#moving eyes. eyelids. bawl.

[making-you-in-mc]

Rival Silver from Pokemon Heart Gold/Soul Silver

(Rival) Silver from Pokemon HeartGold / SoulSilver in Minecraft!

Vanilla Skin PNG:

[hannahbarberra162]

Under the Microscope, Part 10

18+ MDNI on Ao3

All the other chapters

One small invention has big consequences...

Ace’s knock sounded on the door - two short raps followed by a longer tap. From your spot on the floor, you lifted your head to peer at the door with puffy eyes and drew in a shaky breath. Your eyelids felt like sandpaper as you blinked away your tears before using your palms to swipe away the ones trickling down your cheeks. You could feel the heat of the red splotches that always took over your face when you cried and you wondered how long you had even been here.. The headache blooming across your temples and the stiffness in your neck told you that it had been a while since you’d started bawling when Sabo had left. You felt hollow without your devil fruit power and the seastone left you feeling as weak as you did on the Revolutionary Army’s ship. Your body had been robbed of all strength and you had been left a powerless husk on the floor. Your arms tightened around your legs as you did your best to ignore Ace’s knock in the vain hope that he would leave. The door was still locked anyway, it wasn’t like you could let him in even if you wanted to.

“Hey, you in there? Wanted to come see you,” Ace asked softly through the thick wood. You remained silent, sniffling again as your nose continued running. Where else would you be? You heard the turning of the lock and looked up as Ace’s familiar freckled face appeared in the doorway.

“How ya doing Sunflower?” Ace said, using his even stupider nickname than the one Sabo had given you. You silently raised your arm to show him the cuff on your wrist. Your forearm and hand were scratched red and bleeding from where you’d tried to take off the bangle. At first, you’d thought it was made of silver but the metal was much stronger than you anticipated as you banged it against the wall and floor trying to get it to open. 

“Ah. Not good then,” Ace said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you want me to patch it up for you?” You shook your head, your current predicament put the scratches at the bottom of your list of worries. The idea of being touched in this state made your skin crawl and his offer only soured your mood further.  Ace frowned at your lack of concern.

“Yeah, I mean, I did warn you that Sabo liked you. And he warned you not to run, so…” Ace trailed off as he sat next to you on the cool wooden floor, so close that your shoulders touched.  You didn’t have the energy to resist when he picked up your wrist and you let him move your arm freely while he inspected it. His frown deepened when he saw the blood dripping from the shallow cuts after he turned your arm over.

“Stay here, I’m gonna get the first aid kit. You scratched yourself kind of bad in a few places,” Ace said, getting back up and heading to the door. You didn’t bother trying to get out of the room - where would you go? Sabo was still around, you were still stuck on the island, and you didn’t have your devil fruit powers. Ace returned a few moments later and settled in next to you again. Opening the box, he took your arm and placed it on his lap before he began applying astringent to your cuts while he talked.

“You can’t - you’re just… not strong. I mean physically. You can’t protect yourself, you need someone like me or Sabo. I’m not saying it to be mean, it’s true. Not everyone can fight, and that’s ok. You’ve gotta stay with someone who can keep you safe, especially now that you’ve awakened your fruit. Who knows what would happen if the World Government got a hold of you? But don’t worry, Sabo’s gonna help you, get you in with the Army. You’re not doing that great on your -” You rallied your remaining scraps of energy at his words and snatched your arm away from him, intent on wrapping your wounds yourself. You weren’t going to sit there and get lectured about how weak you were by someone who had likely never felt that way themselves.

“Sabo’s not helping me, Ace. I was doing fine on my own until Sabo kidnapped me. Do you remember that part? I don’t want to join the Revolutionary Army,” you hissed at Ace. You knew your anger was misplaced but Ace was the only one you felt comfortable enough to bare your feelings to. You began rolling the bandage around your own wrist as Ace scoffed at you.

“Ok, yeah, Sabo took you from your base. But you know it was for your own good -”

“No, it wasn’t! Sabo took me on a whim! I get it, you both think I’m some stupid idiot who can’t do anything and needs others to take care of me!” you yelled back at Ace. It was infantilizing to hear repeatedly how you couldn’t take care of yourself, how inept and fragile you were in their eyes. You put your head back on your knees, tired of listening to Ace’s cosigning of Sabo’s behavior. 

“Go away, Ace. Unless you’re going to take this cuff off of me….just… leave me alone,” you said quietly. Ace lingered a moment but you soon felt the warmth of his body leaving from near your own. His footsteps led back towards the door but you didn’t hear the door shut again. Picking your head up, you saw him passing Sabo in the doorway, who was holding something wrapped in a blanket. You gave Sabo your best blank look, unwilling to show him any of the emotions you were feeling. In your mind, you remembered your Marine training and how to hide your emotions in the face of the enemy. Sabo wasn’t going to get anything from you anymore.

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Or an idiot,” Sabo said calmly, crossing into the room closer to you. He set his wrapped item on the bed and sat near you on the floor. Your back stiffened as you sat up straighter against the bed frame hard enough to feel the edges digging into your back.

“You told me that I was,” you said, trying for nonchalance but failing when your voice cracked halfway through your statement. 

“No, what I said was that you weren’t thinking and I stand by my statement. You let Ace convince you to undertake some hare-brained scheme he cooked up to get what you wanted. That doesn’t make you stupid, just desperate. And I can understand why you might feel that way,” Sabo said as he switched to sitting on the bed, his knees by your head as he looked down at you from his new vantage point. His hands were gripping the wooden bedframe near where your shoulder was. You stared straight ahead while Sabo continued undeterred as he always did.

“You’re worried about your family, isn’t that right?” Sabo’s voice was quiet as he put his hand on your shoulder. Your heart started pounding at his question - you couldn’t remember talking to Sabo about your family apart from the instance with his shoulder. And that was just that you had a sister, right? How much did he know about them? Still, you weren’t going to waste this opportunity to curry favor with Sabo. Maybe if he thought you were worried about your family he’d be more inclined to take off the cuff. It would be better than saying you were trying to get away from him.

“Um, yeah. I mean, I was sending most of my paychecks back home -” you started before being interrupted.

“Yes, to Hen and Chick Island. To your ailing sister, two young brothers, and working single mother. Deceased father. The Marines won’t grant pensions if you aren’t confirmed to be dead. That was your worry, was it not?” You glanced up at Sabo, who had you locked into his unnatural stare. You began biting your lower lip in place of your nails as he continued, your stomach turning at his words. You turned to face him, still sitting on the floor.

“I know about all of them. But you don’t have to worry, I had you listed as a working member of the Revolutionary Army and increased your salary. Your family has been getting more money than before though they don’t know the exact source,” Sabo continued with a smile that was as comforting as the shackle on your wrist. You thought your heart was going to explode from how fast it was racing. Did they know you were alive?

“How did - how do you know all that? About my family?” you asked, unable to hear much over the pounding of your blood in your ears.

“I know much more than that,” Sabo said, patting the bed next to him. You obeyed the implicit command and sat next to him on the bed. “I know every project you’ve ever worked on, every article you’ve ever published, every base you were assigned to, everything. Even your real name,” Sabo carried on, putting his hand over yours while staring into your eyes. “But now you can relax a little more, right? Now that you know your family is being provided for? I wish you would have let me explain everything before you did all that with Ace,” Sabo finished, patting your hand. 

“I’m always thinking about you and looking out for your best interests. Look, I even brought you your pressed flowers,” Sabo said, lifting the blanket off the parcel on the bed. Peering over, you saw the worn brown leather cover of your pressed flower album.

“How did you -” you said, reaching for the album as Sabo handed it to you. You ran your fingers over the familiar embossed cover as the memory of why you got it swept over you. It had been a matching gift with your sister when you joined the Marines. You wanted some piece of her with you and bought two identical albums with your signing bonus. You told her that the two of you could continue the hobby together from afar, as long as you each kept at it. Your hands started shaking again while holding it, something you sincerely hoped Sabo didn’t notice.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” you said in a small voice, looking down at the album lying on your lap. Your worrying about their financial state had been weighing on you heavily and knowing they were taken care of brought a small measure of relief. Your income being sent home meant your mother wouldn’t have to juggle three jobs to try and scrape together enough money for your sister’s medical care and the boy’s schooling. However, you couldn’t quell the unease that continued to twist in your gut at the staggering amount of information Sabo had on you. You thought you’d played your cards close to your chest but Sabo was two steps ahead of you the entire time. Plus if you were receiving money as a revolutionary, didn’t that make you one? You would need to do whatever you had to for them if you wanted to continue sending money to your family.

“You should thank me,” Sabo said, tilting his head with his eyes still boring into you.

“Thank you, Sabo,” you replied while fiddling with the fraying edge of the binder. “Thank you for bringing me my flowers and um, taking care of my family,” you said meekly while you did your best to avoid his stare.

“A proper thank you should include a kiss on the cheek, don’t you think?” Sabo said, his smile growing impossibly wider.

Sabo POV

Sabo wasn’t stupid, he knew that you had been trying to escape from him. But he needed you to see that there was nowhere to go, that there was nothing out there in the world for you without him. He wanted the best for you and your best choice was obviously him. How could you handle the Grand Line alone when your hands would start shaking at the slightest bit of adversity?  The thought was truly laughable; you needed him, even if you were slow to realize it.

He hadn’t wanted to put the cuff on you, especially not by tricking you into it. But what was he supposed to do? You’d disobeyed the few rules that Sabo had set in place, and Sabo loved you enough to hold you to his promises. You needed to see that if you disobeyed him there would be consequences, for the sake of keeping you safe. He knew it had set him back romantically, but keeping his word was more important. You were lucky he loved you so much he’d put aside his own needs and desires to care for you properly. He wasn’t going to keep the cuff on forever anyway. You’d be free eventually, once you came around to his point of view. He decided that when you’d been intrigued enough by the scientific experiments at the RA to want to work for them, he’d give you back your power for that too. 

He’d requested one chaste kiss simply to see what you would do. Sabo had thought you were a rule follower, someone who liked to stay within their limits, but your misadventures with his brother during his absence had shown that maybe you were a little more mischievous than he’d anticipated. You kept fiddling with the album he’d brought back for you while you mulled over his request. He had gone out of his way to retrieve it before burning your old base to the ground, killing anyone who had slighted you. Sabo didn’t think you would appreciate his act of chivalry, so he kept that news to himself. 

“It’s just a kiss on the cheek, it’s not like I asked to marry you,” Sabo said, rolling his eyes with a smirk. You looked like a wild animal caught in a trap with no way out - he could practically hear your heart beating from where he sat. Sabo almost felt bad but he deserved a little sweetness after what you’d done with Ace. Sabo tapped his gloved finger against his cheek in a silent invitation. Leaning over slowly, you brought your face close to his and quickly pecked his cheek as if it was burning hot.

“See? Not so bad, hm?” Sabo laughed lightly while running his knuckles over your cheekbones in return.

“Oh, and I have one more present for you,” he said, watching your eyes widen. Such a suspicious little thing, he thought, keeping his smile from showing on his face. The more time you spent together the less you’d have to worry about him, it would take time. Similar to how you’d grown accustomed to Ace, you’d enjoy Sabo’s company just as much - if not more. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a curled up leather belt. Extending his arm, he handed you the belt buckle first.

“It has an ‘S’ for Sunny. You know, since Ace took his belt back,” he explained as you turned it over in your hand. 

“Thank you, Sabo,” you said meekly before laying it gently on the bed. You leaned forward to give him another kiss on the cheek. This time Sabo turned his face at the last moment so your lips landed on his. He did it quick enough that it could be justified as a mistake, though it most certainly was not. He pushed back the urge to hold you in place and kiss you as deeply as he wanted, just so he could get a taste of the sounds you would make against him. Instead he let you back away quickly, a rosy red already spreading from your ears to your chest.

“You’re welcome, Dove,” Sabo said, outwardly ignoring the flush on your face while his chest was near bursting with the evidence of the effect he had on you. He was a little concerned about the blood supply in your body since it all seemed to be pooling in your face. He hummed a little tune as he promptly left the room, reminding you to gather your things on his way out. 

Your POV

As Sabo left you alone in the room with your face flaming hot, you heard Ace’s knock again. You looked at him, hoping that he wouldn’t tease you for your current state of disarray.

“Hey, can I come in?” Ace asked from the doorway, not entering without your permission.

“Yeah,” you said weakly, looking down at the belt buckle on the bed. It looked exactly like Ace’s except it was blue and had an “S” emblazoned on it.

“Sabo got that for you?” Ace grunted, nodding his head at the belt.

“Yeah, he said the S is for -”

“It’s for Sabo. He probably got jealous when he saw you wearing my belt and had to make his own for you to wear,” Ace said with a grin like Sabo’s possessiveness was all one big joke to him.

“Ace, it’s not funny. Sabo’s kind of…scaring me. I don’t know if -”

“Aw, relax. Sabo’s not gonna hurt you, he loves you. He just gets a little jealous sometimes. I mean, I understand. Everyone would, with a brother as attractive and famous as me,” he said with a grin and a wink. Despite your serious feelings about Sabo’s escalation, a soft laugh came from you. Ace could always make you laugh, no matter the situation, something you appreciated about him. You had a feeling Ace was not going to be receptive to your criticisms of Sabo anyway. Standing up, you walked over to Ace before stopping right in front of him. You were shorter, so you looked up and tried your best to apologize.

“ ‘M sorry I yelled at you,” you said to Ace while shuffling your feet like a child. Ace didn’t respond immediately and pulled you into a bear hug, your face close to his smelly armpit. Even so, you didn’t pull away. You were going to miss Ace a lot, he’d become a close friend. Well, one of your only friends.

“S’ok, I realized I said the wrong thing. I usually do. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Ace replied, still holding you in a hug.

“I know. I’m gonna miss you,” you said forlornly before breaking away from his hug. You weren’t looking forward to the sea voyage and especially not without Ace there as a buffer between you and Sabo. 

“It’s not gonna be right away, we’re sailing in the same direction for a few weeks, and we’ll see each other on the RA ship. Sabo told me Luf is on his way to Wano and there’s trouble brewing. I’m gonna go help out, see if I can’t find some of my old crew. I owe a….friend a visit there anyway,” Ace said with a slight flush coating his cheeks. 

“Friends hmm? Like we’re friends?” you asked teasingly. Ace blushed harder, giving you the answer you were looking for. 

“Uh, no. Not like our friendship. He’s uh..special friend. Really more like a boyfriend,” Ace muttered, moving the strings of his hat around nervously.

“I hope to meet him one day, I’m sure he’s wonderful,” you said brightly.

“He is. He’s Kaido’s son but he’s incredible!” Ace said with a smile so wide it closed his eyes. Somehow you weren’t surprised Ace would know someone like that, much less date them.

“I can’t believe Sabo gave you the key to my room,” you said, changing the subject.

“Oh, he didn’t. I stole it from him. ‘S easy, I’m a better pickpocket than he is,” Ace said proudly. 

“Are not. I let you take it,” Sabo balked, leaning on the doorframe with a crate in his arms. “C’mon, the ship’s nearly here. We need to pack up your things, whatever you want to take. I’m not sure if or when we’ll be back here. Kinda sad, I’m gonna miss Ace’s depression island,” Sabo teased, placing the crate on the floor.

“Hey, it was our depression island,” he said, gesturing to you. Sabo rolled his good eye at Ace’s dumb joke but watched your expression.

