#so it is plausible in my eyes for Ray to go this far

[marshmallowprotection]

From a creepy dark and deranged perspective- which Saeran is most likely to have a creepy cult wedding / binding ritual to Mc . BE style

Ray. I don't think I need to go into detail about this, either. You probably already had him in mind when you asked the question. I think we're all in agreement that it would be Ray, if no one else. He has enough fantasies in that pretty little head of his about keeping you in this castle until the universe collapses and the sun is blowing up. I don't dare put it past him to think a wedding would be a good idea to tie you together to him forever. He can’t lose you if you’re bound in matrimony.

I can't see Suit Saeran or Unknown leaning toward this angle in the slightest. It’s not like Unknown wants to commit to anything. He doesn’t like labels, in fact, the man just lets you see him as nameless, a default setting, a man without a name in all regard. You’re a tool. You’re his eyes. Why would you be his partner? Now, the only way I could see him leaning that way would be if it hurt Saeyoung in any way. That’s about it. He would go through with it if it meant that he could hurt the RFA.

Suit Saeran wouldn’t do it. No, i can see why it would be easy to assume that he would choose this path to take something from Ray, but no. There’s something... terrifying to him about being trapped in a box. Funny coming from a guy that said your room his personal toy box.

But, marrying you like this... sure, maybe there’s room to argue that he might toy with the idea to see your expression, to tell you that he’d marry you thinking that it would placate his Savior enough to allow him to keep you, but... it’s no different than you being his toy or the party coordinator. Not even a marriage would keep you safe. You know, the very thing he realizes he wants to do after his cycle of confusion and anger.

But, you are specifically talking about the act of a marriage within Mint Eye as something that is intended to bind you to him. So, who else but Ray would want to do something so binding and tight with you in the first place? This would be a band-aid for his paranoia when it comes to losing you. If he has proof that you’re tied to him this way, should he be afraid? He can’t lose you if you’re married and the confines of marriage mean that you’re only with him.

So Ray Route Bad Ending 1, Another Story Prologue Bad Ending, Another Story Day 4 Bad Ending, and V Route Bad Relationship Ending 1 are timelines where I can see this playing out. There is a way to rationalize these endings as paths to this conclusion, though, there the way that you get to him suggesting marriage is different since these endings have vastly different angles that lead you inside of them. Like, V’s BRE1, for example.

You showed no interest in V the way Rika wanted. She shrugged and decided to give you back to Ray since she has no benefit in being interested in you if there is nothing tying you back to V’s interest. Ray wants you to forget about the RFA now and you bring them up much to his chagrin. So, he decides to lock up in the suite until he decides how to fix this. It isn’t a stretch for me to imagine that in his little fairytale fantasy brain that the way to bring you back to him would be to give you that happily ever after and show you the way to be truly happy with your real prince.

Or, perhaps, in the Prologue BE, after he takes you on his assistant for some time, his paranoia at losing you for not being able to keep up with his work ethic would bring him to realize that his Savior could take you away. He would search his brain for hours to find something that could keep you with him, and since this is a cult loaded with Catholic trauma, he might just assume that being married to you would keep you safe. Now, that hugely depends on how useful Rika thinks it might be. Hell, she’d probably agree to it if it meant that she had another pawn in her hands to incentivize Ray.

So, I very much believe that this could happen in a Bad Ending at some point if the idea is presented to Ray as something that will fix it. [Spoiler Alert: it doesn’t fix anything.]

[darkwolf76]

HoTD Big Bang Spring Prompt: The Forest

Here is a little drabble contribution toward the @hotd-bigbang Spring Prompt Challenge, featuring my OC, Lady Deidre Strong, from my ongoing multi-chapter fic Children of Bone and Blood.

Paring: Criston Cole x OC

The Kingswood held what was left of an ancient forest from the dawning days of Westeros. The trees that remained were old and held memory of days ever older. The gods had watched many events transpire and much time pass amongst the trees. Even though this far south, the Old Gods’ power had faded, it still lingered in the woods and the earth itself. Under the cover of the forest, Ser Criston Cole of the Kingsgaurd and Lady Deidre Strong cantered along on their horses, trying their best to keep sight of the yellow gold dragon that soared over head.

“I still don’t know why she couldn’t have us wait for her in one spot.” Criston pulled his steed to a stop, patting the grey destier on the neck for its efforts in keeping up with a dragon all afternoon. The knight squinted as he tried to make Syrax out through the holes in the green canopy above, the sunlight filtering through to the forest floor in rays that made it hard to see the sky.

Deidre giggled, arching a brow. “It is Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen we are speaking of. She has whims as changeable as the shape of a flame. She has to find the perfect spot for Syrax to rest, and she wants us there to keep her company when she does.”

“She'll reach that coveted, remote spot far easier than us.” Criston's voice held a grumble. He freely expressed his emotions around the Strong girl in a way that he’d never do among proper company of the Red Keep as member of the Kingsgaurd. “Damn, I think we’ve lost them.” He shook his head, a bit exasperated, but fondly so. “Don’t tell the princess, but tracking her dragon can be a pain the arse.”

Deidre let out a laugh, and Criston chuckled too. In truth, neither complained when Rhaenyra often dragged them out here to the Kingswood. In the trees, all their courtly roles, princess, lady-in-waiting, and knight, melted away, and the friendship and camaraderie the three shared could truly flourish.

Deidre closed her eyes as the wind rustled the green leaves overhead. She sent a small prayer to her gods, and the smell of a dragon, the sulfur, stone, and something uniquely Syrax, tickled Deidre’s nose. “They’re going this way.” She gently prodded her chestnut mare with her legs, urging it in the direction of the scent.

Criston tilted his head, but didn’t really question her, not in the moments when she held the certainty of the Old Gods in her tone. He may not understand it completely, but knew her well enough to tell there was greater wisdom behind her words sometimes, knowledge of the Old Gods, that Deidre sometimes grasped and sometimes missed entirely.

They seemed to get to the right general area, as they heard Syrax’s cries as she circled somewhere overhead, but twas still hard to pinpoint where the beast and her mistress were heading. “Perhaps you could look,” Criston suggested, nodding to the trees.

Deidre frowned as she glanced incredulously at the knight and the towering height of the trees. “Criston...”

“You’ve talked of doing it more for months, and you’ll never regain the skill if you do not challenge yourself.”

Deidre glared at the Kingsgaurd, looking at her with seriousness from beneath his gleaming helm. She knew he spoke true, but fear held her back. “Tis not very proper for a lady to do such a thing.” She huffed and tossed her brown braid over her shoulder, trying to imitate a plausible balance of Rhaenyra’s haughtiness and Alicent’s primness.

It must have all come out looking like silliness to Criston, for he laughed heartily, a deep rich tenor that made heat tinge Deidre’s cheeks, due to a mixture of embarrassment and other emotions that she would not entertain thoughts of. Criston removed his helm and vaulted down from his horse, his dark hair coming free around his shoulders as he stepped closer to Deidre’s mounts and took the reigns. He smiled up at her. “Come on now, while you’re a fair bit more proper than the princess, I’ve seen you climb trees like a squirrel in the gardens.”

“A squirrel? You’d compare me to a squirrel?”

Criston shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever animal you’d like, my lady.” He nodded his head in a mockery of his usual devout behavior in his knightly role as Rhaenyra’s sworn shield.

Deidre smiled, a laugh in the back of her throat, but then as she glanced up at the trees again, she swallowed. She’d climbed trees tall as some in this wood in Harrenhal’s Godswood as a child, often with her eyes closed as she trusted the feeling of the gods in the wind, earth, and trees themselves to guide her on the right path, but all that had been before Dyana’s fall. The gods had taken half of her soul the day they’d taken her twin and Deidre’s connection to them with her. She’d found the courage to climb again after years at Criston’s urging and with his support, but she didn’t feel as sure footed as she once had. “I just don’t know if I feel safe doing it.”

Criston’s face dropped and then his expression grew firm. His gloved hand found hers, resting on her lap as she loosely grasped the reigns of her palfrey. “I took an oath to serve the royal family and keep the princess safe. That oath extends to you as her lady, and even if it didn’t, I would do it still.”

His gaze held the same intensity as his words as his fingers squeezed Deidre’s. His brown eyes locked with her green, and for a moment they both were lost. “What if I were to fall, trying to climb high as a dragon, as my sister did?”

“As I told you already, I’d catch you. I always will.”

Deidre cheeks colored more at that memory of the gardens a few months back, when he’d encouraged her to do the thing she’d not done in the years since her sister’s death. He’d kept his promise when she’d slipped, and they’d shared a moment far too intimate to be proper for any lady and Kingsgaurd, no matter how friendly they’d become in their shared service to the princess. Yet his repeated promise gave Deidre a courage she normally did not have. He always calmed the storm that stirred in her veins when the gods whispered of things she could not grasp or understand.

Their eyes remained locked as she slid down from her palfrey, his hand only slightly brushing her waist to make sure her descent was steady. Criston grasped the reins on her steed as she studied the trees and slid off her boots and stockings. She let herself feel the dirt and crunch of leaves between her toes and against the soles of her feet as she studied the trees for the best one to climb. She closed her eyes and listened to wind that whispered through the green leaves of the trees. She smelt the damp of the earth. She felt no pull though.

There is always a price, had been her Aunt Alys’ words when speaking of the old gods and their power. Deidre thought of the price already paid in her twin’s blood, when the young girl with a face that had reflected Deidre’s own had climbed too high on a castle wall. Dyana’s blood pooling on the cobble stone from her head, her pain that had been Deidre’s own. Then Deidre felt the pull, a push from the wind that brushed her skirts. She let her feet guide her and reached out a hand. She felt her palm come in contact with a firm trunk, gnarled and filled with knots, pulsing with life and ideal for climbing. Smiling, Deidre let her fingers feel over the bark until she could grip a strong hand hold, and she climbed, and climbed, and climbed. She opened her eyes when she felt the warmth of the sun and sensed its unhindered light through her lids. Her eyes fluttered open to find herself on a study branch close to a break in the thick green cover of the forest, a large patch of clear blue sky visible. Feeling the guiding hand of the gods in the tree, Deidre climbed a bit further until she could see above the tree cover. She spotted Syrax, golden scales glinting in the sun, circling just a little due east towards the cliffs at the edge of the Kingswood, where the land dropped sharply off into Blackwater Bay. The dragon let out a call as it began its descent, and Deidre smiled as the gods answered back, whispering in the wind.

[elsieys-blog]

Perks of an insomnia-driven night.

Draco Malfoy x ravenclaw!reader

a/n: hi hello, this is my first draco malfoy au and I hope you get to enjoy it as much as I wrote it <3

contains: fluff, tension, cussing, insomnia, room of requirement, Draco's rings, and strangers to friends with benefits.

summary: due to another insomnia-driven night, you strolled and suddenly bumped into a particular Slytherin. He gave you a gift you would cherish forever.

———————————————————

A loud buzz from outside startled you as you curled up on your bed, pulling the blanket up to your torso to suppress the chilly weather. You couldn't keep count on how many times you've tried to close your eyes and think as if you went into a free fall in hopes of getting yourself adrift. But no. You've closed your eyes, opened it again, flat it again but it didn't help at all. You were widely awake despite the fact you hadn't eaten any chocolate at all.

You heaved a sigh before deciding to leave your bed and go on for a short walk on the dimly lit hallways. Perhaps the calmness and stillness of it would soothe you. You pushed the duvet away from your nearly naked body and slipped your slippers onto your feet. Standing up, you went over to the bathroom, did some basic hygiene before twisting the doorknob and leaving your dormitory in a swift.

God, even the Ravenclaw common room didn't look fancy anymore.

It usually does every morning to dawn. But every midnight and pass midnight? It looks like as though someone was murdered and students ought to stay hidden in their dorms.

As your quiet and soft trudges echoed the walls, only a few line of torches lighting your way, you exited the Ravenclaw common room and was now and finally outside. The hallways were now bigger and neverending, as if you had set foot into a deja Vu. A few floorboards you step creaked and so the snoring portraits on every corner and side of the wall yawns and went back to sleep.

You maintained a good slow and calm pace until you forgot to pick up your wand from your room. There was no going back now because it was a long way back. Now you had to squint your eyes so that it adjusted from the pitch black darkness.

Loud cawing from crows scare you sometimes so goosebumps prickled your skin. The only thing you could see was the dots of glitter from the sky and the shadows the oak trees casted on the ground. The shadow was formed strangely and it looks distorted so you held a deep breath, reminding myself that there was nothing to be bothered of. And that everyone was sleeping just fine.

As you walked silently, your head elbow-deep in thoughts, you didn't know you were now staring at a wall so called the Room of Requirement. The walls was approximately fifteen feet, bizarre patterns across it.

"Well, there's nothing else to go, so. . ." Your mind spoke and you closed your eyes, thinking of a plausible reason to get yourself inside. After a few seconds, you heard three faint clicks until the wall molded into a tall door. You glanced sideways before entering the room slowly.

You were met by the darkness once again, but this time it felt comforting. You walked and walked, taking in the unblemished and grubby furnitures hidden beyond the tall door. There were stacks and mounds of unused things that you felt suddenly guilty. As you roamed around without a route, a movement beside you caught you off guard and it piqued your interest. Is someone else here?

"hello?" You started, your brows furrowing as you followed the movement.

As far from your expectations, the anonymous person replied and it was a manly, cold voice. "What are you doing up in the middle of the night? Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"

A shiver came across your spine. You shyly said, "aren't you supposed to be too?" You saw his shadow lurch and you took the chance to step forward.

He said, "doesn't matter why I'm here. This is my usual spot." His voice was a bit taunting and bragging.

"Well, you're hiding in the shadows so... And you're not supposed to hide if you claim this as your spot." You sternly said, keeping your gaze fixated on his moving shadow.

"I'm not hiding. Have you come to the realization that it's the dead of the night?" He sternly said.

"Yes, but— I think we should come over to the light so I can see you." You plead but you doubt he would actually do it.

"See me? Pathetic."

You sighed. "What? How about let's do it together? I'm really in the mood for some company right now."

The man was hesitant at first but he considered it. As much as he was irritated by someone invading his territory, he kind of wanted a company too. There was a strong exhale across you as he said. "Fine."

You gave an upturned smile, stepping into a small ray of light seeping through a window. The moonshine cradled your face as well as his. He stood tall and with poise in front of you with a neutral glare, looking down as if his eyes belittle you. "Better princess?"

You couldn't help but stare at his eyes. Wait- he was standing in front of you so he blocked the moonshine and you could only see his silhouette. You grabbed his sleeve and ushered him to a better angle. When you gently pushed his back on a partition, you finally got to look at his golden blue eyes, and the bits of freckles that stretched to his nose and cheekbones. His face was sculpted beautifully and even his nose shaped like a button. He was lithe and pristine. And you began to coil into a pit of fire.

"You're- Draco Malfoy?" Your voice shook.

"that's me." He smirked and it only made my headspace ablaze. "And you are?"

You were too busy admiring his features but your mind eventually rebounded. "I- Y/n- Y/n Y/l/n!"

He kept on smiling. "Oh, you!" He began to finally acknowledge your ghostly presence before. "You're the one I shared potions with on fifth year eh? The one where we got perfect scores?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"Right. The only reason we got perfect grades for it was because of my skills actually. Don't forget that." He playfully said, beaming a wink at you which got your cheeks turning slightly crimson.

"Ha ha, very funny. I still helped though." You avowed.

"Mhm. But I did most of the dirty work and you just stood there, watching." He laughed and I chuckled. Fun times.

"Fine. Have it your way. I did watch instead of help. Happy?" You jeered but you couldn't help but glance at the collection of rings on his bony fingers. You went still for a moment and decided to ask the unthinkable. "Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"You- you have nice rings. It looks good on you." You faltered in the slightest but remained a tepid look. "Silver matches you to be honest."

"Silver?" His eyebrows rose and his voice was unbelievably sexy. "I get that a lot."

You keep on staring, checking out the patterns designed on the small ringed jewelry such as serpents and cursive letters. You didn't realize you were smiling until his fingers convulsed. "Y/n?"

You look back into his stormy eyes with embarrassment. "Oh I- I'm sorry, I was just-"

"It's obvious you really like them, don't you?"

"Well, I mean it's pretty but-"

"Would you want one?" His question was out of the blue so you nearly jolted.

Your eyes widen in full extent, the feeling of affection was set into extreme levels that you feel like you're about to explode. "Oh er- that's good thank you, but-"

"It's pretty I get it. And you seem to admire it as much as I do so ..." He paused, removing one of the glinting rings from his ring finger and held it into his palm. "Here, you can have it for me."

Your cheeks were flaming and it was intolerable. He was platonic and you never expected it from him. You sucked in a deep inhale, tongue-tied. "Oh my god, Malfoy, this was so unnecessary-"

"It's alright. Besides, I think that hand of yours need some color." He smiled tenderly, handing you the ring. His height was towering and it only made things worse for you to handle because of how the air thickens and the atmosphere suddenly getting hot.

"I d-don't know what to say." You stutter. "But thank you. Thank you so much, wow."

You got ahold of the metallic ring, inserting it on your ring finger but it didn't fit. It was expected of course. So you tried putting it on your middle finger but it was loose still. As you were about to put it on your thumb, his cold hands gripped your wrist making you halt mid-process.

"What is it-"

"Here let me help you out."

God, he was also wearing a silver glinting necklace. Now that is fucking sexy!

Draco unclasped his own necklace, putting either ends of it into the ring until it hang perfectly. When it was perfectly adjusted just how he wanted it to, he offered it to you without double thinking, a genuine grin sprawled on his handsomely face.

You were still deeply honored yet it felt... Wrong. "Draco- I really appreciate this but- it's yours and we barely even talk-"

"I don't care about that." He flawlessly said. "You remind me of someone I deeply love and... I guess this is my way of being grateful we met at this untimely night." He scoffed and you're a bit sure you saw a hint of blush on his face.

"Really?" You didn't bother asking who that person was since he probably wasn't in the mood to tell you. You were flattered by his words as you accepted his offer.

"Yes. Now take this, and wear it. I want to see your hands with my rings, Y/n." He flirtatiously spoke, giving you another wink.

You rolled your eyes at his ridiculous act. As you were about to out it, he stopped you once more and this time you were a bit provoked. "What is it again?"

He shrugged, and now the blush hidden in his handsome features was now displayed. It was cute seeing his pale, porcelain skin yo be tainted with a tinge of scarlet. He took the necklace into his hands and made strong and seducing type of eye contact. You nearly tripped at his look right now as he said. "Let's make this scene a bit... Romantic. And by that..." He clasped the necklace on your neck, his fingers ghosting your skin ever-so-slightly. "I get to do this to you."

You shudder, not just because of the cold weather, but because of his cold touch. It was so nice against your skin that you wanted him to do it again. You smiled and bit your lip to restrain any embarrassing words. "Draco, you're being too sweet-"

"Am I? People always like the idea of making me sound rude. It feels good I get to prove it to you that that is a lie." His hands sat ok your shoulder, the pad of his thumb caressing you pulse point between your neck and shoulder.

"I understand that. When people wanted to make you sound like a villain when truly your just trying to be genuine and basic?"

Draco grinned. "Yeah, Y/n. Something like that."

You contemplated for a moment, the tension between you building up because of how close your lips had been. It was merely an inch apart, your noses almost touching that you suddenly want to feel the saccharine taste of his lips and the soft texture pressed against yours. Maybe it would be the cure to your insomnia-driven nights. Maybe it would ease and alleviate you.

"You're pretty, you know?"

You were taken a back. You stared at his eyes still and didn't even realize his hands had dropped down to your elbows, pulling it closer to him, informing you that he wants your hands to lean on his chest—to feel how ragged his breathing had gotten just by her presence. You flinched a little and smiled.

"Oh?" Was the only word to roll out of your tongue.

"Mhm." Draco was lost in his own void, his concentration had dropped from your eyes and down to your gaped lips. "So pretty..."

Fuck...

You couldn't bear the growing impatience anymore and you knew to yourself that you had to do something about it. Something to help soften his heavy breathing. He looked tired and worn out. Fragile and about to burst. You had to do something about it quick before he breaks.

Shit!

And so you lifted your heel to match his height and pecked a kiss on the corner of his mouth. For a moment Draco closed his eyes to memorize the way both your lips linked—he was awestruck. He smelled good. So good that you wanted to give another go but was frustrated enough that he didn't slam you against the wall and leave you breathless from his aggressive kisses so you just stood there and watched him remember the unsolicited peck you just gave him.

"Y/n-"

"Can I kiss you?" You abruptly said without hesitation. "Again? And this time... Better?"

Shit..

He nodded in the slightest of movement before lowering his head and both your lips met anew. There were fireworks and butterflies erupting in your stomach and all you could feel was how graceful and subtle his tongue shifted against yours and it was pure bliss. And this time, it was rougher than you thought.

a/n: AHHH! i hope you liked this one, and also PART TWO IS COMING SOON! sorry, I left y'all in a cliffhanger ;))

[starlightinhumanform]

The Untold Tales of Ba Sing Se

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender 

Ship: Sokka x fem!Reader (Romantic Relationship)

Summary: The daughter of an airbender has lived her entire life trying to hide her bending, but upon hearing the news that the Avatar is in the city, she is determined to meet him and learn more about her culture. But things never go as planned, and she finds herself sidetracked by a water tribe boy. 

Warnings (in order of strength): None (Please let me know if anything needs to be added)

Genre: Fluff, Meet-Cute

A/N: Well... my hand slipped. This is based on this request and it was so fun to write!!! I’ve never written x reader before so I hope it’s ok! Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3   Fic Masterpost   Fic Request Info

It was a dusty afternoon as you tried to walk inconspicuously through the crowds at the top of the middle ring of Ba Sing Se. As the sun beat down and the people bustled into each other, you were grateful for the loose, thin material of your clothes and its light yellow colour which kept you far cooler than the deep greens and browns of the earth nation. Your mother told you that dressing like an air nomad— you had shaved your head and everything in an attempt to follow tradition— was like drawing a target on your back and maybe she was right, but it was so much more comfortable.

The thought of your mother’s chiding turned your mind towards her and guilt began creeping over you. She would kill you if she knew you were here, trying to sneak into the upper ring of the city to meet the Avatar. She was incredibly cautious and, in turn, incredibly protective of you. You couldn’t really blame her, though, given her own experiences as an airbender barely escaping the carnage of the fire nation. She had managed to reach Ba Sing Se and hide her identity almost completely. Almost. Her foolproof plan had one tiny crack in its great structure— her daughter. By either blessing or a curse, you had been born with the ability to airbend like your mother. Unlike your mother, however, you did not have such an easy time tamping down those abilities. You could feel it all the time, the spiritual energy surging through you and all the powers of the sky trapped within your body. You felt like a caged bird, desperate for freedom. And finally, you had the chance to fly. The Avatar could be your way out if only you could reach him.

“Oh, hey! I didn’t expect to see you here!” A boy’s voice only inches behind you startled you from your thoughts. It was rough, with a hitch in the middle and it didn’t sound like anyone you knew.

You felt your heartbeat begin racing as he came up beside you and threw his arm around your shoulders, “What are you doing here?”

I’ve been caught haven’t, I? They know I’m trying to sneak through the wall. You tried to swallow but your mouth was dry. Your mind began racing to come up with a plausible excuse. The crowd was thick and if you could just break free, it would be easier to hide amongst all these people than it would be to try and talk your way out of this.

You ducked from under his arm, prepared to walk swiftly in any direction away from this situation but he quickly caught your wrist, gripping it tightly.

“Where are you going?” His voice was deeper now, dropping as it had shifted to a serious tone.

Guilt and panic churned in your core, your heart sinking to join the mix as you realized there was no way out of this. You turned to face him, actually looking at him for the first time. He was about your age but definitely taller than you. You could tell immediately that he was from a water tribe, his tan skin and blue clothing giving it away. His eyes were blue as well but what you noticed more than the colour was how sharp his eyes were, like they had been chiseled into his face.

Realization dawned on you, “You’re Sokka, aren’t you?”

He squinted like he was trying to read a small font, “And you’re not Aang, are you?”

The adrenaline still pounding through your body was making your head feel light and at the thought of being mistaken for the Avatar, you doubled over laughing, “No, no, that’s not me.”

Sokka let go of your wrist and rubbed at the back of his neck with his now free hand, obviously feeling self conscious, “Well, uh, sorry about that whole mix up.”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his awkwardness. You had heard stories about Sokka, he was supposed to be a great warrior but he was just… a boy. It was kind of cute, actually, “No it’s fine, even if you did give me a small heart attack.”

“Is there any way I could make it up to you?”

A grin spread across your face, “Take me to the upper ring?”

You grabbed his hand as he led you through to the center of the city, noting the blush spreading to his face as you did so. Oh, definitely cute.

Sokka cleared his throat, “So, uh, why were you trying to get up here anyways?”

Your face turned red, “Was it really that obvious?” 

“Oh yeah. And besides, you’re not exactly dressed for stealth,” He gestured at your brightly coloured clothes, “Why do you wear that anyways?”

“Well… I wanted to get up here to meet Aang and as far as my clothes,” You could feel your heartbeat quickening again. You could trust him, right? He was friends with the Avatar and was fighting against the fire nation. He was safe. The crowd was far thinner now as you continued walking, but there were still too many people. Your mother had taught you that even one could be too many if they were the wrong person, “I’ve just always felt a connection to the air nation I guess.”

“Huh.”

You began chewing on your bottom lip at his noncommittal answer. He can tell I’m lying.

“Aang’s not around right now,” Sokka broke the tense silence, “He’s looking for Appa.”

You nodded; you had heard about the Avatar’s missing bison and had been looking for signs of the animal yourself.

“But, you know, you could hang out with me. If you want, of course. Just until Aang’s back. But I understand—”

That adorable awkwardness was showing again as Sokka tried to get the words out. You smiled, “Yes, that sounds great.”

Sokka’s face split into a beaming grinning, “Ok, great!”

————————

The day passed quickly as Sokka took you on a tower of this elite portion of the city. He had even taken you to lunch at one of the fancy restaurants because— as he said, with a wiggle of his eyebrows, of course— he “had connections.”

