much of your time rolling and trying to dodge the creatures attacks, throwing flash grenades at its gathering minions, and trying to attack its feet. You succeeded in defeating it by crippling its legs, climbing its back, and driving a blade through its green skull.

Your “easy” mission had taken most of your strength and covered you in dust and blood. You hadn’’t been this exhausted, or dirty, in years. It was on numb legs, a foggy mind, and some grace of the gods that you made it back to Lestallum.

In the city, your two wonderful boyfriends were waiting on you in your shared apartment. Each of you had been taking on separate missions that suited your strengths. Ignis had been working to locate areas that could provide supplies and setting up beacons to them. Gladio had been working on daily escort missions. You had taken to breaking up daemon hoards.

Your mind was on your apartment your whole way home. The space was small, as Lestallum was packed to the brim now, but you made the most of it. Ignis had insisted on furnishing most of it in white to make it feel bigger, Gladio had packed it with every book he could find, and you provided a plethora of records and throw pillows for maximum cuddling efficiency.

The two men were working in the kitchen as you practically fell through the door. Gladio was washing the dishes Ignis put in sink as he was cooking. Both looked up, surprised but happy, at your late return. “Welcome back, Marshmallow.” Gladio said as he dried a dish.

“You’re a bit late, Sunshine.” Ignis added over a sizzling pan.

You didn’t respond to either of them.

“Woah…you…ok?” Gladdy asked as you made your way past him. The exhaustion in your features manifested to look like an appetite for murder. The “undead chic” look was completed by the filth covering your armor.

Ignis raised an eyebrow at your appearance. “Are you…hungry, love?” he asked, knowing the effects food can have on a disposition.

You simply continued on. You drug your feet over the floor as you made your way to the couch, a shell of your usual chipper self. Down you fell onto the old furniture, crashing over the arm, your legs dangling over.

“Darling?” Ignis asked, concern evident in his tone as he turned down the stove to leave the meal.

“Hey!” Gladio was ahead of him in getting to you, fearing you were injured.

Upon reaching you, the great man stopped in shock, then laughed, propping himself upon the back of the couch. Ignis looked at him confused, making his way to the front of the couch to sit beside you.

“Already asleep.” Gladio lamented, smiling at his Marshmallow.

Ignis smiled as he pet the back of your snoring head. “It must have been quite the mission. I don’t suppose they’ll want dinner…”

Gladio hummed in response to his boyfriends assumption, leaning towards him. “This is pretty cute, though…” he whispered, not wanting to wake you. The two men shared a smile while staring at the comical scene.

“Either way, this can’t be a comfortable or healthy sleeping position,” Ignis said upon standing. “Sunshine…” he sang in your ear. You didn’t stir.

“Leave ‘em.” Gladio said, rolling you over into his arms. Easily lifting you, the great man made for the bedroom. You barely stirred in his arms.

Gently setting you down on the white bed, the two men smiled at the scene: their sunshine wrapped up in marshmallow like sheets of happiness. You stirred in your sleep as you cuddled deeper into the soft bed.

Ignis took off your boots and removed your remaining armor to make sure you were comfortable. He took them to wash off the daemon blood in the bathroom.

“I’ll help…” Gladio said through a yawn. Iggy smiled at his love.

“It’s been a long day, why don’t you settle in, too?” He said, giving the great man a peck on the cheek.

Before he could protest, Iggy was off. Gladio looked down at your sleeping form and smiled. You laid on your back, head slightly bent to one side. He removed his shoes and shirt and climbed in bed next to you, cuddling up and pulling your small form close to him.

Ignis returned to the room to find a heartwarming scene: the two people he loved most in this dark world, cuddled in cloudlike sheets, dozing softly.

Not being able to resist, he unbuttoned his shirt and removed his boots before snuggling up on the opposite side of you from Gladio. He wrapped his arms around you, tangling with Gladio’s. The bed was warm and soft. The rhythmic breathing of the two of you soon lulled Ignis into an unexpectedly deep slumber.

You stirred, some few hours later, according to the clock. You were warm and comfortable. Your first thoughts went to whether or not you still lived.

You felt the warmth move around you and realized it was caused by the forms on either side of you. Looking up, you found Gladio’s rugged face, peaceful and slumbering next to you.

Then you heard shifting and soft sounds to your other side. You turned your head to find Ignis curled up there, also slumbering peacefully.

You were cradled in their arms, ever protected.

You bent your arms towards your chest, so as to hold both of their arms in yours, completing the knot.

You’re alive and in heaven, you thought, falling back asleep.

Time passed. Gladio stirred next to you, waking you to a handsome face smiling back at you.

“Good morning, Marshmallow.”

“Good morning, Gladdy.” You smiled back.

Ignis shifted at your other side, slowly coming to. His glasses are strewn across his face. You and Gladio smile at him.

“Good morning, Iggy.” You whisper to him.

“Eh, good morning, Sunshine.” he replied, trying to right himself to his surrounds.

You smile as the two men, having had the same idea, pull closer to you for more cuddles.

In your small apartment, laying in a bed of clouds, you regail your loves with the story of the Mega-Tonberry, as you have named it. They may laugh and hardly believe you, but that doesn’t matter, today. You are warm and safe in a tangle of love and happiness.

Today, you have everything that is precious in this dark world.

[ticklemekraken]

“Say It Again...”

Diego Hargreeves x Reader First time you tell him that you love him and he acts like it’s a damn miracle. If it gets a good reaction maybe I’ll write more, maybe I’ll take requests?

It isn’t the tossing and turning that wakes you, or the way the bed shakes as he cowers from his unseen terrors, what wakes you is the small, animal sounds of terror that slip from between his gritted teeth. They scare you enough that you don’t reach for the light but rather, blindly grasp through the darkness for him, reaching for any part of him so that you could coax him from what ever nightmare holds him so tightly in its grasp.

“D…… D, baby, it’s okay, it’s just a dream D, wake up” your voice is husky with sleep but purposeful and soothing, your hand finds his bicep, corded with tense muscle, you can feel that his whole body is taut with adrenaline, he whimpers again and the sound threatens to break you.

“Diego!” You sit over him now, positioned in a way that allows you to take his wide shoulders between your hands and shake him firmly. Whether it is this movement, or the sharpness of your voice that wakes him you don’t know, and you don’t have much time to ponder as his eyes snap open, his whole body acting instinctively, whirling over the top of you, pinning you beneath his solid forearm and pressing a knife you hadn’t realised he slept with to your throat. You go completely, perfectly still beneath him, the room is enshrouded in darkness but his face is close enough to yours that you can see in his eyes that the terror of his dream hasn’t quite let him go, his face is still filled with shadows, that darken his orbs and flatten his beautiful soft mouth into an unflinching line.

“D….. Sweetheart it’s me, it’s (Y/N)” you whisper softly, slowly, you know that he would never hurt you, but you also know that while he is in the grip of his darkest memories he isn’t completely himself, there is a wall between you and your Diego.

He blinks slowly and you watch with no small amount of relief as the last of the shadows in his eyes disperse, leaving nothing but the soulful chocolate eyes you had fallen so deeply in love with, they rimmed with silver as he takes you in, laying perfectly still, barely daring to breathe under the honed edge of his blade.

He throws the knife away like it has burned him, it skitters out of sight under the dresser as he sinks back onto his knees before you, looking at you like his heart is breaking.

“I-I-I-‘m s-s-sssssss” he takes a deep breath, trying desperately to regain some control “I-I-I’m so s-s-s-ssssss” his breath catches in his chest and you feel your heart actually break a little then and you couldn’t help but reach out for him, taking his face, still damp with sweat from his thrashing, between your hands and stroking first one thumb and then the other over his lips.

“Remember what your mom told you, D” you whisper “Picture the word in your mind”. You take a deep breath in together, moving as one, somehow always in sync and Diego tries again, his voice more solid now, the quaver all but gone.

“I’m so sorry, baby” he whispers, looking down from your eyes as he takes both of your hands into his from where the rested on his face, pressing a kiss gently to each palm before laying them in his lap, still wrapped in his much larger hands. You don’t reply, not straight away, choosing instead to crawl carefully into his lap, both of your legs sling over one of his and your face presses to his bare chest where you can hear the last of the adrenaline still making his breathing a little ragged fading away. Strong arms snake around you, tucking you still closer to his bare chest.

“Was it the dream about Ben, again?” You whisper. You feel rather than see him shake his head, no.

“The one where you’re throwing knives at your dad and they keep boomeranging back at you?” Another headshake.

“It was different, a new one” his voice is rough and sleepy still but you hear his whisper loud and clear, as always perfectly attuned to him. You wait patiently, knowing that he will tell you and is just figuring out the best words to use, picturing them in his mind.

“I was th-throwing knives” he begins carefully, conscious of the way being emotional makes his voice quaver. “But not at my father, they were just crooks. I was chasing a whole gang of them but whenever I threw a knife after them it just whizzed past them….”

You hold still, taking deep breaths and staying patiently quiet, knowing that he needs to get this out.

“So I threw more and more and more, trying to bring even one of em’ down…. And then I chased them around the corner and saw wh-wh-wh….. saw wh-wh-who….. who I was hitting” you fall completely still in his lap, barely daring to breathe as he confesses this terror to you. He takes a few more deep breaths to steady himself and then whispers into your hair, low enough that you have to listen carefully;

“It was y-y-y-you, (Y/N), you were in this filthy alley, on your kn-knees, just filled with my knives, and I watched as the last o-o-one slammed into you and you just toppled over” his voice is tortured, tight and rough like every word is a struggle, your eyes grow damp in response to his pain and you pull him close to you, as though you can absorb the hurt from him.

You’ve never seen Diego rattled like this, Diego who is so unbreakable, so strong and so invulnerable. Hell, the only reason you’re not surprised by his stutter is because he told you he suffered with it as a kid, until this moment you hadn’t ever heard it before. In this moment he is so raw, so vulnerable and so open, you do the only thing you know how to, you start talking, hoping that the words come out right.