“Sunny, please get moving. I can’t imagine you have all that much here but please go through my things and bring what you want,” Sabo encouraged you. You nodded and started going through the closet, folding up the clothes you’d been wearing over the past few weeks. Going to the chest with the warmer clothes, you opened the trunk to grab some of the thicker sweaters. Sabo’s expression soured but he didn’t say anything as you packed sweaters and long sleeved shirts, familiar with the changing seasons on the Grand Line. It didn’t take you long to pack up the meager belongings you’d been using. You placed the album gently in the middle of your clothes, making sure it was protected by the soft fabrics. Sabo’s eyes flashed as you pushed the belt through the loops of his pants that you were wearing, tightening the buckle so it sat snugly on your abdomen. It was a perfect fit. 

Sabo looked over the room to ensure you hadn’t left anything you would want in the future as Ace grabbed his pillow and the quilt off the bed. 

“I thought you don’t get cold?” you asked, confused. Since Ace had been sharing a bed with you, the thin quilt had been more than enough to keep you warm since being near Ace was like laying on a hot rock in the middle of summer.

“I don’t, but Bepo made this for me. It has sentimental value,” Ace said, stuffing the blanket in the box. You took it out and folded it nicely, placing it on top of your album.

“I guess I forgot you’d know Bepo too. He made this? He’s such a multi-talented mink, I’d love to pick his brain one day. Did you also get to meet Penguin and Shachi?” you asked excitedly. 

“Yeah, they were super helpful during my recovery. Nice guys, if they weren’t Law’s crew I would invite them to Whi - I mean, my own,” Ace said, running his fingers over the quilt.

“How do you know Law and his crew? Did you meet them at Warlord meetings?” Sabo asked a bit too quickly, holding his metal pipe in both hands.

“No, I’ve never met him. Law often dedicates his scientific articles to his brothers. And everyone knows about Bepo. He’s the cutest pirate on the seas,” you mused aloud.

“Not me?!” Ace said with a pout. You booped his nose and smiled at him.

“No, not you. Bepo,” you said to tease him a little further. You heard the ruffle of Sabo’s coat whipping around as he left the room in a rush, his unusually loud footsteps echoing down the stairs as a whiff of acrid smoke hit your nose. Ace gave you a knowing look and took off after his brother, laughing as he bounded down the stairs.

Sabo’s POV

Sabo was gripping the wood railing of the porch so tight it was cracking under his palms. Sabo was annoyed with himself; he needed to get his emotions under control. He knew your interactions with Ace were purely platonic and they didn’t mean anything. But he’d realized now you and Ace had been sharing a bed and had grown closer than he’d previously thought. The man in question came sauntering out onto the porch before sitting on the already abused railing. 

“Don’t say it,” Sabo said preemptively, cutting off Ace from whatever bullshit he was about to spout.

“You’re pouting,” Ace said cheerfully. 

“Am not,” Sabo said, defending himself immediately.

“Yes, you are. You’re gonna scare her away if you don’t control your jealousy,” Ace said in a singsong voice, dangling his feet from his perch. Sabo knew Ace was right but he didn’t want to hear it right now. 

“I’m not taking advice from you, you never even told Yamato how you feel about him,” Sabo snapped at Ace. Ace pouted and looked away, making Sabo feel guilty. Being mean to Ace was like kicking a puppy, a dumb puppy. 

“You’ve got a second chance at life, you can tell him now. Go to Wano, meet up with Lu, Marco, Izo, whoever you want to. Help Luffy, he’s already an Emperor -” 

“I know, I know. I just wish…I wish Pops was here. He’d know what to do, he’d -” Ace said wistfully. Sabo moved closer to his brother and put his hand on Ace’s shoulder. 

“Ace, you know what to do. Don’t let his death be in vain. Go and -,” Sabo started softly, patting Ace’s back. The tender moment was interrupted by a timid knock on the open door. 

“Don’t blow it this time. Just be calm,” Ace leaned over to whisper into Sabo’s good ear. Sabo pushed Ace away. By the face. 

“I, um, finished packing. I put all the amoebas into a bottle if that’s OK,” you said in a meek voice while holding a glass bottle filled with water. Ace gasped aloud at your proclamation.

“All of them? In one bottle? Is that safe? What if something happens to them? Will they fight each other? Eat each other?” Ace said with complete sincerity. You raised your hand and shook your wrist, the bangle moving up and down.

“I can’t really tell right now,” you replied forlornly before handing the bottle to Ace for his inspection.

“I’m sure they’re going to be OK. Ace is going to go grab the crate and we’ll head out,” Sabo stated, pushing Ace back towards the house. Hopefully, he got the hint that Sabo wanted to talk to you, but with Ace it was hard to tell. 

“I have something to ask you,” Sabo began. You shifted on your feet and started rubbing your fingers against each other in an effort to self soothe. Sabo had noticed your hands had started shaking again during your earlier conversation though he hadn’t said anything.

“Would you like to take medicine to make you sleep through the first three days of the journey? This trip is longer than the last and we’re going to be sailing through notoriously rough waters. We’re equipped this time with more medical supplies for you, but I thought I would offer you the choice. The medicine will make you sleep but not unrousable in case of an emergency,” Sabo explained while you chewed your lip. You hadn’t agreed yet and were eyeing him suspiciously, but this was truly for your benefit. 

“You can think about it, but we’re sailing within the hour. I’d like to give it to you before we leave, that way you can just sleep through the worst of the sailing. I’ll have to keep giving it to you every 12 hours and you can decide to use it or not at each juncture,” Sabo said, reaching for your hands and holding them within his own. He had been correct, they were shaking. Running his fingers over the tops of your hands, he continued to try to assuage your fears.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you. Ace will be with us for meals, of course, I’ll be there, and we’ll check on you. I don’t want you to have to go through sea sickness like you did before, on Striker and the first time we sailed together,” Sabo said before bringing your hand to his mouth to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

Your POV

Studying Sabo’s face gave you none of the answers you were looking for. His idea had appeal, you really didn’t want to be seasick again especially since you had just recovered from being on Striker. Being conscious or not didn’t change your situation since you were just as vulnerable awake as you were asleep. You’d been unconscious around Sabo many times and he’d never done anything untoward to you - that you could remember. Even with Sabo pushing your boundaries, all he’d asked for was a kiss on the cheek. Taking a gamble, you made up your mind to just sleep through the first few days on the ship.

“Alright, I’ll take the medicine,” you said, not pulling away when Sabo continued stroking your hands.

“Excellent,” Sabo replied, his genuine smile showing on his face once more. Of course he was happy, you thought, you were agreeable to one of his plans. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, Sabo pulled out a capped syringe as Ace passed through the door, carrying the crate down the path to the waiting ship. The syringe was clearly from a Marine base, the familiar symbol emblazoned on the side. You idly wondered how Sabo came into possession of Marine narcotics but decided it wasn’t a question worth asking. You weren’t sure you wanted to know anyway.

“Why don’t you sit down on the couch inside? It takes a few minutes to work but not that long,” Sabo suggested, not waiting for your answer while herding you inside. Perching on the couch, Sabo flicked off the cap of the syringe with a practiced movement. “Ready? Small pinch,” Sabo said, grabbing your right arm. You felt a prick as the needle went into the muscle of your tricep and a small rush of cold liquid entered your arm. Sitting there for a moment, you didn’t feel any different than before as Sabo went to throw away the syringe.

“ ‘M not sure it’s working….” you said, already closing your eyes. Sabo chuckled as you lay down and curled up on the couch, ready for the journey to be over already.

~

You came to consciousness in bursts, confusion overtaking your mind as you tried to sort through the haze of the past three days. You found yourself back in Sabo’s bed, wrapped up in his blankets as the ship sliced through the waters. Bile was rising in your throat, though not as quickly as you’d experienced before, you probably had about ten minutes before you’d be throwing up. Thinking back, you tried to remember anything from the previous few days and could come up with only hazy memories. 

You remembered being woken to drink water and juice, throwing up a few times as Sabo held back your hair, Ace coming into the bed with you for a nap. You remembered violent dreams of being rocked back and forth, probably as the ship teetered through the rough seas. You remembered Sabo asking you if you wanted more medicine, already feeling the prick of the needle in your arm before you could fully verbalize that you did. You remembered dozing off while sitting on Sabo’s lap, your face nestled in his neck, his arms around you as he wrote letters. You recalled Sabo curled around your body in the bed, warming you as you fell deeper into sleep beside him. You remembered Sabo kissing your cheek and forehead, running his hands up and down your back to soothe you. 

Carding through your memories, you sat up for what felt like the first time in ages, stretching your sore muscles. Sabo’s idea really had been a good one. 

“Hi,” you said, your voice rough after not using it for so long.

“Hi yourself. Feeling better?” Sabo replied, coming to sit next to you on the bed. You nodded while peering out the window at the night sky. You didn’t know what time it was or even what day it was.

“Are you hungry? Dinner’s just being served. I can get you some and bring it here. I’m not going to give you any more injections but the last one isn’t completely worn off yet. You’ll probably fall back asleep soon.” Sabo offered while fluffing your pillows. 

“Can I get something to drink -” you started asking as Sabo handed you a cup off the nightstand. You drank greedily, gulping down the water until there was none left. Nothing had ever tasted as good as the clear cool water you were enjoying now. 

“Where’s Ace? I thought he joined the ship for meals?”

“He took a detour, he’ll catch up with us in a few days. There’s a small island nearby that he wanted to stop at for supplies. Probably for more food, too,” Sabo replied, rolling his eyes. 

Sabo POV

All good things come to an end, he supposed. Sabo had loved having you as a docile little pet for a few days. All of your hesitation, fear, and worry was gone under the medication, leaving you relaxed and calm. He loved taking care of you and helping you in your time of need as you fought through your seasickness. Sabo had been able to move you about as he pleased like a doll, your chest rising and falling evenly as you slept through the turbulent waters. He did miss your conversation and personality but having you so close was delightful in its own way. He didn’t do anything too devious, he’d kept his word to you. Only a few forehead and cheek kisses. And one kiss on your neck, but that was basically an accident as he’d been spooning with you and you’d turned in your sleep. He’d spent so long daydreaming about you when he was away, it was only fair to hold you close now that you were reunited. The trip was about a week longer - he had plenty of time to break down your walls before introducing you to the rest of the RA.

Sakazuki POV

Admiral Sakazuki was on his fifth cigar of the morning. He couldn’t stop himself, it was the only thing keeping him from burying his desk in a field of lava. His rage was so potent, so strong, that he feared he would irreparably harm his beloved bonsai plant if he stopped smoking. Sitting at his desk, he held the fourth copy of the photo he’d received from Shadow Island. The first three he’d burned, much like the man they depicted. Fire Fist Ace had been spotted buying meat kebabs from a street vendor, the scar Sakazuki had given him prominently displayed on his chest like a shield. His source had also revealed Ace had his Logia powers since he was able to fire up that damnable little boat and sail away from the island.

First your kidnapping, then Bayonette being burned to the ground, then Fire Fist Ace being alive and well. Sakazuki knew they were all connected, everything tying back to the ASL Brothers. If he could have killed all three of them at Marineford, he would have. He certainly tried and thought he succeeded with at least one. But just like his father, luck always seemed to be on the side of Portgas D. Ace. Burning quickly through the cigar, Sakazuki flicked the ash onto the smiling man in the photo, decimating the image once again. 

He wasn’t sure how Flame Emperor Sabo and Fire Fist Ace both had the Flame Flame fruit, but his intuition told him it had something to do with you. Your disappearance was no mistake, the RA must have found out about your research and seized you at the right opportunity. He needed you back, especially if you were able to replicate Logia fruit, something not even Vegapunk had been able to do thus far. Maybe he could have a Seraph of his own, another lava fruit able to be commanded at his word. Either way, you needed to be brought back to the Marines and away from the Revolutionary Army. 

Rising from his chair, Sakazuki picked up his snail and barked an order.

“Prepare my ship for immediate departure.”

Taglist: @mfreedomstuffm @epochal-oracle

[gosmigenergy]

KINKTOBER 2024 / (Delayed) Day Seventeen

SQUIRTING / DOM-SUB/ PERIOD SEX (@absurdthirst)

Starring: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F!Reader

Summary: It’s that time of the month and on the one occasion where you’re not really in the mood, Santiago thinks he has the perfect way to relieve you of your pain.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No use of Y/N, language, mentions of blood but I tried not to go into too much detail, period sex, P in V, protected sex (always stay protected babes)

Word Count: 3k

Author's Notes: I still wanted to post this fic even though I have had the worst four days, I may explain in a separate post but the universe has not been kind.

“Santi, are you sure about this? It’s gonna look…” 

Your expression scrunched, hands waving around as you tried to find words that didn’t sound awful. 

“You know…”

When he started seeing the telltale signs, Santiago knew your time of the month was coming.

You found the littlest things at work annoying and then, there were occasions where you only gave short, snappy answers before apologising profusely. To top it off, two days ago, you bawled at a video of a cat bringing flowers to their owner everyday.

Santiago was always good to you when you were on your period.

He’d make sure there were snack supplies, would still kiss you when you’d spent all day in goblin mode and called to check if you needed anymore tampons, never batting an eyelid at the cashier when he handed them over.

But this, this was too much.

“When you said romantic, I thought it would be a bath together, maybe a spa day.”

He smoothed out the blanket on the bed after promising that it could take what was about to happen to it — it was innocent, it didn’t deserve the horrors it will see.

“We can make it romantic,” he sauntered over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “We’ll light some candles, play some music.”

You purse your lips whilst making a noise of disagreement, hugging his sweater you wore closer to your frame.

“My flow’s really heavy.”

His warm palm came to your cheek, gently turning your head so your eyes could meet.

“All the more reason to try it.”

He wasn’t going into this blindly, this was just a new mission for him.

Researching online, he knew period sex could be fun as long as you took precautions and communicated. The endorphins could actually help with pain relief, your period blood may aid lubrication and he acknowledged that the pair of you may have to try a couple of positions until you discover what’s best for you.

This was all about you.

His thumb rubs gently, “Look, we’ll see where the night takes us, ok?”

You smile sweetly at him, leaning into his touch in response rather than words.

The two of you had an easy night in, ordering takeout and settling on the couch, Santiago even put on sweatpants which was a rarity in your eyes. After the short argument on the fact he does frequently wear comfortable clothing, he put on a film to distract you.

If only he could stop directing your attention to him.

You always had to snuggle to him on evening’s like this, you tucked under his arm and brought your knees up to rest on his widely spread legs. However as the light dimmed outside and you hugged your frame closer, eyes in front, you felt his hand shift.

The heel was still on your shoulder yet his fingertips started to dance over the curve.

The more you ignored him, the harder he tried to get you to notice him. He moved on from your shoulder, stroking his palm up and down your arm, a little squeeze so you nestled further into him even though you were almost in his lap.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he feigned his innocence.

When you looked up at him, eyes narrowing, he focused on the television with a smug look on his face. You sigh, attempting to watch the movie again but you’d already lost track so as his fingers came to play with your hair, you welcomed it.

Your head fell onto his shoulder and he moves to press his nose into your hair, breathing in the delicate scent of coconut.

You bring your hand to his, entwining your digits together, your other hand resting over the dull ache that was spreading across your womb. 

