#it drives me in circles not knowing if ebony was ever supposed to be a Little right

[borrelia]

thinking about this. sorry . thinking about this

now i know. that like. economy of storytelling etc etc but sonic's friends never succeed with the "nooo this isnt you" thing bc super. hates sonic. but ebony (super's friend) at least gets him to slow down, if just to sike her out, bc she appeals to super's true nature. and cares about super. him. do you see.

[the-wintershade]

in another life (I surely was there)

pairing: loki x reader summary: he wants to create a new world and he needs you -- loves you, but love is corrupt and he fails to realize the corrosiveness of his affections. wc: 3.1k+ genre: slightly angsty, dark, unhealthy desires, villian!loki

The first thing he learns is there is always darkness in the dawn. 

Thrown onto the ground after portaling to Joutenheim, he cowers in the face of danger and death but swallows the unnecessary emotions with a pearly grin. There’s nothing that grin can’t repair, can’t magically fix. 

They speak, the giant’s red stare burning holes in Loki’s perfectly concocted excuse. He bites back his unrestrainable irritation and partial embarrassment and continues with the facade hoping that they’ll grant his true desire. 

….

He watches it in your face. 

Your eyes zone onto his and he feels the anger, hurt, disappointment vibrating in the air around you — even if you are several feet in front of him. Your chest heaves, blood stains your brow crimson, and your eyes curl with darkness, conjuring every hateful emotion available to you. 

But you smile at him, lips painted red. And it’s the smile that frightens him the most. 

It’s not a smile of joy like he’s used to, but a smile with the promise of retribution, with the inkling of death and the promise of a deep, chilling anguish. 

He knows he shouldn’t have left. And you turn away from him, throwing yourself back into the slaughter, defending the innocent while he watches, rooted in place, afraid — not by you but for you. 

…

You ignore him. 

Even when beaten to a pulp and unable to lift a leg muscle, you refuse his help. It is the captain who carries you to the safety of the jet as you cling to consciousness. 

He feels how desperately you sway between life and death and hovers around, wanting to fight the man of black with a sharpened scythe. He can’t take you away, you still have sinners to punish, breakers of justice and righteousness to cleanse. 

Your work here can’t be done. It’s barely begun. 

He watched you go into the fray, punching wildly, impacts of limbs constantly striking you, repeatedly, without stopping. He would have stepped in if you hadn’t been so, so—

Your eyes peel themselves open and a moan escapes your mouth and it’s like he’s breathing again for the first time. They don’t stay open long enough; he needs to feel that wrath inducing stare pin down. But he can relax. You’ll pull through, he’s sure of that. 

….

He finds out quickly that everything won’t go back to normal with flowers...or chocolate...or a gem refined by the dwarfs. 

Nothing brings you back to him and he eats every present he brings you with no eye contact, no acknowledgement, and no indication that you’re aware he’s here. 

He feels hollow, invisible, a ghost to forever haunt an unbeliever. 

Bandages nearly obscure your face and now he feels horrible for leaving you and the others to fight the demon spawns of some alien race. He may have made a terrible mistake there but he couldn’t comprehend how you could ignore him so well. 

He couldn’t understand how you frosted over in one day and now you were an impenetrable block of ice that no amount of warmth and care and heat he produced, you wouldn’t crack. 

He was supposed to be the heartless one, not you. This was wrong.

…

“Why are you avoiding me? Why are you trying so hard to be as far away as possible?” He breaks the tension in the air, splitting the unspoken rule of silence established when it was just the two of you in a room. 

It wasn’t like him to talk about motivations or ideas behind doing things. It wasn’t like him to bring up conflict. He was doing a lot of things he wasn’t used to doing now. 

You glared. There was nothing in your eyes that gave the inkling of a promised answer. 

He took two steps forward and you crossed to the other side of the room. 

He felt it then. The split, the divide, the chasm that had opened between the two of you. 

You wanted nothing to do with him. Nothing at all. And he was still holding onto who you used to be. Both stuck in limbo. Both trapped in each other. 

Instead of saying anything, you exited the room and Loki just stopped and stared. Maybe it’s time to give up. Maybe it’s time to let go. 

…

You fall through the air. 

And you smile. 

That’s the first thing he finds strange. The second is your obvious lack of concern for your own safety. Because you used to warn him all the time to protect himself and be careful, always with a hidden undercurrent in your words. 

Loki wasn’t good at emotional attachment so he brushed away your warm eyes, easy to fall into, and did whatever. 

Now he feels what you must have felt when he was being reckless. Uncertainty. Fear. 

The wind whips your hair and Loki only hesitates a second in horror before catching you and teleporting you to solid ground with him. 

He holds you firmly, but you still refuse to pay him any mind. “Don’t—“ he breathes raggedly, as if he’d run a mile in the past few seconds. “Don’t ever do that again.”

He watches you fragment. The walls you’ve carefully built fall for a moment and only a moment before those soft, open eyes shift into a predatory, hateful gaze. 

You shake out of his arms and weave out of his reach. “You should have let me fall.” You toss over the back of your shoulder and it’s the first time Loki can remember the echoing staccato of hurt. 

…

He doesn’t leave. Not this time. Not even when the whole team is beaten senseless. 

Not even when his skin is turning all shades of black and blue and his legs crumple under the strain. Not even when this battle is going so far left that he’s certain that you’ll all be overrun.

He bites back the bile worming its way through his throat and cuts down another monster, a twisted creation he likely had some involvement in sending there. His fingers ache from gripping harder than necessary on the handle of his knife. He lets them flex, breathing against the tight cage he forced them into.

He’d missed it. It was too late for any reaction as it sunk into his abdomen. 

He couldn’t scream. Oh no. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of a whimper or a plea for forgiveness. He was already light years past that now. 

Besides the quick response of his limbs that move on their own to drive his weapon down to the hilt into their throat, the pain is still there. Blooming. Spreading faster than he anticipated. 

The monster had gotten him good. Better than he could have done while he was paying attention to you.

You were like Tyr himself, a devastating figure of little remorse and brute strength. He knew what that power could do to a person. Its fuel lies in the deep recesses of the mind, midnight ebony and bloodstained red colliding to produce a substance of deep scorching pain. Yours spilled right out of you; it was like he could see it. Like it had a tangible shape, a shadow that clung to you, echoing your movements like a spectral warrior.

And it was impressive and so out of character for you. 

Loki was awed by you once again and that awe led to his own demise. Figures.

He’s not bitter about it all, hitting the ground, watching vermillion soak his clothes and bury into the earth. He’s not devastated that his one true wish might not be fulfilled. 

He’s thankful. For the first time in his life, he’s grateful to watch you become the force he knew you always could be. 

He’s just sorry that he might have been the catalyst for such change.

…

“Loki.” Your face contorts in determination and a firm pleading. “Loki, can you hear me?” He would have thought this was the afterlife, the final test, the final trial to make everything right before he would inevitably be sent to hell. Then he saw the red smeared against the corner of your mouth and knew, oh, I’m still breathing.

He sees no traces of real concern on your face and his own falls at the absence. He just wishes he could make it all right. That he could change that stupid wish he’d made so many weeks ago.

But he was bound. 

There was nothing he could do to get out of it all. He’d be stuck until the plan was fulfilled. 

“Don’t die, okay? Just-” He watches your face contort in a mixture of pain and anxiety. For the first time in a while, he believes that he may be able to peel the darkness back, beat his doubts and the voices in his head warning him that all this will be for nought.

But they always return, always creep along in the back of his mind, circling like one of Odin’s devout warriors, ravens ready to devour a meal.

He’ll lose you, one way or another. 

And that terrifies him more than the blue skin and red eyes he knows he has. It scares him more than his brotherhood with the giants of old and their unnatural complexion — his unnatural appearance.

He’s doing this all for a reason, a purpose that he can see, but others can’t. He doesn’t fool himself that you’ll be able to see it too.

“Hold on.” Your words warm him. He doesn’t feel the sting of the cold when you’re near. He can trick himself and believe that he’s human, not the being of frost that hides beneath the pallor of his glamour.

And when your hand slips into his own, bolstering ice with flame, he breaks in two. He’ll lose you. He knows you’ll leave him too.

��

He can feel you there, right next to him in recovery. He’s well aware of the scorn that the members of earth’s defenders have given you. 

He almost wishes that you would run away from him, cast him off like everyone else does. But a bigger part is thankful that you stayed, even if it’s selfish, even if the end will be bitter.

Your hand is right there next to him. It lies limp on the bed, your head lolled to the side in your slumber. His hand crosses the space separating you from physical contact and grasps your hand in his.

You stir, eyes blurry and dark, waiting, coiled and ready to spring. Gently, he brings your hand to his lips. He feels the darkness stir underneath and in a few days time, everything will fall into place.

He’s just sorry it had to be this way.

“I love you.” He’s not lying when he says it. He’s not saying it because it will win you over, not because he feels obligated to. He’s saying it because it’s the truth. 

There’s no grin to hide behind, no smile to cover up a trick. Just him and you and the truth.

Your eyes widen but the guard is still there, the walls are still up. He notices the black splotches in your irises recede for just a moment and then the moment’s gone.

The Avengers think it’s a side effect of a monster bite and the black veins, spiderweb bruising, and your general temperament will return to normal. But it won’t. You’ll be consumed and if you don’t fight your way out, you could die.

But he doesn’t see that in your future.

You’re too strong.

Your eyes watch his, waiting for the trick, for the moment the cat is out of the bag. When you don’t see one, your hold on him tightens. The words never come out of your mouth and he’s not sure that you can fully reciprocate his words, but you feel something and it’s strong enough to keep you within reach.

He’s thankful that you’ll share this moment together, that maybe this memory won’t be soiled when the change happens.

…

You’re gone.

The change came a few days later and Hel was right there, as was originally discussed, ready to take you for when the time came, when the final days of asgard were in sight.

He flashed that charming smile at his sister and tired to bargain with her. He knew that not seeing you was apart of the plan, that for this to work in accordance with the frost giants he would have to avoid seeing you.

But that wasn’t enough for him. He was greedy, what could he say?

It’s why he was doing this all in the first place.

For the greed of power, of recognition, of the world paying attention to the insignificant brother next to the heir to the throne. It was for the world to forever know his name. He was greedy and selfish; he wouldn’t deny that.

But he was even more greedy when it comes to you. He didn’t want to let you go. He would fight, tooth and nail, to hold onto you.

But Hel, holding your almost completely corrupted figure from falling to the ground, refused. She said no.

You were her warrior now and you’d be a powerful force at that.

And then she sank into the underground, dragging you, her slave, down with her.

The hole in his chest grew that much larger and without trying to, he fell to the grass where you just stood, gripping it firmly in his fingers, feeling the gap between you grow that much larger.

…

It’s been years now. Odin is dead. Ragnorak has begun.

His face is bloody and he no longer hides who he is, no longer denies his true self from the world. 

His skin is a deep cobalt and his eyes burn like rubies set ablaze. He runs with his brothers, no longer ashamed, no longer afraid of the wrath of the Asir. He’s free to burn down his false home as he chooses and Hel has brought her warriors.

The thought of you crossed his mind a few times, wondering where your face would be in the crowd, what powers you would have, how dark and twisted you might have become.

He still feels horrible, but it was for a purpose.

Somehow he hopes he’ll live long enough to see you again, when this is all over, when he’s able to explain everything.

…

“Loki?” He cradled your broken body against him, smoothing the hair and grime from your face. The black lines receded from your face and you were no longer a demon. Loki now looked like the frost giant he was. It was truth to truth, no cover ups or falsities. “Why did you abandon me?”

Abandon?

No, he didn’t abandon you. He helped you work towards a higher purpose. He endowed you with something greater.

“No, no. I didn’t abandon you, (name). I helped you. I made you something greater.” He watched your eyes unfocus and waited before you were able to speak again.

“You lied and corrupted and hurt me. You made me a monster who does horrible things. You dragged me into a war that had nothing to do with me.” You lolled your head over in his direction, the ebony lines weaving in and out of your pupils. “You killed me. My death is your fault.”