Now you were sitting together on a hill from which you could see almost the entirety of Ba Sing Se burning with the rays of the sunset.

Sokka was sitting beside you, the sharp lines of his face accentuated by the deep shadows. You had convinced him to let his hair down and now tucked a piece of it behind his ear so you could see his profile more clearly.

He glanced towards you and you were almost startled by the intensity of his gaze. He was an idiot, no doubt about it, but that silliness was just a fraction of his personality, counteracting his fierce cunning. Now all of that intelligence was being directed at you, his eyes sweeping over your body.

“You’re an airbender, aren’t you?”

You turned away, your eyes searching for something to look at in the city below, anything but his eyes that continued to pick you apart.

You couldn’t see his face but his voice softened as he began to speak again, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I just—”

“No, you’re right. It’s just… my mother has always taught me to hide my bending. And she’s right, with the,” You lowered your voice, “with the war and all. We’re not supposed to even know about the war here, but my mom told me about it. She told me how she escaped one of the air temples and she taught me just how ruthless the fire nation army can be. She’s right, I should keep it a secret.”

Sokka placed his hand over yours, “You shouldn’t have to keep who you are hidden. You deserve better than that.”

Water was supposed to be cool, but Sokka was anything but cold. His voice flowed over you like a summer breeze and the warmth of his hand seeped into yours, your fingers thin and somehow far more delicate beneath his. And now the warmth was spreading upwards, reaching your face as your eyes began to fill with hot tears.

Sokka reached over with his free hand, gently tipping your chin upwards to face him, “I promise that one day this war will be over, and you’ll never have to hide again.”

You nodded, not sure what to say. The only other person you had ever talked about airbending with was your mother, and those conversations revolved entirely around fear and secrets. This was completely different, “How did you know? That I was an airbender, I mean.”

“Well for one thing your clothes,” He grinned, “I knew there had to be a good reason for a pretty girl like you to wear those big old robes.”

You shoved him lightly, trying to play off the blush rising to your face. You were grateful for the shift in the conversation but still completely unsure of how to react.

“But really, there’s something about the way you walk and move,” Sokka’s eyebrows were woven together in thought, “like your footsteps are lighter than they should be. I don’t really know how to describe it but it’s something I’ve only seen in one other person.”

“Aang?”

Sokka nodded, then suddenly pointed up into the sky, “Look, there he is now.”

You looked up where Sokka was pointing. The silhouette of a glider circled against the fading red of the sky before landing amongst the buildings a little ways down the hill.

Sokka began moving as if to get up, “Do you want to go to talk to him?”

“Wait!” The word slipped out of your mouth before you had the chance to think. You didn’t want to go yet, didn’t want this— whatever this was— to end yet.

Sokka shifted back into a sitting position, leaning lightly against you, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah I’m fine, I just… I just wanted to say thank you.”

He grinned quizzically, “For what?”

“I don’t know. For everything, for today, for showing me that there’s hope for a different future. Also for this,” You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his and feeling him sigh into the kiss.

He broke away after a moment, his cheeks a bright pink, “Oh, that, ok.”

You winced slightly, “Sorry, was that alright?”

“What? Oh yeah that was fine!” He laughed then pulled you into another kiss, one hand holding the back of your head and the other lacing through your fingers.

You melted into it, feeling yourself smile against his mouth. The Avatar could wait.

If you want to be added to my ATLA taglist, just send an ask or reply to this post. If you send an ask, please specify which taglist(s) you would like to be on as I have multiple :)

[ibelieveinharrystyles]

Strawberries On A Summer Evening

A soft imagine in which YN is one of the extras in the watermelon sugar music video and Harry can’t take his eyes off of her [2.2K Words] I hope you all enjoy this lovelies make sure to stream watermelon sugar! Masterlist

“And cut!” The director shouted, “That’s great ladies, go get yourselves some water and then we’ll go again in ten minutes. Harry can I run through a few things with you?” You made your way over to the table where bottles of water waited for you and the rest of the cast. There were spare slices of watermelon lying about, but you weren’t sure if you could face eating any more watermelon after the amount you had got through during filming. It was your first high profile job, the other music videos and projects you had been in were mainly for unsigned artists, so being in the Harry Styles’ music video was a pretty big deal. All the girls taking part were beautiful and so lovely to talk to, at first you had felt extremely out of your depth, but they had all gone out of their way to make you feel incredibly welcome.

“So we need a few more shots of you and the extras on the beach before we do the shots on the benches,” Blake, the creative director explained.

“Sounds wonderful, do you know who that girl is?” Harry replied, gesturing towards you as you spoke to a couple of members of the cast.

“Not sure, I think Lambert recommended her,” Blake told him, “We’ll be back on in five.” Blake walked off leaving Harry gazing at you, the sun capered over your skin, quite frankly Harry was in awe, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you during filming, he was bold enough to look right at you when he was singing, but you were yet to approach him. He didn’t want you to think he was coming on too heavy so he just left it, it wouldn’t exactly be a great first impression to ask for your number straight away, whether he was Harry Styles or not.

“Hey Lambert how's it going?” Harry asked his stylist as he approached him for an outfit change.

“Things seem to be shaping up well, I reckon your fans will go mad for this video.” He replied, handing Harry a new outfit, Harry Lambert had known Harry for a while now, and they were pretty close, meaning he could read him like a book, “But you didn’t come over here to ask me about that did you?” Harry looked up at his stylist with a confused look on his face, “You wanted to ask about YN didn’t you? The girl in the blue bikini.”

“How did you know?” Harry asked, pretty impressed by his friend’s skills of deduction.

“Many reasons, firstly you’ve literally been staring at her throughout the whole shoot, you’re even doing so now, secondly the way you bounded over here like a puppy with a look inyour eyes that I haven’t seen in a long time, and thirdly I had a bet with Blake that you would ask me about her.” Harry Lambert smirked, folding and putting away Harry’s outfit.

“If this stylist thing doesn’t go anywhere for you Lambert I recommend you become a private investigator.” Harry laughed at his friend.

“You are going to talk to her aren’t you?”

“What, now?” Harry asked.

“There’s no time like the present.”

Harry shuffled across the sand awkwardly to where you were sitting on a step reapplying sunscreen. “Is this seat taken?” Harry asked, gesturing to the space on the seat beside you.

“Help yourself,” you smiled, rubbing suncream up and down your arms.

“How are you finding the shoot so far?” Harry asked, leaning back on the steps, the warm breeze from the sea hitting both of your faces.

“It’s been good, everyone’s so lovely, I think I expected everyone to be strictly professional, but I’m having a lot of fun, this is my first video shoot for a signed artist you see,” You explained.

“Really? Well I heard you came highly recommended.

“Been talking about me have you Styles?” Harry felt put on the spot, you had only known each other for a few minutes and you were already keeping him on his toes.

“No, I um, well-” Harry stuttered, unable to think up a plausible excuse.

“I’m messing with you, the last artist I worked with knows your stylist, he sent him my portfolio and it went from there.” You assured him, he was different to most men you had spoken to before, yes he was as charming as the media said he was, but he was also clearly nervous, stumbling over his words and offering you small smiles every so often. “Nice sunglasses by the way.” You told him as you struggled to rub sunscreen into your back.

“Thank you, do you want me to help you with that?” Harry asked politely, clearly not wanting to overstep the mark.

“If you don’t mind.” You replied, he took the bottle from your hand, squeezing some of the cream into his hand before slowly rubbing it up and down your back, his hands felt strong against your back which sent shivers up and down your spine, he made sure to cover your shoulders too, gently rubbing the suncream along your shoulders, his fingers lightly dancing along your collarbone.

“I think that’s all done, wouldn’t want my leading lady getting burnt now would I?” Harry smiled, admiring how well your bikini complimented your figure, but he didn’t mention it because he had just rubbed sunscreen into your back, and any other sudden advances could be too premature.

“Leading lady eh? Can I put that on my resume?” You teased.

“I mean one of my leading ladies, you look wonderful, you all do,” Harry stuttered, you were having that effect on him again, when you looked at him whilst he talked all he seemed to do was trip over his words, “We should probably get back down to the set, they’ll probably call time on the break in a minute.”

Filming was resumed as you and the rest of the extras laid sprawled across picnic blankets, Harry in the middle of you all. As the director shouting action Harry’s eyes were on you, “Baby, you're the end of June, I want your belly and that summer feelin' getting washed away in you.” As he sang to the music blaring out of the surrounding speakers he couldn’t take his eyes off of you as the two of you lay opposite each other, he sang the words to you, there was no question about it, he was definitely singing it to you, you bit your lip in response, which ultimately sent shivers up Harry’s core. “Harry that’s great, keep working with that!” Blake called from behind the camera, “Yep Harry get closer to YN please, the camera is loving that!” Harry moved towards you, you adjusted your positioning so that his body was sprawled across her as he sang into the camera, and clearly neither of them had any complaints about the arrangement. Harry could feel your heartbeat and it was truly comforting, he could also smell the scent of your perfume that was a mixture of strawberry and vanilla, whatever it was he thought that it’s sweetness suited you perfectly.

Filming had come to an end and the sun was slowly setting over Malibu beach, most of the cast had already left, with flights to catch for other jobs, but you were still there, talking to a few of the other girls about your previous jobs, “Sorry to interrupt you ladies, could I possibly steal YN away from you?” He asked, you turned to look at you, the slight wind catching the ends of your hair, he thought your smile was beautiful, but the golden rays of sunlight made it even more so. “Did you have a good day today?” Harry asked as the pair strolled along the edge of the beach, the waves lapping up onto their bare feet as they walked.

“It was incredible, everyone is lovely, I really enjoyed it,” You smiled, he was a little bit taller than you, so you would glance up to talk to him, taking in every inch of him as you did.

“I hope you don’t think of me as overstepping the mark, but I’m inviting some friends back to my house for some drinks and some food, you are more than welcome to come.” Harry told you, somehow he had gained more confidence in talking to you since your conversation on the steps, well lying across someone’s chest is a pretty plausible reason to get closer to someone.

“See I could interpret that in one of two ways, either that’s you telling me you are having friends over and I could come, or that’s you indirectly asking me to come to your house.” You replied, running through the soft waves of the sea.

“Yeah, it would be the latter.”

Harry’s house was impressive, really impressive, it made your apartment look like a shoebox in comparison, but the company was what completed it. Harry’s friends were lovely,most of them were from the shoot, meaning their faces were familiar, you had been there quite a few hours and honestly Harry was fine with it, you slotted in with his friends perfectly, like you had known them all for ages. He made a conscious effort to check that you were alright and kept offering to top up your drink if you wanted him to. After a lengthy conversation with the group about the best ice cream parlours in Santa Monica you realised it was just gone 2AM and you should probably be getting back to your airbnb. You excused yourself from the conversation, making your way out into the grand hallway of Harry’s home, putting your shoes back on along with your denim jacket. “Leaving so soon?” You heard Harry say as he appeared in the doorway.

“It’s 2AM, and I have a job in less than six hours.” You explained, your head feeling weary as a result of the constant sun exposure mixed with the two glasses of wine.

“I could drive you if you like,” Harry offered, desperate to spend more time with you.

“You’ve had like five glasses of wine, do you want to get stopped by the police or something?” You replied, “I’ve already ordered an Uber.”

“Well will I see you again?” Harry asked.

“Depends.”

“On what?” Harry asked.

“Whether or not you ask me on a date.” You replied.

“Well, would you like to go on a date with me?” Harry asked, unable to hide the massive grin on his face.

“How does Friday sound?”

                                                       ***

And there you were, spending your Friday evening on a date with none other than Harry Styles. You were wearing a white summer dress, while Harry wore a yellow patterned shirt, buttoned halfway, being the hopeless romantic he was, he had taken you back to the beach where you first met, accompanied by a picnic that of course featured watermelon pieces and strawberries. “I’ve got a lot of memories on this beach you know.” Harry told you, admiring you as you dipped a strawberry in the melted chocolate.

“Is that so?” You smiled, glancing at the butterfly tattoo that poked through his shirt.

“Yeah, we filmed the band’s first music video here when I was like seventeen,on this very balcony,” he declared, gesturing at the beach house you were sat on, “and we filmed watermelon sugar here obviously, which is where I met you.”

“I like the last one the best,” you replied, but I can think of a new one that could trump it.” You replied.

“And what might that be?” Before he could say a word your lips were on his, taking each other in, the sweet taste of strawberries lingered on your lips as Harry kissed you softly, his hands wandering up and down your body, “You know something, I think that might be my new favourite memory sugar.” Harry whispered, pulling away from your kiss.

“Did you just call me sugar?” You giggled.

“Yeah, because you’re sweet like sugar.”

                                                       ***

“H baby, the fans are going mad for it!” You called from the kitchen, sat at a barstool at the kitchen island, four months had passed since your date and you and Harry had only got closer. The last few months had been a whirlwind, so much so that Harry had asked you to isolate with him, he got lonely easily, and the idea of living with you was enough to make lockdown pass quickly.

“They like it do they?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, kissing your neck softly, “What did your mum think of it?”

“I think she liked it, she said that her friends from work thought it was erm, interesting.” You giggled.

“I’m glad she enjoyed it sugar.” He replied, squeezing you tightly.

“I’m quite surprised she was so positive about it, considering it was basically a fully clothed orgy.” You laughed, holding onto his arms.

“Excuse me, it was a very tastefully executed orgy thank very much.” Harry told you, spinning the bar stool so that you faced him, “But what was your favourite bit sugar?”

“You, all of you.” You whispered, placing kisses along his jawline, “As lovely as it is reading what your fans think, how about I show you how it’s done.” You continued, knowing the feelings it would stir up in Harry, “Bedroom?” You muttered into his ear.

“Bedroom.” He replied, scooping you up into a bridal carry, trying to get you up the stairs to the bedroom quicker than you could say Watermelon Sugar High.

[emma-nation]

The Devil In I - Bela x OC (Resident Evil Village AU) - Chapter 9

“Step inside, see the Devil in I”

Summary: Aleena Novak is a 19 years old orphan who desired more than living in a village in the middle of nowhere. A talented artist with a big future ahead, she gets the scholarship of her dreams in United States. But everything changes when her twin brother, Auryk, steals an important artifact from Castle Dimitrescu.

In this adventure, Aleena will find way more than she expected.

“You’ll realize I’m not your Devil anymore”

Pairing: Bela Dimitrescu x f!OC

Genre: Between T and M (Trigger warning: for violence, blood, abuse and eventual smut)

Tag List: @nydeiri

Castle Dimitrescu, Lady Dimitrescu's Bedroom - Present Days

What did dying feels like? Bela couldn't remember the day she died, before she was turned. For many and many years, she wondered how it even happened. Maybe she was incurably ill. That would be the only plausible explanation on why Lady Dimitrescu decided to transform her into a vampire. Having an illness herself, she must've felt sorry for Bela being so young and already losing her life.

But that night, after being drugged by Mother Miranda, the memory from that tragic event returned to her memory stronger like never.

It was a cold night in the 1950's. Alcina threw a special dinner and invited her three favorite and most loyal servants. Three young girls. They felt honored sitting at the same table as their mistress. They were chatting and giggling but then... something started to feel strange. Starting by the fact none of the servants were around.

It began as a burning sensation in Bela's stomach. She tried to ignore it but it'd only grow stronger. She dropped the silverware she was holding. She attempted to swallow another sip of tea. By her side, she noticed one of the other two girls, the brunette one, starting to show signs of discomfort too.

"What's wrong, my dear?" Lady Dimitrescu asked when the red haired girl, the youngest of the three, started coughing.

"I can't..." she tried to answer, but the words got lost in her throat as she began to suffocate, "b-breathe..."

Bela tried to stand up and help her, but her surroundings started to spin. She held on the table for support. At this point, the brunette girl was already lying on the floor, having some kind of seizure. She looked at Lady Dimitrescu again, but she didn't seem to be worried. She seemed abnormally calm.

"W-What have you..." before she could finish the question, her lungs could no longer fill with oxygen. Her throat and her airways started to burn. She tried and tried to breathe, but it seemed impossible. The weakness started on her legs and spread to the rest of her body really quickly. In fact, she barely felt when she collapsed on the floor. When the seizures started, she was barely conscious. Her vision was already going black, but she still had time to see the Countess staring at her body, almost lifeless, as she said:

"Don't worry, daughter. Everything will be alright."

Poisoned. She was poisoned.

When Bela woke up it was already morning. She could tell by the rays of sunlight entering through the windows. She hadn't died this time, but the sensations she experienced were quite similar. Her head was aching intensely and her vision was still blurred. Whatever Miranda had injected in her blood had affected her senses very badly.

"Aleena," she finally remembered. She tried to get up but her legs were still weak. "I need to find her."

She kept moving slowly, using the walls and furniture for support. If only she could transform into flies, it would be a lot easier, but it hurt to even try.

"Fuck!" Bela cursed, frustrated. She threw herself on a couch for a moment. She needed to rest.

Her eyes analyzed her surroundings. Although Bela was in her mother's chambers, Lady Dimitrescu was nowhere to be seen.

Hours had passed since she was drugged. Anything could've happened during this time. She wondered if Aleena was still there and if she was okay. She had to be. But what if she slept for days? What if the ritual had already happened? Aleena could be dead in that exact moment and she wasn't there to protect her. That thought made her stomach feel sick. And rare were the occasions she felt sick after being turned.

"Bela!" Daniela opened the door, she seemed so confused and scared as she was. "There you are, sister! Oh my god, I was starting to think you were dead."

"You wish..." Bela moaned sarcastically. She couldn't miss the opportunity. "What the fuck happened, Dani? Where's that bitch?"

"Who? Cassandra?"

Daniela handed her a cup full of human blood. Bela drank it all in one sip. That was the only thing able to restore her body from the damage Miranda caused.

Cassandra. She remembered her middle sister being the one who told her to go to her mother's office. Traitor! She should've known when she appeared to be so supportive of her relationship with Aleena in the previous day.

"No, Mother Miranda."

"Mother Miranda was here?"

Before she could answer, the door opened with a slam. It was Cassandra, looking completely fine. She had blood around her mouth and all over her dress. In a blink of an eye, Bela lunged forward, pinning her against the wall.

"How could you?!" She yelled. "You sent me directly to a trap!"

"What are you talking about?" Cassandra argued. "Somebody caught me on a corridor and stabbed my neck with a needle, then I passed out."

"Come on, don't lie to us," Daniela shouted. "You entered my room last night and drugged me."

"And why I would even do this to both of you?"

Realizing what happened, Bela immediately let her go.

"Mother Miranda," she huffed. "She must have shapeshifted into you and attacked us all."

It was time to tell her sisters what she learned from Heisenberg. Miranda had already started to proceed with her plans and it was a matter of time before she attempted to kill them.

"This bitch is going to die!" Cassandra punched the wall. "Nobody pretends to be me and lives."

"This is the least of our problems," Bela said. "She can be anywhere right now, pretending to be someone we trust and ready to kill us all."

"Where's mom?" Daniela asked. "I couldn't find her anywhere."

Lady Dimitrescu was the last person Bela wanted to see. She lied and betrayed her, besides helping Mother Miranda to drug her.

"I don't know, I searched for her everywhere," Cassandra told. "On the bright side, there's fresh breakfast spread all around the castle."

"What do you mean, Cassandra?" Bela wanted to know.

"The servants. They're all dead."

"What about Aleena? Have you seen her?"

"No, I thought she was with you."

Bela transformed into flies and went straight to Aleena's bedroom. It was completely empty. The bed was still made as in the previous night. She went to her own bedroom next. The diary was opened on the bed, right on the pages where her father confirmed what Miranda told her in the office, Aleena was indeed the vessel.

Mrs. Volkov corpse was lying on the corridor and not so far away, there was a trail of blood, Aleena's blood. She froze in place, too terrified to even think.

"It doesn't mean anything," Daniela placed a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe she managed to escape."

"She probably did, that girl is fierce," Cassandra added, noticing how disturbed her older sister looked. "I mean, she's not one of the Lords or a servant. There's no reason for that crazy bitch to murder her."

"There is," Bela sighed deeply. "She's the vessel. Miranda was playing us like puppets. The goblet thing was already intentional, to bring Aleena to the castle where she'd be safe until she prepared the ritual."

"Oh fuck, this is bad."

"I... I'm going to the village. Maybe she's hiding in her house."

----------

Eastern Europe, Village - Present Days

When Bela left, she didn't even bother to check the temperature or to mount one of her horses. She transformed into flies and started to fly to the village as fast as she could. Everything that mattered was finding Aleena. She wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead. They were going to California together and they'd start a brand new life.

She stopped by her house first. The door was locked and the extra key hidden in a vase at the entrance, just where Aleena placed it before they returned to the castle.

"It doesn't mean she's not here," Bela tried to convince herself. "She must have found another way in, to not make it obvious she's hiding here."

She used the key to open the front door. The house was dark and silent. There weren't any signs of somebody's recent presence. She checked every room, the basement, the secret weapon storage... Aleena definitely wasn't there.

"Maybe she's at the pub or at one of her friends' houses," Bela concluded.

There was no way. She had to do that. She took a deep breath, gathering enough courage to enter the pub. There were only three people in there, a middle aged woman behind the counter, a blonde young male cleaning the tables and a girl, who was strangely similar to Cassandra, chatting to both of them. Bela recognized them from the pictures Aleena showed her. They were Olga, Gustav and Elena.

"Hello," she announced her presence. They all stopped to stare at her, but none of them had freaked out yet. Maybe they hadn't noticed the tattoo.

"How can we help you, darling?" The older woman asked. "Are you a foreigner?"

"I... uhh... I'm looking for Aleena Novak."

"She isn't here," it was the boy who answered this time. He had a lot of anger in his voice. "She was taken to Castle Dimitrescu a few weeks ago. We don't even know if she's still alive."

"She is," Bela told. "I've been taking care of her."

They finally understood. Their expressions all changed to pure terror and panic. The two younger adults hid behind the counter, together with the woman. The male grabbed a shotgun.

"Get the hell out of here!" He ordered. "And if Aleena escaped, don't you even dare to touch her again or I'll kill you. I'll find her and bring her home."

"Trust me, manthing. This is exactly what I'm planning to do. Mother Miranda has kidnapped her. She has been planning to sacrifice her in some kind of sick ritual tonight."

"Liar!" Cassandra's doppelgänger shouted. "Mother Miranda wouldn't do such a thing! She's always guiding and protecting us. Everything she does is for the best of all of us."

"Listen, little one," Bela exhaled deeply. She had no patience for humans. That was the reason why she avoided them. They'd usually annoy her to the point they became her prey. "I have proof. Aleena's father has left this diary, reporting everything."

"That man was insane. Most of the villagers hated him."

"But he never lied," Gustav spoke. "Adrian had some crazy theories nobody ever believed but... I've never seen him lying before. He was a man of his word."

"This is true," Olga added. "We grew up together. He was absolutely nasty, a real bastard, but not a liar. He wouldn't invent such a thing, especially when it came to protecting Aleena."

Olga locked the door and the group reunited in one of the tables, analyzing the notes Adrian Novak left.

"Fuck," Gustav cursed, while trying to speak on his phone. "Auryk must've gone after this contacts. I can't reach him."

"Do you have any ideas of where Aleena could've gone to, if she was trying to hide?" Bela asked.

"Other than our houses and the pub? Well... we had this fort in the woods when we were children. Maybe she's hiding there."

"Show me the way, little man."

But Gustav wasn't the one who was most familiar with the path to Aleena's childhood fort, it was Elena. The young woman followed them, complaining about literally everything and praising Mother Miranda.

"Mother Miranda would never do that!" Elena protested. "I'd trust her with my life."

"I was about your age when she did this to me, without my consent," Bela took off the hat she was wearing, exposing her scar. "And do you think immortality is a blessing? Try spending your life locked inside a castle, without being able to go outside most of the time."

"Why are we even trusting her, Gustav? She feeds on human blood and now we're alone with her in the middle of nowhere."

"If that makes you feel more comfortable, I've already had breakfast. Besides, I prefer drinking men's blood."

"Can we just focus on Aleena?" Gustav scolded both of them. Bela had finally found a man she respected. That boy was completely loyal and protective of her girlfriend, so he deserved some credit. "God knows why Bela is searching for her but... we have the same goal here."

"We're dating," Bela informed them of the latest news. "I love her. For real."

Both of the young humans stared at her in shock.

"It seems like we'll have a lot to catch up when I see Aleena again," the boy shook his head in disbelief. "I thought the vampire thing was just a phase."

They finally found the small wooden fortress in the middle of the woods. It was mostly destroyed, but it still could fit one adult person inside it.

"Aleena!" Gustav called. There was no answer. Still, Aleena was hurt. Maybe she was unconscious.

"Go," Bela poked Elena and ordered. "You're the shortest of us. Check if she's in there."

The girl rolled her eyes, but obeyed, ducking and entering the small fort. But there wasn't even a sign Aleena was there recently.

"Where do we search now?" Elena asked.

"I'll go to the other Lords," Bela told. "Maybe one of them is keeping her for Miranda. Thank you for your help, little humans. It was a pleasure to meet you."

Bela walked away from them. Maybe in another life, they could've been friends. The priority now was to find Aleena. She wondered if the girl went to Heisenberg seeking for protection or if Miranda had captured and taken her to that creepy cave. There wasn't much time to think, she needed to act.

She followed to Heisenberg's factory. As usual the man was swearing and torturing human beings on his basement.

"What brings you here, kid?" He asked. "Did you find the diaries?"

"Yes, but too late unfortunately," she answered. "The information we were searching for: all the women in Aleena's family have some kind of immunity against the creatures and their mutations. They healed after getting bitten by Lycans, Aleena healed when you attacked her... she's the vessel."

"We have to kill her immediately. Before Miranda puts her hands on her. If that happens, we're fucked."

"She already did. She showed up in the castle last night, drugged me and my sisters, killed the servants and now... I can't find Aleena anywhere."