Santiago wasn’t the only one who’d done his research, you had considered period sex so many times, never having the confidence to ask any other partner. Yet here he was, offering himself and all your mind could pivot around was the mess, the possibility of additional pain.

You let out a shaky breath.

He loosens his grip when he senses you moving.

You shuffle, repositioning yourself before blocking his view. You’re unable to look him in the eye, nervously tucking your hair behind your ear.

He caught how your teeth grazed lightly on your bottom lip.

“If we do this, we keep the lights off…”

He nods, he would prefer to see your face but he understands, it’s going to be a bloody mess, quite literally.

“And if I say sto—“

He immediately grabs your hand, “I’ll stop.”

You weren’t quite sure why you needed some reassurance on that when he always did. Closing your eyes, you concentrate on his rolling thumb, how it follows the bumps of your knuckles in the rhythm of your pulse.

His features softened as you opened your eyes.

He always had such a hard shell, one that had been built with years in the field. Seeing what he’d seen, doing what he’d done, you would never fully understand but this was a side his comrades saw and luckily, you did too.

Straightening up, his hand continues to hold yours, coaxing you to follow him.

“I’m gonna freshen up,” you say the moment you pass the threshold of the bedroom.

“Hey,” he tugs you towards him, “not so fast.”

One arm coils around your body, hand flushed against your lower back, his other hand sweeping up your neck. His fingers comb through your hair before he gently pushes the back of your skull, guiding your lips to his.

The kiss is tender at first, subduing the worry that was building. Then he jutted his chin, his lips heavy as his carnal urges took over and you couldn’t find a way to stop your own.

You bring your palms to his chest, raking them over his shirt and feeling the outline of the muscles under his shirt. Your fingertips grazed the spot on the base of his neck and he moans, the vibrations travelling straight to your cunt, heat spreading…

Or you hope it is.

The sensation snaps you into reality and you try to draw yourself back, not before he nibbles your bottom lip, pulling gently as you part.

He lets you go, “Don’t leave me waiting too long.”

You giggle anxiously, the temperature rises in your cheeks as you hurry into the bathroom and lock the door.

Pressing your back against the wood, you steady your breaths. You weren’t sure why your emotions were playing with you the way they were, you wanted this, really wanted it. Except that little niggle in the back of your mind made you think you were in that percentage that found period sex uncomfortable, and you didn’t want to be that person.

Santiago paused for a moment when you entered the bathroom.

He brushed his hand over his jaw, noting how he’d already gained a semi just from the fleeting kiss you’d just shared. Then he got to work, he was determined to make this the best experience he could offer because, if all things go well, this could end up being a regular occurrence.

Once you’d gotten yourself sorted, you tentatively stepped out to see him perched on the end of the bed. The single source of light came from the lamp on the bedside table, refracting off the couple of condom packets he’d place on the bed.

His eyes roved your naked body even as your hands covered your mound, legs fixed together.

“Santi,” the heat rose, “don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not allowed to admire you?”

Not like this, not when you could feel a droplet of blood starting to run down your leg.

He gives a reassuring smile, “You ready?”

You practically run, hopping onto the bed next to him before crawling up the blanket. He went to say something about your enthusiasm until he clocks the crimson streaking your inner thigh as you lay back.

His hand at your ankle causes you to flinch.

“Querida,” his voice mellows.

“I’m sorry.”

He hears how your words shake, rubbing your calf in a soothing manner as he focused on your panic-stricken face. As he carried on, your apprehensions washed away, loosening your muscles so you sank further into the mattress.

“I’ve got you.”

The smile comes to your lips and he doesn’t need a response.

Leaning over, he take his touch from you as he turns off the light. He shuffles himself closer, his covered crotch nestling between your thighs, the outline of his cock brushing your sensitive bud. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from moaning.

His hand moves to the outside of your figure, following your outline. He skims over your breast and décolletage before he coil it around your neck. The tip of his nose grazes your cheek as he brings his lips to yours, kissing softly before putting some strength behind it.

He spreads his knees wider, opening you up as he fuses his free hand to your waist. Rolling his hips, his cock drags slowly over your fold, nudging your clit before falling back.

Your head tips backwards as a honeyed groan escapes you, allowing his tongue to slip passed your lips.

Your hands finally lift from the bed, holding his hips until you coiled them over his back and up his spine. He shivers under your touch, his purr rumbling in his chest as you push him closer to your body.

He tears himself from your lips and you gasp for air, your cheeks already flushed from the rising temperature between you. Unravelling himself, he straightens up, head cocking to the side as he searches for your features in the darkness. 

It’s like you can feel his eyes on you even though you can’t see him so you hide, arms folding over your face.

“Getting shy on me?”

“Uh-huh.”

He chuckles, your body couldn’t hide your pleasure.

Your arousal was pooling with your monthly flow, his briefs moist with a wet friction stiffening his length.

He brought both his hands to the swell of your breasts, slightly plumper with your period, and for his enjoyment, more sensitive. He barely squeezed them yet you whine as he rolled them in his palms, back arching into his touch.

“Santi,” you grumble sweetly.

He squashes your tits a fraction more, the next rut of his hips harsher.

“Fuck, Santi!”

Part of you believed he would be kinder to you, softer in his actions but this was Santiago Garcia, he always liked things a little bit rough.

He shushes you, “You’re doing great, querida.”

You were panting as his motions built, the desire in your belly swelling with the pressure. Closing your eyes, you can picture him with his dark, hungry eyes, jaw tightening as he focused on your folds splaying around his shielded cock.

And you knew exactly what you wanted.

“Santi,” you say breathily, “I need… need you inside me… please.”

You broke him from his trance, his hips stilling.

Suddenly he remembered why he was doing this, that he was meant to be making you feel better rather than inflicting some passionate pain. His hands relaxed and he bends to deliver kisses where there once was discomfort.

You sigh at the warmth of his breath.

He composes himself, he gets off the bed to take off his briefs, swiftly opening the bathroom to toss them in the sink. His footsteps come back, the light rustles as he picks up a condom and rips open the packet.

Pinching the tip of the condom, he unfurls it down his length.

“Want to try a different position?”

There was something online about having it so the cervix was positioned higher to stop it being uncomfortable or being hit.

You hum quizzically.

“Lay on your side.”

You follow his instruction, rolling onto your left, head glancing over your shoulder as the bed rocks beneath you.

He brings his body near, his hands dragging your hips so he can slide his cock into the crevice between your cheeks. After a few more strokes, he lifts your leg, easing his way towards your folds. He lines himself up before pushing the tip into your entrance.

You release a small grunt, your pussy clenching at the slight discomfort.

“Want me to stop?”

His hand caresses your leg.

“Just give me a sec.”

Your body’s reaction was to bring a strong wave of cramps, ones that would usually have you receding, clutching helplessly under your belly button. Your nails buried into the fabric beneath you as you inhaled, your digits loosening when you let out a long exhale.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” he whispers.

You repeated the steps, closing your eyes to focus on the sensation of Santiago rubbing your skin. The contraction gradually faded, being replaced with an aching desire that needed to be sated.

“Ok, I’m good.”

He places a kiss on your shoulder, dropping your leg.

With the increased lubrication, his cock pushes into you with ease, your walls stretching to fit around him snuggly. He sighed as he filled you out, wrapping an arm around your chest so your back was pressed to him.

He drew out without any resistance, snaking his other arm underneath your neck to prop your head up. Your eyes search for his, making out the faintest details, the nose edging down your shoulder to the crook of your neck.

The kiss comes as he rocks his hips, stuffing you inch by inch.

Your mouth falls open, a moan escaping as you sink further into his frame. He keeps his movements slow, letting you get used to the feeling of him inside you when your body was most vulnerable.

“I want more,” you whine, “please.”

He couldn’t deny you when you asked so nicely.

His thrusts picked up the pace, not too hard but enough to have every part of you come alive. You reached for the arm hugging you, coiling your hand around his wrist.

The more your juices spilled, the sloppier the mess came between your thighs and the noises were intoxicating. The squelching worked in chorus with your honeyed groans, your hushed profanities and squeals of his name turned his head to mush.

Santiago didn’t know whether it was because you were more sensitive but your cunt fluttered continuously, trying to hold onto his length.

Your hand released his wrist before heading towards your mound. It hovers as if you have second thoughts about touching yourself like you normally would, remembering that you may coat your fingertips in blood.

His own hand takes it’s place, a finger hooking up the hood of your clit as he presses with another. He smirks when you shiver, a hoarse groan turning into nothing when your hips squirm underneath his touch.

“Is that what you wanted?”

“Yes, yes, fuck,” your words get trapped in your throat.

He begins to rub delicate circles, listening to each sweet sound you make. Bringing his face closer, his nose prods at your cheek until you turn, your noses finally colliding.

You share the air he breathes, the heat sweltering as it rolls over your skin. It’s impossible to look for too long because even though you can’t see him, you sense his eyes honed on you, dark and unmoving. You whimper, screwing your eyes shut as you bury yourself into his arm.

The word still doesn’t come.

You were entering an ecstasy, the period pain seemingly cured, the ache in your core good rather than bad.

He knew you were nearing the edge, your legs vibrating first, your cries becoming desperate. His finger pushed harder on your tender bud, the shock waves rippling through your muscles and your hand locks to his.

“I know what you want,” he teases as he thrusts into you with force.

You release a single sob, of course, you wanted to come, every part of your body was screaming at you. However you knew Santiago, he fed off prolonging your release until you’re wrecked and speaking in tongues.

“Come for me.”

You let out a shaky breath, “But—“

It’s as if he presses a button, that single digit pining your clit down tipped the balance. You convulsed, the surge of pleasure reaching the tips of your fingers, the end of your toes. The blood rushed through your system, heart pounding as you threw your head back, jaw slackening so your mouth forms an ‘o’.

Your inner walls clung helplessly to his cock though he still worked you, helping you through your orgasm until it eased.

“Mind if I continue?”

You shake your head and he kissed your temple in thanks.

By the time he found his release, you had another as the aftershocks stoked the desire in your belly. The pair of you flaked out whilst he was still inside you, steadying your breaths until your chest rose in sync.

You moan when he decides to move.

“Stay there,” his fingertips graze your ankle as he heads to the bathroom.

He glances to his cock as the light blinks on, when his vision adjusts to the brightness, his one brow raises. It was clear where you had been, the scarlet stain covering the base of his cock and spreading over his thighs.

Easing the condom from his semi-hardened cock, he ties the end before tossing it aside with your underwear. He soaked a towel under a warm tap, cleaning himself off as best as he could, he needed a shower, you probably needed one too.

You were exactly where he’d left you. Covering your face, you didn’t dare look down, rolling over and spreading your legs for him to see.

“How bad is it?”

He chuckles, “You look as gorgeous as ever.”

You sigh when he starts to brush the towel against your skin, soft strokes as he cleaned your weeping cunt. It was embarrassing how much this turned you on, his measured touches making your toes curl.

His eye flitted down, the corner of his lips curling at the sight.

“Let’s jump in the shower,” he says.

You peek from behind your crossed arms.

“Will you fuck me while we’re in there?”

His smile broadened.

If you’d learnt anything tonight, he’d fuck you wherever, whenever you wanted him.

[seattlesellie]

knight!ellie x princess!reader drabble. ♡🗡️🕯️

an: since i’m thinking of writing a full fic of knight ellie x princess reader i wanted to know what you guys think ! let me know if i should turn this into something way longer. just a lil peak of the themes of a longer fic 💗

cw: mature themes, reader is a little lonely, tension.

the moon is so bright, so big, so white, luminous, it reflects in her emerald eyes and renders them almost mystical, bordering on the verge of the unreal. one couldn't help but wonder if she herself was not entirely real, a specter of dreams made flesh. do you recall those distant days of childhood? just eight years old, insisting that your imaginary friend — aurora, was right by your side? you clung to her like a lifeline. you'd shed tears as your mother, the reigning queen, denied the request for an extra place setting, an empty plate reserved for aurora alone. how you fell asleep bawling, tasting salt on your tongue, bitter and sickening, feeling as if you were drowning in your sleep, the specter of aurora growing gaunt and wretched, as though starved for existence.

how you woke up plagued by guilt, tormented by a high fever and a stubborn eye infection, crying and screaming for your imaginary best friend. and how from that day on, the castle fell empty. you wandered around, through those regal halls like a specter, floating like a brittle ghost, nodding politely when a maid curtsied in reverence, offering a feeble smile to the steward as he addressed you as his cherished princess.

you filled your duties, all your royal obligations, attended to your classes, spoke only when spoken to by your parents, ignored when another royal called you a “loony” when catching you in the midst of a conversation with several alabaster rabbits.

you formed a connection with the world around you, a bond that ran far deeper than what met the eye, and now one knew.

you rub on your eyelids with the back of your hand, and blink in dismay — oh, you’ve been mistaken, she is real, and her abdomen rises and falls with each breath, the clang of her armor a testament to her existence, to your sanity. her eyelids flutter, and her throat subtly moves as she swallows. a strand of her auburn hair sways in the wind too, but sweet aurora’s hair also danced in the breeze, so who knows.

sometimes it all is simply too blurry.

for now, you choose to believe.

the grass tickles your bare toes, you don’t laugh.

“hate being a princess” you mutter with a sigh, tilting your head to the side — her side, to see if perhaps she vanished like the rest of them, yet finding her there.

her role as a knight is dictated with silence in your presence, a mere executor of commands from your father with a duty to bow in submission, so she doesn’t respond. all she has to do is be your protector, keep you safe and guarded, make sure you won’t try and run once more.

she’s also not supposed to help you with your clandestine escapades from the castle, she’s not supposed to lay in the tall royal gardens ridiculously green grass with the princess, to allow the opulent and delicate fabric of her dress to gently brush against the barest portion of her knee. yet — she allows it.

she’s not supposed to help you pick flowers and greet you good morning, she was supposed to be unyielding as stone, almost ephemeral yet ever-present.

and now your ankle shifted to rest gently against hers, and she didn’t even nudge you.

“i despise it” you repeat. you try and voice your frustration but it comes off as too soft. ellie typically abhorred anything soft. she’d rather sleep on a hard mattress than a plush one, favored stomping over floating.

and yet you seem to be an exception.

you seem to be an exception for lots of things.

and ellie doesn’t respond. she blinks at the full moon and it blinks back at her.

“do you like being a knight?”

you think you may have heard a breathy chuckle. you’re unsure, you sigh.

“ellie?”

and she never told you her name. you figured it out by yourself.

then she begins, pink tongue folding and moistening her lower lip. “i like being your knight”, she blinks thrice, in a hurry — like she said something wrong, as though she feared she might have offended anyone else whose knight she was not. she takes a deep breath, for some reason it's shaky.