He almost dropped you. This was nonsense, slander. You couldn’t be serious. You had to see it his way now. This was necessary. The world was evil and abandones others, but he was there to make it right again.

The world needed a new world order. He was going to give it to them.

“No, (name).” He pulled you closer and gazed deeply into your eyes. “I love you. I want greatness for you. I need you here with me.”

You laughed, laughed harder than you should be able to while on the brink of death. Your hand came up to cup his cheek. “You were always the gullible brother.”

You transformed in front of his eyes and in your stead, Hel stared right back at him. “Like my little performance? I thought that your broken human would be a great way to fool you.”

She streaked against the ash on the ground and Loki stood up, watching her with malice. As he made a dash in her direction, he ran into a bubble, a forcefield of power locking him in. A cage. Another cursed cage.

“You didn’t really think that you’d come on top of this battle.” She smirked and then scoffed at the shock on his face. “You’re too weak brother. You’re too naive. You think you know everything when the person you should have been asking about death was me.” His eyes burned and stinged. “If you want to wipe the slate clean and rule this new world, at least pair with the right person to accomplish your goals. The frost giants never needed you; they needed me. I am going to rule this new world while you sit here in this prison for the rest of eternity.”

He slummed, defeated, tears of shame ready to coat his face. “Oh, and while we were on the subject of your precious little human, you should know that she was wonderful. So much potential, so much power and strength. It’s really a shame that she fell. I was fond of her.”

She smirked when he crumbled. “Tootles, darling.”

Waving, she walked away into the darkness, into death, what she lived and breathed, while Loki sat, in the remnants of Asgard, wondering how he could have thought that this was going to end up any differently.

And as he turned, he found you, sprawled on the ground, a hole in your chest, eyes staring right at him asking, how could you, how could you, how could you? 

I love you, I love you, I love you.

…

100 years have passed and he still sits in this forgotten cage in a forgot era. He’s let out from time to time, completing one job or another, but he’s eventually locked up again, doomed to live a lonely existence.

He still sees that face. He still sees your eyes that used to shine.

Loki knew you were aware that he was up to something, that he’d betrayed you somehow, that your story and his were intertwined forever. 

And then he sees the darkness take shape, how you’re taking risks you didn’t used to, how your nature changed.

He realized that’s love. That’s what it does to people. Love won’t save, love will corrupt. The name of love means nothing, trust means nothing, and he was foolish to think that you would understand.

But he would find another.

Maybe someone a little stronger, a little purer, and a little more in love with him. Maybe he’d find someone who understood and in the next 500 years, he’d be able to win this time.

Maybe the 6th attempt would be the charm.

a/n: hi, it’s been a while. I hope you’re taking care of yourself and taking the time you need.

I love you. It’s good to be back. 

~Ruby

[theskyisbrighthere]

Meet Me in The Middle Chapter 3

let me know what you guys think!

Grace can’t say that she’s smart. In fact, she’s a bit of an idiot. Which is probably how she’s managed to land herself into this situation. By the Gods she hates this world. All the differences are so hugely different from her own. Although some things are the same (like her job, just the foods have different names and why the fuck they call Jarem Ebony she’ll never fucking know) she still gets hugely home sick.

Although some things about this world are better than her own; the added protection of the Kings men being everywhere, free healthcare, (and some ailments even cured by potions. But if you ask Grace, she’ll call it magic cause wow) liveable wage and even extra money left over every week. (And how nice to be able to pay rent weekly instead of monthly because fuck that.) Education was a right and not a privilege and all schools were top of the line and equal in its funding.

Not that she knows that. Grace had gone to school and graduated by the time she had gotten here. The hardest thing she’s had to adjust to the most though was the different Gods. All her life she’s followed her own and then getting to a different planet and being told (not that anyone knows) that her Gods aren’t real. It honestly felt like a kick to the face, one that hasn’t stopped happening. Despite that, Grace has continued to pray to her own Gods and swept these new ones to the side.

She just wants to know how she ended up on this planet and not the one she was supposed to end up on. Which begs the question. Where the hell are her people?

-X-

Grace is really trying her hardest to stay positive. But the dickhead that is her neighbour is really trying her patience, it’s been nearly two hours and the music that is very loudly pulsing from said dickheads apartment into her own is damn near driving her insane. Just as she’s about to get up and storm to said apartment to tell them to please shut the fuck up- (not that she would say that she’d be a bit more polite) the music stops. Just like that its quiet, her apartment no longer quaking. Its so sudden that Grace stops in shock and isn’t quite sure what to do now. Thinking quickly, she turns on her heels, her dress flaring out in the spin and heads back to the armchair to pick up the book that she had carelessly put down in her quest to yell at her rude neighbour.

Fully intent on getting back into the flow of the story, Grace settled in on the armchair throwing her legs over one side and settling her back on the other. She’s just settled in and has managed to get halfway through the page she is currently on when she starts to feel a familiar warm itch of arousal slowly stirring underneath her skin. Trying her best to ignore it she shifts slightly in a mild attempt to shake it off and continue with her reading. Feeling it get more insistent Grace groaned to herself, marked the page she was on with the bookmark threw it to the side and buried her face in her hands and did her best not to scream from frustrated desperation. She doesn't want this. Doesn't need it, it's almost cruel. She doesn't think she'll be able to make it through this one. The insistent itch happens multiple times a day and nearly always when its most inconvenient for her.

Groaning again Grace sat up and heaved herself off the armchair in search of a glass of water to try and soothe the Gods awful itch. Heading into the kitchen and reaching into the cupboard for a glass, she did her best to think about anything but the throb that had started to make itself known between her thighs. Squeezing said thighs together, she turned on the sink to fill up the glass and then brought it to her lips, she prayed that if she just ignored it then it would go away .

Yeah right, as if she’s ever been that lucky.

Putting the now empty glass in the sink, Grace did her best to think about anything but the ache between her legs. And in doing so and without meaning to thought about the Alpha that she had unintentionally abandoned. The ache between her legs magnified tenfold at the thought. Swearing to herself Grace knew that any thought of her pre-heat going away now was non-existent.

Pushing herself off the bunch that she had ended up leaning against, she made it her mission to get to her room before her willpower gave out and she shoved her hand down her into her underwear then and there to try and get the week from hell over. She made it to her bedroom doorframe before her logical side lost to her primal side. Pushing herself up against the inside of the door Grace does her best to suppress the moan that drags itself out of her throat once her hand makes its way underneath the waist band of her underwear and makes contact with her clit.

The thoughts on her Alpha return and she lets them. She thinks about her good he would be, the size of his hands and how they would feel on her skin, how he would grab and squeeze and hold. How they would bend inside of her and hit that sweet spot that makes her see stars. How his lips would feel pressed against her own. His lips against her skin, sucking and kissing. How his tongue would feel pressed against hers, pressed just right on her most intimate part and the thought tore a moan from her along with a burst of pleasure that was a lot more powerful than she was used too.

Bucking against her hand that was rubbing tight little circles against her clit, she did her best to try and slow down, feeling herself hurtling toward the finish line and wanting to savour it (which she thought was ironic seeing as she didn’t want this to start off with). Moaning again when she felt the hot sharp painful pang of pleasure flash through her, she did her best to stay upright on shaking legs, (of which she had arched up onto her toes without even noticing) as another bolt of painful pleasure surged through her again. She could feel her body starting to get warm and thoughts of her Alpha had resurfaced.

She felt another hot bolt of pleasure when she thought about his own body pressed against hers, his body weight forcing her into the mattress while he whispered lewd things into her ear, holding her down while he gave hard firm thrusts that would drive her toward her own orgasm, how he wou-

Her fantasy is cut short when her orgasm thunders through her with a furious tenacity that almost scares her. She rides her hand through it and slowly slides her way down her wall while trying to calm her breathing through the last of her aftershocks. When she attempts to stand a few minutes later her legs feel like jelly and she wobbles when she tries to walk forward. Slowly walking towards her bathroom she makes her way to the shower, turns on the water and while she waits for it to heat, takes off her dress (her underwear already gone from her shameful display) and gets into the shower after she’s done. Hoping that the painful orgasm will hold back her Heat for at least another day or two.

Standing under the heated water she thinks the one thought she’s been trying her best not too, lest she drag up the desperation she's been trying not to feel. How the rumble of his purr would feel pressed up against her. And its really the only thing she think about for the rest of the night.

And tries to ignore the rising fear that creeps back in every time she thinks of him. She's no closer to finding him than she was yesterday.

-X-

Its two days later when there’s a polite knock on her front door that turns her world upside down. Because standing on the other side of the door is her Alpha. Her terrified, alert Alpha. Who looks half out of his mind and ready to take her and run. Her first thought is what has him so terrified. Her second is who hurt him. And the third is how the fuck he found her when she couldn't even find him.

She’s stunned. Glued to her spot and it looks like he is as well. Neither of them is about to move anytime soon, which is when she becomes aware that they’re not alone. Standing not too far away from him leaning on the other side of the hall is the eloquent man she ran into in the shop all but 3 days ago.

Grace can’t say that she’s smart. In fact, she’s a bit of an idiot. Which is probably how she’s managed to land herself into this situation. But the first thing she does after being startled out of the daze she was in, is to step back and close the door. And then to immediately open it back up again to her Alpha’s wide startled eyes and her instincts screaming at her. Taking multiple deep breathes to try and calm her erratic heartbeat and heavy breathing (and to breathe in the scent of him because he's right there), she does her best to calm down. Even though she is nowhere near calm, she attempts a smile. He tries to smile back but he is still somewhat startled, and it looks more like he has done it out of automatic instinct than actual will.

“Hi-” She starts, and he jumps not expecting it. “I’m Grace, would you like to come in?”

A real smile spreads across his face this time and he looks beautiful.

“It’s very nice to meet you Grace. My name is Noctis.” Oh god, his voice was just as smooth as she remembered it. She moved to the side and made room for him to come into her home. She looked over at his companion after he had made her way into her home to see if he would be joining them. But he seemed to be in his own world with his attention fixated on a book that he must have brought with him. Leaning against the wall of the hall she decided to leave him to his own devices, it was probably best that this was done between just the two of them.

Taking a deep breath, she turned around and closed the door and tried to prepare herself for the conversation that was about to follow. Looking up she saw her Alpa- Noctis! She saw Noctis standing uncertainly in the middle of her living room. Taking another deep breath and inhaling more of his scent, Grace sent a quick prayer to her Gods for strength and hoped that they were listening. She was going to need it.

[assclass-stories]

Henlo! You probs know me as handy dandy headcanons XD butttttt is it okay to request some HazamaxTerasaka? I know it’s a bit rare but I love the ship! Maybe a bit of angst and fluff if that’s okay too! Thanks!! Love your blog <3

Ooo, no one's requested this pair before *squee*

---

"So...that's it?"

Kirara turned around to blatantly stare at Terasaka. "Yes."

High school wasn't meant to end like this, apparently. Middle school wasn't supposed to end like this either, and it hadn't. Terasaka had made sure of that. But he had only postponed the inevitable.

"You're looking at me like I'm postponing the inevitable."

"No." She said, rather pointedly. She turned back around to look away from Terasaka and out her bedroom window instead. The moon wasn't full (it hadn't been for a long time, of course), but Kirara still wished it was. She hadn't seen a full moon in...years?

Terasaka shifted in the cheap foldout chair behind her. He seemed determined not to stand up and leave, despite the fact that everyone else had gone, and they may as well have left for good. Itona, Yoshida, Muramatsu. All gone home, ready to go home. Kirara was ready to go home, too, metaphorically. But Terasaka clearly was not.

She turned around and leaned on her windowsill, facing him. She believed herself to be the most elegant this way, her bony frame set against the cool, dark wood, her fritzy, ebony hair highlighted in the crescent moonlight. She eyed him carefully. “You should go home. It’s late.”

“You’ve never had an issue staying up late with me.” He said flatly. His entire body was still; he clearly had no intention of moving up from the chair.

Kirara responded with an even slice. “It’s been a long day for all of us. That’s why you should leave.” It wasn’t a lie - they all had just graduated from high school earlier that day. The ceremony had been drawn out and exhausting. But it was the end. The end of here. Their lives here.