“It was just a dream, D, I’m right here, and I’m the safest I could possibly be because my Kraken is beside me.” You try to wriggle out of his arms to get a better look at his face but he just holds you more firmly against his chest, a trickle of something wet plops into your hair and you immediately understand why he doesn’t want you to see his face right now, you struggle against his iron grip a moment more before settling for peppering his chest and arms and every part of him that you can reach with kisses.

It is several long moments before Diego speaks again, despite the ferocity of your kiss bombardment, his broken whispers causing you to immediately cease your onslaught.

“Y/N….. This is crazy. I’m crazy. My life is crazy. I can’t keep doing this to you, traipsing in at all hours of the night covered in blood, injured, all kinds of trash following me in from the darkness….. Baby, it’s dangerous, it’s only a matter of time before…..”

“Hargreeves you cut that shit out right now” your voice is firm, unyielding, because you can feel the mood he’s working himself into and you refuse to pander to it for even a moment. You draw yourself up so that you can look directly into his eyes and steel yourself against the way his eyes became so sweet and gentle when he was hurting because in the past, they had been your downfall. “You don’t frighten me Diego. Nothing about you scares me and I have absolutely no reservations about spending every day for the rest of my life with you.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, instead lifting you from his lap and depositing you not ungently onto the mattress so that he can stand and pace the small area beside his bed, dragging a hand through his short, dark hair, his bicep and chest flexing in a way that you dimly registered would be quite distracting if you weren’t so keenly focussed on Diego’s next words.

“I’m not worth this, (Y/N)!” He bursts out with quite suddenly “This risk! My life is nothing but violence and darkness and I am not worth you risking getting hurt!”

Your hand flies to your chest, pressing against the heart that you can feel breaking as the weight of his words settle onto your shoulders; he really, truly believes that he isn’t worth very much at all. You want to get up, to go to him, to say the perfect words that will make him realize how wrong he is, but you don’t quite know what they are. Diego is still pacing furiously beside the bed, hands on his bare hips, his shoulders growing tenser and tenser the longer you’re silent and you realize that whatever you are going to say you need to say it right now or else you are going to lose him. This sweet, strong, patient, unflinching miracle is going to walk out of your life and stay away because he thinks it’s what’s best for you. The thought grasps your chest in an icy fist as you raise yourself onto your knees and speak in a voice that is blessedly a lot calmer than you feel.

“Diego Hargreeves, you look me in the eye when I say this to you because I need this to be the last time we ever have this conversation.” Something in your tone reaches him, because he stops dead in his tracks, and even though he’s 10 feet from you his eyes bore straight into yours, his eyebrows furrowed over them as he listens to you.

“You are a miracle. You who have seen so much darkness and been treated with such indifference and who still has room in his heart to want to make the world better, make himself, better?” Your voice trembles and he lifts a hand as though he could reach out over the distance between you to comfort you, but his bare feet stay planted where he had stopped, waiting for you to finish speaking.

“I see you, Diego. I see all of you and I am not afraid. I see that you have darkness within, darkness that allows you to hurt people, that allows you to patrol the darkest corners of this city without fear…. But…. I see the light too, I see the way you watch Klaus, the way you are always by his side the moment he needs you. I see the pile of magazines you keep in your wardrobe with all of Allison’s covers, because I know you’re proud of her. I see the VHS recording of Luther’s takeoff, I see the framed photos of 5 and Ben, the copy of Vanyas book you swore you threw out. I see the way you look after your mom. Diego. I see all of you, that’s why I’m in love with you, that’s why I’m not going anywhe….”

“What did you say….?” His voice is quiet but his tone intense as he cuts across you.

“I’m not going anywhe…”

“No, not that, before that what did you say?” His eyes are less intense now, less sad, in fact if you were a gambler you’d say that the emotion they are full of is…… wonder? And suddenly it occurs to you that even though you fell head over heels for this man almost the moment you met him…… you’ve never told him, not really….

You sit back into your heels and take a deep breath, lifting your hands slightly as if to say ‘how could I not?’

“Diego Hargreeves. I am head over heels in love with you, there isn’t a single thing in the world I would change about you” at least, that’s what you had meant to say, the moment the ‘L’ word left your lips Diego moves so fast it’s almost instant the way he crosses the room. He takes your face between his hands and seizes your lips with his, he kisses you like he is starving and you are all that can sustain him, it is all you can do to hold onto him, cling onto the passion that pours out of him. You don’t even think about resisting as he lays you back gently, reverently amid the tousled sheets and shows you exactly how much he loves you in return.

It’s hours later that you lay curled into him, your head resting on his chest, his arms around you protectively and you ask, sleepily:

“Forever, D?”

It’s a few moments before he replies to you, his voice thick with emotion but clear and calm,

“I ain’t never letting you go, (Y/N)”

[dark-and-kawaii]

Hey! I was wondering if we could get another teaser excerpt from your Chisakixreaderxshigaraki fic? I'm so excited for it! Btw that recent request you made for Chisakixreaderxchrono was so so freaking good!! But I felt bad for Hari tho, I just want them to equally share the s/o (trust me, they would be doing the s/o a favor lol)

Hari is just too easy for me to hurt, i can’t help it… Maybe one day he will find happiness… maybe *shrugs*  ╮( ˘ ､ ˘ )╭

SURE THOUGH!!!! I have the first part written out and the third part! (i skipped part two for now!) BUT SURE!!!!

Sorry it took SO DANG LONG!!!!! I just didn’t know how i felt about this!

Please please please you, and everyone else let me know if you liked how i did this part >_

SHIGARAKI X READER X CHISAKI

PART ONE.

You don’t know how you managed it, but by some miracle you were able to press the dial button on your phone before your attacker smacked it out of your hand.

“Te-Tenko…” Your eyes were filled with watery tears as your arm covered the lower half of your face, shielding your trembling lips.

Your savior had arrived, you saw the dark purplish portal opening in the corner of the elevator. Out coming was Tomura Shigaraki. His face covered with Father; despite the rest of his facial features being covered you could see in the smallest slit the rage in his eyes.

Shigaraki saw that not only were your denim shorts unzipped but your white tie up top was now opened, exposing your left breast. He had never seen so much red before from anger. Who did this attacker think he was? Laying his filthy hands on something that didn’t belong to him.

Shigaraki had no idea what took over his mind, but all he could think was ‘gotta protect her. End this piece of trash now!’ Never in his life did he have the urge to actually “save” someone, but when it came down to you he was willing to put aside the evil that laid dormant…

Dropping to the elevator floor from the portal, Shigaraki stands between you and your attacker.

“Just who in the hell do you think you are? Didn’t anyone teach you that you can’t just go around touching things that don’t belong to you… Especially when they belong to me!” Not giving the man time to react, with his hands held out, Shigaraki lunged at the man. Making contact with the mans face, Shigaraki pressed all five fingers on the mans face as his other hand pressed on the mans stomach. It didn’t take long for the man to decay away…

You don’t know why, but as your body shakes and your lips tremble… A flashback plays through your mind as you remember how Shigaraki came to be apart of your life… 

It was a quiet evening when you were walking yourself home after your shift. You didn’t know what took over you but instead of cherishing the long way home you had decided to take a shortcut through an alleyway. Which is where you discovered the injured male.

His body looked tattered, blood drenching his already dark clothing, and adding to the mess was a gash on the side of his face which you could barely make out due to the hand covering his face.

The hands all over him were a dead giveaway… you knew who this young male was. He’s supposedly the leader of the league of villains, but still. Could you really just leave him here to die like this?

All your life all you’ve ever wanted was to help people, but being born quirkless gave you a huge disadvantage. Leaving you to be just an average girl trying to survive med school.

You wanted to leave him, he’s a criminal, a villain, someone who’s definitely, maybe, killed before, maybe? Of course he has! You turned your back towards him, your hands on your head, you were so confused, why was this so hard? Just leave and forget about it… Looking over your shoulder, you saw his breathing was faint, his chest was lifting slowly, he was struggling… bad.

So doing what most humans wouldn’t do, you tossed one of his arms over you, attempting to carry the injured villain… ‘Man why are you so heavy!? For a skinny thing you sure do weigh a lot.’

It took you an extra hour to get home, but you managed to drag him through your front door…

Panting you fell beside him, it was a long journey home… you had to keep taking breaks, plus whenever someone came by you threw him on the ground behind either a trash can or garbage bags.

Once you were home with him you dragged him inside, laying him on the ground next to your couch you ran to your bathroom so you could find your supplies.

Gathering your medical box you patched him up, but there was still the giant gash on his face… you wanted to patch it up too… but that hand on his face… what if… it zaps you? You were aiming to grab it so you could reveal his face, but when you heard a small noise escape him you became frightened and ceased your movements. “Okay… there goes that idea, maybe i can manage to place a band-aid there with the help of some tweezers…” You did as you said to yourself, you were able to squeeze your tweezers under the hand that rested against his face so you could place a band-aid on his gash.

After you had him all patched up you didn’t know what to do next, leave him on the ground? Throw him back outside? Give him a stuffed animal incase he gets lonely? Throw him out your window? Call the cops? No! That’s the worst idea! He would kill you if he found out, literally!  “Agh! What do i do?” Holding your head you sat next to the villain, your hair sticking up all over the place. Scratching your head you finally decided to bring him a pillow and blanket, lifting his head you placed the pillow under his head before throwing the blanket over his body.

You were just too nice, and deep down you knew it would haunt you if you threw him back out on the streets.

There was little to nothing else you could do for him after getting him situated on the floor so you decided to head to your room for the night hoping and praying he wouldn’t wake up and kill you in your sleep.

You were slowly regaining consciousness as the scintillating light from outside your window crept through, hitting you directly on the face. You shut your eyes, remembering that there was a villain in the very next room… ‘Maybe he left’ you thought, but you doubted it. Cracking back open your eyes, you knew you had to face the music.

Slipping on some sweats and a hoodie, you made yourself presentable before making your way out of your room.