“i like, i- need, to protect the kingdom. it’s my duty. for the sake of your father, the people, you — you know that, my princess”

and usually you’d cringe when addressed with that title. you voiced it already — that title isn’t you, you don’t want it, it felt like a burdensome label imposed or cursed upon your birth, but for some reason, when she says it ; “my princess” it feels like her “my”, is the one that holds the power to cloud your mind. and that’s why you don’t argue that it isn’t your name, because she calls you as hers, and oh how bad you want to be hers.

you overheard the conversations among the other young royals, who spoke in hushed tones about "crushes." you eves dropped and furrowed your brows intently when they talked about the charming sable boy, a dark haired prince from a faraway land, an adviser. they described the feeling of having a crush as if they were “falling”, “giddy”, “thrilled”, “like riding a horse, really really fast”

and it never really happened to you, albeit you really did try. you just accepted it, you’d be crush-less forever, forced to marry a crush-less prince, forced to live a crush-less life.

then you met knight ellie.

it happened when she removed her bascinet, when she casually tossed her tousled auburn locks from side to side, when she smiled that sly smirk then immediately wiped it off and glued her gaze to the stone wall. it was in the way her eyes met yours, her all but graceful bow, and the sound of her armored knee meeting the ground, when she chuckled after winning the battle of who would be the princesses knight. how cocky she looked as her arm was raised in triumph, only to transform into humble grace when officially declared the winner.

but it wasn't a feeling akin to falling; it was more like crashing down. you also didn’t feel giddy, you felt nauseous and tight everywhere, you weren’t thrilled you were petrified, and you didn’t ride a horse really fast — it was more like being thrown off the horse and crashing onto the ground, nose-first.

so it didn’t feel like crushing, it felt like something else. and you really had to go to the washroom.

“you don’t… owe anything to the kingdom, or to my father” you murmur.

she really doesn’t. it got her family starved, killed. “i do” she lies, swallowing thickly. “also, i really don’t need protection” then you lie, rolling your eyes with a huff.

she'd call you a brat if she wasn't your knight, and if she knew for certain that you wouldn't go running to your father after being offended.

“i should run away” you muse, idly toying with the hem of your dress. ellie sees the bare flesh of your thigh and she feels like maybe she shall run away as well. then her breath hitches down her throat, and she really hates it because this isn't the first time. perhaps she's sick, a throat infection. it's getting very hard to breathe.

t'must be the armor, the decides.

then she decided it's not.

it's simply the cold night air. definitely not your naked thigh, or your hunger to be free, or the way your dress flows with the wind, or the way your eyelashes flutter and your fingertips tap tap tap on your plushy lips.

“should i fetch the horse then, my princess? which one d'ya want, charlie... or buster, maybe. he's a strong one” ellie croons then swallows a chuckle.

she’s also not supposed to joke with you. or to stare at your thigh, or to let you place your head on her armored chest.

“yes” you reply like she’s serious.

then a cloud veils the once-bright moon, and your knight clears her throat.

“i should take you to your room, freedom warrior, s’getting late”

“you shall take me to the forest to pick some blackberries, knight”

ellie chuckles and argues back. “i shall not”

“disobeying a royal?” you say with a wink.

you might actually be the death of her.

[resi4skz]

THE CONTEST (Pt 1)

Synopsis: you discover skz in 2023 and you life hasn't been the same. You enter a contest and your life takes an exciting turn.

Pairing: idol!Chan x fem!Reader

Warnings: none for this one!

It had been just over a year that you had become a STAY. And you had loved every new things about Stray Kids. To their smiles, their handsome looks, learning their names and who was the oldest to the youngest, and watching all of their music videos. You tried to catch up from their pre-debut but there was so much content to watch that you had to put a pause on the watching and mainly focused on the new content.

You also changed your twitter into a fan account, sharing, reposting and posting about how hot or cute the members were. You found their music healing, in a way because a year ago, you weren't in the right state of mind. You were mentally exhausted by life giving you shit, so much that you were actually thinking about ending it all. Even your life at one point.

Last year in April, you were crying one sunday early morning and decided to browse youtube because that's what you did when nothing else worked. You were going down the live broadcast list when someone caught your eye. 'Chan's room ep. 208.' A young man sitting on a chair with a black couch in the back, looking very handsome as he talked to, what seemed like were his fans. You immediately picked on the language he was speaking because of the amount of korean dramas you had watched.

You snuggled back into your blanket, his words of encouragement soothed your heart as you watched him through your laptop screen. Your eyes lit up as you heard him talk in english. And was that an Australian accent? You watched him talk about the next comeback him and his group will have, sometime in June. You were curious to find more about the group and luckily one of the comments displayed 'Stray Kids.'

You picked up your phone and searched for the name. Immediately, a group of 8 men popped up as one by one you searched each of their names to know who was who. And for some reason you went from youngest to oldest without realizing. So when you typed Bang Chan in the search bar, the same man popped up from the youtube livestream. "It's him," you said, flicking your eyes on the laptop screen just as he smiled and laughed. Your heart skipped a beat and it has never done that.

And then you watch as he stands up, saying 'big hug' hugging the screen. It tugged at your heart as he sits back down. "Bye stays, baby stays, see you next time!" He holds up a peace sign by his eye, does a winky face and clicks his tongue before the livestreams ends.

Fresh tears flow down your cheeks as a sob escapes your lips. That hug felt warm to you and yet distant which the thought of it now had you bawling your eyes out. You search up Stray Kids on youtube and start watching a bunch of videos.

An hour later, you were clutching your stomach from laughing so hard. How did you ever go about your day without knowing these boys? You even watched their music videos which blew your mind at each one. You went on your twitter and searched up the name and a bunch of posts about their upcoming comeback and where to buy the albums.

Your eyelids fell heavy and soon darkness enveloped your mind. This time no nightmares occurred, except a certain black haired man with dimples.

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

There had been a rumour going around that for their second comeback for 2023, they were going to be doing a contest for a lucky STAY (while others did fancalls). The only requirements was how many albums or merch you had of Stray Kids. But you had done neither which put you in a tough spot.

You had very badly wanted to participate but you were a 23 yr old trying to save up for a solo trip to South Korea. Maybe even scout areas for a permanent move. So far you had saved up about $2500 and planning to save up more. As for the contest, you had put your phone number down in the category of being picked randomly in case you got a call.

You were on your lunch break at work when your phone rang. Putting your sandwich down, you glance at the screen as it showed up a number you didn't recognize. "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Y/N?" A female voice asked.

"Yes, who's this?"

"This is Yu Won from JYPE."

You blinked. "Sorry?"

"You put your phone number to get licked randomly for a fancall and for the contest?"

"Oh my g...yeah, did I get picked?!" Excitement filled your veins.

"Yes. We would like to invite you for a fancall with one of the Stray Kids members and at the end of the call, you will be asked which option you prefer to do."

"Okay! Thank you!" You smile.

She gave you instructions over the phone plus sent you an email too. The fancall would happen after the comeback in November. It was end of October so maybe you didn't have to wait long.

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

You sat waiting patiently in front of your phone, hair in loose waves and light makeup. Your dog whined at your feet. "Nora, not right now, okay? I'll take you out later." Your dog, a golden retriever, laid down beside your feet. You rolled your eyes. "Okay, drama queen. Come on," you tapped your lap and she excitedly jumped in lap.

You look up and see Chan beaming, a smile on his lips. Your eye widen. "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't realize-"

"It's quite alright. I just came on and you were talking to your dog, I didn't want to disturb."

"Sorry, she gets anxious if I'm doing something that doesn't involve her," you nervously explain. You notice his hair was turning into a copper color.

He laughs. "It's quite alright. My dog is the same."

"I've seen Berry from your vlogs and she seems such a nice and obedient dog. Very cute."

"That she is."

"Just like her dad," you giggle.

He covers his mouth, giggling also. "Thank you for the compliment."

"Congrats on the comeback! I love all of your songs!"

"Thanks! Which was your favorite?" He asked, genuinely curious to know.

"Hmmm, if I had to pick, I nwould say all of them but if I had to choose, it would have to be Cover Me."

"Why that song?"

"The melody is quite soothing. Plus the vocals are top tier," you replied.

"Yeah? I think my vocals could use more work."

You gape at him. "Are you kidding? Your vocals are very exciting to hear! Those high notes aren't easy to do."

He chuckles. "Alright. I'll take your word for it, Y/N.'

Y/N. He said your name. It was like hearing it for the first time. Your heart tugged again and you mentally scolded your brain to shut up. "Ever been to Korea?"

"No. But I'm planning to save up for a solo trip!"

"Solo? Oof. That's going to be difficult especially if you don't know the language."

You smirk. "Dangsin-eun naega ihaehaji moshandago saeng-gaghanayo? (You thibk I don't understand?)."

"Oh, wow. Neohante yeogijeogi boyeojugo sip-eoseoyo (I would love to show you around)."

"That would be lovely but it's not happening anytime soon."

He nods and you suddenly feel bad. "Maybe next year I'll see."

You say your goodbyes and end the call and go into your email. You pick the "buy a plushie" option and choose wolf-chan. Smiling widely, heart content to the max you finally smile to yourself. Maybe life wasn't bad after all.

Your phone pings and without looking, you unlock it and you scream briefly upon seeing the screen.

XX-XXXX-XXXXXX: hey this is bang chan. I stole your number from my manager.

Y/N: did you just commit a crime?

You save his number as Chris.

C: i would never

Y/N: uh huh...

C: hey give me a break here :(

Y/N: are you....being cute?

C: is it working?

Okay. Who is this guy?

Y/N: .... are you the same bang chan I know from my laptop screen?

C: wait you watch us? 😱

Y/N: yeah, i do. 🤨

C: i meant it you know

Y/N: what

C: showing you around seoul

"Is he being funny or actually asking me out? Is that even allowed for him?" You wonder before typing an answer.

Y/N: right now, i'm saving up for the trip

C: well you have my number so just holla at me when you're here

What the absolute fuck?

A/N: this was sitting in my folders and thought why not? Hehe. Pt 2 may be delayed by whole lot as I'm working of 4-5 stories at a time. But do lemme know how ya'll like this one?

[mrsnancywheeler]

Sometimes when I be bored I think about Finnicks reaction to finding out his sweet girl is being forced into prostitution. Boy would be broken

no this is so real bc I also imagine the most angsty situations whenever I'm slightly bored which is why I write what I do lmao

tw talks about trafficking

but like imagine like you don't want to tell finnick about because he's already struggling and you want to comfort him without him worrying about you. so you bear the weight of it all alone until you can't anymore. you're able to say trips to the Capitol alone are for interviews with ceaser or to entertain the Captiol with whatever talent you've chosen, which is true except you're also being forced to entertain in other ways. and marks or bruises can only be explained as a fall or brushed off so many times before they become suspicious. and finnick notices that sometimes you just don't feel there anymore, like you've left your body, but the moment he brings it to you snap back into being comforting, happy, and supportive. finnick probably knows deep down before he actually comes to terms with it and when he does he's so broken up about it. why you? why didn't you want to tell him? how did he not notice ever sooner? what can he do for you?

and one night you're just laying in bed, he's been staring at the page of a book, but not focused on it. he's too busy fully realizing the truth and there you are laying down, staring at the ceiling, completely gone.

"Snow's selling you isn't he?" Finnick would ask it in the quietest tone and he's trying not to cry because you're his sweet girl, so loveable and soft, and now the Capitol is using you, breaking you down.

And he knows it's true when you just stare back at him, eyes so sad and a little shocked he figured it out. then you're both just staring at each other untill you're both bawling. and finnick is holding you like he's terrified to let go.

"why didn't you tell me?" he's mumbling out between choked sobs

"you just already have so much, I didn't want to add to your plate" and you're just so worried about him and he hates it and loves it

"I'm supposed to help you too, not just you with me. do you understand?" and you're nodding, saying you're sorry, and he's telling you it's okay

AND ON THE FLIP SIDE

finnick's girl, his sweet, gorgeous love, who recently won her games coming to finnick and telling him snow is planning on selling her

like you're all solemn and nervous, playing with your fingers and trying not to cry. finnick is so confused about the silence and what's going on so he's racking his mind to see if he did something.

and eventually with a shaky voice and tears on the brim of your eyelids you're like, "snow's going to sell me" and finnick's world comes crashing down

he's supposed to keep you safe which he already nearly failed at when you were reaped and almost died in the arena. "no, I'll talk to snow, I'll just take more, I can do it, I can handle it. not you, sweet girl, they can't have you." and he's just a wreck of tears trying to scramble for the next move in the chess game of the Captiol

"finnick, you're not going to do that." and your voice is still so soft, hands on his arm . "you can't do more, I can, and I'm popular right now"

and finnick's trying to insist, but you're hushing him as you cry until you start to really sob and crumble in his grasp so he's back in alert mode. stroking you hair, telling you he's got you, that things will turn out okay

anyways yeah a couple long thoughts I had about this, sorry lmao

[thisisxli]

𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫. - 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐁.

Rs: Pro! Katsuki Bakugou x Pro! GN Reader(afab)

Warnings: manga spoilers, ANGST, grief, slight panick attacks, MAJOR character death mention(not canon but is canon..), heart break

Tags: bittersweet, different circumstances, reader is kind of a crybaby but for good reasons, time/dimensional travel, reader is hopelessly in love with him + will hopelessly be stuck on him for the rest of their life, Katsuki is equally or more in love, reminiscing, everyone is in their early 30s

Summary: Being hit by a quirk is one thing. But to be sent to another universe is absolutely bewildering. It starts to become heart-wrenching when someone you once knew as dead is now alive in this alternate universe.

wc: 1.1k

Recommended song:

a/n: if you enjoy this work, check out the others in my Masterlist. :)

Being hit with a quirk usually didn't phase you, it was rather common for you.

But to be sent to a whole other timeline- or rather... universe? You knew it was the same timeline but different universe. Why? Because Katsuki Bakugou was standing right in front of you- with another you holding his hand, both staring at you in surprise. In fact, it wasn't just them. But other old classmates from the high school you used to attend. Shocked faces as the other you ushers them out the room. You couldn't move your gaze away from Katsuki at all. Because the Katsuki you knew was dead. To see him standing, more mature, a grown man ridden with scars has you bawling rather quite embarrassingly.

"Hey! Who the hell- wait no.. What-" Katsuki's head turns to you and the other you aggressively, confusion and agitation growing into his face. Before he could blow at your crying figure, the other you steps up in front of you, hands held up in defense. "Katsuki! Don't.. resort to that. Let's be calm and rational.. Let's.." The other you turns to you, a worried expression displayed on their features. "Let's just talk."

And so, that's what you did. You explain how you were in the middle of battling a villain just before you got hit by their quirk. Kirishima and the other pros must be worried about you right now.

"And... Bakugou," your breath hitches, eyes flickering to him for a second, "in my universe.. You died. You died in the war from All For One... or rather, Shigiraki." Katsuki stiffens at the mention of that familiar yet foreign name. So did other you. The... other Kirishima rubs your back soothingly. "Edge-shot wasn't able to repair your heart.. it.. it- after you died, I couldn't- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you mutter, bowing deeply at his feet as you squeeze your eyes shut tight, tears escaping through and past your eyelids. Your breathing rapidly increases which Katsuki quickly picks up before Kirishima does, grabbing you under the arms gently, lifting you up to sit back to your position. The other you seemed almost heart-broke at the thought of dead-Katsuki, sharing their sympathy.

Katsuki was silent the whole time, a calm expression on his face. You barely saw that back in high school. You wonder how he is at this time of age.

"Kiri, let's go," the other you urges, waving a hand at Kirishima. They give you a soft smile before walking off and out the room with the red spiky haired man. You and Katsuki sit there in silence, a few silent tears escaping your face at the view of your.. dead crush/classmate? You didn't even know anymore. "Stop your crying," Katsuki scoffs, closing his eyes. You blink at him. Seriously? Maybe he was still the same- "I hate seeing you cry," he looks into your eyes, raising his hand to your face to wipe a tear with his thumb, "it makes me upset." Wait- woah. Were.. you two together?

