#maybe sometimes he makes a little tornado around himself when hes flustered

[starwaffle345]

aven

[nyxs-sins]

Ceraunophile

Ceraunophile: A lover of thunder and lightning storms.

Pairing: GN!MC x Leviathan

Warnings: Intense thunderstorms, momentarily misplaced lost, fluff.

Summary: It’s the first time MC sees a thunderstorm in the Devildom, and they wanna go check it out!

Word Count: 15326

Dark clouds roll in from the north, heavy droplets of water falling from them and lightning streaking the sky.

“Wow…” MC breathes, looking out of the common room window at the oncoming storm. A shiver runs down their spine at the sound of thunder, spreading like electricity to their limbs. “It’s beautiful…”

Devildom lightning storms are nothing like the ones in the human world. The winds are stronger, wailing with the voice of tens of thousands of souls, the thunder deafening, and each lightning bolt a different color, creating a light show in the clouds.

MC finds themself smiling at the window for a moment longer before hopping up and running down the halls to the room of a demon whom they knew to love water. Maybe he loved storms as much as they did. MC’s face breaks into a grin as they stop in front of Leviathan’s room, knocking three times.

“Password?” Levi’s voice comes from the other side of the door.

“The second lord-”

“-attempted to steal the Lord of Corruption’s platypus, which could lay golden eggs-”

“-having incurred the wrath of the Lord of Corruption for his misdeed-”

“-it was ordered that the second lord would be forever dubbed The Lord of Fools.”

MC waits for a moment, wondering if Levi would let them in, when his door slowly creaked open, revealing half of his face.

“Is there something you need, MC?” Levi’s voice is unusually cold and tired. “I’m in the middle of a raid.”

“I was just wanting to know if you wanted to go see the storm with me,” MC offers. “I’m sorry for bothering you,” they add quickly, looking up at him with puppy eyes.

Levi slams his door shut, causing MC to flinch back.

“I guess that’s a no…” MC sighs, defeated. Just as they turn to walk away though, the door opens again and Levi steps out of his room, hands stuffed into his pockets and a light blush on his cheeks.

“Just so you know, we can’t go anywhere anyone will see us. I don’t want someone thinking I’m hanging out with some normie.” Levi’s eyes narrow at MC, as if challenging them to argue with him. MC simply nods in response. “Good,” Levi says, turning and heading to the door. “Grab a jacket or something, there’s something I want to show you.”

“I don’t need a jacket,” MC says, hurrying after him. They ignore his inquisitive look, instead bolting out of the door before him. Besides, if Levi isn’t going to wear any rain gear, why should they? Famous last words. MC glances up at the sky in time to see a bright blue streak flash by, closely followed by the sounds of thunder. They grin, feeling the rain drench their hair and clothes and the wind blow their hair wildly behind them. “So what is it you wanted to show me?” MC asks, turning to Levi.

Levi slowly lowers his gaze from the clouds down to MC’s face. For a moment he just stares at them, watching as water streams down their face, as they lean into the wind so they don’t lose balance.

“This way,” Levi says, turning and leading them away from the House of Lamentation, and north towards the storm.

MC skips after Leviathan, holding their arms out and spinning in the rain as they follow him through the downpour. Excitement and adrenaline course through their veins, excited and nervous to see where he is taking them.

Levi glances over his shoulder, watching in amazement as the above light show illuminates MC. They look… ethereal. When he looks back, he can’t help but smile a little. Their wonder and awe towards the storm made him happy for reasons unknown. Maybe it is because he has someone to enjoy the storms with now? Maybe it was the way they clapped when it thundered, or splashed in the puddles? Or maybe it was the gasps and squeals he can hear when they see a new color of lightning flash by? Whatever the reason, it made his heart swell with happiness.

“MC-” Levi turns to face them, stopping when he sees them squatting over a puddle. Worry grips his veins as he steps towards them. “MC?”

MC looks up at him, grinning through the rain. “Look!” They hold up a chain, and when Leviathan takes a closer look at it, he sees a shell locket attached to it. “Isn’t it pretty?” They ask, handing it to him.

Levi takes the chain and opens the locket, finding it empty. “Uh… y-yeah…” he says, handing it back to MC. “You should keep it,” he says, turning away when they beam at him. “Come on, we’re nearly there.”

MC skips up to walk next to Levi glancing up at his face. The closer they get to the storm, the stronger the winds seem to get, and the harder it is to see where they are going. A few more steps, and they can’t see anything at all.

“Levi?” MC calls through the rain, blind and suddenly scared. They love the storm, yes, but this one is different. This one is in the middle of the Devildom, a place they could get snatched and eaten and none would be the wiser. “LEVI?!” They call again, taking a step back and bumping into something hard. They whip around, heart in their throat, but relaxing when they see Levi.

“Geez, human. You get three steps ahead of me and you start freaking out.” Levi chides.

“I can’t really see in the storm.” MC explains. “The rain is coming down so hard…”

“I thought you liked the storm,” Levi’s voice is almost accusing, as he has to raise it to be heard over the wind.

“I do, I just don’t like being alone,” MC calls back, reaching a hand out to him. “Please Levi… this is nothing like in the human world.”

Levi stares at their hand for a moment before looking them in the eye. He glances back at their hand, hesitating, before finally reaching out and carefully taking their hand in his. The contact makes him shudder, and it takes all of his willpower to not pull back.

“Come on, we’re nearly there.” Levi tugs on MC’s hand, much like they tug on his heartstrings, as he leads them deeper into the storm.

At some point during their travel, Levi finds himself in his demon form, MC held tightly to his side as he manipulates the water around them to create a shield from the weather. It was as if they had their own little bubble of weather, and their clothes were drying out fast.

“Why didn’t you do that sooner?” MC asks, out of breath as they cling to Levi’s arm to keep them upright.

Levi has the audacity to look flustered. “I uh… well you see, I really like the rain and getting… wet,” his blush darkens and he mentally chides himself, “and I sort of forgot I could do that?”

“How can you forget that you can control the weather?!” MC asks, craning their neck to look up at him.

“I guess, it’s the same way you forget that you live in a house full of demons?” Levi asks, releasing them and making the bubble big enough to fit the both of them comfortably. “Come on, just a few more steps and we’ll be there.”

A few more of Leviathan’s steps, more like twenty of yours. You had forgotten how big the brothers’ demon forms are, and you have to jog to keep up with one of his steps.

“We’re here,” Levi says, stepping through a curtain of water and pulling MC through with him. On the other side is swirling water and wind, what one would imagine being inside a tornado would look like. Lightning colors the clouds, and thunder roars overhead to the point even covering their ears had no effect.

“Here,” Levi gently removes MC’s hands from their ears, using his powers to lessen the sound of the thunder for them.

MC looks around in awe, sitting down and just watching the storm swirl around them. “This… is nothing like how the storms in the human world work…”

Levi chuckles and sits beside them. “No, it’s beautiful, isn’t it? Sometimes, when I feel like it, I play with the weather around the ocean. I don’t have as much control of the weather elsewhere, but I can influence it. That’s enough.”

MC slowly looks away from the storm at Levi, waiting until his eyes meet theirs. In his eyes they can doubt, fear, worry; but their own holds only wonder.

“Levi… you’re amazing!” MC tackles him in a hug, and then quickly pulls away. They watch as he sits there, stunned, trying to process what just happened. MC chuckles and lays back, looking at the clear sky above them and listening to the winds swirling around them. “Let’s watch the storm for a while…”

[too-scared-to-do-this]

Of the Devil’s head

Chapter twelve - Lose a piece of that non-heart 

Sander’s sides fanfiction

Wordcount: 1529

Ship: prinxiety  (Get ready people.)

TW: So, a bunch of kissing - though no shirtless people this time; a little bit of for-play (Can it be called for-play if nothing really happens?), hard teasing, flirting, very subtle mentions of cruelty and something resembling suicide, though it is not exactly that, cursing (a lot) and a bunch of light-hearted backstory angst because why not? Let me know if anything else pops up :3

Summary of the whole story: They say, the one that wears the crown rules all - the living, the dead, the walking, the crawling, the rooted, the sane and the mad. They say, once you own the crown, you become the  most powerful being on Earth and beyond. Roman’s stolen bigger things - a measly little crown won’t present a problem, even if he has to steel it straight off of the devils head!

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Chapter twelve - Lose a piece of that non-heart 

Roman often tends to forget what it is like to be happy. That one little feeling that grows inside your chest, suffocating you in the best way possible until you blow up, smiling and grinning (in his case talking and twirling around like a little princes).

It’s been so long since this feeling grew out of proportion. Since he wanted to jump around and talk someone’s ears of. Wanted to sing out loud.

But right now, no matter how Roman’s body would be reacting to this much happiness in any other situation, he just pulled the Devil closer to him, grinning into the kiss.

V smiled too, leaning his forehead against the thief’s. “You seem awfully happy.” he murmured, teasingly. As if the pink on his pail cheeks and the way his non-heart was beating didn’t imply the exact same thing.

He was awfully happy. And judging by the way Roman was literally vibrating, he was as well.

“I just kissed the man of my nightmares, who wouldn’t be?” Ro grinned even wider.

Virgil couldn’t help but snort, shaking his head against the being’s.

“What? It’s not like you didn’t get lucky! Just look at me!” Ro pulled away, with Virgil still on his lap, gesturing at himself.

“I don’t think emotionally fragile and easily breakable is a think you should be proud of.”

“Hey! I’ll let you know! I’m much tougher then you think! I might just be tougher than you!”

“Oh really.” Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Let’s put that to a test, shall we…?” the dark toothy grin wasn’t nearly enough to forebode the kings next actions.

Roman didn’t even have time to blink before he was laying once again. Hands above his head, pinned to the bed.

Something snaked up his leg, circling around his thigh. Too high, he might ad… This was dangerous. Very, very dangerous…

“Now you can show me how though you really are.” the Devil’s eyes darkened, clouds circling around like small tornados. “When someone’s holding you down…” he leaned in close. Close enough that he could feal his breath on his lips. “…pinning you…”

“… what will the though thief do?” he hummed. Deep voice resonating through Roman’s whole body.

“He… am….” the human gulped. He hated how clipped his voice came out.

But Hades, did Virgil love the flustered expression Roman was wearing. He could hear his heart beating faster then light, blood rushing in his wains. See his brain failing to function. Cheeks flushed and eyes unable to leave Virgil’s lips. Roman was completely gone. Melting underneath the Devil.

“He what?” V smirked, voice dark with lust. Tail tightening around Ro’s thigh.

Roman yelped.

A very high-pitched, very restrained, very embarrassing yelp. And Virgil couldn’t take it. He fell back onto the thief’s thighs, tail uncurling, hand’s letting go, howling with laughter.

And Roman just laid there, a giant emotional mess watching the Devil with big round eyes.

“Oh Hades! Lord of the darkness! I can’t, I’m sorry.” the king stuttered out through laughter. “Don’t take it too seriously. I was just having some fun.”

“We’ll if this is the kind of fun you like to have…” the thief blinked, barely breathing.

But Virgil didn’t even hear him through the laughter. He just leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “You’re adorable when flustered, liveling.”

“Yeah yeah.” Ro rolled his eye, trying to collect his thoughts. He cleared his throat and took in the whole of his supposed captor. Apparently that thing that abused his thigh earlier was a long thin tail, similar to the wings he saw earlier. Huh… interesting.

But didn’t the Devil say- “Where are your horns?”

“What?” Virgil wiped of a tear, trying his best to calm down.

“Your horns. You said ‘tails and horns and everything’. Where are the horns?”

“Ah well… Their here.”

And suddenly, Roman was looking at two small horns poking out of V’s scalp. Barely visible from the hair. “Oh, dear Gods! They are so small!”

“Oh shut up.”

“No! You’ve got small little hornies!”

“Do you even hear yourself?”

“They suit your personality so much! Small and adorable! I just -”

Virgil sighed defeated. “Apparently not…”

His fun has ended…

-

Nobody knows how long the two didn’t come out of that room.