"Girl, you had the opportunity in your hands," he clenched his fists. "If you had killed her, like you freaks do to every single human that steps into that castle, we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Shut up, Heisenberg!" Bela grabbed a piece of metallic scrap from the floor and threw in the man's direction. "I had no idea. Even if I did, she's my girlfriend and I have to save her before she's sacrificed on Miranda's ritual."

"Good luck with that. The crazy bitch is very good hiding things."

And Bela knew that. Next, she went to Moreau's, Miranda's most loyal follower. She didn't reveal any information, she simply tricked him by inventing an excuse, that stupid freak was easy to fool. But Aleena certainly wasn't there either. Using her flies, she checked the entire place. She did the same at Donna's house. While she entertained the woman and her creepy doll having a tea party with them, her flies inspected every corner of her eerie house.

She was about to follow to Miranda's cave when she ran into Cassandra, in the middle of the way.

"What are you doing, Bela?" She asked. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?

"I'm searching for Aleena. She's gotta be somewhere and the last place I must check is the cave."

"Mother is home," her sister announced. "She wants to talk to you."

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Living Room - Present Days

In Bela's imagination, Lady Dimitrescu would apologize. Admit she had made a huge mistake and promise her they'd find Aleena together. That was who her adoptive mother was, she'd always do anything to make her daughters happy. But at the same time, she was also that same woman from her memory. The selfish Countess who killed three young girls to have them as her adoptive daughters. She killed, violated and turned them into monsters. What kind of mother was that?

The three sisters were sitting on the couch, waiting as their mother brought a tray with tea and some other treats. That would probably be their only food for days, as Lady Dimitrescu and Mother Miranda had killed all the servants.

Lady Dimitrescu sat on an armchair in front of them, looking at Bela mostly.

"I understand you're confused, daughters. But I'll explain everything."

"Where's Aleena?" Bela quickly asked. That was the only thing that mattered. Who cared about Mother Miranda's child who died ages ago? "What have you two done to her?"

"Bela, daughter... I understand you're upset and frustrated. However, Mother Miranda has been searching for the perfect vessel to bring her daughter back to life for many and many years. This vessel happens to be Aleena. It's her fate, her purpose."

Bela eyes were burning in pure rage. How could Alcina be so blind? Even Heisenberg, that scumbag of man, was smarter than her mother was.

"Her fate is to live her own life, to go to California and achieve her dreams. Her fate is to be with me!"

"I apologize for having to get rid of all of our servants," she clearly ignored her daughter's objections. "They wouldn't understand what's to come. Once Eva is back to life, things will change. I'd like to ask you girls to behave and treat her well, like if she's a new sister of yours. We'll be throwing a party to welcome Eva to our family and I'll need your help to organize it."

"Party?!" Bela let out a sarcastic laugh. "Are you naive or only stupid? Miranda is going to kill you before this ritual is even finished! It has been her plan all along."

"Bela!" Lady Dimitrescu's eyes narrowed and she raised her voice. "I'm your mother! You owe me some respect, little lady."

"I don't! Not when you drugged me and let Miranda kidnap my girlfriend. I want to know where she is."

"Daughter..." Alcina grabbed her by the shoulders and lowered her voice. An useless attempt to help her to calm down. "Aleena is gone. She's dead."

The world seemed to stop. As well as the clock. The voices. Everything. Not even Bela's brain was capable of working and processing the words she had just listened. Dead. Aleena was dead. Her Aleena. Her girlfriend. The woman she loved. She stopped breathing. Her stomach ached as much as in the night she was poisoned. She felt she was about to collapse and die again. Her heart was beating in a strange manner. It was out of control. She was out of control.

Bela raised her golden yellow eyes, filled with hateful tears and stared directly into Lady Dimitrescu's eyes.

"You..." she clenched her fists. "You lied to me... You betrayed me..."

"I was willing to let her live, daughter," the woman tried to excuse herself. "Until the last meeting. Mother Miranda told me the truth and asked me to give her the vessel."

"HER NAME WAS ALEENA," using her strength, Bela grabbed the heavy coffee table and threw it across the room, shocking her mother and sisters. "She had a name! She was NOT a vessel."

Very rare were the times Bela actually cried after being turned. She cried when she first woke up in excruciating pain, with that huge wound on the side of her head. She cried later, when she felt lost, without knowing who or what she was. And she was crying now. Without Aleena, she felt lost again. She had nothing left. She no longer wished to live. A life without that girl's contagious joy, optimism and bravery was meaningless.

"Bela..." Lady Dimitrescu tried to touch her, comfort her somehow, but the blonde girl slapped her hand away.

"I always did everything you asked me... I always tried to be the perfect daughter for you... AND FOR WHAT?" Bela sobbed. "The only thing I ever ask you, you denied me. You took Aleena from me. You chose Miranda over your own daughter!"

"I had no choice, daughter! She'd turn against us if I refused to give her Aleena. Who knows what she'd be capable of doing?"

"She's doing it anyways. She's going to kill us all now she's gotten what she wanted."

She started to walk away. She had to be alone. As far away as possible from that woman, from that family, from that stupid castle. That small bed & breakfast at the village seemed like a good option.

"Daughter, wait," Alcina went after her, as she entered her bedroom.

"Don't you ever call me daughter again, Lady Dimitrescu," Bela angered. "I'm not your daughter. You kidnapped, killed me and turned me into a monster. Who knows what you've done to my real parents. We're not your daughters, we're only your toys, your dolls. You're not that different from your sister, Donna, after all."

She slammed the door and locked it. The bedroom was still the same way they left in the previous night. The candles, the flowers, the discs... Aleena's perfume was still on her pillows. Bela threw herself on the bed, holding the pillow against her body as she cried uncontrollably.

This was all her fault. They should've finished reading the diaries earlier and found out the truth before Miranda's visit, but she distracted Aleena, wishing to spend as much time with her as possible before she left to California. She should've been there to protect her, she promised it. She shouldn't have trusted the woman she used to call 'mother'. She was an idiot and now, Aleena was gone. Forever.

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Guest Room - Present Days

Memories. Only a few days earlier Bela was afraid memories would be everything she'd have left from Aleena and now, it really was. Without anybody noticing, she went to the guest room the girl had been staying during those weeks in the castle. She obviously wasn't there, but traits of her presence were still all around.

Her clothes were still in the closet. Some where lying on the armchair or even around the floor. Bela grabbed one of her t-shirts, one from Aleena's favorite TV show. It still had her perfume on it.

"I miss you, love," she inhaled deeply the sweet fragrance. "So much it's killing me."

Then, she took the sketch book from the desk. Aleena was the most talented artist Bela had ever met. Her sister, Daniela, was a good artist, but she wasn't so creative, so expressive and precise on her traces. Bela had many classes with Lady Dimitrescu, and though she could paint decently, it wasn't her strong suit.

The drawing was still there. The one Aleena where was drawing her face. The reason why they kissed that night in the library, when she said Bela was worth being remembered.

"And now I'm the one who have nothing to remind me of you, Aleena. Remind me of every detail of your perfect green eyes, your smooth brown hair and those sweet freckles all over your body."

Her cell phone was still inside the bedside table's drawer. Bela turned it on. Aleena had set a picture of them together as her lockscreen. She smiled. In the gallery, she found many and many pictures of all the days they spent together, since the lunch Bela threw on her birthday when she arrived.

There were videos too and as soon Bela heard Aleena's voice, she couldn't help but start crying again. Why did her mother betrayed her like that? She could've helped her to save Aleena. She could've helped them to take down Miranda. That was what a real mother was supposed to do!

"Hey," she rolled her eyes, noticing she had forgotten to lock the door again. Cassandra was standing right behind her. "I'm came here to check on you."

"Leave me alone, Cassandra," Bela angered. "You didn't even like her."

"This isn't true. Aleena wasn't my favorite person in the world, not that I have one by the way, but still... I didn't want her to die."

Bela ignored her. Cassandra didn't have maturity enough to understand how she was feeling. Sometimes she wondered if her sister was even able to feel empathy for another being. But then, she was surprised by her next move.

"I'm sorry," her middle sister touched her shoulder slightly, tenderly. "I know she made you happy. Deep down, I was rooting for you both."

She forced a small smile before pulling her sister for an embrace. It was probably the first time they exchanged such a genuine moment of affection.

"We'll make her pay," Cassandra stroked her hair. "Let's kill Bitch Miranda."

The three sisters gathered together in the library. Lady Dimitrescu couldn't be aware of their plans. Daniela revealed her sisters she once heard about a dagger their mother possessed, one that was able to kill any monsters and demons.

"Are you sure about this?" Bela asked to confirm. Daniela had a creative and delusional mind after all.

"Yes," her youngest sister said. "I stole one of her diaries once. She was reporting everything about this dagger, except for its location."

"Then I'll keep her distracted while you search for it," Cassandra suggested. "I'll pretend to help her with her party for Miranda's daughter rebirth."

"What about me?" Bela wanted to know.

"You're not okay, sister. Let us handle this. Save your strength for when we stab the bitch and end her for good."

"As long as you let me do the honors, it's fine by me."

That was it. Bela would pretend to be alright. She would pretend to forgive her mother. And when the time came, she'd get her revenge against Miranda.

But then... there was nothing left for her in this world. With Aleena gone, she lost her only chance of living a new and normal life. She lost the only thing that made her feel happy and human. And if the dagger could kill any monsters and demons, well... it would be able to kill her too.

Still holding Aleena's shirt against her body, Bela lay on the bed and fell asleep, thinking of the moment they'd be reunited again in death. However, she had a terrible nightmare. Aleena was dying in her arms and there was nothing she could do.

She got up and drank some water. It had been hours since Daniela left the room to search for the dagger. She wondered if something had gone wrong. Lady Dimitrescu would never agree with that plan. She was about to leave the bedroom when the red haired girl entered the room so excited she could barely breathe.

"Bela..." she panted, "I found her!"

"The dagger?!" Bela asked. "Where is it?"

"No! Aleena. She's alive in the dungeons!"

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Dungeons - Present Days

I opened my eyes, but I couldn't see anything. The environment around me was different from everywhere I had been in the last few weeks, the air was humid but still suffocating. It also smelled terribly, like rotting flesh and blood. I tried to stand up but my leg was still badly injured. I wondered how long it'd take for the amulet to heal my body again. Maybe it only worked once. Or maybe it had to do with the fluid Cassandra injected on me before she threw me inside that nasty cell.

Speaking of Bela's sister, I was pissed. Truly pissed. It was no secret she never liked me, but I never thought she'd be able to betray her own sister like that. Telling Bela to go to their mother's office only to bring me to the dungeons was a low blow, even for her. And there was Mrs. Volkov too. I couldn't believe she was dead.

"H-Help... somebody help me..."

I tried to scream but the blood loss and the drug made me too weak. I had to find a way out. A way to regain my forces and escape that place.

It didn't take long for me to lose my conscience again. As much as I attempted to stay awake and hear any signals someone could be around, I just couldn't. I was trapped in that endless cycle of waking up for a few minutes, moan in pain and passing out again. That was it. The Mother Miranda bitch was certainly behind it. When the right moment came, she'd come and take me for the ritual. Drugged as I was, I wouldn't be able to fight it.

"Aleena!" I heard Bela's voice, approaching. Maybe it was just another hallucination. "Oh my god!"

The cell's door opened, allowing some light to enter. I was able to distinguish my girlfriend's beautiful face among all that darkness.

"It's okay, love. You'll be okay, I promise you."

I forced a small smile as she placed my head on her lap. Using a blade, she opened a small gash on her wrist and forced it into my mouth.

"Drink it," Bela ordered. "My blood is going to heal your wounds and the drug effects."

I felt my stomach twisting from the metallic taste of blood going down my throat. I definitely wasn't born to be a vampire. For a second, I thought I was going to throw up.

"Shhhh," she held me still as the nausea struck. "Just breathe. Hold it down and you'll be okay."

I did as she told. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, the nausea was slowly going away. Bela started to caress my face and I felt as some warm tears dropped on my forehead.

"Hey, I'm just a little beaten up," I assured her. "But I'm starting to feel better."

"I... I thought you were dead. My mother told me you were dead."

Why would Lady Dimitrescu do such a thing? Of course, she needed to make sure Bela wouldn't ruin Miranda's plans. She needed to convince her to not search for me.

I was already strong enough to sit. I hugged Bela very very tightly. She was sobbing desperately. Her heart was beating so fast inside her chest, it seemed like it'd explode at any moment.

"I'm so sorry," I kissed her forehead. "I'm here and I'm not leaving you ever again. I promise."

"You're the vessel, Aleena," Bela told me. "Your body is immune to the attacks of any creatures in the village. And now Miranda wants to use you to bring her daughter back to life. She believes your body is going to accept the mutation."

She also told me about my amulet. Miranda was the one to sell it to Auryk. I immediately ripped it off from my neck.

"I knew about being the vessel. I discovered it right after you left the bedroom. My father knew it and Auryk did too, this is why he wanted to get me out of the country so badly."

Bela wasn't listening to me. She was still staring at my face in disbelief, her eyes glistening with tears from the relief of finding out I was still alive. She cupped my face between her hands and pressed her lips on mine multiple times.

"I'm going to fix this," she was still crying. "I promise you. We have a plan to kill Miranda. There's a dagger hidden here in the castle, it can kill any monsters or demons. Daniela is searching for it, while Cassandra is distracting my m-," she hesitated to say that word, "my mother."

"Okay, but Cassandra was the one to kill Mrs. Volkov to capture me. We can't trust her at all!"

Of course. The bitch had more tricks I wasn't even aware of. She could shapeshift. Now I finally knew how my father was probably killed or how Auryk obtained that amulet from her. It was also obvious who attacked the castle that morning, Miranda was willing to test my healing properties again.

"She didn't. Mother Miranda can shapeshift into any person, this is why we need to be careful. We have this safe word, to know we're the actual Dimitrescu sisters. It's 'blowfly'."

I sighed and attempted to break the tension.

"And how do you know I'm the real Aleena?" I smiled.

"Trust me, love. I know," Bela kissed me, slowly and passionate. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be doing this. Imagine how disgusting it would be to kiss that crazy bitch."

We both broke into laughs. Then, she took my hand and helped me to stand up.

"We need to get you out of here. My mother can't know I've found you. Miranda is coming to pick you up at midnight for the ritual."

Through the secret passages we made to the stables, where Bela had already left my bags and a horse prepared to take me to the village.

"Once you get there," she told me. "Just drive as far as you can. Go to the city, find your brother and fly to United States."

And then I realized.

"But Bela... what about you?"

"I'm staying here, love. I'm going to kill Miranda, together with my sisters and Heisenberg."

"And then you'll meet me there, right?!" I raised my voice, fighting hard against the tears that insisted falling down. "You'll go to California."

She was in silence for a moment, trying to find the right words, but I already knew what she wanted to say. First, she handed me my cell phone.

"You said you wanted something to remember. Now you have plenty of pictures of me in this device of yours."

"Bela... what are you saying?"

"Let's be honest, Aleena," she looked down. "It was never a possibility and you knew it. We'd have to stop at the first temperature drop we came across. We probably wouldn't even make it to the airport."

"I said I'm going to find a way! It's Summer, dammit. It's not so cold away from the mountains and once we arrive in California, it'll be even hotter."

"You know your world would never accept me, love. Look at me, I have this nasty scar, this weird tattoo, I need to drink human blood to live..."

"STOP MAKING EXCUSES TO BREAK UP WITH ME! I'LL FIND A WAY! FOR ALL OF THIS. IF THEY CAN'T ACCEPT YOU, THEN FUCK THEM! I LOVE YOU AND IT'S ALL THAT MATTERS."

"I love you too," Bela kissed my forehead. "And this is why I'm letting you go."

"Even if I go, Bela," I argued, punching her shoulder slightly, "it doesn't have to end! I'm going to call you. I'm going to write you. And I'll come here to visit you too."

"In the first few weeks, love. Then, you'll become too busy to write. Our phone calls will become shorter because you'll be too tired. You'll disappear for a few days. We'll start to fade, little by little. And finally someday, you'll meet somebody new. Somebody who can make you laugh and distract you from your tragic past. Somebody who can take you to an actual date. Somebody you can introduce to your family and friends. Somebody who actually deserves you. Who can give you a future with marriage and children. Because she isn't dead. Because she isn't... me."

"I don't want any of this! I want you and only you. This future? We can have it! Here in this fucking castle or in my old small house. I don't care if I have to serve tables for the rest of my life, as long as I have you."

"You deserve a lot more than that."

"And so do you. What are you going to do, huh? To keep playing house with the woman who killed and turned you into a vampire? Serving her every wish and pretending you love this life? Or sleep with a different servant every week to hide the fact you're completely lonely and miserable?"

"Yes, Aleena. It has been this way for six decades now and it's not going to change. I have no choice, I'm sorry."

She vanished into a swarm of flies and disappeared, leaving me completely alone in the stables. I fell on my knees again, sobbing and screaming my lungs out.

"Bela, come back here!" I cried. "I love you! Please... come back..."

I still waited for a few minutes, but as I knew and as Mrs. Volkov always warned me, when Bela made a decision nothing would change her mind. Not even her mother or her sisters. Not even me.

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Bela's Room - Present Days

"I'm hungry," Cassandra complained from the couch. "Pretty please... I'm helping you with the secret mission. A scrambled egg is enough."

"Tell Lady Dimitrescu to cook," Bela remained unmoved on her bed, staring at the ceiling while wearing Aleena's jacket. The one she borrowed her when the castle was attacked. It was the only memory she'd have from the woman she loved. "She was the one to kill all the servants."

Bela was listening to an old love song from the 60's. It was the one thing she was actually capable of doing in that moment. She couldn't even manage to create different scenarios about how she could kill Miranda inside her mind, or even wander around the castle searching for the cursed knife.

She knew Aleena had safely arrived in her house at the village. She sent one of her flies to follow her and observe her for how long it was possible. The girl was completely devastated, heartbroken and it killed her to see that. She could she glimpses of the moments where she sobbed while packing her bags and taking them to her old truck. But it was the best for both of them. She'd never be safe by Bela's side. Especially while Miranda was still around.

"This music is making me nauseous," Cassandra went to the disc player and turned it off. "You should've gone with her then."

"It was the safest for her. Mother would come after me immediately and take her back to Miranda's claws."

The brunette sister went to her own bedroom and returned with a book in hands, what surprised Bela because Cassandra wasn't much of a reader.

"Check this out. I asked the Duke to get you the sequel," and she started to read, adopting the same dramatic tone as usual. "As much as I struggled not to think of him, I did not struggle to forget. I worried — late in the night, when the exhaustion of sleep deprivation broke down my defenses — that it was all slipping away. That my mind was a sieve, and I would someday not be able to remember the precise color of his eyes, the feel of his cool skin, or the texture of his voice. I could not think of them, but I must remember them. Because there was just one thing that I had to believe to be able to live — I had to know that he existed. That was all. Everything else I could endure. So long as he existed."

"Ha ha, very funny," Bela rolled her eyes. Deep down she absorbed those words. She feared someday she'd forget all those small details about Aleena too, but knowing she existed someday, and that she loved her back, was enough for her to be able to live for the rest of her immortal days. "Next time, get us something useful. Like that fucking dagger."

The door opened and Daniela walked inside, pushing a food cart.

"I brought us dinner," she announced.

"Did you kidnap a villager to cook for us?" Cassandra asked, immediately grabbing a plate.

"Of course not! I cooked it myself. If Bela can do it, I can too."

The two eldest sisters exchanged a suspicious glance, before deciding they were not so hungry after all.

"And here is the main dish..." Daniela said, lifting the lid and revealing the content inside the silver pan. "A poisonous dagger."

"You did it!" Bela exclaimed, surprised and proud.

"Yes! Let's chop that bitch to pieces."

Daniela hugged her eldest sister again. It was happening too often lately, for Bela's discomfort. But this time, she accepted the hug.

"Where's mom?" Cassandra interrupted the moment. "I haven't heard from her since I left her alone in her bedroom."

The castle was way too quiet. It wasn't the first time the servants had to be gotten rid of and they were completely by themselves. Or maybe sometimes, Lady Dimitrescu would lock herself in the Opera House to play the piano or even read a book alone in her bedroom, but that wasn't the case this time. That was a different kind of silence. A silence that indicated danger, a threat.

"Mother?!" Cassandra called, followed by her two sisters. "Where are you?"

There was no answer. They were about to reach the library when the power went out, as well as the heating system. A wave of panic instantly spread over Bela's body. She feared the cold, more than anything.

"What the hell?!" Daniela yelled. "Who's there? I'm starving and angry, so don't mess with me!"

"Shhhh," Bela silenced her. She had a feeling, a hunch about who could it be. As they approached the office, her suspicions were confirmed by the argument coming from inside the room.

"Where is she, Alcina?!" They heard Miranda yelling. "You promised me to keep her safe!"

"Mother, I swear... she was in the dungeons! There was no way she could escape. The drug was supposed to keep her down until now."

"Your daughters... they must've helped her to escape. Decades trying to find the perfect vessel and they ruined it all. They'll deal with the consequences!"

"Mother, no! Don't hurt them, I'm begging you."

In that moment, the sisters witnessed as a powerful flock of birds started to fly around the caste, shattering all the windows. As the cold air of the night in the mountains filled the entire place, the three sisters knew their ending was imminent.

----------

Eastern Europe, Aleena's House - Present Days

The tears blurred my vision as I followed my way back to the village. Sometimes, I'd stop for a minute, hoping Bela would change her mind and come after me. Why would she assume I was safer without her? If there was someone who could protect me, that was she.

As soon as I arrived, I went straight to the garage, getting my old truck to come back to life. Then, I followed to my bedroom to pack my bags. There wasn't much I actually needed to take, mostly my clothes, my laptop and a few other important belongings. I didn't plan to sell the house anyways. I could come back and take the rest later, if I had to.

My books. I would definitely take at least my favorites. Most of them were gifts from my mom. I couldn't leave those precious treasures behind. As I grabbed one of them to place it inside of my luggage, a small piece of paper fell on the floor:

'Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds. It is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken. Love alters not with time's brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom'.

I recognized it. It was an excerpt of William Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. Bela should've left it there when she was alone in my bedroom. In the end, she wrote: 'Please, think of me sometimes. I love you, forever'.

Of course I would. There was no way I'd ever stop loving that girl, or even forgetting about her at all. I could never forget about the girl who threw me the sweetest birthday party or made me the best pancakes in the world. And especially, the first girl I ever loved. I pressed the note against my chest, letting out a few tears. I placed it among my belongings, those I was going to take with me to California.

I heard the front door opening and I immediately grabbed my rifle and my blades too. Something had to at least cause some harm to that bitch. I was slowly going down the stairs in an attack position, when I heard a voice.

"Leena? Are you home?" That was my twin brother, Auryk. "I'm back."

"Auryk," I finally revealed myself. My first impulse was running to his arms, before I remembered all the lies and the betrayal. "You knew it. You fucking knew it and you hid it from me!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I was trying to keep you safe from Miranda. I planned to get you out of here before it all came to surface, but that bitch was already one step ahead."

"We have to go, right now. She's coming after me. I just escaped Castle Dimitrescu."

"Leena, no..." he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought I was clear when I asked you to stay in the castle until I returned."

"Auryk, she drugged me and locked me in the dungeons!" I yelled. "She was going to sacrifice me in a sick ritual tonight. Which part haven't you understand yet?"

"This was the plan, Aleena. When she was vulnerable, during the ritual, the agency would take the opportunity to explode this place and all these freaks."

"WHAT?! What about the village... and the people, their houses? What about ME?! What if I got killed in this process?"

"They're going to evacuate the village in a couple of hours," he explained. "And then, they'll help them to rebuild their lives or something... I don't know for sure. But they would protect us."

"Stop them!" I ordered. I couldn't let them hurt Bela or her sisters. Or even put the villagers in danger. Some of them, such as Olga, Elena and her father would never abandon that place and its traditions. "Right now! You're not going to hurt them. You won't!"

"Aleena, what the fuck? They're monsters! They're going to kill you!"

And then, I did the first thing that came to my mind. It was stupid, unplanned and completely reckless. I knocked my brother's head with the rifle. As soon as he fell unconscious on the floor, I tied him up and locked him inside Adrian's secret storage.

"I'm sorry, Auryk. But I must save my girlfriend."

[darkpoisonouslove]

The Light in You Is Shining in My Eyes

Summary: Robin is annoyed with the conditions of the nature hike she’s on when she falls through a hole in the ground to discover the domain of a nymph. The short encounter changes her life when she’s touched by Alice’s spirit and kindness.

Special credit to the guest stars of this fanfic - mosquitoes. They are playing a very important role in the lives of our leading ladies. XD

For @intothewickedwood​. I wish you all the best and many, many smiles!

The leaves rustling in the wind were drowned out by the laughter of large friend groups taking selfies and screaming children on family hikes but the cloud of mosquitoes surrounding Robin buzzed in her ears over all of that. Waving her hands to chase them away was like sticking them in the beast's mouth. Mosquito bites covered her like a map of her blood flow and the thin flannel shirt over her tank top only stuck to her skin with sweat to irritate her rather than protect her.

There was an unusual presence of mosquitoes at the spot where she was growing roots as if to taunt her. Killian had left her there to the annoying and hungry insects to follow up the fox tracks he'd spotted. Walking away was an option but the worst one. Having a phone on him didn't do much when Killian was a technological disaster so she had to wait around if she didn't want to lose him. Her mom would kill them both over the phone at the smallest mishap. Even the little pricks preying on her blood were preferable to never being let out of her room again, let alone Storybrooke.

A mosquito landed on her arm where she'd pushed the shirt off her shoulder. Robin got it before it could bite her smearing it over her skin. Her face twisted in disgust as her fingers brushed it away and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other as if that could help her escape.

She froze at a loud crack under her feet but to no avail. She plunged through the crumbling ground.

Great! Down the rabbit hole was the last thing she needed. Underground roots tugged at her hair and whipped at her hands when she raised them. There was no avoiding the hard soil under her weight or the sharp-edged stones poking her but she could protect her face and her glasses. Her heart pounded in her ears over her own screaming.