You blush heavily, wrinkling your pants when you tighten your hold on it. He notices of course, waving your hand away. "I don't know if you're just realizing we're together," wow. He reads you like a book. "But if you are just now realizing it, you need to get that brain of yours checked."

Same old, same old. You snort before laughing, earning a soft scowl from him. "Tell me.." Your laughter dies out, tilting your head to listen, "how is it like.. without me there?" You blink at him, smile dropping quickly. "Well.. It's... empty, at least for me, always has. A lot of us are doing fine there, it's like.. you never existed," his face turns sour from that, "but you are brought up time to time.. and we celebrate the day you died- not that we're celebrating that you died! But.. you were honestly," you look up at him with adoring eyes, "one of the greatest heroes of all time. So we felt the need to celebrate the day of your self-sacrifice."

Katsuki looks at you, unable to comprehend on how to respond to that. Luckily, when nothing comes to mind, you ask him a question, "how did.. we..? How did you.." He chuckles, running his scarred hand over his hair. "I confessed first, if that's what you're asking. We started dated in our second year and have been ever since," his eyes avert down to the golden ring on his finger and your eyes also follow, "and we.. got married. about six years ago."

You look up at his face, his face contorting into a softening loving look. You never seen this side of him before at all. Your feelings that you never lost for the boy, now man, seems to grow a little more.

You both flinch when a weird swooshing sound comes from behind you, a portal comes into your view when you turn. Out pops is a way much more familiar red spiky haired man. "(Y/N)! You-" suddenly his voice breaks and stops working, staring at the grown blonde man in front of you. "Bakugou," Kirishima breathes, tears seeping from his tear ducts, threatening to fall. Now it was time for you to cry. You shake your head violently, jumping into Bakugou's arms, catching him by surprise. "N-no! I don't- wait please! I don't want to go yet! Not yet, not yet! Please- Katsuki! I have so much to say- so much to ask! Please-" Katsuki kisses you in an open mouth kiss, hands gently caressing your face and hair.

Heat rises to your cheeks as tears fall, his warm lips detaching from yours. "That always works," he chuckles softly, looking up at Kirishima with a fond smile before looking down at you with his piercing eyes that held so much love, the same you held for him. "(Y/N), I am so, so sorry that I'm not there. I really am, for everybody. If you had more time, of course I'd answer anything you'd ask. But let me tell you this," he gently pecks your forehead gently, as if on cue, the other you walks in with a small Bakugou clinging onto their leg. Your lip bobbles at the sight. "I love you. I always did, have, and will," Bakugou wraps his arms around you, smiling at the now-crying Kirishima from your universe. Even with Katsuki's voice being so soft, his voice still remained so gruff. His voice was like hearing music for the first time in years. Something you hadn't heard in years.

Before you step through the portal, you look back at the happy family, all three smiling at you. You smile back, feeling a little bitter that you couldn't have this ending. But nonetheless, you were happy that another part of you still got this ending. You felt closure. Now that you know that he still survived from the war, you were a little happy.

Only that it was just from another universe. Not yours.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and worst of both worlds (part 35)

Tw: not that i know of for now, short chapter its basically just fluff between Yves and you

Part 36

You woke up to hushed whispers. You deduced that it was between your nurse and someone else.

Your arm moving up to rub your eyes silenced them. Soon after, a shadow loomed over you. The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge of your bed.

Only when your bleary eyes opened did he say something.

"Hello, my beloved (name)."

Yves's ethereal countenance appeared before you. His raven black hair received a refreshed blowout, looking healthier, shinier, silkier and bouncier than ever. He was donning an adoring smile while he had his arms stretched out, his nails weren't painted crimson, but it was neutral pink with ivory french tips.

You blinked multiple times before shooting up to give him a big squeeze. You buried your head in his hair, greedily taking in his scent that now smelled of lavender. Not overpoweringly so, but undeniably pleasant and comforting.

"Oh, how I missed you..." He murmured in your neck before giving it a light kiss. His almond nails carded your hair, sending tingles down your spine.

Yves is gentle. So gentle. His touch is nothing like that monster's, it felt... purifying, cleansing and safe. You know that you will never cry out of pain and agony from his love.

But you're shedding tears onto his expensive, cashmere blouse. Sobs were muffled by his shoulder as you pour your gratitude out through your eyes. You're happy that he's back, you missed him too.

Your fingers gripped onto him tightly, causing temporary wrinkles and twists. Yves didn't mind, all he did was hold you tighter and soothingly rubbed your back.

Yves lets a stray tear slip out of his eye and no more. It landed onto your hospital gown and left a small stain that spread for a bit. He's elated to kiss you, to smell you, to hold you again.

You kept shuffling deeper and deeper into him as if you were trying to merge flesh. Yves understands that you're subconsciously trying to hide from the world, his heart skipped a beat when he realized that your brain sees him as a safe haven to do so. That is why, he wasn't bothered in the slightest that you were suffocating him. He can handle it, he needs you not to worry.

However, he had to pull away momentarily when your crying wasn't showing signs of stopping or slowing down. He held your puffy, blubbering face in both of his soft hands. You're now hiccuping and hyperventilating due to overwhelm.

"(Name), that's enough now. I will not be leaving anytime soon." He wiped the tears away from your eyes with his thumb. "You will suffer from a headache if you cry too much."

His tranquility wasn't enough to stop you from bawling, you gripped onto his sleeve tightly. Yves scoots a bit closer and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

He cupped your right eye, blinding it while he left your other one uncovered. You were caught off guard by this strange move, your heart rate slowed and you eventually breathed normally without tears dripping down your chin. There were a few sniffles here and there, but the warmth of his palm onto your eyelid miraculously calmed you down immediately.

He released his hands from your head and went ahead to retrieve a packet of facial tissues from his brand new opulent handbag. It's of course, black in colour. But it has a different structure, gold accents and material.

You looked at him quizzingly, wondering what he just did to hack your brain. All Yves did was smile and praised you.

"Well done, my love." He lovingly dried your face with the tissue. You had no idea what he was praising you for, but you're not complaining because it made you feel fluttery inside.

You noticed the nurse has given you and him privacy, allowing you to be as shameless with him.

You basked in his rapid shower of kisses, enjoying the unconditional attention and affection while he covered you in his rouge lipstick prints. You closed your eyes and smiled as he did all the work, your body slightly rocking back and forth for every kiss he gave.

In the end, Yves had to forcefully restrain himself from giving more. He wouldn't want history repeating itself again. However, his anxieties were quelled when he saw that you were glowing in contentment once he's done.

"M-my apologies, dear. Y-you look..." He tried to contain it, but he laughed gleefully in the end. You looked absolutely adorable with thirty-two pairs of lip prints on you. Yves couldn't even complete his original sentence, he could only pull you into another hug and nuzzle his nose into your hair.

He lets out an extremely hushed, almost inaudible squeal before pressing one last kiss on the crown of your head.

You let yourself jellify in his arms, taking in all the love, affection and attention that you've been owed for the past five days.

"I brought you souvenirs." He mumbled lowly on your head.

You waited for him to present it to you.

"...But I want to hold you for longer. Will you please grant me the pleasure?"

You said yes. To which he replied with another kiss on the temple.

"Thank you, (name)."

Yves slipped his feet out of his black heels before laying on the bed with you, tucking himself under your blanket and trapping you with him. He was careful not to affect your leg cast and bandages.

You snuggle into his chest as he envelopes you in his warmth, creating a bubble of protection. You felt safe, secured and most importantly, at peace.

His unyielding embrace reminded you that there is someone that you could always retreat to in times of need. And that is Yves.

"I love you."

He whispered before resting his chin on the top of your head. He ran his nimble fingers through your hair.

You grinned and relaxed into him, feeling unburdened with the events that happened over the past week.

[jungkookslipring]

standing with you

Summary: the day after the election took an emotional toll on you, but your best friends are there to hold you in the midst of the chaos.

TW: mentions of the election, anxiety, crying. This is how I was feeling the day after everything went down.

Pairings: gender neutral reader x Hyunjin, Felix and Seungmin

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, AU

PSA: this is not a direct reflection on the artist or artists mentioned in these fics.

This fic/title is based off the song "Standing With You" by Guy Sebastian

The past couple of days leading up to the dreaded day passed much quicker than you had hoped. You didn't want to assume how it would all unfold, but the uncertainty was eating you alive. As midnight approached, you refused to look at the votes any longer, opting instead to distract yourself by watching YouTube videos until the heaviness of your eyelids took over.

The next morning felt wrong. The air in your room was thick and heavy, and without checking your phone, you just knew. You got the dreaded text from one of your best friends out of town, sending you the final poll. There was no way, but it was all right there on your screen. You set your phone down, and stared at the ceiling, letting the tears roll down your cheeks. You didn’t want to feel the emotions that you and so many others were experiencing at that moment, but everything inside you was overwhelming. There seemed to be no point in trying to mask it.

There was a knock at the door, but you couldn't respond. It wasn't that you didn't want to; you were just too busy trying to comprehend why this had happened.

"Y/N, are you awake?" you heard Hyunjin say on the other side of the door, and that somehow made the tears roll faster and heavier. A sob unexpectedly escaped your lips, and you were no longer staring at the ceiling but rather covering your face with both hands, your eyebrows pinched painfully together.

"Honey, can we come in?" Seungmin asked.

You weren't sure who made up "we," whether it was two or eight of them, but you lacked the energy to speak up.

"We won't come in if you want your privacy, baby, we just want you to know we're here," came another voice. It sounded like there were more than two people, and they were waiting for your permission, and that made you start bawling.

"Please, please, I-" you didn't know what you were pleading for. Hugs? Change? Both? You took a deep breath and whispered.

"I want a hug please..."

The door swung open and three of the guys moved urgently into your room. The first one to embrace you was Hyunjin, wrapping his arms around you when your teary eyes met his.

"Oh bug..." he whispered as he held you close. The tears you shed, filled with fear and sorrow, were now mixed with tears of relief. You felt comfort in knowing that they were there for you, that they loved you, and that nothing would ever change that. Seungmin climbed to the other side of you and wrapped his arms around both you and Hyunjin, kissing the top of your head. Felix took one of your hands in both of his and kissed it repeatedly.

"I am so so sorry, y/n" he whispered, not knowing what else to say, knowing this was a very scary situation, and no amount of words of wisdom was going to fix it. You cried into Hyunjin's shoulder while your hand gripped Felix's and your other hand found Seungmin's that was laying on Hyunjin's shoulder.

"We won't pretend that we understand what you're going through, but I hope you know that we stand with you no matter what. We got you and we love you, y/n," Seungmin said confidently. He didn't say everything would be okay, nor did he try to tell you to "look on the bright side." He didn't attempt to make you stop crying or offer any false hope. He understood that the uncertainty was affecting you and many others, and that was why he wanted to show his love in any way he could. He lay down beside you on your bed, allowing you to cry it out and comforting you with kind words.

"We love you so much"

"Let it out, y/n, let it all out"

"You are so loved, baby"

The comfort you were receiving was too much that you were almost wailing, enough for the guys to have to blink back the stinging behind their eyes.

"What can we do for you love?" Felix asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You didn't have an answer, because you didn't know what would make you feel better.

"Do you want to stay in? We could order your favorites and watch movies?" Hyunjin asks. Tears welled in your eyes, causing Hyunjin to let out a sad chuckle and kiss your head.

"Our sweet y/n, we love you so much," he said with so much love in his voice.

"I love you all too," you sniffled. The four of you stayed that way until you were steady enough to get up on your own and for everyone to move to the living room. You couldn't say you didn't have moments after that morning where your worries eased, and tears subsided, but having your best friends as allies was all you could ask for.

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

My dms are open if anyone needs a safe space

taglist: @felixmainacc @itzsana-kiddingmenow @dunno-wut-to-do @myforevermelody143 @kangaroosmile

[inner-sakura]

the law of equivalent exchange

Fandoms: Miraculous Ladybug Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Categories: F/M Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug,  Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Summary: 

In one world, a wish is made.    

Yet for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. And a price that must always be paid.  

[’Tuesday, Ladybug thinks, is a very arbitrary day to die.’]

[canon divergent, not season 5 compliant. angst. major character death. author makes questionable use of The Wish mechanics.] 

i wrote this instead of sleeping. it can probably be generously called conceptual.

-x-

Tuesday, Ladybug thinks, is a very arbitrary day to die.

Not that she’d ever given much thought to which day of the week would be her last, per se. But as she lays there, blackness slowly creeping into the edges of her vision, she can’t help but ruminate; her mind flitting from one thought to the next as though trying to cram as much material into as little time as possible.

It’s not like she can do much apart from sit there and think, anyway. She’s completely lost feeling in her legs now, numbness replacing what used to be a world of sensation. Even if she wanted to move, it’s simply not an option anymore.

Besides, she lost the taste for it fairly quickly upon realizing just how painful moving could be when your insides have suddenly become outsides.

So she sits, and she thinks, and she waits to die.

She’s in the process of contemplating the simple majesty of a cloudless blue sky when blackness fills her vision, followed swiftly by gold and green and–

“Oh hey, kitty,” she smiles, and then immediately regrets it when she begins coughing, the greeting aggravating her already angry throat. When she finally stops, her lips are damp, and she doesn’t need to look at Chat’s stricken expression to know that her mask isn’t the only streak of red on her face anymore.

His hands are heartbreakingly gentle as they lift her, cradling her broken body against his trembling chest.

Chat’s voice is so low it’s nearly inaudible.

“No no no no no,” he mutters, the mantra he’s been repeating almost from the moment he landed beside her. The single syllable carries with it a well of desperation far too deep for such a simple two letter word.

“This can’t be happening,” he says, speaking more to himself than to her. Even though her eyes are having a hard time focusing, she can tell when his gaze zeroes in on hers; can feel his resolve crystallizing in the air between them. “Tell me what to do, my Lady. Where’s your Lucky Charm? We have to fix this, please.”

“Gone,” she rasps, the word leaving her with difficulty. “Bro–ken–” Useless now, she wants to add. Monarch made certain of that.

She has to stop there, though, because her vision is going spotty the longer she tries to speak and she has so much she wants to say and so little time left to do it.

Chat lets out a mournful noise like that of a wounded animal, his hands gripping her shoulders desperately.

“No, there has to be another way,” he all but wails, leaning over her until all she can see and feel is black leather and devastation. He presses his forehead to hers, each of his tears burning hot against her clammy skin.

“I’m sorry,” she mouths against his ear, trusting his enhanced hearing to pick up her nearly voiceless plea. I’m sorry that I’m going first. I’m sorry that we couldn’t win.

I’m sorry that I’m leaving you alone.

Chat is openly bawling now, his body wracked with sobs that jostle her in a way that would have probably been painful, if she could feel anything anymore.

But the only thing she’s feeling at this point is increasingly sleepy; her eyelids weighted down with all of the failures she’s experienced in her nearly sixteen years on this planet.

I love you, she wants to tell him, but her throat won’t cooperate, her lungs and vocal cords standing in opposition to each other, denying her even the right to choose her last words.

And so Ladybug dies, wordlessly and anticlimactically, on a sunny Tuesday afternoon.

-x-

This is one ending.

But in a world of infinite possibility, with thousands of threads woven together to create the tapestry of time, even one slight tug can be enough to unravel the fabric.

Chat Noir, like many holders of the Black Cat Miraculous before him, has never been known for his delicacy, however.