“Longer than in middle school? Training all day meant long days...” He shrugged. “All five of us were up late, always.”

“Terasaka.”

At her tone, his eyebrows furrowed irritably. “What?” He stood up now, struggling a little from the sag of the foldout chair. “You kicking me out?”

“Yes.” She sighed out, her patience thinning. “I am. Quit pouting about it.” She knew, however, what the message was underneath his words.

Are you kicking me out of your life, too?

Terasaka, even though he would never have admitted it, really appreciated the dynamic that his middle school clique had provided. Especially with the addition of Itona - it had always felt like a true and proper gang. The five of them stuck to each other a lot, especially during the last few months of assassination. Kirara had to admit, of course, that she had appreciated it too. It had been nice to feel wanted, to be a part of such an eclectic group. She had always felt like the beast-master in her little quintet, driving the circus. A necessary cog in the machine. But now?

Now, it was high school - past high school, really, considering they had just graduated that day. The five of them were all pursuing different things - Itona, Yoshida, and Muramatsu all at least were studying business together, taking over their families’ respected enterprises, but she and Terasaka were a different case - completely at odds, committed to riding life in different directions.

It was certainly strange for the two of them. They had been circling each other for years, tension in their relationship had been inevitable. They had butt heads more times than Kirara could count. Even through that, sometimes they had gotten closer because of those times. But she had always been able to look past it. She was his friend, and he had always been someone she never minded looking after. And having thought about a new field of that relationship more than once, she could safely say that she was fine not pursuing it.

But as she gazed at him now, with his hands in loose fists and his face slightly pink with embarrassment, Kirara knew that he wasn’t fine it leaving this to rest. Not just her - their friendship, his friendship with the others. None of it.

“What are you afraid of, Terasaka?” She murmured, fixing him with a stare that she hoped he wouldn’t try to escape from.

Terasaka held a brief face that looked caught in the headlights, but then he toned it down to a frown. “Nothing.” He muttered, turning away from her and suddenly becoming interested in her bookshelf- rather ornate as it was, it had hardly caught his interest before. Kirara rolled her eyes, deciding to just get to the point. This was taking too long.

“If this is about you feeling lonely, I’m too tired to deal with it right now. Just go home.”

Terasaka snapped his head back, fixing her with an angry stare. “I’m not lonely, idiot! I just...” His words edged off. He wasn’t at a loss, he was hesitant. “I really don’t want to leave it here.”

Kirara sighed. “Leave what? This group? High school?”

“You know what! Us!”

Kirara was caught mildly by surprise, stepping forward to stop leaning on the windowsill. “Us? The two of us?”

“Yes.” He seethed out. “Me and you. I-” He bit his lip. Kirara hadn’t noticed until now how flushed his face was. “I don’t know...I always felt we should’ve been closer.”

In the back of her mind, Kirara thought she knew what he was hinting at, but she shoved that idea back down. “We’ve been good friends for years.” She muttered.

“Good friends? Is that it?” Terasaka furrowed his eyebrows, looking more confused than upset, and he seemed to retreat back into his own head. “Even after all that? Back in middle school...with the octopus...”

Kirara tilted her head, speaking in a more gentle tone. “I understand, Terasaka. Honestly, we...” She glanced off to the side. “That year put us through more than any group of friends would have normally gone through in their last year of middle school. It brought the entire class closer together.”

“I thought it would’ve brought the two of us closer together too.”

Something about the way he said it brought a sharp flash to Kirara’s mind. All of the thoughts she had been dancing around jumped to the surface, and she stared at him, eyes wide. “You mean-”

“All this time.” Terasaka grit out. “I’ve always liked you.”

Time froze. Kirara’s memory spun back, through pages and pages of memories. Memories of pranks, of studying, memories of fights, of heart-to heart talks, of assassination. The album of reminisce screeched to a halt when she remembered Valentine’s Day, that year. She had given them Valentine’s Day chocolates- all 4 of them; Itona, Yoshida, Muramatsu- but all she had been wanting was for Terasaka to accept them graciously. Because she had liked him then. Yes, this- this bonehead, this guy, potentially the worst assassin in that class. But he had rejected it, throwing the box back to her.

“I-I- thought- I thought you didn’t like me!” She spluttered, gripping the bed knob of her brass-framed twin bed. “I liked you too, idiot! But you-“

“Rejected you, yeah.” Terasaka shrugged. He was pink, red really, staring at the ground. “I- I never thought it would happen. And when it suddenly did I panicked. I realized I wasn’t sure.”

Kirara laughed dryly. “Too freaky for you, then?”

“No! That’s the thing!” Terasaka spat, almost too sharp for Kirara’s liking. “You’ve always been smarter, more perceptive. You’ve always been graceful, cunning- I- I don’t know, these are more artsy words than I’ve ever used-” He paused, stopping to breathe. “I was always afraid of putting myself out there. I liked you, Hazama. And I was dumb for never telling you.”

Kirara stepped forward, closer to him. “I’m sorry I never knew.” She said, sincerely. She reached forward with a pale hand, taking his chin gently and lifting his head up to face her.

Before she could speak, though, he spoke, quietly, rushing. “And- now it’s too late. Now we’re going- college is what we need to do now- who knows if we’ll ever-?”

He didn’t finish, because Kirara suddenly swooped forward and planted a kiss on his lips. It was quick, barely a peck, but Terasaka still blushed beet red at the very un-Kirara-like gesture. Kirara herself was shocked by it as well, pulling back and covering her mouth with two fingers.

Suddenly pulling himself together, Terasaka took several alarmed steps back. “Augh, what the HELL Hazama!”

Kirara blinked. “I’m not sure where that came from, sorry-”

“Sorry is right!” He grumbled loudly, flopping down on the bed and rubbing his temples. “You can’t catch me by surprise like that, idiot...”

“You’re the idiot here. Keeping your feelings hidden for years...” She narrowed her eyes, leaning forward and flicking him on the forehead. He barely flinched- to her subdued surprise, he cracked a grin.

“I deserve that, don’t I.”

Kirara blushed and she sat down next to him on the bed. They sat in silence for awhile, Terasaka gathering his thoughts and Kirara staring out the window at the moon, in its cracking crescent. She knew Koro-Sensei was long gone. Even still, this...wouldn’t have happened without the assassination classroom. How far has Koro-Sensei’s legacy reached? This far into the future... She supposed that was only to be expected.

Terasaka suddenly took her head and leaned it on his shoulder. Like the kiss, it was a brief gesture, but nonetheless a gesture of closeness.

Kirara smiled to herself, not taking her eyes off the moon. “I think it’ll be okay, Ryouma.”

“Mhm.”

———

Thanks for the ask! Sorry it took so long eeeeuuhh >~>

[nightglider124]

RobStar Week 2019: Day 3

Again... Dunno how I feel about this one. I liked the idea but idk about the execution but hope ya still get robstar feels from it XD

_____________________________________________________________

Lost

Rumbles reverberated through the sky before it ricocheted into the ground beneath them; shaking the entirety of the vehicle they sought refuge in. 

Flashes of pure white lit up the sky like paint hurled at a dark canvas; streaks of lightning darting across the blackness before they faded into nothingness again, just biding their time and waiting for the chance to reappear, an invitation that thunder would inevitably offer. 

Claps of thunder shook the Earth, catching everyone and everything off guard; choosing the time to strike wisely and with precision.

The streets and the roads were empty both of cars and people; no one dared to be out in this storm if they could help it. 

Puddles and flooding were beginning to form in any nook or cranny that the rain could find, seeping in wherever the cracks in foundations happened to be. The rain was relentless, pelting anything in its path without so much as a second thought; the watery beating that nature was taking was more than enough.

But, the storm raged on and seemed to be growing worse by the minute, refusing to be swayed or placated. 

The sleek black car slowly continued to make its way down the winding dirt roads, slipping and sliding where the mud beneath the tires was beginning to give in to the onslaught of rain. 

Glancing through the steamed up glass of the passenger side, the red headed woman sighed, “I am beginning to think you should have listened to me when I mentioned the left turn approximately a mile back, Richard.”

“Star, please. I’ve made the journey to and from Gotham so many times, I could do it blindfolded. I know where we are and where we’re going.” He snipped back, gripping the steering wheel with an iron hold,

Starfire furrowed her brows and turned to him, glaring at him with as much irritation as the warrior Princess could muster, given the way the storm beyond the car troubled her.

“And when was the last time the weather did this during one of these ‘journeys’?” She retorted, folding her arms over her chest,

Robin exhaled noisily, his eyes focused on the window wipers, waving back and forth at them as they continuously tried and failed to clear the windscreen of rain and dirt. He briefly peered up at the rear view mirror to check for any speeding vehicles behind them before he settled on watching the hazy road ahead of them.

They’d been visiting Gotham the past weekend in order to see Bruce and Alfred but of course, they had spent their time there under the guise of Dick Grayson and Kory Anders; a ruse that they were intending to keep until they got home to the tower. The hologrammed T-Car was proving more than efficient with it’s fake paint job hiding them in plain sight. 

For a long moment, Robin found himself thanking his lucky stars that he had decided against driving up to Gotham on his motorbike. 

That would have been chaos.

“Robin, you know I rarely ever have need to doubt you.” She paused and he quietly smiled to himself, “But… right now, you must admit that we are lost.”

The smile slipped and a frown fixed itself upon his lips instead.

He opened his mouth to protest, to drag their bickering even further but he halted and sighed.

“Fine.” He grumbled, “We’re lost.”

A sudden crack of loud thunder rippled through the air, followed by lightning that clawed its way across the sky and tore the charcoal night apart, making them both jump in fright.

Starfire whimpered and bowed her head, bringing her knees up so that her feet were pressed to the leather seat. She covered her ears with her hands and hunched her shoulders, abhorring storms more than she cared to admit. 

Robin did a double take, trying to watch the road as well as making sure his girlfriend was okay.

“Star?” He murmured,

“I do not like it, Robin…” She whispered, refusing to look up.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Robin tightened his fingers around the wheel and veered off, making a wobbly turn. Starfire yelped at the sudden movement, feeling it as Robin took them off of the main road completely and pulled over onto a patch of dampened grass that was just off of what appeared to be a farmer’s field, if the fencing and trespassing notices were anything to go by. 

The car shuddered and groaned until it stopped, with only the low hum of the engine being audible. 

Starfire slowly lifted her head and her green eyes darted around, looking out of the passenger window to see what had happened.

“What are you doing?” She asked,

“There’s no point in us driving around in circles. I don’t know how to navigate in this weather and-” 

Starfire cut him off with a shy tone, “I… I could take to the skies to try and-”

“No.”

She tilted her head, “My people are most-”

“Resilient in hostile conditions, I know. But, I’m not risking it. You’re terrified of storms as it is and I think we both remember what happened back in Russia, don’t we?”

Casting her mind back ever so briefly, Starfire thought back on when she chased after the monster Red Star had unknowingly created, collapsing in the snow all alone, due to fatigue.

“That was different!” She told him,

He shot her a look, an eyebrow raised, “I’m not debating it, Starfire. I don’t want you going out while it’s like this.”

Starfire huffed and sat back in the seat, idly watching the rain droplets that slithered down the pane of the glass beside her head, 

“What do you suggest then?” She queried, quietly,

He dragged a hand through his mess of ebony hair, stress tugging at the sore points of his brain, “I don’t know…” 

Glancing over at her, he eyed the silver ring she still wore on her right hand, concealing her true exotic beauty. As Kory, she was still extremely pretty but she lacked her alien luster; the glow that made her seem simply ethereal. Her hair was a duller shade of red and her skin was much paler than the orange tone it was in all its glory. 

Her eyes still had that playful twinkle to them but again; the color was diffused. They weren’t as bright nor were they quite as alluring. 

Whilst her attention was occupied on something out the window, he reached between them and laced his fingers with hers, causing her to sharply turn her head back to him.

“Hey… I’m sorry… for the arguing.” He muttered, playing with her slender fingers and brushing his fingertips against the smooth curve of her ring.