Well… nobody except Remi. He’s been lounging around the throne room for Hades-knows-how-long, sipping at his delicious coffee.

Souls, no souls, he wouldn’t have been working even if Virgil was around. But he wasn’t. He was off with that boy-toy off his doing dark-knows-what.

If you’d ask Remi, the king went soft. But he never really was tough to begin with…

All those years ago, when they used to go down to earth and do crazy shit nobody even dared to think of! That was the shit! Them - the duo. Tearing people in half and making buildings crumble and burn. But thinking back, even Remi knew it wasn’t Virgil’s free will talking. The former prince always looked back at the damage they caused with a sad look in his eyes. Guilt.

No, it was not him. It was Lucifer.

The former Devil was the truest meaning of the word. Remi hasn’t been here long enough to get to know him, but the twelve or so years spent with him in charge were enough. Abusive, power-hungry, mad. Nothing was ever enough for that creature.

Not his wife, Remi never got to meet. Not his son, who grew up to be too weak for the kings liking. Not Hell itself.

Remi wasn’t blind. Nor was he stupid. Lazy and bitchy, maybe, but those were his best traits! Besides for the obvious great fashion sense and awesome personality. But he was a mind reader for fuck’s sake. And Virgil’s thoughts weren’t exactly quiet.

Safe to say it was best for everyone involved when Lucifer got banned from Hell. Well, not exactly from it - they were demons, but not even they were cruel enough to unleash such a monster to the upper world. He got sent to the deepest darkest pit of Hell where no server had acces to. Not even the prince himself.

And after the immediate coronation of Virgil, the power the former Devil once had now belonged to V. Who never used it, unless necessary.

So yeah… maybe Remi did miss those times when Virgie was more fun, but he sure as Hell didn’t miss those thoughts of his swirling around in both of their heads.

Now at least it was mostly quiet.

The Devil seemed happy. Unusually so. Remi even got his fucking coffee! Who would’ve though?

He chewed on the straw of his almost empty drink. No matter what, the king was the king. And right now, he was locked away somewhere with his little Human doing dark-knows what. And Hell, if Remi wasn’t curious as to what it was!

And what it really was, was nothing.

V laid in his bed with his head on Romans chest, completely oblivious to the outside world. This was their bubble - their safe place.  Nobody could walk in without permission and nobody could take Roman away either.

He wouldn’t let them.

Maybe not that. But Virgil knew Ro would have to leave at some point. He couldn’t stay... Though he’d rather not think about that just yet.

Instead, he looked up at his liveling and watched him. Listened to the steady beet of his heart. Who knew it would be a Human thief that would end up owning his?

Hair still damp from the shower he took earlier. Eyes closed. Smiling.

Yeah… Virgil was a lucky son of a Devil. And nobody could deny that.

Father wouldn’t have approved, but mom… Mom would have loved Roman.

She herself has fallen for a mortal. Which ended up being her downfall. But she never regretted. She never coward.

Not once.

“Don’t be afraid love. It doesn’t hurt.” she said.

“But I am afraid, mommy…”

“Don’t be, my dark angel. I am not afraid.”

“How?”

“Because, when you love somebody enough, you’re not afraid to give up anything.”

Now, Virgil knew this was faulty logic. If she loved her son as much as she said she did, why didn’t she give up dying on the account of her supposed love? And why did she need to give up anything at all?

If she loved someone, shouldn’t they be kind and understanding enough to at least come to a compromise? Find some way for his mommy not to have to die?

The mortal probably was dead by now, forgetting all about his beloved mother the moment she stepped out of their life. But she didn’t…

It was faulty logic. Very stupid and faulty logic.

But somewhere deep down, he understood her…

She did love him. More then anything in the whole universe. But sometimes love isn’t enough.

And so, she perished. Erased herself from existence without a single tear ruining her perfect face. And a beautiful smile.

That’s what Virgil remembers. That smile.

And as he looked up at Roman, he saw the same one. Same peaceful, astonishing small smile lingering on the lips he was kissing just a moment ago.

So, he kissed them again. And let the realization of what he was about to do next swallow him whole.

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I don’t feel like this chapter is very consistent... But oh well. I refuse to sit on it any longer. I have a last chapter to write!

Not that I want to end this story, but I have such a juicy ending prepared I just can’t wait to write it!! ^^

Anyhow, this was a little bit of backstory before the actual end. Roman already had his, so now it was time for V’s. And that brings us to the last chapter coming soon. 

Also some more art because I feel like drawing V and all his forms. Ya know, all the forms of evil :3.

Okay XD It’s late and I’m just spewing out words now. 

As always, hope you liked the chapter! <3

Tag list:

@romano-hottopic

@vpow

@a-formless-entity

@lovelivingmydreams

@alice-only-me

[horrorslashergirl]

Alexander Chirilă SFW Alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Alexander is very reluctant and reserved when it comes to his personal space so don't expect him to kiss, hug or cuddle you out of his own free will. If you show him affection at the beginning he will be suspicious and unsure, very awkward about it. Later on, with baby steps he will be more comfortable with this, and once you gain his trust he will welcome your affection, but that is a very rare thing. The secret is to take things slowly, don't fully pull him into a surprise hug.

Once you have his full trust, he will show affection into his own way; he will cook for you delicious meals, will spend quiet time with you in the morning around nature while you two sip on tea, he will tell you about his past and advenatures, take walks with you while holding hands, which is a BIG DEAL. For him holding hands is a deep spiritual form of bonding.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Friendship is half of how the relationship starts. You need to take your time with him, observe him and understand his persona. Everything is about earning his trust, doesn't matter if you want a relationship or a friendship. You cannot force friendship on him and expect him to be accepting of you. Just get to know him. Just chatting about simple things in life, like what he likes and doesn't.... But no personal sensitive questions at first like about his family or intimate sexual questions. If you do so, he will only get embarassed, flustered and he will hide into his steel like shell and won't come out after a while. That also depends on the person.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cuddling will be something that will happen later on in the relationship or friendship, once he is comfortable with you and will aceept you into his personal bubble. He is very gentle and quiet when cuddling, maybe some small exchange of words here and there. His intimate touch is very soft and carefull, the opposite of his killing and assasination.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Alexander never was one to think about relationship, much less about settling down with someone, but once he may find that special someone, he can be very domestic. He is used to clean the whole house, cook breakfast, lunch and dinner and even attending to the garden. He is very domestic into his everyday life when not being his assassin self. If you will achieve the rarity of being his s/o you will wake up with a delicious rich breakfast, your clothes all freshly cleaned at the end of the bed. During his training with his former Master, he did all of that... Cooking, cleaning, gardening.... And he had to do them to complete Perfection.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Alexander never had a relationship in his whole life and there's no doubt he wouldn’t know how to do it. He is completly clueless at how relationship work. The only relationship that he is aware of is the Master-Pupil one.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Marriage has never been a prospect that has ever crossed Alexanders life, but if you managed to be his s/o you will have his undying devotation. He is the type to be gratefull for things such as love, that he has never crossed paths with. In his opinion a s/o is a rare treasure. Once you managed to open the steel gate to his love, he will be 100% loyal and never betray you.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically, Alexander is the most gentle guy you will ever meet. The complete opposite of his assassin way, if you are someone close to him, especially his s/o, he will treat you like the most fragile flower ever. He knows how vulnerable humans are and how easy it can be to break them so he is soft into his touching and probably reluctant about it.

As for emotionally? He is a tornado of emotions, considering his bad temper and how easily he loses his cool when teased. He is quiet and reserved but once approached anything can happen with how unstable he is. It can go so many ways; if you tease him, he might get all flustered and blushing, a shuttering mess or if you pull on his anger he will yell profanities and storm off to be alone.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Not a person to give hugs, but if you are his s/o he will welcome them, but still blush slightly. He is just not used to phsyhical affection and gets awkward about it.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

This word has always been an enigma for Alexander and he doesn't know much about this department. Don't expect him to say these words so fast. It takes time and work to manage for him to say this sentence, but once he says it, there is no going back. You better be honest about your feelings for him. If he says that he loves you he means it with every cell into his body. Don't betray his trust. He prefers a punch into the face than a knife into the back. If you hurt his feelings and break his heart, he will turn his back to you and never go back. You cannot expect to break a mirror and out it back together and still see a perfect reflection. Once he loves he loves with his full heart. He is very sensitive.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Depends on what.... He has always been jealous of his big brother for people being charmed by him, by the fact his parents choosed Decebal and not him. Jealousy will make Alexander very bitter and just sulk in silence.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Alexanders kisses are shy and inexperienced, very slow and innocent like, perhaps with a drop of curiousity. He has never kissed anyone in his life so he feels unsure of how he should take things. You will have to initiate the kisses and take the steering wheel in everything that means intimate touch with this man.

He would probably like to kiss you on the cheek; simple and without too much work, of fear that if things are more complicated he might do something wrong.

The best way to kiss Alexander and get the most satisfying reactions from him is to kiss and play with his ears. Its a very erogenous zone and just you nibbling and sucking on his earlobe can make him come undone and a red faced mess.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Surprisingly, Alexander is calm and much more patient with children than with adults. They remind of his younger self and how clueless and easy to throw around he was, so to him children are like young birds that still need time to learn to fly.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Alexander start up very early, so he can have time to do his chores; preparing breakfast, changing the bedsheets, sipping on his green tea while outside listening to the birds singing. The mornings with this man are very calm and full of tranquility, enjoying the fresh breeze in the morning that slowly fully wakes him up little by little.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Alexander loves to spend most nights, gazing at the stars before sleep, counting each costelation like counting sheeps. Most of his nights are filled by nightmares and because of where he lived, his sleep is always an agitated one. Sometimes he wishes to never sleep but he knows that the human body needs rest and to recharge himself, that's one of the reasons he counts the costelation, it helps him little by little to get sleepy.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Alexander is like a papirus in an ancient language and it takes a long time for him to reveal things about himself. He isn't an open book and defenitly not one to put everything on a silver platter. If you want to learn things about him you will have to read between the lines. He is like a jigsaw puzzler and a challenge when it comes to find out who he really is inside. He may come off as hard steeled, antisocial, acidic and perhaphs bitter, but inside he is very soft, sensitive about his feelings and beliefs, shy and reluctant to let others see his vulnerabilities as well as self concious about not being 'perfect' as his former Master used to constantly say.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Alexander has a very bad temper, but he is pasive aggressive. He gets angry now and the next five minutes he gets calm. His anger is usually striked when people annoy him, not letting him be despite him warning about it. Alexanders bad temper can be ignited at any time, depending of who you are and with what you annoyed him. Its a dead race with his rage.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Alexander has an IQ over 200 and remembers each tiny little detail about you. If you said you would want to try a certain food he will remeber it and if you are someone important to him he will prepare that dish the next week and surprise you all nonchalantly. He will even know how much sugar you like in your coffee, or he will remember the scent you like your clothes to have. He will know every little detail about you, he has an elephant memory and you can bet he has your full biography into his head.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Most likely the one where you finally earned his trust and he can be much more comfortable around you, not squeaking each time you hug him and such. He doesn't like to be a blushing and shuttering mess, a prospect he cannot control, so finally able to handle his emotions better with you, is a very good thing... Altough he still gets that cute pink blush across his cheeks from time to time.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Alexander can be very protective of someone that means well to him, even giving his life in order to save that special someone. He is a master assassin and he surely doesn't need protection. He can handle himself very good. Take it like this; he will protect you physically from any danger and all you have to protect is his sensitive heart.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

A perfectionist at heart, Alexander will put 100% effort in anything he does for his s/o, be it their Birthday or simply their breakfast, everything has to be done with precision and a hawk eye. Alexander hates failure when it comes to his own persona and simply wants to be praised for a job very good done.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

A very bad habit is his pasive-aggressive attitude of his, the incapacity to handle his emotions and how easily he loses his cool. He tries to hide his shy and awkward self with a shield of rage and anger tantrums, not wanting to be seen as weak and low.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Alexander isn't one to spend hours into the mirror but he is self concious about his scars. Most people look his way and avoid him, giving him either scared or disgusted looks. He cannot imagine someone to be attracted to his ugly marks that make him look like a monster.