Her feet hit the ground to send the impact rattling up her bones. She was thrown forward, down into a pile of damp leaves. The smell of decay hit her from the heap of brown, yellow and red to give her a boost.

She pushed herself up on all fours. She was a breath away from a thick trunk in front of her. A few more inches and she would've face-planted into a tree. A very peculiar tree.

A woman's face was carved into it, though it could hardly be the work of a human hand or mind. Every line and curve was one with the tree bark as if shaped into it from the inside of the trunk rather than hacked into it with a blade. The woman's features were detailed despite the gentility with which they were imprinted in the tree and made her look ethereal. Like a work of art brought to life.

Robin squinted at the faint light trying to make out more before she lifted her head to look for the source. She'd fallen underground but all that was above her head was a thick net of intertwined tree branches that formed the ceiling of a tunnel. The light was coming from somewhere above, golden-white like a whisper of sun rays. It was far from bright or sufficient.

Robin pushed herself up to her knees to fish her phone out of her jeans' pocket. In the light of the screen a scratch on her hand caught her eye. She hadn't felt it through the rush of adrenaline but it wasn't the only one. She was covered in shallow slashes on her exposed skin and where her jeans and shirt had ripped. One of her bracelets had torn off as well from the fall but she ignored them. She could only have them tended to once she was back on the surface.

Focusing on her phone left her rolling her eyes at the different notifications from social media waiting for her before she'd even unlocked it. She'd told her so-called friends she was taking a hiatus on all her platforms while traveling to distance herself from the routine of Storybrooke. Yet her phone was still a receptacle for gossip that bored her to death and performative acts of friendship.

She swiped aside the notifications to get to the flashlight. It shined light into the endless darkness of the tunnel and Robin raised it towards the face in the tree.

"Hey! Stop that!" a loud voice sent her hurtling back, phone dropping in the pile of dead leaves while her heart pounded all around her in the black absence of her flashlight.

"What the bloody hell?" Robin groaned as a sturdy root poking from the ground stabbed her in the small of her back.

The tree bark stretched in front of her to shape the rest of the woman and fell back into a normal trunk when she phased out of it. "Oh, no, none of that in my park."

Robin shuffled backwards, mouth gaping open. "Wh-what are you?" her fingers dug in the ground, the pain rushing through them doing nothing to snap her out of... whatever this was. If she had to guess, she'd hit her head in the tree and had dreamed up everything after that. Either that or she'd breathed in something highly questionable rummaging around Killian's boat.

"What? What? What a rude question! I am not a what," the woman spoke fast, her diction and tone the embodiment of time if Robin had ever imagined what it would sound like. "My name is Alice and I'm a tree nymph and guardian of this park."

Robin had read about nymphs in a book her mom had borrowed from her sister. All she could recall was that they were nature spirits that lived in trees. That was true enough but she had no idea whether she should work on returning her heart back in her chest from her throat or yelling for help with all the might of her lungs.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. She swallowed quickly under Alice's calm gaze. "You just startled me." She wasn't menacing but that didn't mean she wasn't dangerous.

"Well, you were shining that flashlight in my eyes."

Right. Her phone. She'd have to grope around for it since the leaves had swallowed its light. Or she'd broken it.

"You're familiar with phones?" Robin's eyebrows rose high on her forehead.

"Thousands of people come here every day and they all bring phones with them. It would be impossible to miss it. I'd have to turn away from the park. Were you looking at your phone when you missed the hole in the ground?"

"No." Robin patted her hands down on her jeans. She'd already destroyed those. She could leave all the dust on them to keep it away from her glasses and hair. "I was trying to get rid of a mosquito."

"You failed in that," Alice was staring at her like she could see not just the outside of her in the dark but also the inside. "There's still some of it left on your arm."

Robin's face contorted again at the proof of Alice's words as she swiped her fingers over her arm. "How did you-"

"I told you. I'm the guardian of this park. I'm connected to all life here. I felt that mosquito die as you squashed it," her voice quieted and a gleam of light reflected in the wetness in her eyes. It was deafening in the aura of strength she exuded. As if all life stopped to pay its respects to a little insect.

"I'm sorry," Robin fiddled with the loose ends of her shirt. She hadn't meant to do that. She hadn't meant to disturb her.

"Don't apologize to me. It's the mosquito you wronged but apologies won't bring back its life."

Robin frowned. "It was going to bite me."

"That's what mosquitoes do. Would you kill a person for eating food or drinking water?"

"But it's... different," Robin faltered under the power of Alice's resolve. She'd never raised her voice. It just echoed around them like it reached every inch of the park, like it was a part of it. "Mosquitoes aren't-"

"They aren't important? And what is important? Not the mosquitoes, not the bees, not the sea turtles, not the melting ice caps, not the rain forests, not the ozone layer, not Earth, not anything," her voice sped up with the anxious energy seeping into it. She wasn't angry. She was distressed.

Robin's mouth hung open as her eyes filled with tears at her loss for words. Someone who was one with nature was so shaken from the things that Robin closed her eyes to when she didn't have the power to change them singlehandedly. And Alice for all her understanding and care for life couldn't change them either.

"Robin," Killian's voice dropped from the hole like a lifeline to grab on to before she or Alice could break down. "Are you down there, lass?"

Robin looked up the hole she'd fallen through. There was nothing but darkness as all the twists and turns got in the way of the light coming in. "Yeah, I'm here, Killian," Robin yelled back, chest moving easier with the relief that he'd found her.

"I'll get you out of there. Do you think you'll be able to get out if I let down a rope for you?"

"Yes, that should work." There was no other plausible option even if neither of them knew how deep she'd fallen. Killian had tons of rope on his boat. The question was how quickly he'd be able to carry them over. It wasn't a short distance to the docks on the route they'd taken.

Robin turned back to Alice to find a question clearly etched on her face. "He's a close friend of my mom and aunt's. He instantly agreed to take me on his trip when I asked to join him." It was a miracle she'd convinced her mom to let her go.

Alice nodded. "Sounds good. But you won't be able to climb up like that. Your ankle's sprained. Can't you feel it?"

Robin stared at Alice's face. Her constant concern with all life around her should have carved deep lines in her skin but it only lit her eyes up like stars in the dark tunnel. Maybe she was the source of the dim light, though if it were her, there would have been a shine brighter than the sun above.

Robin tried her ankle at the reminder of the climb awaiting her. "Ow!" she whimpered at the charge of pain shooting through her. "You're right. I won't be climbing up that hole."

"Hold still," Alice knelt down next to her slowly as if to keep from scaring her.

In the proximity Robin's eyes caught on the material of Alice's dress. She'd assumed it was somehow her hair twisted and braided around her body due to the similar color but it was strands of dry grass instead. A summer coming to an end.

"I'll heal it," Alice startled her back to reality.

Robin opened her mouth to ask how but Alice was already rolling her jeans up. She locked her hands around the exposed skin to pour energy into it. A ring of waves closed around Robin's ankle, each washing away the pain and swelling little by little.

"How do you do that?" Robin gasped, her chest barely moving in the delicate balance of the magical process even if there was nothing fragile in Alice's concentration.

"Nymph magic."

"Whoa!"

"You don't believe me?" Alice looked up at her, eyes so blue she could have captured the whole ocean in them.

"I do. That's the thing." Robin could feel the magic working its... well, magic. And even if she couldn't, she'd believe whatever Alice told her. She was genuine in a striking way that didn't cancel out her gentleness. There wasn't the rawness of cynicism and jadedness Robin had seen in her mom and aunt and anyone else who used the truth to slap you in the face with it. Alice was just honest because it was her nature just as empathy and tenderness were. All that was left a mystery was what she wanted with Robin. For someone so genuine she sure wasn't easy to read.

"Why are you helping me?"

"I've always liked robins." Alice smiled, more to herself than to Robin. "Though, you're the most prickly one I've met."

"I'm not... I'm not prickly." At least she wasn't trying to be. "And I'm not a robin." All she could make fly were arrows.

"Humans are a part of nature, too. And all nature is beautiful and needs preservation." Alice looked up at the tree branches–or were they roots?–or what lay above them. "It pains me to see the direction in which the human race is driving the entire planet. It didn't use to be like that. People were one with nature. Now they're trying to escape from it and sacrifice it in the name of progress. When nature is progress, it is growth, it is life."

"How would you solve the problem then?" Robin had always been put off by the radical notions of exterminating humankind to let Earth heal. And leaving behind her environment hadn't worked for her on a personal level either.

"By being kinder and valuing the life of every person, every animal and every plant. By respecting nature and working with it, not against it. By giving it in return as much as you take from it. It is a powerful force but it is not unlimited, you know?" Alice's hands retreated from Robin's ankle and she buried them in the leaves around them. The perfect proof of her words. Her domain along with all nature above ground and even her outfit were cycling through different seasons to replenish their energy. "It needs tending to and someone to take care of it once in a while just as it takes care of everything and everyone."

Alice pulled her hand out of the fallen leaves with Robin's phone clasped in it. The flashlight was still on and blinded Robin as Alice handed it to her. She understood Alice's frustration from before.

"How old are you?" she asked, fingers curling around her phone desperately It was only Alice's face in front of her that kept her eyes away from the screen in pursuit of some clue to the answer.

"You really are a rude one, aren't you?" Alice teased, a grin from one ear to the other on her face. She probably didn't get a lot of company.

"Wow, that old, huh?" Robin chuckled. "Well, you do look spectacular for your age." She was a vision. Robin was lucky she hadn't hit her head and missed all of this. A dark and humid underground tunnel that was the home of the kindest soul she'd ever met.

"The light comes from the trees above," Alice explained when she noticed her staring at them. So those were roots then on the ceiling of the tunnel. "They spare some of theirs for me and my tree. Just enough to let me live," Alice smiled brightly even as she was starting to fade. Her energy came from the light and there wasn't that much of it as the sun must have started to set.

"Robin," Killian's voice reached her again. "I got the rope. Here you go."

Dirt fell from the hole as the rope skidded down before it unrolled in Robin's feet. There was even some length to spare as Robin scurried to turn off her flashlight and shove her phone back in her pocket to grab the rope.

"Thank you," she looked to Alice. "Looks like I have to go. At least if we want you to stay hidden." That had to be the reason why her tree was in the tunnel of roots with barely any light reaching it.

"Goodbye," Alice clasped her hands in front of her before raising one to wave stiffly.

Robin would abandon the rope and run into her arms to remain tangled in the tree roots if it wouldn't alert the world above to Alice's existence. She nodded and climbed into the hole.

"Take care, little robin. You can do more than you know," Alice's voice had the rope slipping in her sweaty palms.

Robin craned her neck back for a last peek but Alice was gone, retired to her tree. Her face was the only thing showing in the bark, her eyes staring upwards into the mellow glow of light coming from the roots of her park.

Robin pulled herself up, arms wailing as she climbed. She had to press her back to one end of the hole and her feet into the other to push herself up. She was an archer, not a body builder. Her back would be bruised from all the roots and stones poking it on her way up and she chaffed her palms on the rope.

She must have fallen into the very core of the Earth with how long it took her to make her way out The hole was cramped and claustrophobic and the only thing that kept her going was the certainty in the pit of her stomach that there would be no Alice to heal her if she plummeted back down. Nearly losing her glasses as she glanced down convinced her to train her gaze on the passage above her and light finally hit her eyes.

Killian grabbed her hand and then her arms to pull her out. All her muscles burned as she sprawled on the ground.

"Are you okay?" His concerned face blocked out the trees above her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Robin heaved out while her senses adapted to the brightness and loud noises along with all the different smells.

A mosquito landed on the back of her hand. She winced at its bite but left it to its devices. It was only doing what was natural for mosquitoes.

"Here, you dropped your bracelet," Killian handed her the offensive thing in blue and white. It was from a girl she'd never liked and belonged in the trash. She'd worn it to keep up appearances because it'd mattered to her whether the people that were hardly her friends liked her or not. It'd mattered until she'd fallen down the rabbit hole.

Looking at her hand, the mosquito was gone to differ from the bracelets. They were the real parasites. Out of the twelve she still had on only one or two called smiles to her face. The rest were coming right off.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Killian asked as he watched her tug on them like she'd lost her mind.

"I'm fine," she repeated. Better than ever. The mist in her head was clearing to leave her with ideas. All the followers she had on her social platforms keeping up with her archery achievements would be the perfect audience for a new ecological lifestyle she wanted to start. That would be the meaningful thing she'd been looking for all along to expand her consciousness and her world. And she had only Alice to thank for opening her eyes. Thank goodness for phones and flashlights you could shine in a tree nymph's eyes.

[teabooksandsweets]

Pandorian Problems

It’s time for my occasional, that is sporadic, what I mean is unregularly-but-now-and-then-happening post about SSO, and also SsL, and even OSS, which you can interpret as meaning Old Star Stable or Original Star Stable, depending on whether you consider those games the old games, or the original games.

As not-exactly-usual, but certainly as often, my current concern is Pandoria. You might have guessed so from the title. And it’s about some problems, which you might have gathered as well.

I really wonder just how pink Pandoria is supposed to be in Star Stable Online. And I also wonder how much it’s supposed to be the “pink hell” (which it really isn’t, but I’m not sure of SSE understand that) as commonly called on here.

The “pink hell”

Is Pandoria pink in SSO? I wonder. We see it as a rather muted purple, with some pink sky and details, but not nearly as pink as it is in SsL. But then again, it is described as extremely pink in the Soul Riders books.

Now there’s three possibilities:

Pandoria looks the way it looks in SSO and that is meant by the pink description in the books, because that’s clearly pink enough.

Pandoria used to be extremely brightly pink but somehow got darker and more purple.

The part of Pandoria described in the books is also the part that appears in SsL and therefore bright pinkt, whereas the darker, purpler part of Pandoria we see in SSO is an entirely different part altogether.

We know for sure that it is a different part in SSO. The part with the Fripp statue, and the old temple-ish building, etc. is obviously in a different area of Pandoria. Why shouldn’t it look different in different places? It’s a whole planet (we’ll get to that later) and one might expect a planet to have different landscapes. But is it like that for sure? And if it’s the second possibility, then what turned it so dark? (The first would be easy to explain—just as the nights are rather light in SSO compared to OSS, for instance, it’s just made to be better for the players’ eyes.)

The “pink hell”

This is a fact: Pandoria is not Star Stable hell.

It definitely isn’t in Starshine Legacy, and it couldn’t logically be in Star Stable Online. Not only does hell imply something at least loosely based on the concept of hell, which it clearly isn’t, Pandoria is not even, as usually claimed, an evil place.

Pandoria is different. Pandoria is not some sort of underworld, or just a magic dimension, it is actually a planet that could be physically reached, if one had the necessary technology. Even though SSO strayed far from the canon of the old games, and even though the UFO has been ignored by SSE for years, the references to aliens on Jorvik have never really ceased, they were even mentioned in the most recent quests.

Pandoria can also be reached on a magical or spiritual sphere, it is “a place within all of use” (and of course, that could be a sort of internal heaven or hell of mind or soul, or whatever intended here) and its connection to the Soul Riders is on a different level than just some other planet in space.

But Pandoria is not evil. It is, essentially, a different place. It has a different atmosphere (literally, not meaning a different mood, but an actually different atmosphere) and its different sense of scale and realness, etc. is not due to being evil but being simply and plainly a planet that works differently than Earth.

The only definitely Pandorian creatures we ever met in the game (aside from the rays) are Fripp and Ydris. Ydris is a definite example of a being that isn’t intentionally evil, but in every sense alien to our world, and unable to really function in accordance with another world’s nature and physical (as well as, yes, moral) laws.

I know there’s many theories about Fripp actually being evil, maybe because his entire demeanor is so different from his portrayal in the old games and comics, but even those don’t make sense with an “officially” evil Pandoria. If Fripp were evil, then why should he and his followers claim that his home was basically hell? No, no matter if Fripp is good or bad (or different, as he clearly is!) it’s clear that Fripp loves Pandoria, that he longs for Pandoria and that he would never consider it a place of an evil nature.

(In fact, I am quite convinced that Fripp needs Pandoria, and that his exile has a terrible effect on his physical and mental state, and that in order to recover him he might actually need to go there, but that is a different matter.)

The evil in SSO—or supposed evil, for those who love the “the baddies are good and the goodies are bad” theories—came to Pandoria and to Earth/Jorvik from a different planet altogether. Garnok and his Generals are not Pandorian, and they have a terrible influence on Pandoria as well as on Jorvik.

And I have to say, a real problem for me is the effect Pandoria supposedly had on Anne. If it was actually Pandoria. For Evergray, it makes sense, as he is a normal man from Earth, and therefore in a place so physically against his nature, that he simply couldn’t endure in the atmosphere of another planet without long-term damage. (This, again, is why I honestly think that Fripp needs Pandoria, and that Ydris might not be too well of on Jorvik either.)

But Anne is the Sun of Pandoria. All Soulriders are connected to Pandoria, in some ways, deep down, from Pandoria, and so are their horses. But Anne belongs to Pandoria in a whole different way, she is essential to it, Pandoria needs Anne, and Anne naturally belongs there. Of course, she does have a human body, and maybe it was damaged by the atmosphere over a long time (although not nearly as badly as one might expect) and I personally think that DarkCore did much worse to her than the place itself.

But Anne is practically a goddess to Pandorian people. If Pandoria were a “pink hell” then Anne (and Lisa, and Linda, and Alex, and we—and the horses) were evil. Anne would be the Sun of Hell. Which she isn’t—obviously.

But Anne can be negatively effected by the harm done to Pandoria. And of course, physically she is a human of our Earth. That’s absolutely clear. She isn’t a Pandorian, in that sense. But she isn’t unconnected to it either.

Pandorian Problemsolving

I know that SSE have strayed fundamentally from the storyline of Starshine Legacy. But they still use some old pictures, reference old places and plots, and even mention the extraterrestial parts of the game. The observatories still play an important part (they even brought an astronomer and an alien together) and they never really made a clear cut from the old stories.

I don’t see why it should be difficult to put it all together. I mean—I made up all sorts of plausible, interwoven storylines to fill plotholes in the gap between SsL and OSS for an imaginary MMO set on Jorvik before SSO even existed, and before I knew what an MMO is, and I continued to do so after starting to play SSO and could still logically put a lot together with all the new storylines and inconsistancies brought into the game.

It is still perfectly possible for SSE to make sense of it all, to show Pandoria as it truly is—not good or bad, but different, and deeply connected to the Soul Riders—and fit in the old aspects of the stories with the new.

As for Fripp, I know many dislike him—but he, too, is a being of Pandoria, and his concern is to fight a very specific evil (that is, Garnok, and his followers) and to protect Jorvik as well as his actual home, without having much understanding for every personal sensitivity of every single human being he works with, and who belong to a species he simply cannot really understand.

Pandoria is dangerous, but it is also endangered, and the Soul Riders are partly beings of Pandoria, their souls are connected to Pandoria, and the common enemy is of an entirely different nature altogether. Pandoria really shouldn’t be portrayed as safe or cute, but also not as a sort of evil otherworld, but as a connected, but different place of great importance, and with deep connection to the story and its actors, including the good and the bad.

Ideas / Theories / Suggestions / Whatever

maybe Pandoria got darker because its sun was darkened

Garnok and his Generals are also from a different planet and also of a different nature than Earth and Pandoria and maybe that could be important for future storylines, except I don’t know how

Mario is an astronomer and Ydris is an alien and I want to see how that plays out in the future

does it make difference to travel to Pandoria by actual space travel rather than through portals/rifts, and if yes, how?

really, what about Fripp’s physical state, and what could bringing him to Pandoria (I know he’s in exile) or bringing him something from Pandoria do to him (e.g. food, medicine, whatever)

what about Pandorian people, more Pandorian people, especially horse people

I still wonder if those Pandorian horsepeople work like Egyptian gods—maybe they don’t have human bodies with horse heads, but can actually appear as humans or horses—who would be seperated into a human and a horse on Earth

[saint-eridell]

7:41 AM | Deku/F!reader fluffsmut

By demand of @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​, here’s a oneshot I wrote months ago while on an AU spree. Unbeta’d, I just wanted to put something up for people here to read. c:

8.3k, no major content warnings (aside from the possibility of dental work once your teeth start falling out from the fluff). All characters are in their early twenties.

It’s an exceedingly rare occasion when you and Izuku have the same day off. It’s such an uncommon thing that you can’t remember the last time it happened. When you peek over at the alarm clock next to your bed, you immediately smile - the green-faced display says it’s 7:41, a new record for Longest Morning Cuddle. You resolve yourself to keep the streak going as long as possible as you tuck an elbow under your pillow and consider dozing off again.

Something moves in the corner of your vision - an arm, your still mostly asleep brain registers - and drapes itself over your waist. A strong hand flattens itself over your midsection as an equally solid body tucks itself against your back. Izuku groans quietly, clearly still sound asleep. You chuckle quietly and curl back into him. “Good morning,” you whisper to test the waters.

You feel a set of lips curl into a smile against the back of your neck. “Morning,” he murmurs back, rough and gravelly with fatigue. Was he even awake yet? You’d seen him essentially sleepwalk to the coffee maker in the kitchen plenty of times; talking in his sleep is more than plausible. He settles again with a sigh that brushes over your neck and the back of your ear, and you can’t help but quietly laugh to yourself. Yep. Definitely still asleep, then.

Not that it matters in the slightest. The sun has only barely begun to light up the blinds that cover the bedroom windows. If he wants to sleep in, you’ll be the last one to stop him. Izuku never took time for himself anymore; between everything that Deku required of him and the constant training it took to keep up with the top spot, there wasn’t much left for the man behind the suit. Izuku’s the one in your bed, not the superhero he is during the day, and that means he doesn’t owe anyone shit for once. The fact that you have even a tiny bit to do with this makes you more than a little happy.

The hand not pushed under your pillow traces idle lines up and down his forearm, careful to not linger on any rough spots or seams. You’ve yet to work up the nerve to ask about the marks that cover his body, despite things being consistent between you for several months. It just doesn’t feel right to ask about. When Izuku wants to talk about it, he’ll say so… right?

Your nails circle the top of his wrist, then trail over the back of his hand. He picks his hand up and slides your fingertips between his knuckles before you can drift back up his arm, your fingers interlocked when he tucks them under your chin. You smile again, halfway obscured by your pillow, your conundrum momentarily forgotten. “Sneaky,” you murmur.

You feel him chuckle against the back of your neck, the soft breath that he huffs out enough to have the hair on the base of your scalp standing on end. “Observant,” he replies quietly, his voice rough from a night of sleeping like a boulder. “You turned your alarms off.”

“So did you,” you point out.

Izuku shrugs. “I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?” He’s beginning to sound a little more lucid, but his arm is still a heavy weight over your side and his frame sags into you like a weighted blanket. It’s entirely too early for him to be doubting himself, and you’re far too comfortable to even flirt with the idea of him running off.

You roll your eyes. “From getting cold,” you jab back. “You’re not going anywhere, so don’t get any funny ideas.”

His smile widens against your neck. “Funny ideas?” he asks back, his sleepy but earnest tone juxtaposed against the teeth you can feel brushing against your hairline. Even while mostly asleep, Izuku can still play the Boy Scout card like an absolute bastard. “I dunno what you mean.” You glance back toward him out of the corner of your eye, and even if he’s out of direct sight for you he’s close enough to see you looking because he immediately noses behind your ear. “What, don’t trust me?” he pouts.

You tilt your head and give him more room to nuzzle against your neck. “With my life,” you reply honestly. “But you’re a shitty liar when you’re fully cognizant and trying your hardest.”

Izuku laughs, a low sound that rumbles through you from behind and lingers under your skin as he pulls you closer. “I’m as innocent as a church mouse,” he murmurs back, mirth dripping through the mock innocence. He lets go of your hand, his index finger tracing down the hollow of your throat. “What would make you think otherwise?”

You have a hunch. You curve your back into his chest, and are rewarded with a half-hard but definitely interested shaft pressed to your backside. He lets out a quiet noise somewhere between a squeak and a groan and reciprocates the movement. “Nn- now that is entirely on you.”

You smile into your pillow. “No, that was you.” You grind against him again, slotting him between your cheeks for more contact. “This is me.” His hand immediately closes around your hip and pulls you in closer, his own hips returning the motion with enthusiasm. “Still feeling innocent?”

His lips brush over the side of your neck, not enough to make direct contact but enough to have you shivering on the spot. The huff he lets out ghosts over your loose tee shirt collar. “Why, you wanna corrupt me?” he asked back. The hand on your hip lets go, returning to palm the round curve of your ass. When he speaks again, his voice has dropped to a low rumble that sinks directly into your bones and renders them down to gelatin in mere seconds. “Because I could be convinced to lay still with the right offer.”

Bastard. That purr. Memories of the things he’s poured into your ears using that voice have gotten you through many a multi-day mission. He knows what it does to you, just like he’s perfectly aware that his shy act is precisely that - a pretense, an amusing yet convenient wall to keep all but the most intimately familiar of people out. And to top it off with a shiny bow, Izuku can weaponize it at the drop of a hat. He’s a clever, quick-witted bastard and the realization that he’s really the one lying behind you, baiting his obscenity with honey and only letting you get a taste, has a happy bubble of warmth blooming in your chest.

The absolute bastard.

He catches you off guard by pressing a kiss just behind your ear. He places another just below it and continues downward as you squirm against the hand gripped to your ass. “Thought you were gonna show off,” you point out, very aware of how warm the skin under your shirt collar is getting as he approaches your shoulder with the edges of his teeth.

He tilts his head far enough to catch your eye. He’s sitting up on an elbow that’s planted behind your head, dark teal eyes fixated on you with only traces of the fatigue that had dragged him down earlier. “Thought you were gonna convince me to,” he purrs back, a sharp edge peering through his smile.

That’s enough of a hint for you. You turn onto your back and grab him by the chin, his smile only widening as you pull him down and seal your mouths together with a hungry noise. He shifts to kneel between your spread knees without argument, draping them around his hips.The kiss gets progressively needier as you both shake what remains of your sleepiness, tongues more grappling than dancing by the time you separate for a desperately needed breath.

