#i’m suddenly hit with a barrage of kisses

[getosbunny]

me and mister sae itoshi in our matching pjs at night when his cuteness aggression monster activates

[pucksandpower]

Say My Name

Oscar Piastri x streamer!Reader

Summary: when fans mistake Oscar for your ex while he is hanging around in the background of your stream, you get introduced to a side of Oscar that you’ve never seen before

Warnings: 18+ content

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you narrate the intense battle unfolding on your stream. “Oh damn, that was close! I almost got sniped there.” You lean in, eyes narrowed at the screen. “Gotta be more careful or this round is over.”

The chat explodes with messages cheering you on. Being one of the top female gaming streamers has its perks, like an incredibly loyal fanbase that hangs on your every word.

You glance at the viewer count — over 50,000 watching live. Not too shabby.

“Okay team, let’s rush B, I’ll try to draw their fire.” You move your character into position, heart pounding with anticipation.

Suddenly, a quiet thump comes from the living room behind you. You start, whipping your head around, but see nothing amiss through the open doorway. Must have been your imagination.

You refocus on the game, calling out tactics to your teammates. Another muffled sound, like something soft hitting the floor, catches your attention. You turn off your video and hit mute on your mic. “Hello? Is someone there?”

No response. You’re just about to unmute when a very familiar face pops into view from the hallway. It’s your boyfriend of nearly two years.

Your face splits into a huge grin as you take in his messy hair and the rumpled clothes he slept in on the flight. “Oscar! You’re back early!”

He crosses to you, bending to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Missed you,” he mumbles against your hair.

You tilt your face up for a proper kiss, “I missed you too, ba-”

But you’re cut off as his lips crash into yours, insistent and heated. Heat blooms in your cheeks at the sudden, passionate embrace. Far too soon, Oscar pulls away, leaving you flustered and breathless.

“Sorry,” he says with a smirk that suggests he’s anything but. “Couldn’t help myself.”

You shake your head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous. I’m working, you know.”

“So I noticed.” Oscar settles onto the couch just off-camera, casual as can be. “Don’t mind me, keep going.”

“You sure?” You eye him skeptically. The stream has been on a short period without your commentary and the chat is getting restless. “I can take a break if you want.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “No, no, I’m just going to hang out here for a bit. Go ahead.”

Hesitating only a moment, you turn your video back on and unmute your mic. “Alright folks, sorry about that little pause. I, uh, got a surprise visitor.” You gesture vaguely toward where Oscar lounges behind you.

The chat instantly lights up with questions about who was there. Smiling to yourself, you ignore them for now, re-focusing on the game.

Over the next hour, it becomes increasingly difficult to concentrate. Oscar keeps distracting you, making silly faces and gestures whenever you glance his way. More than once you have to stifle a laugh after catching sight of him. Your fans seem to find your giggly mood delightful, though they remain oblivious to the cause.

Finally, in a rare break between matches, you swivel in your chair to face him. “You’re being so disruptive,” you stage-whisper. “Don’t you have better things to do than pester me?”

Oscar feigns innocence. “Who, me? I’m just sitting here, love.”

Rolling your eyes, you stretch your arms overhead with a groan, back popping from sitting so long. Oscar’s gaze shamelessly rakes over you, darkening.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, fighting a smile.

“Like what?” His eyes glint with mischief.

You open your mouth to respond, but a new donation notification pops up on your stream, cutting you off. “Oh, wow, thanks for the ten thousand bits, Legend27!” The expensive donation isn’t that unusual, but the comment attached gives you pause.

I’m so happy you and Eric made up! You two are couple goals for real.

Frowning, you scan the new barrage of messages flooding the chat … and find dozens echoing similar sentiments.

Your stomach drops as you finally realize what your viewers think is happening. They assume Oscar is actually your ex, the one you briefly dated and had an awful breakup with over two years ago. Apparently his surprise appearance has led them to believe you two have reconciled.

Heat floods your face at the misunderstanding. Objecting seems pointless though — you’ve learned it’s better not to discuss your private romantic life on stream. “Ah, thanks guys, you’re too kind,” you finally say, aiming for a neutral tone.

Beside you, Oscar stiffens, catching the implications of the messages. His jaw clenches and you watch as his face cycles through a series of micro-expressions — first surprise, then confusion, quickly followed by displeasure and … jealousy?

Uh oh. This could get messy fast if he gets worked up. You try to subtly shake your head at him in a silent plea to ignore the chat.

No such luck. His brow furrows deeper and you can practically see the tension ratcheting up in his shoulders.

Suddenly, Oscar surges to his feet with a muttered curse. Before you can react, he’s stalking around the side of your chair until he’s directly in view of the camera’s frame.

“Oscar, what are you-”

But he cuts you off by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you hard. Your startled squeak is smothered by his fierce, possessive mouth moving over yours.

Powerless to resist the onslaught of sensations, you melt bonelessly against him as the kiss stretches on and on. Only the escalating number of notifications showing the shock and exclamations from your viewers finally breaks through the heady fog.

With extreme reluctance, Oscar ends the kiss, both of you panting. He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your flushed skin as he growls, “She’s mine.”

Then, before you can respond, he reaches past you and slams his palm into the power button of your streaming setup, shutting everything down.

The simultaneous howl of outrage from tens of thousands of confused fans cuts off abruptly as the screen goes black. Only the two of you are left in the ringing silence that follows.

“Oscar!” You finally manage. “What was that?”

He pulls away enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I got … jealous,” he admits, seeming almost surprised at his own vehement reaction. “When they thought I was your ex. I didn’t like that at all.”

Your expression softens at his uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. Reaching out, you trace his sharp cheekbone with gentle fingers. “You have no reason to be jealous, silly man. It’s only ever been you.”

Some of the blazing heat in his stare banks into smoldering embers at your reassurance. “Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Good.”

He leans in again until his lips are a hairsbreadth from yours. “Because you’re mine, okay? And I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, dizzy with wanting him. “I’m all yours, Oscar.”

The possessive words seem to flip a switch in him. With a low, rumbling sound of approval, his mouth slants over yours once more in a searing, demanding kiss that makes your toes curl.

The abrupt ending to your stream is already causing a social media firestorm of epic proportions. But surrounded by the circle of Oscar’s arms, his familiar warmth and love, you can’t find it in yourself to care even a little bit.

After all, you think dizzily as he deepens the kiss, your fans should have recognized that you two were a couple from the very start — because Oscar Piastri is most definitely not your ex.

He’s your everything.

***

Oscar’s hands are everywhere, seemingly unable to get enough of you as his kisses grow more and more fervent. Your back hits the wall with a gentle thump as he crowds closer, caging you in with the solid warmth of his body.

“Missed you so much, love,” he rasps against the heated skin of your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

A whimper escapes your lips at the scorching path his mouth blazes over your pulse point. “I m-missed you too, Oscar.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer and he rewards you by sucking a mark into the sensitive spot just below your ear. Pleasure zings along your nerves at the hint of delicious possession in the act.

When he finally pulls back to gaze at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips are reddened from enthusiastic use. The sight sends a molten flare of desire arrowing straight to your core.

“Say it again,” he commands roughly, voice gone low and gritty in that way that never fails to make you melt.

You blink up at him, momentarily lost in a lust-fueled haze. “W-What?”

“My name.” His large hands skim over the curve of your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt. “Say my name again.”

“Oscar,” you breathe without hesitation, watching raptly as his pupils blow wider at the sound. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...”

Each breathy iteration seems to stoke his hunger hotter. His fingers flex against your sides like he’s holding himself back from something.

On a daring whim, you slant your mouth near his ear, letting your lips brush the shell with every word. “Oscar Piastri,” you practically purr. “My Oscar.”

A broken groan is your only warning before he’s on you again, mouths crashing together in a heated crash of lips, teeth, and tangling tongues. His hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck, angling your face for deeper exploration.

When you finally manage to tear your lips away, you’re both panting harshly, chests heaving. “What’s … gotten into you?” You pant.

Rather than answer, Oscar just shakes his head and dives back in for more fervent kisses, like a man dying of thirst and you’re the most delicious drink he’s ever tasted.

It’s not until he suddenly grips your waist and spins the two of you around, depositing you on the desk with a surprising lack of finesse, that you realize just how wildly affected he is.

Oscar licks into the seam of your lips like he’s staking a claim and something within you shatters at the stark, naked wanting in his eyes when he pulls back the tiniest bit.

He just stares at you, chest heaving, gaze roving hungrily over your features like he’s memorizing you all over again. His pupils are blown wide, just thin rings of molten brown remaining around the black.

When he speaks, his voice is low and gravelly in a way that vibrates through you. “Say. My. Name.”

“Oscar,” you respond immediately, not even having to think. His hungry gaze burns over you and you feel stripped bare and vulnerable under the weight of it.

But rather than make you want to cover up, it has the opposite effect — you’re reeling him in, hands fisted in his shirt to pull him closer. You never want this delirious, frantic sense of possession and desire to end.

“Again,” he grinds out, sounding utterly wrecked already.

“Oscar.” You bare your neck for him as you say it, like presenting an offering. He groans low and deep, instantly ducking to mouth along the column of your throat.

His hands are everywhere, pushing up the hem of your top, kneading along your sides and ribs as he nips and sucks bruising paths across your collarbones and chest.

“Don’t stop saying it,” he orders, more plea than demand.

So you let his name become a breathless prayer falling from your lips, over and over between gasps and keening whimpers. You lose yourself in a heady feedback loop — the more you speak his name with naked wanting, the wilder it seems to drive him until his touch grows scattered and devouring.

At some point his hands finally succeed in tugging your shirt up and off. Your name doesn’t even register when his scorching mouth closes over one peaked bud, your back bowing at the shuddering bolt of sensation that lances through you.

All you can seem to process is the feel of his calloused palms mapping every inch of newly-exposed skin and the desperate mumble of “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...” spilling shameless and endless from your lips.

Eventually, the heated exploration of his mouth and hands becomes too much to simply lay there and take. With a low, guttural sound you haul Oscar upright and swing your legs around his hips, relishing his full body shudder.

“Not enough,” you accuse roughly, rolling your core against his in clear invitation. “Need you closer, Oscar.”

His heated groan at your wanton demand is music to your ears. Strong hands grasp your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist as he surges against you.

“So impatient, my darling girl,” he teases. This close, you can make out the faintest brush of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones that you’ve mapped and memorized with lips and fingertips a hundred times before.

You can’t help but reach out to graze them with your thumb, gazing up at him with naked adoration. “My Oscar,” you murmur reverently.

His eyes slip shut for a beat, jaw ticking as if your words have an unexpectedly profound effect on him. When he opens them again, his gaze is fierce and intent.

“Yours,” he vows simply, leaning in to seal the promise against the plush of your lips.

The kiss is somehow softer and headier than before. You get lost in the lush glide of his mouth, every sliding brush of lip and tongue shorting out whatever rational thoughts remain until all you know is his name — the shape and taste and weight of it against your own.

It’s the only thing that seems real, vital, until at some point Oscar’s mouth leaves yours to trail hot, openmouthed kisses down your chest and stomach and lower still.

Your back bows as you squirm incoherently against the press of his lips and tongue. His restraint seems to have finally snapped, movements growing hungry and rough as he works you steadily higher.

“Oscar,” you sob out his name like you’re breaking apart, pleading for something you can’t quite name. He answers with a rumbling sound of satisfaction that vibrates hotly against your sensitized flesh.

More, is all you can think as he redoubles his efforts.

At some point, you must have arched helplessly off the desk because suddenly his hands are at the small of your back, fingertips digging in hard as he holds you arched for his questing mouth.

The intimate angle of his positioning has your jaw dropping open on a silent scream of overwhelmed pleasure. All that escapes is a strangled gasp of, “Oscar!”

He growls something incoherent against you that might be praise, might be reassurance, might just be your name groaned out roughly in shared bliss. But you honestly can’t tell anymore — you’ve transcended far past coherent speech and rational thought.

Everything has devolved into just sensation and feeling and the endless loop of his name spilling over and over from your lips like a benediction.

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...

Just when you think you might actually shatter into pieces from the intensity he’s wringing out of you, strong hands are abruptly hauling you up and off the desk in one smooth motion.

You cling to him with heavy limbs, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he staggers the few steps to your shared bedroom. At some point his shirt has vanished, allowing your hands free rein to roam over flexing muscle and heated skin.

When the backs of his legs hit the edge of the mattress, he pauses to claim your mouth in another searing, shattering kiss. He whispers something fervent and intense against your lips, your name perhaps intertwined with endearments or promises.

You can’t be sure. All you know is the shape of his name against your tongue, the only word your mind seems capable of holding onto as he lowers you reverently to the sheets and stretches out over you.

When he finally sinks into you with a harsh groan of relief, your back bows and you let out a broken, high keen — his name once more torn from your lips in breathless ecstasy.

“There you are, that’s it love,” he growls hoarsely as he begins to move, words interspersed between drugging, thorough thrusts. “Let me hear you, let me hear my name on those pretty lips.”

So you do, shamelessly loud and incoherent now as he gradually unravels you from the inside out. His name and gasped pleas and frantic praise all blur together in a continuous stream of blissful delirium.

At some point, his own control seems to splinter apart, hips snapping hard and deep as his pace turns utterly unrestrained. Still, you chase that shattering edge, crying out for Oscar as your whole world narrows to the merciless intensity of his driving thrusts and demanding hands kneading your flesh with staking ownership.

When you finally go soaring over that dizzying peak with his name torn hoarse from your throat, he follows you over almost violently with a ragged shout. Oscar’s arms shake dangerously as he holds his weight off of you, pupils swallowing up the copper of his eyes entirely in onyx pools of spent lust.

As you slowly float back down from that searing high, limbs heavy and sated, you reach up to trace the sharp line of his cheekbone. He turns his face into your palm with a shuddering exhale as if grounding himself.

For several long breaths, all that can be heard is your shaky inhales mingling together while your racing heartbeats gradually return to normal.

Finally, Oscar presses a warm, lingering kiss to the center of your palm before shifting to stretch out beside you, his weight dipping the mattress.

You immediately curl into the reassuring heat of him, despite the sweat still cooling along your skin. One of his arms bands around your waist, holding you flush against his side while his other hand comes up to card soothingly through your hair.

Nestling your face into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, you press a gentle kiss to the hollow of his throat and whisper, “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” he murmurs back, low and slightly scratchy in the aftermath. You can hear the smile in his voice as his fingers keep carding idly through your hair.

Silence falls again, comfortable and peaceful in the aftermath of your frantic passion, both of you simply basking in the warmth of shared nearness.

Eventually though, the question you’ve been avoiding asking slips out in a hazy murmur. “What brought all … that … on, Oscar?”

He’s quiet for so long, you begin to wonder if he fell asleep. Just when you’re about to shift to look at him though, he speaks up.

“When your fans assumed I was your ex … the way they were celebrating that the two of you got back together ...” His fingers stroke almost absentmindedly through your hair as he pauses. “I dunno, something in me just .. .snapped a little. Seeing them say over and over how perfect he was for you ...”

He trails off with a low chuckle, and you can’t resist craning your neck to glance up at him curiously. When your eyes meet his, his expression is rueful.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of any other name on your lips, love. Even your own.” His fingertips trace the line of your jaw with unbearable tenderness. “All I wanted was for you to say my name like that — like it’s the only word that matters in the entire world.”

Just like that, a fresh ember of want rekindles low in your belly at the slightly awed honesty in his voice. You exhale a shaky breath, searching his stormy gaze for … what? Evidence of how crazily affected you are by such a simple revelation?

Whatever he finds reflected in your stare seems to give him pause as well because his eyes almost immediately darken with renewed hunger.

“Say it again then,” he husks, rolling until he’s leaned over you, hands planted on either side of your head. There��s no demand in the words, just low, thrumming need thrilling between you both.

So you reach up to cup his face in your palms, rubbing your thumbs over the sandpapery stubble along his strong jawline as you gaze adoringly up at him.

“Oscar ...” you breathe out his name like a sacred invocation. “My Oscar.”

His eyes slip shut and he makes a low, ragged sound of pure satisfaction on an exhale that ghosts across your lips.

“Yeah,” he rasps, bending lower until his forehead rests against yours. “That’s it, love … that’s all I ever want to hear.”

You pull him back down to you then, unable and unwilling to resist sealing the promise of those words against his lips with your own.

And as everything inevitably dissolves into heat and need and formless ecstasy once more, you lose yourself to the endless chant of his name on your lips — your entire world whittled down to just that one exalted word, over and over and over.

Because really, what other name could ever matter when Oscar Piastri is the only name you’ll ever need?

[oldwritingm]

HI POOKS!! So like this idea popped into my head so if it's alright with you could you do hc's for Ninjago where the ninja have a s/o who gets brain washed during a mission and is forced to fight their partner. (one of the ninja) To make it interesting, when the reader is brainwashed they say really hurtful things but the ninja have to keep it together because they know the reader doesn't mean it. At the end, when the reader is back to normal the ninja of that scenario tells the reader about everything(and what they said) and the reader feels guilty which leaves the ninja of that scenario telling them that it's fine and they're just happy the reader is safe. Hopefully that made sense thank you so much pookie!!❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Me when you 💖

Anyway teehee here you go!!

Ninjago - Ninjas When You Get Brainwashed

Kai

When you attacked him, he thought you were just being playful

Bad timing, considering you were on a mission, but not exactly alarming

You guys love to play fight and banter, so it took him a minute to realize that something was wrong

It was the look in your eyes that gave you away; there was no humor, no affection, nothing but rage behind those e/c irises

"You hit like a toddler! And you look like one, too, with that stupid spiky hair!"

Kai felt his heart twist at each insult

Knowing that you weren’t joking around made the words lose their hilarity

It also made him hesitant to fight you back; he didn't want to exacerbate whatever was going on here

So he just tried his best to dodge, blocking the blows he wasn't quick enough to evade

He asked you what was wrong, but only received more degrading remarks in response

Your incessant attacks with no acknowledgment for anything he said or did clued him in on the true nature of your behavior

Realizing you were brainwashed, he refocused his energy to thinking of a way to snap you out of it

Only one idea came to his mind; it was stupid, it was risky considering you were trying to kill him, but it was all he had

He stopped dodging you, letting you lunge at his throat

As you dove in, he grabbed your collar and pulled you in for a kiss

At first he felt you resisting, but he held on, and gradually you melted into his touch

When you pulled away, the hatred in your eyes had disappeared

You put your hand over your mouth, disgusted at your actions

“Kai, I’m so sorry! I think I got brainwashed—I didn’t mean any of that.”

“Don’t worry about it, my flower. Nothing I haven’t seen from you before, right? I’m just happy you’re in your right mind again.”

You smirked at his remark, leaning in to peck his cheek

He took your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles

“Come on, we’ve got a mission to finish.”

Jay

Jay shrieked when you pounced on him

He knew right away that something was wrong

You’d never do this; not to him

And the words you used… completely out of character

You and Jay were always sweet to each other, even when you were teasing

So your sudden barrage of insults and blows was much more than strange

Being a science fiction nerd, he guessed that you’d been brainwashed first try

He wasn’t serious when he thought of it at first, but he quickly realized that this was the only logical explanation

He couldn’t think of anything else that would cause you to act like this so suddenly

Mostly because he was preoccupied running from you and trying not to cry as you degraded him

He refused to lay a hand on you; no matter how brutish you were with him, he was determined not to hit back

So he just ran

Eventually you backed him into a corner

Your taunts were just getting annoying at this point—now that Jay had processed that it wasn’t really you, they just seemed redundant

You walked closer, slowly, talking all the while

"Tch, look at you... I can't believe I ever agreed to date you! Look at how pathetic you are!"

Jay’s hands balled into fists as he only got angrier

When you got within range, his body moved on its own

He clocked you on the side of the head, hard

You stumbled to the ground, and Jay gasped as he realized what he had done

“Y/n! Y/n, are you okay? Oh my stars, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“…Jay? Oof, what ha… oh. Oh no. Jay, honey, I’m the one who should be apologizing! I didn’t mean any of that! Oh, sweetheart, are you okay?”

You brought yourself up to a sitting position, cupping Jay’s face in your hands and examining it with concern

You knew that he could be sensitive, and considering what you just did… you were on the verge of panicking

He just closed his eyes, leaning into your touch with a soft smile

“I didn’t listen. I knew it wasn’t you. You’d never do that to me. I’m so glad you’re back, Y/n.”

Cole

Your relationship with Cole is fairly stable; you rarely have disputes because you're both pretty easygoing, which means you're willing to accommodate/compromise before any conflict arises

The minute you attacked him, screaming hurtful words, he knew that something was up

He tried asking what was wrong, but only got a kick to the shin in response

Luckily he’s a pretty sturdy guy, so he stood his ground, blocking your attacks while trying to speak to you

“Y/n! Just—ow—tell me what’s wrong!”

He was really trying to be patient with you, but it was a little difficult with each new soon-to-be bruise planted on his body

His waning patience combined with the knowledge that you were on a mission eventually motivated him to restrain you

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pinning your arms to your sides and lifting you off the ground

“Let me go, you… piggish brute! You unlovable barbarian! Release me!!”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

He squeezed tighter with every insult, eventually forcing the breath out of your lungs

You went quiet for a few moments, and that’s when he finally decided to put you down

You stumbled, having almost just fainted, but he caught you in his arms

With your body in his lap, Cole brushed a strand of hair away from your face

“Can you please tell me what’s going on now, my love?”

“Cole… I think I was brainwashed. I’m sorry, I… I can’t believe myself—”

“Not another word. That makes sense, actually. I’m just relieved that you weren’t mad at me or something. And I’m glad that you’re safe now, of course.”

He kissed your forehead, lifting you bridal style, making you giggle

He planted you on your feet and interlaced your fingers before nodding forward, urging you to follow him to complete your mission

Zane

You hadn't even said or done anything and Zane was able to detect that subtle difference

He didn't know what it was at first, so he prepared himself for anything as you ran at him

Judging your behavior, he quickly determined that you must've been brainwashed

The only trouble now was figuring out how to bring you back to reality

There were a hundred ways he could think of to un-brainwash someone... but which one would work?

"I don't know why I ever thought I could love you. You're a robot! You try to act human, but you'll never be like me. You'll never be enough for me."