Starfire blinked before she broke out into one of her soft, serene smiles, “Do not be… I am sorry for questioning things.”

Robin chuckled and shook his head, “I’m sorry for getting us lost.”

She winked at him and grinned, “That is your fault.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and gave her knuckles a kiss to which he could hear Starfire cooing. Robin released her hand and was pleasantly surprised when she unbuckled her seat belt and leaned towards him, between the seats and gave him a gentle kiss on the mouth, heat from her fingers shooting along his nerve endings as she brushed them against his jaw. 

Starfire pulled back and sat in the car seat with her legs tucked beneath her, leaving him a tad starry eyed. She giggled and rested her cheek against the headrest, watching him and waiting for some kind of plan to hatch in that intelligent mind of his.

With a deep inhale, Robin turned the keys in the ignition and silenced the vibration of the engine so that they didn’t end up running out of gas to make matters even worse for themselves.

“I suppose… we could just wait it out.” He shrugged, unfastening his own seat belt and sitting sideways to look at Starfire.

“We could… but we may be here for a long time…” 

“I’m sure we’ll keep each other company.”

Starfire smiled before she sat up and stretched her arm out, turning the dial of the radio. At first, all they received was static; loud and crackly. But, Starfire persisted and continued wiggling the dial back and forth until she caught onto a broadcast. 

It sounded like a local radio station but they heard what sounded like an older gentleman reporting the news for the day just passed. He had a deep voice with a husky tone, one that served to calm yet intrigue. 

“And we’re looking at this here storm for another… 4 hours at least according to reports, so get comfy, folks because it looks like we’ve got some time to kill but that's alright… we’ll fill the time with some perfect chill out songs-”

“4 hours?” Robin blurted, “We’ll have to let Cyborg know we won’t be getting his baby back to him any time soon.”

Starfire nodded, “I believe he will be most unhappy.”

“Yeah… how about we don’t call him until we really have to?”

The Princess giggled and shifted so the over sized hoodie she wore, cocooned her even more than it already did.

Robin sat back, folding his arms over his chest as he scowled at the downpour of rain, still flowing and cascading over the windscreen and trickling onto the bonnet of the car.

He jerked as he felt a warm hand against his thigh before he snapped his head in Starfire’s direction,

“You will give yourself a headache if you keep frowning like that, my love.”

Relaxing his features, he held her hand and gave it a loving squeeze, “It’s just so typical that something like this would happen on our way back.”

“There is nothing we can do. As horrible as the storm is, we cannot change it.” She sighed and looked at the rain as well, “We must make the best of a bad situation.”

He smirked, “My ever positive girl.”

Starfire beamed at the statement.

Shrugging, Robin matched her position and sat sideways again, “I kind of wish we’d waited and left Gotham a bit later.”

“You were not to know.” She paused and laughed, “Besides, spending too much time with k’norfka Bruce tends to make you cranky and I do believe you were nearing that towards the end of this weekend.”

Robin chuckled, “He just… knows how to annoy me is all; knows which buttons to press.”

Nodding, Starfire gave he a reassuring squeeze since their fingers were still knotted together.

A long moment of silence followed but it was hardly one filled with discomfort. Only the pattering of rain against the roof and the occasional crash of thunder could be heard between them.

Suddenly, Robin perked up, his back straightening, “Hey, you hungry?”

Starfire glanced down at her stomach, catching the brief gurgle it made, “I believe so.”

He chuckled before he moved, shaking the car slightly with his weight shifting as it was. He reached into the back of the car where he duffel bag sat and unzipped it, reaching inside for something.

Starfire watched him, question and curiosity burning in her mind, “What are you-“

Robin finally sat back in his spot, presenting several plastic takeout containers to her with a grin, “Courtesy of Alfred.”

Her eyes flickered with apparent hunger as she clapped her hands together in delight, “Oh! Wonderful!”

“He always does this; he’ll pack up food like I’m going on a 14 day trek through the jungle.”

Starfire smirked, “Are you truly complaining?”

He winked at her, “Not right now I’m not, no.”

As they popped the lids of the containers, they discovered an assortment of snacks such as ham sandwiches, fruit, chips, chocolate as well as a few lemon bar cakes Alfred has baked that morning.

Robin sighed in appreciation, “Gotta love Alfred.” He paused and reached for the duffel bag, bringing out 2 cans of soda, “He even threw in drinks.”

“Remind me to give him the biggest hug I can when we next visit.” She muttered before sinking her teeth into one of the sandwiches from the plastic box,

Popping a couple grapes into his mouth, Robin nodded at her, “I second that.”

Starfire balanced the munched on sandwich atop of her knee, clipping the tab of the soda can back at the same time Robin did,

He grinned and held his can to her, “To Alfred for not letting us starve in poor weather conditions.”

She giggles and clinked her can against his, “To Alfred.”

With that, they both took a big swig of their drinks and started to wind down from the initial stress of the weather, deciding that actually, getting lost in a storm when they had each other and a selection of food provided by Alfred, probably wasn’t the worst situation they could have been dealt.

[spirit-of-the-void]

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 25

Author’s Notes: Sorry this one came out so late, I had some other stuff that held me up. Have some more pain.

Chapter 25

Numbness filled your entire being.

How could you even begin to process it, the feeling crawling up your spine? Staring at this man... Vergil, the culmination of every fear you held, the manifestation of your failure. He stood straight and poised, eyes sharp and brow furrowed in a stern, albeit dazed expression. Processing. You understood now, all of V’s reservations. His lies, his hidden truths, the hesitations he showed. Everything was falling into place, the pieces fitting together in a chain of despair and lies. It made you feel numb, eyes wide and staring at this person, standing in place of the one you lost.

Everything made sense now. Dante’s comment about the Yamato separating man from devil, V saying Urizen “took” something important from him, something he couldn’t live without. His desire to reach the demon, that drive to move forward without stop. It was bitterly obvious now, this truth you so desperately didn’t want to see. Each new thought made your teeth grind, the pain growing and growing inside until you felt near bursting, breath shaking and nails digging into your palms. You were a fool, an ignorant fool. And you hated yourself for it.

V and Urizen...they were pieces of one whole, different being.

Dante’s brother.

V was a piece of Dante’s brother.

The devil hunter in question was furious, staring at Vergil in shock and anger. Each breath sounded like it was sucked through his teeth, eyes sharp and jaw clenched. He looked very displeased to see his brother, that was for certain, more so than you had ever seen him. That realization only made your grief grow, clawing its way up your throat and shredding everything in its wake. The man you loved, trusted, and adored...he was gone, and in his place was a man who caused the death of so many human lives. Nothing you knew made sense anymore, none of it did. You thought you knew V, knew his intentions and his feelings. But now...you knew nothing.

Because he was part of a bigger picture, a different person.

But it didn’t stop any of it, any of the pain, the mourning, the agony. All of this had happened, things crumbling like wet paper and you still were so in love with the poet. That alone was crushing and confusing, making your head spin in circles trying to figure it all out. You loved him, you loved V so much that it was unbearable now.

Everything was unbearable now.

You were volatile, on the edge of collapse and there was nothing you could do about it but sit, shaking softly and struggling to pull yourself together. Nothing worked, nothing would work. No amount of self composure, breathing, or reasoning would remove the growing turmoil inside your body.

This is agony.

Nero looked as shocked confused as you felt, looking at the newcomer with wide eyes and chest rising in quick breaths. You all watched as Vergil turned, walking over to where V’s book lay on the Qliphoth floor, now just a forgotten reminder of who had it before. You jolted, hands trembling when he bent down, picking it up with careful fingers. You didn’t want him to touch it, he shouldn’t be touching it. That book belonged in V’s hands, his voice murmuring the gentle lines of William Blake’s poetry. You could feel it now, creeping into the tangled mess of emotion in your mind, that one thing you hadn’t felt so potently in a long...long time.

Fury.

You felt it worming its way into your skull, only slightly. The faintest hints of rage, carried on a cold breeze and mingling with the other terrible things inside, becoming acquainted. How could this have happened, how could V do this to you? Was...any of it really? The love, the affections, his kind words...or was it all just a tool to keep moving forward, your energy his only means of getting back to Urizen?

You didn’t want to doubt, not like this. Not now, when things were bad enough. But it existed there, in your mind, wrapping around you like a forceful embrace. To be used and abused for so long, and now discovering the person you loved may have done the same...it was shattering, something you didn’t want to accept. It couldn’t be true, could it? You thought you knew that wasn’t the case, but what the hell did you know anymore. All this situation proved was that you knew nothing.

Dante was the first to speak into the silence stretching in the air, finding his voice much easier than you. Hell, there was nothing in your mind you could formulate into a sentence at that moment that made sense. The devil hunter was on a mission, one that was much clearer than yours now, and his tone definitely showed it. Filled with a low warning, growing in intensity as he regarded the tall, surly-looking male before him.

“Ya got some pretty big cojones for comin’ back,” He growled, eyes narrowing a second before he startled sprinting at his brother, voice growing louder as he raised his sword for an attack, “Just don’t know when to give up, do ya?!”

You felt yourself tense up, not sure how the other male would respond to such a head on assault from Dante. It was far too sloppy, even for him. His mind wasn’t in the right place, not with everything going on.

Vergil was not fazed.

You watched, that hollow ache in your chest growing when Vergil twitched, easily blocking the hit with a flick of his Yamato. He flipped it around in a precise movement, sending the sword’s sheath hard into Dante’s stomach. It happened so fast, almost elegant in his movements. Even when Dante took the object and hurled it right back. It slid onto the sword once more, pushing Vergil back with a low grunt and a dark glare. What a look he wore, annoyance now tracing the lines of his brow and mouth, those eyes glinting in disdain. You couldn’t understand it, how V came from this person, or why.

Nothing made sense.

Dante fell back, looking frustrated and panting heavily as he shook off the blow. You saw him lock gazes with Nero, a snarl passing over his lips as he started forward again.

“Get out of my way, Nero!” He shouted, despite the fact that Nero wasn’t making any movements to stop him.

But the boy stepped back, closer to your side as he watched everything unfold in absolute perplexion. You couldn’t blame him, especially considering you didn’t have the faintest idea of how to process anything you were feeling. How were you supposed to stand, to feel, to recover? Your throat felt raw and dry, body cold and on the verge of shivering. You still weren’t over what happened, what your Deity had done to you. It was a breach of your trust, one that was invasive and wrong and...so many things, too many things to pick apart. It left you feeling violated, betrayed--the one person who had guided you for so long just forcibly held you down and made you watch your world collapse. What were you supposed to do?

Nero glanced down at you, seeing the absolute vulnerability in your expression without fail this time. You felt him wrap an arm around your waist, making you jolt a little bit in surprise as you finally gazed up at him. He looked concerned for you, guilt and sadness in his expression as he took in all the grief in yours. There was no doubt Nero knew exactly what you were feeling in that moment, and he didn’t know what to do.

He pulled you to your feet, helping to keep you steady as the men continued their little spat. You flickered your eyes back to them, watching in shock as Vergil practically teleported into Dante’s next attack, the loud clang of metal on metal echoing in the room. You took another step back, stumbling a bit but held up by Nero’s arm. What the hell were they doing? What did this little fight solve? They were in a test of strengths now, sword against sword and creating sparks in their wake. Dante was anger, hot and stubborn whereas Vergil was cold, calm and poised. Polar opposites, like a cat and a dog.

It shocked you when Vergil spoke, his voice sending a jolt of trepidation down your body where it settled in your stomach, making you sick. That was not the voice of V, not even close. His tone, honeyed and warm like a caress. And Vergil’s…

Cold, higher in pitch and completely incomparable.

“Defeating you like this...has no meaning.” He stated, lips curling into something akin to a smile and eyes glinting with the light from their swords.

But Dante wasn’t going to let up. He was straining, small grunts leaving his lips and shoulder muscles twitching in his attempt to push back against his brother’s advance.

“Come on Vergil,” He rumbled, tone low and filled with stubborn determination, “Let’s do this!”