It takes you an extra second. The window behind your headboard has lit up enough to allow soft golden light to filter through, the rays illuminating only the longest curls that stick out of his head. His cheeks are flushed a bright pink under a spray of freckles that stand out in sharp relief, as is his heavily shifting chest as he stares down at you with wet, parted lips. The scars that cover every part of him you can see stand out like his freckles, stripes of jagged, smooth pink against weathered tan that both entice and entrance you as you look them over. It’s a fact that you’ve obviously realized already, but… Izuku really is gorgeous. Like, the kind of gorgeous that has you swallowing down butterflies the second they walk in the room.

He blinks and reaches a hand to push a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, snapping you from your reverie with a sharp inhale. “You okay?” he asks, devoid of anything but genuine concern and a softness that makes your heart ache in your chest.

You nod and dart your tongue over your lips. “Yeah,” you confirm, winded. It would be a little awkward to explain that you’d been momentarily dumbstruck and reduced to a puddle because your bedroom has God-tier selfie lighting and your boyfriend looks like an angel when he’s not spazzing out. You pull him down again, this time with a hand spread over his jaw as you dive back into trying to remove any trace of his own taste from his mouth. He tugs the hem of your shirt upward and you break away to remove the offending garment, tossing it somewhere off the bed before Izuku begins kissing his way down your bare chest.

Your head tilts back and you let your eyes close. “Show me what you know,” you breathe. “And we’ll go from there.” You feel him grin against your sternum, where he nips a small mark into your skin before doing the same on the underside of a breast. You jump at the second nip; it didn’t hurt, but it was a sharp sensation you hadn’t been prepared for. You open your eyes and begin to say something, but your complaint dies in your throat as Izuku pulls a nipple between his teeth and rolls it against his tongue. Your eyes shut again and a quiet whimper escapes you. He matches his tongue with a hand on the opposite breast, swapping off without warning and quick enough to leave you no room to react. You can’t bring yourself to look down again, but you know he’s watching: you can feel his eyes boring into you, searching for every little twitch and whimper and cataloging it away like ticker tape. He gently bites the bud between his teeth and you finally have to relent, peering down through heavy lashes as his hand trails toward your shorts.

“I think I know what I’m doing here,” he says. He pokes a finger under the waistband and pops it against your stomach, his smile widening despite how fucking earnest he still sounds. “You’ll tell me if I can do something better, right?”

UGH. Absolute fucking bastard. “You’re pushing it,” you warn, though it’s heatless and you’re smiling around the retort. He seems to know he’s toeing the line and leans in to softly bite at your throat, which you happily accept with a quiet, high pitched yelp. You slip a hand through the curls on top of his head, and he arches his head into your palm with an appreciative groan against your collarbone. His hair is a melting point for him; one good scratching session and he’s passed out in your lap every single time. For how dense the curls are, they’re incredibly soft and slip effortlessly around your fingers like strips of dark green silk as you drag your nails across the crown of his head.

Izuku melts underneath your soft grip. For a moment he seems to forget where he’s going and any sense of what he’s doing, only aware of the nails running through his hair. Just as Izuku’s shoulders begin to slump, your fingers slowly tighten until you have a decent handful of curls wrapped around them when they begin to tug. Izuku keens into it with another groan, this one lower and guttural around his slackened jaw. “Don’t go to sleep on me,” you murmur down to him.

He grins against your sternum with half-open eyes. “Couldn’t if I wanted to,” he promises. You give the top of his head a gentle push, and he quickly gets with the program and shifts his way downward. He kisses your abdomen, then just above your navel, then just below it as he grabs the waistband of your shorts and guides them down over the swell of your hips. You let go of his hair and lift your ass to let him pull them all the way off before he throws them somewhere out of sight.

You eye his basketball shorts with disdain, lingering on the heavy tent standing up in the front. “You’re wearing too much,” you pout.

Izuku glances down to his lower half. “Later,” he replies. Without bothering to strip them off, he shoots you a grin and lowers himself with a startling quickness. You yelp, both in surprise at the sudden movement and protest at being blown off, but immediately shove the noise back into your own mouth as you slap a hand over it. He lays his chest flat to the bed in one quick shift and pins you with a wide, intense stare as he drags his tongue in a single flat stripe up the length of your slit. They part against the flat surface of his tongue and he wastes no time pressing inside you, his terrifyingly strong hands wrapped around the bend of your hips to keep you glued to his face.

A strangled moan creaks out as you writhe on the spot. For how often Izuku chokes on his own tongue in day to day life, he’s an undeniable master when he puts it to work. He’s long figured out which angles and spots made you lose your marbles, and he cycles between all of them as easy as turning a page. Your hands once again grab into his soft curls as your thighs slacken and fall away from his ears. He latches around your clit when he feels you relax, laving his tongue over it and pulling another sharp cry out of you as your legs tighten over his ears again.

He keeps you hovering there for what feels like hours. He doesn’t bother moving either of his hands, seemingly too content to press finger-shaped bruises into the valleys of your hips as you slowly fall apart in his arms. You glance downward and feel the same brick from before smash into your chest: he looks wild with tousled green curls sticking out in every direction, his wide eyes locked onto you with laser-sharp focus over the curve of your mound with the barest hint of an obscured smile just beneath. He knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing, and the devilish curl of his tongue through the wetness that has collected at your opening screams it.

“Am I doing alright?” he asks when he surfaces for air, his wet cheek pressed to your inner thigh. His breath tickles your overstimulated folds and you jump on the spot. You nod, unable to formulate a verbal response. He grins against your leg, his lips shining in the faint morning light. With the shadows pulled into sharp relief, his darkened eyes look almost bottomless as they follow your every movement. He watches you, hungry and devious in equal parts, before briefly biting into your thigh and returning to your slit.

Your back arches off the bed as you suck in a sharp breath. He lets go with one hand and traces a fingertip through your soaked folds, prepping it briefly before sliding it into you all the way to the top knuckle. You keen hard with your lower lip between your teeth. His hands are covered in calluses, the shift of just one finger inside you enough to make your brain short circuit. Despite their roughness, he curves them at the exact angle to light you up from the inside out and continues laving over your clit to keep you off center.

It works. By the time he slides a second finger inside, you’re openly moaning toward the ceiling. You glance down again, and for the first time he isn’t looking up at you. His eyes are shut and pinched with focus, his forehead free of any of the usual tension he carried there. He’s as lost as you, drowning in the same obscene noises that echo off the walls as he ruts down into the comforter through the fabric of his shorts. In an instant the intimacy of the moment punches you in the gut, ripping a loud moan out of you as your fingers grip tighter into his hair.

“M’go-” No good. Words aren’t happening. You make do with pulling him into you by the scalp, something he seems to be completely fine with as he relaxes his neck and picks up the pace with his fingers. Your breathy noises become full on wails as he pushes you closer to the edge and, with one particularly skillful twist of his wrist, shoves you over. Your thighs clamp around his head as you wail his name up toward the ceiling, your back arched high as every muscle in your body contracts at the same time. He keeps up the pace until you finally collapse like a broken marionette, falling to pieces around him as you struggle to regain your breath.

He leans his head against your thigh and hugs it to his cheek with his clean hand, his own breathing harsh and ragged. He’s flushed from the hairline down, a sharp contrast to the damp green curls that stick to his forehead. He’s obviously worked up and hasn’t stopped grinding himself down into the mattress (he might not even realize he’s doing it, with how hazy his eyes are), but he’s watching you with a wet grin as he corrects his own breathing. “You okay?” he asks again.

You roll your eyes toward the headboard behind you. “I’m pretty sure I just lost feeling in my feet for a second,” you respond between exhales. It’s hard to hold your head up, let alone form cohesive words, when your entire body feels like it’s been melted to a sticky puddle.

His eyes flicker wider, his body suddenly very still. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out.

You let a cackle roll out of you unabated. “Are you joking?” you ask back. “Relax, Izuku. That’s a good thing.” Your head luls back as your neck begins to protest how heavy your head is. The pillow catches it and you spend a moment just staring at the ceiling, letting the last of the aftershocks roll through you as Izuku kisses at your inner thigh.

His cheek shifts along your thigh as you regain a chunk of your composure. He’s staring up at you, his cheeks still flushed a bright pink and his lips parted. “I know how to do more,” he murmurs into the pause. A hand slips off your hip and down to his shorts, which he finally peel off and kick away without any regard for where they landed. He sits up and guides your legs back over his hips, hovering over you with his bare dick resting in the cleft of your ass. “If you want to see.”

You pick your hips up in response, giving him something to grind against as you roll into his lap. His jaw slackens in response as he takes a handful of ass on each side and squeezes, lifting you into the motion of grinding against him. His arms flex, the sharp lines of muscle he’d built up over many years standing out in bold, dark lines as he effortlessly holds your weight with just his grip. You let him take hold of your lower half and relax into the pillows under your head and shoulders, your stomach muscles pulled taut against the arch of your back. If he’s going to show off, then you can dish it right back.

He swallows hard, his eyes widening. A devilish spark dances across them as he stretches a hand down between you and presses the pad of his thumb to your still sensitive nub. You squeal in response and thrash in his grip, but he holds you steady and guides you through it as he takes his time preparing himself. When you twist and catch the head of his length for a brief swipe across your soaked entrance, you buck again and only fail in pushing him into you because he grips your hips tighter and forces you to stay in one place.

“Easy,” he soothes in a low tone. “We’ll get there. Don’t wanna hurt you.” Fuck that, if you get what you want it’s going to hurt in every good way possible, and the sooner you get started the better. You twist in his hands again, but he’s far too strong and holds you in place with obvious ease. He seems to read the tension building on your features and swipes himself through your folds just as much as he absolutely has to before pushing you down half of his length.

The sting of him pressing your walls outward is intense, almost blinding. You let out loud cries in unison, his jaw nearly falling off his face with visible effort to maintain his composure. “So tight,” he manages to growl out from behind his teeth after his jaw snaps shut. “Don’t move, please, not yet.” You obey his plea and go still in his hands, watching intently as his eyes slide shut for just a moment. He pulls himself almost all the way out of you with a slow inhale, exhaling as he thrusts in again and ending it with a sharp little noise from the bottom of his chest when your hips seat together.

Izuku isn’t an absolute monster behind the zipper, but he’s got more than enough and he absolutely knows what he’s doing with it… despite his typical oblivious act. As soon as you’re both adjusted he begins thrusting deep, using his wide planted knees as a sturdy base to bounce you off his lap with hard pops of skin. It’s rougher than it probably should be, but the burn of it is so incredible you can’t bring yourself to tell him to slow down. He watches from above, ragged breaths puffing out of him every time you thrust back against him. He hits a spot that makes your lungs freeze and he thrusts there again hard and deep, rolling against it with a drawn out groan that seems to come directly from his core. You reciprocate the with a desperate one of your own, leveraging your toes against the bed to push down against him as your eyes roll toward the back of your head.

“Beautiful,” he gasps out, his grip nearly unbearable across your ass until he lets go and you finally get some relief. “So fucking beautiful.” You moan in gratitude and let your hips relax into his palms as he guides them down so your spine is flat to the sheets again. He leans in to plant his forearms flat to the bed over your shoulders and kisses you deep. You wrap your legs around his slim waist, your arms snaking around his neck so you can reach his hair once again. He rumbles into the kiss as you find a couple handfuls of curly green locks at the back of his head and give them an experimental squeeze, his hips snapping into you in response.

Tugging his hair like a set of reins kicks him into a higher gear. As he drills you into the mattress, all hesitation abandoned, he gasps and groans into the crook of your neck without a single attempt to quiet them. A litany of praise and vulgarity mixes in with the desperate breaths, mirrored by your own calls to deities and encouragement when he finds an angle that has your legs clamping around him hard enough to hurt. “Fuckin- unh, so good,” he chokes out, his lips a mere inch from your ear. “Mine. All mine. Nn- fuck, lift up like that oh my God yes…”

He can’t seem to stop his mouth, and every word out of it is praise for you as he hovers in your face, unavoidable and stripped down to his rawest thoughts as you hold him close with both hands. “So gorgeous. So sweet. Wanna taste you every day forever.” It’s so sincere, so unfiltered and so goddamn him it makes your heart ache like it’s trying to burst in your chest as he floods you with a wave of vulnerability you’re not sure you even deserve.

You feel a coil begin to tighten behind your navel as he presses hard kisses to the front of your throat, his pace needy and focused as his words begin to slur together and mutate into simple noises from the back of his throat. “Almost there,” he warns, his voice high and tight against your skin. You nod your acknowledgment and pull him by the hair until your faces are level again, when you crush your lips together and immediately seek out his tongue. The kiss itself is more an open mouth display of tongues and obscene noises than anything intimate, both of you momentarily chasing your own release until they sync up and, with one last hard tug to his scalp, you wail his name toward the ceiling again and let your orgasm completely wreck you.

Izuku follows immediately afterward, his teeth sunk into the hill of muscle where your neck meets your shoulder, muffling the shaky moan that tore through him. He seats himself deep and rides out his own release with hard rolls of his hips, your insides lighting up hot with the load he streaks your inner walls with. You hadn’t even been aware that it was possible to go that deep, but there’s no denying it when you can literally feel where he is.

The silence that lapses is punctuated only by ragged breaths and the smack of lips pulling off each other as you both struggle to piece your brains back together. Unable to sit still you let go of his hair and skate your nails down his back, earning you a quiet groan of approval and a scar-riddled back arching up into your fingertips. “Holy shit,” he breathes to break the silence, looking down at you with a lopsided grin. “Good morning, sunshine.”

You giggle and hurriedly exhale. “Morning,” you reply airily. You reach a hand up to brush away a particularly long curl that’s stuck to his forehead. He watches your hand but doesn’t move away from it, and when the stray lock is pushed away he gently takes your hand and guides it to his lips. He opens his mouth to say something but pauses, seemingly reconsidering it and choosing to kiss your knuckles instead.

You frown at him. “What?” you ask. “You can’t make a face like that and then just leave it.”

Izuku opens his mouth again, appearing like he might argue, before he closes it again. You arch an eyebrow up at him. “Sorry, sorry,” he says defenselessly with a shake of his head. “It’s hard to think.”

You give him a soft smile. “Relax. You’re okay.” You guide your tangled hands toward your face and brush your lips over his knuckles like he did to yours. “Now, what were you gonna say?”

The moment of focus seems to be enough to force a hard reset of Izuku’s brain. He blinks hard and shakes his head with a chuckle. “Sorry,” he repeats, holding his hands up again when you shoot him a dubious look. “I was gonna say that-” He pauses again and scratches idly at the back of his head. His gaze averts to the few inches of bedsheet that sit between them and it clicks - he’s getting bashful about something. Your dubious look shifts into a cheshire grin as you sit up to look him in the eye on his level. “I was gonna say- um…”

You nod to encourage him, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs around another hard swallow. “Go on,” you goad, sitting forward a little to distract him with your bare chest. It works; his gaze drifts downward and lingers for a few seconds before he snaps his focus back up to your face, his cheeks once again flushed a pale pink.

“Well…” He rubs the back of his neck and squirms on the spot. He peers around the room like he expects someone to be eavesdropping behind the dresser or something before leaning in, a hand cupped around one side of his mouth. You roll your eyes but play along and lean in closer so he can whisper in your ear:

“You’ve got a nice ass.”

Your elation flips to irritation like a lightswitch, and just as quickly you’re letting out a loud, raucous laugh. You grab a pillow from behind you and whip it in a crescent to peg him across the face with it. He takes the shot with a muffled grunt and bats the pillow down to his lap, a wide grin slapped across his face. “What? It’s true!”

“That’s not what you were gonna say and you know it,” you grouse back through a mock look of anger before poking your tongue out at him. He returns the gesture and the two of you fall into a moment of spastic laughter before coming back to reality with a chaste but tender kiss. You can forgive the leading on; he’d already communicated what remained unsaid in the bruises you can feel forming across your skin, on the teeth marks stinging at your shoulder, on the soft lips and sharp teeth you can still feel pulling at your bottom lip. You break it off and take his hand, scooting toward the edge of the bed and dragging a willing Izuku with you. “Shower, then coffee. You’re stuck with me today.”

Izuku presses the back of his free hand to his forehead as he follows you toward the bathroom door. “Oh no, whatever will I do?” he titters.

You shrug as you push the door open. “Get your dick sucked if you’re good.” You let go of his hand and enter the bathroom, a wide-eyed Izuku hot on your heels.

---

@the-angriestpineapple @deadassqueeraf @practisewhatyoupeach @cherrycolabomb

[todoroki-waifu]

ayoo! I saw that requests were open so here I am! Anyways can I requests that there's a fem reader that is best friends with todoroki and he's dating (anyone) and one day when class 1a is chilling in the living room having a movie night and a kid from the future time travel there and everyone is confused asf and sooner or later it comes out that the child was todoroki's and the readers child and everyone's like damn cuz yk he has a whole s/o next to him LMFAOSJJ IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO CONFUSUNG😭😭

I’m so sorry this is so late! 😢 Thank you so much for your request! And it wasn’t confusing. This was an interesting one. If I did misinterpret it wrong, I’m sorry! Lol hope you like it ^^ 

Note:  __(u/s) will stand for unknown/unnamed significant other for Todoroki.

Todoroki x F! Reader (kind of?)

Word Count: 1,987

Genre: Angst, slight fluff, sci-fi, maybe a little fantasy? (whatever time travel would fall under)

Warnings: Female reader and Todoroki with a gender neutral s/o.

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

Midoriya, Iida, Todoroki, __(u/s), and Jirou were preparing snacks for class 1a's weekly movie night. Iida, Midoriya, and Jirou were the first to leave the kitchen, bringing with them cups, beverages, napkins, straws, and disposable plates. While Todoroki finishes up placing a variety of chips into different bowls, he looks over at his __(u/s).

He smiles fondly at them, walking over to his partner and wrapping his arms around them.

"Need any help?"

"T-todoroki-kun! You scared me." __(u/s) was concentrated on microwaving the popcorn at the correct temperature, afraid of triggering the fire alarm.

"Really? Am I that frightening?" He pouts slightly.

"Not at all! I guess my mind was elsewhere. I wanted to make sure that I didn't burn the popcorn." __(u/s) laughed sheepishly before pecking his cheek.

Both heads turn towards the kitchen entrance when they hear the sound of steps entering.

"Relax! Just me." You saw their slightly stiffened look. They were a fairly new couple so they were still getting used to showing their affection in front of other people. Todoroki and his partner were only comfortable around you, being that you're his best friend.

You've known him for a while and have been there for almost an entirety of his childhood and up to now. He still has yet to tell his significant other about his past, the poor boy afraid of scaring his current lover. 

Well, he'll tell them some day. Just not right now. But that was how much Todoroki trusted you.

He was also so grateful that __(u/s) was comfortable around you. __(u/s) knew of his and your relationship and although they were a bit weary of you in the beginning, they ended up loving you later on. You proved that you retained no feelings for the half and half student and that you had the same intentions as the rest of class 1a. Which was to be his loyal and supportive friend.

"Didn't mean to interrupt. Mina and Toru wanted some ice cream." You quickly went to the freezing, grabbing two tubs of the frozen dessert along with two huge spoons.

"Don't take too long, bestie. I want to get some cuddles with __(u/s), too." You joked as you walked out to the common area.

------

Midoriya saw you approaching the group and was the first to assist you.

"Here, let me get that." He grabs the two cold containers, placing it on the table. "Who wants which flavors?"

He calls out to the gang while a few responded back and you helped the All Might fanatic. Once you finish passing out the bowls, Todoroki and his partner come out with a few salty snacks to add to the menu.

You sat in between Midoriya and __(u/s) on the floor with a plate full of assorted goods. Todoroki and __(u/s) share a bowl of chips and ice cream, the couple feeding each other occasionally. You smile at your best friend, so happy for him.

Although you were a bit jealous that he found love before you. You felt like a third wheel whenever both of them would ask you to hang out.

Oh well. Romance will come whenever the time is right. Besides, you weren't that focused on relationships nor did you really have anyone in particular that you liked.

Your thoughts refocused on the blaring music coming from the TV, indicating the start of the movie. You excused yourself after a while, heading to the kitchen to grab some more water bottles for yourself and for a few.

When you reach the kitchen door, a small swirl of blue energy blocks your way. You watch as the ball of energy expand and white electrifying rays spread from the center. Before you could react, the energized orb immediately explodes, the blast causing you to fall onto your bottom. Not only did you feel the force push you back, but you felt a sudden weight holding you down.

"__(y/n)! Are you okay?" Midoriya and Bakugou are the first to respond to the blast with Todoroki not too far behind them.

"Y-yeah, I think so?" You replied, carefully sitting up. You look down at the weight on your lap, noticing it to be a small child with ___(hair color) hair and a single streak of white and red. When they peer up, you see dark grey and light blue eyes staring back at you.

"Mommy?" The child blinked up at you then smiled brightly. "Mommy! I found you!"

"M-m-mommy!?" You screeched out, feeling the little one embrace you tightly.

"You're a mother?" Uraraka chimed in.

"I didn't know I was one!"

"Mommy, where did your big belly go? Did my little sister finally come out? Where is she? I want to meet her! I'm so excited to be a big sister!"

"Excuse me!? Little sister?"

"You had another baby?" Hagakure gasps loudly.

"How? I never got pregnant! I don't even have a boyfriend nor am I seeing anyone!" You answered her back then sighed loudly. "H-hey kid, ummm, first off, are you okay?" You wanted to make sure this tiny stranger wasn't injured.

"Yes, mommy! I'm okay."

"Alright, well, I hate to tell you this but I'm not your mom. But maybe I can find her for you?"

"What do you mean? Why do you say that? Of course you're my mom!" Her eyes begin to fill with tears.

"It's just kind of impossible. Listen, you said that I had a big belly and you were waiting for your little sister, but right now, I don't have that big belly. I didn't even know you were having a sibling."

"M-mommy, are you-you j-joking? It's not funny! Waah!" Your future daughter begins to cry loudly and you immediately hug her.

"Don't cry! Everything will be alright! We're going to find your mommy, okay?" You look around the room to your classmates, sending them a pleading look.

"Hey man, that's your brat." Bakugou stuffs his hands into his pocket, about to not involve himself in your little dilemma. He didn't have patience for children at the moment.

"Bakugou!" You scolded him. "She's not a brat. She's just lost and scared.  Take it easy on her. And if you want to be a hero, help me find the kid's parents. Isn't that what a hero is supposed to do?"

"I ain't no babysitter!"

"Dude, that's not manly at all! Let's help them out." Kirishima places a hand on his blonde friend's shoulder.

"Time travel!" Midoriya blurts out of nowhere. Once he receives his classmates' confused gazes, he finally begins to clarify. "I think she's really your daughter, __(y/n). She looks a lot like you and she seems really attached to you. She must've came here from the future when that blast happened. That's the only plausible explanation."

"I'm sorry that everything is confusing and scary right now, but I think I figured out what's going on." Midoriya squats beside you and your daughter, placing his hand on her back. Your daughter sniffles a couple times before looking at the green haired boy.

"Uncle Deku? How... how come you're so small?" She wipes her eyes while he could hear a few snickering in the background.

"Yes, well, I'm sure you're noticing that everyone is different. It's because-"

"Daddy!" Your daughter gasps loudly when she finally sees Todoroki. She jumps out from your arms and rushes to the dual quirk user, holding her tiny arms up to him. Todoroki blinks at the child, unsure of what to do.

"Huh? How come you're not holding mommy's hand?" She notices Todoroki's fingers linked with __(u/s).

"D-daddy?! You mean, Todoroki-kun is the father?" Midoriya shrieks at the reveal.

"W-what?" __(u/s) frowns deeply, slowly slipping their hand away from Todoroki. "You mean, you and __(y/n)? But I thought that... "

"Wait, no, that is impossible. She must have me mistaken for someone else. __(y/n) and I do not harbor any feelings for one another nor do we share any children together. Please believe me." Todoroki attempts to grab __(u/s)'s hands, but they back away quickly.

"Yeah! Shouto's right! We're only best friends. That's it. You know that. How can we have a kid together when we're not even a couple? He likes you; not me. I might be single, but I'm really not interested in anyone at the moment."

"Daddy, what is going on? I thought you love mommy?" Your poor daughter was unknowingly exacerbating the situation.

"I... I gotta go." __(u/s) starts to gather their things.

"Please, wait." Todoroki grabs their arm but they pull back suddenly.

"Don't, Todoroki. This is too much. I don't think I can continue this." He tries to plead with them to stay, but __(u/s) shakes their head. "Just, please leave me alone. And please don't contact me. Either of you." ___(u/s) eyes both you and Todoroki.

Your best friend watches sadly as __(u/s) leaves, the room being weighed down by the silent tension. It was only when Denki utters a word that brought back the noise.

"Damn... " The electric hero feels a sudden, sharp jab to his right side. He looks at the source to find Jirou glaring at him.

"Mommy? Daddy?" The little one blinks at Todoroki and then at you, uncertain of what just transpired. You knew your best friend needed space to himself for now so you decide that you would approach him later. Besides, you felt like you were responsible for his breakup. You felt too embarrassed to face him.

So instead, you focus on your little girl, gently grabbing her hand and pulling her to the side. Midoriya begins to explain to your daughter why things were so different and she slowly begins to understand.

-------

Todoroki walks outside of the dorm building, situating himself on the first few steps. His mind tortures him by replaying the scene where his relationship crumbles. He doesn't understand. What could he have done to preserve his romance with ___(u/s)?

But then his mind directs him to his future daughter. Todoroki was a bit angry, yes, but he couldn't blame the young child seeing that she came from a very different timeline. It honestly wasn't her fault.

Then who's fault was it? His? Yours?

No, it was no one's. If he was truly meant to be with you, why wasn't he jumping for joy? Because at this point in time, he was simply not attracted to you. He honestly didn't understand how you two formed a family together.

Then his mind wanders elsewhere.

Would being around you continue to ruin his future relationships? Would he truly be happy if you ended up being his lifetime partner? According to his future child, you two were going to have another one so that had to mean something.