This particular insult shook him out of his thoughts

The pain in his heart stunned him just long enough for you to pounce, pinning him to the ground

But as he fell, he reminded himself that this wasn't really you; the words that fell from your lips weren't your own

Now that pain bubbled into rage; you were being controlled, and you didn't deserve that

"Get. Out. Of. Their. Head!"

With a sudden burst of strength, Zane launched you off of him, switching your positions

Now, having you pinned, Zane glared into those hateful eyes

You entered a staring—no, glaring—contest

Gradually, as Zane squinted harder, gritted his teeth tighter, he saw your eyes soften

Eventually they fluttered shut for a moment, and when they opened again he knew you were back

His face immediately lit up, and he beamed at you

You smiled back as it all returned to your memory

"Thank you, Zane. I hope you know I didn't mean anything I said."

"Yes, yes. I'm only glad you're safe."

"Good. ...Uh, can you get off me now?"

Both blushing furiously, you scrambled to your feet

Zane awkwardly (but much to your relief) changed the subject by prompting you to return to your mission

Lloyd

You and Lloyd always talked things out when you had problems

You never took to petty insults during these talks, either

So when you came barreling at him, cursing him like an evil sorcerer, he knew something was up

At first he tried asking you what was wrong, but seeing that his words didn't register, focused instead on dodging your attacks

As he jumped around, avoiding your mechanically fast-paced blows, he noticed a strange look in your eye

It was as if a mask of hatred had been plastered on your face, and the real you was trapped behind it

Keep in mind this was a very slow realization; Lloyd had to divide his attention between dodging your hits, blocking out your words, and trying to figure out what was going on

In the time it took him to figure this out, you had worn yourself out quite a bit

Your breathing was heavy and ragged, and your form was becoming sluggish

Lloyd was losing energy too, but not quite as quickly

He decided to keep dodging until you wore yourself out

When your punches became slow and weak enough to bear, Lloyd stopped his agile movements and planted himself square in front of you

At this point, you were so tired that your punch to his chest was a mere touch, a brush of the knuckles against his green gi

"You... worthless... wannabe..."

He cupped your face, staring deep into your eyes, trying to get a glimpse of the real you inside

"Y/n."

The sound of your name stirred something in those dull, disdainful eyes

He said it again, softer now, and the mask broke

"Lloyd."

"Y/n. You're safe now. It's okay."

You slumped against him, murmuring apologies into his shoulder as he smoothed your hair

As much as he wanted to let you recover, he needed your help to finish the mission

He held out his elbow, earning a smirk from you as you placed your hand in the crook of it, allowing him to escort you forward

Nya

She was NOT having it

The very first insult you spat sent her into a rage almost rivaling yours

"Still can't believe they let a girl like you on the team. I mean, talk about a weak link!"

"Excuse me?!"

Her rage blinded her, and she fully engaged you in combat

You were both fighting with everything you had, making quite the commotion

Insults and fists flying, you'd never guess that you guys were actually dating

The thought occurred to Nya only after she had bested you, pinning you to the ground with her knee on the back of your neck

Still angry, she demanded to know why you did it

The fighting had disoriented you, shaking the effects of the brainwashing for just a second

"Nya, I... Gah! Get off me, brat!"

It was brief, but she saw you fighting to get out

Realizing at once what was going on, guilt flooded Nya's conscience

But she didn't let you go just yet

"Come on, Y/n! Fight it!"

"Stupid! Stupid stupid stupid—stupid brainwashing..!"

"Y/n? Is that you?"

"Yes. Yes, it's me. Oh, Nya, I'm so sorry..."

"I think we should both be a little sorry. I shouldn't have jumped you like that without thinking. But I'm glad you're back; you're a fighter."

You smiled at her when she offered her hand to help you up

Still holding her hand, you pulled her into a quick kiss

"We both are. Which reminds me... Shall we get back to the mission?"

Thanks for reading! And thanks to the sweet anon for this request! Take care loves <33

(divider by saradika)

[vetteltea]

Oscar Piastri and Snowball Fights [no warnings]

Day 9 of the Vetteltea Advent Calendar

Note: Juls, my dearest, darling @rose-tinted-juls, this is for you. Thank you for being such a ray of sunlight in every single day that comes past me. You are so kind with your words and in every single aspect. I am truly so lucky to have you around and I really hope I've done justice with Oscar! It's my first time writing him!

His eyes are wide, a blanket of snow settling over the Mclaren Headquarters rapidly. Nearly every employee had transformed into a child, scampering over to the window in order to watch the rapid snowfall over the rolling green scenery. 

You were no exception; the ever-growing minutes of the meeting you had been summoned to alongside Oscar were suddenly abandoned, standing at the large glass windows, a gaggle of different voices swapping. 

There was something so alluring about snow to the Australian; maybe due to the weather being almost non-existent in his home state, it had been a scintillating experience ever since moving to England. When you had mentioned it so nonchalantly, eyebrows had skidded up his face, in awe of your casual mention.

That was half of the reason the two of you had bonded oh-so-well. The two of you were old heads on young shoulders; with your recent promotion, becoming the youngest race engineer on the grid, it had only made sense that Oscar, the youngest driver, would be your partner in crime. He couldn’t have asked for a better partner, both on and off the grid. (The ‘off’ part was still pretty quiet; the two of you had been official for the better part of six months, not that anybody knew.)

The clock still remained ticking, though not even Zak Brown himself would refuse his staff at watching the first snowfall of the year. Oscar’s tanned arm nudges you gently, holding out his hand subtly; he didn’t need dating ideals suddenly sprung on him atop of the seemingly endless information which was barraged in his direction. You’re certain nobody clocks as you take Oscar’s hand, letting the Australian guide you through the corridors and down to the main Foyer, scanning your identification cards and heading out into the snow. 

It’s cold, it’s cold but so beautiful. Oscar feels his eyes widen, the snowfall drifting for as far as he could see. It lingers over the scenery, over each street, each road-

His inner thoughts are suddenly disrupted by a cold, rough snowball wedged into his back. Immediately, Oscar snaps around, the culprit- you- crouched in the snow, almost doubling over from where the snowball had caught your boyfriend off guard. His grin mirrors your own, scooping up and compacting a ball of snow into his bare hands. 

“Osc- No! I haven’t got a coat!” You protest, still giggling as his eyebrows cock, motioning to the back of his now damp shirt.

“Neither did I!” He grins, perfect aim and precision hitting you straight into the stomach with the Snowball. This time, he’s the one to laugh, though whilst crouched down, obtains a scoop of snow into his hands, keeping it cupped as he begins to quickly step towards you. 

“What are you-” you don’t have time to finish your own words, gasping as a wedge of snow is shoved down the back of your shirt, Oscar bursting into laughter as you slide around the place, determined to remove the snow from your clothing. 

“Oscar, you shit!” You squeal, finally wiping away the coldness from your skin. Your boyfriend can’t help but smirk, walking up behind you and circling your waist in comfort, his head resting on your shoulder. 

It’s nice; comforting. Your boyfriend leans, pressing a soft kiss to your jawline, Swift so nobody can see his affection. You let your body relax for a moment, simply inheriting the warmth, the comfort of his touch, completely ruined when he sticks his hand across your skin, wiping the remaining ice from his fingers and emitting a gasp from you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“ He can’t stop grinning now, pulling you tighter into his chest. Your futile attempts to push him away are stopped, eyes widening when you see a familiar figure step across from the snow-clad ground, his eyes widening in mock shock, smirking to himself. 

“Zak owes me £50.” He mumbles, patting his fellow driver on the shoulder and heading into the building, leaving both of you to stare at one another in shock.

[albatmobile]

The Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds Chapter 18

𓅪 After not hearing from Roy or Jason for five years, you suddenly find yourself taking in extra income as a babysitter for their child.

𓅪 Rated: M | TW: weed, underage drinking, slur | 4.5k includes: jayroy moments, under the influence makeup application

fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist]

Chapter 18: Call Me in the Afternoon | ao3 - wattpad

THEN

Whatever you and Damian had going on had been, well, going on for a little over a month. 

Now, he hesitated more than usual when you wanted to hang out with his brother and Roy and you really kind of fucking hated it. Damian was your best friend. Did he really think his brother would take you away from him or something?

What made that day even worse was Dick’s dramatic ass being present.

“We have a project today,” Roy said, jerking his head over at Jason who was already ascending upstairs. “You coming or what?” 

You hesitantly looked at Damian, who frowned in response, “I thought we were doing still lifes in the foyer.” 

You tried so hard not to laugh at his use of the word ‘foyer,’ but Roy’s shit-eating grin ultimately won out. Before you could stop it, you unwittingly released a giggle you would’ve normally held back had his dumbass not been there. 

Roy, noticing Dick’s ‘big brother lecture face’ forming, quickly fled in the direction Jason had gone.

“Damian’s a proper gent,” Dick came to his defense with a pout no 23-year-old should’ve been capable of. He then scooped up a very reluctant Damian into his arms, who fought his grip every step of the way. “Don’t make fun of my baby bird.”

You shook your head, holding up your pinkie. “Of course not,” you promised.

Damian relinquished himself from Dick’s jacked arms with a flustered grumble, ridding himself of invisible dust as soon as his feet hit the floor. 

“Father will be needing me,” he spoke slowly as if he was trying to send you a message. Whatever it was, you weren’t understanding. “I don’t expect to be back before you leave.” 

“Okay.” 

This had happened a few times and you’d become somewhat accustomed to it. Usually, when he and Bruce had whatever bonding Damian was talking about, you’d just wander off and bother whoever was around the manor, even if it was just Titus.

“I’ll be leaving now, then.” 

You nodded, not understanding why he was still in front of you. “Okay, sounds good,” you drawled, giving him an unsure thumbs up. 

“You’re not understanding,” he said with a tch before stepping in front of you. “I want a kiss,” he said your last name. 

“Oh,” your face flushed with warmth as soon as he took a step closer to you, “okay.” 

You glanced over his shoulder where Dick was obnoxiously fangirling, but his cool hand on the heat of your cheek drew you back to him. Mere seconds later, your lips made contact as he lightly pecked your lips with his. 

The brief chasteness of the moment lasted mere seconds before he pulled away and attempted to lead Dick away. However, this didn't stop him from shooting a barrage of questions your way. 

Uh.

“You guys a thing?” Tim startled you, seemingly stepping out of the shadows. 

“Tim,” you laughed lightly, placing a hand over your heart for the startle he’d caused. “I- I’m not quite sure.” It was the truth. Even what he’d just done had been a surprise to you. “You know how he is with feelings.” 

That earned a chuckle from Tim, “You’re right.” He motioned you to follow him, so you did. “You finally wanna see my collection?” 

Tim had teased you about his comic collection before the incident, but he’d never been around to follow through. That and Damian wouldn’t leave the two of you alone, claiming that “too much nerd talk could be lethal.” 

“Was that a joke?” you’d asked Damian.  

He cursed your last name, “I tell plenty of jokes; it’s not my fault you idiots don’t pick up on them.” 

But, alas, Damian was gone.

Tim held your hand as he showed you the bulk of his stuff and leaned over your shoulder, pressing his front into your back as he maneuvered to show you one of his favorites.

“Oh wow! I’ve never read this one before.” It was a rare Green Arrow comic. You flipped over to the back carefully, where your fingers appreciatively fanned across its glossy cover.

“Now, I can tell you all about that one, princess,” Roy’s sultry voice startled you from behind.

What was up with everyone sneaking up on you today?

“You actually like comics?”

You were confused. Roy had only ever made fun of your obsession, but he had technically brought you all those Flash comics. You blushed, realizing you’d never thought to question if they were his, even though you realized he had mentioned reading through them. 

“Nah. Not anymore, really, but I know plenty about ‘em.” Roy shot a smirk at Tim’s deadpan stare. 

If Roy had black hair, you’d swear he was just another one of the Wayne brothers with how they gave each other shit so easily. 

Tim sighed from beside you, shaking his head slightly as you slid the comic back into place on the shelf. Tim had yet to move away from you. The close contact that remained left you worried that your heart was beating loud enough for both boys in the room to hear it.

The awkward silence lingered, though you attempted to fight it with your ever-present charm.

“Cool,” you said.

You pretended to keep looking through the comics hoping either: Tim would move away or Roy would leave. Whichever made this weird situation end faster, that was for fucking sure.

“Yep,” he popped the ‘p’ on the word as he looked between you and Tim, unimpressed. 

You tilted your head at his questioning gaze before switching the topic altogether at the unexpected tension building in the room. “What are you up to?” you asked Roy to break the awkwardness.

He winked so quickly you thought you’d imagined it. “Tag along and find out.” 

You stepped out of Tim’s unintentional embrace to join Roy at his side. You motioned back to the raven-haired teen with your head. “Come on, Tim.” 

He cleared his throat and looked back at the shelves in front of him, “You go ahead. I’m supposed to meet Stephanie on a date.” 

“You guys are back on?” It’s a question obviously for Tim, but Roy’s attention is pointedly locked on you. “That’s awesome, bud.” 

You brushed off Roy’s odd behavior and wished him luck on his date before following Roy out of the room. 

Roy snorted as soon as you closed in on Jason’s room, “You and these fucking Waynes.”

“Fucks that mean, Harper?” You smacked him on the arm. “I like you just as much.”

“Well, ain’t that a relief,” he said, wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead while easily avoiding the shoulder punch you sent his way.

“Heyy,” Jason drawled lazily upon your arrival.

You hitched a questioning brow in response. “Sup,” you greeted hesitantly. 

Jason made some dumb sign with his hands as he slightly swayed back and forth. However, it wasn’t until he complimented you that you truly caught on to what was going on. Sure, that one night in the library, he’d been pretty drunk, but this? This seemed like a blackout kind of drunk. Jason’s angsty ass + blackout drunk… yeah, you didn’t think it added up to anything good.

“You look so good always, but your makeup.” He hiccupped and sloshed around whatever alcohol was in the bottle in the process. “You’re… when you do the makeup- looks really good, y’know?”

Damn, he was really far gone. 

“Project, huh?” you questioned, shooting Roy a wary look. “Just how much has he had to drink?”

With how he was acting, there was no way he hadn’t already been sloshed before coming home. You shook your head, wondering why Jason was acting out like this all of a sudden.

“You can do my makeup, y’know?” Jason slapped at your thigh from the floor to get your attention again. 

“Enough for the man to want his makeup done, I s’ppose,” Roy responded. He held in a hiccup of his own, but your narrowed eyes let him know you were on to him, too. 

How much could two teenagers possibly drink in like… twenty minutes? You know what, never mind, you didn’t want to know. 

“Your eyeliner always looks so good, babe. S’really not fair,” Jason whined. At this, he pulled you to the ground and dug through your backpack for whatever emergency makeup you had stashed away in there.

You cocked your head questioningly, but nodded anyway. “You’d look really good with eyeliner,” you admitted to the raven. 

“Oh, I know.” 

“Roy, you in?” He gave you a dubious look, but you just shrugged. “It’s only fair,” you tried. 

Finally, Roy sighed, giving in, “Yeah, fine, but I get to do yours.” 

You were already wearing mascara, but that was about it. Letting Roy anywhere near your eyes with a liquid eyeliner pen seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. There was no way the look was going to come out decent. 

Yes, decent was the standard here, so you knew you were definitely drawing the short end of the stick. Anything to keep Jason happy, though, you supposed.

“Oh god,” you pulled out your one palette, your blush, mascara, and eyebrow fixings and got to work. “This definitely isn’t sanitary,” you trailed off, drowned out by Roy’s cackles like you’d just said the funniest thing he’d ever heard or some shit. 

Jason’s eyes were slightly hooded, whereas Roy’s were larger and slightly buggy-looking. The application would have to differ on each of their eyes, you realized. 

“Will you make me beautiful?”

Your hand paused with your brush right above his cheeks as his words settled over the quiet of the room.

“You’re already beautiful, Jason.” 

There seemed to be no need for blush with how rosy his cheeks had turned, but you applied it, nevertheless. 

“Sometimes I don’t feel it,” Jason admitted quietly. 

Your heart clenched. You definitely wished you also had something to drink- anything to quell the guilt of hearing him spill his heart so freely to you. 

How could someone who looked like Jason be so… so… unsure of himself?

Whereas you felt like a loser, he knew he was a badass with enough swagger to put even Roy to shame.

There was no way he could be insecure. He looked like a literal god and his every glance your way practically sent your knees wobbling.

“Jay.” Roy shifted to sit beside him, shaking his shoulder slightly as he grabbed the bottle from his grasp. What little was left of the amber fluid crashed hollowly against its glass confines as he did so. “I think you’re good on the Woodford, buddy.”

“That’s rich, Roy,” Jason huffed. “What? A guy expresses his fucking feelings and, suddenly, I’ve had too much?” 

With this, Jason ripped the bottle from Roy’s hand and chugged a few satisfying gulps before passing the bottle off to you. He wiped haphazardly at his face while his half-lidded eyes drank in the sight of your lips touching where his had just been. 

Feeling a cottony edge to your thoughts and a familiar warmth to your face, the playing field felt even once again. 

Roy held up his hands in faux-surrender before gesturing for you to hand the bottle his way. 

Jason welcomed you back as you positioned yourself to begin his eye makeup, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you close against his chest. “Y’need to be close for this shit,” he slurred.

You snorted, “How would you know?”

“Sometimes I practice.” Jason shrugged, looking at you for a reaction and very pointedly avoiding Roy’s. “Y’hafta get close to the mer-or… the mare-er,” he huffed, looking at you to finish his slurred sentence.

“The mirror?”

Jason’s hand, seemingly out of anxiety from his admittance, jerked to rub at his eyes. The movement stopped just before he got close enough to the makeup for you to warn him. “Yeah, that shit.”

You heard Roy shift from behind you, but Jason’s grip on you was unrelenting. 

Ever-present charm, where did you go?

A joke. Yes, a joke during this delicate situation.

“So, we’re using my shit because…?”

You waited with bated breath for his response, hoping he wouldn’t misinterpret it and get defensive. To your relief, he giggled. Absolutely downright giggled. You found yourself responding in the same way. 

“Because you own shit they don’t sell at a 7/11,” Jason said as he stole the mirror to check himself over.

“Fair enough.” With that, you bit your lip and continued your work. 

You thought back to how your main supply of makeup came from stealing things from your parent’s bathroom. Your mom always stole the good shit and never stuck around long enough to use any, so who was it really hurting to take it?

Jason was making it extremely difficult to focus when his hands were running up and down your sides and along the curve of your back mindlessly. 

You realized he was probably just anxious with Roy there. You’d never heard the redhead be so quiet, but Jason’s wandering hands left you death gripping the eyeliner, incapable of any other thoughts. You could hardly subdue the urge to arch into his touch. 

Your wings on him weren’t dramatic, just enough to highlight his natural eye shape without overcrowding his hooded eyelid. You hated when you realized you were running out of steps and would soon be forced to leave Jason’s embrace. You added the highlighter and mascara before forcing yourself away from him to inspect your work.

“Done. Roy,” you turned around, still somewhat on Jason’s lap, glancing at him out of the corner of your eyes, “compliment him.”

Roy eyed your curves up and down as you remained within Jason’s grasp, nodding absentmindedly. “Yeah, looks good,” he said distractedly.

“Roy, you’re not even looking at him.” You rolled your eyes and motioned the redhead closer. 

He took a swig from the bottle, wiped his slick lips and scooted closer with a sigh, “Yup, still looks good.” However, he wasn’t able to maintain eye contact with Jason and Jason was noticing. 

You climbed off of him to straddle Roy and began work on beating his face to perfection with the little amount of shit you had. 

Jason’s look was slightly smokey, sharp and simple, but for Roy, you gave a more iridescent highlighter-driven look, emphasizing his lighter complexion and hair. Instead of the liquid black liner you’d used on Jason, you chose a brown eyeliner pencil and smudged it into the peachy highlighter you’d smeared across his freckled lids. 

Jason watched, awestruck as the look came together.

“Roy.” Roy refused to look at him and you shuffled awkwardly, feeling the tension steadily build. “Roy, you look good.”Roy cut off your movements to chug the bottle again at Jason’s admission. “Look at me. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Chill out, bro,” Roy’s voice sounded strained. 

Your hands, once again, stilled over his face. 

“What? Suddenly, you can’t bear to face me? You’ve got the same shit on your face,” Jason growled. All the while, his scarred hands jerked around loosely. 

You hadn’t realized you'd startled away from his reach until you felt the reassuring pressure of Roy's thumbs against your bare skin. You released a breath you’d been holding as he rubbed soothing circles where your shirt had ridden down, exposing the skin of your hip in the process.

You’d known Jason could get angry, but adding alcohol into the mix created an unknown edge you weren’t sure you wanted to bear witness to. 

“You’re hot, Jason. I can practically see myself blowing you in a bar restroom now, dude. Is that what you wanted to hear?” Jason grumbled and pulled out his phone to check out your handy work. The mood instantly calmed because, apparently, that was exactly what Jason had wanted to hear. You relaxed into Roy’s touch and quickly finished his face off with mascara. “God damn, I need a joint,” Roy groaned.

He went to rub at his eyes, but you smacked his forearm away in an instant. “Don’t touch your face before you’ve even seen it,” you chastised. 

Roy exhaled deeply like he was at the end of his ever-abundant patience. “I don’t hate many things, but this?” Roy gestured to Jason and the makeup on the floor. “I hated this.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled. You tried to hide your pout as you pulled out your phone’s camera to show him, but Jason had stolen it while you’d been preoccupied with Roy’s face. 

Roy quickly produced his own phone, glancing at the screen for no more than five seconds before nodding. “Let me do your shit so I can roll up, princess.”

“You don’t have to, you know." You traced your index finger from the collar of his school shirt down to the middle button and backed up again shyly.

The last thing you wanted to do was keep Roy in a shitty mood when Jason was already in one.

You looked up to see his barely hidden smirk. “Well, now I’ve gotta,” he teased.

There was nothing relaxing about Roy’s application process. 

From the eye jabbing and assault of blush on your cheeks, you knew you’d definitely drawn the short end of the stick. Jason, as drunk as he was, probably could’ve done a better job than Roy’s clown academy look, which left much to be desired. 

Jason continued to touch his face while Roy set about silently breaking down the shell and then the bud. It’s only when he lit it that Jason pulled himself away from the camera.

“Damn,” Jason breathed, crawling over to invade the rest of Roy’s personal space that you weren’t taking up. 