“Uhm- hel-hello?” Peeking out of your room you saw that the villain was still passed out on your floor.

‘He’ll probably be hungry by the time he wakes up… should i?’ thinking to yourself, pondering whether you should fix him breakfast or not. You eventually decide to cook him up something delicious. ‘Eggs and bacon it is then’ Heading to your itty bitty kitchen you started gathering everything for breakfast.

Unbeknownst to you, Shigaraki’s lashes began to flutter open, waking as he heard a loud clatter. Awakening, his head is spinning, but that isn’t the main focus right now. Analyzing his surroundings he realizes that someone had brought him here, but who?

Flipping the eggs, you heard movement coming from your living room. This was it, time to face the villain you had rescued. Placing the eggs and bacon on a plate you hesitantly took a step towards your living room. Upon entering  you were shoved against a wall, the force knocking the air out of you for a split moment. That’s the least of your concern though, your shoulder is burning, and it feels like pins are going into your flesh. Viewing down at your shoulder, you see a small part of your shoulder is starting to decay.

Grabbing his wrist with your hand you beg him to stop, but he only glares at you through the hand on his face, “St-stop please!” Your nails dug into his wrist a bit and that’s when Shigaraki peered down to see that his arm was patched up.

“Are you the one who brought me here?” He loosened his grip and lifted his index finger to stop you from decaying completely. “Ye-yes… I- I am… You wer-”

“Why!?”

“You were badly injured, and i didn’t want you to die in a forlorn alley! No one deserves that, right!?” Eventually, Shigaraki freed your shoulder.

He should just kill you right here and now, but you clearly knew what you were doing when it came to the medical field… Maybe you would come in handy.

“And the cops?”

You shook your head, “I- I haven’t called them! I knew better than that, you would kill me if i called them or have one of your minions do it!”

Glaring at you from behind the hand on his face, Shigaraki tries to believe you, but he’s having doubts.

“You seem to know what you’re doing in the medical field, are you some sort of hero healer?”

He was still standing extremely close to you, his body and arms caging you in, you could feel his body heat radiate off him.

“N-no, i’m just trying to make it through medical school so i can become a doctor.” Your voice was low, why hasn’t he killed you yet?

“Then let’s make a deal, you’ll become my personal healer and i won’t kill you. Got it? You wouldn’t want to die before you made it to the final level would you?”

Final level? What was this guy talking about, was he seriously making video game references…

“…Deal… Just please let me go before the rest of your food burns…”

Gripping Shigaraki’s shirt as he holds you close, you peek to see what was left of your attacker as you and Shigaraki both sit and hold one another on the elevator. 

“Tenko… I was so scared.”

He knew this feeling in his chest, he was terrified. Holding you tightly, he’s afraid that if he lets go you’ll evaporate. He hears your words, but he says nothing. 

You didn’t expect him to say anything, he was still new to this whole love thing, and before you he didn’t have anyone except his master. Worlds wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because the way he’s cradling you in his arms says everything. 

“You’ll no longer be staying here in these apartments. You’re coming back with me to the hideout. That’s a demand not a request.” 

Nodding your head against his chest, you agree to it as Shigaraki pulls out his phone.

“Kurogiri, portal.” 

Back at the hideout, Shigaraki shows you his room. You’ve never seen it after all these months, he’s always only came to your place. 

“This looks like it would be your room, Ten-”

“Don’t say my name while you’re here. The others don’t need to know it.”

“Right…”

Pulling back the sheets on his bed, you climb in, exhausted from the event that just occurred. You watched as he moved around his room, ‘Why are all these memories popping into my head… Is it because i thought i would never see him again?’

Looking down at your hands you smooth out the sheets, ‘Who would have thought, me? In a secret relationship with a villain… A villain who just saved me… I love him… so damn much… I love you, Tenko Shimura.’ Holding your head, it throbbed as another memory kicked in.. 

“Are you ever going to let me see your full face, Shigaraki? I mean it’s been about two weeks now, I feel like you at least owe me a face reveal. Especially since you keep having me use all my medical supplies, and besides I was nice enough not to take the hand off your face when I patched you up the first night I found you… I could’ve done it but I didn’t.”

“You thought it would zap you if you touched it, that’s the only reason you left it on.”

Your face had fallen to a small little pout.

“…That’s somewhat true… but still. I just really want to see the guy I’ve been harboring, it’s only fair! You already know I won’t go to the police! So what harm could this do?”

Shigaraki reached up to scratch his neck only to be stopped by both your hands. One hand gently covered where he was about to scratch while your other hand rested on his to hold it back from going up further.

“Please.” You could feel him stiffen due to your hand laying on the side of his neck. You could tell it wasn’t because he was scared you’d run off to the police, more so judge him.

Gliding your hand down slowly from his neck until you reached where his heart lays dormant inside him.

“Shigaraki… no one is hideous in my eyes. It’s all about what’s in here.”

Pressing lightly on his chest you could feel his increased heartbeat. You really wondered why his heart was beating so fast… has he never experienced this, someone touching him so gently… at all?

“I kill people, doesn’t even matter if they’re kids. I attempted to kill a little brat not long ago until eraserhead stopped me.”

In the time he was explaining how he kills people he gradually moved one of his hands to your face, only leaving his pinky finger extended out.

“My hand was pressed to her face, I was ready to do it but eraserhead is just too cool.”

Your living room was silent, neither of you made a sound. Your hand was still pressed against his heart while his palm and four fingers were pressed to your face.

“I could do it now ya know. End your life as if it was nothing, it would be game over for you.”

Shigaraki’s pinky inched closer to your temple, but unlike most people instead of feeling fear you were at ease. You were tense for only a second before realizing it. So you did what most wouldn’t do in a situation like this. Your hand left his chest, now guiding both your hands to the one that covered his face. You waited for him to smack your hands away, but instead Shigaraki grasped your wrist making sure to leave one finger extended on both his hands.

“Don’t.”

“Please.”

“I’m what you would call repulsive in the facial department. So there’s no need for you to be so curious. It’s annoying anyhow.”

“Tomura… Please.”

Using his first name kind of hit him hard, you were being serious. Is this really all you wanted? To see his disabled face? Why? Shigaraki was so confused, why would someone be so curious, and about his face? It’s nothing to look at, it’ll only scare you away… Wait. Why would he care if it scared you away?

Shigaraki was scared you would run if you saw his face, but he was even more scared of you leaving if you didn’t see it… So unnaturally his grasped loosened on your wrists, “I’ll do it, don’t touch father.”

You nodded, agreeing to his request.

Taking hold of father, Shigaraki lowered the hand so you could get a full view of his tattered face.

“There, happy? Is it everything you weren’t hoping for and more? Go ahead tell me how you really fee-”

Placing your hands on his cheeks had silenced him. No he didn’t have a face society would deem as attractive, but… “I like it but,” to you, he was exquisite and quite handsome. Your hands wandered closer to his lips where two scars rested, “You should smile more.” That’s when you pushed his lips up so you could force a smile on his face.

That’s when he finally smacked your hands away, “enough of your games, i hate liars.” Five of his fingers were reaching close to your face, but instead of backing down you raised your hand and smacked his hand that was reaching for your face.

“Liar? I was being hones-”

You were knocked back by him.

Shigaraki had a firm grip on your throat, using your neck to support nearly his entire body, his pinky up in order to keep you from decaying for the time being. Steadily your oxygen was decreasing, slowly you were slipping unconscious, but with the tiny strength you had left… Instead of fighting him off, you elevated one hand to his cheek again. Placing it there tenderly while showing him a benevolent smile.

The compassion in your touch had caused him to release his grip on your throat before his pinky was able to make contact.

You were finally able to breath again after a few coughs, but you noticed his hands were still placed on either side of your head… He was looking down at you, his red eyes full of shock, and yours full of loving warmth.

You were both lost in one another’s eyes that you had both failed to realize the position you were both currently in…

Shigaraki laid above you on the couch, his right knee pressing in between your legs, and your hands caressing his face.“Tomura?”

Despite him trying to kill you seconds ago, your voice was full of concern for him. His crimson eyes began to soften… You could see though, there was something more in his eyes… Like, he felt guilty about something.

“Tomura? Are you oka-”

“Tenko… Tenko is my real name. Tenko Shimura.”

He leisurely began to sit up from you, but when he had moved his knee that was pressed in between you he heard a subtle noise… it was a subtle squish. He’s played plenty of R rated games to know… You were excited down there…

You however did not catch the noise your womanhood had made, you just continued to sit up with him.

“Tenko?” -you reached out with your hand, only to hesitate for a second before you gently place your hand atop of his- “Ya know… I like that name a lot more, Tenko. It’s got a nice ring to it, ~Teeennnnkkkooo.” Giggling softly you didn’t even catch that you placed your head on his shoulder, as your hand laid on his still.

Shigaraki stared down at you, all this contact was making him uneasy but at the same time, he felt this warm feeling in his chest. What was this? Why didn’t he push you off of him… Why were you… wet for him…

Holding your head, you smiled at the memory. He was a complex guy, but it would be so boring if he wasn’t. He really did make your life a bit more interesting, and in all honesty you wouldn’t want it to be anyone else in your life. 

“Tenk-Tomura, i know you have a lot to do still tonight, but do you think you could stay with me until i fell asleep. I know you need to find the others but i-”

“Shut up. Why would you think i wouldn’t stay?” 

Walking over to his computer desk, Shigaraki grabbed the gloves you made for him a few days after he told you his real name…

“Thanks for letting me go to the mall with you, Tenko! I really needed a new pair of shoes! Who was that kid you ran into? I saw you talking to him but-”

As soon as Shigaraki closed the door you gasped as he yanked down the zipper of your dress and pushed you onto the couch.

Shigaraki’s figure hovered over your nearly bare form, as he stared at your soul. He was devouring you and you were swimming into his brain. You both could feel everything about each other in that moment. You were both in love. Crashing his lips to yours, it was a bruising kiss, he didn’t know what to do, but he figured this was the way to do it. Yours and his breath synchronized. Unclasping your bra as he destroyed your panties, clothes were just a simple nuisance now.

