#terrible! horrible! Cease At Once!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

they should invent a waking up that isn't excruciating

[thestrangepoet]

The Furrcinating Adventures of Champion, the Archives Cat | The Magnus Archives Fanfiction | Ch 1/?

Based on @ultramarinaa’s Cat!Martin AU 

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

DISCLAIMER: As per usual, this is an unedited first draft that I haven’t proofread. Forgive any typos and roughness around the edges – I tend not to go back over fanfics, as they’re just a bit of fun writing for me. (I am a full-time professional writer, and if I start telling myself I need to edit and proofread my fanfics, it’ll cease being fun for me.)

This is chapter one of…I don’t know. I may continue if enough people are enjoying it.  Next Chapter →

──── •✧• ────

Oh God, Martin thought to himself as fur began to emerge from under his skin, covering newly reshaped limbs and hiding sharp claws from sight, Jon’s going to be so mad at me!

Oh no, Martin panicked as blunt teeth gave way to pointed canines, this is so unprofessional of me! 

Only then did Martin allow the terrible question to enter his mind – what was he becoming? 

He should have known better than to pick up an unfamiliar book lying around in the archives of the Magnus Institute, the academic home of research into the paranormal and esoteric. At the very least, if he was going to pick it up, he should have done so only to tidy it away. Why he had felt compelled to open the tome and sneak a peek inside, he couldn’t say. 

As the world around him lurched into a new angle, Martin could only think about the presentation his boss had delivered a few weeks prior. 

Obviously, you shouldn’t be dealing directly with any artefacts of note, Jon had said dryly, tapping the large screen behind him that showed countless examples of seemingly mundane objects. We have a department for that for a reason. However, it’s not unusual for one or two to slip through the cracks; particularly books, given the extensive nature of our library. If you should check out a book as part of your research and you see the name ‘Leitner’ involved in any capacity, do not read the book. Put it down immediately. Martin, that goes double for you – if you even think the word ‘Leitner’ near a book, I want you to turn around immediately and walk back to your desk – do you understand? 

Had he seen the name ‘Leitner’ in this book? There had been a torn bookplate in the front, and maybe the remaining letters had been ‘ner’...

Did it matter? He was paying for his stupidity now, Martin thought. All fur and claws and fangs, and oh, what hideous monster would emerge from what had once been Martin Blackwood? 

Martin lay down, his fluffy belly flat against the floor, and pushed his newly shaped paws over his eyes. Oh, it didn’t bear thinking about! Jon would burst in at any moment, see some horrible creature, not realise it was Martin, and—

“Martin?” 

As if on cue, the door to the shared office of the archival assistants opened, and in walked Jonathan Sims. “Martin, have you taken your lunch break? Tim and Sasha have already gone, and Elias has been getting very prickly about me making sure you all…oh. Martin?” 

Martin had scampered under the table in hope of avoiding his boss’ gaze. Treated now to a blurry view of the man’s green socks and scuffed brogues, he watched as Jon entered the office. “Oh. Good. He’s gone already,” Jon said to himself with the air of a job well done. He turned to leave, and Martin had almost let out a sigh of relief when the man’s feet stopped. 

No, no! Martin thought, Go! You can’t see me like this! I bet I’m the ugliest monster, all fangs and talons and hair all over the place! 

A scarred hand appeared in Martin’s imperfect vision, scooping up the fallen book that was to blame for Martin’s plight. A new fear sprang up in Martin’s mind then – what if Jon read the book too? 

He had to do it. He had to save him! Even if it meant Jon would see Martin’s disgusting new form, he had to keep Jon safe! 

He lunged with a power that Martin hadn’t ever known before. A screeching roar – or a miaow, really – pierced the air, and Martin all but bodyslammed Jon’s hands, knocking the book firmly from his grip. It span across the room and slid under the bookshelf out of sight. 

Now he’d done it. Now Jon would see Martin in all his revolting glory – witness what that awful Leitner book had turned him into. If he didn’t recognise Martin, as surely he wouldn’t, he’d no doubt call security, and then what would happen? Would Martin be taken down? Locked away in the tunnels for examination and research? Worse, what if Jon did recognise him? He’d know that Martin had messed up in a spectacular fashion, and he’d be so disappointed in him. Would he be the one to tell Martin nothing could be done, that the effects of a Leitner were irreversible and that they’d have to–

“Good Lord! Oh…oh, now, where did you come from, little one?” 

Jon’s voice took on a bizarrely soft tone that Martin had never heard before. He couldn’t respond, however, as thin hands had latched gently around his torso and lifted him from the ground, a startled purr rumbling from Martin’s chest. 

All of a sudden, Jon’s face filled Martin’s entire view. And for once, no scowl darkened his features. In fact, Jon almost looked…delighted? 

Martin blinked. 

“Mrrow?” 