Roy snorted, drawing in a cloud of smoke until it protruded from his mouth like a bubble before fully exhaling right into Jason’s room. You knew Jason had to be pretty fucked up to smoke inside, but if it meant not having to go outside in the chilly weather, you were all for it. 

“Yeah, shit’s fat, right?” the redhead said with the smoke leaking from his chapped lips with each word.

“No, not that.” Jason shook his head and took Roy’s face into his hands, turning it over haphazardly to take it all in. “You said you’d blow me?”

Roy choked on his next hit, sending him into a coughing fit that left you scrambling from your spot on Roy’s lap. With the space free, Jason wasted no time in replacing you atop Roy. 

You took in the new positions from a breath away with widened eyes. 

“Jay, you’re drunk,” Roy said, batting away Jason’s wandering hands as he handed the blunt to you so he could better fend him off. “Jay, baby, sto-” Roy was cut off by Jason’s lips.

You’re pretty sure you’re the one who gasped, but you couldn’t be sure when Jason was moaning like a paid whore.

What surprised you more was how Roy took it all in stride.

It should come as no surprise that Jason was an aggressive kisser. His face looked almost pained with his drawn brows as his teeth clashed against Roy’s. 

Roy split away with a wrecked pant, shooting you a quick, hazy quirk of his reddened lips before diving right back in. This time, he met Jason’s tongue with his own, visibly flicking and prodding them against each other in the minimal space between them. The kiss was over the top, seemingly for your entertainment, as Roy slurped Jason’s tongue lewdly into his mouth. 

You sucked on the end of the joint as you watched the scene in front of you unfold.

Your stomach felt a steady tickling coolness spread upward from the hot slick in your panties as the blanketing effects of the weed kicked in. If you hadn’t been so confused by the situation, you might’ve spread your legs to show them the wet spot that was overtaking your red thong. Instead, you sat there gripping the blunt and the hem of your skirt to prevent your hands from wandering to where they were itching to go.

It wasn’t working.

Your thighs spread without your permission. Soon, your arm dragged your clenched hand closer to your pulsating heat, exposing more of your thigh in the process as it went. Their moans rang out in unison and you unwittingly bucked into your planted forearm, clenching down around nothing at the teasing contact. You watched helplessly, willing yourself to actually touch yourself until you could no longer ignore that the bottle was in prime position to spill all over Jason’s carpet. 

Damn, it sucked being the responsible one of the bunch.

You released the fabric of your skirt to grab the spilling whiskey that dripped from Roy’s distracted hand while Jason ground down against him. Upon grabbing the bottle, Roy seemed to startle back to reality and the moment abruptly ceased. 

He pushed Jason off of him hastily with your hand retreated from its precarious position in the same manner. 

“Yoooo,” Roy breathed. Suddenly, he shook his head, running his fingers through his greasy hair repeatedly. “What the fuck, dude?”

Jason’s face dropped and you’re pretty sure Roy could see how you’d also been taken aback by his reaction. How could you not when the redhead’s previous reaction had been so…?

“Fuck you,” Jason grumbled drunkenly.

Sufficiently over the situation, Jason grabbed the blunt from your grasp as he got up to walk to the balcony, leaving Roy and you to stare after his retreating form. Of course his dramatic ass had to throw open the glass doors, leaving them to smack against the wall in his wake. The glass continued to reverberate in their frames while Jason moved to grip the balcony railing like it was going to disappear from existence. The only movement was his arm moving robotically to put the blunt to his mouth and the smoke that plumed from it.

At least you weren’t the only one in the manor getting the runaround. 

•

“Wake up, dumbass,” a low voice stirred you from your slumber. You awoke with a snort to Damian’s disgusted face standing over you. “You reek like skunk.” 

“Shut up.” You sniffed at your uniform only to wince. “Fuck, you’re right,” you bemoaned. 

“I’m always right,” he said your last name. 

You groaned as you got up from the couch, searching desperately for something, anything to help you out when it dawned on you.

You turned to Damian so quickly, not even he was expecting it. “Give me one of your extra jackets,” you demanded. 

“What?” His annoyed glare bore through you, but you weren’t giving in and you definitely weren’t going to be late.

You glared at him until he wordlessly retrieved his other clean jacket and handed it over to you. 

“Fuck off,” you hissed as you attempted to slide it on, but it was like putting Polly Pocket clothes on a Barbie. “Why are you so fucking skinny, dude?” 

“I’m muscular and lean,” he insisted with crossed arms, “not skinny.” 

“You’re a child’s large,” you pointed out, reading from the tag with slight disdain. 

“So what?!” He defensively stole the jacket back from you, wiping it off like you’d ruined it the second you’d touched it.

You stated the obvious, “This shit isn’t going to fit me.” Suddenly, you brightened up, snapping your fingers. “Cologne! Give me your cologne!” Damian rolled his eyes, but took much less persuading than last time for him to return. This time, he returned with a glass bottle of Prada. You gave it a few good spritzes before handing it back to a blushing Damian. “What?”

“Nothing, you just smell,” he shook his head, cutting himself off as he motioned you downstairs. “Nothing.”

You bumped into his shoulder, teasing, “You know, as my best friend, you’re morally obligated to tell me if I still stink like weed.”

“Definitely not marijuana,” he sounded resolute, so you dropped it.  

You were about to talk to him about the upcoming collage project when you heard him.

“Say something, Bruce. SAY IT!” Jason lowered his voice, gritting his teeth. 

You weren’t completely able to make out what he was saying, but he seemed to be barely holding out on hitting his dad right then and there.

“Master, Jason.”

You came around the banister to see Alfred placing a placating hand on Jason’s shoulder. 

You only barely stopped yourself from gasping when you saw your smokey eye was still very much present on his face. Your eyes shifted briefly to Damian, who looked extremely confused by the entire scene.

“Yeah, your son’s got fucking fag ‘tendencies,’” he spat, using air quotes around the last word. “Isn’t that what you called Dick’s relationship with Wally?” Jason shook his head like he was disgusted with him. “Like your whole polygamist-playboy shit isn’t the real uncouth situation here, Brucie?”

“Jason,” Bruce’s warning tone was losing patience by the second. “All I asked was if you did that to yourself. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong-”

“Yeah,” Jason growled, “you didn’t have to say anything for me to understand that you think there’s something wrong with me.” He scoffed, pushing past Bruce’s muscular build to exit the manor, “All because of some dumb pigment on my face? Fuck you, Bruce.” He hesitated, taking in the room with a visible tremble, “And, yeah, I like cock.”

The door slammed, announcing his rattling exit. Two for two on the manor’s doors; you had to give him kudos as you thought back to the balcony doors last night.

Bruce sighed and slumped down in one of the dining room chairs. His hand gratefully reached for Alfred’s, which had come to rest on his shoulder. 

Family, no matter what it looked like, you supposed, was a complicated balancing act you weren’t sure anyone had mastered. 

Least of all you. 

Least of all the Waynes.

•

“You reek,” is how he greeted you when you sat in your usual seat in English.

You quickly picked at your collar, then looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Who were you kidding? No one at school gave a fuck about you. Everyone milled about their pre-class business, leaving you and Jason undetected in the privacy of your usual corner.

“There’s no way," you insisted, inhaling deeply but only smelled Damian's pungent Prada. "I put on Damian’s cologne.”

You leaned in and had him sniff as well, which he did, albeit reluctantly. 

"Ew," he complained, wrinkling his nose in disgust. 

“What?” You startled backward and looked around to see if anyone else had caught the smell before turning back swiftly. “Jason, what?”

“Next time, ask for mine.”

“Oh,” you replied dumbly. Your heart rate had already risen at the thought of being caught smelling like weed and Jason’s statement did absolutely nothing to quell the rapid beating. “Sure, yeah,” you said.

Jason tapped his eraser against his opened book. “Roy’s trying to skip after lunch.” 

“You shouldn’t skip school so often,” you chastised lightly.  

He looked out the window, ceasing his tapping. “Well, guess that answers my question of if you're coming with,” he said. 

You hesitated, thinking back to his confrontation with Bruce earlier that morning. It couldn’t have been easy on him. Plus, how Roy reacted after the kiss also had to be eating him up. You knew him inviting you was his way of asking for your support when he came face-to-face with Roy after the incident yesterday.

“No, I’ll come.” 

“Cool.” 

You shook your head in disagreement. “Skipping school isn’t cool, but… Yeah, I need a break.” 

“S’long as you don’t make it a habit, I guess. Right?” he repeated what you’d said the first time you guys had skipped. 

You shot him an unimpressed glare. “Like you, you mean?” 

“Yeah,” his chuckle came out more as an exhale than anything.

Angsty-ass.

“Hopefully, this time, we won’t have to share a motorcycle seat,” you joked, shrinking back when you were instantly met with the wolfish quirk that briefly tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Seemed like you liked it last time.” He looked at you too knowingly for you to believe he didn't know what'd gone down. “Now, come on,” he picked up both of your bags, “Roy’s gonna meet us at our usual spot.”

The bell rang and you followed behind, wondering just what the fuck you were getting yourself into.

A/N: jason's pissed u smell like dami

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[writeroutoftime]

snowball fights

pairing: arthur pendragon x reader

summary: you, arthur, merlin, and the knights are walking in the courtyard when a snowball fight breaks out

a/n: please enjoy this small drabble as part of the first day of my 12 days of fics! have a fabulous day/night!! (p.s. I had so much fun writing this short story!!)

oOoOo

Walking through the snowy courtyard, you kept your pace in line with Merlin, admiring as Arthur stood ahead with the rest of the knights.

A mischievous thought crossed your mind, and with a sly smile, you bent down and began to pack a ball of snow together in your hand. Hiding the snowball behind your back, you stood and called out with a sing-song voice. "Oh, Arthur."

As expected, your husband turned around with a smile on his face, which was quickly wiped away when the cold, icy ball of snow hit him square in the chest. Merlin and the knights around Arthur hid their chuckles behind coughs as Arthur's face morphed to shock.

"Did you just throw that snowball at me?" he asked incredulously, hands on his hips.

Feigning innocence, your hand rested against your chest. "Why would I ever do that, dear husband?" you shot back.

"You've asked for it, y/n." Arthur warned, leaning down to create his own snowball, noticeably larger than the one you had thrown.

Squealing, you ran for cover behind a nearby wall, grabbing Merlin's sleeve on the way, urging him to be a part of your team. As you began to build up your own stock of snowballs, you noticed that Gwaine had joined your side as well, a contagious laugh following him.

“You might as well surrender now, my love.” you heard your husband shout from across the courtyard. “Just because you are Queen of Camelot does not mean I’m afraid to best you.”

“It’s sweet that you think you can win.” you taunted, quickly peeking out behind your defense to launch another snowball towards Arthur, this one hitting Leon on his shoulder.

With that began an all-out snowball war between Merlin, the Knights of the Round, and the King and Queen of Camelot. If any subjects were to walk through the courtyard in that moment, it would have seemed as though the nobility had finally lost their minds. It seemed that there was a non-stop supply of snowballs from both sides, as you skillfully dodged as many snowballs as possible. That’s not to say that you weren’t unlucky enough to be hit a few times, the fabric of your cloak beginning to dampen from the barrage, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Laughter filled the courtyard, and your face began to ache by how wide your smile stretched.

For a moment, it seemed as though Arthur and the other knights would be declared the winners, but you, Merlin, and Gwaine put your all into one last ditch effort to claim victory. The three of you suddenly stood up, pelting the other side with the stash of snowballs you had left, offering no mercy. Merlin’s smile pulled laughter from your own lips as you looked at Arthur’s shocked face, docking the attack as best he could, with little success. It wasn’t long before you heard his cry of surrender.

“Alright, alright – you win, y/n.” Arthur shouted, ceasing fire immediately.

Shouts of joy surrounded you as Merlin and Gwaine swarmed you in a hug before running off to rub their victory in the faces of Leon and Elyan. As they did so, you strolled out of hiding to meet your husband halfway, holding out your hand as a sign of truce. “I told you I would win, didn’t I darling?” you said, knocking shoulders with him playfully.

“That you did, my queen. How could I have ever doubted you?” you Arthur asked rolling his eyes good naturedly.

Squeezing his hand, you leaned forward to steal a kiss from Arthur. “I couldn’t begin to imagine why, but you’ll do well to remember this moment in the future, my king.” you said, pulling Arthur towards the castle where you couldn’t wait to take comfort in his arms, warming yourself in front of the fire.

[qvid-pro-qvo]

double date

Javy sighs, swirling his drink its glass before taking another sip. He has to shout to be heard over the music, even as he leans close. “Anyway, like I said. I’m done talking about it.”

“You’re not, and that’s okay,” Nat says, reaching for his hand and patting it. “This is a safe space.”

“I am!” he promises, lifting his hands after pushing his now empty glass to the side. “I am, it’s just —“

“Ah, see, here it comes —“

“— why make these kind of moves this deep into the season? We’ve got the picks to bring ourselves up again next year, just finish the season with the squad you have, don’t trade them away.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway!” Jake’s voice cuts into Javy’s ramble as he slides up beside him, depositing the drinks in his hand before kissing Javy’s cheek with a loud smack. “The Cowboys are gonna win it all!”

“Please… stop talking,” Callie sighs, slotting into her spot next to Nat and setting down the drinks she brought. She shoots her girlfriend a long-suffering look, narrowing her eyes as Nat covers her laugh with a hand. “I have heard nothing but the Cowboys’ praises for about fifteen minutes and I’m ready to stab my own eardrums.”

“I told you to mentally prepare yourself,” Natasha reminds her. “This is what he’s like when they win.”

Javy snorts, shaking his head as Jake grins at the lot of them. “And believe it or not, he’s even worse when they lose. Or when he’s sober.”

Nat shakes her head, pulling Callie closer with a tug on her waistband. “And when they choke in the playoffs and lose in the first round? How bad is he then?”

Javy lifts his eyes to the sky, unloads a sigh. “Unbearable.”

“At least we’ll make the playoffs, unlike all of you,” Jake crows. He’s rewarded with crumpled up napkins thrown at his face, a chorus of boos as he grins and ducks away from the barrage. “Hey, hey, hey! Don’t be sore losers!”

But their laughter that follows is lighthearted, and it doesn’t faze him, and he once again comes back to Javy’s side. He gets a kiss as an apology, one he lets linger until the music picks up and Javy’s eyes open and his brows lift.

“Oh, baby,” he says to his boyfriend, suddenly grinning from ear to ear. “This is my song. C’mon, guys, let’s go dance to my song.”

“We just got drinks,” Callie says in protest, gesturing to her glass.

Javy can’t help his pout. “Cal, it’s my song. If I don’t get out on that floor —“

“Pound them back!” Nat calls out, and then she’s throwing back the cocktail like a shot.

Callie’s eyes go wide as she watches her girlfriend. Blinks as she gets a bright, winning smile, blinks some more as a wink follows it. “I don’t think you’ve ever been hotter than this moment,” she admits, and Nat’s laugh pitches high as Callie moves to kiss her firmly, as Jake grins and follows her lead.

Javy glances at Callie when she moves back to catch her breath, shoots her a smirk before lifting his glass. She laughs a little and lifts her own, a brief cheers as their drinks clink together before they hit the table and down what they have.

“This is my song!” Javy calls out, grinning as he grabs Jake’s hand and drags him to the floor. Callie smiles, too, but her hand grabs Nat’s and pulls her in for another kiss.

“It’s his song, babe,” Nat reminds her, nodding to the pair on the floor. “You gonna miss his song?”

“He can wait — you’re right here.”

[mintmatcha]

addressing issues - kyotani kentarou

well! here's part two to this drabble ! special thanks to Amy (@saetyrn9) for helping me out!

tw: hurt comfort, discussion of relationship issue

The pancakes are raw in the middle. You try to pick around the batter, stabbing only the burnt bits with your fork, but it's a bit of a hopeless task. The gluey texture sticks to your tongue and the tingle of baking soda fills your mouth with each bite.

 "Don't eat that." Kyotani tosses the spatula into the sink with a sigh. The smell of burnt sugar clings to the air, even though all of the windows in the apartment are propped open. He's still in his pajama pants, loose things now splattered with batter, but he's pulled on a sweatshirt- one that he stole from your closet months ago. "I ordered food. It'll be here in 20."

You place the fork down. "Thank you for cooking." 

He slinks over, shoulders slack with defeat, and plops himself at the table. Tiredness weighs on his features; neither of you slept very well last night, but he was out of bed long before you even woke. "Don't thank me- I fucked it up." 

He expects anger. Maybe discipline. Sometimes you wonder if that’s all he’s ever known. 

Stretching across the table, your hand finds his cheek and cups it. Morning stubble prickles along your palm as you give him a little squeeze. He's frozen in your touch, neither pulling away nor leaning in, but his eyes close. 

"Thank you." you repeat, firm.

He turns to kisses your palm and his lips linger. They’re soft and waxy- he’s been using that chapstick you gave him. "Anything for you." 

You two stay like this, connected by only your touch, for a long time, much longer than justifiable. Just as the moment feels infinite, Kyotani breaks away. 

"We're avoiding it." he says. He takes your hand into his, placing two more quick kisses before setting you down. As he pulls away, you tighten your grasp and interlace your fingers with his. There's a flicker of surprise, the slight raise of his brows, but he settles into the contact, drumming his fingers along your knuckles. 

"I know." you sigh. "We…. don't have to talk about this if you don't want to. We could just… move on."

He takes a deep, stabilizing breath. "That's not healthy." 

The clock chimes. It rings through the kitchen, filling the space where your response should be. He raps in your knuckles with his finger tips, tapping patterns you can’t quite follow.

"Okay." 

"Okay." he repeats. Kentarou digs into the hoodie's pocket and reveals a crumpled ball of paper. As he unfurls it, you can catch a couple words scribbled in the margins. 

"Did you… take notes?" you ask. He flushes immediately, aggressively trying to smooth wrinkles down. He's scowling at the mess of graphite smeared across the page. The tips of his ears are scarlet, bright against his blonde. 

"I … I'm not good with all this. This makes it easier." He shoots you a quick glance. "Is...that okay?"

"I just didn't expect it." 

The sink's dripping again. It's a random droplet that collects at the faucets' rim before falling into the collection of dirty dishes below with a tiny plink. It catches your eye, the way it gathers slowly; maybe you could ask the landlord-

Ken's right. You are avoiding it.

"I don't like it when you yell." It feels good to state the obvious. The bounce of your calf shakes the table, jostling your joined hands, but it barely registers.  "It makes me feel shitty. Really shitty." 

There's still a weight of something upsetting you; it itches in the back of your throat. "And… and it scared me."

He clutches your hand tighter. There’s a slight tremble in his throat, the miniscule shake of his adam’s apple, as he swallows, but he doesn’t let anything reach his face. The firm hold of his brow is stoic, controlled, even as his body betrays him. 

"I’m sorry.” his voice is firm. He opens his mouth to say something else, but only draws in a breath. His tongue flicks over his bottom lip, running over the chapped edges slowly as he contemplates in silence. “I... I’m sorry.”

“I know. I know you are.” 

“I.. I just…”  Kyotani’s unusually frazzled as his eyes flick down to the page in front of him. If you strain, you can make out some of the scribblings, but he adjusts away from you, covering the writing. “It's dumb, but…” he traces over his writing with his finger as he reads.  “Sometimes, I feel some type-a way and… it, it comes out wrong. It’s easier for me to get angry than admit that I’m hurt. It’s not fair to you. It’s not an excuse.” he looks up at you. “I’ll work on expressing myself better.”

There’s a sincerity in his voice, a gentle truth that you want to cling on to, but that itch under your skin hasn’t gone away. The situation’s still bothering you, still begging to be addressed. As you turn over it all, the squeeze of his hand no longer feels comforting- it feels overbearing.

“Kentarou, I don’t even know what I /did/.” you try and pull away, but he’s holding too tightly. Exacerbation boils in your chest, bubbling over quicker than you can control. “One minute, we’re having a good time with your friends. The next minute you’re yelling at me and storming off! I don't understand what I even did!" 

"But-"

The waver in your voice rings through the room as you give a final tug. “I can’t live like this,  constantly hoping that I don’t push your buttons. It makes me feel like I’m living in a minefield.” Reluctantly, he releases you, hand still dangling over the ruined breakfast. His steady look has finally broken into one more recognizable, with downturned mouth and a glassy sheen to his eyes. It’s blinked away quickly with a sniff, replaced with his usual sternness, but it was there. “It can’t happen again, Kenta.”

“I understand. “ he says immediately. 

The sink drips again. It’s all you can look at, that little shine in the corner of your eye. The uncomfortable squirm building in your stomach begs you to keep watching it, to focus on it until nothing matters. You’re only brought back to the conversation when his chair squeaks across the tile as he pushes away from the table. In a few strides, he’s at the faucet, wiggling the handle with just the delicate touch of his ring finger. “I’ll fix that tomorrow.” 

Of course he will. He’s always clanking around your apartment, burying himself into a new task wordlessly. Wordlessly, without request, he strives to make your life better. 

“I don’t even know what I did.” you repeat. The blonde leans over the sink, hunching over his elbows with a sigh.

"It's a dumb reason."

"If it matters to you, it's not dumb." 

He says it without looking at you. "I don't like it when you call me maddog." he states firmly. "It hurts. Really fucking bad."

Your anger deflates, suffocated by the sudden weight of guilt. "I didn't know that." 

He shrugs. It says all he needs to. 

“I- your friends call you mad dog though." 

“I don’t like it when they do it either.”

“But you don’t yell at them.” 

"They call me mad dog because they think I'm mean. Feral." he shoves his hands into the sweatshirt's pocket and kicks at the tile. His sock, a pink polka-dotted thing he must have fished out of your drawer, skids across the tile. It doesn't match his other sock- a Kentarou staple."I don't care if that's what they think of me." 

 Kyotani gives you a half smile. "But I care how you see me."

You stand and slink over, reaching for the drawstrings on his hood. He straightens at your presence, but doesn't reach, instead just letting you fiddle with the frayed cloth. Neither of you can meet each other's gaze, instead just staring at the floor between you. It's not until now you realize that you are wearing the other pink sock. Sliding your foot in between his completes the set. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too."  The weight of him suddenly leaning against you, relaxing into you, almost knocks off your balance, but there's a comforting warmth to him.

"Still love me?" he rests his forehead against yours as he talks, his fingers are trailing over your sides and gathering up the hem of your shirt.