Your hands were tangled in his hair as he rocked his hips deep against you. Shigaraki was too far gone in his moment of bravery, and the second he touched your hips… You yelped in pain. 

Looking down he saw that he had placed all ten of his fingers onto your soft flesh… Quickly removing his hands he removed himself off you.

“I’m leaving!”

He wanted to touch you, to feel you, to experience this desire with you… but… he would only end up killing you…

“W-Wait! Tenko! You can’t!”

“Why the hell now? It’s pointless for me to be here, i’m not injured.”

Flying off the couch you embrace him from behind, “Y-You can’t leave…-” He could feel your tears dampen the back of his hoodie… His teeth bitting at him already damaged lips, his fists balled up, if he stays you’ll be the one needing healing…

Moving his legs, Shigaraki drifted towards the door causing you let go of his hoodie…

“Please… It was an accident, you didn’t mean to, Tenko. I-I don’t hate you… I know it wasn’t on purpose.”

He laid his his forehead on your door, his hand carefully around the knob… 

“I-I was waiting to give you something, but i-” You wiped your face, “I didn’t know when to give them to you… I guess now would be the perfect time… Just… Don’t go, please… Tenko…” 

Rushing to your room, Shigaraki stayed next to door, all he had to do was twist the handle and leave, but… Something maybe him stay, he was curious at least to see what this stupid gift was.

Sprinting to his side you grabbed hold of his arm and placed the item in his palm, “Here, I made these for you! Now please, don’t leave me to be here alone tonight.”

Shigaraki saw a pair of gloves placed in his palm… The fingers were missing except for the pinky… 

“If you put these on, you won’t be able to use your quirk… You can… feel… and touch things without worrying about your quirk… you can-” You looked away from him, “…You can touch me…”

Slipping on the gloves you made for him so he couldn’t hurt you in his sleep, Shigaraki made his way towards you and his bed.

“What’s that look for?”

“Hmm? Oh nothing. Just remembering some things, that’s all.”

Shigaraki glared at you, but soon crawled into bed alongside with you.

“Tomura, thank you.”

“For?”

“For saving me today… and staying.”

His room was silent minus his computer screen buzzing…

“You belong to me, _____.” Pinning you down, Shigaraki’s gleaming red eyes gazed down at you. “And only me.”

Caressing his cheek you twinkle at him, “Who else would i belong to? I don’t know how you did it, but you captured my whole heart. I love you so much-” You began to whisper into his ear, ”Tenko Shimura

Pressing his forehead to yours, Shigaraki spoke with question, “Is that this feeling then? The same feeling i had that night i hurt you… Am i…”

“In love?” You giggled, “I think so, why else would you be here with me right, why else would you have saved me?”

His lips finally met yours. This was only the second time he has kissed you, and still he was unsure of what to do fully, but as you wrapped your arms around you guided him through the kiss as you did the first time.

His gloved hands move awkwardly around your body as your tongue traces his dried lips. Clumsily he opens his mouth to let you explore before he begins to move his mouth with your movements.

It’s getting hard to breath and you need to break the kiss for air, doing so you pulled back to see his messy blue locks hiding his face. Pushing his hair back so you can see his face, you can’t help but think how adorable he looks right now.

“Was that, better than the first time?”

Pressing your head to his you laughed, “Much! You’re actually a pretty decent kisser.”

Pushing your head with his, Shigaraki kisses you once again, but this time… he was the dominant one.

Discarding your both your clothes, Shigaraki lined himself up with your entrance, but before he pushed inside you he remembered how your attacker had gotten your top down and your breast out… Shigaraki remembered that some piece of trash had his hands on you…

“He had his hands on you…”

“Hmm?”

“He touched you… I’ve never been so enraged… I want to erase his touch…”

Grabbing you by the hips, Shigaraki then spread your beautiful legs and  aimed his hard, ready to explode cock directly at your waiting pussy. His lips locked onto yours as he slid it inside of you slowly, filling you and causing you to shift your hips to accept it. You couldn’t get used to his size, even after the first few times. A gentle rhythm began and you matched him, bucking your hips to meet each stroke. You both remained in sync. Slowly the pace increased and he could hear his own voice groaning as the warmth of your cunt enveloped his cock over and over again. Moaning into his mouth as your tongues danced in concert with the music his locked cock and your cunt created. Wrapping your legs around Shigaraki’s back you then used him to pull your own ass off the bed as he withdrew and pulled himself back as he plunged into your cunt again. Shigaraki’s chest was rubbing against the raw flesh on your breasts as you both fucked. You broke your mouth away from his and buried your head in his shoulder, your arms holding on for dear life and your gasping breath made his shoulder damp. 

“Am I hurting you?” he rasped.You felt a sudden powerful fierceness, as if a challenge had been issued. You smiled into his shoulder, "No,“ You said, “But I want you to.” Shigaraki’s devilish smile returned. Grabbing you violently and pushing his cock deep inside of you, your head flew back as you gasped at the impact and the pleasure. Never in your life had you felt anything so satisfying as his flesh pounded into you. For a few minutes you were paralyzed. Your eyes wide and tearing up with the ecstasy. You stared blankly as he fucked your body into oblivion. Railing ruthlessly against your pelvis. Shigaraki held your wrists up over your head and pinned them to the mattress with his protected hands. Laying you out like a helpless doll. Your tits bounced with each thrust he made and your entire being was rocked. You began orgasming so powerfully that you started to squirt. The wet slapping of his flesh against your own grew ever harder and more violent. 

You moaned out his name, “Tenk- Tomura! Right there! Please keep going!” He moved his hands from your wrists to your throat and clasped them tightly. His face was alive with all of his spirit, his eyes aflame with savage desire. The faster and harder he thrust the more tightly and more desperately he closed his hands around your throat. You were floating in a mist of ecstasy, your body limp and completely destroyed. You were cumming uncontrollably. Squirting and pulsing as if your body were losing all control, and then he gave a final, earth shattering thrust as he came inside you. Coating your walls with his milky white seed.Falling upon you. Both of you were heaving and sweating and completely entranced by the power of this drug called sex. You kissed him and tasted blood. You had both bitten each other so hard that both of your lips were bleeding…

“I’ll never leave, ___…” With his eyes closed, Shigaraki had drifted off to sleep while laying on top of you.

Smiling to yourself, you played with his hair and traced your finger tips across his lean back.

“Me either, Tenko…”

Embracing the night with him you closed your heavy eyes and joined him in sleep… Sadly though, neither of you knew… This would be the last night you two would embrace one another for quite some time… If ever again…

[bakugou-tm]

Why (Bakugou x Reader Song Fic)

So this is a small one-shot I had been planning on making based on the song Why by Sabrina Carpenter. I wasn’t sure why but for some reason the lyrics reminded me of a relationship Bakugou would have with his signifcant other so with each lyric I made a short scenario, then combined it into the full meaning of the song and their relationship. (The bolded words are the lyrics of the song) Sorry if this comes off complicated, it did sound better in my head. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy! This is my little thank you for 2K Followers! xx 

You Like Tokyo in the Daytime, I like Tokyo in the Nighttime

“Wake the hell up you little gremlin.” 

The sharp voice wasn’t nearly as bad as the harsh feeling of the sheets being ripped from over your head, the cool hair stinging into your skin causing you to hiss before peeking an eye out to the annoyed voice.

Before you stood your boyfriend with his workout clothes already on and an annoyed expression to match the whole look together.

“B..Babe it’s like seven in the morning.” You groaned while burying your face back into the pillow with a huff.

This was only for the pillow to be yanked from beneath your head, causing your face to smack flat against the comforter.

“And your fatass needs to be up by now or you’d sleep till twelve in the afternoon!” Bakugou replied in a snarky tone, though his gentle actions of tugging you up from the bed juxtaposed his harsh words.

Begrudgingly you took his warm hand and stood up shakily, holding onto his chest while you stretched out your back,

“You suck you know that Katsuki?”

Chuckling quietly the ash blond ran his fingers up and down your back to help stretch it out before helping you get into your workout clothes for the day.

But when the sun began to fall and the moon began to rose, you got your revenge on the stubborn boy tenfold.

“I woke up at the crack of dawn for you, now you get to go out with me!” You whined, tugging at Bakugou’s arm while he stubbornly remained on the couch.

The ash blond let out a sharp growl, his eyes shooting holes into your own while he tugged his arm back to him causing you to fall back onto his lap with him.

“That’s all the reason more why we should fucking stay here.” The ash blond hissed to you, his eyes narrowed while you looked up to him with puppy dog eyes.

Not even your wide (e/c) orbs were making him budge this time, your shoulders beginning to slouch as your lip slowly folded over into a pout, “But I don’t wanna be all alone Katsu, being out with you is fun!”

“Of course it fucking is, but not for me!” Bakugou replied, whipping his head to the side to avoid your desperate eyes causing you to frown.

You couldn’t win everytime, with a sigh you slid off his lap and stood up, earning the boys attention when you grabbed your jacket from the coat rack.

“Fine.. I guess I’ll have to go out by myself.” You said with a dramatic sigh, shuffling your feet over to the door before opening it up until a firm hand slammed it shut, causing you to yelp when you looked back to see the ash blond glaring down to you.

“You suck you know that (S/o)?”

Blinking for a second, it didn’t take long for your eyes to light up while you watched the stubborn hero slip on his sneakers for the night.

You Say You Like Sleeping with the Air Off. I Don’t, I Need It On

Cuddling at night was always a battle zone in your shared apartment with Bakugou. Just as the ash blond shut the air off before cuddling up next to you, you would slip out of his grasp claiming you had to ‘use the restroom’ before tip toeing to the air to turn it down low.

These quick escapes would go on back and forth until the heavy feeling of tiredness made the two of you cranky.

“Oi, where are you going?” Bakugou growled, gripping your hip on yet your third time to get up, causing you to look back to him.