Not once in over a year of working for Jonathan Sims had Martin managed to coax a smile from the other man. All his best attempts, his best teas, his ridiculous amount of overtime to finish his reports to a standard Jon would accept, all his own smiles and attempts to cheer the man up, not one of these gargantuan efforts had been rewarded with a smile. 

And now, with one confused miaow, Martin had unlocked a smile from Jon. 

“How did you get in here? Did you get lost? Did Martin leave the door open again? Oh, I bet he did. I bet he did!” Jon repeated, descending into a cooing baby voice that would have had Martin howling with laughter if he could still laugh. Jon shifted the perplexed Martin to sit over his shoulder more comfortably, the book all but forgotten. “But you’re such a handsome boy! And no collar? Poor little man, have you been wandering around looking for some food and shelter? We’ll get you sorted, don’t you worry, little champion.” 

What…the hell…is happening? Martin wondered, even as a big, goofy smile curled his lips. 

Jon was carrying him. Out of the office. Stroking his back. Calling him a little champion and handsome. 

“How about a saucer of warm milk, hmm? Does that sound good? Would that set you right, hmm?” 

It was only then that Martin’s mind dragged itself out of the dazed, happy fog to piece together what Jon was saying. Why he was saying it. 

Martin had not been transformed into some vicious beast from the eldritch corners of reality. 

As they passed by Jon’s office, Martin caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass pane of the door. 

A large cat with white and orange fur blinked back at him from over Jon’s shoulder. 

──── •✧• ────

Martin was, of course, the talk of the town after everyone returned from their lunch break. Funny, then, that not one person actually mentioned Martin. 

“So you’re gonna take him to the vets, right, boss?” Tim asked, rolling another roll of Sellotape towards Martin, apparently expecting him to play with it. Martin, on principle, refused, turning his nose up and huffing. 

Tim, come on! You’re back, Sasha’s back, who isn’t back yet? Ask where Martin is! he thought. 

“He seems healthy enough to me,” Jon replied, not looking up from the paperwork he was pouring over. “Why?” 

“To get his microchip checked? Get him back to his owners?” 

That made Jon look up, a flash of shock and upset clear in his widened eyes and slightly parted lips. “His ow— No, no, he hasn’t even got a collar on. No owners.”

“Right, but by law, cats have to be microchipped. Maybe his collar fell off or something?” A hint of amusement danced in Tim’s questions; Martin could tell that Tim was toying with Jon. Jon, however, hadn’t picked up on that. 

“M-maybe,” he replied stiffly. “Right, yes, fine. Vets after work. But he can stay here for now. Till the end of the shift.” 

Martin wandered over to Jon, sitting himself down by the leg of his chair and craning his neck up, tail swishing behind him. 

Right, now that’s sorted, onto the next obvious issue in the office, Jon, he thought. Which is…the obvious and mysterious disappearance of—

“Martin’s late back off his lunch,” Jon noted, checking the office clock with a critical glance. “Could you check the archival assistants’ office please, Tim? Maybe drop him a text. Probably got himself distracted by some…particularly interesting bollards or something…”

Sure, there’d been an insult mixed in there, but Jon had noticed! He’d noticed Martin’s disappearance, and that meant Martin had to repay his kindness! 

Fuelled with delight, the cat sprang up onto Jon’s lap, earning him a surprised chuckle. “Ah! Well, hello! Y-yes, you can sit there while I work, Champion. That’s fine.” 

Tim snorted as he headed out of Jon’s office, arching an eyebrow at the pair of them. “Champion? Are you kidding me? He’s a classic Fluffy or Ginger or Marshmallow or something.”

“Nonsense. He’s brimming with regal strength. A Champion if I ever saw one,” Jon retorted with a sniff, deeming the argument not worth his attention beyond that and turning back to his work. “Let me know if Martin gets back to you. And if he shows up, send him in here.” 

The newly named Champion stretched out lazily on Jon’s lap, settling down for a cheeky nap on company time. 

Already here, Jon. 

──── •✧• ────

[tlcartist]

My boy... I... I’m... killing my boy. Lisa, I’m killing our boy. We painted these walls... we made these toys... It’s our boy, Lisa. Your greatest gift to me... and I’m... killing him. I must already be dead.

Closeups and bg info below 👇

—

Ivan the Terrible was the first Tsar of all of Russia with his reign lasting from 1533-1584. While he greatly expanded Russia’s territory during his life, he was also a tyrant who ruled with an iron fist. His life is complex and filled with many tragic and traumatizing events which likely led to his fits of paranoia, rage, and mental instability, though they by no means excuse his heinous actions, one of which, was the death of his son by his own hand.