"Of course." you tug the strings, tightening the hood around his neck, "Still love me?"

He grips your hips and pulls you flush against him as a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. "Always will." 

His lips trail lower until they are almost aligned with yours, breath warm and sweet. You rise up ever so slightly to close the gap. The first kiss is fleeting, just a test of the waters, but the next one takes its time.The drag of his lips, the taste of mint on his breath, the hum building in his throat: it suddenly hits you how much you've missed him. As your hands slide into his hoodie, your hoodie, pocket, dragging him closer, Kentarou changes the pace and showers your face with a barrage of pecks. It's quick and needy, leaving you no time to even breathe. 

"You know-" you manage to as you dodge his mouth, arching your back away from him to catch your breath. He grunts out something adjacent to a whine and dips with you to press against your forehead."I don't think you're mean."

 "You don't? Even after all this?" As he continues tracing kisses down your face and neck, tickling you with his stubble, you laugh and squirm, but he's holding you steady. 

"I think you're a big softy."  you giggle.

"Hey now. Don't go around saying I'm soft." he nips at your neck with a warning growl, but  you can feel the curve of his smile. "It's only for you." 

[1tad0ri]

alright we know fushiguro is a really private person, so I think the same goes for his relationship. he is usually really intimate. but one day he just... snaps. he’s pent up and has been teased for days or maybe is jealous abt something so he kinda goes feral and for once doesn’t mind if they get caught.

warning: public sex, degradation

fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

feral fushiguro hmu

a supply closet—could your life get any more cliche?

apparently so because your boyfriend had finally seemed to hit his limit—whatever switch had been flipped had your head spinning because never in a million years did you think megumi would have you with your skirt shoved up your hips and your panties dangling from one foot as he pressed you up against the wall, one of your legs hooked around his waist and two of his criminally skilled fingers spreading your pussy lips bare for him to see. your clit throbbed and you wished he would just kiss you already.

“why the fuck are you panting already? i haven’t even done anything.” you hadn’t noticed his hardened gaze had shifted back to your face—indeed you were breathing heavy, the enclosed space too hot for comfort; it didn’t help that he was so close to you, a human furnace all on his own with how wholly he consumed you, even if he was just standing there.

bored of your fucked out expression, megumi set to work running his thumb up your folds, his two fingers still keeping you spread, and watching your face contort—god, you needed something more to hold onto, afraid of your legs giving out with how shaky they were getting, every teasing touch making you quiver.

it had been days since he last fucked you—busy, you two were always so damn busy. your teasing kisses that ghosted over his lips and your wandering hands whenever you got a mere spare moment to yourselves didn’t help either.

hell, you’d gotten interrupted giving him a handjob in the middle of the night when gojou had set off some commotion outside in the courtyard with yuuji and nobara (megumi hadn’t bothered to actually check what exactly they were up to nor remember any details aside from when you’d both sighed and glanced out of the window to spot them there).

interrupted—you just kept getting interrupted and held back and there was just no chance to fuck you on his soft bed with the special sheets he knew you liked.

but fine, if he couldn’t have you in comfortable privacy, then he’d just settle for this, prepping you in a closet in the hallway housing the entrance and exit to the building—a popular spot and perhaps the highest stakes one he could have chosen. (your mumbles about how “we’ll get caught, baby” didn’t matter much to him when you were the one pulling him down for kiss after kiss, stumbling into the tiny room and locking the door behind you so he could slam you against it—at some point you’d shifted to hoist yourself up against the wall where you found yourself currently.)

and then there was the whole issue with yuuji—he was so friendly with you. he would’ve thought he was your boyfriend if he didn’t know any better. he didn’t like the fact that you gave him so much of your attention, your light touches on his arm seeming unfair to megumi when you could barely get the chance to do to the same to your own boyfriend. what was so special about that idiot anyway? he was his friend, sure... but not right now when he had desperately missed your glistening cunt.

“itadori can’t fuck you like this, can he?” megumi’s thumb drew circles over your entrance, swirling your slick around and lightly pressing down on the area, so close yet so far compared to where you wanted him to be.

you swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head. “no... no, he can’t,” you gasped out, “only you— ah, fuck—” your head fell forward, forehead resting on his shoulder and you blindly panting when the tip of his thumb nudged in your hole briefly before retreating. “only you ‘gumi, baby. would never let him fuck me.”

he liked that answer very much. “that’s my pretty baby. just a slut for me, yeah?”

you nodded, biting your lip, watching his slick-coated fingers—

the sound of footsteps and talking just outside the door made you clench in apprehension, finding your hands clinging to him, seeking a sense of security. when you looked up at him, eyes wide, he pressed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss and you whimpered, knowing you had to keep quiet but he was making it so hard.

“bet you want to get caught like this, don’t you? want everyone to see what a whore you are?” megumi was talking lowly against your lips, face soft and warm against yours. you were suddenly aware of your position and lack of clothing—he was faring much better considering he was still fully dressed, and it was embarrassing the longer you thought about what sight would greet whoever shoved open the door.

megumi was pressing you further and further into the wall with his lips and all you could do was thread your fingers through his hair and let him swallow up your moans.

oh no— that voice.

megumi instantly noticed when you tensed up—you knowing what barrage of words was coming—and his lips curved into a smile against yours, your stomach doing summersualts at the fact that this was definitely not one of his sweet grins anymore. “who’s that you hear, princess? hm? your boyfriend?”

you shook your head quickly. “no, no, babe, please, you’re my-”

“are you thinking about him stuffing you full right now like the whore you are? want him to see you like this, you slut?” it didn’t matter what you said, the growl of megumi’s words and the rising cadence of yuuji’s voice just a few steps away, hidden by the flimsy wooden door, had your head swimming. curse you, yuuji, please shut up—it was almost like he was getting louder on purpose and you decided you slightly hated him that moment.

“look how fucking wet you’re getting. mmm,” megumi sucked your lips into another kiss, mumbling out a “fuck” into your mouth when he thumbed your dripping folds again, feeling the wetness slide over his fingers, “can’t wait to taste you. i’ll even let you listen to him while i eat you out. you’d like that right? i’m feeling generous today, you know? anything for you.” jealous as he was, megumi very much enjoyed your pleas and explanations about how only he mattered to you, no one else, begging him to let you cum, asking him to mark you up.

later, he knew the smug smirk he’d give itadori would be met by a quizzical look and then a cry of, “fushiguro’s smiling!” yeah, he’s smiling, you dumbass, he just fucked his girl.

[saurexhas]

Love is Blind - Part 1

So I’ve been hanging out with @studionovella​ and the team for @nightmare-castle​, and the sheer talent in their discord server is so amazing. It led me to be inspired, and while I’m typically more of a Sanscest writer, I figured that it’d be fun to try something new considering the source of my inspiration! So have some Nightmare x MC (Nightmare x Reader).

Be warned, this story handles blindness and... probably some other sensitive topics considering it’s me. So just watch the tags for any relevant triggers!

*******************************************************************************************

You didn’t think that it was possible, but somehow you had fallen for Nightmare. On the surface he was cold, cruel, and calculating, using everyone he could to advance his goals. But if you could tolerate the coldness, get past his clinical treatment of those he believed were beneath him, then there was so much more to him. Nightmare was a scholar, a brilliant mind with a vision for a world all his own. He appreciated the arts, often enjoying his downtime with a good book and a calming cup of tea. And believe it or not, there was a small part of him that genuinely cared for the skeletons under his charge. You’ve seen that side of him more than most, managing to open even his eye to what was hidden beneath the centuries of anger and hatred.

Even if negativity was still a large part of who he was, you found yourself able to accept that darkness, because it only made the small lights within him shine brighter. Just like the stars the two of you were gazing at. Though as your gaze shifted to the skeleton currently dominating your thoughts, you found that piercing cyan eye of his locked onto you instead of the sky. If there was ever any doubt in your mind that your feelings were reciprocated, one look at his gaze would sweep it all away. There was a tenderness to him, reserved only for you as he would say. It was only in these moments where the two of you were alone that he would let his imposing demeanor slide.

Getting moments to yourselves was easier said than done though. Despite the sheer size of the castle, the others always seemed to be around. They knew how Nightmare favoured you, how he treated you special and wasn’t as harsh. You were pretty sure that they’d managed to piece everything together on their own, even if none of them ever said anything for fear of angering their king. That said, some of them, namely Killer, seemed to delight in getting in the way of your fleeting moments alone. And there was always no shortage of work to be done, not when your partner was as ambitious as he was. Nightmare aimed to create an empire, and you were doing what you could to further his goals. Even if all that work and Killer’s interference left you and Nightmare fleeing to other worlds in order to have some semblance of a relationship.

Outertale was a favourite destination of yours, the beauty of the cosmos always taking your breath away. It always seemed so far removed from the chaos of the multiverse, or the chaos of the castle.The peace and quiet out here made it perfect for when both you and your partner just needed a break. You could stand out here for hours, watching the subtle shifts in the sky or mapping constellations.

But for now, you were seemingly locked in a staring contest with the lord of darkness, neither willing to look away or break the silence that had fallen. Unsure of what to do, you simply reached out with your finger and booped the tip of his nose. The look of utter surprise on his face left you giggling, only for his own rich laughter to mingle with yours.

“You dare to lay a hand on the God of Negativity, hmm?” He teased, pulling you close with his tentacles before wrapping his arms around your waist. “You are either very brave or very foolish… maybe a bit of both. How shall I deal with your crime, my little moon?”

You couldn’t help but swoon a bit at the pet name he called you, grinning up at him like a fool as you took advantage of the close proximity to snuggle close. “I could swear my love to you, would that appease the great Nightmare?”

“Perhaps,” he chuckled, the distance closing between the two of you even further as he ducked his head down to be level with your own. Nightmare opened his mouth, perhaps to say something else or to move in for the kiss you were anticipating. Before either option could happen though, the dark skeleton froze for a split second. There wasn’t even time to ask what was wrong before you found yourself hefted into his arms, the two of you dodging a volley of bright blue arrows that had speared where you’d been moments ago.

Your heart hammered in your throat, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you tried to get a grip on what was happening. Nightmare still had you cradled to his chest, dodging arrows and… was that paint? Following the paint’s trajectory, you could see your partner’s enemies had managed to crash your little date.

The Star Sanses stood on the other end of the floating chunk of rock you were on, the portal they’d used to arrive closing behind them. Blue was just coming through the portal, his gaster blaster hammer in his grip. Dream had another arrow ready to fire, though he hesitated upon seeing you staring back at him. Ink on the other hand wasted no time in splattering more of his paints everywhere, a tentacle raising to block you from the oncoming attack. The paint hissed and fizzled on contact, a growl leaving Nightmare as he jumped to another nearby rock to escape the barrage.

“Night, are you okay?!” You look up to see him trying to hide his pain, showing you that those paints are far more than something to be smeared on a piece of paper. While you’d heard stories from the others about the chaotic creator, you’d never met him in person or seen him fight. Seeing that paint flying towards you was way scarier than the guys’ stories had led you to believe.

“I’ll be fine,” Nightmare insisted as he set you down, even if you knew that attack hurt. “Look, you need to remain here where you’ll be safe. I don’t care what kind of training you’ve been partaking in with the others; I refuse to let you endanger yourself by fighting them. Ink especially is dangerous, keep away from him at all costs. If you cannot dodge his attacks, make sure to shield your face. His paint can burn like acid if he wishes, and while liquid negativity protects my body, you have no such defenses. Give me your word that you will remain safe while I deal with these pests.”

As much as you wanted to argue that you could help, even you couldn’t muster the confidence to speak against him with such a stern glare directed at you. It was clear that Nightmare wouldn’t take no for an answer on this one, so you had no choice but to nod your head meekly. “I-I’ll stay here,” you promised, glancing up to see him seemingly satisfied. Without another word, he rushed off, preventing Blue from getting any closer with his large hammer.

Watching Nightmare take on all three of the Star Sanses by himself was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, much like the first times you’d joined sparring sessions with the guys. But there wasn’t the assurance in the back of your mind that nobody would be out to kill you. While it might not be the goals of all of the Stars, there was very much mortal danger in this fight for both you and the one you loved. Staying on the sidelines like this was painful, leaving you feeling useless as Nightmare struggled to hold off the onslaught.

Were they not essentially your enemies, you’d be impressed by the coordination and teamwork the Stars possessed. All three of them were capable of both melee and ranged attacks, and wordlessly organized themselves so that one of their own was never in danger of being hit by their own attacks. Dream’s precision with his arrows allowed him to stay primarily a ranged fighter, while Blue’s blasters and Ink’s attacks were a bit too widespread to risk while one of them fought in close combat. Nightmare was the only one without a specific ranged attack, which probably explained why the others rarely got close to attack. Your lover’s tentacles gave him reach though, and the ability to hit multiple targets at once, so he was somehow able to hold his own against all three.

The battle looked to be a stalemate… until one of the Stars suddenly switched tactics. While Blue rushed in with a hammer and bones at his side, Ink actually turned his back on the fight. He seemed a little lost, like he was trying to remember something, only for his eyes to light up as he locked gazes with you. Instant panic seized you as the one skeleton that Nightmare warned you about came straight for you, manic glee plastered over his face as he quickly crossed the distance between the two of you. A glance back at the battle proved that Nightmare had seen what was going on, but Blue was keeping him from coming to your aid. So it was up to you to think fast and avoid the creator, hope bubbling in you that this might actually make things easier. If you could keep Ink busy by dodging his attacks, then Nightmare might be able to take on the remaining two with better success before coming after Ink.

With this admittedly crazy plan in your head, you began a game of cat and mouse with Ink, jumping from one place to the next. If you didn’t have a splash-happy maniac chasing you, it would’ve been cool to enjoy the low gravity of Outertale. For now though, it was all that was allowing you to escape most of the attacks directed at you. You were far from unscathed though, small splashes of paint eating away at your arms and legs. It burned, but was nothing you couldn’t deal with as you continued to dodge and weave the bulk of the attacks. So long as none of it touched your face, you would be fine.

Glancing back at the main battle going on, your hopes of Nightmare doing better against two targets instead of three were steadily being crushed. He seemed distracted, constantly looking up to watch you kite Ink around the area. Instead of focusing on the two he had to deal with, he was so worried about you and Ink that he was now losing. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was facing off against Ink and Blue, because there was little the two could do beyond superficial damage. Dream on the other hand was still very much a threat, his arrows of pure positivity being about the only thing that could seriously hurt. And you could see several piercing the ground, coated in the black negativity that Nightmare relied on for protection. It was a surefire way to see when he’d been hit, and the staggering amount of these soiled arrows made it clear that your partner wasn’t holding his own anymore. Guilt welled up in you, because you were the reason he was now losing this fight. While there wasn’t much you could honestly do to shake Ink from your trail, reason did little to quell the negativity rising inside you. All you could hope for was that your own despair could give Nightmare just a bit more power, enough to keep himself safe at least.

As time dragged on, both you and Nightmare were running out of stamina. Your legs cried for rest as you continued to run away from the creator, while your lover’s movements were growing noticeably sluggish. More arrows seemed to connect than not at this point, and he had barely any time to recover from one attack before dealing with another. The two of you were badly losing, and it was quite clear now why Nightmare rarely let anyone from the castle venture out on their own.

The Stars seemed to sense this sudden weakness in their target, Dream finally stopping his barrage to call out to the one going after you. “Ink! Stop playing around, I need your help!” Help? What help could Ink possibly be? Even his corrosive paints couldn’t breach the surface of Nightmare’s negativity, the only thing that could was Dream’s… oh… oh no.

As the realization hit you, Ink finally gave up his pursuit. “Woo! Looks like my plan actually worked… at least I think this was my plan. Whatever, let’s do this!” Laughing at some untold joke, Ink hopped away from you to return to the large rock that most of the battle had been on. At the same moment though, you felt your legs moving as the horrific reality of their plan hit you. Ink purposefully went after you to distract Nightmare, allowing the others to weaken him enough so that their special attack would hit. The creator might not be able to damage the surface, but if Dream’s arrow ripped through first, then there’d be a narrow window where Nightmare’s greatest defense would be gone. In a single spot he’d be vulnerable, which is why they needed to slow him down enough to ensure their hit would work.

You weren’t going to let that happen. Promise be damned, your soul was screaming at you to protect the one you loved, and you were going to heed its call. The ache in your legs went completely ignored, adrenaline pushing you forward with more speed than you thought you could muster. You needed to be faster though; Ink was already there, and Blue had set about corralling Nightmare to keep him still.

Only a few floating chunks of rock were between you and your beloved now, but you still weren’t fast enough. Panic rose once again as you watched Dream draw back his bowstring, the arrow glimmering faintly in the surrounding darkness. Ink stood ready beside him, the paint coating his brush a dangerous shade of red. That same paint had left such horrible burns along your limbs, and you could only imagine the damage it might do to the weakened god of negativity. With Blue running interference and drawing Nightmare’s attention, it was only a matter of time now.

As your feet touched down on the large space rock, several feet from everyone else, you knew that you were out of time. Nightmare was too absorbed in his fight to hear your warning calls, and it would only alert the two and likely cause them to reset before trying again. This attack would only work once though, because once Nightmare knew of their plan, he wouldn’t let it work a second time. That meant that you had one chance to stop them, especially when you saw that Dream was aiming towards his twin’s soul.

Courage and determination welled within your soul, driving you forward despite the risk you were running straight into. Any number of things could go seriously wrong, but… you couldn’t risk them killing him. Nightmare was the bane of the multiverse to many, but he was everything to you. Gritting your teeth, you timed your steps so that you’d only enter Dream’s field of vision after he fired, preventing them from stopping you and trying again. The second he saw you, the god of positivity’s expression changed from one of grim determination to one of shock and horror, his hand reaching out as if he could stop his attack or stop you. His hesitance once again wasn’t present in Ink, the creator wasting no time in flinging the red paint directly after the arrow.

With mere seconds to spare, your outstretched hands made contact with the cool goop that covered Nightmare’s body. All of your momentum and might went into a push, knocking the deity away from the incoming attack. Your lover turned back to look at you the second you made contact, his eye conveying the same shock and horror as Dream’s had when he saw you. All you could do was smile, knowing that you’d managed to save him no matter what danger you’d put yourself in. Nightmare reached out for you just as the arrow whizzed past, its trajectory leaving it slicing past your eyes. Pain bloomed as the minor cuts scratched the outsides of your eyes, but it was nothing compared to what came next. You’d been so concerned about the arrow that you temporarily forgot about Ink. His attack followed as per the Stars’ plan, splattering over the both of you with its acidic effect. The scratches to your eyes had left you temporarily blind, so you weren’t able to see that red paint as it splashed all over your face. The last thing you saw was instead Nightmare, reaching out to you as if to save you from this pain.

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[eirikaanemo]

Divine Protection

Venti x GN!Reader

1.3k Words

Warnings: You get hurt

It started out as a very simple and easy commission. You decided to drag Venti along anyways because he’s been whining dramatically at you recently about how little time you’ve been spending with him. He gets to spend time with you and get some money to pay off his bar tab. Sounds like a great deal, right? Right.

At the beginning he jokingly swears to keep you safe. “I swear to protect my fine companion against any foe that may await us!” He proclaims loud enough for the whole street to hear. You smile at his antics and nod. “I’m sure I’ll be perfectly safe then,” you reply. “I trust you.” His bright grin at your words warms your heart.

You’ve had somewhat of a crush on him for a while now, but have kept it quiet. He’s a good friend and you would hate to lose him because of something as silly as an unrequited crush. So for now you will simply enjoy spending time with him. It has been a while since you last spent time with just him, so you have to admit you get where his earlier whining was coming from.

The commission starts out well. But then it goes wrong, horrible wrong, very, very quickly. The two of you are surrounded by a horde of enemies. There are too many for the two of you to take on yourselves. Not to mention how some of them would have taken you some time to address on their own. You do your best to hold them off and find a way out, but the two of you don’t last long. Venti isn’t able to use his bow as effectively because they’re too close. And you can’t take care of everything by yourself.

At this point, Venti is desperately trying to find a way to get out of the situation without blowing his cover. Then he hears a cry of pain. He turns and the world seems to slow around him. One of them got luck and managed to hit you. You tumble to the ground and struggle to get up. It’s obvious that their strike to your ribs did some serious damage.

All caution lost to the wind, Venti changes forms in a brilliant flash of light. He’s not just angry, he’s furious. How dare they hurt you! How dare they even touch one under the protection of the thousand winds. The bright flash causes you to close your eyes, but you can feel the wind howling and swirling around you. You blink, clearing the black spots from your unfocused vision, and squint to see Venti.

He’s no longer in his usual green colors, and he’s no longer on the ground. High in the air there is a figure in white and gold with turquoise accents. A white hooded cape stretches out behind them, turning into wings as it flares out. It takes you a moment to recognize the figure as Venti. You’ve never seen him so angry or so powerful before. While the winds whirl and rage, you’re in the eye of the storm, untouched by the harsh gales. It’s over almost as quickly as it started. The winds still to a slow and calming breeze.

When you try to sit up a spike of pain makes you gasp before you close your eyes and lay back down on the ground. You hear Venti fall to his knees next to you and feel him place one hand gently on your chest and the other gently on your stomach. The cool, smooth feeling of anemo energy flows through you, easing your pain and healing your wounds.

Once you’re healed, his hands move. One grasps your hand and the other caresses your head. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I promised to protect you and failed to keep that promise.” You open one eye, then the other, gazing up at him from the ground. “What do you mean?” You ask him, sitting up. “I’m pretty sure I'm still alive, after all.” As you get a better look at him, you take better notice of his outfit. It seems familiar somehow, like you’ve seen it somewhere before.

Then you remember, it matches the outfit Barbatos is wearing in one of the cathedral stained glass windows. Oh. “You have some explaining to do, mister,” you tell him. But you can’t find it in you to really get upset though, he did just save your life after all. He sighs and gives you a small, lopsided smile.

“I suppose this was going to come eventually,” he admitted. “As you may have noticed, I’m Barbatos. I prefer to go by Venti though, and would rather be incognito as a bard than be known to be the anemo archon. With me around with that much authority, it would be too easy for me to make my people no longer free.

“Some call me irresponsible, lazy, and say I’m not doing my duty, but I’ve been here when Mondstadt has really needed me. My people are important to me, as is their welfare. And that is why I stay away. So I need you to promise to not give me away, okay? I trust you, but I just want to make sure.”