But he didn't love you. 

Yes, he cared deeply for you and you both knew everything and anything about each other, but you and him had a different kind of bond.

Then the thought of sacrificing his friendship with you for the sake of his future relationships began to hurt his heart. But you'd understand, right? Todoroki wanted to find love eventually. He also did want to work everything out with __(u/s).

But would separating himself from you be the right answer? How would that affect the future? He felt so torn. He has a family with you in the future, but his heart does not yearn for you. And you don't love him back like that either.

Right?

As he thinks on his feelings for you, he goes back to when you two were children and when you first met. He remembers almost everything that you two shared together all the way up to the present. 

The arguments. The late night study sessions. The dangerous villain encounters. The hero internships. The cultural festival. The laughter.

Your warmth. Your kindness. Your smile.

His heart slowly starts to beat faster.

But he didn't love you, right?

[matronoftheblackrose]

C sees C

Zayne clicked his tongue as he checked his watch. The waning rays of the sun and the dimming of Piltover coincided with every second ticking closer to 6:00 PM. Corina asked all of her employees to work two hours longer this day, and the Piltover Enforcers needed to be given their signal. Zayne looked left, then right as he walked outside of the blooming factory. Past the greenery and the foliage, he took a step outside where a rat scurried across his boot. If he was as soft as a Piltvan then maybe he would have jumped in shock but nah, Zayne was used to far worse conditions than a greenhouse and mice.

Zayne rolled his left sleeve back, exposing his metallic cybernetic limb. He had to blink and squint from the sudden ray that reflected into his eyes, and in that moment, he swore something darted past him. Zayne looked behind him to find- nothing there. Other than the artificial lights of the greenhouse humming with energy and the vats of fertilizer being pumped throughout the complex. With a shake of his head, Zayne refocused on his tasks at hand.

With a twitch of his thumb, Zayne’s hextech crystal clicked to life in his ear.

“Rat to Dog? The big C remains. Mice scurrying to alternate corners in 10.”

A harsh buzz was followed by, “Roger. Begin in 10.”

Zayne clicked his thumb again, let out a sigh of relief, and looked all about to make sure no one was around. He could swear there was something just, in the corner of his eye, but no matter what, no matter how he looked, Zayne saw nothing. Even when his goggles locked on, zoomed in and identified the spewed remains of a liquid in a nearby alleyway to most likely be vomit.

With another sigh of relief, Zayne clicked his thumb again. “Sheriff? 10 until the War Storm. Do as you will.”

A smooth, soft click was followed by, “Thank you. In and out in-”

A hand came over Zayne’s mouth. Something pressed into the base of Zayne’s spine, and another hand picked the earpiece out, and in Zayne’s voice, the presence said, “Sorry, you need to wait 5. Guard schedule changed. I’ll tell the En’s storm to hold for another 10, else you’ll lose your chance.”

Zayne wanted to react in some way, but he felt his body go utterly limp- whatever martial arts this was, Zayne could not lift a limb. He also knew that the hand wrapped around his mouth certainly looked human, but was anything but. The way the fingers bent were not like a human’s, to be able to wrap so perfectly around his face to mute him completely and allow Zayne to breathe only through his nose.

A pause. “Are you sure?” the headpiece asked.

“Yes, Sheriff. Positive.”

Another pause. “We can’t miss this chance to lose C. Are. You. Sure.”

In that instant, Zayne knew that this person was toying with him. The hand flexed ever so slightly, straining Zayne’s jaw. He could feel his bones bend, and if the hand bothered to clench, Zayne knew it could crush his entire skull with pathetic ease.

“Ten thousand percent, and three quarters, Sheriff. Trust me, Sheriff.”

Zayne’s eyes went wide. How the hell did this ‘guy’ know Zayne’s dumb joke?

“Alright. 10 it is” The comm line went dead.

The presence asked, in Zayne’s voice, “May you please call your Wardens? I wish to ask them to arrive in another 10.”

Zayne’s mind raced, but his thoughts turned to pain as the hand on his jaw squeezed again.

“I honestly would love playing with you a little more, seeing how you are actually aiding my Sheriff, but I have business to attend to and we’re in a rush. I do not like violence, but today is a very personal day for me and I simply cannot be late,” the presence continued. “Do as I say, and no one gets so much as scratched. I promise you."

The hand released Zayne’s mouth, giving him the chance to spit back, “And how can I trust you?”

The presence turned Zayne around, and as Zayne’s turned paler than death, under the dimming rays of Piltover’s sun, the presence simply asked, “Do you have a choice?

---

Corina caressed the petals of her wolf’s bane flower that was exposed to an open window and to the sun, fully knowing that so very soon, the Enforcers will be arriving and her master plan could be enacted. It took some time, oh yes, but a single stroke would remove those pesky officers with ease, and then she could bring forth into Piltover-

“Miss Corina? Ma’am? May I have a word with you?” Zayne asked.

Corina turned around, her metallic nails clicking. The hum of electrical lights above flickered, Zayne with his hands in his pockets, standing between two rows of planted Noxian oleander. Corina smiled at him and beckoned him to her.

“Yes, Zayne. You may approach,” Corina cooed. “What is it you wish to discuss?”

“Well, a coupla things,” Zayne admitted as he walked forward. His right hand came up and caressed the poisonous petals of the flowers. “First and foremost, guess you know what I’m doing here, huh?”

Corina’s fingers clicked. She could feel the toxins from her suit’s canisters course through the tubes and fill the chamber of her fingertips. “No, do tell, what are you doing here?”

Zayne smirked and waved Corina off. “Playing coy? Come now.” His voice changed almost entirely- now slightly higher pitched but far more relaxed, with just a slight Demacian accent as he twirled and skipped underneath the flickering lights. “I know you’re pretending to be ‘C’, Corina. No reason to play games with me.”

Corina blinked, unsure of what just happened. “Pardon?”

“I said there’s no reason to play games with me. If this were a game and I were playing chess or some other alternate ‘intelligent’ game, you’d be playing connect four and failing to count to three,” Zayne continued with a chuckle. He threw his right hand out and batted one of the more annoying oleanders out of his way.

Corina realized just then that not only were Zayne’s mannerisms off, but the fact that he was touching Noxian oleander that she genetically bred herself, and did not react with violent itching or wheezing, or collapsing to the ground in paralyzed agony, was slightly off. “You’re not Zayne, are you?”

“And you have managed to count to two! Your intellect shocks me!” Zayne laughed. 

Corina collected herself, furrowed her brow and pointed a finger at Zayne. “Do watch your tongue, cur. You may have caught me off guard at first, but please, do you know who you are talking to?”

Zayne snorted and raised his right hand up in mock apology. “You are correct. Please forgive me, Corina Veraza the Chembaron- my deeper apologies, I mean Corina, the Mastermind of Chembarons and Zaunites.”

“Thank you. Now, what do you want?”

“Back to 1, huh? You ask questions but not the right questions.” The light flickered, Zayne’s goggles reflecting the light every little which way in the dimming room. “Let me answer your question with a question: What do you think I am here for?”

“If you were Zayne, then to raid my cultivair with Piltover’s Wardens and that daft Caitlyn. But you are not, so- honestly, you can be here to make a deal with me or to kill me. The former being far more plausible than the latter.”

Zayne clenched his jaw, took in a deep breath, and responded, “I’m sorry to say but the former is far less likely than the latter at this rate. And the latter I would daresay, is not something ‘up’ in my priority list. No, I’m here to take back what is mine, and to take something so very dear of yours.”

Corina raised an eyebrow. “Oh yes, you are here to take my magnum opus? Please, as though I would let you. I have investors that are interested in it, and if you wanted it so badly, we could have negotiated a price at a better time than this. Is that all?”

“Your magnum opus? Which one?” Zayne pointed behind him just as the electricity shut off for nearly a full two seconds. When it flicked back on, Zayne’s smile was just an inch too wide- a few teeth too many. “Your ‘magnum opus’ in your office? A glorified weed according to your own documents that would cause severe bodily waste leakage if consumed, a so very crude joke for a crude mind. No, no no. I am here to take back my reputation, and to take Meiraxa.”

Corina’s body went cold. Her actual magnum opus, the one that could in fact eliminate the Zaun Grey, named after her sister, a fact no one alive should know. Corina brought her hands up and was about to unleash her full fury when she took a moment, thought, and smiled. “Since you know so much about me, may I ask who I am speaking to the corpse that will be fed to my children?”

Zayne snapped his fingers, brought out his left, very human arm, and clapped at Corina. “Excellent! You counted back to two! Bravo!”

Corina’s rage cracked her stoic mask, but she said nothing.

Zayne continued to speak, this time in Corina’s exact voice, “You finally did your best to recognize an ant’s existence! Have you finally noticed how damn quiet it is in here? Your guards went home. Have you been too distracted to see the time? I changed it when you weren’t looking so you wouldn’t be ‘panicked’ about being time efficient. Who am I?”

Zayne pointed at himself, bowed, and said in Zayne’s voice, Corina’s voice, that Demacian voice, and a multitude of other voices in horrifying unison, “I am C. The C. You took what is mine, and so I will take that back and more.”

Corina paled.

“You took my moniker because you thought it’d be easy to lead Caitlyn here into a trap, kill all of the wardens in a single stroke, and have more freedom to pursue your stupid, selfish desires in Piltover like the so very good ecologist you are,” C continued. He laughed and wagged a finger at Corina, speaking in his Demacian voice again, “Which, I could appreciate! Imitation is the purest form of flattery-”

Corina clicked a button on her palm, and the bed of oleanders nearest to C exploded, sending wood splinters and plant matter everywhere. The detonation was small and controlled, but it was more than enough to utterly annihilate a human at point blank range. The lights flickered, the smoke parted, and Corina stumbled backwards, eyes wide with fear and disgust.

Flesh slurped, skin ripped, bones creaked and cracked, and Zayne reformed in front of Corina under the strobing light of failing electricity above. He cracked his head to realign it, which made each vertebrae of his spine crack one after the other like a macabre xylophone.

“C the Mastermind, your genius plan is to blow up people. I truly envy the stupid, you have such easy expectations to meet for yourself,” C muttered, rolling his eyes. “As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, imitation is the purest form of flattery, but you tried to take my credit, for my acts. Imitation is one thing, plagiarizing is an outright insult.”

“How are you alive?”

“By continued breathing, I thought they taught you that in school. No matter,” C waved Corina off. “So, before you get any more bright ideas, please do not try to kill me again, and do listen to me. When the Wardens come, I want you to give them a note, and to tell them you are not the real C, absolving you of my crimes.”

Before Corina’s fingers could twitch, Zayne’s arm lashed out, splitting apart at the seams with sickening, wet slurps, and with serrated fangs, wrapped around Corina’s hand. Corina felt no pain, but saw the severed pipe that fed the toxic ammunition into her weapon flop about on the ground.

“Please pay attention, you have only 2 minutes and twenty seven seconds left before your bombs go off.”

“I haven’t se-” Corina started, then felt one of her fingers break and something slip into her palm as the rest of her fingers were forced to wrap themselves around it. Corina bit her lip to stifle the pain as best as she could. Years of scarring from science experiments gave her an excellent tolerance of pain.

“I apologize for the brutishness but you just do not shut up. I programmed your bombs to go off on a timer rather than by your kill switch. I had to give you the one bomb to see if you were truly stupid enough to try and kill me,” C crowed. He reached into his chest, pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen from his literal ribcage that parted and gave him access to his empty body cavity, and placed it on the ground in front of him. “On your knees, write down your apology and to absolve yourself of the title of C, and we’re done here. The longer you take, the more likely this won’t end well for you.”

“On my knees? Like some common whore? Do you think-?”

“A common whore has more sense than you, a common idiot,” C shot back. “In one day I have undone your idiotic master plan and taken even your Merixia under your nose. The only contest here that is left is the contest of patience, and I am admittedly close to losing that one.”

Corina had enough. She had enough toxin in her fingers, and she knew that he could not break all of them in time to stop her from enacting another one of her kill switches. Corina pressed a button that would cause a canister on her suit to fire forward and cover C with a flesh eating toxin, only to have it shot mid-flight and shattered before it could cause anyone any harm.

Both C and Corina looked up overhead at a window, and there was Sheriff Caitlyn, looking down her sights, aiming her rifle at both of them.

C blinked. Utterly distracted by this, Corina ripped her arm free and ran away from him as Caitlyn called out.

“C and Corina, surrender yourselves and you will not be harmed,” Caitlyn called out. “You have one chance- surrender peacefully!”

Corina stumbled away, gasping and wheezing, her arm shuddering.

C looked up, smiling and laughing. “She came. She actually came. Do you see this, Corina? Caitlyn recognized me. I thought she had gotten rusty. I am glad I did not have to escalate, but how did she figure it out? Ah, wait, Zayne never says positive. It’s Zaunite slang he uses, or a two syllable word for his small mind. Nor does he ask to trust him like that. It’s trust me, followed by some animal metaphor, like a whump on a shroom hunt. It slipped my mind. I can’t believe it, without her, it slipped-”

The bombs went off. Ripping through the factory, Caitlyn caught sight of C laughing as he slipped into the fiery green hell while Corina ran the other direction. Caitlyn had to slide down from the window to avoid the explosion of glass shards, cursing under her breath. So close to get two birds with one stone. She knew that Corina posing as C would get him to surface, his ego could not take imposters. Though Caitlyn may not have caught C, the wealth of information gathered from this one event alone was almost worth the loss. And while C will resurface, Corina would not if she got away now. So close to her target, but Caitlyn took a moment to look down the alleyway to make sure the knocked out Zayne was peacefully sleeping, and saw the lights of the Wardens’ vehicles speeding on their way.

If C had not changed the time for the Wardens’ arrival, this evening would have been absolutely catastrophic. The death toll would have been in the dozens for their officers, both good and bad. Caitlyn had wanted to capture Corina before the Wardens arrived, but it seemed that C had alternate plans in mind. The only reason she was delayed was because Zayne had to be found first, taken care of and supervised. Thankfully, backup for Caitlyn had arrived in time as well.

In fact, about backup, as Caitlyn circled around to the back of Corina’s factory, she soon heard an all too familiar voice yell, “Boom! In the face!” followed by a a shriek of surprise and a loud thud.

Caitlyn came across Vi hoisting of Corina onto her shoulder, Corina who was handcuffed and limp.

“Vi, you did not strike her, did you?” Caitlyn asked.

“Nah. I was going to but she just fell forward and passed out at my awesome sight.” Vi gave Corina’s shoulder a little pat as she continued, “Who knew this wallflower back at hq was C, huh?”

“That would be because she’s not C,” Caitlyn answered. “C was in the factory.”

“Wait- really?” Vi looked back at the now violently on fire, emitting smoke clouds of a variety of chemicals, factory. “Well shit. Guess he’s dead.”

“I highly doubt it. C has escaped worse. But now to find his next target-”

Caitlyn stopped herself. She bent down in front of Corina, looked down at the criminal’s hand curled into a fist, saw the purple and white pollen that stained Corina’s skin, and Caitlyn’s eyes dilated.

“Vi, drop her right now.”

Vi did not question Caitlyn, but she did not drop Corina.

“Vi?”

“Uh...Caitlyn...” Vi’s voice lowered, she whimpered, “I- I can’t- move.”

“Noxian oleander poisoning. Who knows what Corina did to it to make it work this fast. Damn it.” Caitlyn had to take a gamble.

As Caitlyn put on a pair of surgical gloves from her satchel her mind raced. This was an interaction between C and Corina. Corina was destructive, C was not for the most part, despite the contorted expression of absolute fear that remained on Corina’s face.

Caitlyn did not know the full extent of that meeting, but knew the pair exchanged some combat, or at least an explosion, but she needed to trust her read of C’s psychology. Caitlyn reached over to unfurl Corina’s fist by trying to pull free a finger. Caitlyn’s hand brushed against Corina’s thumb and immediately noticed the digit was tightened into an iron grip. However, Corina’s fore finger was broken and loose. This meant that though it hurt Corina, Caitlyn could pull the finger free from the stiffening grip and reveal a single vial stuffed in Corina’s palm.

As Caitlyn pulled the vial free, a note wrapped around the glass fluttered to the ground. Her eyes scanned it quickly, the message was short, but the weight of its words struck her like a ton of lead. Caitlyn uncorked the vial, gave it a quick sniff before she took out a spray cap from her satchel, jury-rigged it to fit on the vial with some tape, and sprayed Vi’s arm down.

Vi’s arm slowly, and with great effort, lowered.

“A solution of 90% rubbing alcohol, with a bit of soap and water, to at least remove the pollen and the urushiol oils of the oleander. We’ll have to have the doctor look you over, but this should help for now,“ Caitlyn explained.

Vi actually laughed and gave Caitlyn’s shoulder a soft, knuckled tap with her good arm. “Crap, Cait, you really have a gadget for everything, huh? Thanks.”

Caitlyn smiled, but did not answer.

That note on the floor, that read, “The only time I will give instead of take, a gift from one old friend to another. Hope to see you soon. -C” was a promise Caitlyn knew C would keep. Yet, Caitlyn could not help but notice that C’s methods were escalating. There were no casualties this time, but would there be next time? Even an accidental one? How did C know that Corina would escape the factory if she was doused with a potent enough oleander that it caused nearly instant paralysis in Vi?

The game was afoot once more, and more dangerous than ever.

[murdersexual]

Heeeyyyy can I get an leorio nsfw alphabet 👉🏼👈🏼

6 FUCKING DAYS OVERDUE! I AM SO FUCKING SORRY! 🥲

I am terribly RUSTY at doing NSFW Alphabet. 😥😥😥 I had POSTING anxiety because of it. 😰😰😰

Feel free to challenge me to one liner fics, more alpha, and blah.

🚨WARNING MOTHAFUCKAHS🚨 (You’re all not mothafuckahs! I’m sorry 😥)

-RATED MA.

-STRONG SEXUAL CONTENT.

-NOT PROOFREAD!

-May contain HELLA mistakes.

NOW, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO... READETH THE SHIT!

And now presenting...

Murdersexual’s Leorio - NSFW Alphabet!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

After a long round of position switching, tender and breathy whispers, passionately rough love making, just know you’re in the hands of a natural caretaker. Leorio’s the type to have an atmosphere made for the absolute best of comfort. If you’re at his spot, he’ll have the finest of AC in his room, a mini fridge full of various chilled drinks for you to pick from, the most fluffiest of blankets and most plush of pillows—unless you rather his chest be your pillow—all for you to be at ease. He’s the type to lay back and relax, maybe crack a few jokes while giving you compliments to your sex game. And after you both catch your breath? A round two or three or four maybe possible~

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you? Everything is perfect. There’s not anything to love about you! And on him? Well the same goes for that matter. There’s not a day where he won’t stand in the mirror and smirk with radiant confident and say: “Hmph, I look good~”

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Facials are a yes for him! To see your face highlighted from his cum will never fail to turn him all the way on~ That and if you’re giving him the most soul-sucking of blowjobs, watching you swallow his cum is always a win. 💦 Glazing your ass in his ‘glaze’ is one of his favourites as well. Especially since his pull out game is IMMACULATE.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There’s more or less not a day where he’d come up with some pretty risky and outrageous fantasies. From the craziest of roleplays, using new props, being in very risky locations—like a dressing room in a clothing store. It’s never dull with him regardless but he rather not reveal such to you for he may or may not like to keep you guessing.

(For fucksake, I SUCK at these... 🥲)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Hell to fuck yeah he knows what he’s doing! He’s more or less the one who’s hella encouraging and motivating to you to try all of the craziest shit he’s tried during his first time.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary with one leg propped up on his muscular ass shoulder. Watching your expressions as he hits all of your sweet spots while secretly testing your flexibility is why he adores this one. Then there’s Doggystyle. He can never get enough of going to pound town until you try to put a hand on his thigh. Hell, prepare to get your hand smacked away or pinned to your lower back. That and he’ll make you throw it back~

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends! But more or less, he will crack a joke or two here and there, anything to have a quick breathy laugh. After all, not all bedroom action has to be so boring, right?

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Oohhh, he’s rather nicely set down below. His happy trail is rather light, tamed and pretty fine.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It’s always going to be passionately romantic. From touches, kisses, the low and soft whispers of genuine admiration and love… Just him having that naturally gentle sensuality is what makes every little second all the more euphoric~

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he’s far away, there’s never time he doesn’t think about you. But when you send him some rather teasing photos, the temptation can’t be helped!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Satin ribbons, roleplay and domination seems like plausible kinks. Tying you up in some satin ribbons, just to see the deep colours against your skin looks amazing to him. Roleplay? Oh my, since he’s most definitely in school to be a doctor, let’s just say you’re going to always be his favourite patient to tend to~ Domination? He’s going to always be on top unless you somehow charm your way to making him beg for mercy. He’s going to always command you to throw that ass back and so on~

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a much more of a private type of guy, so more or less anywhere in his place—dorm or whatever. That means, couch, bed, shower, hell, even the wall! Oh, kitchen table! Maybe even bend your ass over the counter~ Same goes for your place~

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Teasing is a big one as well as when you’re mad at him. It’s lowkey kinda hot to him, especially since he’ll fuck your attitude away.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Don’t tell him you want some other guy fucking you while he watches. He’ll cuss you out and probably not want to see you for the rest of the day. That and he would never do anything that you wouldn’t want to.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Watch out, his tongue game is fuego. 👅💦 He will give and he’ll make sure that he receives! There’s no half and no other half!

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Starting out, his stroke game will be slow and long with a few twists and wiggle of his hips. He may slowly pull out all the way until the tip is all that remains inside. Midway? Stroke game gets shorter and quicker, and he’ll reach even further on the inside. After discovering all of your spots, you’re going to feel every little bit of him. He wants your legs to shake, hips to quiver, back to arch and toes and fingers to curl.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies before his early morning class or before he heads out. He doesn’t mind one as long as you’re down for it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He loves to experiment! He’s open to MOST ideas! The riskier the more tempting. Ask him to fuck in public or in a car across from the police station, he’ll be down for it. 😏

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His stamina is OUT OF THIS WORLD! 😏 Hopefully you can keep up~ Rounds? Probably about 4? Maybe 5! There’s no telling. He’ll go until his balls are completely drained~

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Ah, does fuzzy handcuffs and satin ribbons count? 👀 You can T R Y to use it on him but his strong ass will break out of them~

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases waayyyy too much! 😤 It’s even worse when he’s far away visiting his friends, he’s always FaceTiming or Skyping you looking way too fucking good... But when he gets back to you, he’ll pay for it! Not that he’d complain right?

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Typically, he’s loud when he’s snappy, but in the bedroom? His voice is much quieter... Suave and low. His grunts and moans are pretty quiet but when he’s fucking you outta anger or if he’s drunk? He’s pretty loud~

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He has a lot of pornographic magazines and Kama sutra books. He’ll fold the pages with some key positions or outfits he may want to try with you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Beneath those clothes, you’ll come to see that Leorio is far more muscular than what he appears. He also has a ‘third’ leg down below that’s pretty flesh coloured, long and girthy. Since most of the things he wears is pretty fitted, you can never miss what’s packing in those boxer briefs and beneath that tank top and long sleeved button up.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is pretty high. (I mean duh, he’s a goddamn sex symbol. 😏) However, its controllable. You can always tell from the way his eyes scan you up and down and how he smirks with a soft bit of his bottom lip.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

YOU will ALWAYS be the first to fall asleep! There are times where he wanna fall asleep first with you but he’s more or less up doing any homework assignments or talking to his squad. Maybe even cleaning up then hitting the showers. His domestic ways are one of his biggest secrets.

You may now applaud!

Encore?

Thank you for the request! 😅 Sorry it’s not as good, I really... REALLY tried. 👉🏼👈🏼 I may actually have to come back and do this over... Because Leorio DESERVES! 😤 My little (tall) Koi Fish deserves waaayyyyy more love! (I really tried with the aesthetic omfuck...)

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Cruel Summer Pt. II

Summary: Based loosely off of Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift. Huge muse for this part was also Resentment by Kesha. After what was considerably one of the worst nights to ever be lived, things just seem to keep getting worse. Or will they?

Word Count: 2634

Warnings: Angst, lots of fucking angst, the reader talking a lot, manipulative speech, very slight age gap, anxiety, almost ddlg elements but not quite (Please let me know if I missed anything, I will be happy to add on)

A/N: Tags are at the bottom I know this had been long awaited and I’m so sorry it took so long. I had to rewrite the beginning so many times because the first part just seemed to flow so beautifully and I was having troubles encapsulating the grace. Will be added to AO3 at some point. NO spoilers, takes place before the events of Knives out. Read Part One Here

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs, likes, comments, and constructive criticism welcomed and highly appreciated.

Golden rays of sunshine creeped over rooftops, illuminating the room as it fought the cold of the night out that had settled in every crevice - a cold that was a constant reminder of the half empty bed. Soft sheets and expensive pillows that we no better than the pictures that were facedown on the dresser. A light snore and ball of exuberant warmth curled at the end of the unnecessary king size bed that somehow managed to ignite joy while drowning the feeling with sorrow. Even in the early morning hours, just minutes after the sun had risen, there was only one thing to be thought about, one person; Ransom. 

An insistent vibrating disturbed what little peace had fallen over the room, uncharacteristically early to the weekly norm. Even after it would stop, moments later it would begin again and it seemed that it wasn't going to go away anytime soon. A crack in the foundation, a rumbling earthquake that rocked the stability and what had started becoming a little better everyday was ready to crumble and fall. 

Paying attention to details should be a strong suit for someone who had two books published and one in the works - it was a talent that was nearly mastered by this point. But, emotionally drained and foggy brained from the expense that was a Thrombey family dinner, one that would surely be the talk of the family for months, and a restless night filled with discomfort and anxiety left any common sense buried under endless amounts of exhaustion. 

A quick swipe of a thumb, the light press of the cell phone to your ear, and suddenly everything froze. The feeling as if suddenly bathed in freezing water while fiery coals scorched your feet, butterflies lifting your chest higher to cloud nine while a pit opened in your stomach, heart racing with some wild mixture of dread and excitement; "My house at 3. Don't be late, baby girl."