Which means that he doesn’t so much tug on the strands as he shears through them with his claws, reaching through the sea of infinite realities to wrest creation from the jaws of oblivion.

He makes a wish.

And he destroys the world.  

-x-

Tuesday, Ladybug thinks, staring down at the broken body of Monarch, is a very arbitrary day to die.

Although judging by the hour, it is barely Tuesday anymore; the clock on her yoyo inching steadily towards the dawning of a new day.

And a new day has dawned indeed.

For the flood of first responders steadily trickling into the hidden catacombs that lie beneath the Agreste mansion; for the citizens of Paris, asleep in their beds, blissfully unaware of what has taken place in their city tonight.

And for its heroes. Ladybug’s eyes dart to her partner, who remains frozen at her side, his acid green irises fixed unwaveringly on the dead man at his feet.

The police have already questioned them both, their statements written and recorded for posterity. Now all that is left to do is wait for the medical examiner to come and remove the body in the basement.

Or, she should say the bodies, plural. Her eyes flick to the glass case to her right and Ladybug’s stomach turns anew with horror at the sight of the tomb that contains the remains of Adrien’s mother.

For how many people are in the room, there is a remarkable lack of noise; each person moving with the distinct knowledge that they have entered a graveyard and respect must be shown for the dead.

Nevertheless, the work is not quite done.

As the world continues to spin madly on around them, Ladybug turns to her partner, grim-faced and determined.

“We need to find Adrien Agreste,” is what she says.

Chat does not respond, but he follows her silently, out of the grave and into the early morning hours of what will soon become known as the most climactic Wednesday Paris has ever seen.

-x-

This is another ending.

A world, newly forged by the hands of a boy desperate to save a girl.

A world of infinite possibility, with thousands of threads painstakingly woven together by hands more accustomed to destruction than creation.  

Adrien Agreste, unbeknownst to him, lives to realize his father’s dream.

He makes a wish, and saves his love–his Lady, his classmate, his best friend. The other half of his soul residing within a different body.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng lives.

And together they kill his father.

-x-

[kiyfra]

Chapter 2 of Katatsumuri is finished! You can read it here or on AO3. PokeRus AU belongs to @monsoon-of-art.

“It’s four horns are a high-performance radar system, using them to sense sounds and smells. It’s eyes devolved, so it can’t see anything.”

The morning sunlight shined strongly, cheerfully warm after the storm from the previous night. Gentle winds carried the remaining dark clouds away from the mire lands. Pokémon left their dens to start another day of hunting and foraging, some clearing burrows of debris the storm blew in. The croagunks and hippopotas would later be bathing in mud to cool down from the hot afternoon sun.

Lian stirred awake, still laying in the mud where he collapsed last night, the river having receded. Dried out and lethargic in the sun, he felt unimaginably heavy as if there was solid steel beneath his skin. His eyelids refused to open, exhausted as the rest of him from last night’s events. Having been thoroughly vetoed from moving, Lian instead opted to continue lying there. He listened to the river burbling along, the occasional barboach splashing on the surface in their search for food.

But he wasn’t really hearing it. He could feel the sound waves coming from it, the grass rustling in the wind and pokémon going about their business. His brain was quick to interpret it as both sound and the objects in physical space. His nose was hopelessly clogged, but he could detect smells far better than ever. An entire map of his surroundings gradually filled in. It was an alien sensation, scents and sounds being translated in such a manner.

Lian found it disorientating while another part told him it made perfect sense. He needed to open his eyes and see what was happening, put any of this into coherency. No, this is how it’s supposed to be.

New information kept pouring in; atmospheric pressure, the wing beats of far off starly, humidity, the breath and heartbeats of predators looking for food. Every little sound and movement was picked up on, adding to his map and filling his skull with unwanted details and noise.

Pressurized static built up in his head and squeezed his brain like a vice grip. The harsh buzz of strange information originated from something above his head. Something connected to him.

Oh Sinnoh, what is that?

Long slimy appendages protruded from atop his head, four of them. The sensory organs responsible for the onslaught of bizarre information poked through his hair. He noticed his hat pressing down uncomfortably on them, clearly sensitive to touch.

Lian forced himself to take deep breaths, he couldn’t panic. He couldn’t panic! He needed to open his eyes now, to see anything that made sense.

He forced his eyelids to flutter open and still saw nothing. Lian was unsure if his eyes were actually open. He blinked once, then twice to be certain. Was his face in the mud? No, he could breathe well enough. He just couldn’t see anything, not even the darkness behind his eyelids. Just sheer nothingness. Understanding struck him.

He had gone blind.

The finality of it hit him like a ton of bricks and a strangled cry escaped him at the realization. He tried to place his arm under him to push himself up, but the gelatinous limb gave out as bones in his forearm slid past his elbow into his upper arm. Lian screamed but was cut short as he fell face first into the mud, the harsh scrape of bone against bone sending a skittering panic through him.

There were no ligaments or tendons to keep them in their proper place, having been fully dissolved overnight.

He couldn’t take it any more. The boy weakly lifted his head out of the mud and started bawling. Heaving sobs of confusion and pain racked his body and shook his entire frame. His body had become an enemy and a stranger, acting out of cold indifference to him.

Lian’s face burned with shame, feeling like a fool for coming here. A silly, stupid kid. He never felt so alone and he desperately wished his partner was there. He faintly wished his Lord was there.

He had the presence of mind to call for his Noble and fumbled for the flute from his satchel, begrudgingly thanking whatever alien ligaments were still keeping him together. He floundered with the clasp to the bag pocket that thankfully wasn’t pinned under him, his fingertips unfeeling and unresponsive. He finally found the ivory instrument and slid it out. Free from the satchel, the Celestic Flute slipped from his rubbery fingers and landed with its holes down in the mud.

Lian tried to wipe as much muck off as he could, but was dismayed as he only managed to smear mucus on it.  He strained to bring the mouthpiece to his lips and blew. A horrible wet trill came out past the mucus and mud, bubbles forming and popping. He took a deep breath and blew louder. It was truly the most awful rendition of the call he had ever made, notes haphazardly coming through the clogged flute. It was nearly as bad as Adaman’s playing; he’d be surprised if Lord Kleavor heard and understood it. Lian tried a few more times, each a terrible mess of notes coming out too sharp and others stuck and dying in the thick liquid coating.

Again and again he tried to play a proper summon, hoping at least one would get through. He tried to steady his too fast breathing and keep his hiccupy sobs under control. The flute fell from his hands and he was quick to paw for it, swiftly finding it and grasping the instrument in his fist as tightly as possible. Any thought of trying again died when he noticed his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

He gave up and started crying out for Calaba, Iridia, Kleavor, anyone to save him. When no one came, he cried for his mother who could never answer again.

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

Lord Kleavor was in one of his foul moods, stomping around his territory and cutting down unstable branches and trees uprooted by the storm last night. He hacked them to as many tiny pieces as possible to vent his frustrations. The temperamental noble was easily irritated under normal circumstances, never mind when his warden was so dangerously ill.

His human would normally be preparing an offering of plump beans and hearty grains to placate his anger. He always knew whether a good meal would take the edge off his temper or if he wanted to be left alone and let his rage run it’s course.

But there would be no offerings from his warden for the foreseeable future. Lord Wyrdeer expected this would only get worse, telling him about the human that fell from the sky that shared the whiskers of her partner oshawott. Kleavor had seen them for himself after the girl had managed to quell his frenzy.

She was made of sturdy stuff, challenging him at the height of his frenzy and winning, battling with her partners as equals. It was no wonder Lord Wyrdeer had trusted her with his plate. Both of them could perceive she’d been afforded a blessing, not entirely dissimilar to the Nobles blessing of divine protection.

He certainly couldn’t help the other Nobles in their frenzies or their wardens, so Kleavor had given her his own plate. He would have no choice but to trust the human Dawn. She wasn’t afraid of pokémon and was undaunted by him; no concern for the hefty blades that had tried to hack her to pieces just minutes prior.

She was a little like his warden in that regard.

Lian had approached Grandtree Arena by himself one day with an offering, looking to be accepted as Kleavor’s warden. His previous warden had passed away over a year ago, a rather gruff old man, and he hadn’t taken another warden since. Sure, he accepted offerings brought to him, but none of the hopefuls impressed him. Always respectful and properly deferential, but none of them held their head high, far too wary of him. The Lord respected drive and conviction.

So when Lian had the gumption to come to Lord Kleavor’s domain by himself against the wishes of his clan mates, he felt a sense of kinship with the boy. It reminded Kleavor of when he had been a brash young scyther with something to prove.

The newly evolved alpha bibarel from Tidewater had been causing trouble, taking trees directly from Heartwood. Feeling emboldened by the previous noble being in her old age, the upstart rodent and their bidoofs cut down trees in Lady Kleavor’s territory, just to prove they could. They even went as far as stealing offerings directly from the Noble’s dais.

Never when she was around though. The alpha was shrewd and opportunistic, bullying lone scythers and passing work off to bidoofs if Lady Kleavor was suspected to be nearby. His brothers and sisters had taken to driving them off whenever they caught them trespassing and scratching out territory markers they had so disrespectfully left. But they kept coming back, undeterred by the irate scythers.

The alpha was all but challenging the aged Noble to deal with them personally. With Lady Kleavor being close to retirement and at a distinct type disadvantage, taking on the entire lodge would end badly for her. But hiding from interlopers showing such blatant disrespect would make her look cowardly and weak in the eyes of the other alphas.

So he took matters into his own hands.

Bidoofs were simple creatures. If their alpha fell, the rest of them would scatter. He just had to endure their attacks and focus on taking down the ringleader. That night he headed down to Tidewater dam to teach them a lesson they’d never forget.

He limped back to Grandtree Arena in the early hours of the morning badly battered and injured, but triumphant. His gambit had paid off. The alpha had been cowed and they never set foot in the Lady’s territory again, keeping to the river and edges of the forest. His mother had been impressed by his display of strength and cunning and choose him to be her heir. When she retired he became the next Noble, the mighty Lord Kleavor.

The young scyther and human had both understood that if you want respect, you have to demand it. Lian had certainly gotten his when he returned to camp with a warden’s bracelet.

But now there was nothing he could do, no discernible enemy to fight. The Nobles whose job it was to protect the clans couldn’t fulfill their duty. They’d just have to trust the skyfaller that came from beyond the rift.

“Wyrdeer is wise, his faith in the human girl isn’t misplaced,” Kleavor told himself.

He slashed deep territory markers into a tree with his axes, far deeper than necessary. He’d already cleared the storm debris and patrolled his territory twice by now. He was running out of things to do to vent his frustration.

That’s when he heard the summon from his warden. It was the most shrill and distorted rendition imaginable, but he’d recognize the call anywhere. The boy was currently in the mire lands and judging by the dreadfulness of his summon, was in a great deal of distress.

He took off at once, storming towards the mire lands at a breakneck pace. Other pokémon were smart enough to stay out of the way of the charging Noble clearly on a mission. Several more distressed calls came from his warden, each as dreadful as the last, urging him forward.

He never slowed down during the hours it took traversing over the mountain ridge dividing the region, cutting through trees and smashing boulders obstructing his path. Eventually the rocky terrain gave way to muddy slopes and the red soil of the Crimson Mire Lands came into view. Kleavor stopped at the edge of the marsh to catch his breath and get his bearings.

He briefly wondered why the boy hadn’t called for Lord Ursaluna. If he were in danger, the Lord that lived in the mire lands would be closer and have been able to reach him much sooner. Dreading the answer, he bolted off again, ignoring glares from displeased alphas whose territories he was charging through. They didn’t dare challenge him; it was clear he was not to be trifled with.

He had passed crumbling pillars and was drawing close to where the summon originated, a deep river and steep bank cutting him off from the landmass. Kleavor barely paused as he took a running leap and landed on the opposite side with a heavy thud, startling several psyducks.

A bubbling growl emanated from beneath the marsh, the volume indicating something huge lurking beneath the water. A massive toxicroak rose from the depths of the pond with the signature glowing red eyes of an alpha.

The alpha was a dangerous bright blue, broken up by dappled black bands and littered with battle scars. Most prominent was a large scar running down its lips, now drawn back into a snarl, and its throat pouch; a remnant of some hard won fight. It’s finger claws were stained a venomous purple from use over many battles and it used them to beckon Kleavor, daring the Lord to approach.

He stomped forward undeterred. If the alpha did not let him pass, it was within his power to go through them.

It sized him up and made a deafening roar that would have knocked down a less sturdy pokémon. Kleavor bellowed, raising his axes in warning that he would not be denied. The toxicroak moved first. Launching itself forward, it used hooked fingers to dig into the muck and fling a large clump of mud that struck Kleavor square between the eyes.

The Lord wasted no time, performing a frenzied war dance, swinging his blades in a whirlwind of sharpened stone that the toxicroak couldn’t get near. The mud stung his eyes and obscured his vision but there was no confusion clouding the Noble’s mind. If the alpha wanted to fight, a fight was what they’d get.

Kleavor left no opening and leapt above the toxicroak with a startling amount of grace. The alpha’s glowing eyes widened and it tried to dodge, but Kleavor couldn’t possibly miss even with the mud clouding his sight. His axes came down and the blow struck true, the wind shear tearing at the impudent toad.

There was a hiss of steam before the ground abruptly erupted beneath Kleavor, throwing him off balance and showering him with rubble. The alpha, though clutching at a bleeding wound, wasn’t done yet and followed with a flurry of concentrated punches and kicks heedless of its own safety.

Stony armour cracked and chipped at the ferocious blows, but the toxicroak left itself vulnerable in its bid to finish the battle. Kleavor found an opening through his blurry vision and braced himself, winding up to swing as hard as he could. Blades of psychic energy formed at the end of his axes and he joined them together, swinging with all his might.

The toxicroak screeched in pain and surprise at the direct blow to the abdomen, the psychic attack crackling along its body. It staggered back, breathing laboriously and bleeding freely. The alpha glared hatefully at the Noble before it slipped into unconsciousness and collapsed.

Victorious, Kleavor made his way to a clean pond to rinse the mud off of his face. He dunked his head under the water and blinked his eyes clear before moving on.

It was quiet save for the ringing of far off kricketune and the occasional skirmish between golducks protecting their nests from opportunistic carnivines. Stores of dried plants were stacked in neat piles; grains, ferns and flowers of all sorts in haystacks. The marsh, though fertile, could flood easily and reserves were harvested by pokémon for shortages of food or bedding.

The cornucopia of fresh water and plant life was attractive to an ancient torterra that made its home amongst the lush soil and clear ponds; a massive alpha standing strong under the weight of the oasis it carried upon its back. Ferns and creeping vines overran the jagged boulders and fruit bearing tree. Moss had coated every inch of the colossus, its red eyes a sharp contrast to the overwhelming greenery. The air smelled of overripe fruit, the sweet scent alluring to the carnivines that shared its territory. An armoured head with veritable halberds, a sharp beak and stony growths at the end of its tail made clear the reason it had lived this long.

It locked eyes with the Noble, it’s face stony and expression unreadable. It was impossible to gauge what it made of the intrusion, whether it was calculating the odds of winning against a Noble or simply waiting for Kleavor to make the first move. The carnivines stopped what they were doing to join the stare down.