But...why? Why did they need to fight? You didn’t understand. It was like the air around them was charged, two energies clashing and making your hair stand on end. You didn’t like the sensation, especially not the one Vergil brought with him.

Please. I just want V back.

I don’t understand. I don’t understand anything.

“Heal your wounds, Dante. Get strong,” Vergil replied to his brother’s commands, looking far more calm and steady. Devoid of an emotion but smug, cold satisfaction, “After that, we’ll settle the matter.”

He whipped the sheath of the Yamato around, knocking Dante’s legs out from under him as he brought the sword itself down. Steel clanged against each other, sending up another cloud of sparks. Dante blocked the attack, the force sending him sprawling back into an ungraceful slide. Frustration made its home in the demon hunter’s expression, the man staring incredulously at his brother like what he said was the opposite of what he expected. You didn’t know what bad blood the two shared, or why. Years of conflict had to lead to this moment, bitterness running deep in their veins and harsh words seeming to be the only thing they could spout.

You lifted your gaze, watching as Vergil left his fighting stance. He lifted his sword, turning his back on the three to slash an x into the air--glowing indigo lines formed where he did, leaking an ethereal smoke. What in the world was he doing? Your shoulders started trembling again, the Void power setting into a dangerous, warning swirl with how your emotions were beating against the walls of your head. This man hadn’t once looked into your eyes, acknowledged you, or showed any sign of noticing you there at all. There was so much you wanted to say, to ask, but your body seemed locked in that location, frozen by indecision.

V is a part of this man, he who is nothing like the man you love.

Please, I’m so lost. I don’t know what to do.

You watched as the lines he cut opened, revealing a dark, ominous purple of a swirling portal. It clicked with you immediately that he was intending to make his leave, that sword serving as a means to move between spaces--there was a lot that the Yamato could do that you didn’t understand. Lips parted, you tried to say something, whatever would ease the ache even a little bit. But your tongue was practically frozen to the roof of your mouth. Did you have any right to say anything, to ask anything? So much of this felt wrong, like it wasn’t real.

Vergil took a single step toward the portal he created, pausing briefly to turn his head. You saw his lips part, face shifting from the smug, coldness to something much more calm. What was he doing? He looked over his shoulder at the boy next to you, his expression calm and neutral.

“Thank you, Nero.” He stated simply, meeting Nero’s confused gaze for a brief moment.

Before his eyes shifted ever so slightly to you.

You didn’t know what to expect--maybe recognition, or guilt, or some sign of your poet being inside this stranger you didn’t know. You couldn't imagine what he would see in your face, maybe vulnerability, hurt, and despair. But...that didn’t matter, and you received no such thing from this man. His expression didn’t shift, showing no sign of anything as his grayish-blue perception graced your face. And that was all he spared...a single passing glance, no words, no explanations...nothing. He turned in the next instant, not acknowledging you in any other way as he took another step into the portal, intending to enter it and be on his merry way.

The emotions inside you broke, coiling tighter and tighter until they snapped like a cheap rubber band.

It was all too much. It overwhelmed you, every barrier shattering under the weight of your pain, despair, and anger. So much anger. You couldn’t control your body, and you could scarcely care.

You don’t get to do that to me.

You don’t get to just come into people’s lives and hurt them.

You don’t get to walk away.

Thousands of tendrils snapped out of your form in an instant, sending Nero sprawling back as your launched forward, so fast a crack whipped out into the air. Your Void power raged inside, spiking out in all directions with your volatile emotions and mixing with the fierce, roaring agony of your Foresight. Stop Stop Stop! Your ability was screaming at you, pounding against you in waves that told you this action was by far the worst you could do, something that would have negative effects. But you didn’t care. You couldn’t care. This pain was of little consequence, your mind in a frenzy far too great to stop yourself anymore.

You would take this pain, and turn it into power.

None of the three men expected your attack. Vergil only turned at the sound you released, barely managing to lift his katana in enough time to block himself.

You slammed into him, tendrils lashing out in all directions like uncontrollable whips as you pressed against the sheath of the sword, pinning Vergil to the ground. The impact was so hard it cracked the floor beneath him, a grunt escaping his lips. Had it been a normal human, you could have broken his back doing that. But Vergil was no garden variety, every day human being. The portal behind him was mere inches away, the swirling, ominous purple illuminating you both in this struggle, locked in your own contest of strength.

He had the good graces to look surprised--he was gritting his teeth, shocked emotions flashing briefly in his eyes before being replaced by cold disdain. You were panting, eyes black and hair raising with the crackling, burning energy flickering over your skin. No more, no more holding back, no more biting your tongue. You had enough of these games, of the lies, of the pain. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair. You tried so hard, sacrificed so much only to be the only left aching in the end.

I gave everything only to be treated like nothing again.

The thought alone made your power spike, nausea rising in your stomach and leaving you with the taste of whale oil in your mouth. You heard Dante and Nero gasp, watching as your power display grew, tendrils turning an inky black and slamming into every available surface they could find. You were out of control, you couldn't stop. Not anymore.

“Y/N!” Dante yelled, trying to run at you but fifty tendrils whipped out, knocking against his sword and sending him flying back. You didn’t even look at him, eyes locked on Vergil’s as you gripped the Yamato’s sheath, the claws of your gauntlet digging in. Each breath was like ice, the cold chilling you all the way to your fingertips. Where the black, sharp claws cut in dark crystal started to form, slowly spreading over the sheath.

I don’t care. I don’t care I don’t care.

I cared too much.

“You…!” Your voice was a raw hiss, vibrating with your power as tendril after tendril slammed into his sheath, “You don’t just get to do that…!”

Vergil let out a low grunt, glaring hard at you and pressing the heel of his boot against your stomach, trying to peel you off. If he thought that measly pain would stop you, he was gravely mistaken.

You don’t get to just make me love you then take everything.

“Foolishness.” Vergil ground out from between his teeth, not breaking his gaze with you and shoving the Katana back hard. More tendrils slammed down, holding you in place and refusing to budge. More and more, slamming into the ground, walls, ceiling. It was so loud, everything was so loud and chaotic but you couldn’t muster an ounce of caring. It hurt, everything hurt so much.

You hurt me.

The howl of the Void started to grow around you, filling this room of the Qliphoth until you felt like you were back in the Void. For every movement you made, the pain only grew in spades. It grew and grew until you felt like you were on fire, choking back a hoarse scream of agony and swallowing it whole. You refused to yield, not now. Not when everything was so raw, painful.

“You don’t get to just hurt people and walk away like its nothing…!” You snarled in his face, hands trembling as you pushed and pushed your power to the limit. You were starting to exert, finally after all this time. No longer replying on the rune to save you, “Where is he?! Where is V?!”

You are not him. There is no way someone like him can be inside someone like you.

There must be a mistake, or a lie.

Vergil narrowed his eyes at your words, lips curling in a snarl of disdain. You thought you saw something flicker in his eyes, taking in your trembling form above him, but it was gone too fast to identify it.

Your power was growing out of control, the strain of using so much energy making black veins appear under your skin. You shuddered, fighting the urge to retch as more whale oil bubbled into your throat.

I won’t stop. I won’t. I don’t care anymore.

“If you were wise, you would back down now,” Vergil hissed, fingers gripping the sheath of his sword so hard you heard the material groan under the strain, “This doesn’t concern you.”

His words made you suck in a breath, blood boiling further and sharp breaths leaving your parted lips. He didn’t get to just do that, to disregard everything you had done and all that you felt. Was there no hint of V in this man? No memory of you, of what you shared? The thought of every trace of your poet being lost made you want to scream, to destroy more, to fight until you were a husk on the ground with no power left. You were crumbling, unable to hold anything back and unable to stop.

The Void energy snapped out from your body, creating fissures along the ground where rats began to materialize around you. It was an ability you knew was available, but you never used it. Not once. Even now, it wasn’t happening by choice--you couldn’t control yourself, the energy wildly lashing out in whatever way it could. You heard Dante and Nero let out noises of shock and alarm, unable to make heads or tails of what was happening around you.

You were coming undone.

“Why?” You whispered to the man beneath you, eyes filled with every ounce of pain you felt as you stared at his cold face, “Just tell me why…!”

Just tell me something.

Anything.

But Vergil had no explanations to give you. He sucked in a breath, releasing it in a sharp huff and narrowing his eyes on your face. A low growl rumbled in his chest, filled with warning as he still refused to break contact with your eyes. Somehow...that was even worse. To have no guilt, no shame, no remorse. To have nothing.

But something was there, a knowing look in those icy orbs as he took in your condition. You couldn’t imagine what you looked like.

“Stand down now.” He commanded, tone still a low growl as he pressed back harder and harder. He tilted his head, leaning his face closer to yours as the sheath pressed against your heaving chest. You didn’t quite know what you expected him to say. Maybe more commands for you to back off, something condescending or rude. But what came out of his mouth hit you like a blow to the chest.

“You know as well as I that you don’t have the energy to take me…Sparrow.”

Your eyes flew open in shock, every part of you coming to a startling halt at that nickname uttered on his lips. Vulnerability hit you like a freight train, all concentration lost and brain scrambling in pain and grief. No no no...he didn’t get to just do that, to say that. He didn’t get to just fucking do that...!

He knew.

He knew what V called you.

Your poet had uttered that name, spoken in soft, adoring tones and hushed lips. While making love, while sharing a kiss and while baring his soul to you. Hearing Vergil say it to you now…

It broke you.

The male took advantage of your vulnerability, snapping the katana up and sending you flying back. You choked on your yelp of pain, tendrils too unstable to break your fall or help you. They disappeared the instant your rage broke, turning into black crystal and snapping off from your velocity. It hurt, it hurt so much it was unbearable--both from your emotional distress and the backlash of the Void.

Exerting yourself so much and  fighting against the Foresight to that extend had wrecked your body. The nausea was unbearable, limbs barely able to move and breaths feeling like ice whenever you wheezed in. When was the last time you had exerted like this, to a point so terrible you felt on the verge of collapse?

Nero leapt to your aid, cushioning your fall and catching you so there was no impact. He skidded, a huff of air leaving his chest as he came to a halt, holding your limp form. The instant you were no longer in motion, you stopped being able to hold back the bile. You doubled over, retching up whale oil that splattered onto the ground near your feet. Disgusting, unbearably so. The neon blue glow was a stark contrast on the dark, bloody red of the Qliphoth flesh. You breathed shakily, slumping in Nero’s grasp and pressing a hand to your mouth. It was too much, it was too much to handle anymore.

Nero was panicking, that much you could tell. He held you up entirely, metal arm firm around your waist and the other at your shoulders.

“Y/N…!” He gasped, settling on one knee to hold you up, “You need to stop…! Your body can’t take much more of this…!”

You didn’t care. You couldn’t.

You wearily lifted your gaze, just in enough time to see Vergil slip the Yamato back into the sheath. He looked no worse for wear, body showing no sign of being hurt by your tendrils. You started to tremble again, the sensations heightened by the name he dared to call you, one that was so unbelievably painful. How dare he do that, how dare he take something that mattered so much and fling it at you in disdain? Had Nero not been holding you back, you would have bolted at him again, hands shaking with the desire of it.

He didn’t say anything more. He merely turned, clicking his tongue once before finally stepping into the portal he had formed. Leaving. Heaving gasps left you, teeth clenching as you watched the purple swallow him, the space closing as soon as he was out of sight and leaving no trace of the man who hurt you so terribly. You realized a bit belatedly that the book V owned was now gone--Vergil had taken it with him. Something about that only served to make things worse, the anger pounding harder and louder on your skull. A skull that was already throbbing in pain.

I can’t take this anymore.

Nero was panting behind you, body forcing you to turn so he could look at you now that Vergil was gone. You couldn’t meet his gaze, unable to lift your head at all now that the fight was draining, leaving numbness again. What were you supposed to do, to feel? Two people in your life that you trusted, that you thought cared about you had betrayed you within the same time span of each other. Who could you trust now?

You can’t think like that. You can’t.

You can’t let them take more.

“Are you alright?” Nero asked quietly, brow furrowed with concern as he put his hands on your shoulders. You could even feel Dante looking at you, carefully walking over from where he stood.