“I’m going to the bathroom again babe, I drank a lot of water.” You mumbled in a pretend tired voice while tugging at his grasp to get up before he yanked you back in the bed.

With a yelp you flipped over to his side to see his crimson eyes glowing down to you in the dark room, “Bullshit, you’re turn the air down.”

“Obviously, it’s like a sauna in here!” You whined, your lip pouting out while you tried to squirm out of his grasp even though his grip was solid on you.

Bakugou pressed you up against his chest, massaging the top of your head until your attempts to break away from him stopped with a defeated sigh.

“Go to fucking bed already you little shit, the air stays off.”

You Like the Light Coming Through the Windows, I Sleep Late So I Just Keep Em’ All Closed

You were sleeping peacefully in your shared bed, you were cuddled up in your boyfriend’s warm embrace, you were completely relaxed on that cool winter morning.

That is, until the sound of metal sliding across metal filled your ears followed by a bright light shining against your closed lids. It was till that moment you released your boyfriend’s warm embrace was absent leaving you alone in the bed.

Groaning softly you rolled over on your side to sure enough see Bakugou standing at the curtains, the bright morning sun creeping into your room while the ash blond shuffled over to you.

“Rise and shine doll face.” Bakugou grumbled softly, sitting on the side of your bed while playing with your (h/c) locks that fell along your face.

Letting out a quiet whine you shifted your head from your pillow to his lap while looking up to him with a pout, “Katsu.. it’s not even a work day.”

“It’s almost nine o’clock you little gremlin,” Bakugou replied with narrowed crimson eyes, “We can’t sleep in till lunch time again.”

Biting your lip you looked up to the stubborn man. You really wanted to sleep till lunch time again, cuddled up in Bakugou’s embrace for just awhile longer. 

“Pleasee come back in bed with me Katsuki?” You pleaded, using his toned arm to slowly climb up him so you could be sitting up along side him, “I..I’m so exhausted from yesterday’s mission and I know you are too.”

The ash blond looked down at you with unimpressed eyes, your begging not seeming to get to him. Little did he know, you knew his very weakness: Praising him.

“You can’t blame me for wanting to cuddle with you all day,” You huffed, your soft fingers lacing through his ash blond locks while you rested your chin on his shoulder, “You’re just so attractive and warm, I find it.. addicting.”

Suddenly a tick went off inside the boy, his crimson eyes flicking down into your own as you whispered out those final words with those plump lips of yours and wide (e/c) orbs staring up at him.

Gritting his teeth the ash blond let out a growl before getting up from the bed just to flick the curtains shut with a screech. Smiling in delight you flopped back down in bed, waiting for him to crawl into bed right next to you.

While you were tugging some strings to get Bakugou to join you in bed once more, what you said wasn’t exactly a lie. His sharp features and exotic look really was handsome, and the way his muscular form forced your own to melt into him made you feel warm inside.

Letting out a content sigh now that you were wrapped back into your bakugou-cocoon you kissed at his nose before hiding your face into his neck.

A low growl rumbled in Bakugou’s chest at your signs of affection, his hand rising up the small of your back to pull you closer against him before letting out a sigh.

“You’re lucky i’m tired shitty girl.”

Cold outside and you’re just in that t-shirt, I have cold blood even in this sweater

The winter time was always terrible for you, but was always perfect for Bakugou.

On one of your morning runs with your active boyfriend, you mistakenly assumed a holed up sweater and leggings would keep you warm enough while the two of you ran but as you both stopped near the shoreline you soon found out how terribly wrong you were.

Admittedly the view of the pacific ocean was beautiful this early in the morning; birds flying just above the water, the sky dancing with soft colors while the sun slowly rose, the sound of the waves crashing against the sand. But even with all of these beautiful aspects, the constant cool breeze that was blowing against your skin relentlessly clouded your mind.

“H..How are you not freezing your butt off B..Bakugou?” You hissed in a shivered tone, your barely covered arms wrapped around your chest while you violently trembled next to your boyfriend on the bench that overlooked the smooth sea.

The ash blond looked down to you as if just noticing you were a shivering mess, one of his crimson eyes widening while he raised an eyebrow, “The hell are you talking about, it ain’t even that bad.”

Gritting your teeth your head whipped up to face his own, your (e/c) orbs glaring up into his while you let out a huff, “Well not everyone can wear a tank top and shorts in sixty-four degree weather.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened slightly at your sudden snapping at him before a grin flashed across his face, a chuckle escaping his lips while he looked back to the water.

“Well that sounds like a you problem, doesn’t it baby?”

As if you couldn’t get more annoyed with the cocky man sitting beside you, he made it possible. How dare he mock you when you were freezing to death! Even going so far as to use a sweet nickname on you, clearly dripping with sarcasm.

Pouting your lip out you brought your knees to your chest, growling a few curses under your breath before looking the opposite direction of Bakugou.

Upon your sudden decision to pout, the ash blond looked down over at you with knitted eyebrows while he tugged at your arm, “(S/o) you’re making a damn scene. It ain’t my fault you forgot your fucking jacket.”

Looking at the ash blond in the corner of your eye you only scoffed before resting your head down on your knees. It was bad enough you were going to freeze to death, the last thing you wanted to hear was his nagging.

Now clearly annoyed, Bakugou looked all around before letting out a defeated growl "Oi, come here shitty girl.”

When the ash blond was met with silence, your head not even moving an inch he grit his teeth, his eye beginning to twitch as he watched your stubborn form. If you weren’t going to listen, he would force you to listen.

Wrapping his arm around your waist he tugged you closer to him, a shriek escaping your lips until you found yourself up against Bakugou’s side.

“Hey who said you could-” You started before one of his calloused fingers was shoved against your lip, his crimson orbs glaring down into your own.

While normally this would have annoyed you to no end, making you want to shove yourself away from his grasp he was... warm. Wow he was actually really warm honestly, like a human furnace.

As if seeing your brain click to reality, Bakugou clicked his tongue before keeping his arm securely around your waist, allowing you rest your knees in his lap while you cuddled up to his side, your goosebump covered arms wrapping around his torso.

“Thank you Bakugou.” You muttered into his neck, closing your eyes softly while letting the sound of the waves and the ash blond’s warm embrace carry you into a soft slumber.

You Ignore the Music on the Radio. I Don’t, I Sing-A-Long

For once the two of you doing something you both were excited to endorse, hiking. Bakugou had been a few times as a child but you never had, giving the ash blond the idea to take you hiking on some nearby mountains.

Now the two of you sat in Bakugou’s parents Audi while he peacefully drove along the beautiful mountains. The car ride there was seemingly relaxing, the first remainder consisting of you sleeping until it was about the time you normally woke up.

Now all that could be heard was the faint sound of the radio and Bakugou’s soft huffs every time the GPS told him to take a turn at the next stop sign.

While most people would find the silence awkward, you and Bakugou found it nothing short of calming. Both of your reaching that level in your relationship where you could be completely silent with each other while being so comfortable with one another at the same time.

Letting out a quiet yawn you kept your eyes out the window, your eyes flicking across the new landscape that you passed. That is, until the familiar sound of lyrics caught your ears’ attention.

“Let's go all the way tonight

No regrets, just love

We can dance until we die-”

Suddenly your eyes lit up that the familiar song, your head whipping to the radio before you giggled and turned up the music before singing out the next lines, “You and I, We'll be young forever!”

The sudden sound of the music being turned up and your voice filling the air of the car startled Bakugou for a second, his crimson eyes shifting to your form before he quickly turned the radio down his eyes narrowing, “Oh hell no... don’t you even start-”

“You make me, feel like I’m living a, tee-nage dream the way you turn me on!” Your voice suddenly cried, a large grin on your face while you cranked the radio back up causing the blond to growl while glaring at your form.

Giggling at his negative reaction you grabbed your phone in one hand to act as a microphone before pointing over to him, “Let's runaway and don't ever look back, don't ever look back!”

“I will leave your annoying ass on the side of the road.” Bakugou hissed, though his empty threat had no effect on you as you only became more animated with your singing. Your excited singing turning into a full blown concert in the passenger seat of Bakugou’s car.

“My heart stops, when you look at me.” You sung at the top of your lungs, holding your free hand over your heart before stroking your hand along Bakugou’s arm, “Just, one, touch, now baby I believe this, is, real-”

Upon your sudden touch the ash blond full blown looked at you now as he appeared to a stop sign only to find your eyes lovingly looking up to his own. Not only were you singing, he was just realizing you were singing the lyrics about him.

Great, now he was flustered and annoyed.

Jerking his head to the side he let out a string of curses before slamming his foot on the gas to drive forward while you continued your mini concert with a wild grin, “So take a chance and don't ever look back, don't ever look back!”

I don’t ask for you to change, baby no no no, and you don’t ask for me to change...

Tell me how we’re not alike but we work so well, and we don’t even know why.

Funny how the stars crossed right ‘cause we works so well, and we don’t even know why.

You can call it fire and ice but we work so well, and we don’t even know why.

Somehow we end up on the same side, and you wouldn’t think that we’d be alright. 

Even our eyes are different colors, but we see fine.

From close friends the two of you went to school with to even random people on the street, the relationship you and Bakugou had always appeared a mystery.

If two people could be born polar opposites of each other, you two would be it. So how did you two work so well? This question wasn’t just asked by others, but also by the two of you yourselves.

There was no doubt the two of you wondered why you were attracted to each other so much, the two of you disagreed all the time but for some reason you seemed to... complete each other.

But even with the world and even yourselves often doubting the power of your relationship, it was clear the two of you were practically made for each other. Clear in ways that the two of you sometimes never even noticed...

Bakugou being an early bird and you being a night owl? Even with the two of you despising each others daily routines, you still went out with Bakugou at seven in the morning to make him happy for once, and he still went out with you to make sure you were protected at all times.

You being a hotbox and Bakugou refusing to turn the air on? Though he knew you were sweating your little booty off, it was more important to him that he had enough nitroglycerin to be able to protect you if some villain were to break into your home. Deep down he felt guilty, but your well being was number one priority.