Kleavor would hesitate to challenge an alpha like this even in peak condition; it would be certain to make any win a pyrrhic victory. After running himself ragged over mountains and still walking off the damage from the toxicroak, it’s doubtful he would be in any kind of shape to help his warden afterwards.

He could certainly outrun it, but he wasn’t far from the summon’s origin and Kleavor was not going to lead an alpha torterra to his possibly injured human. He’d be forced to take a roundabout path through the marsh to make sure it couldn’t follow his trail.

A dismissive snort interrupted his thoughts. The torterra turned to the side, making it clear there would be no battle here. It made no move to stop him as he strode past into the fields of grain and damp peat near the reservoir, the alpha watching him out of the side of its vision.

The carnivines lost interest after the alpha had given its permission and timid petilils regarded him curiously. Sliggoos that evolved during the storm last night were getting used to their new forms, practicing rolling under the watch of their own alpha.

Kleavor heard faint sniffling before he spotted the boy. His heart stopped at the sight. Lian was lying prone by the riverbank, clutching the Celestic Flute like a life line. His warden looked dreadful, his skin having taken on a purple-ish hue and cheeks a sickly green. The clamminess and sweat had gotten worse since Kleavor last saw him, coagulating and dripping off of him with a gluey sheen. Most unnervingly were the long antennae jutting out from the top of his head that looked like they belonged to a goomy or sliggoo.

His warden was taking on the traits of a pokémon just like the skyfaller. A feeling of dread weighed heavily in his stomach at the understanding that Lord Wyrdeer was right. Things were going to get so much worse.

Was the alpha sliggoo in the area somehow responsible? He felt a flash of anger but suppressed it. That didn’t make any sense and it wasn’t important at the moment.

Kleavor crouched down beside the boy, axes planted firmly on either side of him forming a protective barrier. He used his muzzle to nudge him awake, making gravelly chirrups questioning what had happened to him. Lian groaned and stirred awake at the repeated prodding. The boy turned his head toward him, his eyes cloudy and unfocused.

“Lord Kleavor?” Lian asked in disbelief.

The Noble made a low rumble of affirmation and his warden placed a hand on his snout as if to be sure. The Lord knew humans couldn’t understand pokémon speech, but his warden was familiar enough enough with him that he could usually discern the meaning behind his and they could carry out entire back and forth conversations. Kleavor produced a low crooning asking how he ended up here.

“...I don’t know what’s happening to me...” he admitted.

The boy leaned his head against his face, his breath hitching and murmuring a quiet stream of apologies. Kleavor kept crooning to him, not saying anything in particular as Lian began sobbing.

Kleavor couldn’t fix this. His warden was suffering greatly from this strange affliction and bawling his eyes out in front of him, but the Noble could do nothing.

He hated being so powerless. Kleavor started anxiously chittering and shifting his feet back and forth, desperate to have something he could do for the poor kid.

The Lord of the Heartwood considered himself a Noble of action, one that believed in taking the initiative and shaping one’s own destiny, but it looked as if fate had other plans and the future was not his to control. This was now a matter of the skyfaller’s destiny and she would simply have to take matters into her own hands.

He’d do everything in his power to assist her, but who could help his warden now? Not the human Dawn, certainly not his fellow Nobles. The Pearl Clan’s medicine woman, Lord Ursaluna’s warden, was his best bet. He had to get the boy back to her.

He repeatedly nosed at his face to lift his head, whining to try and get his warden to cooperate with him. Kleavor pushed his snout under Lian’s chest to support him as he helped him to his feet. He held on tightly as his Noble lifted him, weakly trying to position his legs to stand on his own before his knees buckled and he pitched forward with a sharp gasp, gripping Kleavor’s rocky mandibles to avoid face planting. Lian had no energy left after the exertion, giving up and letting his arms fall to the sides. There were no obvious injuries, but it was clear he couldn’t walk in his current state.

Kleavor gently let him back down to change his approach. Using his mouth, he grabbed him by the hood of his tunic and hoisted him up out of the mud, carrying him by the scruff like a baby shinx. His warden would normally protest being carried in such a manner, but Lian went completely limp, exhausted and grateful to be out of the muck.

The boy was heavier than he ought to be, far heavier than being soaked through could account for. It felt like lead was weighing him down, but that was no matter. The Lord was strong and could easily carry his warden to safety.

Kleavor began the trek back towards the old warden’s abode with the boy dangling from his jaws, towards an uncertain future.

[cshfvck]

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝 - 𝐗𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

c/w: Gore, violence, angst no comfort

a/n: enjoy handsomes x

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Xanthus held onto you and shook your shoulders and frowned. Your bond mark, why was it so bruised?

..why are you so weak?

"..listener. Listener! This isn't fucking funny wake up!"

He shook you harder and stared into closed eyelids, red eyes burning holes into them. Foot steps didn't long follow after them. They hollowed and echoed throughout the woods. The dragging of silver scratched against mothers earths floor. Her dirt being ruined, dug up, kicked, abused. A yell erupted from one of the 5, the leader xanthus presumed. But he wasn't fast enough. He never is is he?

"Just a good for nothing vampire as they all are."

Another men laughed and pointed at him on the floor as 2 men grabbed you. Your hair bawled up in calloused hands, a wolves hand. Once a predator, always a predator. These.. So called men were wolves. Dirty fucking.. Bastards.

"Hey!"

Xanthus quickly stood up as they'd grabbed you by the hair, dragging your unconscious body through the mud. Your neck was arched, leaving you gasping and whimpering.

"Fuck off! Hey! "

xanthus bolted after you, your all that mattered. A scream, more high pitched ring out throughout the forest. Your eyes slowly fluttered open as your hands and legs were being bound. Silver chains wrapped tightly around them. Silver.

You cried out as your eyes shot open, xanthus stared at you with horror. He blinked and coughed up a large sum of blood, it sinfully bred with itself, the pile getting larger, and bigger by the second. He trembled as he looked at you, you broke.

"Xanthus! "

your broken voice would've shook trees if it could. A hand clamped on your mark and dragged you by your neck now. Your body faulted for a moment as it bled. But xanthus.. Xanthus he'd.. He'd been stabbed. With silver.

"Fucking filthy.."

Xanthus laughed a slight wince and held onto the silver knife, he whimpered lowly and pulled it out, blood fell to the floor like a waterfall. The sin of gluttony got to the men, they howled and laughed as if they were werewolves themselves. One man slapped xanthus and left him bound down with silver chains, happily calling one of his "silly little friends" to rescue him. He'd been beaten till he couldn't move.

Once pale skin was a sickly light red colour, his face plastered in tears and blood, his side bleeding. He heaved and tried to crawl to you as he saw a man pulling out a bag and a rag.

"L-listener! Please..-"

he whimpered again and held his side, the chains keeping him down. He didn't want to look when it happened. He couldn't. He cried into the mud as a rag was pressed against your mouth, you breathed in without thinking and tried to push and kick, even bite.

Your fangs dug into a hand, a man slapped your neck and pressed the rag tighter. You couldn't help it anymore, you were really a good for nothing vampire weren't you? Just made to breed and suck blood. Made to kill. Your a monster.

"You deserve this"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

a/n: giggles

[nobuverse]

Troubled nights didn't come often. In fact, it'd be safer to say they hadn't come at all since her saint graph change. Something about letting go of her bottled up emotions - it'd changed her life for the better: no more regrets. No more untold words.

So maybe one night's rough sleep wasn't a bad tradeoff for flying so close to the sun. She'd only been a limiter or two away from releasing Heshi-kill outside of his usual reality marble, one moment from incinerating everything in sight.

Yeah - second thought, it as probably best she ended up where she did.

But wait - what was here anyways?

The question made her heavy eyelids shoot open once she'd regained consciousness. Thankfully, after a quick, frantic scan of the room and a ( perhaps a bit too early) raise of her head, she could conclude she hadn't fallen into enemy hands. Well, whatever that would have looked at this stage, she wasn't really sure. Just a gut feeling since se wasn't tied down or anything.

"Hell..." the half hearted complaint leaves her as she puts her arm in front of her eyes, trying to block out the overhead lights. No telling how long she'd been out for, especially with how her arms and legs were healed up. Could just be the fancy tech of this place, though...

She gives a deep breath, her other hand moving up to the center of her chest. Everything feels intact. Her spirit core hasn't changed. That meant her brother had too still be alive.

"Nobukatsu..." Her eyes turned to a figure she can vaguely make out, not too far from her. She knows it's not him, because he'd be bawling his eyes out like a baby right now.

"Hey, did you find him? My baby brother was down there too..."

She would have gone looking for him herself if she could - but it doesn't seem like an option at the moment. She was still completely exhausted.

Most of the Spartans didn’t hear what Nobunaga had said after they had all gotten into the Pelican. Focusing on the next set of orders that they would be getting. According to High Command, planet was being over run by these creatures to the point where defensive outposts and forces were being pushed back farther and farther to the point where a full retreat was authorized. This needed to be contained to the planet and as such, a nuclear response was considered.

All survivors were going to be taken to the UNSC fleet above the planet for safety and relocation. When all of the Pelicans had returned, the fleet would launch Hyperion class missiles to decimate the planet. The last time Hyperion missiles had been used was during the Human-Covenant war for ship to ship combat. To some survivors watching it was like seeing the stories of the Covenant glassing unfold before their eyes.

When she did pass out, two of the Spartans grabbed the onboard medical pack to patch Nobunaga up. They administered the general bio-gel to heal the gashes on her arms and legs as well as a medical booster to keep her stabilized until they made it back onto the UNSC Atlas. Once back on board, they would move her to the medical wing of the ship where they were currently dealing with a lot of injured civilians and service members.

Spartan-197 would be tasked with other duties on the next move on making sure those things hadn’t come aboard the ship and if they had even stopped them form advancing. Rebecca was currently assisting all of the injured and was assigned to look after Nobunaga.

[fatuismooches]

I've written a few pieces about Dottore with a fragile! reader which you can see here, here, and here. I wanted to expand on this concept a bit because the brainrot is real.

You befriended Dottore at the Akademiya (I think the same reader from this piece too) and life was good. Those 20-page papers were a pain but dorming with your lover made it all better.

Until you begin to feel a bit off. Headaches become more frequent, and you start to feel a bit more dizzy than usual, but you chalk it up to just stress. Being a scholar is no easy task, after all. At first, Dottore seems to believe this as well too. (He has forced you to down the most disgusting medicine to make you feel better after all.)

Only this time, the medicine seems to have no effect. All you can hear during the lectures is the pounding of your head and ringing of your ears. After classes, the only thing you can manage to do is flop down onto your bed while you listen to Dottore fiddle with some parts. He doesn’t let you leave until you feel better. It may be some kind of new bug going around, he hypothesizes.

Even after a while, you don’t feel better. It feels like your whole body aches if you even move a muscle. The food tastes like nothing and you struggle to hold your hand still to even write a sentence. The worst part is that you can’t hide your predicament from your lover. You two literally live together in the Akademiya after all. The only thing that baffles your lover, is that he can’t seem to understand your sudden condition. He makes you stay in the room and forbids you from doing anything extraneous. 

The only problem is, you have missed dozens of classes already. And whenever you go, the professor always ends up calling you out in front of the whole class for your dropping eyelids. The less-than-polite words of your fellow scholars ring in your ears.

So it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when the higher-ups tell you that they’re kicking you out of the school. If only the Akademiya actually cared about their students. You’re very, very, very tired on the way back from the office, holding onto the walls for support. As much as you want to stay with Dot, since you were kicked out, you can’t live in the dorms anymore. You feel far too ill to live by yourself much less get a job, so your only choice is the local hospital.

Perhaps this is where the more… illegal activities begin. Hospital fees are no joke, you know. Someone had to pay to keep you there, and neither you nor Dottore had that kind of money. So really, no one would notice if a few people started disappearing, right? Dottore’s always wanted to dissect a human body. It would be quite educational as well as worth the money. And the classmates who made fun of you? They’d meet a similar fate.

But the doctors there aren’t much help either. So you just spend your days either by yourself, maybe passing the time with a book he lent you, or with Dottore whenever he visits. Runs tests on you without the staff knowing because there’s no way he’s trusting them, but it was to no avail. You let Zandik do what he wants because it was hard for you to care much anymore.

Also - you bawling your eyes out about how miserable you feel because of this stupid sickness. It ruined your life. You can’t do anything by yourself anymore. Your smile is virtually gone. What if he leaves you, you cry. You’re useless to him. It’s at this point, that Dottore swears that he would cure whatever illness you were afflicted with. No matter the process or the atrocities that he would need to commit. No matter who gets hurt. No matter the insults that get hurled at him. He would see to it that you were back on your two feet, cooking, fighting, studying, whatever you wanted.

Also - Dottore bringing you to Snezhnaya after Pierro recruits him. Only thing is that you’re in a coma at this point so you don’t wake up until a few years later. Waking up to the sight of three other Dottores’ in the room almost shocked you back to sleep. At this point with all the fancy technology and funds he has, your health has been better than your school days.

Also - the clones kind of being in awe of you. All they’ve seen of you is your sleeping form. Only Prime actually knew you. So that’s why you always have at least one of them following you around wherever you go. Prime is amused at this. Okay, and remember when the Omega Dot said that he was the most selfish clone of them all?? Him hogging you from the other clones. Nah because I don’t think he likes the other clones very much. Wants to keep you to himself so the clones absolutely dread whenever Prime leaves them alone. He hates when you ask the other clones for things. Smirk drops rather quickly.

[i984]

My Thoughts Echoing Your Name | Part 4

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader.

|Warnings|: Afraid of commitment! Wednesday Addams, reader cried ugly, lame banters, author gave up-ish on writing from paragraph 3, Jealous! Wednesday Addams, lame-ass guy still exists.

|Summary|: Even after Wednesday Addams broke your heart, the ache for her is unbearably still there.

|A/n|: I struggled with this one, there's 5 different drafts until I decided to just type whatever comes in mind, and here you have it, a not-last-part of Burning Red. Next and final part is out!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Music.

It's coming from outside your window.

You strain your ears, and they manage to catch the all-too-familiar tune. It's frickin' Aerosmith blasting in the middle of the night.

Great. Now you look like an idiot from some cliche romantic comedy movie—tears streaming down your cheeks with snotty tissue papers scattered about your bedsheets, a pathetic teenager bawling their eyes out with a love song playing in the background.

Wednesday, the girl of your dreams, was never yours.

It feels funny. How you thought that after leaving Wednesday yet again for the second time that evening, you would finally find peace in the four walls of your dorm space. But instead, here you are, throat hoarse, eyes stinging, chest ragged, nose sniffling, and some psycho has decided to interrupt your much-needed de-stressing session.

The universe must hate you.

You plop down your bed while your eyelids close, drowning in the all-consuming black void while the faint chord of music continues to play. A sound escaped your lips. A defeated chortle. It sounded so weak that you were almost sure it hadn't come out of you, the voice so uncharacteristic of your usual relaxed, carefree laughter.

Memories of your latest cafe commotion flash through your mind, and you feel your heart sinks and touch your diaphragm.

Is this it? Have you been reduced to a heartbroken pathetic fool? The obnoxious images assault your brain, and you scream into your pillow as you give in to the torture, mind re-living the appalling incident at Weathervane.

"Whoa, who are you?" the man across from you and Wednesday asked, his trunk no longer attached to the sofa booth, legs standing up hurriedly at Wednesday's intimidating display.