You were far from okay, vulnerability playing on the edges of your mind and mingling with the despair and heartbreak. But no amount of wording or explaining would convey that.

“...No,” You whispered, wiping the whale oil from your mouth with the back of your hand. Your voice sounded unfamiliar even to you, tired and broken as you continued quietly, “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Nero’s hands squeezed you, offering comfort in any way he could. Honestly what could he say? Nothing could make up for what had happened, and no words would soothe the turmoil inside.

Still, he spoke, tone softer and more regretful than you had ever heard it, “ God damn it...I’m sorry, kid. We’ll figure shit out, we’ll…” He trailed off, struggling to find the words to articulate his thoughts. You were grateful he was at least trying, at the moment he was all you had in way of comfort. You missed V, the betrayal and hurt so heavy you felt like drowning. And worse...you missed Griffon, Shadow, and Nightmare. What had happened to them, where had they gone? Losing them on top of losing V was...devastating.

You wanted them back so bad you could cry.

Dante said nothing to you, but his eyes were on your face. You could feel it. You didn’t want to know what the devil hunter thought of you, how this affected him too. You had feelings for V, which was apparently a part of his brother, the very same brother whose other half tried to kill everyone more than once. You knew nothing of the circumstances between the two, but judging by his previous words Vergil had been less than kind to him in the past. Why beat around the bush? You were passionate with V, devoted, deeply in love with him. And now none of him remained.

“You both should get out of here,” Dante sighed, turning away and making both you and Nero look up to see him start walking away, “Get back to the van, I’ll handle things from here.”

Nero did not like that one bit, and neither than you.

He stood, moving toward Dante faster than you could will your legs to move. Especially with how weak you were.

“Wait just a second…!” He snapped, annoyance peppering his tone as he jogged to catch up with Dante, “If that’s your brother, what happened to V?!”

He still didn’t realize yet, still hadn’t connected the dots. You felt like you were about to collapse, standing on wobbly legs and gagging at the feeling of whale oil still lingering in your throat. Disgusting, you felt absolutely trashed. Hearing Nero just say V’s name made your eyes squeeze shut, trying to hold back another rippling wave of pain. You didn’t want to hear this anymore, there was no desire in you to talk or prattle on about what happened. You were guessing Vergil went back to the top of the tree, so that’s where you intended to go.

You wouldn’t be stopped.

The Foresight in your stomach flared out again at the thought, making your teeth grind and a hand snake down to hold your abdomen. Agonizing, like being stabbed over and over from the inside. It was warning you to back off, to mind your own business. But you were far past that now.

Return home. The whispers of the Void were lingering in your ears, quiet but firm in their requests, Return to us. He demands it.

You couldn’t give a fresh fuck about what “He” demanded anymore.

“He returned,” Dante replied to Nero, making your gaze lift to tiredly stare at them both, “To himself.”

Nero squinted at the older man in confusion, eyes darting between Dane and where Vergil once stood. He still didn’t know, he didn’t understand exactly what was going on...and maybe that was for the best.

“Go home Nero,” Dante continued, walking away with a low sigh under his breath and a heaviness to his step. Limping, the fight with Vergil taking a lot of of him, “This doesn’t concern you.”

Bad choice of words, the worst ones in fact.

Nero went on the defensive in an instant, an incredulous look in his eyes as he started after Dante again, “Like hell…! I lost my right arm because of him…!”

You struggled to keep up with them, measuring your steps and pressing the heel of of your palm to your temple. God, your head was throbbing, on the verge of dizziness. You wished they would slow down.

“This is not your fight. I need to stop him, and that’s all that matters.” Dante replied simply, not turning or stopping in the slightest.

This conversation was going nowhere.

Nero only sounded more angry, his tone taking on a bitter, mocking edge as he snarls, “I’m not gonna let you have all the fun, Dante…!”

Now that got the devil hunters attention, making him turn on his heel and that calm air leaving him in an instant. Seeing him angry was jarring, a far cry from his usual lazy, bemused demeanor. You felt something begin to snap, the air growing thick with energy again. You paused when they did, sucking in a breath at the look on Dante’s face. Jaw clenched, eyes sharp and frustrated. You were a few feet away from them, trying to gather yourself and find the strength to move and go after his brother. Would they noticed if you just walked away?

You contemplated it.

“You don’t get it!” Dante snapped, leveling his sword on the ground and glaring at Nero’s face in absolute exasperation.

Nero scoffed, tone growing more and more bitter than before as he replied, “Lemme guess, I’m dead weight? You can shove that--”

“That’s not it, Nero!” Dante’s voice was growing louder, both of them were.

This argument was going somewhere, it was about to go off like a bomb, and you didn’t have the patience for it.

“What is it then?!” Nero yelled back, more forcefully than you had ever heard him, hands balled up into fists.

“He’s your father…!”

...Excuse me?

That made your thoughts halt completely in their tracks, eyes going wide and all the air halting in your lungs. If what you were feeling before was bad, this revelation was like an extra kick to the face, far more shocking than you could image it to be. Vergil...Vergil was his father? Nero’s father? Your stomach started doing flips, hands shaking and breaths starting to come short and fast. An eerie silence took up space in the air, making the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as you tilted your head, looking at Nero’s form once the realization really started settling in. This was...too much, even for you. Shocking, undeniably so.

But you couldn’t imagine what it would do to Nero.

To grow up without family, without a mother and father, only to find out now that it existed...you could practically feel his shock, the boy taking a step back away from Dante. Your need to comfort others kicked in, overriding your own shock, grief and pain for a moment as you stared worriedly at your friend. This was too much, he didn’t deserve to learn like this. His own father had ripped off his fucking arm? To be put through all that pain, forced to suffer and adapt how he did only to find out his own flesh and blood committed the atrocity?

This was why Dante was so reluctant to include Nero in anything, wasn’t it?

“...What?!” Nero hissed, breath coming shakily now as he stared at Dante’s face. You couldn’t see his expression, but you could imagine how he must have looked.

You could, however, see Dante’s.

There was regret there in his eyes, all the fight draining out of him as he lowered his head a bit. This was a secret Dante had to have been sitting on for a long time, why he was so hellbent on keeping Nero from fighting Urizen...fighting his own father. The guilt and grief that simmered within his eyes made you want to cry on Nero’s behalf, especially considering how much he looked up to Dante, wanted to help him. The devil hunter was his uncle, they were family. You could only imagine how much that hurt.

Dante was trying to protect him.

“I had a feeling, the first time I saw you, but I just wasn’t sure,” Dante replied, stepping past Nero as he spoke, recalling memories of the past and taking on a faraway look. He turned back to Nero, expression far more serious than you were used to as he added, “And then I saw how the Yamato reacted...and I was certain.”

He was referring to when Nero acquired the sword--When it absorbed into his Devil arm all those years ago, back during the conflict between them and the Order of the Sword occurred in Fortuna. You remembered Nero’s tales of the events, how he explained the sensation of taking the Yamato into himself and learning how to use it. But of course he could--he was Vergil’s kin, the sword would have been able to recognize any trace of its owner in the white haired boy. That was the first indication of what was to come, but you and Nero were lacking in too much information to see it.

“He’s your father.” Dante said quietly, tone firm and absolutely resolute. Zero hesitations.

Nero’s silence broke volumes, your ears easily picking up on the labored breathing coming from his lips. He was trying to hold himself together, he was trying to stand under the weight this information wrought.

You both had something to ache about tonight.

“Now he needs an ass-kicking,” Dante continued, patting Nero lightly on the back, “But I can’t have you go and kill your old man.”

With that...Dante seemed to be done.

He walked away again, heading out of a tunnel entrance into the room out of sight with no glances behind him. Leaving you and Nero alone, both struggling to keep yourself from falling apart under the days events. You didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to help. How could you aid Nero now, drowning and barely able to hold your head above the water? To try and save another who was drowning as well...surely you would only make it worse? It was the blind leading the blind, and you didn’t want to cause Nero any more pain.

But...you couldn’t just do nothing. Especially not when Nero turned his head, staring at where Vergil was standing before and now allowing you to see his expression. The look he wore, so vulnerable and heart-broken...it made you freeze, eyes burning with tears as you saw a little boy in him, for a moment. One who had just wanted a family, but was now forced to deal with the consequences that came with having one. He looked conflicted, confused, hurt. All the things you felt but on a completely different spectrum.

When his mouth opened, he uttered in a quiet, emotionally raw tone, “My father…?”

You moved then, unable to stop yourself.

It was probably the last thing he wanted, or needed, but the pain in his voice was just too much to bear. You limped over to him, wrapping your arms around him from behind in a hug and feeling him suck in a sharp breath at the act. There was nothing else you could do, you had nothing left. It hurt so terribly, this burden you both shared in this moment of pain. He was your friend, one of the closest you had ever had, and you couldn’t stand to see him suffer too.

You deserved better than this.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, pressing your forehead to the back of his coat as you counted his shuddering breaths, “Nero...I am sorry...You will get through this. You will.”

You must. One of us has to.

Nero didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t move away. You only felt him let out a slow breath, his head lowering as silence stretched between you both, one of his hands gripping onto your wrist and lightly squeezing. His only show of support to your actions with him not being able to speak. It was enough, just enough to let you know what was on his mind.

And it was all you could do, to stand there for a moment with your friend, offering the only comfort you could while you both tried to pick up the pieces Vergil had left in his wake.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136193/chapters/44633836

Like what you see? Consider buying me a coffee: https://ko-fi.com/E1E7GCMU

Tagged: @nightshadow4713 @silentwhispofhope @slightlylunatic @just-call-me-no-name @efiicitia @raven-huntress

[soloragoldsun]

Freezerburn Week- Day 8: Fire and Ice

The first meeting between Yang, warrior of the fire drakes, and Weiss, princess of the ice drakes, was nearly a fatal one.

It happened when the latter was patrolling the area where the territories of the stronger, more fortunate ice drakes ended, and the homes of the weaker ones began. Ice for building was harvested from further north and made the walls of the palace where Weiss’s father, the Ice Dragon, lived. It also housed several higher-ups and warriors. The lesser drakes had to settle with igloos of snow, or huts of frozen mud.

Weiss found the fire drake intruder hunched by one of the noble homes, whose owner was likely out hunting. The creature’s golden scales had been smudged with mud, likely as a disguise, and her sharp, black claws were sawing at the wall.

Snarling, Weiss charged the fire drake, tackling her into a small copse of trees. Immediately, her paws burned under the heat of her opponent’s scales.

The fire drake recoiled as if she too was being burned, slashing at Weiss’s face as she jumped back. The two circled each other, taking in the sight of the other.

Weiss was a worthy ice drake, bearing pure white scales, sharp, icicle-like spines, and eyes as cold and blue as a winter’s sky. Her teeth glinted, as did her ivory-colored claws.

Her opponent, she could now see, was likely pure gold under her mud disguise. Steam rose from her paws, which melted the snow into puddles. She had a sleeker look than the sharp ice drakes, and had black claws and curling ebony horns, as well as a triangle-tipped tail.

The two stopped circling, then dove at each other again, though the fight was excruciating for both of them. Neither could hold the other for long without feeling the burn of ice or fire driving them back. One would bite down on hard scales, only to recoil with a hiss. Another would try to get a good grip, only to yelp and lick her paw pads while backing away.

Still, neither was ready to surrender. They jumped at each other again and again, moving forward and backward, backward and forward, circling around.

It was almost like…a dance.

Something shifted in the air as Weiss realized this. She was just in the process on biting down once more on her enemy’s shoulder, but withdrew without even trying to break through the rock-hard scales this time. She tossed her head, her crest on full display in a show of dominance.

The fire drake scuffed the ground, then feinted to the side, slashing at Weiss’s flank. She too was obviously tired of being burned, because this blow only manifested in a light cuff that would have been playful under any other circumstance.

When they came together fully the next time, there was no pain. The fire drake bit down on the scruff of Weiss’s neck, her growl coming out as a low purr. Weiss’s tail, instead of lashing like a whip, came around to twine with the triangle-ended tail of her opponent. She nipped harmlessly at the fire drake’s foreleg.