That godforsaken drawl, the smirk that was evident in his voice, the fucking nickname. The line went dead, a heavy silence flooding the room like a tsunami. Thoughts raced in circles, picking apart and trying to guess what he could possibly want. 

Was he going to rub it in your face that he got under your skin? Made your blood boil? Of course he knew how he affected you, he knew you too well, better than anyone would like to admit. An apology? No - that's too far fetched, even after everything Ransom never was the one to apologize, even if he also knew it would be best. Possibly he had gathered the rest of your things, finally ready to rid himself of them. It's not like you took much when he told you to leave, and it was unlikely he would have taken the time himself to go through everything. He probably paid the maid extra to do it overnight so he wouldn't have to.

Either way, after last night, Ransom was the last person you wanted or expected to hear from. The sting of the incident, salt that was rubbed roughly in an aging wound, still fluttered deep in your chest. His words, the family's reaction, the countless notifications still untouched. Nothing anyone could have told you or showed you would have prepared you for what you had felt in that moment. 

Heavy limbs moved numbly but swiftly, mind working like the rusted innards of a clock, slow and almost confused. It didn't make sense as to why he would want to see you, he had done enough damage as is. The confusion quickly boiled over, simmering down to a fluttering anxiety of constant what ifs running their courses through your mind. 

The growing pup stirred at the feel of you moving from the bed, quickly laying his head back down when he saw you trudge into the bathroom. After a much longer than anticipated shower, the feel of the too warm water running down your skin and feeling as though it was washing away every single issue and emotion, a wave a vague normalcy set in. 

For at least a little you could believe this was normal, that it was just like last summer. Get up, get ready for the day, get some work done, then pamper before heading over to see Ransom. Just this time, there was a slightly different agenda. It wouldn't be all heated kisses, starved touches, and craved intimacy, it wouldn't be whispers of sweet nothings and the comfort of a protective embrace - even if every fiber of you craved it like a bad drug, it couldn't happen again, at least not that easily. And who was to say that was even his plan.

Anticipation made the hours go by slower than what was deemed truly plausible, and no matter what the possibilities of what was to come just wouldn't stop taunting every corner of your thoughts. Embarrassingly so you found yourself preparing much earlier than necessary, restyling yourself a handful of times to make sure stunning couldn't even come close to describing how effortlessly perfect you looked. If Ransom wanted to play games, you were determined to have the ball in your field for as long as possible. And to top it off, you made sure that nothing you had on was bought by him. 

But you could only hope that your efforts weren't in vain as you made your way to his house, a place of memories in the middle of pretty much nowhere. An almost 40 minute drive making way for doubts to slowly creep in and settle in the back of your mind. What if he could tell you tried too hard? He could so easily read you, it was as if you were one of your books. Or what if he thought you were trying to impress him? The only time you ever went out of your way to put much effort into your appearance was when you wanted him to really notice you or if he was taking you out. Maybe going in general was a bad idea and this was just some sick joke of his. 

But there was no time to back out as you pulled up in front of the house, his sitting silhouette evident through the glass window. Ransom noticed you immediately, moving to sit whatever was in his hands down and made his way to the door, already standing on the porch before you had even gotten out of your car. 

A slight uneasiness settled between the two of you, his arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows raised as he watched you, almost expectantly. The look was reminiscent of how your parents would stare you down when you were younger, when you had done something wrong. 

You stood outside your car, staring at him and matching his stance, only adding to the annoyance that was written on his face. "What do you want, Hugh?" The irritation in your voice was evident, and you were more than thankful your words didn't fail you. Stomach twisting in intricate knits, chest fluttering, palms becoming clammy; it was a genuine miracle you hadn't tripped over your words. 

His set jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as he registered how you spoke to him, how you addressed him, "Just get in here. We need to talk."

A scoff fell from your lips as you made your way inside, "Always the gentlemen, aren't you," you spat, rolling your eyes as you walked towards the kitchen. Despite not intending on staying long, you threw your belongings on the island and leaned against the marble countertop, watching him as he stalked towards you, a nearly predatory look in his eyes. "What exactly do we need to talk about? I feel like last night made our positions pretty fucking clear."

He tsked, shaking his head. "You just don't get it, baby girl, dya?" 

Ransom opened his mouth to talk again but you cut him off, agitation finally bubbling over and bordering on rage, "I don't get it?" The words were hissed out and soaked in utter disbelief, "What exactly don't I fucking get, Ransom? The fact that you like to start shit? Or the fact that months after you told me to get the fuck out, you show up to a dinner you don't ever go to to cause a fucking scene, then tell me to meet you at your house the next day? What twisted memory of yours triggered you to suddenly act like you care about me? Why the fuck couldn't you just leave well enough alone?"

The taught muscles of his jaw twitched, intense blues boring into your own gaze. "You're such a spoilt fucking brat," he groaned out. "We had an agreement. No one was supposed to find out, but you had to go and-"

"I had to go and what?" You cut him off once again, only fueling the tension between the two of you and prodding the beast of emotions that was storming inside both of your bellies, "You are the one who opened your mouth, you are the one who fucking started this, all of this. From that night in the fucking bar, to you telling me I was the best thing to ever happen to you, to opening up your mouth last night. You always start it. And you're just pissed I finished it before you could get me to break in front of you."

A lump in your throat was beginning to form, jaw clenching as you swallowed, a feeble attempt to keep your emotions from getting the best of you. The rage was quickly turning into sorrow and hurt, the fire in your chest turning into an ache that couldn't be ignored, "You're just disappointed I waited until I got home, got away from you, to break down. Because you didn't get the satisfaction of seeing the pain you've caused."

There was a sudden twist in the atmosphere, hurricane breaking for a moment of relief before harsh waves continued to crash against the shore, "You act like I wanted to hurt you," his voice was grim, face painting in slight disgust, "Everything was great between us - You are the one who broke the rules. Not me." 

Ransom's head cocked to the side some, gaze moving over your features quickly, examining and calculating, "And even now," a small huff in disbelief as he shook his head, large hand moving to run through his hair which you had just noticed was free of any products. Odd, even for him. "Even now, you still came, you're still here. And I'm still thinking of giving you another chance."

Something buried deep within you snapped, a flood of pain filling every nerve and forcing tears to well in your eyes. "You're giving me another chance?" Any illusion of resolve and strength that had been built up had disappeared as quick as a snap of fingers, uneven breaths doing their best to keep the floodgates closed. "Ransom, you broke my fucking heart," each word filled with more hurt and distrust than the last, each a cut to the man who stood before you, his face softening as he watched you, "You're not the one here who should be giving out second chances, you're the one who should be receiving them."

The realization hit him, a douse of cold water to the face as his mind worked. Silence, albeit slightly uncomfortable, fell between the two of you as the gravity of the last few moments came crashing down. Just as it became too much to handle, lip quivering as the overwhelming urge to cry started becoming harder to fight off, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into him. 

Time seemed to slow, a few broken sobs slipping out, body shaking with the force of each one. The natural scent of him filling your senses, no expensive cologne, the feel of the soft sweater an unwanted comfort. Ransom's arms hugged tighter, lips going to your hairline, and staying like that until reality hit you. A weak push, one he could have easily ignored and overpowered, and he stepped away, his features much more readable, looking far more vulnerable. He was much more vulnerable, much more vulnerable than you were ever used to.

Shaky breaths fell from you, trying to clear the fog that was beginning to form over rational thoughts. Wiping your eyes you looked at him, "What exactly is it that you want, Ransom? Why did you really ask me to come over?"

He looked almost taken aback, confused and dazed by the question, but more so by his own train of thought. His mouth opened then closed, repeating the action a few more times before groaning out exasperatedly. "I don't know, for things to go back to how they were?" It sounded far more like a suggestion than an answer. "Come on, (Y/N), we were good together." 

The words came off as if he was trying to convince himself that this was what he wanted. You waited, seeing if he would try to convince you, persuade you like he believed he so easily could, how he used to. "I- No," you shook your head, "I can't do that to myself again, I can't let you do that to me again."

"Do what?" He practically snapped, jaw setting as agitation made home in him once again. He didn't expect it to be so damn hard. He no undoubtedly assumed that he'd immediately have you wrapped around his finger like nothing had changed. "Treat you like a fucking princess? Treat you how you deserve to be treated? You and I both know that you're never gonna be able to find someone who can give you what I gave you, nothing that's going to have that same thrill we did."

Shaking your head you grabbed your bag, throwing it over your shoulder. "See Ransom, you're the one that doesn't get it. I want that more than anything. I want the spontaneous trips and heartfelt gifts. I want the late night conversations and finishing each other's sentences. I would give anything to be on your jet flying to whatever place you're insisting I need to see. I want it all," your voice was practically a whine by the end of it, "But I don't want the sneaking and the hiding. I don't want the separate houses. I don't want lying to everyone."

Running a hand through your hair, you took a shaky breath, trying to calm your nerves. "I need someone who isn't going to just care for me behind a closed door," the calmness of your voice even scared you in the moment, and seeing that Ransom practically froze you could tell he was feeling the same, "I need someone who is going to be there for me how you were, but isn't ashamed of it. That won't get mad when I take cutesy pictures of us on the beach, that won't pretend to hate me in front of their family and friends, that I don't have to pretend is someone else when I'm talking about them. I don't want things to go back to how they were, I want them to be better than they were."

You walked past his nearly frozen stature, heading for the door. "I love you Ransom, and probably always will. But I love myself more than that and I can't let myself be hurt like that again." 

The words echoed off the hallway, ringing in his ears and sitting like a heavy weight on his chest. Your reached for the door, stopping suddenly as his voice reached back out, "Wait - I- fuck," he let out a shaky breath. "Don't leave. Not yet at least. Can we sit and talk over dinner? Please."

Taglist: (Slash through means unable to be tagged)   @sweetlittlegingy @star-spangled-steve @jessiejunebug @fresa-luna @thegirlwithpaperheart @jesaigne @introvertedmouse @sinner-as-saint @sp2900 @qrndevans @dammitcaswhy @livsheph @darcia22 @paranjaperiyauniverse @dramaticsassmaster​ @rose-k @lovemesomeavengers​ @steeeeverogers​ @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall​ @bemysugarbean​ @dreamlesswonder86​ @ambrosixx​ @heyiamthatbitch​ @daazzeey​, @fresa-luna​ @bitchcraftandwitchery​ @thatoneslytherinbeater​ @breezyfreezey @quesadellacatburglar @renxzs​ @imsonick​ @sambucky8​ @honeybabybubba​

[deathonyourtongue]

Willow Run | Ch. 1

Summary: On a horse ranch in Texas, life is far simpler than on the streets of Bakubah, but Syverson has a bad habit of taking in strays of all kinds, no matter what demons may be after them. Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC Word Count: 3K  Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse A/N: Dusting off an old one I’ve never quite been able to shake. Cowboy!Syverson, anyone?  _______________________________________________ Message me if you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list! @fumbling-fanfics @skiesfallithurts @pinkpenguin7@madmedusa178 @crushed-pink-petals @fangoria @bluestarego@caffeinated-writer @my–own–personal–paradise @tastingmellow​ @honeychicana​ @lua-latina​ @angelicapriscilla​ @swiftyhowlz​ @schreiberpablo​ @pinkwatchblueshoes​ @kirasmomsstuff​ @prettypascal​ @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom​ @nardahsb​ @playbucky​ @veryfastspeedz @queen-of-the-kastle​ @freyahelps​ @cajunpeach​ @godlikeentity​ @captainsamwlsn​ @nakusaych9@katerka88 @katerka88 @kirasmomsstuff @melaninmimii@alienor-romanova @downtowndk​ @redhairedmoiraandtheliferuiners​ @safiras​ @agniavateira​ @henryfanfics101​ @fatefuldestinies @iloveyouyen​ @justaboringadult​ @xxxxxerrorxxxxx​

Dust made up ninety percent of her body. It clung to her hair, baked into her skin, coated the inside of her nose like a clay mask drying much too fast. Her eyes stung with it, whipped up by the permanent breeze that crossed the flats of the farmland she traversed with slower and slower steps. Her hair—black with a cobalt undertone—stuck to her lips as she walked, making each step more hazardous as it cut out what little the sun hadn't taken of her visibility. Her shoulders burned even through the cream cardigan she wore to protect herself from the sun. Her water bottle empty, she let it slip from her fingers, slowly beginning to come to terms with the fact that she wouldn't see another sunrise. 

Sasha had been walking for nearly eight hours, moving from the suburbs of Austin's south side towards the dry scrub of central Texas, no final destination in mind. Her only goal was to put as much distance between her and the bungalow as she could. Behind her, she knew her life would end in a matter of days. The phone call she shouldn't have heard made it all too clear. So, she took what she could carry—what she could access—and booked it, taking the only method of transportation available; her feet. 

Her attempt at hitchhiking had been disastrous. The first car to stop had been full of men in their early twenties and her exposed legs and cleavage had made her an immediate bullseye for their testosterone-fueled desires. She'd spent an hour hiding in the women's bathroom of a convenience store, weeping softly, afraid to come out until the owner of the store knocked and told her the men had gone. Each step after that was taken with a glance over her shoulder, her tears coming back full force as her mind made a gruesome collage of images past and present, the men chasing her taking the spotlight for that particular day. 

After another hour and a half of walking, her worn shoes breathed their last and dime-sized holes in the rubber brought her in full contact with the earth beneath her feet. Step after step she felt her soles burn a little further, her once-pink skin blistering and chafing as the gravel shoulder bit into her feet. It was agony, but she wasn't about to stop when he could reach her with a simple drive down the interstate. 

Civilization had begun to die away at the three-hour mark and the only landscape markers were ranch-style homes that dotted the landscape every few miles. At the five hour mark, even the trees dwindled, providing little in the way of protection from the sun and leaving her exposed to the afternoon's rays at their hottest. 

By mile twenty, she was staggering, Sasha's body shutting down as the sun, lack of water, and exhaustion overtook her. In the sharply contrasted lights and shadows of the path in front of her, she could only just make out a two-story home encircled by old Willows, green meadows as far as her eyes could see. With a final burst of energy, she made a beeline for the home, praying that someone would be home. Sasha hit the gate before she realized it was there, her body crashing to the dirt drive, one final insult added to her already-injured body.

The farrier was booked solid for a week, but Syverson's horse couldn't wait that long. If he didn't re-shoe him today, he'd be lame come the end of the week. As much as he felt his shoeing skills subpar, Syverson knew it was better than leaving the ill-fitting shoe on longer. So, come six in the morning, he was out in the stable, cleaning, sanding, prepping, and re-shoeing Wolf. Syverson worked diligently, and when he finally looked up, it was already heading on closer to nine. With a smile, he gave Wolf part of an apple, stroking his long black mane as his horse ate the fruit happily, all four feet now comfortably on the ground.

Satisfied that his horse was in good spirits, had a fresh barrel of hay, and was no longer in any discomfort thanks to his footwear, Syverson started the trek back to the main house, his leg aching from squatting for so long. The ATV his father had given him last year for his birthday had never come in handier. Before he'd received it, Syverson had been either driving his pickup over the acreage, hoofing it up to the stables, or riding one of his horses when he felt like getting some fresh air. Now, he had the best of both worlds; out in the open, and with more than one horse to power his trip.

As he rounded the corner, Syverson caught sight of something at his front gate. From the distance he was at, it was just a dark smudge, but the closer he got, the clearer the image became and when Syverson realized it was a person, he put the ATV in full throttle.

Within minutes, Syverson was lifting the lock on the large swinging gate, the ATV still purring behind him as he crouched down next to the slumped-over body of what seemed to be a young girl. With one glance, Syverson quickly realized a few things. For one, she wasn't that young, as a small tattoo on her wrist pegged her for at least eighteen. Secondly, someone had beat her senseless, and third, she'd walked a very long way, the worn-out soles on her shoes indicating the last fact quite clearly. Most noticeable, however, was her swollen belly; whoever she was, she was most definitely pregnant. 

Careful not to touch any part of her that was bleeding or black and blue, Syverson kept his tone soft as he gently shook her, knowing she wasn't dead by the fact that her back was rising and falling at a steady, albeit shallow, rate.

"Ma'am, can you hear me? Open your eyes, ma'am, can you do that for me?"

Sasha’s eyes opened at the voice and her flight or fight response took over immediately. 

“Get the fuck away from me!” She screamed, voice raw and hoarse from lack of water. Shaking visibly, she did her best to get up, although the moment she got upright, her legs gave way, muscles contracting involuntarily thanks to her emergency exodus. 

Syverson backed up, hands up in surrender as he gave her the space she needed.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, but you collapsed out here in front of my house, ma'am. I wanted to make sure you were breathin'," he explained, still keeping his tone soft as he slowly stood, hiding the wince of pain he felt shoot down his right leg.

"Did you get into a car wreck or something? You're pretty busted up, there," he continued, looking around for any signs of a car in a ditch. While the road leading to his ranch was long, it was mostly flat so he could see all the way to the highway, some two miles down.

"Listen, why don't we go inside, get out of this heat. You can wash up, I'll grab a couple of ice packs and some ice water for ya, and we can figure out what happened," Syverson reasoned, pointing towards the main house just a few feet up the hill from the gate.

Sasha’s mind reeled as she tried to come up with a plausible explanation for why she looked the way she did. One eye black and swollen, cuts and bruises covering every inch of visible skin, and lip split open, she was quite the sight, but she wasn’t certain she could just pawn it off on a car accident, especially as she didn’t have a license. Unable to think of another reason as to why she looked like she’d gone twelve rounds with a pro boxer, Sasha decided to use a diversion tactic, ignoring the topic altogether.

“I’m fine. I was just...tired. I’ll go. I’m sorry for...fallin’ asleep at your gate.”

"You're not fine. You're not sweating, which is a problem given it's almost 100 out. You're all cut to shit, and I'll bet anything that if you try to get up again right now, your legs still won't hold.” Trying the straightforward approach first, Syverson hoped that keeping to the facts would help her process the information better, given her condition.

"Let's get you inside, get you some water, a couple band-aids and once you start seeing 20/20 again, we'll get you a ride home. Okay?" Syverson tried again, using more of his straight-and-narrow approach. If she was so hellbent on being 'fine', he'd help her along and then make sure she got wherever she was going in one piece.

Squinting against the sun despite the baseball cap he wore, Syverson reached out a hand for her, knowing full well he was going to end up carrying the poor thing inside; her shaking was getting worse and there was no way she’d be able to move under her own power.

Eyeing his hand warily, Sasha took a moment before managing to shake her head, her hand smoothing over her bump, a diamond engagement ring sparkling on her finger despite the dust that coated it.

Syverson grimaced as he looked at her in more detail, finding more and more injuries wherever he looked. Covering his mouth with his hand, he took a few deep breaths before scrubbing a hand over his face.

"How far along are you? And what in God's name are you doing out in 100-degree heat, walking in the open sun when you're pregnant?" Syverson tried to keep the worry from his voice, but he just couldn't, his eyes darkening with anger at whoever had let this woman get into the situation she was in, in the first place.

"Please, just come to the porch. Just so you can get out of the sun. I'll bring you some water, you can rest a while, and when you're ready, I'll drive you wherever you need to go."

Seeing that he wasn’t going to let up, Sasha relented, figuring that dying in the shade would be no worse than dying under the glaring Texas sun.

“Just to the porch,” she agreed, finally taking his hand, her legs only giving her enough power to get to a squat before she crumpled back against the dirt with a whimper. 

"If the mountain won't come to Muhammad..." Syverson muttered softly, shaking his head. Despite her condition, the woman was determined and prideful; something he hadn't seen with such force since being in the Middle East. It made him smile even as he plucked the ball cap off his head and placed it gently on hers, Syverson crouching down and slipping his hands under her body, picking her up with ease.

Sasha was too out of it to protest the sudden move, fighting just to keep her eyes open as Syverson loaded her up on his ATV and booked it up the gently sloping hill that led to a rather large, beautiful ranch home. 

Older than a lot of the houses that neighbored Syverson’s acreage, it nevertheless looked pristinely-maintained and had just had a fresh coat of paint put on it. As they came nearer, Sasha took in the wraparound porch, a swing hanging near the back door, looking out towards what could only be farmland of some sort, Sasha unable to see the stables or the horses with Syverson’s broad shoulders blocking the view. 

Syverson cut the engine on the ATV and hopped off, holding Sasha steady until he could pick her up again. If he limped a bit as he walked, it wasn’t noticeable to her, and Sasha felt nothing but relief when he set her down on the porch swing with a nod. 

"All right, you just stay right there, kick your feet up, and I'll be back with some water," he instructed once he was certain she wasn't about to pitch over the side of the swing from exhaustion.

Running in, he grabbed what he needed, along with two ice-filled glasses of water, hoping that she'd be able to get at least half of one down in the next few minutes. She looked dehydrated and Syverson knew it wasn't a good thing for a woman who was pregnant.

"Sip, don't gulp. Gulping will make your stomach churn and that's the last thing you want in this heat, believe me. Been there, done that." He tried for a light and jovial tone, though with his frown still firmly in place, it sounded out of place. Syverson handed her one of the glasses before setting the other down on the floor.

Doing as she was told, Sasha drank slowly, her lip stinging briefly against the cool water before relief began to wash over her. Looking at her rescuer out of the corner of her eye, Sasha felt ashamed that she’d ever doubted his intentions. Sitting next to her quietly, she could feel both patience and anger wafting off him and it made her wonder if she was about to get another talking to regarding her condition and her decision to walk in the heat. Regardless of what kind of conversation she had in store, Sasha couldn’t help but notice that he had kind eyes, something which went far in her estimation of a person.

“Thank you,” she murmured after finishing half of her first glass, her eyes already on the second, even though he’d told her to take her time.

“You’re welcome,” Syverson responded, eyeing her legs carefully. Spotting the largest area of swelling, he carefully placed the ice pack over it, a small tea towel keeping the cold gel from coming into direct contact with her skin. Strapping it down with an ACE bandage, he leaned against the porch railing across from her, Syverson’s arms crossing over his large chest. 

Continuing to study her as she drank, Syverson took note of the shape of the bruises and the distinct impressions of half-moons at the edges of some of them. Someone had been squeezing this girl a little too hard, and Syverson already felt his temper starting to flare at whoever it was that had the gall to do it.

"Did you hit the ditch out on the 474? I keep tellin' 'em to put up a sign, but they don't listen..." Syverson kept his voice light, but he knew he was scrabbling for something to say without taking the direct route and asking her who beat the shit out of her before throwing her from their car; at least that's what Syverson assumed had happened. Immediately however, he could see the discomfort his question had caused, Syverson regretting his words the moment they reached her.

“You didn’t have to trouble yourself with all this, you know,” Sasha said after a moment, trying to save face despite her pitiful condition and her obvious lack of a vehicle. “I’ll be out of your hair in no time, I promise.” 

"Of course I did. Not just gonna leave you layin’ on the ground in this heat with no one for miles. I'm not even sure how you made it out this far without a car," his voice drifted as he spoke the last few words, Syverson's eyes glancing around at his acreage. It was one of the most desolate areas in Texas and even with the highway two miles to the north, the land was about as far removed from civilization as humanly possible.

"You hungry? I was getting ready to fix up some breakfast. Had to get up real early this morning to re-shoe Wolf and I haven't eaten yet." Syverson asked, changing the subject to something a little less involved; his own stomach was churning, eager to have something for breakfast, even if it was only a bowl of cereal. He wasn't the type to skip breakfast, no matter how early he had to be up. If it meant holding off for a few hours after getting some chores done, so be it, but he needed his first meal of the day, come hell or high water.

Sasha was about to shake her head at the offer, feeling like she was already a burden on the man she’d only just met, but then he said the magic words. Eyes lighting up, she looked up at him with eager hope. 

“You have a horse?”

"Horses. Plural," he laughed softly, nodding at her question, Syverson pointing to his right at the stables that sat further back on the property. "This is a horse ranch. I raise 'em, sell 'em, breed 'em...The works. With a little help, of course," Syverson added humbly, explaining what the land was used for and how he fit into it all.

"You like horses?" he asked, his gaze intent and curious, Syverson always up for talking with people that had similar interests to him. He made no move to get up, to usher her anywhere, or do anything more than sit there and talk. He figured he had an in with the horses, but he didn't want to push too hard, lest she try to get up and hurt herself in the process of trying to be stubborn.

“I used to groom them for pocket change when I was a kid. I always found it calming, almost like meditation, you know?” Sasha nodded, her smile growing brighter with each passing moment. 

"I absolutely do," Syverson enthused, his face regressing in age right before Sasha’s eyes, as it always did when he was talking about something he loved.

"Tell you what. You stay for breakfast and I'll bring Wolf around to meet ya. He's the sweetest, and he's closer to the house, since he just got new shoes. All the others are out back and that's further than I think you'd be able to walk on those tired legs of yours," he winked, Syverson’s smile finally relaxed and open, the change in expression one that took Sasha’s breath away and made her forget her problems for a just a moment. The promise of meeting a horse for the first time in years, certainly didn’t hurt matters either.

[pandemilkbread]

abashed ✩

eyes like sinking ships on waters

ᴛᴏᴅᴏʀᴏᴋɪ sʜᴏᴜᴛᴏ ✩ masterlist

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: It was something that crept up so slowly it left Todoroki unaware, but he thought that was the best kind of love; one so natural you don't even notice.

[ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴏ ᴢ’s ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ sʜᴏᴜᴛᴏ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀs]

warnings: suggestive themes of smut, though only detailed at the last parts. read at your own discretion. not really smutty tho...

author’s note: i promised to upload this earlier, whoops, i apologize. hehe

ⓐ — ᴀʙᴀsʜᴇᴅ

ᴀʙᴀsʜᴇᴅ:

/əˈbaSHt/

adjective

embarrassed, disconcerted, or ashamed.

Warmth.

Warmth was the ray of light shining through the gray-like curtains at the peak of dawn, the heat amassed within the heavy blankets that covered skin, the hotness of pillows from where your touch lingered and left, with all the toss and turning in between; the very definition of warmth described the comfortable heat radiating from the arm wrapped around your stomach like a safeguard—

Cold.