Bakugou enjoying the light from the windows and you preferring the darkness? Without a doubt the ash blond preferred to be up and active with you, but when he surrendered back to the bed with you he wasn’t tired, he just couldn’t help but want to pull your body close up against his and whisper sweet things in your ears unconsciously while you slept.

You always being freezing while Bakugou remained a human furnace? How much more perfect could that setup get? Though Bakugou comes off as rather cold, giving excuses like ‘you’re making a scene’, the ash blond really just wants to share his warmth with you. He wants to see your smiling lips and feel your small form up against his body. No matter what the stubborn boy says, his guilt and want for you in his arms trumps his stubbornness any day.

Bakugou ignoring the radio while you sung along to it? Bakugou may act annoyed the entire time you sang but anyone could call his bluff, especially if they caught the way his crimson eyes watched you in the corner of his eye and the way his lips curved into a small smile as you danced along to the music. The way your adorable form got excited over a simple love song made his heart skip a few beats.

Your relationship with the explosive blond was... confusing to say the least. At first glance it might not look like the two of you go together, but everybody knows that... you two belong. The bond you two share being stronger than any bond the two of you had ever held.

We like it in the daytime, we like it in the end of time.

[ramblingshit]

Jane Eyre - 1996 - 2/5

what even is acting. what even is a script.

wasn't gonna do this one but fuck it's aunt petunia and rogue. here we go.

lots of credits fairo. more credits. damn fukin eh - i hear you're a wicked child! lol hi. now we're talking about hell and where bad people go. 'keep well and not die' ahaha m8. fkn reed putting seed in that she's a liar. teach her at her prospects, don't let her come back, she's a lying little shit take her away from here. he's appropriately scary oh shit she's saying this in front of the priest. damn tear that lady a new one. unruly, obstinate, wicked, deceitful, man these people hate kids who act out. walks in and damn she's on teh stool already - IS THAT THE LADY FROM PERSUASION. damn she just got here and he's telling everyone to not trust her, she doesn't get to eat and has to stand - she's just done hours of travelling fuckin assholes. IT IS THE LADY FROM PERSUASION. shes got dark hair and dark eyes and shes like glaring at everyone like shes onna kill him in their sleep. lol enjoy helen while she's alive. eatin bread and cheese in bed like she's not gonna get crumbs. omg telling these kids how to stand properly what why this lady hate her she's gonna cane her for not washing her hands. bish doesn't even flinch go helen. 'cleanliness is next to godliness' alright crazy. this school is a lot more chill than most of the others - they're laughing and doing what they want as well as learning and playing games. making jane out to be a pro artist. oh no ol mate saw her with her hair out. no dont cut it. 'vanity?' shes out here with naturally long, red and curly hair and he's out here calling her vain? because he recognises it as lovely she must be vain about it? what a fkn dickhole get off your high horse sexist moron pig anus head. what. he's saying her naturally  iwgh what i don't even understand his shit - it isn't offending him thats the issue its her naturally occuring sin and vanity (because her hair exists?) that is the issue??  what. lol go Jane. NO. oh fuck go Jane go. this guyyyy. don't do it Jane. chin held high she only does it when Helen nods at her to. DAAAAAAAAMN. took of her own bonnet. if Helen's hair goes so does Janes. they stood together looked at each other and flipped their heads over for him to go snip snip, bish looked shock and actually stepped back in horror. What a bae. Helen's fkn dying send help. fuck this lady should not be working with children considering how much she hates children. o shit where's helen. her beds all rolled up. can hear her hacking away in the distance. yikes that sounds bad. jane be creepin. oh fuck she's a terrible actress even as a kid. who honestly thinks its a good idea to hire her. she lying in her dying friend's bed and she's breathing all over her. isn't anna paquin australian? no? ah new zealand fairo. oh fuck Helen's daed. she's trying to squeeze out tears ahah oh no. she can't manage it. anna go back to new zealand you suck at acting who hired you ever. Riparoonies helen. that was actually the greatest jane and helen moment i've seen tbh. oh damn cool transition as she walked from helen's grave - she went from kid to adult. whats this part down the midde all of them got. Miss Temple fam, persuasion lady, fantastic lady, crying as Jane leaves like her mumma. this jane is long-flat-faced with a long protruding jaw, and very tall and skinny. thornfield looks like its already burned down ahaha. straight up castle here. she's got her drawing stuff as well as her bag. nice friendly ol mate meets her and opens the gates - big ass square this is some game of thrones shit yearh this place is like medieval more than victorian. the middle parted hair and the curled twists behind her head they're pretty much exactly the same in most Janes. all chillin and chatting about this together rather than completely separate. adele actually legit sounds french rather than just pretending? noice. dreary, cold, dark halls. her room is bright and airy with a four-poster bed and bay windows and lots of very nice furniture. river runs beside it; enormous tapestries; main gallery with lots of furniture and paintings and sculpures all covered in sheets with windows open to let in light; the doors are very large and heavy. Janes got a very long neck she looks legit like a fkn swan lmao. ooh a rochester backstory. well-travelled, intelliegent, can't tell if he's talking in jest or in earnest, or if he is pleased or irritated, not a happy man. they're just walking about in his rooms. the sun shines bright but cannot reach them through the thick mist. they're very soft-spoken. god her head is so far forward she's like the alien - long ass neck stretching forward and then her chin and jaw stretching wayyyy forward. wack wack anatomy.  it's very dark and dreary. she's off for a walk leaving adele to do like 5 sums. oh she's been here five minutes and they're already meeting. the music is like ... not appropriately intense? he just sorta looked at her, the horse tripped over and then he was on the floor and she's like whoops uh you alright bro. he's outright lying and pretending that he's not rochester his hair is grotty he's got like no hair on top they've just tries to scraggle it. this is so stunted and awkward. i hope it gets better. he's very gentle and she's pretty nonexistent to far. my god very gentle man. what. is he even rochester? that's a german shepherd. noice. playin chess by himself by the fire lol. this movie would be made infinitely better by an actual soundtrack. they're all chilling together again it's interesting - adele and fairfax and rochester and jane. wait she's been here 4 months. it literally didn't show anything about her chilling here. she talked back and now he's grumpy lol. what a terrible start compared to like... every other first convo. isn't she supposed to be not great at piano and yet she's teaching adele -- wait now we're at another convo between the duo. this convo is the other half of --- wait now we're talking sketches? jesus she hmm what are they talking about she's being forward and fuck her chin twists forward as she speaks she kinda looks like the wicked witch of the west. he's judging her drawings like he can do better. this is a mess? the best part about this so far is adele.  there's no sense of time. adele is gorgeous honestly. she's pale and gaunt with bags beneath her eyes. wait here's the next part of the conversation. blunt and brusque replies from her. god they're so obviously acting its painful. they have no chemistry because the CONVERSATION IS ALL OVER THE PLACE. they've done it on pruspose to try stretch things out a bit but like plz EY why he scrunch up the drawing wtf. 'and remember the shadows are as important as the light'. dudes. these are private conversations? it would be alright to try it more naturally but they're just not the kind of things you casually say. it's impersonal and there's no intimacy. sit there and watch a kid dance to the sound of a music box. he's so grumpy looking. now snapping at the kid. he's annoying. like a violent dude he feels more like a nice guy quick to snap - definitely kinda unhinged. and now drunk. hmm i don't like it. she told him not to be mean to adele and he rages about her mother, 'you've made adele feel unwanted and unloved' damn this Jane goes for the throat. she's too good for him I can see it now m8. he's a psycho run. red flag red flag. don't like it. lol he wake up like huh.... oh look beds on fire... huh... well suppose i should sort it out... huh... fuck they're barely acting huh. do they even want to be here. how much are these guys getting paid. he's literally a drunk. and has she had a drink in her life? she just went for it? omg so impersonal - isn't he supposed to be already half in love with her by this point? camera angle just flicks forward and back as the conversation goes on and when theres action it just pans back to the widest shot ever lol just show the entire scene why give any emphasis or focus to anything who needs reaction shots and feelings of being in it rather than observing it. fkn ey. he's literally just an angry blitering brooding drunk yikes. he's staring at her tits? these conversations man... he definitely just said jade instead of jane. m8 don't tell me he didn't. there's more intimacy between all the servants and jane and feeling more like an actual squad living together than there is any feeling between rochester and jane. adeles got a frog lol cute. 'you're a fool,' jane tells her reflection. this music is so shit it's bringing everything down. rochester, who's been an unfeeling ass the whole time, holds her hand once and now she's got a big crush on him. she's very spirited - to the point where she could too easily be cruel. like it's not just a repressed forcefulness it's like a hidden rage. can see her going mad and chopping someone up with icy rage and poised pleasure. wonder if i'm in a mood and interpreting this wrong? but honestly. dancing rochester now? instead of singing. adele is glaring at Mrs Ingram who just insulted jane lolol go kid she's definitely the best part. the background people actually make this place feel alive and natural, completely unlike their FUCKING AWFUL conversations. jesus what. god could you have two people less interested in each other? i think this fairfax knows about bertha. there's a 'tapestry bedroom'? lol what does that mean. they're dancing, playing cards, piano, the lot. oh the walls are literally covered in tapestries, that's creepy af. theres so much blood my dude would be dead yo. will hurt like doesn't know how to act. wwait theyve skipped my 'fav scene'?? theyre shaking hands again, wtf is this. wait what shes just met stjohn n he;s the one telling her all about the reeds? petunias dying 'love me then or hate me as you will - you have my full and free forgiveness' - i cant forgive any version that misses that out: its so powerful as part of her character. stalking her while he smokes in the dark what a creeper. 'how cuold you be so stupid!' lol fight him Jane i dont even know how we got to kissing likr the movie is almost 2 hours and yet it feels SO rushed. literally took away all the secret courting and his sneaky declarations. shes a modern woman trapped in an old age.  she is so skinny. and with entirely stiff expressions. ew he makes me so uncomfortable. theyre not even trying lol. acting ey acting have u heard of it. just left jane at the altar like bye bitch.shes just in a giant empty ugly room. bertha is a very young and frightened girl but also very sick in the typical long white dress and long dark hair. god this guy is a whingebum. bertha understands everything he's saying. oh yikes lol she just whipped a log from the fire and went after Jane and Jane just put her veil back down with like a sigh turned and yeeted slowly away long ass veil over a white bonnet, silk cape thing in a dark hallway walking all miserable. she's outies lol he's just let her walk out? i love u and i love u. bye. bertha's taken another log from the fire and lit the wedding dress on fire along with the house ahaha. wait he let her leave the house then ran after her on horseback but had to stop after bertha lit the place on fire it started burning and we're actually seeing it happen? interesting. the house is burning, pepople are running, bertha's on the battlements and rochester is going up there to --oh fuck grace poole got yeeted over by bertha oh she's flying ahahaha jumped down to where she threw grace poole. rochesters in the fire. jane's off and racing. it's all happened at once. she went to stjohns, didn't even get dumped in teh marshes but down she goes after chilling in a coach for 3 days. shes been there a month. her jaw is so long and forward its creepy. again one fo the few telling her that she's wealthy from inheritance from her uncle. more backstory. she was deeply loved by her parents, now she's wealthy, lifes looking up but she's all upset after than asshole lol move on and be happy. she's hearing his voice on the wind like please chill. damn 6months. what. um. he's very awkwardly trying to propose? but its like the last half of the conversation with the first bit just cut out. so weird. she looks normal face-on. oh she decides after the proposal to go back - none of that chasing after voices nonsense. whoops that shit burned downnn. doggoooo is still alive. what a good boy. fuck me there's like no anticipation, no intensity, no build-up, no chemistry, it's so dry and cold and heartless. christ acting. act. acting. act. please. act. what is happening. act. she has the neck of a swan ol mate. fucking gross. their words are stilted, and not romantic in the slightest and especially not in their delivery. theyre walking with no kids but the dog but they're talking about the kids. oh my god. that was pretty fkn awful. like seriously not good.