If someone says that they think he is handsome or makes him a compliment he will either be a blushing mess or he will tell them not to tell ugly lies. This depends on who you are.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

If he truly loves you and has made that known..... YES. Once he gives you his heart, he will fall into a sulking dark hole without you. He is the type that puts effort 100% into everything so you leaving him for example will make him feel like an incapabile idiot with zero skills just like his Master always told him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

His killing style varies from target to target and each kill has a meaning and different operation. For example one time in Columbia he killed three men, hung them upside down in a public place and gutted them from groin to neck, letting their insides dangle out. Its a silent message 'Don't do what these men did or you are next'. Other times he planted bombs on his targets car or house and detonated them from distance. It all depends on the target and what the one that hired Alexander wants.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In general, Alexander hates people to forcefuly try to get into his life or personal space. Mind your own business, wanker! There is a difference from taking initiative and slowly get to know him, and the being a complete idiot and stuck your nose into his business. Be respectfull of his barriers or else you will get his bitter side which stings.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Alexander sleeps with his gun under the pillow. Mostly where he lived, the places were dangerous and you could always wake up with a gun pointed to your forehead or a knife at your throat. He is very vigilant at night because he knows that's when the killers and such are lurking.

[axindas-art]

In Sickness and In Health

“You don’t have to do anything I’ll be fine on my own…” A gruff voice expressed from under the bed sheets.

“Isa your temperature is at 103 degrees, what makes you think you’ll be able to do anything besides resting?” Lea expressed, putting the thermometer away before helping Isa prop himself up with a mountain of pillows behind his back.

“If I managed to run an organization until the very end, I can manage to do basic needs,” said a stubborn Isa before being met with a coughing fit.

“And I, with the help of friends, managed to run said organization to the ground…” Lea said, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Come on, don’t be stubborn and let your body rest, I’ll take care of everything okay?”

Once his coughing subsided, Isa met Lea’s green eyes with his own tired ones before sighing and asking himself: ‘Can he really trust this red porcupine to NOT destroy their apartment?’ The ringing headache that was rising said yes, but his heart said no.

With a long sigh, he rubbed the bridge of his nose before saying “fine. You’re in charge of today’s chores. I’m trusting you to keep yourself busy and be careful.”

“I knew you could trust in me!” Lea said with a warm smile. Moving closer, he placed a small kiss on his forehead above his scar before pulling the covers over him, helping him settle into his side of the bed.

“I promise you I wont mess up, in a few hours your going to wake up with some freshly squeezed OJ and a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup okay?” He said, gently holding his hand with a warm smile on his face.

Isa couldn’t say no to that soft dorky face. As much as a troublemaker he was, he knew how much Lea loved looking after his loved ones and every little thing he did reminded him of how much he loved Lea.

“I trust you okay? I’ll get some shut eye and when I wake up I’m expecting you to be here.” He said with a small smirk, running his thumb over Lea’s knuckles.

“Oh don’t worry I’ll be here alright.” Lea responded, giving a small wink before getting up to place one last kiss on his forehead. As much as Isa hated being flustered, his fever did not help and made him as red as a tomato. Nestling down into his mound of pillows and grabbing his Meowjesty tsum tsum, he closed his eyes before whispering, “Good night” to Lea, letting sleep take him over.

“Good Night Isa” he said, chuckling at how comfortable he looked before getting up, closing the curtains and quietly leaving the room.

Ladle in one hand, recipe in the other, Lea was ready to cook the world's best chicken noodle soup. In his heart, he had to outdo Remy’s outstanding chicken soup to prove how worthy of a significant other he was. If he can defeat heartless in one swipe, he can make a savory dish to alleviate Isa from a fever. But in his soul he knew: he can’t cook for shit.

“If Xion was here, maybe she could’ve helped me…” He pondered to himself, taking a look at the ingredients list Scrooge managed to text him.

Lea wasn’t one to easily give up, but at the thought of burning up the kitchen and upsetting Isa more than he already was haunted him. He shook his head before patting his chest, a goofy grin across his face:

“No! I have to be the responsible one for the day and show Isa I’m capable of taking care of the both of us! If I follow the list precisely, nothing could go wrong right?”

Aside from being the jokester in the group, Lea was known for being confident and helping motivate everyone around him. Everything he did came from his heart and what mattered was him trying his best. However, sometimes doing his best led him to troublesome situations.

“Soup isn’t that hard to make Lea.” “I know its not Roxas, but I can’t help feeling nervous about it. What if I boil it over or make it too salty?” A puzzled Lea looked onto the Gummiphone, having answered a virtual phone call coming from Roxas.

“If you boil it over, you're just turning flavored water into flavored mist, you're going to be fine. If it’s salty, Isa’s taste buds won’t recognize flavor due to all the medicine he’s taking.”

“I hate to admit that you’re right” Lea said chuckling, rolling his eyes. He was grateful Roxas happened to call and alleviate his worry. It’s as if Yen Sid read his mind and said this poor bastard needs help.

“Your going to do fine, plus you should start learning to cook for yourself. Can’t feed yourself off of Sea Salt Ice Cream all the time you know.” Roxas said with a cheeky smile.

“I don’t want to hear that from you Mr. Winner Winner Chicken Dinner” Lea said, a laugh escaping his lips before sighing in relief. Having finished his chores before cooking was causing his worry to build up; however all of that worry was now replaced with newfound confidence.

“Do you feel better now?” Roxas asked, tilting his head over in a curious manner. Seeing Lea worry and puzzled over doing simple tasks made him question how on Earth Lea managed to survive this far. But he trusted him, knowing the hardest part of tackling a task was the start. From there, it would be smooth sailing for him.

“Yea, I have to trust myself more than anything. At the end of the day, it's all about me doing my very best and I know Isa will appreciate my efforts.” Lea said with a warm smile, his cheeks forming a rosy hue at the thought of Isa looking forward to his efforts.

Roxas couldn’t help but smile seeing Lea’s personality come back. He knew how close Isa and Lea had become due to the aftermath of the Keyblade War. Having shared history together and living through different instances of each others lives not only brought them closer, but strengthened their bond. The journey of friendship to significant others wasn’t easy, but everyone could tell how happy they were to be in each others lives once more.

“Well, I’ll let you go now. I trust you on holding up on your own. Send me a picture when your done okay?” Roxas grinned, giving him a thumbs up as support towards his endeavor.

“Alright alright I’ll let you know how it goes! See ya.” Lea chuckled, waving goodbye before hanging up. He gave one last sigh before giving himself small slaps on the cheeks saying:

“Alright! You got this Lea! Make this soup your bitch, it’s nothing but a bunch of vegetables, seasoning and chicken! Just follow the recipe step by step and nothing can go wrong!”

One fresh squirt of orange juice to the eyes, and a few burnt fingertips later, Lea held a wooden tray with a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup and a pitcher of freshly squeezed OJ. Gently knocking on their bedroom door, he entered the room coming to a stop at hearing a soft, stuffy snore coming from the mound of blankets and pillows on their bed.

In the few hours that Lea was cooking, Isa had shifted his body all over the place, as if a mini tornado had ransacked their bed. From feeling his body reach freezing temperature to hot as the desert leading to Agrabah, Isa couldn’t find the perfect balance of temperature to be able to sleep. His last resort was sticking one leg out of the sheets, leaving it to hang from the edge of the bed, and the rest of his body covered in blankets and pillows. And somehow, that was the sweet spot, allowing him to finally get some shut eye.

Lea couldn’t help but laugh at catching him sleep in such a way. Usually, Isa would keep himself composed and be as stiff as a board in his sleep. But this time, being sick brought down his guard and in his mind comfort was greater than posture. Lea thought to himself that catching Isa off guard could be embarrassing to him, but decided to put his jokes aside and tend to his boyfriend instead. He gently placed the tray on the nightstand next to their bed, turning on their lamp light before gently nudging Isa to wake up.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty, its dinner time” He said, a chuckle escaping his lips hearing a small groan come from under the sheets.

“5 more minutes…” Isa whispered, his small teal eyes peeking from under the blankets. Lea chuckled at the thought of Isa acting like a cat, peering from under a tiny enclosure hesitant to come out due to being tired.

“Come on, if you don’t get up the soups’ going to get cold” Lea said before moving a bit to remove the lid off of the bowl of soup.

“You actually managed to cook? Color me impressed…” yawned Isa before coming out from under the covers. Closing his eyes and taking a whiff of the air, he could smell the hints of rosemary and oregano coming from the soup, and felt his stomach rumble. Maybe all the sleep and being hooped on meds actually started to make him feel hungry.

“I did as the recipe called for and surprise surprise, having some Chicken Noodle Soup a la Lea” he chuckled before grabbing a spoonful, gently blowing on it before feeding some to Isa.

Drinking the soup, Isa found it quite delicious and savory, having licked his lips as if wanting more. “Im perfectly capable of feeding myself you know” he stated, his face becoming flush and a small pout forming.

“Hahaha I know you are it was just a taste test dear.” Lea said with a warm smile. He was happy that Isa was doing better and felt worry disappear from his heart. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better than yesterday...thank you for looking after me.” Isa said looking into Lea’s eyes. He was grateful to be able to wake up and see those glowing jade eyes everyday. To be close to him again, and to be more than just friends was more than he could ever ask for. Traversing through memories, both forgotten and remembered, finally they were together again. He felt whole...and happy.

“No need to thank me, I’d do anything for you Isa…” Lea said, smile never leaving his face. He was happy to be this close again and wished nothing more of it. Isa was there for him as kids, now it was his turn to be there for him. “When you're done with your dinner I’m expecting you to rest more okay?”

“I’ll do so if you join me. ” Isa said with a sly smirk. Isa had his ways of wrapping Lea around his finger...and Lea loved it.

“Alright alright but if I get sick it’s your turn to play nurse.” He chuckled moving close to him, gently holding his hand. These were the small moments that Lea appreciated having again in his life. Being able to hold Isa’s hand, be close to him again...he couldn’t ask for more. As Isa finished eating his dinner, both found comfort in making small talk, being in each others company cracking half wit jokes and what not. Laughter is the best medicine, and in each others presence, love and happiness healed each others hearts. Through sickness and health, to love and to cherish, Isa and Lea ended the night quietly asleep in each others arms.

Guess who got sick the next day?

A/N: Hey everyone, my name’s Axinda and I’m new to the fanfiction community!  I hope everyone enjoys this AkuSai oneshot and feedback would be very much appreciated! I hope to write more AkuSai in the future uwu

[mondregen]

 “Have you used a portal before?”  Minchan asks the question like he doesn’t care much about the answer. The click of his heels on the pavement is distracting, a staccato in bright pink. He’s a lot to handle in the group chat, but even more of a handful in real life. Glittery eyeshadow and perfectly manicured nails, he’s a living doll, making mock kissy faces at every person walking by who dares to stare. A force of nature if Lysander ever saw one.  “Hello? Are you listening?”