“I won’t give you away,” you promise. “I may not understand all of your reasons, but what I do understand makes sense. Don’t worry about me, I’ll keep it quiet.” He sighs again, this time in relief. “Thank you, that means a lot to me.” Venti confesses. Then he perks up like he got an idea and gives you a little smirk. “I should give you a thank you gift! Close your eyes!”

You’re confused, but curious enough to go along with his plan, so you close your eyes. He cups one of your cheeks with his hand and presses a soft kiss to your other cheek. It tingles a little bit once he pulls away. You can feel the heat spread across your cheeks as you open your eyes. Suddenly your lap looks very interesting.

“Awww,” he teases you. “Are you blushing? That’s adorable!” He strokes your cheek with his thumb, reminding you that he can feel how flustered you are. ”Did you like that? I can do it again if you want,” he whispers, leaning over so he can whisper in your ear. It’s almost too much for your poor heart to bear.

When you go to bury your face in your hands, he moves his hand from your cheek to your chin. “Hey, none of that,” he chides you as he tilts your head up to face him. His eyes dance with laughter as he gives you a soft smile. “I quite liked it too! Here, let me do that again-” he cuts himself off as he gives your cheek another peck.

He presses kisses all over your face, showering you with love and affection. Somewhere in the middle of his barrage of adoration he turns back into his Venti form. Eventually he pulls back for a second and stares into your eyes. “Can I kiss you?” He inquires. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing? You can keep going if you want,” you respond. He shakes his head.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says as he glances at your lips before looking back into your eyes. “I meant ‘can I kiss-kiss you?’” This time it’s your time to smile gently as you place a hand on the back of his neck. “Yes,” you murmur. “I think I would quite like that.”

When you finish the commission and get back to Mondstadt, it’s much later than you’d expected. But when Venti gently squeezes your hand that he’s holding, you’re reminded of just why that is and give him your best smile. And he smiles right back.

[letters-from-eros]

I'm glad you're back from your hiatus 😊 can I request an imagine where the female reader is secretly dating Bakugou, and one day while changing, the girls see a hickey on the reader's neck. At the same time, the guys see Bakugou's back covered in scratches. The class puts the pieces together and sets up a plan to catch them in the act. Sorry if it's too detailed or long though 🥺 your blog is awesome!

A/N: I'm glad to be back, babes! This is a really cool request and there's no such thing as an overly detailed request. I hope you enjoy it.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Fem!Reader

Form: One-Shot.

Warnings: Implied sex, harsh language (because its Bakugo we're dealing with here)

Left a Mark.

Katsuki is nothing short of a horny teenager when it came down to it. That was something you had to realize and understand. It was far from the first time he had left his mark on you, and it was safe to say it wouldn't be his last.

He was overall neutral to the idea of your relationship being secret, he was more happy to have you by his side then anything. People knowing that fact was an afterthought. But... The circumstances would become long forgotten when things would get hot and heavy between you two.

It was far from the first time you had to scold him for leaving a hickey on you, and it was safe to say it wouldn't be your last.

"Y/N!" Uraraka called out, her usual innocent tone unwavering.

"Hm?" You quickly looked at the girl who shouted your name, a small smile playing on your face. Everytime you look at her you get a reminder of Katsuki's crude nickname for her, 'Round-Face.' Crude, but certainly fitting.

"You have a hickey!" The smile quickly dropped and your cheeks warmed up like the sun was shining directly at them. It was hard to ignore the sudden feeling of so many eyes on you...

"Don't worry about it," You quickly dismissed, your eyes glued to the inside of your locker as you slipped on the rest of your gym uniform.

"I bet it was Shouto! I see the way you always look at him!" Mina teased and suddenly, the entire locker room erupted with your classmate's own assumptions on who had left the hickey on you....

"Yeah!! Get some, Baku-Bro!" Kirishima yelled out, in the locker room adjacent to the girls'. His voice echoed off the walls, only adding to the annoyance Katsuki got from him.

"Don't call me that, shitty hair!" Bakugo was quick to insult and refuse the "endearing" nickname his friend had to give before actually picking up on what he had to say.

The sudden and hard slap on his back was enough to get his attention and the overall ache it left was enough to get him to remember just what is on his back.

"Damn! The woman has a pair of claws on her! Who the lady?" Denki questioned with a borderline proud look on his face. He must be oblivious that he's truly rolling the dice with his life treating Bakugo this way.

"None of your damn business!!" Bakugo yelled, the majority of the males in the room were quick to mind their own business, but one more comment escaped someone's lips..

"Uraraka's nails have been getting kind of long, lately.."

Of course, the one and only Minoru Mineta would be stupid enough enough to make another comment while Bakugo was teeming with pure anger.

The girls and boys of 1A had exited the locker rooms practically at the same time, all choosing to selectively ignore the burning smell wafting off of Mineta and a small explosion sized hole in his uniform. They all stood in a scrambled bunch, all chatting amongst themselves. Honestly, it was no surprise that their teacher would be late to the class...

You stood beside Katsuki because its what felt natural. What neither of you knew is that you both were too embarrassed to even look at each other in the moment. Even after all the merciless teasing had ceased, the feeling of overall humility was yet so subside.

A thick wave of awkwardness surrounds you both, seemingly muting the gossiping whispers that actually centered around yourself and your hotheaded boyfriend..

"You guys won't believe it!" Mina excitedly whisper-yelled to the tightknit group of friends whom dubbed themselves the baku-squad. "Y/n had a hickey on her shoulder!"

"No way! Bakugo had scratch marks on his back right now," Denki responded, just as eager as Mina.

There was about three whole minutes of talking about who could've been the one who left the scratches and hickeys amongst the single-braincelled group of friends before the one voice of reason amongst the group spoke up.

"Guys, they left the marks of each other.." Sero finally explained, a disappointed tone hung from his words, he was truly waiting for when they would figure it out themselves but... Alas, it seemed as if he was the only one with a single problem solving cell is his body.

"Ohhhhhhh...." The three finally connected the dots before shifting their gaze to the pair standing next to each other. Did they always stand that close together, was a mutual thought between the group (and the answer was yes)

"Well are you sure its them? I had ending up betting on the hickey being from Shouto.." Mina mumbled, slightly upset. She wasn't against the idea of her two friends dating, more the fact that she lost a bet and had to treat a lot of people to food if Sero was right.

"Pretty sure," Sero exaggerated his words to create a sarcastic tone, but that only sounded like uncertainty to his friends.

"Well I actually bet on it being Y/n," Kirishima announced proudly. Through his slight bouts idiocracy at times, he knew his best friend well. "How are we gonna prove that its them, though?"

The question lead everyone to a similar solution.... Catch them in the act, of course. This group of kids were far from stealthy, but they were determined to make things work.

"Do you want to ditch these losers and head to my room?" Bakugo whispered into your ear, the warm breath paired with his low tone never failing to sense a shiver down your spine.

"Don't call our friends losers!" You whisper yelled, glancing at your closest friends who dotted across the dorm's kitchen. They were arguing over what food to eat when they studied, unknowing to the fact that yourself and Bakugo had already went over this subject together as a form of a date.

He rolled his eyes and straightened his posture from leaning down to your ear taking a half step away from you, assuming the reprimanding words overall meant a no.

"Hot chips are overrated!!" Denki yelled and you're first instinct was to glance towards your boyfriend, who was... Passionate about his hot food, to say the least.

"Fuck this!! You guys can fucking study on your own!" Katsuki already didn't want to be there, then Kaminari went and said some dumb shit.

But that wasn't the only fuel to his anger and when you get to know the hot headed boy, you can tell if what he says he's angry about is what he's angry about. Having been his partner for as long as you have, you could tell he wasn't storming away solely because Kami said he didn't like hot chips.

He was frustrated, so, so frustrated and sick of this "secret relationship."

He was thinking about his locker accident, way more than one would think he should be doing. Why couldn't he just answer the barrage of questions with a proud smirk? Were you not proud of him? Ashamed, even? Insecurity hit him like a fucking truck, and he couldn't even ask for a quick hug and words of comfort because.. Other people were around? It sounded stupid when really thought out, and he wish he did when you first asked for the relationship under wraps.

He took a sharp turn around and walked away, ignoring the pleas from the group of people who were far from academics, but you on the other hand were more concerned about Bakugo himself.

"Don't worry guys, I got him," You had mumbled to your friends before quickly scurrying away to follow him.

The plan was going good so far, since you two did separate from the group, not exactly on such negative pretenses but.. That was the goal.

"Bakugo!" You called to get no response, just him continuing forward in the direction of his dorm room.

"Bakugo, slow down!" Did he... Did he just start walking faster?

"Katsuki!" You yelled once you got to the hall his dorm was on, he finally stopped. "Tell me what's wrong."

He quickly turned to you, an unreadable emotion plastered on his face, the only thing that could be deciphered is that it certainly wasn't happy.

"Do you a-fucking-shamed of me or something?!" He yelled, his voice cracking along with your heart. It didn't take much thought to figure out he was upset about the current state of the relationship. Even though you thought you had gotten used to with his sudden yelling, you couldn't stop yourself from flinching away from the sudden harsh-sounding words.

"Katsu, of course I'm not. I'm so sorry for making you believe otherwise," You began what you meant to be a comforting speech but the blonde didn't let you continue.

"Then why the hell can't anyone know we're together, huh?! Why-" His angry yelling came to a halt when you put both hands on either side of his face. The feeling of your soft touch almoat instantly calmed him down.

"Look at me," You demanded, his red hues bore into yours, they were progressively getting softer by the second. "The only reason I asked for our relationship to be in secret is because I wanted to keep our love between us. You're my boyfriend no matter how many people know. I'll never be ashamed of you, I love you, K-"

A rushed, greedy kiss came from the slamming of Bakugo's lips onto yours, because in the end he is just a horny teenager who has a bad problem of not letting you finish your sentences.

"I told you!! I know my bro the best!" The kiss was quickly separated by both parties as Kirishima's voice pipes up, his volume never failing to surprise.

"Wh-What are you guys here for?!" Your stomach twisted with embarrassment, having been caught in the act of kissing Bakugo by your entire group of friends that stood at the end of the hallway.

"They saw the hickey and scratch marks you two left on each other and wanted to see if you both really were the ones who placed their mark on each other.." Sero mumbled out an explanation that you could barely pick up over Mina and Denki's own conversation about how much they loss betting that another person was "with" their friend.

"Well now they know.." After listening to the entertaining complains from Denki and Mina you spoke at a soft level only the boy beside you could hear, a fond smile placed gently upon your face. You don't think that letting other people in on the relation ship would be the worst thing.

"Maybe I should leave more hickeys on you, then.." A sly tone slipping out a mischievous smile.

"Katsuki!!"

[ack3rlady]

The Universe Had His Back - Chapter 5

Sunrise

Summary: The aftermath of the breathtaking encounter between reader and Levi when true feelings are revealed

Chapters: Four | Five | Six

Master List

Warnings: Fem! Reader, Angst, Fluff, Modern AU, Reference to alcohol abuse, slight swearing.

Word Count: ~ 2.5k

Inspiration: Starry Night - Suho

Tags: @sooibian, @queenofcurse, @red-n-tall ; Anyone else who'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

You accepted Levi’s offer to drive you home, a decision you would come to regret the moment the car was in motion. The journey was quiet, with you mostly looking out of the window as he drove. Your greed for more time with him that you didn’t account for how dejected you would go on to feel once the adrenaline dried out. You hadn't exactly ended things with him on amicable terms. The ride home in his company just added salt to the unhealed wounds. Levi turned his head towards you several times like he wanted to say something, but didn't.

“How’s Luna?”, your words finally cut through the silence, voice low and shaky.

“She’s fine. Isabel stayed at home with her today.”, he responded, eyes focused on the road.

Then it was quiet again. It took all the strength to bottle up the multitude of emotions building up within you that were burning to be expressed. So, you decided to focus your attention on the row of lush green trees along the sidewalk, whirring past you.

Levi quelled his desire to lay his hand on yours more than once; intertwining your fingers snugly together while you ran soothing circles on the back of his palm - something he always did while driving with you by his side.

‘Old habits die hard’, he thought. Neither of you uttered a word again till your apartment building was around the corner. You sat glued to your seat, unmoving even after he parked.

“You know that you could just come see her, right? She asks about you every day.”, Levi’s gaze was still fixed on the car parked in front of his own, his voice barely audible.

You sighed, feeling ashamed for depriving your own baby of your presence.

“I’m not ready. What if I can't keep it together in front of her? I need to get better before she sees me.” you despaired, looking down at your feet, too afraid of the effect on Luna if she saw you like this.

“I’m going to be right there with you. And how do you expect to get any better if you deny yourself the exact person who is capable of making you feel so?”, Levi turned in his seat to face you, placing a firm hand on your shoulder.

He was right. Of course, Luna was the only one who could pull you out of this abyss. Why had you been running away from her this whole time?

“C-Can I come see her after work tomorrow?”, you squeaked.

“You don’t have to ask. We’ll both be waiting for you.”, he whispered moving his hand to rest on top of yours.

You finally mustered up the courage to look towards him. He wore the same smile on his face that you had been in love with for the last eight years; the exact one that always assured you that everything was going to be okay.

.

Reader’s POV

You entered your apartment and laid the shopping bags on the counter. Taking off your shoes, you placed them neatly on the rack by the door, taking a little step towards keeping the word you gave Miche this morning. It was late in the evening; the Sun having just set. You glanced around your gloomy apartment, at the dark shadows and how even the brightest colored paints and fabrics looked somber in the dusk’s dullness. The eeriness of the space was starting to eat at you when something shiny on the kitchen platform caught your eye. It was a bottle of whiskey, its amber liquid gleaming in the residual rays of light entering through the window.

The conflict in your head began as you started walking towards it absentmindedly. Was tonight going to be the same as the other wretched ones of the last two weeks? Faces of Luna, Levi, Miche and Nanaba flashed before our eyes as you inched towards the humble kitchenette. Finally at your destination, you picked up the bottle and stared at it, putting up a hard fight against the demons in your head.

You jumped when the door to your apartment suddenly slammed open, making the bottle almost slip out of your hands.

"Sweets!", A loud voice called out to you, the light from the window reflecting off the intruder’s glasses.

It was a moniker given to you by your dear friend based on "your profession and character" as they liked to call it. But the truth was, it was a part of the 'couple name' they had created for you and Levi called 'Short and Sweet', earning them a few punches from the holder of the other half of the title.

“Hange, you almost gave me a heart attack! What are you doing barging into my apartment like this?”, you grumbled.

“Well, your door was unlocked. So, how was your run in with Shorty? Tell me everyth... What the fuck is that?”, they began with excitement, but it dissipated as soon as they switched the lights on and spotted what you held in your hands.

You looked like a thief caught in the act. Guilty.

“It-It's nothing. I wasn’t drinking it.”, you stuttered, hastily putting it away.

“You mean you hadn't started drinking it yet?”

They were probably right. That’s how your evenings usually began these days. You tried your hardest to conquer the need for a drink, only to eventually give in and ending up passed out somewhere in your apartment.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a knock. Miche and Nanaba tiptoed inside through the still unlocked door with guilty smiles, as if ready to turn on their heels in case if you decided to chase after them.

“So? How did it go with Ackermann?”, they asked eagerly in unison.

“Wait. Was my day broadcasted in the news or something? How do you already know?”, your face had a giant question mark stamped on it.

“Who do you think brought it all together?”, Hange grinned, proudly wiggling their eyebrows.

You furrowed yours, and audibly gasped seconds later when it hit you. The sequence of events played before your eyes; how each person you had seen today and led to you meeting Levi. First Miche and Nanaba, then Suki. Your jaw slacked, and you gaped at each one of them in complete disbelief at what they had just pulled off.

Miche quietly slithered to position himself closely beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders – a little too tight. Well, you were contemplating introducing their jaws to your fist, so you guessed he was just being cautious.

“Who else knew of this?”, you hissed.

“Not Shorty, if that’s what you’re asking. I cooked up the idea. But it was Erwin who played commander and assigned roles! Everything from you and Levi having the same day off work, Suki and Furlan pestering you two into going with them, Nanaba and Miche forcing you out of here, Isabel staying home with Luna so that Levi could leave, and now us being here to witness the success of our little project, it was brought together by him. In fact, Erwin is checking in on Levi as we speak!”, Hange exclaimed triumphantly.

You felt stupid after finding out that you and Levi got played by practically everyone you knew. How were they this good at keeping it under wraps?

“Why did you do this?” You asked.

“Because you are both too stupid realize how crazy you are about each other and how this estrangement is paining you. So, we just decided to nudge you in the right direction. You’re welcome, by the way!”, Nanaba grinned.

“What are you even talking about? He’s the one who willingly ended what we had.”, you despaired.

The memories of the months preceding the divorce were fresh in your mind. Levi couldn’t stand being in the same room as you for more than a few minutes at a time, constantly falling out with you over something or the other. You remembered how much it hurt when he always seemed irritated by your sheer presence.

“Rubbish! You should know by now that Shorty is a complete moron with his feelings. Don’t you remember how long he stalled asking you out on a date all those years ago? And also, how I finally had to ask you for him? This is history repeating itself, silly!”, Hange chuckled, gently flicking your forehead

“Erwin and I see him every day, Sweets. We know how much he regrets letting you go. But he’s too much of a chicken to do anything about it. We’ve been badgering him to reconnect with you for a while now. But he was terrified of making a move. The dumbass is utterly in love with you. Precisely why Erwin and I decided to take matters in our own hands.”, they stated matter of factly.

The barrage of information caught you completely off guard. But you couldn’t help but dwell on one detail in particular -

“He’s still in love with me?”

.

Levi’s POV

Levi felt restless on the drive back home, aimlessly fidgeting with his seatbelt and rapidly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He was worried about you. Well, he always was, but more so because of what happened today. He suppressed the constant urges to turn his car around and return to you because he needed to get home to Luna and relieve Isabel of her baby-sitting duties.

He parked the car in the driveway and walked through the front door, momentarily freezing upon seeing a tall blonde man seated on the couch with Luna half asleep on his lap, immediately relaxing after recognizing who it was. He was reading her a story from one of the many books you had bought while Isabel was lounging on the loveseat beside them, her face glowing under the light from her phone screen. All three turned to Levi upon hearing the jingling of his keys.

“Papa!”, the little one was refreshed by the sight. She ran to greet her father by wiggling her way off the man’s lap and on to the floor and hugged is leg.

“Hi, moon beam! Erwin, what are you doing here?”, he asked as he gave Luna a kiss and then looked up at the man.

“I’m here to check in on you. How was your meeting with uh... ahem?”, Erwin cleared his throat instead of mentioning your name in the toddler’s presence.

“Check in on me? How do you know about that? What did you do?”, Levi’s temper audibly rose with each question.

“I’m going to tuck Luna into bed, and you are going to wait right here for my return. We need to have a little chat.” he glowered at the taller blonde before he could answer, ignoring the sheepish smile slapped across his little sister’s face.

Luna was out cold the moment her head rested on the pillow given how worn out she was after horsing around with Isabel all day. Additionally, story time with Erwin already had her feeling drowsy by the time Levi had returned home. Ten minutes and a few goodnight kisses later, he was sitting at the dining table with the two adults, sipping tea that Erwin had just brewed.

“When do you plan to start telling me what is going on? I could have had dinner during the wait.”, he jibed.

“I take it that Suki and Furlan were successful in bringing you two face-to-face?”, Erwin’s tone was casual, maintaining steady eye contact with his old friend.

He proceeded to explain in great detail, how he and Hange worked with both your close friends to hatch this plan.

“Can’t you two keep your eyebrows and shitty glasses out of my fucking business?”, Levi growled.

“Since you both can’t communicate like mature adults and figure things out for yourselves, we had to step in as catalysts. Hange is at her apartment right now, making sure she’s okay.”, Erwin kept his defense short.

Levi was at a loss of words. Sometimes he felt like he wasn’t worthy of his two friends. Hange and Erwin always went out of their way for him when he was hit with a challenging situation, and all he ever did was snivel about it.

“Fine. I’ll give you both credit where you deserve it. I had been wanting to see her myself. But I didn’t know what to say. She is coming over tomorrow to see Luna. So, thanks, I guess.”

Erwin knew that this was the closest thing to an apology and appreciation that he was going to get from Levi. So, he took it with a smile.

“Awesome!”, Isabel's scream cut through the calmness.

“And you.”, his fiery gaze landed on her at the far end of the table where she strategically seated herself away from the reach of her older brother in case if he was particularly irked. “I’m going to take care of Furlan later. But you too are hiding things from me now?”,

“Hey! I was just following Erwin's orders! And how could I say no to having my favorite person all to myself for an entire day?”, she reasoned, her face resembling a cartoon cat that Luna was fond of; Puss in Boots, was it?

“So, how did it go?”, Erwin intervened before Levi could scold her further.

Levi took a minute to gather his thoughts. Images of your face flashed before his eyes, making his tense posture relax significantly.

“I - I don’t even know how to describe it. I feel like for the first time in forever, I might sleep well tonight just because I met her. She looked so beautiful.”, his lips showed signs of the smallest smile as he ran his fingers along the rim of his teacup, gazing at the dark liquid contained within.

He quickly composed himself after realizing that he had in fact just said these words out loud and they were not just in his head, but it was too late. Isabel oohed with amusement and yelped after receiving a flying spoon to the head from him.

“It was also... a stark reminder of what an absolute piece of shit I have been to throw away everything we had. She’s in so much pain.”, his softened expression clearly revealed the despair behind his words.

“As are you, Levi. You made a grave mistake. Unfortunately, you're not the only one who is paying for it. But there is no use lamenting over the past, is there? What counts is what you plan to do now. Have you decided what you will say to her when she visits?”

Levi let out a long, suffering sigh. “I regretted what I did the moment I came back to an empty home from the court that day, Erwin. Seeing her today only reaffirmed how shitty my life is without her. I need to win her back. I’m afraid she’ll reject me after what I did to her. But - But she still needs to know that I -

I’m still in love with her.”

Chapters: Four | Five | Six

[the-dimitrescu-seamstress]

I Won’t Be Long - A rather long one shot

(I have been working on this, what I call “Magda’s Worst Day”, for a while, and I only recently was inspired to finish it. Hence why I’ve been rather quiet in terms of posts. I can only torture my muse so much.