Cold was the sweat dribbling down your forehead in sheer panic, the chilly breeze that encased your body as you quickly ripped the blankets off, the freezing temperature of the tiled floor immediately upon falling on your bare bottom soon after, cold and empty was your mind, connecting the images of what transpired the previous day— or night rather.

All you picked up were bits and pieces: bright lights, booming music, the smell of strong alcohol, a pop of a balloon… ‘Ah, yes.’ You thought, hesitantly. ‘The birthday party.’ Who knew an adult as yourself, who had the alcohol tolerance of a Viking from the late eighth century, could flat out collapse from drinking too much.

And God you wanted to throw up.

Besides wanting to spill out your guts onto the crystal clear floor—you cringed at the thought of whoever was supposed to clean the mess after, if you chose to do so anyway—there was a direr issue to address; which was… knowing where the hell you were, and who you were with.

You slightly inched yourself onto your knees and peered back at the comfortable blue sheets where he laid, fast asleep. Surprisingly, your fumbling did not wake the sleeping man. You assumed as much as you were knocked out from the liquor, he was in a similar state as well.

Sighing, you pulled yourself up only to be met with a painful ache on your upper thighs, forcing you to stumble on your backside. You hissed. ‘What in the world?’ Squinting at the dark splotches on your skin that darted from your lower thighs up until your upper stomach, a small part of you believed there were more sprinkled on your chest and neck. It forced one notion down your thick skull.

First, you were naked. The bareness of your skin provided neither protection from the cold breeze coming from the air conditioner, nor the heat radiating from your cheeks in embarrassment. The pain from earlier, and the bruises that enveloped your skin were two of the many testimonies of your late night endeavor.

You groaned. In truth, you weren’t the type of person to be hooking up with a stranger, no— scratch that, you were never the type of person to be having sex at all, and with a stranger nonetheless. Frankly, the only time you were close to doing the deed was with your boyfriend of a year and a half, whom you broke up with months ago, and it did not end well.

Let’s just say, he had a ‘technical difficulty’ with putting on a simple condom; leaving the touch starved you, furious as he suggested to do it otherwise without it. And the night was cut short. ‘A great night forever encased into my memories.’ You mused.

Back to the crisis at hand, your eyes shifted to the human unconscious on the bed, the sound of small breaths reached your ears. You prompted yourself onto your knees then leaned your upper body on the bed, a small blush dusted your cheeks as you glanced at the man.  

‘Great.’ You breathed. Over 126 million people in Japan and you slept with the one person you’d rather not see again.

Your fingers gently swiped the strands of red hair covering his closed eyes. Breathtaking. Even while asleep he managed to send your heart into a frenzy, and brought shivers down your spine, and reignited the little speck of hope you had left, one you thought had blown out years ago, only to reemerge stronger than ever.

Oh, god, you hated hope.

You propped your chin on the palm of your hand. Sighing, you continued to play around with his hair. A part of you hoped the beautiful stranger, not-so unfamiliar anymore, woke from his slumber— a sort of wakeup call and signal for you to get going. Another, cruel part, wanted him to stay asleep, a somewhat impossible wish; and you wished, you really wished, this was a dream.

If it was one, please, please, please, you wanted to crawl back under the covers, just for a few minutes.

You pinched yourself.

Once, then twice, then thrice.

Maybe seventh times a charm?

You massaged your temples. If it were a dream, you would have awaken by now. Then, you were not in a dream, and this was real. And if it was real… you can afford to be a little selfish. So you sat up from your spot and leaned forward, brushing your lips against the top of his forehead.

“Good morning,” you whispered.

Loud enough to satisfy your wants, but as quiet as the passing breeze, rendering it nonexistent.

You could always shuffle back into the sheets, you know you wanted to; bask in the warmth of the bed, so soft and cozy; pretend reality did not exist, yes, in another life this apartment was your home; and the notion of walking in shame was all fiction, you were abashed.

You sighed, sounding more like a mix of a hiss and a groan.

It was time to go. There was no use dwelling on the what-ifs and the what-could-have-beens. Simply, you are an adult. Yet, the years of being humbled at college, forcibly awoken by the harsh realities of adulthood, and the gruesome jobs at the hospital— could not diminish your fairytale dreams and hopes, by now reverted back into one intense form.

Your high school crush on the one and only, Todoroki Shouto.

Something that had shrunk to the size of a pea, had somewhat grown into a bowling ball, all in the span of ten minutes and by all means, it would continue to grow bigger. You were sure of it. The plausible solution?

Running out while you still had your mind, heart, and spirit intact. Oh, yes. The very same went for your embarrassment and shame: behold, the little youngling had initiated her very first hook-up for all the world to see! ‘Technically anyone awake by seven’ you presumed by looking at the light from outside.

Grabbing your discarded clothes, you walked to a room, closer to a closet than an actual bathroom, and put them on. Now that you were fully dressed, the whole idea of sleeping with your high school crush was unbelievable.

A prank? You rolled your eyes. No one would go that far to prank someone as unimportant as you.

…Would they, though?

Your mind wandered back to the mix of silver and red asleep in the bedroom. Was he the type of person to sleep around with anyone he wanted?

He can, though. You thought. Then again. He did not seem like the type to do so.

You ruffled your hair in front of the mirror, sliding your fingers through your hair in an attempt to smooth out the tangles.

Is it possible? Perhaps you never slept with him in the first place? Maybe, your lower pain was the symptoms of a forthcoming period, or maybe the bruises on your skin were the scars of an epic battle fight sequence in the bar, or maybe the person sleeping on the bed was never Todoroki Shouto and you were delusional.

Putting it that way, the lame excuses sounded more ridiculous than reasonable.

The door opened with a click, and you winced at the sound, your fingers quickly twisted the knob to prevent any more unnecessary noise. Stepping out of the bathroom, you glanced at the person laying on the bed. For someone considered one of the nation’s top heroes, Todoroki slept pretty peacefully while a stranger used his room to her volition.

What if I was a villain, hm? You grumbled. One slit to the throat and you’d be a goner.

The exact moment you thought about assassinating (not that you would actually do it, you were a hospital resident for heaven’s sake!) the peppermint boy stirred in his spot, forcing you to freeze. The blankets shifted downwards to reveal the bare skin of his chest, littered with splotches of dark blue, and you gaped.

His neckline gleamed with love bites, his collar taking the brunt of all the kisses, and the chest area had a trail of kisses all the way down to his lower stomach, where the blanket laid comfortably— ‘did I do that?’ you breathed.

This close, you were this close to pulling all your hair out in frustration. Last night must have been the best night of your life and you couldn’t remember a thing! The whole thing was unfair!

You shook your head. No time to dwell, time to go! And go you must before the object of all your teenage fantasies woke up. Eyes scanned the room for the last item of your possessions, the shoes you wore.

You scoured under the gray sofa to the side of the bed, then softly shifted the blanket on the floor, it was not in the bathroom where you changed, the carpet showed no sign of the footwear, and you remembered really wearing shoes to the party. ‘So, where is it?’

After searching for what seemed like twenty minutes, you plopped down on your knees in front of the bed. ‘Maybe Todoroki knows where it is?’ A stupid suggestion, why would a sleeping man know the location of your shoes? He was not psychic; and if you did not know the place, how on Earth would he know?

But that did not stop you from asking either.

“Good morning, dear. Happen to know where my shoes are?” You joked.

It was barely a whisper, a joke for your ears only; a gag really to soothe yourself during moments of distress. He was not supposed to reply, you weren’t expecting a reaction either, so you slumped. If you could handle three back to back shifts at the hospital without a break, you can handle walking out of this damned apartment without shoes.

By the shine of the bright light outside, and knowing it was a Sunday morning, there should not be a lot people to gawk at your unruly appearance. If you were lucky enough to hail a taxi in three minutes, all before the early joggers on the street gushed about your lack of footwear, you would be safe from the impending embarrassment.

Maybe, you could take a pair of slippers from the apartment? The hero will never know, and if he did, what kind of rich hero would search far and wide for a woman who stole his flip-flops? It was just some slippers! ‘All right, do it!’ You dared.

Just as you were about to stand up, a warm arm reached for your neck— the base of his palm wrapped around the back of your head, compelling your chest to rest on top of the bed. Mismatched eyes of gray and turquoise stared back at you—your stomach jumped, and you gulped, God was it that hot in here?— rather groggily, the corner of his lips smirked.

“Have you tried the shoe rack outside?” Todoroki murmured.

One blink, two blinks, three blinks. You hissed in realization. ‘Of course! Who brings their shoes inside?’ You had to be the dumbest drunk to have ever lived, you weren’t drunk right now per se, but, the alcohol must have done something to your brain. It was strong enough to make you forget simple Japanese customs, you wanted to smack your skull.

Eyes peeping at the man, you diverted your gaze sheepishly, the intense stare he had made you bashful, slightly making your insides churn and almost making you a spluttering mess. You glanced back at Todoroki, and tilted your head.

“W-Were you awake this whole time? I-I thought I saw you move…” You admitted.

He loosened his grip on your neck and rested his palm on your shoulder. “You were not exactly quiet,” he then traced tiny circles on your collar. “Falling off the bed…must have hurt, are you all right?”

Your face swiftly turned three shades darker. ‘He was awake!’ The moment you woke up in shock and slammed your bare ass on the floor, he was awake! ‘Naturally! He’s a god damned hero!’ Obviously, who wouldn’t stir awake from the loud smacking sound, and your cry of pain?

You squinted at the smirk on the corner of his lips. ‘He’s teasing you!’ He was awake this whole time… then, he must have felt your lips on his forehead, and heard the ‘good morning’, and the fumbling for your shoes, and the swipe of your fingers, and you playing with his hair, and everything else!

How was it possible to be this abashed? Your cheeks felt as if they were on fire, oh fuck, it had to do with his stupid little smirk, his stupid intense gaze, his stupid hold on you as if you meant something to him like—like you meant the world to him.

Oh, how your stomach kneaded at the thought.

“I’m… fine.” You snatched his hand and placed it on the bed.

By the way he looked at you, you reasoned out he was waiting for something. Gratitude for the night before sounds way too conceited, he did not seem like a narcissist. An apology for taking too much of his time and space sounded too sad, your heart ached and hearing him jab it with regrets would hurt.

What else was there to remember? God, did you puke into his suit, or clothes, did he want you to pay for his dry cleaning? You cringed, goodbye self-esteem.

“…I’ve never done this thing before, you know?” You spoke. “Ah, I don’t really know what happens the morning after…” Blushing, you pinched your fingers, a nervous habit. “I’ve… I mean… I watch those shows and… I know someone has to walk out after and seeing this isn’t my room, I have to walk out. Yes. Me.”

His face contorted, confused. “Why do you have to walk out?”

The whole purpose of walking out was to signify the end of a session, like you would tell him that. Basically, the room was unfamiliar territory, therefore, not your apartment. Who else would walk out if not you?

“This,” you gestured the room, “is your apartment. Not mine. Why would you walk out of your own apartment?”

“Yes, I know.” Todoroki said, matter-of-factly. “But, why?”

“What do you mean ‘but, why?’ Why? Me… and you… we aren’t even a thing! We just happened to—“ You pointed. “You! This is all your fault! If you just pretended to sleep and continue doing it, we wouldn’t have this awkward exchange in the first place!”

“You asked where your shoes were.”

“I didn’t actually think you were going to reply!”

He pulled himself into a sitting position and stretched his arms. You heard the sound of a crack followed by a soft groan, and his feet perched on the ground, right in front of where you stood. The sleepy man placed his chin on his closed fist, while his elbow laid on the top of his now crossed legs.

Todoroki sighed. “You did not answer the question. Why do you want to leave?”

There were a hundred reasons to leave. He was a top hero, a celebrity in the eyes of his followers, an untouchable God by his multitude of fangirls. You believed it was impossible to stay with someone like him, your ego would not allow it.

A part of you was scared. If you stayed, the chances of talking about what happened increases. Staying meant realizing you really slept with him, and in a way reconfirmed your feelings that you might actually stand a chance. Maybe your feelings were worth it, maybe he would give you a chance, and maybe your impossible love was never impossible at all, maybe—

“It’s— It’s… not proper…” You conceded. “You’re… you! And I’m me! I barely even know you and in all honesty… I don’t really remember what happened last night. I’m sorry, it’s better if we pretend this never happened.”

He paused for a while before answering. “Why? Do you hate it that much? Do you want to talk about it?”

You clenched your hands. It was infuriating how easily his words planted fantasies into your head. The way he phrased the sentence drove an idea down your throat. ‘Did he want you to stay?’

“The thing is… I don’t remember. Do you?” You replied.

“Of course…” He took a quick glance at your face, almost looking for something, before staring back at the curtains. “Are you married?”

‘Married? Married!’ You gaped. You could not begin to comprehend why he asked such a question. Did he think you were running away because you had someone waiting at home for you? Or did he ask because he tied the knot with someone else? God… did you sleep with a married man?

You don’t recall him being married. “No! I don’t have a ring on my finger…”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He added.

Oh, you breathed. Was that the reason why? Was he asking all these things because he felt inclined to know whether the woman he slept with had someone waiting for her at home? He was minimizing the potential of a possible scandal. You sunk at the thought. “Ah, I did… But that was months ago.”

Do all hook ups have these morning questionnaire sessions? Or was this a top hero only session, to reduce the possibility of a hot and spicy front page article on the tabloid? Oh, maybe he felt guilty. You glimpsed at the man, his eyes closed in ponder.

You were never one to snitch, and something like this was a secret that would never leave your lips, until, well… you were six feet down under. You deflated yet again, presuming after his barrage of questions, he would send you out the front door.  

“If it is not because you are married, not because you are taken, not because I did something wrong…” He began. “Then… stay.” His arms wrapped around your waist, while he leaned his forehead on your stomach.

Faint, you were going to faint. You heard it right, didn’t you? He said ‘stay’, not ‘leave and never come back,’ not ‘forget this, go,’ not ‘get away,’ he told you to stay. You died and went to heaven, didn’t you? Was it possible for someone like him to want you? Even if it was just for a moment, you wanted to succumb to the feeling of being loved.

Your face heated up, and your hands unconsciously reached for his head, dragging your fingers slowly between the locks of his hair. “…Are you this touchy with all the girls you sleep with?”

Right off the bat you tested the waters, almost grimacing at the implications. Why you formulated such a simple sentence into something with a double meaning, you never knew.

“No. Just you.”

Great. The issues with double ended questions. What did ‘just you’ mean? Did he sleep with a lot of women, and you were the only one he cuddled with so far? Did it mean something else? You had to pry further, not that it mattered whether he slept with other people.

“So… do you sleep with people this often or…?”

He scowled. “What makes you think I take anyone I see to bed?” Todoroki swiftly twisted you around, facing your back, and pulled your body to his lap. “…Only you.” He mumbled.

Ah, you instantly felt relieved. Though, the reassurance only managed to disorient you even further. What happened at the bar? What conversations happened during the hours of the party? What did you say to make him interested? Was he really interested? Maybe, by the way he was holding you right now, his body language proved he was.

Your stomach stirred at the close contact, pulse racing as he settled one hand on your thigh while the other swaddled your waist. “…Do you really not remember?”

You wanted to recall as well. “I don’t… sorry.”

He sighed in defeat. “All right.”

His breaths caressed the back of your neck, sending goosebumps all over your body. You shook your head and forced yourself to breathe, breathe in, and out, in and out, in and— were you being cuddled by the Todoroki Shouto on his fucking bed, why me? Out of all the women in this world, Japan rather, why would he be wrapping his warm arms around you— breathe out!

Everything was so confusing, so perplexing, so—a prank! ‘Ha ha ha, good job everyone!’ You mused. ‘Time to reveal yourselves, you assholes!’ Your list of ‘bastards who pissed you off for a living’ had hundreds of guys. The idiot from work, the bartender near your apartment, your next door neighbor who played rock music at 3 in the morning, stupid Monoma who fucked around at the hospital.

You sighed. One more time, one more phrase of reassurance. Just one more. And you’ll stop asking.

“Hey, hey… Todoroki?” You nudged him with your head, gently. You heard a soft ‘hm’ and continued. "Are you really Todoroki?”

He paused. “…Shouto.”

“I know who you are,” You hummed, a smile flickering your features. “I mean, is it really you? You’re like this… cool hero. A celebrity, really. And I’m just… sitting on your lap, in your room, in your apartment, wherever this place is.”

His grip tightened on your waist. “Who else would I be?”

“Monoma trying to fuck around and fuck up my feelings.”

“Ah, trust me, princess. I would not let that happen.” His so soft voice, sent shivers down your spine. “…Do you really not remember?”

Knock out! He called you ‘princess’, princess, princessprincessprincess. Such an endearing word for a stranger, oh but you love it so. You took a double take, the word was very familiar. Very familiar. It was difficult to pin point a certain time or place, but…

You pinched his ear. “Why do you keep asking? Was it that good that you can’t stop talking about…?”

“We talked about this right before I took you to bed and you—“

“You know what,” You spluttered. “Never mind! Don’t tell me. I’ll figure it out on my own.”

The tips of your own ears tinged red, you could feel the heat. Learning more of what happened last night made you squirm, …it will flow back eventually. You hoped.  Learning about it from the man himself made you embarrassed, super embarrassed. Knowing he was the type to be nonchalant about everything, he might describe the whole night without any reservations.

Feeling braver, you wiggled yourself into a position that had your legs wrapped around his waist and your head rested on the crook of his neck. Cloud nine, you sighed. This is what cloud nine feels like.

You closed your eyes and listened to the beats of his heart, the rhythm pulling you quicker and quicker into the sensation of sleep. As long as the man himself told you to stay, you shall indeed stay, God, you wanted to stay.

Eyes moving under your lids, one memory emerged— and boy did it send your heart tumbling. You yelped in reaction, eyelids immediately snapping open.

“Hm?” Todoroki asked, certainly with a teasing tone. A fraction of smirk was displayed on his lips. He had sort of an inkling of what happened.

“Nothing, nothing.” You deflected, snuggling your head back into the crook of his shoulder, a way to hide your forthcoming blush.

Warmth was his breath on your neck, trailing kisses down your collarbone, as his teeth lightly nipped the base of your throat. Your head blanked at the pleasure, the heat, the excitement— and only he, calling your name pulled you out of your drunken stupor, though the words he muttered afterwards sent you into a crying mess.

“…I love you.”

[prettywordsyouleft]

Bloodstone | Part 3

Summary: You knew all about the ring your grandmother had told you about and yet when the stone fell from it one fateful day, you weren’t truly prepared for its return, nor who it came back with.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

Genre: fantasy / romance

Warnings: none

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

You checked three times that you were no longer dreaming. Still, the purple-haired man stood before you each time. Peering more closely at his unique outfit, you became further convinced of Yoongi’s story-telling earlier.

He looked at you with equal parts of curiosity and caution. It was during this moment of examination that you noticed his first couple of buttons to his shirt were undone and glowing light emanated from within his chest.

This wasn’t boding well.

“Just who are you?”

“Are you the host? Are you the one who captured me with this bloodstone?”

“You… you know of the stone?” you questioned, taking a sudden step forward. The strange man moved back, knocking into a stack of books clumsily.

Looking between you and the mess he had just created, the man sighed. “I’m sorry, let me clean-”

“It’s okay; we’ll get to that after. The bloodstone, have you seen it?”

“So you did release it then,” he murmured in response and you let out an indignant scoff.

“Release it? I wore that ring for fifteen years and it chose to leave on its own. If I had it my way, now knowing what kind of ring it is, I wouldn’t have accepted it from my grandmother as a child.”

“You wore it that long?! But it’s dangerous!” He was wildly looking you over then and you grimaced, reaching to smooth down your bed hair.

His actions prompted you to take in a steadying breath before smiling weakly. “My name is Y/N and you are?”

“Namjoon,” he answered, looking at the hand you had outstretched towards him in thought. He then held out his own arm towards you but not taking the chance to shake it.

You frowned. “You’re not from here, are you?”

“I’m not human, no.”

“Wait, I was expecting a different country or something, but did you just tell me you’re not human? Are-- are you an alien then?”

“What’s that?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head and you clasped your forehead within your hand as you dashed to sit down at your desk. “Purple hair, strange clothes and says he’s not human. Where’s Yoongi when I need him?”

“Yoongi?” he repeated and then casually scanned your room. “You have a vast library of fantastic titles.”

“I do? Most of these books are from my grandmother and are in a different lang-”

You stopped then, realising the great difference between you and Namjoon. You had been speaking now for the last few minutes with relative ease, but it didn’t feel as if his words were spoken in the same language as your own. It was as if he spoke in his own native tongue and your brain was translating it on the spot.

What was going on?

“I need a coffee,” you announced, getting up from the chair shakily and heading towards the kitchen. Namjoon scampered along behind you, letting out a delighted sound when you flicked on the light switch. You chose to continue looking forward instead of back at the puzzle he presented and moved into the kitchen to grab a mug from the overhead cabinet.

Namjoon came closer, leaning around you to watch your actions. It unnerved you but not in a negative way. You held up your mug. “Do you know what this is?”

“Of course I do, you drink from it. I may not be human but I do come from civilised lands.”

“Okay then, do you want a drink too?”

“Of your brew you’re making in that strange bowl?”

Looking at the coffee machine you had turned on, you moved across the kitchen and reached for your tea collection. You weren’t so sure coffee would be a wise idea for someone who didn’t know what it was. Making the hot drinks, you then moved to the small round table in your living space, placing one across the table and gesturing for Namjoon to take a seat. He sat down distractedly, staring at his surroundings in awe.

Once you had a decent mouthful of coffee, you rapped your knuckles on the tabletop to gain his attention. “So, what are you then?”

“I guess, as the book called, a divinity.”

“So a God?”

Namjoon laughed. “Oh no, I’m not from above.”

“Then?”

Maybe I am from a different country. Far away. Where no humans exist.”

“That makes no sense but I’ll humour you at four in the morning. How old are you?”

“With the last solstice, I am now two hundred and thirteen years old.”

You merely blinked at his answer and then looked down at your coffee cup in suspicion. When you realised he wasn’t smiling and had answered with ease, you let out a hollow laugh. “Right, over two hundred years. Because that’s plausible.”

“The elder of my village is nearly a thousand years. He has endured a long existence.”

“He sure has.” You felt faint, clasping your head in your hands and drank more of your coffee in hopes it would ground you from his nonsensical answers.

Maybe you had been fooled. After all, Namjoon could have broken into your house as you slept and was now playing along with you. You were tired and had an over-reactive mind after your ordeal yesterday.

You nodded softly, trying to convince your frazzled thoughts of this fact. You would just ring for the police and they would take this strange intruder away from you and it would all just end there.

Except you knew the glow from his chest meant something more to you. In fact, it was that red glow that made you feel at ease.

As if you were around something you were familiar with.

“The bloodstone,” you started as you blinked rapidly, looking at Namjoon again. “Did you see it?”

“See it,” he repeated, finally holding his gaze upon you for more than a second’s glance. His lips pressed together in a firm line before he expelled a heavy breath. “Surely you can see it right now as well?”

“It’s in your chest?”

“I believe so.”

“How did it get there?” you wondered and Namjoon tensed, letting out an awkward laugh.

The sound eased you some.

“By a series of unfortunate events.”

“You’re not hurt from it, are you?” you suddenly asked, reaching over towards his exposed chest and touching the stone.

The impact was immediate. Flashes of Namjoon’s life flooded your mind. You saw him as a child with a young girl and an overbearing father figure hovered nearby in every scene. You watched as his father passed away, and many moments of Namjoon inspecting gemstones. And then you were brought to his final moments in his studio, feeling the heady desire the stone had cast over him.

It was enough for you to pull back then, knowing you had seen and felt too much.

Namjoon was staring back at you with round eyes, unmoving even though you had recoiled back into your seat. He eventually blinked out of his stupor. “You lost your mother recently.”

“And your father has also left you,” you lamented, both nodding in answer.

“The stone is back but I didn’t expect it to come attached to someone in quite a literal way.”

“I guess I will have to impose on your kindness for some time now,” Namjoon mentioned softly and you nodded once.

There was too much moving around in your mind.

The sun had risen in the sky and he watched it for the first time through a windowpane. Unlike back in his land where all homes were on the ground, your residence seemed suspended halfway to the heavens itself. Whilst he had no understanding of how or why, watching the sun send its rays over all it touched from this height was spectacular.

You, however, seemed uncaring of such natural beauty, still pacing your living space and chewing on a nail in the process.

A bell chimed around the room and you dashed off then, leaving Namjoon staring after you.

He decided that whilst you were strange, you had a kind disposition so far and he didn’t feel out of place here with you. Well, everything new to him made him curious, but you as a person did not frighten him as much as he thought you would. So often he was told humans were impractical and flighty.

Once you had your special brew within you, it seemed you had settled some.

However, when you returned with another human in tow, you seemed frantic. “Do you see?!”

The man at your side’s mouth fell ajar ever so slightly and then he said something that Namjoon couldn’t understand. Turning to face them both fully, Namjoon watched their interaction intently.

“I know, Yoongi! But he says he’s not human.”

“Because I’m not,” Namjoon interjected, and Yoongi, so he now realised to be from your earlier mentioning, let out a harsh sound that he could only fathom as a sinful word.

Namjoon stepped forward to your side protectively. “I do not understand what he’s saying but I don’t feel it was very kind. Are we safe?”

“Yoongi is my best friend, relax. He can’t understand you either, it seems.”

Your head hung low at this conclusion, as if you felt more hopeless than before. Sitting on your large, plush chair with a thump, you then darted your attention between Namjoon and your friend.

“We have the main character who wore a magical ring unbeknownst of its power, an entity who isn’t human that now harnesses the power within his chest, and a man who can’t understand what language is being spoken but will most likely be the one to guide the way through this. What is this?”

“The starting of a new tale,” Namjoon announced grimly, touching the stone that had brought him to this strange world.

_________________

Part 4

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