 Minchan snapping his fingers in his face brings Lysander back to reality. “Um, what? Sorry, I wasn’t… “  With a huff and a quick wave of his hand, Minchan dismisses his reply. “It doesn’t matter, does it. I’m not walking all the way to Rei’s stupid forest. I’m not going to let my baby witch do it, either.”  As always when Minchan uses this nickname of his, Lysander’s heart skips a beat. It’s one thing to read it, yet another entirely to hear it. And maybe it’s imagination, but something fond colors it, something soft. Lysander fights a smile, biting his lower lip hard. It’s somehow endearing, that particular brand of a handful Minchan is.  He drags him into some alley, its dead end around a brickwalled corner. From his jacket’s pocket he pulls a piece of white chalk, and promptly begins to draw a circle lined and filled with odd symbols on the wall closest to him. Lysander watches in awe and confusion both.  “Oh,” Minchan says, shooting him a grin over his shoulder. “It’s for the portal. You see, for some magic, we need preparation. Magic circles, sometimes little sacrifices, that sort of thing. It’s too advanced for you right now.”  Instead of dampening his mood, this revelation makes Lysander’s stomach flip in joy. “I’ll… learn this, too?”  “Of course!” Minchan finishes his work off and takes a step back, pocketing the chalk again. “You’ll learn this, and how to make potions, and, if Hiroki doesn’t tell me not to, I might just teach you some conjuring, too. Just… don’t go trying to summon some demon, yes? That never goes well.”  Once again, Lysander only half listens, too entranced by the casualness of Minchan going about his business. He squares his shoulders and places an outstretched hand into the very center of the circle. As soon as his fingers touch the chalk, it springs to life, glowing a gentle white. Minchan pulls his hand back slowly. The circle lifts off the wall, sticking to his skin like a spiderweb. It hangs in the air, still connected to Minchan’s hand. Lysander’s jaw falls open.  Of course, Minchan notices. “Neat, isn’t it? Wait until you see Qiaomeng doing it. He doesn’t even need a surface, just draws the thing in the air right away. Talented bastard.”  He falls silent, eyes closed. The glow of the circle brightens. Around it, the air flimmers like it does in the hot summer sun. Lysander inhales, catching the slightest whiff of ozone.  Minchan balls his hand into a loose fist, only his forefinger sticking out. He drags the pad of it down the length of the circle, and, little by little, it breaks open in the wake of his touch. When Minchan reaches the end, the chalk peels back in its entirety, revealing a swirl of muted purples and greens dispersed in a sea of endless black. It takes over the circle, stretching to about Minchan’s height. It stops as soon as it touches the ground.  Lysander’s heart flutters in his chest. His arms break out in goose-flesh. “Wow,” is all he manages to press out.  Minchan hums. “This is a portal. It’s like… a door, except it leads into someone’s home if that someone allows it. Rei isn’t a fan of it, but he lets us use one, anyhow.”  “Why doesn’t he like it?”  “A talented witch could trace this magic back to him. I’ll have Parfait erase as much of it after we’re done as she can, but there’ll always be some leftover in places spells were used. Rei’s mostly worried someone might have the idea to murder him in his sleep, really.” Lowering his voice, Minchan adds, “He’s got a bit of a reputation. The plants he grows are highly sought after, some impossible to get around these parts unless you want to pay a hefty sum. He has all reason to be cautious.”  Lysander makes a little noise of understanding. All he knows about Rei is that he lives in a forest -- magical and weird, as Qiaomeng had put it -- and that he’s powerful, too. He should have asked more questions.  “Anyway.” Minchan grasps him gently by the shoulders and steers him towards the portal. “It’s best if you close your eyes and keep your limbs pressed to your body until you’re back on solid ground. Got it? I’ll be right behind you.”  Before Lysander gets another word in, Minchan pushes him.  Everything goes dark.  His stomach swoops again, but not at all in joy this time. He finds himself hovering in nothingness before he’s swept away. Like a tornado toying with a skinny branch, he’s scooped up and tossed about, a deafening roar in his ears. Static sticks to his skin, crawling across it in a numbing tingle. Lysander opens his mouth to scream, but no sound makes it out.  A flash of green breaks through the dark. Lysander slams face first into a tree, its leaves shivering with the impact.  “Oh. Oh, no,” a voice close to him says. Someone places a hand on his shoulder in cadence to a wave of nausea flooding through him. Lysander retches, hunching over. The hand moves to pat his back, all gentle. “There, there. Travelling with portals is never fun, I’m afraid. He should have told you.”  He chances a look to his right, to where the voice is coming from, and is met with bare feet on mossy forest floor. Pressing the back of his hand to his mouth, he straightens slowly.  Miles and miles of forest stretch out around him, trees and bushes and a little creek gently running its course. Birdsong fills the space, lined with the rustle of leaves overhead.  Rei lives in a forest. This forest.  “Is everything alright again?” the voice asks, and the hand disappears. Lysander nods absently.  “Sorry, I… oh.”  A young man steps into his view -- the one those bare feet belong to -- and gives him an encouraging, but small smile. He’s taller than Lysander is, his hair a warm shade of blond reminiscent of honey. Something about him is… off. His skin is too perfect, his movements just shy of oily. There’s a startling darkness to his eyes. Not human, his instincts scream at him, though he passes as one well enough.  The portal buzzes. Minchan emerges with grace, touching his feet to the ground as though he were a cat leaping off the sofa. He beams at the both of them, the definition of cheeky.  “I see you’ve already met our hermit.”  The not-quite-human huffs, crossing his arms. A few heads of flowers peek through his hair, all varying shades of red. “Why did you let him go through it like this? It’s dangerous.”  “Oh, relax. Don’t talk to me about dangerous. You grow flesh-eating plants.”  “ -- that never harm anyone unless I tell them to --”  “Right. That makes it better.”  The puzzle pieces click belatedly. “Oh!” Lysander says, clutching at his chest. “You’re Rei!”  Rei turns toward him, wearing the same smile as before. “And you’re Lysander. I’ll get you something for the queasiness. Portals get to everyone the first time, especially if you’re not fully prepared.” He shoots Minchan a weighty look at his last few words. Minchan retaliates by sticking out his tongue. Rei ignores him. “Come, I’ll show you inside.”  “Inside”, as it turns out, is a little hut hidden behind layers of what Minchan calls “glamour”. After a simple wave of Rei’s hand, it appears out of thin air, flimmering at the edges like Minchan’s circle had done. It sits in the middle of a fenced in, lush garden, a plethora of brightly colored flowers and plants. Some, Lysander recognizes, but others he’s never seen in his life. A walkway of grey stones leads to the entrance door, heavy looking and wooden.  The door swings open on its own, or so it appears. Rei bends down to pick something up, cupping it ever so gently in his palms.  It’s a tiny, albino hedgehog.  “Thank you, Lilac.” Rei presses a kiss to the hedgehog’s forehead. The hedgehog makes a noise that sounds suspiciously flustered. “This is my familiar,” Rei follows it up with, showing Lilac to Lysander. “Say hello. Try to be friends. I’d hate for you two to not get along.”  Lysander wrings his hands, staring at Lilac. Lilac doesn’t move, either, staring right back.  “Um. H-hello. It’s nice to meet you.”  Lilac raises his little snout into the air, and Rei frowns down at him.  “What did I just say? Play nice.”  Still, Lilac doesn’t look very impressed. He turns around in Rei’s palms before he vanishes in a shimmery flash of light. Rei shakes his head.  “Don’t mind him. He needs a bit to warm up to someone.”  Minchan mutters something about it being Rei’s own fault for never socializing. He goes ignored again.  The inside of Rei’s hut is surprisingly normal. All his furniture is wooden or partly wooden, from the round table in the kitchen to the sofa lined with the plushest cushions and pillows to the TV stand. Herbs and flowers hang from every wall, both dried and fresh. The most outlandish item is the big cauldron in the middle of the kitchen, a fire lit underneath it. Whatever’s inside it bubbles gently, filling the air with a sweet, herby scent.  Of all the cliched witch-things Lysander expected to see, this is the most accurate to his imaginations.  Upon closer inspection, however, he finds that the TV and the kitchen itself are both highly modern. Rei even owns a gaming console. How and where is he getting his electricity from? Something tells him the answer will either be magic, or so mundane that he would have never considered it. A question for another day.  Rei gathers them together in the middle of the living room and has them sit on the floor after pushing the coffee table aside. He hands Lysander a small pill and a glass of water instead of the potion he’d expected, and Lysander gulps both down. Apparently, even witches have a need for regular medicine. Perhaps solving everything with magic is against the rules. If there are any rules.  He has so much to learn.  “Did you bring the salves?” Rei asks, seated cross-legged next to Lysander.  A few days earlier, Rei instructed him to prepare a couple of standard salves to put on wounds, ones that his job as a nurse has long familiarized him with. He’d told him to make them with the intent to heal, to concentrate on and visualize the process of a wound closing. So Lysander had done exactly that. And though he’d found himself tempted to test them, himself, he thought it more prudent to wait until both Minchan and Rei could ascertain their capabilities. If they had any special ones, anyhow.  Lysander gives a quick nod, taking the two small, rotund plastic containers out of his sling bag. They used to be filled with store-bought skin care, serving this purpose just fine. Rei takes them with a grateful nod. One he hands Minchan, the other he keeps, unscrewing the lid. He tilts it gently in his palm so the light catches in the creaminess of the salve, making it glisten. He brings it up to his face to smell it, humming as he does. Whether or not it’s a satisfied noise, Lysander can’t tell.  “They smell nice,” Minchan comments, tilting his container every which way like Rei had done. “Why’d you make him make these?”  Rei smiles, that same, small smile, but there’s an edge to it. Smug. “Because I asked him what he’s interested in. Have you done the same?”  Minchan sputters. “I -- you know, it’s not like we can just jump into what he likes. He needs basics. That’s what I’m concerned about.”  This playful back and forth is just as endearing as Minchan’s whirlwind persona. Lysander can’t stop himself from giggling, which earns him a wider smile from Rei and a noise from Minchan like he’s terribly martyred. But he’s smiling, too, unable to hide it even behind that huffy facade.  “Well,” Rei says after a moment of comfortable silence, “I suppose we’ll need to test these.”  He gets up and walks over to the kitchen to rummage in a drawer. What he pulls out glints silvery in his palm, and only when he sits back down, it becomes clear what it is. A knife. Vines snake around its handle, deep green in color. The blade itself is simple and two-edged, a small symbol etched into the very tip of it.  Rei reaches out, takes one of Minchan’s hands and quickly drags the knife from one side of his palm to the other. Minchan yelps.  “What the fuck?! Have you lost your --”  Minchan struggles, but Rei tightens his grasp on his hand, keeping him in place. Blood wells up from the cut, beading along the surface.  “As I said, we need to test his salves,” Rei says, his voice unaffected. He turns his attention towards Lysander, who has since frozen in his spot. His heart hammers in his chest, a new wave of sickness sloshing in his stomach. As used as he is to seeing blood, a warning would have been nice.  Minchan struggles again, but it’s still in vain. He goes slack a moment after, averting his eyes. “I’m going to be sick.”  Rei hums vaguely, still looking at Lysander. “Which one of them would you use for a cut like this?”  “Um.” Lysander slowly inches forward to take a closer look at the cut. It’s not deep, something that would heal just fine on its own once its dressed. He picks up one of his salves, offering it to Rei. “This one.”  “Well, go on then. Put it on.”  Lysander blinks at him. None of this is what he’d expected of this get-together, but he doesn’t have the luxury to complain. Hesitating, he asks Rei for something to clean the blood up with, and Rei disappears again only to return with a damp washcloth. Lysander wipes the cut down, careful not to hurt Minchan too much, before he dips a finger into the salve, coating the pad of it with the thinnest layer.  “This… might sting a little,” he warns as he gently rubs the salve along the cut.  Even before he manages to reach the end of it, the cut begins to close.  He and Minchan both gape at it, at the way the skin knits together on its own right in front of their eyes. Lysander finishes his job to watch the rest of it close, too, leaving Minchan’s palm pristine as if nothing ever happened. No scab, no scar. Nothing.  “Holy shit,” Minchan whispers in awe, inspecting his hand up close. Next to him, Rei chuckles.  “I knew it would work the moment you handed it to me. You must have felt that, too, Minchan.”  Minchan, rubbing his thumb along the spot where the cut used to be, nods dumbly. “I… felt something, sure. But I’m not good at healing magic. I couldn’t tell it was going to be like this.”  Rei wipes his knife down with the damp washcloth. It’s all a little much to take in -- Rei being so casual, Minchan so shocked, this place and Lysander’s salve actually working. His head spins with this slew of information. Judging by the softness of Rei’s face, he’s noticed. He puts a hand on Lysander’s shoulder, squeezing gently.  “You have a talent. Very potent magic. You’ll make a great healer one day, baby witch.”  For the umpteenth time, Lysander’s heart skips a beat.