When I first saw the original painting I was struck by the sheer emotion within it. Grief, regret, shame, terror, all of it is clearly expressed in Ivan’s expression. The once powerful ruler now small and powerless to stop the events that he set in motion. I like to think that Dracula felt similar emotions at the end of S2 of Castlevania and wanted to explore an alternate ending where, instead of our heroes emerging battered and triumphant, things went horribly wrong. It was also a fun way to bring back the family portrait I did as an Easter egg in the bg.

Castlevania never ceases to be a source of inspiration for me and I hope to create more art based off of it in the future. ❤️

[milswrites]

Failed Dates and Fated Mates

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel had finally asked you on the date he has longed for ever since he met you. Only now the day has arrived, everything seems to be going wrong. Can Azriel still make this a night to remember or will his failed attempts of romance be enough to drive you away?

Warnings: None? (Ok maybe like one mention of snapping necks…and one mention of jumping someone)

The first thing that went wrong was that Azriel was late. Horribly late. In hindsight, planning a date on the same day that Rhysand had asked him to go and check on a rebelling war camp in Illyria was a terrible idea. Azriel had spent the latter part of his day glaring at the sinking sun, willing it to stay glowing in the sky for just a little while longer. Praying to the cauldron that the tedious meeting he had found himself trapped in would soon draw to an end, enabling him to promptly take his leave and fly back to Velaris as swiftly as his wings would allow.

But Azriel wasn’t so fortunate, the dull arguments still ongoing without an end in sight, the traitorous sun now beginning to softly kiss the horizon. The disgruntled shadowsinger sat and listened to the endless disagreements with a clenched jaw, resisting the urge to snap the camp leaders neck in order to put an abrupt end to this fruitless task Rhysand had assigned him.

Foot tapping impatiently against the floor, Azriel restlessly shifted in his uncomfortable seat as the final few words were spoken. The monotonous tone of the male speaking finally came to a blissful halt. Launching from his chair the very moment the meeting was finally over, Azriel flared his wings as he exited the dull tent, shooting up into the now night sky. The sight of the twinkling stars illuminating the swirling black canvas was usually a picture Azriel admired, yet now he found himself swearing at their appearance, their beaming light mocking his tardiness.

The cold bite of the wind numbed his reddened cheeks as he sped through the grey clouds. Cursing himself, Azriel wished he had never taken the mission. Anger building in his chest for being stupid enough to plan a date on the one day this month he was away from his home. Bitter that he had been too cowardly to ask Rhysand to move the meeting once he realized his mistake. So here he was, wings beating forcefully to carry him back to Velaris in as little time as possible, hoping that you would still be waiting for him. Praying that he hadn't spent months working up the courage to ask you on a date only to ruin it by not being there.

~~~~~

His heart never failed to cease its incessant pounding, even as he circled over Velaris in search of a florist where he could buy you some apology flowers in hope they’d make up for his tardiness. He practically threw his money at the startled vendor, snatching the first bouquet he laid his hands on, before once more furiously taking flight, this time in the direction of your home.

He landed roughly, knees buckling with the force at which he had landed. Anxiously stepping over the blooming plants he had crushed during his descent into your garden. Speeding to your door, he raised his shaky hand to knock against the wood. But before he even had the chance to do so, you opened the door as if you had been waiting there for him.

Azriel took the opportunity to admire you as he struggled to catch his breath after the exhaustion that had washed over him during his frantic flight. Allowing himself to take in your beautiful features he had spent the past few months admiring from a distance, noticing the extra effort you had put into your appearance for the date. The light dusting of rosy blush across your rounded cheeks and the deep rouge carefully painted onto your lips. Azriel was captivated, amazed at the skilled way you had highlighted your already perfect features. Trying to resist the hypnotizing urge to lean in and place a testing kiss against your plush lips. Wondering if the rouge would transfer onto his own, marking him as yours.

Chest still heaving, he pulled his arm from behind his back. Revealing the bouquet he had hurriedly bought you as an afterthought. Only, once he pulled them out to hand them to you, he was met with the sight of tangled stems, the violet petals having dropped from the flowers due to the hasty speed at which he had traveled.

Expletives rolled from his tongue at the disastrous direction this evening was already heading in. The date hadn't even begun and everything was already going wrong. But you, sensing his increasing frustration, happily grabbed the mangled stalks from his shaking hands, a teasing grin on your face as you spoke in an attempt to calm the male, “Looks like someone was desperate to see me! Surprisingly not the worst gift someone has given me on a date, I once got a half eaten bar of chocolate.”

“I’m so sorry,” he explained feverishly, beginning to ramble about the horrendous day he had endured, “Rhys sent me to some camp in the middle of buttfuck nowhere and I’ve been in meetings since dawn and I never thought they’d end and I tried to get here on time, I really did and-”

You interrupted his panicked explanation, “It’s ok Azriel, truly. We still have all night ahead of us. Unless you’d prefer to rest after the day you’ve had, in which case I don’t mind if you want to come in for a tea and we can just rearrange it.”

His nerves lessened at your gracious understanding, pounding heart beginning to settle in his chest. “I’d still like that date if I haven't messed up my chances?” he asked hopefully.

Flashing him a pleased smile, you lifted a hand to his hair and plucked out a rogue violet petal from your bouquet, laughing as you said, “you may want to prune yourself before we head off though.”

Azriel raised a scarred hand to his hair, attempting to shake out any of the petals which had found their home in his windswept locks, “better?”

“Almost” you hummed, carefully picking out the last few leaves from his unruly hair. “There,” you said, satisfied at a job well done, “back to your usual handsome self. Although I must admit purple is a good colour on you.” He blushed a deep shade of red at your words, shyly breaking eye contact before he offered a tentative arm for you to take, nervously mumbling as he did so, “shall we?”