The two sprang apart just as suddenly as they came together, panting with exhaustion, staring at each other with wide, confused eyes. Weiss’s crest slowly went down as she regarded the fire drake.

“What is your name?” she asked primly, trying not to sound too flustered at how easily this encounter had turned from hostile to flirtatious.

“Yang,” the fire drake replied, her tail lashing nervously. “So, what now?”

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re intruding on ice drake lands?” Weiss huffed, deciding that handling this in a to-the-point manner was the best option. “And destroying a warrior’s home?”

“I wasn’t destroying it,” Yang muttered, licking her shoulder where Weiss had managed to draw a little blood. “I just needed a piece.”

“Oh, just a piece of someone else’s home? Is that all?” Weiss drawled.

“I didn’t know where else to get some!” Yang protested. “If I’d gone further north, I’d have been swarmed.” She paused, a cocky grin spreading across her muzzle. “Though, if all ice drakes go for courting maneuvers while battling, I might be in for a fun time.”

“Oh, shut up!” Weiss snapped. “We were evenly-matched and tired. Those were weak battle moves, and nothing more!”

“If you say so.”  Yang yawned obnoxiously. “Can I go?”

“Not until you tell me why you needed a piece of ice,” Weiss insisted.

“My uncle is sick,” Yang growled impatiently. “His stomach’s hurting, and he was complaining about being too hot. Fire drakes are only too hot when we’re sick. I thought chewing on a piece of ice would help. I couldn’t carry back snow, since that would melt in my paws. I figured I could get a piece of ice and hurry back before it melted all the way.”

Weiss’s crest flattened entirely. She could see the sullen worry in the other drake’s eyes and somehow knew that she wasn’t lying. She didn’t bother asking why Yang hadn’t simply come and asked for ice. Her father had a deep hatred for the fire drakes and had an order out to kill any that intruded. Technically, Weiss was breaking the law by not actively trying to kill this one.

And yet, she could still feel a weirdly-pleasant tingle in her scales. She had engaged in courtship behaviors with a stranger, a female, and a fire drake. It was everything her father hated, which gave her every reason to be a little excited.

“I will escort you to the border,” Weiss said, keeping her voice calm. “If you stay on your side, I’ll bring you a piece of ice.”

Yang’s jaw dropped, and her tail thumped against the ground. “Wait, really? You’d do that?”

“If you stay in your territory from now on,” Weiss said firmly. “If you intrude again, I’ll be forced to attack.”

“What if I’d enjoy that?” Yang asked, a teasing glint in her eye, a sensual purr in her throat.

“Do you want the ice, or not?”

“Okay, okay. It’s a deal.” Yang grinned easily. “Thanks.” As the two started back toward the border, hiding carefully by every patch of trees and bushes they found, she spoke up again. “So, what’s your name?”

“Weiss.”

“Weiss, huh?” Yang nodded. “Well, it’s real ice to meet you.”

“I will turn around and leave you right now.”

“Aw, don’t be so cold,” Yang laughed, but she held her tongue the rest of the way there.

It didn’t take Weiss long to find a piece of ice near the palace and run back to the border. As she placed it on the ground, she was surprised when the fire drake placed a gentle paw over hers.

“Look this really means a lot,” Yang said, all joking gone from her face. “Thanks.”

Weiss felt a definite cooling sensation in her scales, especially around her muzzle. “You’re welcome.”

“So,” Yang murmured, a glint coming to her lavender eyes. “You come by the border often?”

Weiss shifted from paw to paw. “I…might.”

“Do you come around, say, at twilight? When most of the other drakes are napping for a night hunt?” Yang’s grin widened.

Weiss knew she should walk away, but she found herself saying: “I may. Depending on whether there’s anything interesting worth investigating.”

Yang nodded once, withdrawing. “See you then.” With that, she picked up the ice chunk in her talons and hurried off, water already dripping to the ground behind her.

Once the golden drake was gone, Weiss shook herself like an arctic fox shaking water from its pelt. What was that?! What did I just agree to?! Did I hit my head during that fight?!

She turned and started back toward home, her legs shaking. It would be easy enough to fix this, she supposed. All she had to do was not go anywhere near this spot at twilight. The fire drake would surely lose interest.

But she couldn’t shake the tingly feeling in her chest, or the sharp coldness that had come to her scales. She could still feel those sharp fangs and warm paws, both painful and blissful when they touched her ice-cold body. Her tail twisted and she dipped her head, letting out a low groan. Of course, she would be back by twilight the next day. Nothing would keep her away.

I just know I’m going to regret this… she thought mournfully, glancing over her shoulder at the scorched fields and volcanic rivers that she now knew as the home of the most beautiful, infuriating drake she would probably ever meet.

~

I wasn’t sure what to do for my last @freezerburn-week entry, so I pulled a fantasy AU out of the air. Hope you enjoyed it!

If you like what you see, feel free to check out my Fanfiction page and my Patreon.

Peace out!

[chocobroobsession]

Love Me Tender

Author’s Note: Eh, I can’t say that I’m all too pleased with this one. I wrote the vast majority of it months ago and never finished it until recently. After seeing the trailer for Episode Ignis, I feel a little differently towards how I think he’d handle his newfound blindness. I do believe he’d go through the fear and vulnerability, but perhaps in a different way. I don’t know. I just wanted to explore that side of him and add in smut because why not. Blind!Ignis x F!reader. NSFW. Word count: 4469.

Ignis had been back two full weeks and but had hardly come near you. Gladio had called you after that fateful day in Altissia, explaining the details of Ignis’s injury. Ignis had been too worried to call you himself, afraid that you would reject a blind man. It was a ridiculous notion, and you told him so once Gladio forced the cell phone into his hand. Even the strength of the Six couldn’t rip you from his side. You loved him and you would be there for him, come what may.

You patiently waited for the trip to come to a close, never anticipating that your king would be sucked into the crystal. Never anticipating that darkness would consume all of Eos. You hadn’t heard from Ignis and it frightened you. You burst into tears and threw yourself into his arms the moment you heard the door to your shared apartment in Lestallum swing open on its creaky hinges. After that initial embrace, however, Ignis grew increasingly distant over the course of those weeks. You knew that he was still struggling with his condition. You knew he had to battle his demons, overcome his insecurities. You didn’t want to push him or hurry him along his path, knowing that only time could heal his wounds. You gave him space while still giving him all of the love in your heart, but he grew cold towards you, and you couldn’t help but be pained.

The two of you still shared the same bed, but he didn’t wrap his arms around you the way he used to. Even if you tried to snuggle up close to him, he turned away, brushing you off. You would offer to shower with him, an activity he always enjoyed, but he preferred to bathe alone these days. The only thing he would allow you to do for him was cook, and that was only because he said he wasn’t ready to attempt that feat again. You respected the distance he placed between the two of you at first, but this was becoming too much for you to deal with.

“Ignis?” you timidly asked one evening. Not only had he avoided physical interaction with you, but he had also avoided most conversations as well.

“Yes?” he responded in an expressionless monotone.

You were so shocked that he actually responded to you that you momentarily forgot what you had planned on saying. You stood there, gaping, at a loss for words, when his annoyed response sliced through the silence.

“What do you want?” he spoke with a hint of annoyance.

“Ignis, there’s no need to get short with me,” you barely whispered, a tear starting to stream down one cheek.

His fist pounded against the nearest wall, causing you to flinch. He went from melancholy silent to rage-filled. You weren’t quite sure if you’d call that an improvement. “Just what do you want from me?” he yelled. Before you could answer, he suddenly slid down to his knees, clutching at his chest with one hand while silent tears streamed from his scarred eyes. This time he whispered, “What do you want from me?”

You rushed to his side and he flinched away from your touch at first, probably because he didn’t anticipate it, but he soon leaned into your chest as you knelt down in front of him, enveloping him in your arms. “Ignis, it’s okay. I’m here for you. I’ve got you. Whatever it is that you’re feeling—it’s valid. You’ve been through so much. Just please, say something? You’ve been pushing me away and I wanted to respect your distance, but we can’t go on like this. If you don’t want me around, just say so instead of stringing me along. I want to help you but only if you’ll allow me to.”

Ignis sobbed in your shirt and gripped you tighter, holding onto you as if he was afraid you’d disappear. You were willing to bet all of your gil that he had been holding on a strong front for Noctis and the others. Like you, he loathed appearing vulnerable. He was probably terrified and lost, and yet, he carried on as though his newfound blindness was merely a little scratch rather than a full on disability.

You barely heard his shaky voice, muffled by your shirt as he spoke, “I’m sorry. I’m just so sorry, (Y/N). I cannot do this. I cannot deal with this. I do not know how to carry on. But please, please don’t leave me.”

Your heart broke for him and you let your own tears fall into his hair as you held him close and rubbed circles into his back.“Ignis, it’s okay. Like I told you when you first told me about what happened, I’m not going anywhere. None of the Astrals could drive me away. I am in this for the long haul. I don’t understand exactly everything you’re feeling right now, and I probably never will, but please, talk to me. I can’t attempt to help if you won’t tell me.”

Ignis sniffled and sat upright, his milky right eye darting about as if he was trying to find you. You reached out to hold his hands in yours and he trained his eye on your face. “I am having a difficult time coping with my injuries. I assured everyone that these injuries were not permanent, but I knew that this was not the case. I am to remain blind for the rest of my days and while I thought I had come to terms with it, apparently I had not. I come home, unable to see you, and I nearly broke. I’ve missed you ever since I left and the thought of finally getting to see you was my driving force, but after Altissia, I realized that I would never gaze upon your smiling face again and it destroyed me. How can you be with someone who cannot even look at you and appreciate you? I cannot even cook anymore and yet, I was always the one to cook for us. I can barely get around without assistance and now that our king is gone, I don’t know what I am supposed to do. I cannot support us! I cannot contribute to us! Not gil. Not even housework. I just feel so useless.”

He hung his head in shame as the tears began falling into his lap once more. You tenderly grabbed his face in both of your hands and turned it towards your own. “Ignis Scientia. This is just a temporary setback. You are the king’s advisor. You are a master strategist. You are one of the most driven people I have ever met in all of Eos. Yes, this is a setback, but you are not down for the count. The man I know and love has never been one to give up. I know you feel like giving up right now, and that’s okay. We all feel like that sometimes. But you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you and I’ll help you get back up. I know that you can overcome these feelings of hopelessness and inadequacy. Take all the time you need. I won’t rush you. But I know you’ll find a way to carry on. “

Starved as you were for his touch, you pulled away and left him with his thoughts. This was his battle to fight, but you were ready to be at his side to assist him however you could. If he didn’t want to be near you just yet, then you were going to wait until the day he was ready. He suddenly reached out for you with one hand and you meekly asked, “What is it you want right now, Ignis?”

“To touch your face,” he answered as his hand grasped at the air, searching for you. You leaned forward, grabbing his hand and placing it against your cheek. You released him from your grip and allowed him to cup your cheek and run his thumb along your bottom lip. “I’m so sorry I’ve been so caught up in my own misery to attend to your needs.”

You managed a small smile before replying, “My needs are the least of our worries right now. I’m more concerned about you and your needs. Speaking of which, is there anything you need right now? Cup of Ebony? A hot bath? Am I allowed to do anything for you or are you going to continue to stubbornly insist on doing everything yourself?”

Ignis offered up a meek smile. “I apologize, my love. It’s just that I hate feeling helpless and I wish to try to do as much as I can myself without feeling coddled.”

“I respect that, Ignis, but it’s also alright to ask for help too, you know.”

“I know. Please be patient with me? I need to relearn how to do regular household chores without assistance before I venture onto bigger things. I’m not quite sure what those bigger things will entail, but I need to not be entirely dependent on others to live.”

“I understand. Can you please just stop switching between snapping at me and giving me the silent treatment? I don’t want to baby you, but you are allowed to ask for help.” All you really wanted was for your Ignis to be back. Yes, he was a changed man and things would be different from this moment forward, but Ignis had always been a gentleman and a wonderful lover and boyfriend, not a cold, distant shell of a man.