Basically, this story came about because of the “What have you done to my daughter?!” line. Alcina was in her chambers while saying that, therefore unable to see or know that Ethan was outside. So how did she know what happened to Bela, and who told her? 

My answer? Magda.

I did my best to follow the game’s timeline, but there might have been some condensing or stretching in order to make things fit. I’ve also included some brief cameos from other OCs Magda has interacted with. 

Please note, this is not an “Ethan Hate” story. Magda is simply reacting as one would in their given situation. Is this a sad story? Yes, in parts. Will you hate me for writing this? Maybe. Will you still enjoy reading it? I hope so.)

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

“You must hide. The man is a danger, and I wish for you to be safe. Do your best to keep out of all this. If he approaches you, play the helpless victim. Do not help him, but please do not hinder him either.”

“But I want you to stay safe.”

“You know that I always do, dearest. He is nothing but a man.”

“You literally just said he was a danger.” The press of Bela’s lips against Magda’s was enough the hush the smaller woman and soften her demeanor. “Kissing me in order to maintain the last word is technically cheating, you know.”

“True, but I did learn it from you,” the witch smiled. “I won’t be long.”

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

That conversation happened a little over an hour ago. Since then, Magda had quietly paced the floor of her workroom, occasionally stopping to listen for any sound outside her door. She prayed she’d hear the familiar drone of flies, but nothing came. Everything was unnervingly quiet. Magda did her best to reassure herself. She kept telling herself that the man was outnumbered three to one, that the girls would work together and remove him as a threat, that they couldn’t be killed.

The sudden barrage of nearby gunfire and shattering glass ripped away any comfort she had tried to retain. It wasn’t terribly close, but then again it wasn’t terribly far either. Worse yet, there was no celebratory laughter that accompanied the silence that soon followed. Worry gnawed at Magda’s insides, and she did the one thing that Bela had asked her not to do. She unlocked the door to her workshop, and left her hiding place.

Magda went through the halls in sock feet, wanting to make as little sound as possible. The last thing she needed was to run into the man by accident. Thankfully, the courtyard was deserted. Freezing, especially without shoes or a coat, but it was empty. Even better, the door leading to the dining room was still locked. That meant the intruder had not found a key or harassed one of the few servants who had a skeleton key to the various entryways. Magda was one of those servants. Being a seamstress, and a trusted one at that, gave her a few perks.

As much as she wanted to rush in, Magda knew better. She turned the key slowly, as the locks were heavy and made a distinct and rather loud click when undone. The door she also took time opening, just in case there was an armed madman standing on the other side. Finding none, she closed and relocked the door behind her. Best to keep him confined.

Cassandra’s laughter coming from the Main Hall signaled that she was keeping the intruder well occupied and, rather than risk an interruption, Magda turned to the much plainer door which lead to the kitchen.

Normally the kitchen was a warm place, full of the sounds and smells of cooking food for the human staff, but the rush of cold air that blew in as she entered confirmed a fear she had. Hurrying past the preparation table and ducking under the cuts of drying meat, Magda stopped short in the doorway to the connected storage room. What she saw squeezed her heart like a vice, making it difficult to breath.

Shattered glass and the remains of broken boards framed a large, collapsed pile of frozen flies. The room wavered and suddenly felt hot, despite the open windows. Maybe… maybe this wasn’t Bela, she tried to reason. It wasn’t Cassandra, as she had heard her laughter not moments ago. A small, hateful voice in her head whispered that this was Daniela, that Bela was still alive inside the castle, perhaps happily carving up the man with her sister, and what laid before her was Daniela. Magda hated to even think that, but right now she was mental begging the powers that be for that to be the truth.

Step by hesitant step, she approached the pile, acting as a windbreak when she knelt between it and the broken window. Tears began to cloud her vision as she saw pale yellow flies mixed in amongst the brown and black insects. Again, her heart wrenched inside her chest. Her skin burned and the walls of the room closed in as her anger grew and burst forth in a ragged scream of rage, sorrow, and anguish.

Why?! Why did he do this?! How did he even know?! Did he just get lucky with a stray bullet breaking a pane of glass? Why did he kill her? Why did he go after her? The cold would have been enough to stop her! She would have stopped the chase, and he could have gotten away, but he still decided to kill her! He killed her while she was hurting! He killed her while she was cold, alone, and separated from everyone. He killed Magda’s stea mică… her little star…

He didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone.

Magda’s guttural scream was echoed by a rasping, undead one crawling up from the once boarded up passageway that led to the dungeon. In her emotional state, she hadn’t put two and two together. The boards were smashed going into the storage room rather than out into the passageway. The man had come up from below, meaning he had created a potential access point for the thralls to get upstairs.

“Căcat!” she cursed, scrambling as quickly and as quietly for a container in the other room. It would take the thralls a bit of time to coordinate and stumble their way up the stairs, but they would eventually make it and Magda was not about to let those disgusting things trample all over what was left of Bela.

She would also need to tell the Countess.

Grabbing one of the large basins used to hold drained blood, as well as any discarded towels or cloth she could find, Magda carefully moved every single fly she found into the container, scouring the floor for any the wind may have blown about, but always keeping a careful eye on the dungeon passage. The last thing she needed was to be attacked by those damn thralls as she finished.

The basin was… not as heavy as she thought it would be. That knowledge made her stomach sink and made her feel that much worse. She was carrying her love’s body, and it wasn’t heavy. It needed to be. The woman was seven feet tall! It should have been heavier! These stupid, unimportant thoughts made her tears start to once again fall as she returned to the dining room. “Dammit. I’m sorry, Bela,” she mumbled as a few hot tears fell on the flies.

One twitched in response.

Magda stopped at that. She was seeing things. In her grief, her mind was clearly playing tricks on her. Bela was dead. The cold killed flies. She was dead and the tear hitting the fly only made it look like it moved.

That was when the worst feeling in all of creation latched itself onto her.

Hope.

Leaning in close, she breathed a few times on a small clump of flies, letting her warm breath roll over them. And then she waited… Her heart pounding in her chest as she watched for something. Anything.

…A leg spasmed.

It was small, almost imperceptible, but Magda took it as a sign. A possibility. A tiny one at that, but she grabbed onto it and refused to let it go. Hope was evil like that.

Covering the basin to shield the flies from the cold, she ventured back across the courtyard and towards Alcina’s chambers, locking any and all doors behind her because fuck this man and his doings. Make his shit life harder.

The Countess’ chambers were empty, which sent a chill of dread and terror down Magda’s spine. Had she fallen to the man as well or was she simply hunting him along with her daughters? Should she wait for her to appear? Right now, searching the castle was not the ideal thing to do, as she was unarmed, human, and she had no idea if the intruder would have mercy on her if she encountered him. Thankfully, her questions were answered as familiar heavy footfalls were heard coming up the stairs. Now all she had to do was explain to Alcina what she thought was possible. And hopefully not die in the the telling.

“If I can’t, I’ll do my best to bleed on you as I die, sweetness,” she told the basin of flies, trying to make a joke and do her best to smile. The latter crumbled as soon as the chamber door opened.

“Countess?” Magda’s voice was weak and shaky, full of fear, and she immediately regretted opening her mouth due to the look on Alcina’s face. It was one of surprise mixed with displeasure, which made sense as Magda should still be locked in her sewing room, not running around as she was currently doing.

“Are you not aware of our current situation, Magdalena?” Her tone was cool and reserved, as if she were waiting on Magda’s answer in order to decide the best manner of action to take.

“I am very much aware of the situation, Countess. Which was why I came here as quickly as I could.” she replied, uncovering Bela’s remains. The candelabra the taller woman had been holding streaked towards Magda’s head and the seamstress barely had time to duck.

“What have you done to my daughter?!” she roared, lunging forward and grabbing Magda by her neck. For a moment, fear and terror filled the seamstress’ mind, but she somehow managed to find her voice despite the vice-like grip upon her throat.

“It wasn’t me… the man… did this… the flies… not… not dead…” Darkness had started to creep around the edges of her vision before Alcina finally released her. Landing on the ground hurt, but the deep breath of fresh air she took afterwards was incredibly sweet.

“Explain yourself,” Alcina growled, stretching out those two words in a low and menacing fashion, one not at all suitable for a woman of her standing, but perfect for a mother seeking justice for her child.

“I heard the fight,” Magda rasped, throat still sore. “It was in… the kitchen. I found… Bela. I thought she was dead… but some flies reacted to my tears…. and warm breath. There’s a chance. That cold state they go into. She told me about it. Bela might not be dead. Only hibernating. If she can be warmed, maybe she can be saved.” Magda watched Alcina, eyes never turning away or blinking too rapidly. She didn’t want to give the woman any excuse or reason not to believe her.

The quiet between them lasted for what seemed an eternity, only to be interrupted by a low rumbling and draining of liquid coming from the next room over. They both heard it, though Alcina only gave the most subtle of glances in its direction. The pool in the Hall of Ablution had been emptied. The Countess’ iron grip was suddenly around Magda’s arm, pulling her back to her feet.

“You will take my daughter back to your workshop and you will keep her warm,” she hissed. “You will not leave her side, not even for a moment. Should I find you disobeying my instructions and wandering these halls while that impudent wretch is still in my castle, your life is forfeit. Is that understood?” Magda nodded, fear in her eyes. She picked up the basin, replacing the cover before being roughly escorted out of the chamber.

Once safely back in her workshop, Magda set about gathering her thickest fabrics; the wools, flannels, gabardines, and anything else heavy she had. She removed the blankets and comforter from her bed and did what she could to form a nest or bed for the flies. For a moment, she even considered cutting her forearm and dribbling some blood onto them, but if they weren’t moving then they weren’t feeding, and the last thing she wanted to risk was them somehow drowning in her own blood.

Magda did her best to obey the Countess’ instructions, as she was not about to risk Alcina’s wrath, not with her life on the line. However, if she did end up being wrong about Bela, maybe it would be better to join her in death. What was she thinking? Magda likely would die anyways. But, in terms of when, it would just depend on Alcina’s mood. So, the seamstress sat in silence, waiting and praying to hear the soft buzzing of fly wings as they slowly warmed up.

Instead, she heard someone faintly plinking the keys of the piano in the Opera Hall. Rather badly at that. Naturally, the all too familiar footfalls of an enraged Alcina soon followed. He must not have realized she was hunting him, Magda thought. Because what idiot would actually take the time to play the piano if they were actively trying to stay hidden? The brief retort of gunfire seemed to prove her point. Although she could only hear what was going on, Magda still had a brief chuckle as she imagined the man scrambling for his life away from Alcina.

Not that he had many places to run to. It was either to Magda’s workshop or the library, and as the noise of confrontation began to distance itself from her hiding place, she breathed a sigh of relief. The library it was then.

“How has this man managed to survive this long?” she softly asked Bela’s remains. As if in answer, gunshots rang out once more and the seamstress stood, wondering who he was fighting now. The previously reassuring knowledge that bullets couldn’t harm anyone in this house re-entered Magda’s head… but it was quickly dashed to pieces as she glanced back at Bela. Who had he gone after now? She needed to know.

For five long minutes, Magda stood at her sewing room door, with it cracked open enough to listen. But she heard nothing. No footsteps, no gunfire, no sounds of anyone.

If Alcina caught her, it would be death, a voice in her head reasoned.

So she simply would avoiding getting caught, another replied.

The distance to the library wasn’t far, and she could easily hear the Countess’ footsteps well in advance, allowing her to hide as she approached.

“I’ll be back soon, stea mică. I won’t be long,” she softly told the flies. A few seemed to twitch in response. God, she hoped that she was right in the foolish ‘not dead, only hibernating’ theory. Basin and flannel cloth in hand, Magda made her way to the library, hoping she wouldn’t need what she carried.

Her heart sank upon feeling the chilly air inside. Papers were scattered, vases lay shattered, and, near enough to be in the light cast from the glass skylight which acted as a central decorative point for the room, was another large pile of immobile flies. Magda actually needed a moment to sit and collect herself with this discovery. Little flies, whose bodies glittered in the light, matched Daniela’s hair color.

Alcina will weep, Magda thought as she did her best to keep her own tears from falling once more. Gathering up these remains took longer than Bela’s, but not because they were scattered about. No. For as messy and wild as Daniela was in life, she had collapsed in a neat little pile. It was the weight and knowledge that this was the baby of the family which made this such a long and arduous task.

“You’re not alone, Dani. I’m not letting you be alone. I’m taking you to your sister. You’ll be safe in my sewing room,” She told the flies. Could this have been the first sign of madness? After all, Magda was talking to a container full of potentially dead insects. She recalled the character of Renfield from Dracula. The man went mad in an effort to serve and worship his vampire lord. Perhaps she was becoming something along the same lines. Perhaps she was already dead; killed by the intruder, and this was her own personal hell of gathering up mounds of flies throughout the castle for the rest of eternity, all the while avoiding Alcina. If Bela’s nest was not in the workshop when she returned to it, Magda figured this terrible thought would be reality.

Thankfully, upon opening the door to her workshop, the comforter and blanket that Bela was nestled in was still where the seamstress had left it. So maybe she was not dead and this was not hell. Little miracles were all she could hope for right now.

Magda took her time making Daniela’s nest, listening for anything that would signal they were victorious and this man-thing was dead and gone. She shook her head a little as she used that term. Normally, Magda did not join in on calling men that, but this was a special case. This individual didn’t seem human. The fact that he could best two of the daughters worried her, and a dread feeling that, unless mother and daughter combined forces, Cassandra could fall as well filled Magda’s stomach like a lead weight.

The daughters were monsters, yes. By the classic definition, that’s what they were, and Magda did not deny any of it. Blood stained dresses, screams and laughter coming from the dungeon, or even the rare times when Bela’s kisses had a slight hint of copper or something raw tasting to them. They weren’t normal. Alcina was also a monster; perhaps even more of one. The height, the claws, the gray skin that she hid beneath layers of foundation. All four of them shared that same inhuman appetite for blood and flesh. But, they also had human tendencies. They laughed, they cried, they screamed in fright the odd times they were scared or taken by surprise.

Then again, humans could be monsters as well. History showed how terrible they could be. Magda was certainly no angel, and she had the odd feeling that this man wasn’t entirely a good person either. Maybe she was wrong. Magda didn’t know. All she knew was that she was trying to save the small group of friends and family she had left in this world.

Minutes ticked by and still her wing of the castle remained quiet. The longer it stayed quiet, the more she worried. If the man was dead, Alcina would have come to her workshop to see to her daughter. But if the quiet persisted? Magda didn’t want to think on that.

“Should I go out and search?” she asked her charges. Of course, no reply came. Magda thought she saw more movement from Bela’s flies, but she had no idea if they all needed to be restored to a proper temperature, like a hive mind, before they could respond. With the way Magda had layered everything, they would warm up slowly and naturally. No artificial heaters or fires were being used, as she didn’t want to risk damaging them. After watching both mounds for a few minutes, the seamstress nodded, knowing once more what she had to do.

The castle had an unusual quietness, a stillness she had never felt before. There was always at least some sort of background noise; the shuffling of servants, the daughters’ laughter, the general noise of a home being lived in. Where was everyone? Had the man killed them all? Or were Sylvia, Andre, Samuel, Bianca, and the rest hiding in the servant’s quarters, having barricaded themselves in? Vulga likely would have escaped into the walls upon hearing the first gunshot, so she was probably safe.

At least there would be some survivors of Castle Dimitrescu.

Finding Cassandra took a long time. Besides hiding from both the constantly patrolling Alcina and the seemingly trigger happy mad man, Magda had to think like the middle child, who had the tendency to spend time in the oddest of places. While Bela and Daniela could be found in seemingly normal locations in the castle, Cassandra explored. She found hidden areas that were unknown to most of the inhabitants, hard to get to, or simply dilapidated enough and impossible to access unless you could fly. Magda assumed she enjoyed being hard to find.

The seamstress had searched damn near every room, after having briefly hidden for a few heart-pounding minutes in one of the dressing room wardrobes upon hearing Alcina’s approach. Currently, she was sitting in the back hallway, taking a moment to try and mentally collect herself. Magda hated failing, and right now she was absolutely in sync with the idea that she was a failure. Cassandra, as far as she knew, had simply disappeared. Had the man shattered a window and thrown her outside? If that was the case, then the chance of finding the young woman dropped to impossible odds. The castle was surrounded by woods and cliffs with sheer drops. Maybe… if the snow and cold somehow preserved her through the winter, Cassandra would show up in the spring, like crocuses.

At that thought, Magda let slip a sharp little laugh while, at the same time, her eyes began to water. Cassandra would hate being compared to a flower. She would absolutely have hated it. And for as much as Magda wanted to continue to both laugh and cry right now, it would certainly draw unwanted attention from one of two parties currently in the castle. Possibly both.

Wiping her face with her sleeve, she allowed herself a few calming breaths before pushing herself back to her feet and continuing this fruitless search.

The slight draft blowing on Magda’s hand from beneath the door stopped her. Yes, castles were drafty, but not this one. Alcina made certain to insulate everything as best she could so her daughters could survive the winter in relative comfort. But, there was a definite bit of air movement coming from under this door.

Opening it, Magda found the Statue of Pleasure…. with an animal skull in place of the sacrifice’s head. Not even Cassandra or Daniela would be foolish enough to ruin one of their mother’s statues. So, on top of being a murderer, this man enjoyed defacing both art and private property. What the fuck was wrong with him?

The indignity aside, the windows in this room were intact, so where was the draft coming from? The only other option was the fireplace, but if the chimney was that badly cracked, why wasn’t it sealed? Crouching in front of it, the reason quickly became apparent as the entire back of the fireplace has been removed, and the hole led to a set of stairs.

“Cassandra, you little shit.”

Crawling through the passageway, Magda entered what looked to be the remains of a hidden armory, or at least a place to stash and work on things a certain daughter didn’t want her mother to learn about or her sisters to interfere with. It would have been a lovely little room had it not been for the gaping hole in the wall, letting in all the cold air. And there, near enough to the stairway, laid what was left of Alcina’s middle child.

“At least you were smart enough to fight him in a room without windows,” Magda commented as she gathered her up. Cassandra was vicious and violent when she wan’t to be, but she was also calculative and observant. Perhaps that’s why she lasted as long as she did. Had she sacrificed her sisters in order to study this man? If Magda were the girl’s mother, they would definitely be having a talk about that later.

With the last of the Dimitrescu daughters safely bundled up, Magda began to make her way back to the workshop. As it was nearly on the other side of the castle with no direct route, she took great care to move as quietly as possible. She paused repeatedly, and scanned the Main Hall, looking for signs of the the woman in white. For as large as she was, Alcina was a stalking beast. She could be incredibly quiet if she wished to be.

As she crouched in one the small balconies, Magda heard movement coming from below her on the floor of the main hall. However, it didn’t sound… right. It couldn’t have been the intruder, unless he was gravely injured. But If that were the case, Alcina wouldn’t have been far behind, and Magda didn’t hear her at all. Speaking of the Countess, it certainly wasn’t her, as the noise was far too small to be anyone remotely her size.

Chancing a look, Magda peeked over the edge, and a soft gasp of surprise, sounding so devastatingly loud in this silence, escaped her lips as she saw what was beneath her. Luana, the castle’s head servant, the personal watchdog for the Countess, laid collapsed on the marble floor, clothes stained red with blood. Where had they been all this time?! Magda had scoured entire castle… Had they been outside and only just now managed to get in? This just made her life ten times harder. Not only did she have Cassandra to carry back, but now there was the issue of Luana as well.

She could have left them where they were. She could have. After all, Magda was currently disobeying orders and Alcina was already displeased by her previous actions. She should have taken Cassandra back to her workshop and then returned. By then, perhaps Alcina would have discovered Luana herself and… done what? She was hellbent on hunting down the intruder. Would she even have stopped and tended to her servant? Magda couldn’t say. She also had no idea what would have happened if the man found them first. Would he finish the job he clearly started? In all likelihood? Yes.

Tucking Cassandra safely in an out of the way corner by the top of the stairs, Magda made her way down to her fellow servant, glancing into the Hall of the Four as she went.

The doors leading to the Temple of Worship were open.

In all her years there, Magda had rarely seen those exterior doors stand open as they were now. The Countess was strict in her orders about that portion of the castle being forbidden to everyone save herself, and now the seamstress was watching her tall figure ascend the temple stairs. An unknown fear filled Magda with dread at that sight, and she hurried towards Luana.

Rolling the head servant over onto their back, Magda gave them a quick look over. Buckshot, and a few normal bullet holes, peppered Luana’s blood soaked torso. A normal human would have been dead from such injuries and blood loss, but Luana was thankfully not fully human, rather a Lycan-cross. They usually preferred not to speak of their heritage, but Magda hoped they would be happy to have it just this once.

“Luana? Luana, dear, can you hear me?” she asked, opening their eyes to check for any sign of life. She was met with slurred, half-conscious Portuguese. “You know damn well I don’t speak that, but right now any response is a good one, so I’ll take it.” The bleeding had stopped and their breathing seemed normal from what she could tell; no gurgles, bloody froth in the mouth, or sounds of difficulty.

“…Apologies…” they said in Romanian, doing their best to sit up.

“You’re fine. I’m just happy to see someone else, aside from the Countess, alive,” she replied. Their uniform already ruined, Magda removed Luana’s jacket and began tearing off bandage strips. Or at least she started to, as a distant crash and a devastating roar from outside quickly stopped her efforts. Whatever injuries seemed to be afflicting Luana were momentarily forgotten as they did their best to stand, only to collapse almost immediately. As they attempted it a second time, Magda moved to support them. She didn’t even say a word or caution them to take it slow as the two of them made it to the open doorway.

And what they saw? There were no words.

It was huge. A great beast, vast and terrible, with an immense wingspan, lashing tail, and a toothy, gaping maw circled the top of the temple tower; sometimes flying, sometimes crawling along the stonework. It was pale white with streaks of pink flesh, slick and glossy looking as the sun hit it. Muscles bulged as if barely contained by the skin, as tendrils curled and whipped about in an independent fury. It looked both cancerous and incomplete while at the same time horrifically beautiful and awe-inspiring in some inexplicable way. And to top it off, as if in an absurd gilding of the lily, Alcina’s upper torso, looking flayed and monstrous, erupted from between the beast’s shoulder blades. Her voice was distorted, both by rage, vengeance, and sorrow, but also by this transformation. She was lost in this madness, fully given in to it.