[goodeveningtowrite]

Still Life

Following a prompt from one of my long lost (to me!) favorite prompt blogs on tumblr @otpprompts. The original prompt can be found here -- take a peek to be filled in, or read on! Semi-dedicated to a friend who made a joke that was on my mind when I was wondering whether I should branch out and use a name in this one (although I hate naming characters so early). Happy reading! x

What had started as an exercise in self-confidence had resulted in dismal discomfort. As if it weren’t difficult enough to drop my robe in front of a group of people who were all waiting, pencils ready — literally — to draw my every flaw to their interpretation, he had to be there, too.

I should’ve known Adam was an artist. All too often when we passed each other in and out of our adjacent apartments, his Doc Martens would have splotches of paint on them that looked like some unsuccessful attempt had been made to clean them. He had glasses on top of his head that I never saw him wear and assumed were for aesthetic until I’d walked in and found them resting on the end of his nose, just under his furrowed brow as his eyes ping-ponged between me and the pad in front of him. Even his worn-in plaid shirt somehow had that look about it like he should be an artist. Overall, he wasn’t unattractive, he just always seemed a little serious and surly.

What I could not have known, however, was that he’d be in the very class I was modeling for today.

When I’d first seen him in the group, I hadn’t been sure whether his somewhat familiar presence would make this easier or more difficult, but his blinking glower had determined where that particular chip had fallen. The disdain rolling off him made me feel hot, but I sat tall on the stool, offering the best curve of my back and, undoubtedly, view of my breasts, and kept my eyes straight ahead (save for the few moments they strayed to him), doing my best to have a pleasantly neutral expression.

I wasn’t sure why he felt such animosity towards me — for all I knew, we’d never had more interactions than a, “Your package was delivered to mine,” and, “Sure, I’ll get your mail for you while you’re away,” with the occasional, “Could you please turn your music down?” He didn’t give off a threatening vibe, thank God, but it was intense — he was intense, even now as I watched him shake his head, lips tight, and pluck his eraser up before raking it over the unseen page with so much vigor the sheet nearly ripped clean away from the rest of the pad.

He turned it over quickly to start anew, and the furrow in his brow grew deeper as his hand raced across the paper to catch up with his peers. As the time dragged by and my poses shifted accordingly, he repeated this pattern, more or less, several times over, sometimes turning pages or tearing them away without even trying to salvage whatever error he’d made. Maybe it was a bit, I mused — tortured artist and all that. Maybe he had to be moody and broody to find his truth or whatever excuse there was to be an unwelcoming dick. Or maybe he just didn’t like his neighbors stripping in front of him.

Guess there would be no jokes about drawing me like one of his French girls I thought wryly from my most recent position of reclining on my side, one hand propping me up and the other draped over my stomach because I didn’t know where else to put it. My lips twitched, but I refrained from smiling to myself and forced my mind to wander so I wouldn’t be so stuck on it. It wasn’t even that funny, but with no distraction—

Dark eyes met mine and I was more frozen than before if possible, a deer in his headlights, and I sucked in a short, sharp gasp from the shock of being caught staring (and no amount of my denial could deny that’s what I’d been doing now). Oh, fuck.

Rather than grow surlier, though, or looking even an iota pleased with himself — I’ve seen that a time or two or twenty before when eyes happened to catch at the precisely wrong moment — his jaw dropped and his eyebrows rose, forehead smoothing out for the first time as if he was startled. Neither one of us turned away, and I watched a faint flush rise in his cheeks and he closed his mouth, throat bobbing with an inaudible gulp.

It felt like we stared at each other forever (and to my horror, I realized I couldn’t be the one to move), but it was still a shock when others started to stand in singles and threes. Belatedly, I unfolded stiff muscles and locked joints to sit upright and grab the robe I’d dropped and pulled it over my shoulders with awkward jerks and drew it hastily closed around me. Chatter rose and fell, and I stayed seated as the crowd thinned. It was my preference to be the last one out, but though the others had largely left, Adam remained, glasses back on top of his head and long fingers and the sides of his hands smeared with charcoal and lead, gathering sheets of paper and cleaning up the tornado’s destruction he’d made around him.

“Be out of here in a minute,” he said, and I nearly jumped clean out of his skin. I hadn’t thought he’d noticed I was watching him, but that would make the second time today.

“Don’t worry,” I said, pinching my robe just over my chest as I stood. “I’m in no rush. I’m sorry, by the way.”

He was in the middle of replacing his charcoals inside his kit when I said this, and he looked up.

“Sorry?” he repeated dumbly.

“If this was awkward,” I said, feeling more awkward now that I’d brought it up than if I hadn’t said anything at all.

He shook his head and pushed his glasses farther up into the mop, their black frames nearly blending in.

“We’re professionals about it,” he said. “Probably seen about as many as a bodies as a med student.” He snuffed a laugh, the corner of his mouth lifting up, and for the first time since I’d known him he looked… nice.

One of his sheets fluttered to the ground and he bent to pick it up. “May I see?” I asked.

His eyes snapped to mine, and I again saw the soft pink rise in the apples of his cheeks.

“Can’t really say they’re private,” I said. “They’re of me.”

Still Adam stared, and I cleared my throat. “You don’t have to,” I said. “Just thought I’d like to see them is all.”

Maybe he didn’t want me to, and maybe there was a reason for that, and maybe I should be grateful that he wanted to spare me.

Paper crinkled as he shuffled towards me on his feet while his hands shuffled papers clumsily before he pulled one out from the short stack and held it out to me.

“This one’s best,” he said, though he sounded unsure as I took it from him. “I couldn’t… you wouldn’t quite….”

He struggled to describe his issue with it and I peered down at the charcoal version of me. It was the last one judging by the pose, and I could see spots where he seemed to have gotten most frustrated with himself.

“What’s wrong with it?”

My question was whispered, but it echoed in the newly emptied room, and when he reached across the sheet to point, I was acutely away of how much taller than me he was.

“Your hand,” he said, indicating several sketched fingers. “You put it there, and I felt like I couldn’t….”

He gestured vaguely over the apex of my thighs where the lines faded up into my stomach. I looked… soft. Soft, but firm, not every other ugly adjective I’d often used to describe myself. I looked like the plus-sized brand magazines trotted out in the name of inclusivity that still left me with a raging inferiority complex, but I could tell that it wasn’t a corrected impression of me. It was his impression of me, and it made me feel hot all over.

“And in these,” he said, thrusting another few sheets in front of me. “Every one of them, there’s something you’re hiding,” he said. “It’s like you don’t….”

I bit my lip, his unfinished sentence speaking the unspoken truth.

“You shouldn’t do that next time,” he said, his smooth voice husky from how quiet it was. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Professional opinion?” I asked, and when I looked at him he nodded his head from side to side, lips again quirked at the corners.

“Something like that,” he admitted, and I swallowed hard.

“Is that why you looked so pissed off?” I asked dryly.

“Did I?” he asked and I nodded.

“A bit, yeah,” I said.

“Maybe,” he said with a laugh, that pink shade in his cheeks growing deeper. He needlessly pushed his glasses back on his head again before clapping his hand over them when they nearly fell off entirely. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I didn’t mean to — it wasn’t you, if that’s what you were thinking,” he said quickly.

“No,” I said. “Honest, that was the last thing on my mind,” I assured him, silently declaring myself to be the liar that I was. “Here,” I said, handing the sheets back to him. “Thank you,” I added. “I was curious.”

“Sure,” he, tucking them back in with the rest. “Do you think you’ll be back?”

“To model?” I asked and he nodded. “I’m not sure,” I said.

“Well,” he said. “If you do, let me know. And try not to—“ He waved his hands over his body and I smiled slightly.

“Sure,” I echoed him.

“Are you…?” He nearly dropped his papers again, and I swear I’ve never seen moody, broody, neighbor Adam with his paint-splattered Docs and fraying plaid shirt look so uncool and flustered. “Are you headed back home, or…?”

“Space needs to be cleared,” I said. “So, probably, yeah.” I sounded strangely breathless even to my ears and he licked his lips.

“I can wait for you, if that’s—“ He exhaled and the corners of the papers fluttered angrily. “It’s not because I saw you naked,” he said clearly. “That’s professional. I just thought since we’re both going that way and we’ve never really had a chance to chat to get to know each other—“

“If I can get my clothes on first,” I said and he grinned almost bashfully.

“Suppose that’s fair,” he agreed. “And maybe a coffee?”

The shock I was feeling must’ve been evident on my face, because he quickly added, “If you want. I’ll let you take another look at these, too,” he said, holding his drawings up.

“Sure,” I said before he could stutter and stumble his way through more. “That’d be nice.”

His shoulders slumped some and his brow smoothed out. “Cool… alright, yeah, I’ll meet you out—“ He jerked his head and I nodded, rubbing the knot at my waist. Out of all the ways I would’ve expected this day to end, this was definitely not at the top of the list or even on it. Still, though, my stomach fluttered with butterflies, and I was cautiously curious about expanding my daily repertoire with him. At the very least, by the end of this all I’ll have said more than, “Hi,” and, “Bye,” to him.

[everdreamts-blog]

  “Have you used a portal before?”   Minchan asks the question like he doesn’t care much about the answer. The click of his heels on the pavement is distracting, a staccato in bright pink. He’s a lot to handle in the group chat, but even more of a handful in real life. Glittery eyeshadow and perfectly manicured nails, he’s a living doll, making mock kissy faces at every person walking by who dares to stare. A force of nature if Lysander ever saw one.   “Hello? Are you listening?”