[alexiela73]

Thank you so much for doing my request it was awesome! Mind if I request another from you? Possibly something a bit angsty or sad with hanzo. He is gone for an extremely long missions and when he comes back his s/o is sick, like almost dying. He urges for people to help her and even gets mad at her for not taking better care of herself, but all she can talk about is how happy she is to see him home safe. She could pass or we could see her live, whatever you like.

I like it.

I think the McCree one was sadder but I like it. There be fluff too

The flight was long, but all Hanzo could think of was you. How long it had been since he’d last seen you. And the fact that at the beginning of the flight, he had been passed a note by a man waiting, who had shown his Overwatch badge to him. What he’d read had made his blood run cold. Without delay he’d gotten on the flight.

Of course, it wasn’t easy infiltrating a Talon base. But Hanzo had been up for the task, and at the time you had been proud of him for offering to go as well. This job in Overwatch seemed to make Hanzo happy, since it helped others. Made him feel like perhaps he was redeeming himself for the past. As long as it made him happy, then it made you happy to.

Hanzo rarely had a chance to talk to you, as most communicators were down in case of them getting found or hacked. For the time he did talk to you, Hanzo had been brief. Every time, you had sounded just relieved to hear his voice, to know he was safe and every time, Hanzo had forgotten to take the time and remember to cherish you in your brief talks.

The flight touched down almost thirteen hours after it had taken off. Hanzo had managed to convince them to let him off first, and he was quick to leave, not even bothering with his luggage. 

A taxi took him to the hospital, where he knew you would be. Both of you had known that that you were sick before he left, but the doctors said you would be fine. That it was rarely life threatening.

This was almost four months ago, before Hanzo had left for this mission. In all of that time, Hanzo…had been so wrapped up in his mission that he’d never asked if you were better, that he hadn’t thought the sickness would turn into something more.

It took almost ten minutes to find directions, and he was lucky he didn’t nearly snap off their head, his impatience growing more and more by the second. Anxiety laced through him and had been growing steadily since he’d received the note, but there had been no way to get to you faster.

The note itself wasn’t even from you- it was from Genji, his brother, who thought it important Hanzo be made aware of the situation at hand. Apparently you’d known for more then a month that you were ill, but had kept it secret as not to disturb his mission. 

It angered him that you thought anything was more important then you, that his mission  was more important to complete then coming home to take care of you. You mattered so much more, no matter how focused he’d seemed.

Striding briskly through the halls, it took everything in him not to bolt. To shove people aside and run for the room you were in. God, Hanzo was so afraid. He was so, so afraid of what he’d find, of what the doctors would tell him. All Hanzo knew is that he should have been here from the beginning, taking care of you.

When Hanzo got to your door, he felt like the air was knocked out of him. It was you, but there were dark circles under your eyes. You were pale, and very thin. Hanzo felt he like he was looking at a ghost, a shell of the woman he’d left four months ago. 

Covering his mouth, Hanzo tried to breath. He was shaking, and his legs felt weak. At that moment, you caught sight of him and your eyes…they were still so vibrant and full of life. 

“Hanzo!” you said, and even your voice sounded different. Softer, more raspy, like you were having a difficult time speaking. Immediately you held out a hand toward him. “I didn’t…I didn’t know you were back today. But I’m so happy to see you! How did the mission go?”

For the life of him, he didn’t know how to answer. Honestly, Hanzo wasn’t even sure he’d heard. The world was blurring in his eyes, but he forced back the tears that threatened to spill. All he could see was how small and frail you were, and know that the possibility of losing you was real.

And that plausibility caused quick, irrational anger.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Hanzo hissed, walking over and he took your hand, trying to be gentle. Your skin was so cold…

The smile didn’t disappear, and you tilted your head slightly. “It would have interfered, and besides, I’m going to get better,” you said, and you rubbed your thumb over his hand gently. “Was it a success?”

His other hand clenched into a fist and Hanzo tried so hard to relax, not to turn and punch something. This was the first time he’d ever felt violent urges in his anger, but he was beyond distressed.

“Who cares about the damned mission?” Hanzo snarls, barely able to keep his voice down. “You should have told me this over the phone! I would have come back to take care of you!”

Slowly you seemed to sink back a bit, a smile still tugging uncertainly at your lips as you stared up at him. “I-I…I didn’t want to disrupt your mission, Hanzo. It was important to you. Besides, I’m okay. It’ll be okay. There was no need for you to come take care of me-” you started to say.

A fist slammed down on the table beside the bed and the wood cracked under the force of Hanzo’s hand. He was breathing hard, and Hanzo was having a hard time making himself look at you. 

“Obviously there is,” Hanzo snaps, “because you can’t seem to take care of yourself. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t need me.” His voice comes out much more harsh then he could ever imagine. There’s a moment of silence as the two of you stare at each other, Hanzo breathing hard.

Slowly you pull your hand from his, and you look away, having to wipe the tears out of his eyes. “I always need you,” you whispered. “I always miss you. I know I’m a burden. But these missions make you happy, make you feel like your doing something important and that’s all I want in this world for you, for you to know happiness.”

The heat of Hanzo’s anger slowly died as he watched you wiping away your tears, and he felt only shame as you started to turn away. This was the first time he’d managed to make you turn from him, and he knew that his anger had been misplaced from the beginning. And to learn that you thought you were a burden to him…

All this rage came from the worry he’d felt, and the anger Hanzo felt towards himself for not being there when you needed him. In the end, he had hurt your feelings over something silly. You loved him, and you had kept your illness secret so that he could focus. So that Hanzo would not freak out the way he was now. So that you wouldn’t be a bother.

“Beloved, I….I’m sorry. That…was inexcusable of me,” Hanzo said, pushing the hair from his face and feeling like a monster. “I did not mean to yell at you. You did not deserve it….I am only angry at myself.”

Hanzo sat on the edge of the hospital bed and reached over to slowly but gently rub your arm through the heavy blanket. He can’t help but be extra cautious, in fear that you might break by even the smallest touch.

Sniffling, you stared at the wall ahead. “Do you know…how often I feel like a nothing but a nuisance to you? I thought…maybe you’d have missed me too when you came back…” you whispered, your fingers clutching the edge of the pillow. Tears slid down your cheeks, and you felt rather pathetic for it.

The more you spoke, the worse Hanzo felt and after a moment he crawled into the bed behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his face into your neck. You still messed like vanilla and cherries, he thought vaguely, and it felt so good just to hold you.

The idea that you thought he wouldn’t have missed you….That you weren’t always on his mind was utterly outrageous. 

“I’ve missed you more then anything in this world, cherry blossom. I wake and sleep to the thought of you, knowing that you are mine to love and that I have you to return to. I...I am ashamed, for making you think otherwise. For making you feel like you were anything less then the love of my life,” Hanzo said softly, before turning you in his arms so you laid facing him. 

Gently his fingers wiped away your tears. “I love you, y/n. So much...You have never been a burden on me. If anything, I’ve been a burden on you. And I want you to know you are the most important person in my life...so please...forgive me,” Hanzo said softly, pressing his forehead to yours, hoping that you could forgive him for being so rude and unkind, and letting his temper get away with him.

You sniffled, but it was extremely hard to resist when looking into his eyes and being held in his arms. You weren’t sure if you believed him when he said that you were not a burden, but you believed him when he said he hadn’t meant his earlier outburst.

Slowly you nestled against him, pressing your cheek to his chest. “I’ll always forgive you, Hanzo. I love you,” you whispered, and enjoyed the warmth of his body in the bed. “The doctors said that they could release me in a few days, provided I make sure to take the medicine they prescribed daily.”

“And take it you will, “ Hanzo said gently, pressing a soft kiss to your head. Relief filled him, now that he knew it would be okay. Now that he knew that you would be okay.

Hesitating, you blushed a little. “Will...will you stay with me? I want to stay in your arms a bit longer....” you said, feeling embarrassed to be asking this.