Magda’s knees gave way, and she fell to the floor, unintentionally bring Luana down with her. The seamstress was lost. How was this even possible? How had Alcina become this gargantuan beast? Could she change back? A sudden sick feeling rolled over her as all these questions and more filled her head. She was sure Luana was thinking similar things.

All they could do was watch this battle as it unfurled. Stonework and roofing tiles fell freely as the dragon creature did its best to pursue its quarry. Gunfire was heard regularly as Alcina taunted, threatened, and cackled in her torment. The fight moved steadily upwards, with more and more of the building being destroyed until a bloodcurdling shriek was heard and something structural gave way.

Multiple somethings.

Large plumes of dust, broken window, and cracks forming in the side of the building were the indication that the dragon had fallen through all of the interior floors of the temple, landing with a massive crash.

Magda and Luana looked at each other and then back towards the temple. “How about we wait and listen for movement?” the seamstress started to offer, but the head servant was already stumbling towards the building, trying desperately not to once more fall onto their face. They didn’t get very far before collapsing, but Magda was there to lift them back up. “How about a compromise? We get to the temple door and listen before barging in?” At that, Luana nodded a little sheepishly.

If Magda had thought the castle had been quiet, the inside of the temple was a veritable tomb. She just hoped it wasn’t a literal one. At least not for Alcina. Let the man be buried under all that rubble. Unfortunately, her wish was not yet granted, as she saw the limping figure of a man leaving through the lower level door. All she needed was a gun. Why didn’t she or Luana have a pistol? One bullet through the back of his damned head, that’s all that was needed and all this terribleness would be over with.

But instead, Magda just stood there, watching him leave before her gaze turned to Alcina’s body. It was still that dragon creature, but she had just come to accept that this was the Countess. Luana was already making their way down to her, carefully using the broken rubble as a stairway. Magda reluctantly followed suit.

The beast may have remained, but the human torso that was Alcina? That was gone, crumbled to ashes. The body was also still. Seeing that, Magda sat down hard, shocked by it all. Luana at least made it to the corpse, but they soon collapsed as tears began to fall.

Theirs was an ugly crying, one that Magda had never heard from them before. It was a full body shaking, heaving from the gut sort of crying. Luana had been serving House Dimitrescu since they were a teenager, and they saw Alcina as a mother figure, so Magda could only imagine what they were going through.

Letting them grieve for a few minutes, Magda eventually stood and walked over to Luana, placing a hand on their shoulder.

It was then that the beast took a great, shuddering breath.

Instincts quickly took hold and Magda scrambled backwards, not wanting to risk being eaten, while Luana did the opposite and moved closer, overjoyed to see some sign of life coming from the creature. She expected to hear a scream or cry of pain from Luana, imagining the creature lunging forward and devouring the head servant in one or two gulps. But instead, when the seamstress looked back, she saw Luana petting its head, saying soft things to it in Portuguese as it just laid there, barely making any noise.

“You are either very brave, very trusting, or very stupid to be petting that thing,” Magda hissed, keeping her voice down low, as if raising it would trigger the beast to attack them both.

“It knows me… us. It won’t hurt us,” Luana replied calmly.

“How do you know that? How is it even still alive?! Alcina’s torso is gone! The thing should be dead!” In response to Magda’s outburst, the thing growled, slightly turning its head in her direction. “… All right, I’m clearly wrong in my assessment of life and death. But that still doesn’t explain why or how.”

“Separate functioning systems? Maybe it all… pinched shut when the torso disintegrated? Like a limb or a tree branch that’s dying? Save the main body?” Luana offered.

“I would have thought Alcina would have been the main body. Can she regenerate from this?” Magda asked. Luana simply shrugged.

“We take her back to the castle and see what happens over the next few hours or days.”

“Easier said than done,” Magda replied, gesturing to the rock they scaled down and the all too small door was the only other exit.

“If it is a simple creature, then it will respond to simple things like food. She will need to eat anyways. We lure it back with food,” Luana reasoned.

The kitchen was thusly raided and a good bit of the meat that was there removed; both cured and what was still fresh. Amazingly, despite having heard the shrieks of the thralls earlier, the kitchen was now devoid of them. Had they wandered back down into the dungeon after finding no prey? Or were they all dead? Magda could only wonder as she glanced towards that corridor, her eyes wanting to linger on the spot where she found Bela. No, she thought. No, Bela was safe in the sewing room with her sisters. Magda had made a brief detour to deposit Cassandra there, as well as retrieve a pair of shoes for herself, before joining back up with Luana in the kitchen.

Along with the meat, they also brought along two barrels from the tasting room, placed at strategic points along the route back to the castle, in case extra bribery was needed for the beast. By the time they had finished setting everything up, the Alcinadragon… for what else would you call it?… was on its feet, clumsily walking around its temporary enclosure. Naturally, after throwing down the first piece of meat, with it being consumed in a single bite, the beast’s attention snapped to the two of them as it began the effort of climbing its way up towards freedom.

Magda knew better than to run. After all, doing so would likely trigger hunting and chasing instincts. But still, once the massive forelimbs appeared and the beast pulled itself up and over the lip of the hole, she made sure to be a good distance away, keeping Luana between it and her.

While this was something she normally would never state, on pain of death, it was rather easy to lead this version of Alcina around by her stomach. So long as they had a trail of food, she was easy to please and keep relatively docile. In the end, they only needed one barrel as a treat, though it wasn’t quite that. As they passed it on the bridge, the creature must have smelled the contents, or perhaps recognized the shape…. but how that was possible, Magda had no idea, as it had no discernible eyes right now. Either way, the tooth lined maw easily engulfed the barrel and bit down, splintering the wood and draining the contents quickly. Afterwards, the creature seemed more agreeable.

Maybe it had just needed a drink.

By the time they had entered the Hall of The Four, the remaining castle staff had emerged from their hiding places. There were no reprimands or excuses given, only looks and sighs of relief. Bianca, Sylvia, and Mihaela quickly flocked to the form of the Countess who was currently gorging on wine and meat. Samuel latched themself onto Magda with a tight hug; one that she was not exactly ready to receive, but she was also not about to deny them this comfort. Vulga also soon joined in, likely in an effort to make Magda feel even more uncomfortable.

“If you two insist on being this close to me, I will be putting you to work,” Magda told them both before taking them to her workshop and retrieving the three sisters. Sam took Daniela, Vulga carried Cassandra, and Magda held Bela close. The urge to place the daughters next to their mother was great, but caution won out instead. Who knew if or how the Alcinadragon would react to seeing her children as nothing more than collections of flies? Yes, they were becoming more active, but there was no indication they were on their way to reforming back into their human shapes. They just need time, Magda thought. That’s all. They’ve been through trauma, and they just need time to recover.

Even though it was not yet midday, It was decided that everyone would spend the night in the Main Hall. It was the inner most room, central to most of the castle, and it was big enough to house all of them comfortably, even a dragon with a massive wingspan. There would be safety in numbers.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Magda asked Luana quietly.

“No. As far as he is concerned, everyone here is dead. Whether that is true or not…” They paused, not wanting to say the unthinkable. Understanding, Magda nodded and finished their sentence.

“…It’s best to keep up that appearance.”

“Precisely. We keep everyone centralized for the time being. Close off and safeguard the exit points, stay quiet, and wait. With any luck, things will be different twenty-four from now. Or at least there will be an indication of a difference.” The look the two of them shared was one of tiredness and threadbare hope. There wasn’t much left to run on, but so long as the lady of the house still drew breath, no matter what form she took, they still had their duties to attend to.

“Even if the man isn’t coming back, no one is going down to the outer gatehouse and drawbridge by themselves. One of the lords is currently weakened, you are still recovering from being shot multiple times, and while my mind may be playing into the medieval hierarchy of things, I wouldn’t put it past other things going wrong and our current situation being taken advantage of. We’ll go together. It’ll be faster that way.”

Despite initial outward appearances, the castle was rather impenetrable once locked down. A drawbridge, three heavy doors of varying designs dividing the exterior gatehouse, a massive portcullis at the Carriage Gate, and a smaller, but just as fortified, portcullis on the interior of the entrance hall that kept the front doors closed from the outside. For all intents and purposes, they would be safe and secure.

More of the staff wanted to assist in the closing of the gatehouse, but they were dissuaded by a few other duties; securing the door leading to the temple, keeping an eye on Alcina, and gathering up any supplies they would need for the night. They were also greeted by another unexpected task upon opening the castle doors.

In the middle of the Carriage Gate rested four crates; three of a similar size and one that was noticeably larger. Nothing had been ordered, and the Duke had packed up his caravan, vacating his usual spot some time during the battle with Alcina. Yet the note tacked onto the larger crate was in his elaborate, flowing script:

I’d wager these treasures are of more use to you than I. Think of this as a thank you for your years of patronage, as well as a farewell gift for the time being. Keep them safe.

Bonne chance,

The Duke

The lids came off easily, and inside, nestled amongst packing material were… statues? Odd ones at that. Beautiful, crystalline, and perhaps a bit macabre, they were three busts and one massive torso with what seemed to be very familiar proportions. Either the Duke had a sick sense of humor or this was something else.

“Take these inside,” Magda instructed, still a bit confused as to what they were. “Be careful with them. Don’t damage them.” She then hurried to catch up with Luana who had decidedly not stopped to investigate the crates.

While neither of them ventured out into the village, the lack of the noisy day to day life that would normally filter up from it was obvious and more than a bit unnerving. Yes, there were the occasional barks and growls from whatever lycans were still prowling around the buildings, but there were no sounds of people. That lack of background noise twisted Magda’s stomach and made her raise the drawbridge that much faster.

“Tomorrow… Tomorrow, we will search the village. Look for survivors,” Luana reassured her.

“I don’t think there are any other survivors,” she replied morosely, as her thoughts immediately went to the one person outside the castle that Magda actually cared about. Stay safe, Donna. Please God, keep her safe.

With each barricade put into place, Magda felt both safer and more alone… cut off from everything. But this was what needed to be done. As the final portcullis fell into place in the entrance hall, a burden lifted from her shoulders. There was still that sick feeling in her stomach, but her back felt lighter.

Why? She didn’t know. She didn’t deserve to feel better.

Everything was starting to blur together, and she didn’t care anymore. Magda remembered entering the Main Hall and seeing the Alcinadragon curled protectively around the crystalline torso that shared the measurements of the Countess, growling at anyone who came near it. She didn’t care or wonder why. Someone called out her name as she climbed the stairs, but she ignored it, legs carrying her faster and faster as she went. She didn’t want to talk. Her head, neck, and chest felt hot. She felt smothered and unable to breathe. She needed to get away.

By the time she was in the Hall of Joy, Magda was running. The library was a blur, as was the opera hall. Her eyes were open, but they saw nothing, as if her brain was on automatic. All she cared about was getting away.

She slammed the door to her workroom shut, turning the lock as well in order to keep herself physically, mentally, and emotionally away from everyone. She managed to go a few steps into the room before her knees gave way and she collapsed into a heap. That’s when the floodgates of emotion just opened up. She screamed and wailed, tears falling uncontrollably. All the pain and the burdens accumulated from this day, from these past few hours, came roaring out.

She had no idea how long she cried, nor how many in the castle heard her. She didn’t know if anyone knocked on the door to check on her, nor did she care. She would have ignored it anyway. At one point early on in her anguish, her stomach heaved. Only bile came out, as she had eaten nothing this entire day, but the wretching continued until even that was entirely discarded from her system. She cried until her tears ran dry; until only hiccuping breathes and weary, burning eyes remained.

Throughout all of this, there was one constant in Magda’s mind. She knew that if anyone, and she did mean anyone, interrupted her in this moment, there would be hell to pay. The staff had seen her mad and frustrated before, but they had never seen her rage. If anyone tried to comfort or hold her right now, they would be met with punches, thrown objects, and a slew of filthy, hate-filled words that she would likely regret at a later date. Perhaps even shears to the intruder’s throat, if she could reach them in time.

She didn’t want comfort. She wanted this pain. She wanted to hurt.

But most of all, she wanted her Bela.

Eventually though, the pain did subside. It slowly dulled and dissipated. To say it was completely gone would have been a lie, but it had settled for the time being. Magda’s body ached, as did her head. The floor beside her was a mess, but she made an effort and took the time to clean up the bile. She couldn’t stand having such a thing lingering in her workshop, no matter her mood or the circumstances. The process also helped the seamstress return to a semblance of herself.

After a change of clothes, a quick washing of her face and brushing of her teeth, Magda made her way back to the main hall. Samuel was lingering in the hallway, shuffling around a bit in an effort to entertain themself while probably waiting for Magda to re-emerge.

“Hey, Magda? Are… are you okay? Do you need anything? A hug maybe?” they asked, holding their arms open. Magda just shook her head and continued on. “Ice cream, maybe? We could sit and watch a movie together Not a scary movie or anythin’, but I’ll sit and watch something you’d like if it makes you feel better.” At that, Magda just sighed.

“Sam? Right now, what I want? I can’t have. So, please? Just let me go sit in peace next to what is left of the woman I love. All right?”

“Yeah, um…. about that? Okay, so we brought the statue things in like you said, but as soon as we did, the dragon thing that Lady D turned into? Yeah, she got real defensive and grabbed the big statue and isn’t giving it up. So, we then took the smaller ones and the fly piles got really active. Like super, super active. I mean, they’re not buzzin’ around like normal or human, but-“ Magda didn’t even wait for Sam to finish. Once more, she was off and running.

The daughters were on the opposite side of the fireplace from the Alcinadragon, though pretty much everyone was on the opposite side from her, as she took up an entire length of the hall. Samuel had actually been right, as the flies were more active since the last time she saw them. While not swarming, they were crawling over the statues, or rather, individual statues. Now that she was able to look at them properly, Magda could discern the shapes of the daughters in the torsos. Bela’s she knew well enough, and Daniela was a bit slighter than Cassandra… and all the while the appropriate flies were crawling over the appropriate statues. She still had no idea what they were for, but clearly they held some importance.

Whether it had been intentional or not, someone had set Bela in the alcove under the stairs, allowing a bit of privacy and seclusion if it was needed. Obviously, Samuel or someone else had taken Magda’s breakdown into consideration. Normally, the seamstress did not enjoy having special things done for her, but at the moment, she was not about complain.

Sitting on a blanket with her back against the wall, Magda actually managed to take a breath and relax for the first time that day.

They were alive.

Whether due to the added heat, time to recover, or whatever these odd statues were, the daughters were alive and moving around. They would be all right. The Alcinadragon had a forelimb curled around her own statue, surrounded by her favorite maidens, and was practically asleep, if her breathing was any indication. She would be all right. None of the servants had been gravely injured in the long term. The current state of the castle was an odd miracle, but it was a miracle nonetheless.

Looking at the crystalline statue beside her, Magda gently placed her fingertips upon it, in hopes that it would pulse or feel abnormally warm. That wasn’t the case, but one of the pale yellow flies that had been idly traversing the torso’s clavicle almost immediately changed direction and climbed onto her hand. Smiling, either from happiness or exhaustion, she brought the insect closer as it proceeded to march into the palm of her cupped hand. It happily buzzed and bumped its head against her skin, settling down in the warmth as Magda gently stroked it.

As if energized by her touch, the fly took to the air and landed in the hollow of the seamstress’ neck, where it buzzed and bounced around more; its little wings tickling her just enough to elicit a soft laugh from Magda.

“Hi, stea mică…” she said softly, body instinctively relaxing to that sensation. Magda wasn’t sure if it was her exhaustion or something else, but as her eyes closed and sleep began to take her, she could have sworn she heard Bela’s voice in the drone of the fly.

I won’t be long.

EPILOGUE:

“Magda? Magda, wake up. Somethin’s happening,” Sam’s voice cut through the blackness of sleep. The seamstress groggily rubbed her eyes and looked around, remembering where she was. Instinctively, she looked over at the Bela statue, worried for a moment at that she would find. The concern was unfounded as it was mostly covered by a swarm of flies, more than what she had seen prior to falling asleep.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked, standing up. The Alcinadragon was still asleep, her harem of maidens still tending to her. If it was possible, she too looked healthier.

“There’s something goin’ on in the village. Luana told me to get you. They’re in Lady D’s bedroom.” That made sense. The Countess’ chambers had a view that overlooked the village. It was a smart place to scout from.

Making her way there, Magda discovered that night had fallen, meaning she had slept most of the day away. Why hadn’t they woken her up sooner? She didn’t need to have her sleep schedule even more messed up. However, the not so far off explosions made her decide otherwise, as she quickened her steps up the stairs.

Luana was out on the balcony of Alcina’s chambers, watching a veritable firefight going on in the village. Massive waving tendrils were erupting from the ground, knocking what looked like military helicopters out of the sky as explosions and gunfire rocked what was left of the buildings.

“Have they come towards the castle?” Magda asked after taking it all in.

“No,” Luana replied.

“Then unless they come towards the castle, it’s not our fight. I’m not about to start something with a group that has guns, explosions, and…” An airstrike briefly interrupted the seamstress as she talked. “Whatever the hell that is!”

“I simply thought you would like to be made aware of this. It was wise that we closed up everything when we did.” Magda didn’t know why Luana was making her seem more important than she actually was. They were the head servant. She was just the seamstress.

“…… You’re going to sit out here until it’s over, aren’t you?”

“Of course.” At that, Magda sighed.

“I’m not staying out here all night. It’s too cold. I’d suggest that you come in from the cold as well, but you’re just as stubborn as I am. I’ll be inside on the chaise lounge if you need me. Please don’t freeze out here, Luana. I’m not about to lose you after keeping you alive.” With that said, Magda went back inside and made herself comfortable on the Countess’ furniture, something she’d never do normally, but this wasn’t exactly normal circumstances. Come to think of it, the large hole in the floor was also out of the ordinary. That hadn’t been there earlier today… What had happened here after she left with Bela?

She must have fallen asleep, since the next thing she knew, Magda was woken up by the sudden slamming of a door, followed almost immediately by being rocked off the chaise lounge by an earth shattering explosion. Broken glass rained down on her as the shockwave smashed the windows. For a brief moment, she thought a nuclear device had gone off and she waited for the incineration wave to burn her to a crisp. When none of that happened, and the castle remained standing, she looked around.

Luana was crouched against the door leading to the balcony, covering their head out of instinct. Brushing the glass from her hair, Magda cautiously stood up and looked out the window. Smoke filled the air, but as the wind carried it away, she could see a decently sized crater in what had been the ceremony site. There was nothing left of the tendrils from last night, just like there wasn’t much left of the village.

“What in the hell happened?” she mumbled. “Do you even now think there are survivors?” she asked Luana. In response, they simply pointed to the distant shape of a quickly retreating helicopter. For a moment, anger blossomed in Magda’s chest. If that man was on that thing? How dare he be able to escape so easily after causing all this destruction. But the feeling and hatred vanished along with the helicopter. If he was gone, then so much the better. Better for him to be gone and forgotten than to remain a problem for them all.

“Goodbye and good riddance, stupid man-thing,” Magda said, before turning her back on the sunrise and returning, with Luana, to her family.

[alygatorwrites]

hi! i just came across your blog and i love your work!! if requests are open, i was wondering if you could write a porco oneshot where his warrior s/o gets injured on the field? make it super angsty if you can pls i’m a sucker for some angst 👉🏻👈🏻

thank you so much, love 💞 and i sure can!!

porco x reader

warning: angst, some gore

The second the sixth fragmentation shell from the Anti-Titan artillery gun hits you �� impaling you through the stomach, through your legs, inches away from your face — you feel your titan’s knees buckle from the sheer amount of impact. With a heavy crash and a thunderous rumble of the ground, you collapse, kicking up dust and rubble into the air.

It’s not long before a harsh rush of steam sends your body slowly rising from the nape, blistering and scalding. You can taste blood pouring from your nose, metallic and revolting; it’s as if you’ve swallowed a mouthful of metal.

The iron clang of the armored train fills your ears as it loops back around on its tracks, but you can’t move. The world is dark.

It takes a moment before you realize that it’s not in fact dark; your eyes are just closed. Squinting them open with every last ounce of energy you can muster, you see the artillery gun focused on you, ready to deliver it’s final blow.

What a shitty death, you think. If only you could have fought longer. If only you’d been a little faster or —

There’s the flash of an object from your peripheral and you hear the ear-piercing sound of ripping metal.

You see it then; the Jaw Titan tears apart the train, crunching the steel in his large jaws and pulverizing enemy soldiers with armored fingers. People are screaming and bodies are falling from the walls, barreling into the ground until they are nothing but splatters of red.

Porco is the exact same as the first day you met him: unfaltering, daring, and smug. He’s self-sacrificing, wild, and remarkably brave in battle, told by the way he’s protecting you with his life. 

The Earth suddenly shakes beside you, and you spot Porco emerging from the limp body of The Jaw. He’s sprinting now, crawling onto your titan to loop his arms around your waist and heave you backwards. 

You’re torn away from the flesh of your Titan, the muscle harshly ripping off your face, sudden and all at once. There’s a barrage of agonizing, heart-stirring pain spreading from your core.

“Hey!” you hear Porco yell as he lays you onto your back. Wincing, you tilt your chin to look at him. He meets your gaze, his eyes dark with panic, hysteria, and fury.

It’s only then that you become aware of the absence of both your legs, your left arm blown away from the socket. A gaping hole sits on your side and it proudly places the ivory curves of your ribs on full display. Blood soils Porco’s chest as he shifts your battered form into his arms. 

The bond between two Warriors is more than personal, more than emotional, more than intimate; you share the same pain and the same experiences among the field. That’s why it’s so hard to let go.

“Hang on!” Porco tells you, his tone rough. “I’ll carry you to the trenches!”

Porco’s footsteps are frantic and hurried as he runs with you, dodging bullets by using the other fighting Eldians as human shields throughout your path. It feels like hours, but you two make it to the ditch, sliding down into the dusty pit. Soldiers bustle around, some crowding around your form and others running to grab bandages to stop the bleeding.

You must look like a corpse, because when Porco looks back down at you, pure fear strains his face; his brows are pulled together and his mouth is sculpted into a grimace.

“It’s fine…” you murmur, voice hoarse. It almost doesn’t sound like your own. “I’ll be fine.”