  Minchan snapping his fingers in his face brings Lysander back to reality. “Um, what? Sorry, I wasn’t… “   With a huff and a quick wave of his hand, Minchan dismisses his reply. “It doesn’t matter, does it. I’m not walking all the way to Rei’s stupid forest. I’m not going to let my baby witch do it, either.”   As always when Minchan uses this nickname of his, Lysander’s heart skips a beat. It’s one thing to read it, yet another entirely to hear it. And maybe it’s imagination, but something fond colors it, something soft. Lysander fights a smile, biting his lower lip hard. It’s somehow endearing, that particular brand of a handful Minchan is.   He drags him into some alley, its dead end around a brickwalled corner. From his jacket’s pocket he pulls a piece of white chalk, and promptly begins to draw a circle lined and filled with odd symbols on the wall closest to him. Lysander watches in awe and confusion both.   “Oh,” Minchan says, shooting him a grin over his shoulder. “It’s for the portal. You see, for some magic, we need preparation. Magic circles, sometimes little sacrifices, that sort of thing. It’s too advanced for you right now.”   Instead of dampening his mood, this revelation makes Lysander’s stomach flip in joy. “I’ll… learn this, too?”   “Of course!” Minchan finishes his work off and takes a step back, pocketing the chalk again. “You’ll learn this, and how to make potions… I might just teach you some conjuring, too. Just don’t go trying to summon some demon, yes? That never goes well.”   Once again, Lysander only half listens, too entranced by the casualness of Minchan going about his business. He squares his shoulders and places an outstretched hand into the very center of the circle. As soon as his fingers touch the chalk, it springs to life, glowing a gentle white. Minchan pulls his hand back slowly. The circle lifts off the wall, sticking to his skin like a spiderweb. It hangs in the air, still connected to Minchan’s hand. Lysander’s jaw falls open.   Of course, Minchan notices. “Neat, isn’t it? Wait until you see Qiaomeng doing it. He doesn’t even need a surface, just draws the thing in the air right away. Talented bastard.”   He falls silent, eyes closed. The glow of the circle brightens. Around it, the air flimmers like it does in the hot summer sun. Lysander inhales, catching the slightest whiff of ozone.   Minchan balls his hand into a loose fist, only his forefinger sticking out. He drags the pad of it down the length of the circle, and, little by little, it breaks open in the wake of his touch. When Minchan reaches the end, the chalk peels back in its entirety, revealing a swirl of muted purples and greens dispersed in a sea of endless black. It takes over the circle, stretching to about Minchan’s height. It stops as soon as it touches the ground.   Lysander’s heart flutters in his chest. His arms break out in goose-flesh. “Wow,” is all he manages to press out.   Minchan hums. “This is a portal. It’s like… a door, except it leads into someone’s home if that someone allows it. Rei isn’t a fan of it, but he lets us use one, anyhow.”   “Why doesn’t he like it?”   “A talented witch could trace this magic back to him. I’ll have Parfait erase as much of it after we’re done as she can, but there’ll always be some leftover in places spells were used. Rei’s mostly worried someone might have the idea to murder him in his sleep, really.” Lowering his voice, Minchan adds, “He’s got a bit of a reputation. The plants he grows are highly sought after, some impossible to get around these parts unless you want to pay a hefty sum. He has all reason to be cautious.”   Lysander makes a little noise of understanding. All he knows about Rei is that he lives in a forest – magical and weird, as Qiaomeng had put it – and that he’s powerful, too. He should have asked more questions.   “Anyway.” Minchan grasps him gently by the shoulders and steers him towards the portal. “It’s best if you close your eyes and keep your limbs pressed to your body until you’re back on solid ground. Got it? I’ll be right behind you.”   Before Lysander gets another word in, Minchan pushes him.   Everything around him goes dark.   His stomach swoops again, but not at all in joy this time. He finds himself hovering in nothingness before he’s swept away. Like a tornado toying with a skinny branch, he’s scooped up and tossed about, a deafening roar in his ears. Static sticks to his skin, crawling across it in a numbing tingle. Lysander opens his mouth to scream, but no sound makes it out.   A flash of green breaks through the dark. Lysander slams face first into a tree, its leaves shivering with the impact.   “Oh. Oh, no,” a voice close to him says. Someone places a hand on his shoulder in cadence to a wave of nausea flooding through him. Lysander retches, hunching over. The hand moves to pat his back, all gentle. “There, there. Travelling with portals is never fun, I’m afraid. He should have told you.”   He chances a look to his right, to where the voice is coming from, and is met with bare feet on mossy forest floor. Pressing the back of his hand to his mouth, he straightens slowly.   Miles and miles of forest stretch out around him, trees and bushes and a little creek gently running its course. Birdsong fills the space, lined with the rustle of leaves overhead.   Rei lives in a forest. This forest.   “Is everything alright again?” the voice asks, and the hand disappears.   Lysander nods absently. “Sorry, I… oh.”   A young man steps into his view – the one those bare feet belong to – and gives him an encouraging, but small smile. He’s taller than Lysander is, his hair a strangely warm shade of black. Something about him is… off. His skin is too perfect, his movements just shy of oily. There’s a startling darkness to his eyes. Not human, his instincts scream at him, though he passes as one well enough.   The portal buzzes. Minchan emerges with grace, touching his feet to the ground as though he were a cat leaping off the sofa. He beams at the both of them, the definition of cheeky.   “I see you’ve already met our hermit.”   The not-quite-human huffs, crossing his arms. A few heads of flowers peek through his hair, all varying shades of red. “Why did you let him go through it like this? It’s dangerous.”   “Oh, relax. Don’t talk to me about dangerous. You grow flesh-eating plants.”   “ – that never harm anyone unless I tell them to –”   “Right. That makes it better.”   The puzzle pieces click belatedly. “Oh!” Lysander says, clutching at his chest. “You’re Rei!” Rei turns toward him, wearing the same smile as before. “And you’re Lysander. I’ll get you something for the queasiness. Portals get to everyone the first time, especially if you’re not fully prepared.” He shoots Minchan a weighty look at his last few words. Minchan retaliates by sticking out his tongue. Rei ignores him. “Come, I’ll show you inside.”   “Inside”, as it turns out, is a little hut hidden behind layers of what Minchan calls “glamour”. After a simple wave of Rei’s hand, it appears out of thin air, flimmering at the edges like Minchan’s circle had done. It sits in the middle of a fenced in, lush garden, a plethora of brightly colored flowers and plants. Some, Lysander recognizes, but others he’s never seen in his life. A walkway of grey stones leads to the entrance door, heavy looking and wooden.   The door swings open on its own, or so it appears. Rei bends down to pick something up, cupping it ever so gently in his palms.   It’s a tiny, albino hedgehog.   “Thank you, Lilac.” Rei presses a kiss to the hedgehog’s forehead. The hedgehog makes a noise that sounds suspiciously flustered. “This is my familiar,” Rei follows it up with, showing Lilac to Lysander. “Say hello. Try to be friends. I’d hate for you two to not get along.”   Lysander wrings his hands, staring at Lilac. Lilac doesn’t move, either, staring right back.   “Um. H-hello. It’s nice to meet you.”   Lilac raises his little snout into the air, and Rei frowns down at him.   “What did I just say? Play nice.”   Still, Lilac doesn’t look very impressed. He turns around in Rei’s palms before he vanishes in a shimmery flash of light. Rei shakes his head.   “Don’t mind him. He needs a bit to warm up to someone.”   Minchan mutters something about it being Rei’s own fault for never socializing. He goes ignored again.   The inside of Rei’s hut is surprisingly normal. All his furniture is wooden or partly wooden, from the round table in the kitchen to the sofa lined with the plushest cushions and pillows to the TV stand. Herbs and flowers hang from every wall, both dried and fresh. The most outlandish item is the big cauldron in the middle of the kitchen, a fire lit underneath it. Whatever’s inside it bubbles gently, filling the air with a sweet, herby scent.   Of all the cliched witch-things Lysander expected to see, this is the most accurate to his imaginations.   Upon closer inspection, however, he finds that the TV and the kitchen itself are both highly modern. Rei even owns a gaming console. How and where is he getting his electricity from? Something tells him the answer will either be magic, or so mundane that he would have never considered it. A question for another day.   Rei gathers them together in the middle of the living room and has them sit on the floor after pushing the coffee table aside. He hands Lysander a small pill and a glass of water instead of the potion he’d expected, and Lysander gulps both down. Apparently, even witches have a need for regular medicine. Perhaps solving everything with magic is against the rules. If there are any rules.   He has so much to learn.   “Did you bring the salves?” Rei asks, seated cross-legged next to Lysander.   A few days earlier, Rei instructed him to prepare a couple of standard salves to put on wounds, ones that his job as a nurse has long familiarized him with. He’d told him to make them with the intent to heal, to concentrate on and visualize the process of a wound closing. So Lysander had done exactly that. And though he’d found himself tempted to test them, himself, he thought it more prudent to wait until both Minchan and Rei could ascertain their capabilities. If they had any special ones, anyhow.   Lysander gives a quick nod, taking the two small, rotund plastic containers out of his sling bag. They used to be filled with store-bought skin care, serving this purpose just fine. Rei takes them with a grateful nod. One he hands Minchan, the other he keeps, unscrewing the lid. He tilts it gently in his palm so the light catches in the creaminess of the salve, making it glisten. He brings it up to his face to smell it, humming as he does. Whether or not it’s a satisfied noise, Lysander can’t tell.   “They smell nice,” Minchan comments, tilting his container every which way like Rei had done. “Why’d you make him make these?”   Rei smiles, that same, small smile, but there’s an edge to it. Smug. “Because I asked him what he’s interested in. Have you done the same?”   Minchan sputters. “I – you know, it’s not like we can just jump into what he likes. He needs basics. That’s what I’m concerned about.”   This playful back and forth is just as endearing as Minchan’s whirlwind persona. Lysander can’t stop himself from giggling, which earns him a wider smile from Rei and a noise from Minchan like he’s terribly martyred. But he’s smiling, too, unable to hide it even behind that huffy facade.   “Well,” Rei says after a moment of comfortable silence, “I suppose we’ll need to test these.”   He gets up and walks over to the kitchen to rummage in a drawer. What he pulls out glints silvery in his palm, and only when he sits back down, it becomes clear what it is. A knife. Vines snake around its handle, deep green in color. The blade itself is simple and two-edged, a small symbol etched into the very tip of it.   Rei reaches out, takes one of Minchan’s hands and quickly drags the knife from one side of his palm to the other. Minchan yelps.   “What the fuck?! Have you lost your –”   Minchan struggles, but Rei tightens his grasp on his hand, keeping him in place. Blood wells up from the cut, beading along the surface.   “As I said, we need to test his salves,” Rei says, his voice unaffected. He turns his attention towards Lysander, who has since frozen in his spot. His heart hammers in his chest, a new wave of sickness sloshing in his stomach. As used as he is to seeing blood, a warning would have been nice.   Minchan struggles again, but it’s still in vain. He goes slack a moment after, averting his eyes. “I’m going to be sick.”   Rei hums vaguely, still looking at Lysander. “Which one of them would you use for a cut like this?”   “Um.” Lysander slowly inches forward to take a closer look at the cut. It’s not deep, something that would heal just fine on its own once its dressed. He picks up one of his salves, offering it to Rei. “This one.”   “Well, go on then. Put it on.”   Lysander blinks at him. None of this is what he’d expected of this get-together, but he doesn’t have the luxury to complain. Hesitating, he asks Rei for something to clean the blood up with, and Rei disappears again only to return with a damp washcloth. Lysander wipes the cut down, careful not to hurt Minchan too much, before he dips a finger into the salve, coating the pad of it with the thinnest layer.   “This… might sting a little,” he warns as he gently rubs the salve along the cut.   Even before he manages to reach the end of it, the cut begins to close.   He and Minchan both gape at it, at the way the skin knits together on its own right in front of their eyes. Lysander finishes his job to watch the rest of it close, too, leaving Minchan’s palm pristine as if nothing ever happened. No scab, no scar. Nothing.   “Holy shit,” Minchan whispers in awe, inspecting his hand up close. Next to him, Rei chuckles.   “I knew it would work the moment you handed it to me. You must have felt that, too, Minchan.”   Minchan, rubbing his thumb along the spot where the cut used to be, nods dumbly. “I… felt something, sure. But I’m not good at healing magic. I couldn’t tell it was going to be like this.”   Rei wipes his knife down with the damp washcloth. It’s all a little much to take in – Rei being so casual, Minchan so shocked, this place and Lysander’s salve actually working. His head spins with this slew of information. Judging by the softness of Rei’s face, he’s noticed. He puts a hand on Lysander’s shoulder, squeezing gently.   “You have a talent. Very potent magic. You’ll make a great healer one day, baby witch.”   For the umpteenth time, Lysander’s heart skips a beat.

[heroes-of-our-hearts]

Chapter Three: A Bar Break

God you loved Midnight.

She was currently laughing at you, her laughter barely comprehensible over the sounds of the club.

She’d dragged you to one often frequented by other heroes so you could mingle. To your surprise, you even met some UA staff there by accident.

By the time you were on your seventh shot and second mojito, you’d run face first into Hizashi. He was mad Midnight hadn’t invited him, and had chose to scour clubs in the area with Shouta instead until he could crash your party.

Too bad for him your party was protected by the alcohol flowing through your body.

“Shouta!” You cheered when you spotted him behind Hizashi.

The man grumbled in response, but your attitude couldn’t be pulled down.

“You’re always so pouty,” you complained, attempting to pout like him. You and Midnight ended up clutching each other laughing instead.

“You are drunk,” he said dryly.

You waved him off, unenthused by his behavior. Hizashi found it a fair bit entertaining compared to Shouta. He had stolen your drink though, for which you were glaring at him for.

“Lighten up, let loose,” your words were a jumbled mess of English and Japanese, barely decipherable to anybody.

Over the past week since you’d begun at UA you’d made it your personal mission to make class 1-A’s homeroom teacher blush as much as possible. Mostly because Nemuri had mentioned how she’d never seen him so flustered. (He also looked really cute when his cheeks got red and he tried to hide it but that was definitely not what you were paying attention to.)