Wednesday pulls the side of your body closer, both your hips bruisingly pressed to each other as she speaks, "I believe I should ask you the same question."

You squirm under Wednesday's tight grip, unable to decide if you should break free or admit defeat and stay at your place. You chose the latter, partly to assess the situation but also because you've stupidly missed her touch, despite how much you wish to smack the face of the girl standing beside you.

The man's face contorts into confusion before his brows shoot up and his mouth gapes, finally coming to an irksome realization.

"You- you're that outcast from the freak school, right?"

Wednesday, a freak, though she wasn't the only one.

"Your obviously puny brain might want to try coming up with something a little more descriptive than that."

The man ignored Wednesday's insult, finger now raised to point at the raven-haired girl. "No, yeah, I remember you. You're that crazy girl who played cello while the ceremony caught fire."

He takes a small step back from the two of you, the tissue paper in his hand now crumpled. "They said you were the one who staged it all."

"I have to say, the town's people here might not be too dense after all," came Wednesday's haughty reply, and you're starting to get sick of the pointless banter displayed.

The man turns his face to you, "We should go, like now."

You didn't move from your spot—or rather you can't. Wednesday's arm wraps around you more firmly, and you don't know if you hate the feeling of it; the hint of possessiveness in the gesture offers sweet promises and false hope.

Wednesday, the black dahlia that will be the death of you.

It doesn't take a genius to find out, so the next words that come out of the man's mouth are no surprise.

"Wait, you know this girl?" the person you've yet to learn their name asked, and when you didn't answer, he took another step back, his hands now coming up to pull on the base of his hair in horror.

"I can't believe you're friends with this psychopath," and you feel your stomach churn at the man's words. Not at his obviously condescending tone or the sudden behavior change but at the word he chose to use.

Wednesday, a friend. Is that how he sees the two of you?

Even a stranger seems to think this, so could it be true? Oh, how you want to say no because friends don't act this way. They don't get upset about dates; they don't go on those. The romantic kinds, at least.

Their hearts don't hammer against their chests, not when they hold each other's hands so tight they can feel the blood rush under their skin.

They don't swap spit and shove their tounges down each other's throats, and they won't get upset if one of them says that it's all that is. A kiss. After all, friends can kiss each other, right?

But most importantly, they don't get upset when strangers think they're indeed friends.

Wednesday now feels like a foe, and you know you've lost.

"But we're not friends, are we?" You finally turn your head to look at Wednesday's face, and when you see whatever cryptic expression she's got on her front, you lose all hope.

"We're nothing," your voice shakes in defeat, and your free hand tries to pry Wednesday's arm off you, "so I shouldn't have been upset."

"We're nothing," you lift the fingers gripping your hips tightly one by one, "you were right, and I was wrong."

"We're nothing," you look at her previously cold hand that now desperately holds yours, and you wonder if this may be the last time you'll ever get the chance to touch her, "so you should let me go."

You pull your hand to your side forcefully. The cold and the warmth were no more; it was just you.

"So I should go."

The cafe's doorbell chimes, and you leave Wednesday and the stranger behind you, not daring to look back at them, at her.

Because maybe if you do, you'll see that tears have stained her face just like yours have, and you don't know if you'll survive with the sight burned to your brain.

Wednesday, now a ripped page of the book you wish you could burn.

You open your eyes, and the light frays them, making your brows furrow as you groan into the room. The music was no longer there. Gone. Only deafening silence kills your heart and robs your soul. You feel so painfully alone.

Breathing in the air, you look up and see spiders making webs on your ceiling. They dance, weaving more web out, painting beautifully intricate patterns bit by bit.

Your mind calms down, the bitter thoughts now replaced with a name, and your mind holds to it and repeats it like a mantra.

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

You want to see her.

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

You want to feel her.

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Your heart calls out her name.

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Oh, you miss her.

"Wednesday." Your voice calls out her name; a knock answers.

[theshyspy]

chiquitita - h.s

summary: your best friend figures out you’re not doing to well and and does something sweet to cheer you up. Friends to lovers???? I’m not sure but that’s what I picture lol

warning: not directly, but mentions depression and a teeny panic attack. Also, tumblr deletes random paragraphs and I don’t even know which anymore so if something feels like it’s missing,,,, its probably that

a/n: I wrote this when I was feeling kinda low and didn’t know who to turn to. It comforted me, and maybe it can comfort you a little too. If you need someone to talk to, please don’t hesitate to reach out and we’ll be there for each other💕,

(please reblog and interact with this fic and me if you enjoy it, i can't express how much it means and helps me keep writing and making fics!!!!)

Check out my masterlist!✨

You were tired.

At least that was the answer slipping off you tongue whenever you were asked. The longer version consisted of loneliness and all-consuming dread crippling through you. Like a shadow, it creeped after you everywhere, refusing to leave your side.

Unable to grasp how much longer you could keep going, a part of you longed for someone to pick up on the subtle signs that something was off. To see through the rehearsed smile plastered on your face as your cheeks tinted with red and soft mascara stains rested underneath your exhausted eyes.

But it left you feeling smaller, so insignificant as no one uttered a slight concern.

Shutting the door behind you, a sigh fled your lips as your frame moved further into the hallway. I need to clean, you muttered, glancing at the pile of shoes scattred in front of the entryway.

you couldn’t help how pathetic you felt as your heart sank in your chest. Frustrated over your inability to let the flat look decent, you scoffed mockingly as your head flung backwards. The last time you made your bed was nothing but a faint memory, and you despised what you were turning into. A lazy, unmotivated shell of yourself fighting breakdowns like it was the only thing you knew how to do.

With a heavy heart and a knot tied in your stomach, you moved through the dirty living-room and threw yourself down on the couch. Turning your gaze away from the coffee-table in front of you, you let out a shaky breath. Take-out boxes were scattered around, used mugs decorating the few empty spaces around them. you couldn’t bear to look at it, the mess eating at the itty bits of self-respect left in you.

The silence echoing through the apartment rang in your ears, forcing you to turn around in search for the TV remote. Finding it, you let the first program playing on the screen be the night's background noise.

Sucking in a shaky breath, your cold palms pressed against your burning eyelids. Nerves were creeping up your spine, worsening the throbbing in your chest and the sickening feeling resting in your stomach. you bit the inside of your cheek, anything to keep the trembling of your lips in check.

You dug your fingertips into your skull, letting out a harsh whimper as the impact stung. Only to continue.

Every muscle in your jaw was clenched, brows furrowed as you tried to soothe the burning sensation crawling up your throat.

It was ridiculous really. you could so easily move into the kitchen and get the trash-can, throw away the litter covering the flat surfaces and one of the problems would be gone. It demanded ten minutes at most.

But you didn’t.

You just rolled over in agony, trying to calm the heaving of your chest and ease the lump burning in your throat.

It was spiralling, and you knew that if your focus weren’t changed soon, you’d end up bawling and heaving on the floor.

Turning around again, you pressed your hot cheek into the throw-pillow underneath you and forced your eyes to the cartoon playing on the tv.

There wasn't a clue in your mind as to how long you laid like that as the empty feeling returned to your chest. No matter how much you disliked that feeling, you hated the other one more.

Pushing yourself to an upright position, you let your weight rest on one arm as you gazed out the window. The sun that casted light over your furniture had set, replaced with the soft glow of moonlight.

Your eyes widened in surprise as a soft knock echoed through the apartment. But instead of getting up and opening, you sat quietly plastered in the same spot and let your leg bounce hastily.

Hating the idea of anyone seeing the state you was in, you ignored the second, harder knock and took a deep breath.

“Sweetie, I know you’re home,” the voice, recognised as Harry, said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

A small knot tied in your stomach as you pressed your palms against the hood of your eyes.

Recently, every plan you’d made was cancelled. Your excuses short and consisting of promises that you’d do it later– which you never did. Of course it had nothing to do with him. He was your safe place, magically easing your mind whenever around.

You just couldn’t bring yourself to do anything. The whole “dealing with mental-illness” situation was rather embarrassing, you thought. Everyone else had their shit together, and there was nothing more humiliating than seeing your peers reach the goals you sat for yourself as every step you took led you the wrong direction.

You were well aware he’d see right through the fake smiles plastered on your face, and you just couldn't deal with it. Not right now.

“Please.” His tone was gentle, almost coating the concern laced through the words of the soft plea.

The rawness in his voice was easy to detect, even through the door and you couldn’t help how it tugged at your heart.

“… I even brought those cinnamon rolls you like so much,” he tempted.

Conscience eating at you, you forced yourself up from the seat. The overwhelming mixture of feelings running wild inside your chest introduced itself as a heavy lump in your throat.

“I’m sorry, H. I’m just not well right now,” you voiced carefully, hoping the white lie would convince him to come back later.

“I can deal with a little flu.”

You were almost surprised over how bad your walls and door were at blocking out noise.

“No, I think I might have covid or something.” For credibility you let out a few coughs, praying it would be enough for him to buy it.

The silence swept over you again, and for a second your heart sank. As much as you wanted to be by yourself and deal with the mess of your home alone, you really didn’t want to be left alone. And the simple thought of him believing your lie and leaving (with the cinnamon-rolls, if you might add), wasn’t as soothing as you presumed.

“You know I love you, but that was the worst fake-cough I’ve ever heard.”

You couldn't stop the laugh slipping off your lips. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

He turned quiet again, as if just listening to your laugh before he spoke again. “I’m not gonna stay long if you don’t want me to, I promise, I just need to see you.”

Biting your lip, you let out a shaky breath and placed your hand on the handle. Unlocking, you pushed the crack open enough for your head to stick out.

The soft glow above him casted shadows down his frame, but you could still tell how he relaxed under your gaze. His muscles unflexing as he quirked his lips upwards in relife.

“Honestly, did you open for me or the cinnamon rolls?”

Chortling, you rolled your eyes and answered. “How could you even ask that? The cinnamon rolls, obviously.”

“Of course, stupid question.”

He couldn’t help but notice how tired you looked as he drank in your appearance. Dark bags resting under your eyes, hair greasy and nails bitten down. It was a stark contrast to his rested, sun kissed frame.

Getting self-conscious under the weight of his eyes, you bit your lip and played with the hem of your top.

“I’d invite you in, but everything's a mess.” you said, a tight smile resting on your lips as the lump in your throat grew.

There was no one in the world you was more comfortable around than him, but having even him seeing space was nothing but humiliating. You were supposed to be able to throw away used napkins and put your plates in the dishwayour. To fold your dry laundry within a week of it being done.

But you wasn’t, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it and it only made you feel worse.

“I’ll help you clean.”

Glancing back up at him, he smiled sympathetically as his free hand brushed away the loose strands on his forehead.

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Yes you can,” he argued, folding his arms and letting them rest over his chest.

“I’m not gonna let you keep shutting me out.” His voice was so gentle, silky in your ears as you felt it tug at your heart.

Looking away, you bit the insides of your cheek in a desperate attempt to ease the stinging behind your eyes. You couldn’t grasp how badly you’d craved the softness of his words until he spoke them. It was nothing like how your own words had sounded recently.

“Okay?”

Nodding, you glanced up at him through glossy eyes.

In no time, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. One hand gently pressing your head against his chest, his chin resting on top of your hair as the other hand stroked your back.

You screwed your eyes shut, the loving touch forcing out a strangled sob. The soft fabric of his shirt rubbed against your skin, and the hot tears streaming down your cheeks damped it.

“It’s okay, you’ll be okay.”

His words were careful, yet fell off his lips so effortlessly. Sounding like a promise he was determined to keep no matter what.

Softly, he pressed his lips against the top of your head as he let his hand stroke your hair. The simple motion was soothing, calming your hyper breathing.

“Let’s get you inside, eh?”

“Mhm,” you muttered reluctantly. Still not fond of the idea, but rather having that than her neighbours watch your breakdown.

Gently pushing yourself out of his hold, you lifted a shaky hand and dried the tears on your cheeks.

You were the first to move inside to the small hallway. Standing hesitantly, and watching as he took off his shoes and hung his coat.

The hall looked okay. What didn’t look okay however, was the rest of the space.

You could feel how your hands started shaking, slight movement that was barely noticeable as the nerves crawled up your throat again. Your stomach turned and you almost got nauseous just by predicting his reaction.

You followed reluctantly as he led the way. You didn’t know which was worse, not being able to see his reaction or actually seeing it. Either way, his broad shoulders tensed as he let the sight of your living room sink in.

Embarrassment bubbled over, and it was an automatic response as apologies and self-deprecating comments spewed out of you.

He turned around, a gentle expression painted across his features as he interrupted you. “I know how much you feel like you need to apologise for this, but I promise you you don’t. No matter how much you want to, I’m never gonna let you apologise for not being okay.”

You looked away and crossed your arms over your chest, feeling small under his gaze.

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around your shoulders once again. His scent familiar and calming as you breathed him in, resting against him.

“It's nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about, okay?”

You simply nodded against him as he kissed the side of your head.

“I could fall asleep like this,” you muttered quietly against him, feeling more relaxed than you had in awhile. The motion of his fingers tracing circles on your shoulder blades, slowing your breath.

He squeezed you harder before speaking jokingly. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

“Why don’t you go to your room then, you look like you could use the rest.”

“Gee, thanks Harry you sure know how to make someone feel special.”

He vibrated against you as his chuckle played through your ears. Letting the sound register, you started realising how much you’d missed the sound of his voice.

“But I am serious though, have you gotten enough sleep?”

“Perhaps not the ideal amount, but I’m fine and manage.”

“Right, that’s a no then.”

In a swift motion, you were thrown over his shoulder as he made the way over to your bedroom. The squirming to get out of his hold, having no effect on him.

Laughter was playing through the flat as he threw you down on the unmade bed. Your expression mirrored as he looked down at you with a smile resting on his lips.

“Will you at least keep me company till I fall asleep?”

“Thought you would never ask,” he said, throwing himself down at the empty space next to you.

Your back clung to his torso as his fingers ran across the bare skin on your arms. Goosebumps travelled up your spine, a natural reaction to his warm breath fanning the back of your neck.

You didn’t know how long it took, but as soft humming played through your ears you drifted to a long needed, peaceful sleep.

- - - -

“Nice of you to join me.” He greeted, a grin on his lips as he watched your wide-eyed reaction.

“You did all of this?” Your voice faltered as you gestured aimlessly at the room, letting your surroundings sink in. The floor was spotless underneath him and the table previously littered with take-out boxes, was only filled with the simple decorations you’d placed there.

“I don’t know what to say.”

From what you could see of the kitchen behind him, the countertops were shining and the dishwayour let out steam from a fresh wash.

“It’s too much, Harry.” you lifted your hand and held it in front of your agape mouth.

“Too much? It feels like too little-” he shook his head, “-you’ve been going through so much and I haven’t even been there for you.”

You stepped forward, arms wrapped around his torso as you looked up at him. His eyes wouldn’t meet yours, and you couldn’t help how your conscience weighed in your chest.

“Please don’t say that.” The desperation in your voice was clear as you hated the way your actions had affected him. “I was the one who shut you out.”

“I just feel like I should’ve tried harder.”

“But you’re here now and you’ve done so much-” you glanced out in the room again. “-I don’t even know how to thank you.”

You lifted your face, looking back up at him.

“I’m never gonna let you shut me out again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He pulled you closer, a warm smile on his lips. The content sensation in your chest telling you he’d keep that promise.

-

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