Porco bitterly shakes his head. “You and your fucking hero complex,” he all but screams. “I told you that it would kill you, and you just had to make sure you proved me wrong!” 

You attempt to speak, but your words only come out as a guttural shudder from the back of your throat. The sound of your labored breathing and your lidded eyes makes Porco freeze. He swallows thickly, and you know he’s attempting to keep his composure. 

It doesn’t work. 

“I really need you to live. I really need you to – fuck,” Porco huffs. A large palm cradles your cheek and you lean into him; he’s touched you with that hand, many, many times. 

“Sorry,” you exhale shakily, black stars creeping in from the sides of your vision. Your head is swimming. “I’m sorry...” 

“It's okay. It's okay,” Porco whispers, smoothing your bloody hair away from your forehead and tucking loose strands behind your ears. His fingers are trembling against your temple. Tears prick at his eyes. 

Maybe it’s out of misplaced anger, or maybe it’s out of grief from the inevitable. Probably both. 

You hum when Porco holds you even tighter and lightly rocks you in his arms, planting a kiss on your blood-stained lips. 

“Stay with me,” he pleads, one last time. “Just stay.”

[atlabeth]

transferred part eight - atla smau

TRANSFERRED - zuko x fem!reader

masterlist | part 7 | part 9 

summary: trying to run from your past is hard, but falling for your brother’s roommate is even harder. little do you know he’s falling for you as well. 

wc: 4.5k 

warning(s): alcohol, gross guys, cursing, ppl getting drunk, suggestive themes, some pining, y/n being dumb of ass

a/n: i’ve been in a weird place with my writing so that’s why this took longer, it was a combination of writers block and lacking confidence in my writing so sdkjfhs. also for the ending? im sorry. but also im not 

taglist:  @ourbestfriend-mishacollins @lil-lex1 @xxshad0wxb1rdxx @zuko-is-the-sun @akiris @irohs-teapot @thatarthistorynerd @charlenasaxen @minninugget @marvel-ousnesss @count-thotticus @what-ye-egg @furblrwurblr @thesstuff @mariachiii @ietss @dizzy-miss-lizzieeeeee @xbarrjallenx @tommy-braccoli @dreamsluvrr @floofybread​ 

~~~~~~

“SOKKA, WE HAVE TO LEAVE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES! NOW OPEN THE DOOR OR I WILL BREAK IT DOWN MYSELF!” You banged your fist against the door for what felt like the hundredth time, and it seemed to finally work. The door swung open and your brother came out holding his hands up placatingly. You had to give it to him, his hair looked good, but with all the time he had spent styling it in there you would be disappointed if it wasn’t a masterpiece.

“Calm down, Y/N! You just don’t appreciate the art that goes into this,” he said with an exaggerated gesture to himself. You rolled your eyes and pushed past him, closing and locking the door behind him to make sure that no one would disturb you while you got ready. One downside to rooming with all boys was that no one knew how to knock, so you had to be extremely vigilant in making sure that no one walked in on you. 

You had spent a majority of your time picking out the perfect outfit for tonight after you and Zuko had gotten home. It was harder than you thought it was going to be to find something that said, ‘I’m available but not too available, I’m approachable but not too approachable, and also this is hot’, but after a lot of rifling through your closet you decided on a black backless top and navy blue jeans, something that looked good but did not warrant all the time spent searching. 

It didn’t take nearly as long to do your hair and makeup, maybe because you were rapidly running out of time, but you decided to just go with a simple look that brought out your eye color and what you usually did for parties for your hair. 

You nearly stabbed yourself in the eye with your mascara wand when you heard banging on the door. “Y/N, WE HAVE TO LEAVE IN FIVE MINUTES! NOW OPEN THE DOOR OR I WILL BREAK IT DOWN MYSELF!”

“Sokka, if you’re gonna yell at me then BE ORIGINAL!” You called back as you finished your eyes up. You shoved all the products back into your makeup bag then checked your hair one last time before leaving the bathroom. 

“How do I look, boys?” You walked into the kitchen and grabbed your purse off the island, testing the waters with the heels you had decided to wear last minute. They were only a couple inches but it had been a while since you wore them, and you would prefer if you didn’t fall over in front of every hot person at this party. 

Sokka followed you into the kitchen after nearly getting hit by the door, his tone somehow exasperated already. “You look fine. Now can we please get going? It’s one thing to be fashionably late, but we can’t be LATE late.”

“I love the heels, Y/N,” Aang gave you a grin and two thumbs up which you returned. 

When you looked to Zuko for his reaction, you were surprised to see a faint blush dusting his cheeks and his eyes wider than usual as they lingered on you. “You look- um- wow. You look great. Are you sure you won’t get cold?”

You felt your face heat up and you smiled, subconsciously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I can just borrow your jacket if I need to,” you teased with a wink as you walked past him. “Come on Sokka, I’ll race you for shotgun!” 

“Oh, that is so cheap—!” Before you knew it, the two of you were sprinting out the door, pushing each other 

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Zuko,” Aang said jokingly once you were out of the apartment, the distant yells of you and your brother bouncing through the hallway. “Y’know, you could probably make a move tonight. I think she’s into you!” 

“I- that’s not- I wasn’t- we’re just friends!” Zuko stammered as he picked up his keys from the table, finally snapping out of his stupor.

“Whatever you say, Sifu Hotman!” 

“I don’t— it’s not like that!”

~~~~~~

It was a quick ride over to the apartment with Sokka’s instructions — who had somehow beat you to the car winning shotgun (you blamed your heels) — and soon you were in front of Apartment B29 knocking on the door. A man about your age opened the door, and you blinked in surprise as you were hit by the wave of noise coming from inside. Sokka pushed past you and did a very complicated handshake with the guy before clapping him on the back. 

“Kento, how are ya doin’? I brought my roommates with me, is that cool?”

“Of course, man! The more the merrier!” Sokka grinned and high-fived him and the four of you moved inside, all of your senses assaulted by a barrage of.. everything. 

It was a surprisingly active party in a surprisingly big place, but you supposed that had to be the case for someone to throw something this size. Your eyes immediately started drifting around, searching for your friends that had arrived before you, and you started tugging on Aang’s shirt and pointing. “There they are! Come on!” 

You practically dragged the poor boy behind you as your brother and Zuko followed behind in a less forced way, and you barreled into Suki, each knocking the air out of each other with the strength of your hugs.

“You’re here!” Suki looked at your outfit and whistled. “And you look fantastic? This is the Y/N that I have been missing!”

You laughed and pulled away from her, giving one armed hugs to both Katara and Toph before settling in while everyone else greeted each other. “Gotta make a good first impression on BSSU guys, right?” 

“Oh, I think you already have,” Katara smirked, her eyes flicking over to Zuko for a second before training back on you. 

You furrowed your brows, about to question Katara further, when Suki gasped and grabbed your hand. 

“Oh, speaking of guys! There are a couple guys in my psych class tht are here that I think you’d really be into. Come on!” Suki started pulling you away and you looked back at the rest of the group with an amused expression before giving in and running away with her. 

Katara groaned, looking at Toph with desperation that she couldn’t see. “That girl is hopeless. How am I supposed to do my matchmaking if she’s trying to set her up with random guys?” 

“Guess you’ll either have to try harder or let it go, sugar queen.” 

“You know I’m not letting this go.” Katara could’ve kept going on about it, but thankfully for Toph, Aang slung his arm around Katara’s shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. 

“Come on, Katara! Let’s start this party off right.” The two of them grinned at each other and went off to the midst of everyone, no doubt to dance together. 

“Zuko? You there?” Toph questioned.

“Yeah?” Parties were very much not Zuko’s thing, so he didn’t exactly know what he was going to do now that everyone had split up.

Toph elbowed him and started walking through the crowd, Zuko following hurriedly after her as he rubbed his shoulder. “What was that for?”

“It’s how I show affection.” Toph grabbed onto his hand so that she wouldn’t run into everything in her way, and continued walking. “Now come on, let’s do something! Sokka’s talking with his boys, Y/N is probably off hitting on some guys while Suki encourages her, and Katara and Aang are doing some dumb couple stuff. Which means that we have to do something.” 

Zuko chuckled and shrugged. “Sure.” Hopefully Suki wasn’t serious about setting you up. Of course, he didn’t like you like that, but you were too good for the kind of guy that you would find at this kind of party. He supposed that he was that kind of guy because he was here, but he was different, right? You wouldn’t see him in that light— 

“Ow! Why’d you do that again?” Zuko was sure he was going to have a bruise if he hung out with Toph for the rest of the night.

“Because I can tell that you’re thinking of something stupid.”

“I am not—

“Zuko, I can’t even see you and I know you’re lying.”  

He was suddenly too distracted to focus on Toph calling him out because he saw you, talking animatedly with a couple of guys and Suki by your side. They all started laughing at whatever you said, and your smile, even from that far away, made his heart flutter. But for some reason, seeing you with those boys made him feel.. annoyed.

He didn’t even realize he was clenching his fists until Toph hit him, albeit softer, on the shoulder. “Lighten up on the grip, sparky!”

“Sorry,” he said, blinking a couple of times. “Let’s keep going.”

This was going to be a long night for Zuko.

~~~~~~

You had separated from the group to get another drink, having already finished your cup in the time it took to tell a couple stories. You pursed your lips and picked a beer up from the cooler, then placed the cap on the edge of the table and slammed down on top of it with your other hand. The bottle cap fell off and you took a sip, pleased that it worked. It was a party trick you had picked up when you first moved to Kyoshi, and though using a bottle opener was loads easier, this was more fun. 

“Nice move.” You turned around, surprised when you heard a voice behind you, nearly spilling your drink in the process. It belonged to a tall, brown haired boy with some interesting eyebrows and a toothpick in his mouth. 

“Thanks.” You smiled lightly and moved to walk away, but he blocked your path. 

“What, do I not get a name?” His words had an air of cockiness to them, and he leaned against the wall next to the table. “I’m Jet.” 

“Ohhhh, you’re Jet.” You took a sip of your drink to mask your grimace and rolled your eyes, already looking around for Suki to get away to. Your sister had told you about her experiences with this guy, and though there was some irony in him hitting on you all these years later, you weren’t into it. “Yeah, no thanks.” 

You started to walk away but he wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you back to him, causing you to let out a small yelp. You were already kinda tipsy, so you got much closer than you would’ve liked (being in the same room with him was too close to be fair) and he smirked at you. Now this, this was definitely how you wanted your night to go. 

“Come on darling, just give me a chance. I’m not that bad.” He was attractive, you would admit that, but the way he was acting was a red flag that you weren’t going to miss again. 

“Oh, I’m sure you are.” You tried to pull your wrist out of his grip but he wasn’t budging. You glared up at him and set your jaw. “Do you really want to do this tonight? Because I’ve got time, buddy.”

“I’m just asking a pretty girl for her name, it’s not a crime. Of course, I’ll also go for your number.” He was smooth as ever, unfazed until another voice cut in.

“She said no. Now leave her alone, Jet.” 

You felt his grip loosen on your wrist and you immediately pulled away, looking over to see who had saved you from the fight that you were sure was imminent. Your eyes lit up when you saw that it was Zuko, and you backed over so that you were on his side. You noticed he ever so slightly positioned himself in front of you. 

“Ah.. You two a thing?” The confidence from before was replaced with what looked like anger with a hint of jealousy. 

“No, he’s just a guy that knows what ‘no’ means,” you shot back. Now you wanted to fight, but Zuko took your hand and shook his head. 

“He’s not worth it. Let’s go, Y/N.” He started walking away and you followed, but were unable to resist one more jab at that cocky jerk. 

“I’m not into jerks that fuck over my sister!” You yelled over your shoulder as Zuko pulled you away. The two of you emerged out of the apartment onto the empty balcony, and you inhaled the fresh air. 

“Thanks for that. I think I would’ve started a fight if I stayed there for another second.” You tipped back the rest of your beer and frowned, twirling the bottle between your fingers before setting it on the ground next to you. “God, this sucks. Why am I drinking it again?” 

“Because you’re a broke college kid that wants to get drunk at a party thrown by other broke college kids?” Zuko offered helpfully. 

You hummed in agreement and leaned your back against the railing, pointing your finger at him. “Right on the mark, mister.” 

He smiled as he leaned against the wall, conveniently ignoring the chair right next to him. You figured it was for his ‘cool guy image’, but it was once again doing it for you. “He didn’t hurt you or anything, right?” 

You snorted and shook your head, running a hand through your hair as you looked into the night. The party was still going on strong back inside, but it was nice to get away for a moment, especially with Zuko. “Nah. If he tried anything, he would be the one getting hurt.”

Zuko chuckled, pushing himself up from the wall and walking over to you. Another thing you had noticed from living with him and being his classmate — this boy could not sit still. “I believe that wholeheartedly.” 

“Does Jet have something against you?” You questioned, casting a glance at him. “Because as soon as you showed up, he looked really angry.” 

“We have some.. messy history. Some stuff that happened in high school that he can’t let go.” Zuko stared down at the ground and you nodded, taking that as a sign to not push further.

“It’s like the only guys I attract are douchebags,” you groaned, letting your head fall back to stare at the sky. “But seriously, thank you. You never know how guys like that get when you reject them.”

“Anything for you.” Zuko’s eyes widened when he realized what he said and he tried to cover it up with a cough, stammering to fix it. “B-because you’re one of my roommates! And my friend! And it’s not like I would just leave one of my friends to fend by themselves especially when they’re drunk—”

“Shhhhhh.” You waved your hand in front of his face, trying to get him to stop. “You, my good sir, talk too much.” You let out a laugh at his expression and mimicked his stance, resting your forearms against the railing and shivering a bit as a gust of wind blew by. “Just.. stand here for a little with me. Appreciate the stars,” you crooned with a flourish of your arm. 

You both stood there in comfortable silence, the sounds of the party raging behind you reduced to mere background noise as you became lost in your surroundings. It was just you, Zuko, and the sky. 

“It’s beautiful,” you mused.

“It is,” he agreed. When you glanced at him, you saw that Zuko’s eyes had never left you. Your face immediately heated up and you averted your gaze with a small smile, self-consciously brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. This time when you shivered you felt something being draped around your shoulders and your eyes widened in surprise when you saw it was Zuko giving you his jacket. You prayed to any god that would listen that he couldn’t see how flushed your cheeks were. 

“What are you doing?” 

“You did say you would borrow mine if you got cold, right?” 

You hummed thoughtfully and slipped your arms into the sleeves, already feeling warmer. Whether it was from not having your whole back exposed or wearing something of Zuko’s though, you didn’t know. “I guess I did.”

When you met his gaze again, it was like some invisible force was stopping you from looking away. All of the sounds of the party faded away, and it was like the world around you had stopped. It was just you and Zuko, and you unconsciously started leaning forward. 

You jumped and nearly screamed when you felt a buzz against your back pocket, letting out a relieved breath when you realized it was only your phone. You pulled out your phone and tried your hardest to look absorbed in it, trying to pretend like you weren’t just about to try and kiss Zuko right then. That moment was completely and wholly ruined. 

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes as you read the text on your phone and started to walk back inside. “Apparently Aang and Toph have gotten into a debate about… moral relativism? God, I have no idea why they’re talking about that at a party, or who they’re even arguing with, but apparently it’s getting heated. Wanna come with?” 

Zuko chuckled and shook his head. “I think I’ll take a few more moments out here. Parties drain me sometimes.” In truth, he needed a while to process what just happened between the two of you, what he had done. He definitely hadn’t imagined that moment, and he knew he would be thinking of your eyes and how they sparkled in the moonlight for days to come. 

“Ah, I totally get you, man. Take all the time you need, text me if you need anything!” You winked at him and ran back inside, which Zuko reciprocated with a light smile.

~~~~~~

You spent the rest of the night having a great time — drinking more shitty beer with Sokka, dancing with Katara and Toph, singing so badly to the music with Suki that you were amazed they hadn’t kicked you out, and telling stories to anyone who would listen with Aang’s assistance (you two made a great team). The only thing you needed was some time with Zuko - besides the time you spent together out on the balcony you had hardly seen him doing anything that wasn’t hanging on the outside of the party. The not-so-hushed conversations between three drunk girls and the designated driver about it went just as well as one might think. 

“Look how sad he looks! Who comes to a party just to not party?” You caught Zuko’s eye again and waved, which he returned with a smile and a small wave of his own. 

“Zuko does. He’s all ‘look at me! I’m going to show how cool and brooding I am by not doing anything. All the chicks dig it,’” Toph mocked, dropping her voice lower to imitate Zuko. 

“Toph, that is so mean! You can’t even see him.” Suki placed her hands on each side of Toph’s face which Toph immediately slapped away. “You are so beautiful. You are a beautiful blind woman, and we need to dance.” 

“Suki, why are your hands so cold- oh my GOD—” Suki grabbed Toph’s hand and pulled her into the fray, causing you to dissolve into giggles. You grabbed Katara’s shoulder and looked back over at Zuko. 

“He looks so sad, Katara! I can’t stand it!” You stared your sister in the eyes and put your other hand on her shoulder. “I’m gonna ask him to dance. I’m going to pull that beautiful man out of the shadows of his angst and I’m going to make him dance to this trashy pop song with me and bring out his happiness.”

Katara snorted and placed her hand over yours on her shoulder, casting a glance at Zuko as well. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m pretty sure the only reason he’s here is because he has to drive you guys home.”  

“My dear sister, I’m afraid to tell you that you are wrong. No one—” you gestured to yourself. “—can be sad around this.” 

You clapped Katara on the shoulder then pushed your way through the crowd until you got to Zuko, not even giving him a chance to react before you grabbed his hand and started pulling him behind you back into the center of the party. 

“What are you doing?” He yelled, having to raise his voice to be heard over the music and everyone around the two of you. 

“I’m getting you to dance with me!” You grinned, letting go of his hand and facing him once you had gotten far enough in. He looked so out of his element that your eyes softened immediately and you put your hand on his shoulder. 

“Zuko, if you’re uncomfortable then you can tell me and you can go back to what you were doing before. But please, just give this a chance for one minute. I think you’ll have fun.” 

A beat of silence passed before he nodded, and your smile returned. “Y/N, you know I’ve danced before, right?” 

“I don’t doubt it. But you haven’t danced the Y/N way.” The song conveniently changed to an upbeat, commercial pop song, and you gasped. “And this is the perfect song to start with! Come on, just follow my lead!” 

You started to dance like no one was watching, jumping up and down, waving your arms around, and doing some truly ridiculous moves. Zuko stifled a laugh and you beckoned for him to come closer. “Get in on this, man! You promised me one minute, which means one minute of this.” 

Zuko started to inch closer but you grabbed his hand once more and pulled him in, doing all of your moves from before but this time holding onto his hand. You looked so carefree, so happy, that Zuko couldn’t not do this with you. You were right that this wasn’t his scene, but he would do a lot of things if it meant seeing you like this.

Suki ran back to Katara, pulling a disheveled Toph behind her, and she gestured with her head at you and Zuko with a questioning look. “Is Zuko.. dancing? To a trashy pop song?” 

Katara chuckled and nodded. “Yep.” 

“Oh my god, is she wearing his jacket?” 

“Yep.” 

“Zuko doing things at a party and not just brooding in the corner? I think the world’s about to end,” Toph said. 

“I think my sister just has that effect on him, somehow.” Katara sighed happily, looking back at her two friends with a twinkle in her eye. You grabbed onto Zuko’s hands and pulled him closer, swinging your hands back and forth between the two of you as the song changed to a more chill beat. “I haven’t seen him smile this much in ages.” 

You ended up dancing together for a whole lot more than one minute. 

~~~~~~

“I just- I want you guys to know how much I love you. Sokka brought us to this cool ass party, Aang is a ball of literal sunshine, my girls always got my back, and Zuko gave me his jacket because I was cold. Not that I could be cold around you, because you. Are. Hot.” Your words were slightly slurred as you and your friends walked through the parking lot. and your eyes widened as you started taking it off. “Oh shit, do you want this back? I totally forgot that I was wearing it.” 

“No- no, you can keep it! I don’t mind.” Tonight had definitely changed something between you and Zuko. Your time on the balcony together, him giving you his jacket, somehow roping him into dancing like an idiot, and all these compliments that you were just throwing around? His feelings were all over the place, but it was just the party getting to him, right? You two were friends. Nothing else. But the more you flashed that smile at him, the harder it got to convince himself that was all you two were. That it was all he wanted you two to be. 

“Alright, so let me get this straight. Toph and Y/N are coming home with me to our dorm, Zuko is driving the boys back to their apartment, and Suki is abandoning us to get it on with my brother?” Katara questioned, clicking the button on her keys a few times to unlock her car. 

“I’m not abandoning you if I told you about it before we came here!” Suki and Sokka were holding hands, constantly whispering and laughing to each other the entire way out of the apartment. “You know that every party there’s a very real possibility of us going home together.” 

“Yeah, and I try not to think about it,” she said wryly as she helped Toph into the passenger seat. “Make sure they don’t do anything stupid, Zuko?” 

“I can’t make any promises. You know how they are.” 

“Hey! We are two adults in a loving relationship and we are allowed to do whatever we want—” Sokka protested, leaning against Suki for support. 

“We don’t want to hear about that, Sokka! Just— don’t mess up my part of the room, okay? And if you do anything on my bed I will ruin you.” You pointed at him accusingly and Suki gave him a big kiss. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N! It’s all gonna be fine,” Suki grinned at you and poked Sokka’s cheek, and you shook your head. 

“I’m too drunk and too sleep deprived to deal with this,” you grumbled as you climbed into the back seat of Katara’s car, nearly falling over as soon as you sat down. 

“Take care of her, okay?” Zuko muttered to Katara as he walked past her. She mock saluted and grinned. 

“As if I’m capable of anything else.” 

Through the window you could see Aang and Zuko talking about something while you left the parking lot, but you couldn’t hear them. “Whaddya think they’re talking about?” 

“It’s probably nothing,” Katara said with a smile. 

~~~~~~

Soon, you, Katara, and Toph were all back at the dorm, sitting on the floor talking together. It had been a long time since you had gotten some girl time, and no other time was better than after partying your heart out. 

You pulled out your phone and stared at it, tuning out Katara and Toph as they started going on about one of their classes. You had an internal conversation with yourself, then unlocked it and went to your messages. Drunk you was taking control, and drunk you was not the smartest.