“My apologies, darling,” he whispered as he leaned forward to kiss you. Eager to feel him against you again, you closed the gap and met him halfway. You expected the kiss to be brief, but he soon tangled his fingers in your hair and drew you in closer. You felt a shift in his demeanor; he went from vulnerable to desperate, as though he needed to get as much of you as he could before losing you. You placed your hands on his shoulders as he moved his down your body to rest on your hips. He pushed his tongue into your mouth and you sighed at the contact, having missed his taste for what seemed like forever.

The two of you made out in silence before Ignis pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “Come to the bedroom with me?”

“Are you sure you want to do this now? Please don’t do this just because you think you have to,” you replied. As much as you yearned for his touch again, you weren’t sure if this was the right time.

“I’m positive, darling. Please?”

How could you deny his request when he said it like that? He stood up and offered you his hand. You took it and he helped you into a standing position. Never releasing you from his grip, he slowly walked the two of you to the bedroom. You had noticed his improvements in navigating the apartment without having to hold on to the walls or furniture the whole time over the course of the past two weeks, and you were pleased to see how he confidently led you to the room. He could hear you beginning to undress yourself, but he stopped you before you could remove any clothes.

“No, please, allow me to do it. I can no longer see you in the traditional sense, so please, allow me to see you the only way I know how.”

Ignis pulled you into a kiss and you closed your eyes and allowed his hands to roam all over your body, relishing the sensation. He had stopped wearing gloves ever since he returned, and you knew it was so he could feel things unobstructed. The smooth skin of his fingertips grazing the skin of your arms had you weak at the knees. You only broke apart when his hands traveled to the hem of your shirt and you stepped back so he could pull it up over your head and toss it aside. He pulled you back in and your tongues danced in harmony as he ran his hands along your back. You felt him unhook your bra and you pulled it off your shoulders without breaking apart from his kiss. Immediately his hands grabbed onto your breasts and you moaned at the contact. He massaged the flesh and tugged at your nipples with his fingers.

Ignis pulled away again, this time to unbutton his own shirt, but you placed your hands over his and pulled them away so you could do it for him. “I’m not doing you any favors, you know. If you can recall, I have always liked undressing you myself. It’s like opening the best present in all of Eos all over again,” you grinned.

Ignis let out a shaky breath. “I do recall, darling. I recall many things about you. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

You finished with the last button and pushed the garment off of his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek before whispering in his ear. “Oh, I think I can venture a guess. I’ve missed you like crazy as well.”

Ignis held your hand once more and led you over to the bed. He sat down and pulled you to sit next to him. You weren’t sure where he was going with this until he quietly asked, “Will you lie down in the middle of the bed? You may keep your pants on, if that’s alright with you.”

You were confused, but agreed to his request all the same. You lay down on the bed, and gazed at your boyfriend, who soon joined you, settling right beside you. You reached up to touch his face, right at the scar encircling his left eye, and he winced.

You quickly drew back your hand. “I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”

Ignis shook his head and felt for your hand, bringing it back up to his face. “No. I just…I don’t really know what my face looks like and so I’ve imagined how horrid it could be and I just don’t want to subject you to it. I don’t want you to feel obligated to look at it or touch it if it bothers you.”

“Oh Ignis,” you soothed. “You’re blowing things out of proportion. Would I have told you the protective shades were unnecessary in the house had I thought your scars to be hideous? My love, you’re still the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. These scars don’t change that. I just want to make sure you’re not in pain.”

You traced the scars along his face and you felt him relax and hum at the contact. Once you withdrew your hand, he placed his own hand back on your face. “Allow me to see you again, darling. Allow me to memorize every line, every curve, every inch of your skin. I need to see you.”

“Anything for you, Ignis,” you spoke, barely audible as your breath hitched in your throat. You were overcome with emotion witnessing the desperation Ignis was radiating.

He kissed you, crushing his lips into yours as he wrapped one arm around you to press your bodies together. As your lips and tongues danced, his hands roamed your body slowly, tenderly. He grazed his fingers over the side of your face, tracing from your cheek to your jaw where he pulled your face in and held it in place for a moment before moving it down to your neck where he ghosted his fingertips over the delicate skin. You felt his other hand gripping the bare skin of your back and you reciprocated, gripping his back and digging your nails ever so slightly into the exposed skin. He groaned into your mouth and continued touching you.

His hand ran along your shoulder and down your arm until he reached your hand. He ended the kiss, leaving you breathless and guided your hand up to his lips. He kissed each fingertip before kissing your palm. He then placed kisses along your wrist and back up your arm until he reached your shoulder. He lightly pushed you so you were on your back and he leaned over to start kissing your neck. A small gasp passed through your lips as his teeth made contact with your flesh. He nipped and kissed along your neck, from one side to the other, and you felt the wetness pooling between your legs as he continued on. As he kissed, he ran his hand down to cup your breasts and tug at your nipples.

Ignis then moved back up to kiss your lips and you eagerly pulled him towards you, gripping the back of his head with one hand and digging into his back with the other. You missed the feeling of his skin against yours and you didn’t want to let go. He pulled away again, turning his face towards yours. You could tell he was trying to search out anything—shape or shadow, to tell him where you were. You stared into his milky eye, hoping that he could feel your gaze. You couldn’t help but look at him in adoration. In spite of all the two of you had been through, you were deeply in love with him and you had missed him beyond reason when he left to finish his mission with Noctis. You were so in love, it nearly hurt. You thought you had lost him when Gladio called you. He sounded so down, so reluctant. You had assumed the worst and you nearly collapsed at the thought of losing Ignis, but you were ever so relieved to know he was only injured. You could deal with injuries. Not death.

“Ignis, I love you so much. More than I could ever properly describe.”

“And I love you, (Y/N). I’ve been so terrified of losing you that I have neglected you. I’ve allowed myself to wallow in my own pity and I haven’t shown you the love you deserve, but I’m here now. Allow me to show you just how much you mean to me.”

Ignis nuzzled his face against yours and you closed your eyes and smiled at the gesture, rubbing your face back into his. It reminded you briefly of how cats greet one another, but with Ignis, it was much more personal. To touch like that—to be in such close proximity. It meant he loved and trusted you. He rubbed his face against your neck and placed more kisses as he trailed down your torso, licking and kissing your skin.

Ignis adjusted himself once more so that he was leaning beside you, propped up on one elbow. You turned towards him, unsure of what he was to do next. Rather than wait to find out, you cupped his cheek in one hand and drew him in for yet another kiss. It was as though you were trying to make up for all the missed kisses in his absence over the last few months. You were lost in his taste, not noticing his other hand running down your stomach and into the top of your jeans. Your eyes shot opened as you moaned into the kiss when you felt his fingers graze your clit.

Needing no preparation, he slid his hand further south, pushing two fingers easily inside your wet sex and curling them. You bucked into his touch and he broke the kiss to chuckle against your lips as he continued pumping his fingers in and out. You let out a shaky sigh and angled your hips upwards, grinding into the heel of his palm.

“Ignis,” you whined. Another soft moan left your lips and Ignis kissed your cheek. “Ah, yes. Music to my ears. Please, darling, sing for me.”

And sing you did when he added a third finger and sped up his ministrations. “Ignis, Ignis, Ignis! Ah, that feels so wonderful!”

“Come, my darling. Come for me,” he requested, hot breath tickling your ear.

Unable to hold on any longer, you plunged over the edge, coming with a drawn out moan of his name as your back arched completely off the bed. Ignis slid his hand out of your pants and slipped his fingers into his mouth, cleaning your essence off his long digits. You lay there, breathless, your body shaking. You had denied yourself any sort of pleasure ever since hearing of the events of Altissia. You were too worried to pleasure yourself and all you wanted was for Ignis to return home to you. Finally achieving orgasm after so long had left you rather weak, but it was spectacular all the same.

Once Ignis finished lapping at his fingers, he reached over and undid your pants and began pulling the rest of your clothes off. You helped him along until they were thrown to the other side of the room. You kissed Ignis’s neck as you reached over to help him with his own pants and boxer briefs. Once they had joined yours on the floor, you wrapped your hand around his hardened cock and pumped a few times. The moans that crossed his lips were the most beautiful sounds you swore you had ever heard.

You started to push Ignis fully onto his back, intending to ride him into the mattress, but he grabbed your hand before you could push his shoulder down. He kissed along your palm and shook his head. “No, love. Allow me to take the reins.”

“But Ignis…” you started to protest.

“No, not yet. I need to do this.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me, Ignis. I know you can still dominate me just as before. You don’t need your sight to do that,” you explained.

Ignis shook his head again as he rubbed his cheek against the pack of your hand. “I know. I just want to do it like this for now. Is that alright?”

“Of course. I’ll take you any way I can get,” you let out a small breathy laugh.

You lay down on your back, your head against the pillows as Ignis moved to kneel between your spread legs. He stroked at your entrance with his fingers and you hissed at the contact. It felt as though he was taking forever to get inside you. Using one hand to guide himself, he sheathed his member completely in your dripping heat. Having not been stretched as such in so long, you threw your head back in a loud moan. Ignis sat still, his lips fixed in a concerned line.

“I’m fine, Ignis. Don’t stop. I just haven’t been filled in a while, you know? I almost forgot how incredible it felt to have you like this.”

“Let me know if anything isn’t to your liking, darling. I can no longer rely on visual cues to know how to change my course.”

“Oh I’ll let you know…” you drew out your last word as Ignis leaned forward and began pumping into you.

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed you as he slowly eased himself in and out. It felt so wonderful, you were afraid you’d come just from the initial penetration alone. Ignis fucked you at a slow, steady pace and you felt the heat rising to the surface of your cheeks. His mouth refused to leave yours, even when your nails began clawing at his muscular back. Your actions elicited a long groan and a particularly powerful thrust. You cried out in pleasure, wrapping your legs around his waist, angling yourself so that his cock hit just the right spot within you.

Ignis continued to fuck you slowly, each thrust calculated and precise. Normally, you would have begged for a quicker pace at this point, but as torturous as his rhythm seemed, it was unhinging you in the best way possible. You didn’t hold back your moans and cries of ecstasy; they seemed to only spur Ignis on. He buried his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder and bit down, causing you to cry out his name for all of Eos to hear.

He silenced you with a kiss and he picked up the pace ever so slightly. He held your hands above your head so his chest could be flush with yours. His forehead rested against your own and he could hear your breathing patterns change. You were close to orgasm and so was he. He released your hands from his own so he could prop himself back up on one elbow. You looped your arms around his neck, tugging at the hair on the back of his head, eliciting a groan from him. He drew a louder groan out of you shortly after when one hand came to toy with your clit. Not even a minute of his ministrations, and you found yourself coming again, screaming his name.

That was the only encouragement Ignis needed. He fucked you through your orgasm, picking up the pace significantly to further your pleasure and to bring himself higher.

“Ignis, come in me,” you pleaded between ragged breaths. You were close to tears, nearly unable to handle the intense pleasure that was radiating throughout your body.

Ignis groaned out your name as he finally hit that higher plane, filling you with his warm release. You continued to clench around him, milking him for all he had to offer. Once his thrusting ceased, he remained inside of you, resting his forehead against yours once more.

“Ignis, that was incredible. I guess I missed you in more ways than one,” you lightly laughed as you pecked his bottom lip.

“Darling, I’ve missed you too. I’m happy to know I can still pleasure you in spite of my handicap.”

“Hmph, don’t ever doubt yourself. You’re an amazing man who can do anything he sets his mind to. Don’t forget it. And even without your sight, nothing has changed in the bedroom department. You were worried over nothing.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” he replied as he pulled out of you slowly. Ignis settled down on the bed beside you and drew you up against his chest so he could hold you close and rest his chin against your head.

“I love you, Ignis,” you sighed into his chest.

“I love you, too,” he said as he kissed the top of your head and nuzzled his nose into your hair.

The two of you fell asleep like that, holding onto each other, legs tangled together. The next morning, Ignis even pulled you up for a shared shower. You knew it would take time, but you were prepared to stay by his side and help him overcome his situation, one day at a time.