Hanzo lifted your face and gave you a soft kiss. “Of course, my cherry blossom,” Hanzo murmured, before the two of you nestled together for the evening.

[drx3-imagines]

Could I ask for a scenario where izaya’s s/o ends up taking a hit from Shizuo for him?

Trigger warning for graphic descriptions of blood and injury for anyone with a weak stomach!

No-one had ever prided you on your common sense for a reason. This moment was no exception either. Honestly, who would praise someone for throwing themselves in front of the fist of the strongest man in Ikebukuro to save the scum of that very same city.

The answer would be you, apparently. All because you loved that scum. Luckily, that scum loved you too because faster than Shizuo could blink, Izaya had stabbed him in the hip and dashed off in the opposite direction to chase after you, who was currently flying through the air.

The scent of blood filled your nose, your entire body aching as the impact of the pile of construction materials hit you like a truck, or rather, a Shizuo. You pathetically skidded down onto the pavement, legs weak and one most-likely broken. You tried to reach forward and take a look at your twisted arm to no avail; a broken arm and a broken leg, just what you need. The people in the area had scattered, not many being very willing to help, considering it wasn’t hard to guess who had done this. Even you wouldn’t have been too keen on staying around to wait for Shizuo if you had actually been his target and weren’t used to his behavior already.

Fortunately, you weren’t stuck waiting for very long as Izaya’s blurry form came towards you at an alarming pace. Your breathing was a bit heavy, forcing you into a violent coughing fit when you chuckled, never having seen him so distraught. Your head was feeling light, lungs tight in your chest and preventing you from speaking very well as Izaya picked you up gently, breath still a bit heavy from running the way he did. “What,” you said, voice shaking, “are you gonna carry me all the way to Shinra’s, noodle arms?” Your voice was amused; obviously, you hadn’t noticed the gravity of the situation.

You also hadn’t seemed to notice the loose pipe sticking out of your side.

Izaya was already moving, thinking of the shortest route there before he even bothered to reply, “____, you need to stop talking, you need to rest.” His voice was stern and all too serious compared to his usual mischievous charm; you had to admit it worried you. What little rationality you had left in you with the fuzzy feeling in your body taking over told you to listen.

“Okay,” your eyelids drooped, the feeling of Izaya’s movements beginning to lull you to sleep, “‘m tired anyways.”

Izaya could almost feel his heart stop in his chest once your words registered in his mind, almost screaming out when Shinra’s apartment complex came into view, “Relax, I meant relax! ____, you need to stay awake, we’re almost there.” He ran through the open entrance of the building, thankful to have been behind another pair entering the doors, before charging up the stairs. He didn’t want to bother waiting for the elevator or the inevitable stops it would make on the way up.

He did his best not to jostle you too much, your eyelids drooping dangerously. Before you knew it, Izaya was kicking Shinra’s front door and then carrying you inside once it had been opened. The vague glimpse of Celty’s suit is the last thing you saw before complete darkness consumed your vision.

You awoke to a beeping, loud and clear and far too close to your ears. Hesitantly, your eyes opened, shutting immediately upon being greeted with a bright overhead light. Your hands made an attempt to raise up and rub at your face and clear your vision, halting immediately at the pain that shot through your left arm before you let out a curse, gruff from the lack of use your voice had been given over the span of however long you were asleep. You winced, turning your head to face away from the light and look around once more.

As your senses began to clear and feeling came back to most of your body, you could make out the sound of voices mumbling in a nearby room. The familiar image of Shinra’s apartment registering in your mind and the ache in your bones coming at you with full force. The loud, pained groan seeming to silence the unidentified murmurs immediately, footsteps coming closer with every passing moment.

“Oh, good, you’re awake!” Shinra’s cheery voice did nothing to help with an oncoming headache and you set a level stare on him, his glasses reflecting the light above you and making you wince.

“Blind. I am blind now, thanks,” you coughed, a sharp pain spreading out from your side to cover every inch of your body, “Oh, what the hell!” Your uninjured arm flew to your side in an instant, gingerly prodding at the skin and taking in the feeling of the gauze wrapped around your waist. “Wait… Am I-,” you lifted your head as much as you could without worsening your already piss-poor state and glancing down; you sighed in relief to see your underwear. You were not, in fact, bare-ass naked on the kitchen table.

Your head thumped back against what you realized was a throw pillow from one of the living room couches and a sigh escaped you. Your head was pounding, every inch of your body ached, the unknown injury under the gauze on your stomach was freaking you out a little, and the beeping from the EKG Shinra dragged in was driving you batshit crazy. You rolled your head to the side, looking at Shinra once more, “Well, this is fun. Why the hell am I here?”

Shinra laughed, “Because I saved your life. You jumped between Izaya and a very, very angry Shizuo, you know?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him as the moment replayed in your mind, “Oh, please! A few broken bones aren’t life-threatening, Shinra.”

He met your eyes, the smile slipping a bit and making you wonder how much, exactly, you had gone through. “____, you were impaled.”

“Yeah, Tuesday night,” your tone was amused, taking Shinra’s words as a joke. That is, until he gestured towards the living room. You turned as much as possible, eyes widening at the sight. All across the couches were towels soaked in more blood than you thought the human body even carried. Numerous bowls were filled with bloodied water, needles, gauze, tweezers, and various other medical supplies. There was a red trail across the wooden floors leading from the door and pooling near the table. It looked like a crime scene or a bloodbath out of some horror movie. Then you saw it, the bloodied pipe lying on the couch wrapped in a towel beside two empty bottles of rubbing alcohol. “That… That was in me?” Your voice was disbelieving, the thought of being that close to death was jarring. Even more so was another realization; Izaya had come to you. He had carried you all the way there, bleeding- dying in his arms.

“Where is Izaya,” it was not a question, your tone having lost all of its prior amusement. You knew him better than you knew yourself and you were almost sure that if the very real closeness of death made your stomach flip, you could only imagine how Izaya was now. He was cruel, detached, and oftentimes self-centered, but he was very, very human. More so than most others you’ve met. Not many things meant something to him apart from you and his extremely short list of friends.

You stared at Shinra intently, his own eyes softening, “He’s asleep in the other room-”

“He slept?” Izaya didn’t sleep often and when he did it wasn’t very much at all.

“I drugged him,” Shinra sighed, exasperated. He was probably replaying the argument he inevitably had upon telling Izaya he needed to rest.

You nodded, a smile gracing your features for a moment, imagining Celty tugging Izaya’s unconscious form into the guest room as Shinra worked. “Alright,” you moved to sit up, wincing and coughing, “I’m gonna go see him.”

Shinra’s brows scrunched up, confused. “____, you can’t walk.”

“That’s why you’re gonna roll my ass in there like a care package from the heavens,” you smirked. Both Shinra and yourself knew that if he didn’t take you, you would go yourself which could only end badly.

He adjusted his glasses before turning and grabbing the desk chair from the other room, wheeling it over to you and carefully helping you seat yourself. Every movement brought a wince and a grunt, eventually leading to Shinra dig painkillers out of his cabinet while Celty made a glass of water. Once the medicine was gone you were being carted down the hall and through an open door, the room dim as dawn had not fully approached yet. Once you were close enough to your boyfriend’s unconscious form, you started prodding at his side with your uninjured leg, toes curling to somewhat grip Izaya’s shirt before you began tugging petulantly. Your voice rose with impatience, “I~za~ya~! Wake up, you bastard! I got impaled and you get to nap? Up, up, up!”

With one just-beyond-gentle kick, he was flinching awake and grabbing your ankle, ready to tear you down to the floor with him when he got a good look at your face. His eyes darted to the gauze wrapped around your waist and his lips formed a tight line. “You’re in here, why?” Shinra’s eyes widened before he exited the room to leave the two of you alone.

That statement wasn’t directed towards him.

“I’m in here because I love you and enjoy seeing your face, you ass,” your brows furrowed, not understanding his hostility.

“For your information,” Izaya’s tone was cold, his movements stiff as he sat up to level his gaze with yours, “you’re injured, if you haven’t noticed. Also, you almost died for absolutely no reason. You should be resting.” His eyes softened slightly; the worry was evident under his apathy and anger.

“Then I’ll rest in here with you then,” you said matter-of-factly. Izaya opened his mouth to protest but you had already begun to move. Your cast tapped the ground roughly and you grunted, the pain raking through your muscles, the medicine’s effects still out of commission. Izaya’s arms were around you in an instant, easing you onto the futon beside him.

With a huff he pulled the blanket over you, scoffing at your proud smile. “You could have really died. Do you understand that?” The smile faded, your brows tugging together. You looked away from him guiltily, the blanket coming to cover your face. “I get hit by him all the time, you didn’t need to do that.” Those words made you turn, a determined stare meeting his eyes.

The same feeling you had when you jumped in front of him welled up in your chest once more. “You’re not the only one here who hates seeing their lover get beaten like a piñata!” Your shouting made Izaya reel back. You sounded sad almost, the images of Izaya getting hit by Shizuo or the various objects he threw at him were at the forefront of your mind, some instances ending more brutally than others. “I didn’t wanna see that again… You’re always picking fights and it sucks to watch sometimes.”

Izaya sighed, expression tired but understanding. If the way he felt watching you bleed out on Shinra’s table was the way you felt on any given day he was particularly unlucky, he definitely needed to tone it down a notch. He wasn’t too keen on it but if it would prevent you from pulling another stunt like this again, he’d do it.

“Fine,” he looked off to the side, avoiding your eyes, “I’ll leave the ignorant protozoan alone… kind of.” You laughed, leaning up as much as you could without pain, and placed a kiss on his cheek. Eyes closing as a cough racked your body before going back to soft laughter once more. Izaya gazed at you, watching your body relax against the futon. He leaned down, placing a gentle kiss against your lips and messing up your hair a bit, “Night, ____-chan.” You hummed in reply, turning your head towards his chest and allowing the drowsy after effects of the painkillers to lull you to sleep.

- Pasya