“Yeah Shouta, stop being a mud in the stick,” Midnight agreed. Though, she paused when she registered her own words, her eyes narrowing as she attempted to figure out what was wrong with the sentence.

Eventually, she shrugged, deciding it was either correct or not worth the time.

“There’s her limit,” Hizashi said, pointing to Nemuri.

The woman in question giggled.

“Time to go,” Shouta stated, beginning to usher the two of you out.

Hizashi muttered something, leaving your drink behind as he helped his friend. Shouta was torn between amusement and frustration. Okay, your little coos of surprise when you noticed anything was kind of entertaining, and really hard to be mad at.

It took far longer than it should’ve to remove both you and Nemuri from the club. To be honest, he was one random abdominal poke away from slinging you over his shoulder. Hizashi wasn’t faring much better with Nemuri, considering he was currently half dragging her.

“The water!” You called, your voice full of awe.

Had Shouta not been as focused on peeling Nemuri off of Hizashi’s leg, he may have turned in time to grab you. He hadn’t, though, and the resounding splash sent panic coursing through his veins.

“(Y/N)!” He yelled out, stern and low.

He was about to make his way to the edge of the pier, where you quite obviously decided it was time for a midnight swim, when a gruff voice interrupted him.

“Well, well, well…” The guy muttered, beefing out his chest in a show of intimidation.

He had a head like a rhino, his bones cracking as he moved his neck back and forth.

Really? The stereotypical villain coming out right now?

“Now?”

No, Hizashi didn’t whine. He is a grown man and he would never whine.

(Though, if you ask Shouta, that was definitely a whine.)

“I got it,” Shouta stated, poised and ready for attack.

Only, a stream of water shot out at the man before he could take a step.

Raising a brow, he looked to the source of it. His jaw nearly dropped at the sight of you sitting in a, well, water tornado? The water was rushing around you, freezing and holding the villain in place as you moved your hands. It was a bit sloppy, but still, your technique was rather impressive.

“Wait, Nemuri, look at this!” You shouted to your friend, your wrists bending and arms moving in a flash.

The water around you formed into a shape eerily similar to an octopus, and you were dancing happily inside of it, wiggling the water arms.

Nemuri fell into a fit of giggles, and Hizashi failed to stop himself from laughing at the display.

The villain let out a roar, obviously mad he’d been made into a display and had been completely overlooked.

You frowned.

“Octopus beats rhino,” you taunted, guiding the water to place you back onto the ground.

You stretched a bit as you landed, only stopping to wince when a camera flashed in your direction. Your little display had drawn a slight crowd. They were cheering and taking pictures of you.

Shouta was a bit concerned when he noticed you were actually shying away from the cameras. He had expected you to be more like Nemuri and embrace them, but for some reason you were maneuvering yourself so that you were slightly hidden behind him.

He caught your eye when your hands wrapped themselves in the back of his shirt. You looked cautious, on edge, like something would jump out and grab you at any moment.

“Can Hizashi get the cops to take him in?” You nudged your head in the direction of the villain.

At Shouta’s nod, you pushed away from him and started running from the scene. He was momentarily stunned before he yelled at Hizashi to stay there, and began to follow you. You had set a harsh pace, but you were still drunk, and your footsteps were jagged. You were stumbling occasionally, and once you deemed it safe enough, you stopped.

Shouta forced himself to a stop by your side.

“Why are you running?” He asked, the annoyance he felt at your sudden disappearance void.

Was there a reason you seemed to be so skittish around publicity?

“Public,” you mumbled back, muttering something too low for him to hear under your breath.

It sounded suspiciously like you’d said “Nedzu” but he couldn’t be too sure.

Shouta sighed. He hadn’t planned on running into you or Nemuri today. He’d been dragged all over with Hizashi under threat of sleep loss, and now he was stuck watching over you. Okay, seeing you wasn’t that annoying, but he’d never admit to being happy about it.

Just let him be grumpy, dammit.

The sheepish smile on your face though made it rather impossible. You seemed slightly apologetic, which was a step up from how you normally acted.

Typically, you teased him. Maybe it was a little endearing, but it was also very annoying. Slightly annoying. Kind of. A little bit. Sometimes.

Dammit.

He cursed to himself, taking a few steps towards you so he might help usher you home. It was the heroic thing to do, after all, and he was nothing if not a hero.

He stopped in his tracks, however, when a familiar voice spoke.

“I’ll take it from here, Aizawa.”

Shouta was appalled to see the principal standing there in all of his (short) glory, looking for all the world like it was normal to be in an alley this late at night.

“Principal?”

The bear-mouse creature didn’t look particularly pleased, but he held a jovial attitude nonetheless.

“Goodday, Shouta. Get some rest, you could use it.”

He had half a mind to be offended at that statement, but he was probably right. Shouta could always use more rest.

Still, he hesitated to leave. He shot you a look, surprised to find that you had the fear of God in your eyes. It seemed like Nedzu was displeased with you, and Shouta had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with your little display of power a few blocks away.

He decided he’d figure the puzzle out later, as Hizashi could still use his help.

He bid you both a curt goodnight, sparing one last glance over his shoulder.

You were terrified.

[oughtnots]

spn hiatus creations - week three: ships: destiel

They’re hunting a vampire, of all things, when Dean gets sick.

Just one vampire, alone and on the run, and mightily afraid if she knows what’s good for her. But she’s also a savvy vampire. She’s accumulated a stockpile of weaponry. So when Sam, Dean and Cas finally corner her in a ramshackle warehouse in southern Kansas, she shoots Dean with a bullet dipped in djinn venom.

Of all things, thinks Dean as he tips backward into sleep -

He dreams in fragments.

Separated from the djinn’s touch and intention, the venom doesn’t seem to work quite right. He’s not dropped into a world of happy-happy and sunshine. Which is good, Dean thinks at first, because he’s been through that once before and it was enough. He doesn’t want to see the hollow figments of people he’s lost, not again.

He begins to change his mind when the nightmares hit.

The world is empty of everything. Dean stands on a dark street as a cold wind blows past, biting at him. There’s a light on in the window of the house across the street, so he steps into the road, and then suddenly light is everywhere, blaring and hot, forty-years-in-hell hot. He’s in the middle of something he put away years ago, locked into a corner of his mind and determined never to touch again.

And then a hospital room, a blessed relief from the pain, but he sees Dad dying all over again and he can’t do anything about it. Other horrible scenes from his life flicker-flash past him in a tornado of hurt, failure, and grief. In between there are moments he can’t quite categorize, moments when the djinn’s magic works the way it’s supposed to and he feels something like home. They all have something in common, the same face with dark hair and blue eyes, but they flash past too quickly and then he’s into the hurt again -

He gasps awake, sweaty and with a burnt taste in his mouth. He’s in a beige motel room. The sheets are twisted around him and he feels hot, like he’s on fire. Sam isn’t there, but Cas is, and he grabs Dean by the shoulders, demanding, “Talk to me, Dean. Tell us what’s happening. Tell us how we can fix it.”

“Djinn venom,” chokes Dean, noticing a bandage on his shoulder where the bullet went in.

“We know, Dean, the vampire told us what it was before she shot you. Remember? We thought it was a bluff.” There’s an edge to Cas’s voice that Dean tries to focus on. It means something, he thinks, but he’s so far away.

He can’t marshal his thoughts; every time he tries to hold onto a sentence, it scatters to the wind. He notices that the angel’s hands are still on his shoulders. The touch is tender, almost reverent, as if Dean is fragile. He hates to think it, but maybe he is. He certainly feels fragile.

They stay that way for too long. Dean feels almost like Cas is the only thing anchoring him to the world, keeping him from drifting away into djinn dreams. Those blue eyes burn into Dean’s like twin headlights, like searchlights, lighthouses guiding him back to shore. It occurs to him that moments of tension like this are common between the two of them. Maybe there’s a reason, he thinks, not for the first time.

Dean blinks and forces himself to turn away, to stop making it weird. With an effort, he manages to put two words together: “Where’s Sam?”

He looks back in time to see something shutter in Cas’s eyes. The angel pulls his hands away, and Dean feels like he’s said the wrong thing, like he’s screwed up something that he never knew existed.

“Sam’s looking for a cure,” says Cas, and lapses into silence.

Dean wants to apologize for whatever he just did, but he feels flame leaping up inside him, and the venom burns away the world again.

Those blue eyes make their way into his dreams. This time it’s not a nightmare, not in the beginning, not when everything is beautiful. Dean sees white light and his hands on Castiel. His scarred hands on smooth, unmarred angel skin. He has vision after vision of his hands and wonders why he wants this so badly. What it means. In a feverish haze, he sees Cas smiling and he knows that he’s finally done something right, that all the guilt and all the responsibility can be lifted from his shoulders at last, if only for this one moment.

Then it falls apart. Dean sees Cas bleeding a hundred times. This is my fault, he thinks. He wants to cry. He wants to break. There’s something bitter in his mouth, burning his throat, and he wakes up -

Sometimes everything comes together at once. This doesn’t happen for Dean often, but this time it does, and as he wakes up he puts together all the pieces and fragments of his heart and mind over the last eight years and realizes I am in love with Cas.

There are a lot of considerations to go along with this. He blinks until the blurry room comes into focus and decides that right now he doesn’t give a damn about any of them. He sits up.

“Dean?” asks Cas, because of course Cas is there, faithful and constant. His face is haggard; a good amount of time must have passed since the last time Dean woke up. “Sam just left, he’s been trying a new medicine on you...Is it working?”

Dean checks his extremities to make sure they’re still there, coughs once, and says, “Uh, yeah, guess so.” He can’t keep a goofy grin off his face, knows it’s there and still can’t stop it. He keeps looking at Cas. His mind is going a thousand miles an hour, going over all his previous exchanges with Cas, all the moments when one of them looked a little too long at the other, and wondering if there’s something there. Between them.

A profound bond, you might say. Dean cracks himself up sometimes.

“...What is it?” asks Cas, a line appearing between his brows. “Are you alright, Dean?” Dean realizes he’s still grinning.

“I’m great, Cas. Freakin’ great.” He’s still dizzy with djinn venom and whatever foul concoction Sam forced down his throat, and he’s going to have some long talks with himself later about his sexuality and what the hell he’s been doing all these years, but for now he feels elated. He feels like the world is spinning just right.

“You’re recovering from a dose of djinn venom,” says Cas in confusion, “Why would you be feeling ‘great’?”

Dean winks at him. “Good company, maybe.”

Cas blinks three times and his gravelly voice cracks when he says, “What?” He actually seems flustered, and that makes Dean laugh all over again, even though the bullet wound in his shoulder protests.

If all goes well, he has a long time to build something here.

[evercharmed-a]

“Have you used a portal before?” Minchan asks the question like he doesn’t care much about the answer. The click of his heels on the pavement is distracting, a staccato in bright pink. He’s a lot to handle in the group chat, but even more of a handful in real life. Glittery eyeshadow and perfectly manicured nails, he’s a living doll, making mock kissy faces at every person walking by who dares to stare. A force of nature if Lysander ever saw one. “Hello? Are you listening?”

Minchan snapping his fingers in his face brings Lysander back to reality. “Um, what? Sorry, I wasn’t… “ With a huff and a quick wave of his hand, Minchan dismisses his reply. “It doesn’t matter, does it. I’m not walking all the way to Rei’s stupid forest. I’m not going to let my baby witch do it, either.” As always when Minchan uses this nickname of his, Lysander’s heart skips a beat. It’s one thing to read it, yet another entirely to hear it. And maybe it’s imagination, but something fond colors it, something soft. Lysander fights a smile, biting his lower lip hard. It’s somehow endearing, that particular brand of a handful Minchan is. He drags him into some alley, its dead end around a brickwalled corner. From his jacket’s pocket he pulls a piece of white chalk, and promptly begins to draw a circle lined and filled with odd symbols on the wall closest to him. Lysander watches in awe and confusion both. “Oh,” Minchan says, shooting him a grin over his shoulder. “It’s for the portal. You see, for some magic, we need preparation. Magic circles, sometimes little sacrifices, that sort of thing. It’s too advanced for you right now.” Instead of dampening his mood, this revelation makes Lysander’s stomach flip in joy. “I’ll… learn this, too?” “Of course!” Minchan finishes his work off and takes a step back, pocketing the chalk again. “You’ll learn this, and how to make potions... I might just teach you some conjuring, too. Just don’t go trying to summon some demon, yes? That never goes well.” Once again, Lysander only half listens, too entranced by the casualness of Minchan going about his business. He squares his shoulders and places an outstretched hand into the very center of the circle. As soon as his fingers touch the chalk, it springs to life, glowing a gentle white. Minchan pulls his hand back slowly. The circle lifts off the wall, sticking to his skin like a spiderweb. It hangs in the air, still connected to Minchan’s hand. Lysander’s jaw falls open. Of course, Minchan notices. “Neat, isn’t it? Wait until you see Qiaomeng doing it. He doesn’t even need a surface, just draws the thing in the air right away. Talented bastard.” He falls silent, eyes closed. The glow of the circle brightens. Around it, the air flimmers like it does in the hot summer sun. Lysander inhales, catching the slightest whiff of ozone. Minchan balls his hand into a loose fist, only his forefinger sticking out. He drags the pad of it down the length of the circle, and, little by little, it breaks open in the wake of his touch. When Minchan reaches the end, the chalk peels back in its entirety, revealing a swirl of muted purples and greens dispersed in a sea of endless black. It takes over the circle, stretching to about Minchan’s height. It stops as soon as it touches the ground. Lysander’s heart flutters in his chest. His arms break out in goose-flesh. “Wow,” is all he manages to press out. Minchan hums. “This is a portal. It’s like… a door, except it leads into someone’s home if that someone allows it. Rei isn’t a fan of it, but he lets us use one, anyhow.” “Why doesn’t he like it?” “A talented witch could trace this magic back to him. I’ll have Parfait erase as much of it after we’re done as she can, but there’ll always be some leftover in places spells were used. Rei’s mostly worried someone might have the idea to murder him in his sleep, really.” Lowering his voice, Minchan adds, “He’s got a bit of a reputation. The plants he grows are highly sought after, some impossible to get around these parts unless you want to pay a hefty sum. He has all reason to be cautious.” Lysander makes a little noise of understanding. All he knows about Rei is that he lives in a forest – magical and weird, as Qiaomeng had put it – and that he’s powerful, too. He should have asked more questions. “Anyway.” Minchan grasps him gently by the shoulders and steers him towards the portal. “It’s best if you close your eyes and keep your limbs pressed to your body until you’re back on solid ground. Got it? I’ll be right behind you.” Before Lysander gets another word in, Minchan pushes him. Everything goes dark. His stomach swoops again, but not at all in joy this time. He finds himself hovering in nothingness before he’s swept away. Like a tornado toying with a skinny branch, he’s scooped up and tossed about, a deafening roar in his ears. Static sticks to his skin, crawling across it in a numbing tingle. Lysander opens his mouth to scream, but no sound makes it out. A flash of green breaks through the dark. Lysander slams face first into a tree, its leaves shivering with the impact. “Oh. Oh, no,” a voice close to him says. Someone places a hand on his shoulder in cadence to a wave of nausea flooding through him. Lysander retches, hunching over. The hand moves to pat his back, all gentle. “There, there. Travelling with portals is never fun, I’m afraid. He should have told you.” He chances a look to his right, to where the voice is coming from, and is met with bare feet on mossy forest floor. Pressing the back of his hand to his mouth, he straightens slowly. Miles and miles of forest stretch out around him, trees and bushes and a little creek gently running its course. Birdsong fills the space, lined with the rustle of leaves overhead. Rei lives in a forest. This forest. “Is everything alright again?” the voice asks, and the hand disappears. Lysander nods absently. “Sorry, I… oh.” A young man steps into his view – the one those bare feet belong to – and gives him an encouraging, but small smile. He’s taller than Lysander is, his hair a warm shade of blond reminiscent of honey. Something about him is… off. His skin is too perfect, his movements just shy of oily. There’s a startling darkness to his eyes. Not human, his instincts scream at him, though he passes as one well enough. The portal buzzes. Minchan emerges with grace, touching his feet to the ground as though he were a cat leaping off the sofa. He beams at the both of them, the definition of cheeky. “I see you’ve already met our hermit.” The not-quite-human huffs, crossing his arms. A few heads of flowers peek through his hair, all varying shades of red. “Why did you let him go through it like this? It’s dangerous.” “Oh, relax. Don’t talk to me about dangerous. You grow flesh-eating plants.” “ – that never harm anyone unless I tell them to –” “Right. That makes it better.” The puzzle pieces click belatedly. “Oh!” Lysander says, clutching at his chest. “You’re Rei!” Rei turns toward him, wearing the same smile as before. “And you’re Lysander. I’ll get you something for the queasiness. Portals get to everyone the first time, especially if you’re not fully prepared.” He shoots Minchan a weighty look at his last few words. Minchan retaliates by sticking out his tongue. Rei ignores him. “Come, I’ll show you inside.” “Inside”, as it turns out, is a little hut hidden behind layers of what Minchan calls “glamour”. After a simple wave of Rei’s hand, it appears out of thin air, flimmering at the edges like Minchan’s circle had done. It sits in the middle of a fenced in, lush garden, a plethora of brightly colored flowers and plants. Some, Lysander recognizes, but others he’s never seen in his life. A walkway of grey stones leads to the entrance door, heavy looking and wooden. The door swings open on its own, or so it appears. Rei bends down to pick something up, cupping it ever so gently in his palms. It’s a tiny, albino hedgehog. “Thank you, Lilac.” Rei presses a kiss to the hedgehog’s forehead. The hedgehog makes a noise that sounds suspiciously flustered. “This is my familiar,” Rei follows it up with, showing Lilac to Lysander. “Say hello. Try to be friends. I’d hate for you two to not get along.” Lysander wrings his hands, staring at Lilac. Lilac doesn’t move, either, staring right back. “Um. H-hello. It’s nice to meet you.” Lilac raises his little snout into the air, and Rei frowns down at him. “What did I just say? Play nice.” Still, Lilac doesn’t look very impressed. He turns around in Rei’s palms before he vanishes in a shimmery flash of light. Rei shakes his head. “Don’t mind him. He needs a bit to warm up to someone.” Minchan mutters something about it being Rei’s own fault for never socializing. He goes ignored again. The inside of Rei’s hut is surprisingly normal. All his furniture is wooden or partly wooden, from the round table in the kitchen to the sofa lined with the plushest cushions and pillows to the TV stand. Herbs and flowers hang from every wall, both dried and fresh. The most outlandish item is the big cauldron in the middle of the kitchen, a fire lit underneath it. Whatever’s inside it bubbles gently, filling the air with a sweet, herby scent. Of all the cliched witch-things Lysander expected to see, this is the most accurate to his imaginations. Upon closer inspection, however, he finds that the TV and the kitchen itself are both highly modern. Rei even owns a gaming console. How and where is he getting his electricity from? Something tells him the answer will either be magic, or so mundane that he would have never considered it. A question for another day. Rei gathers them together in the middle of the living room and has them sit on the floor after pushing the coffee table aside. He hands Lysander a small pill and a glass of water instead of the potion he’d expected, and Lysander gulps both down. Apparently, even witches have a need for regular medicine. Perhaps solving everything with magic is against the rules. If there are any rules. He has so much to learn. “Did you bring the salves?” Rei asks, seated cross-legged next to Lysander. A few days earlier, Rei instructed him to prepare a couple of standard salves to put on wounds, ones that his job as a nurse has long familiarized him with. He’d told him to make them with the intent to heal, to concentrate on and visualize the process of a wound closing. So Lysander had done exactly that. And though he’d found himself tempted to test them, himself, he thought it more prudent to wait until both Minchan and Rei could ascertain their capabilities. If they had any special ones, anyhow. Lysander gives a quick nod, taking the two small, rotund plastic containers out of his sling bag. They used to be filled with store-bought skin care, serving this purpose just fine. Rei takes them with a grateful nod. One he hands Minchan, the other he keeps, unscrewing the lid. He tilts it gently in his palm so the light catches in the creaminess of the salve, making it glisten. He brings it up to his face to smell it, humming as he does. Whether or not it’s a satisfied noise, Lysander can’t tell. “They smell nice,” Minchan comments, tilting his container every which way like Rei had done. “Why’d you make him make these?” Rei smiles, that same, small smile, but there’s an edge to it. Smug. “Because I asked him what he’s interested in. Have you done the same?” Minchan sputters. “I – you know, it’s not like we can just jump into what he likes. He needs basics. That’s what I’m concerned about.” This playful back and forth is just as endearing as Minchan’s whirlwind persona. Lysander can’t stop himself from giggling, which earns him a wider smile from Rei and a noise from Minchan like he’s terribly martyred. But he’s smiling, too, unable to hide it even behind that huffy facade. “Well,” Rei says after a moment of comfortable silence, “I suppose we’ll need to test these.” He gets up and walks over to the kitchen to rummage in a drawer. What he pulls out glints silvery in his palm, and only when he sits back down, it becomes clear what it is. A knife. Vines snake around its handle, deep green in color. The blade itself is simple and two-edged, a small symbol etched into the very tip of it. Rei reaches out, takes one of Minchan’s hands and quickly drags the knife from one side of his palm to the other. Minchan yelps. “What the fuck?! Have you lost your –” Minchan struggles, but Rei tightens his grasp on his hand, keeping him in place. Blood wells up from the cut, beading along the surface. “As I said, we need to test his salves,” Rei says, his voice unaffected. He turns his attention towards Lysander, who has since frozen in his spot. His heart hammers in his chest, a new wave of sickness sloshing in his stomach. As used as he is to seeing blood, a warning would have been nice. Minchan struggles again, but it’s still in vain. He goes slack a moment after, averting his eyes. “I’m going to be sick.” Rei hums vaguely, still looking at Lysander. “Which one of them would you use for a cut like this?” “Um.” Lysander slowly inches forward to take a closer look at the cut. It’s not deep, something that would heal just fine on its own once its dressed. He picks up one of his salves, offering it to Rei. “This one.” “Well, go on then. Put it on.” Lysander blinks at him. None of this is what he’d expected of this get-together, but he doesn’t have the luxury to complain. Hesitating, he asks Rei for something to clean the blood up with, and Rei disappears again only to return with a damp washcloth. Lysander wipes the cut down, careful not to hurt Minchan too much, before he dips a finger into the salve, coating the pad of it with the thinnest layer. “This… might sting a little,” he warns as he gently rubs the salve along the cut. Even before he manages to reach the end of it, the cut begins to close. He and Minchan both gape at it, at the way the skin knits together on its own right in front of their eyes. Lysander finishes his job to watch the rest of it close, too, leaving Minchan’s palm pristine as if nothing ever happened. No scab, no scar. Nothing. “Holy shit,” Minchan whispers in awe, inspecting his hand up close. Next to him, Rei chuckles. “I knew it would work the moment you handed it to me. You must have felt that, too, Minchan.” Minchan, rubbing his thumb along the spot where the cut used to be, nods dumbly. “I… felt something, sure. But I’m not good at healing magic. I couldn’t tell it was going to be like this.” Rei wipes his knife down with the damp washcloth. It’s all a little much to take in – Rei being so casual, Minchan so shocked, this place and Lysander’s salve actually working. His head spins with this slew of information. Judging by the softness of Rei’s face, he’s noticed. He puts a hand on Lysander’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “You have a talent. Very potent magic. You’ll make a great healer one day, baby witch.” For the umpteenth time, Lysander’s heart skips a beat.