~~~~~

The two of you walked contentedly through the cobbled streets of Velaris, Azriel helping to keep you steady as the thin points of your heels kept getting stuck between the uneven stones. He was leading you towards a fancy restaurant he had booked specially for the occasion, remembering how Cassian had raved about the good food and romantic atmosphere after he had taken Nesta there one evening. Swearing that his mate had never shown her appreciation of him more than after she was satisfyingly filled with their delectable food. Azriel hoping that you would enjoy it just as much as Nesta had.

You approached the hostess stand placed outside the heaving restaurant. Walking past a large, winding queue of people who hadn’t booked, eagerly waiting to see if there was a spare table available. Azriel, having walked here a week prior to make the reservation, ignored the line as he went to speak to the staff at the door, “Uh, a booking for Azriel please, party of two.”

The stern-faced hostess checked her books, haughtily flicking through the pages as her brows furrowed, stopping as she finally found the male’s name. “I’m sorry,” she said sharply, no remorse in her voice, “your reservation was for over an hour ago, we gave the table away to someone else.”

Azriel blanched, his face going deathly pale in his flustered panic. You tightened your grip on his arm in hope of easing his worry, opting to speak to the hostess for him before he sank into the shadows in embarrassment, “Is there any chance we could get another table? His work kept him for longer than expected. It was an unforeseen circumstance, we would have sent a message your way if we knew.”

The stone faced woman directed your attention to the long line of people which ran all the way down the street until it curled around the corner, flooding onto the next, “you can join the line like everybody else. Or get this, don’t miss your booking next time.” A miserable Azriel had to hold you back to prevent you from jumping the woman, showing her just what would happen if she continued speaking to you with her sour attitude.

“Fine. Fine!” You huffed, “we’ll find somewhere better. Come on Az.” With that it was your turn to lead the male, dragging him as far away from the restaurant and its insufferably rude staff as you could. The male groaned despairingly at the situation, “Cauldron I’m so sorry. I’ve really made a mess of things.” Brushed his negative words away you scoffed, “I think it’s for the best, wouldn’t want to eat at that snobby place anyway.”

Azriel’s sorrow-filled eyes landed on yours, “maybe we should call it a night? We can try again another day if you’d still want to? this night is a total failure.”

Rolling your eyes at Azriel's pessimistic attitude, you disagreed with the males intentions of ending the night early, “What? Azriel it’s fine! Come on we’ll find somewhere else, there's bound to be hundreds of better restaurants.”

~~~~~

Determined to find a better place than Azriel had booked, which by the look of things wouldn’t be difficult to do, you moved together through the winding streets. Azriel relaxing little by little as you worked to clear his memory of the bad day he’s been having as you talked animatedly with him, hungrily eyeing up every restaurant you passed.

The more and more you walked, locked deeply in an enthralling conversation, the further away you headed from the bustling streets which were full of life. Instead, finding yourselves in the remote backstreets of Velaris, the narrow winding streets home to a different type of breathtaking beauty than the rest of the swarming City.

You passed an empty restaurant, the sign bearing its name hanging on by a single rusted nail. Crooked wooden tables set outside, laden with slightly grubby checkered tablecloths. Anyone would have walked past this, opting to instead go and find a busier, better looking place to eat. But to you, the small restaurant was the perfect place for your date. “This one!” You enthusiastically declared, pulling slightly on Azriel’s hand to stop him from walking past the quaint building.

“Are you sure?” Azriel sounded unsure, having assumed that you would have wanted to be taken to somewhere nicer for your date than a hidden, grubby hole in the wall. “This one’s perfect,” you confirmed with a grin, leaning into the open door to speak to the elderly waiter who was sat in boredom at the counter. Gesturing to the table outside, you stirred him from his daydream, “Are you open? Do you mind if we sit here?”

The man startled to life, disbelief crossing his face that there were actually willing customers before him, ones he didn't have to drag in from the street. “Yes…Yes! Of course! Please, do sit down" he cheered, jumping to his feet before scurrying away to grab some menus.

Azriel helped you take a seat at the wobbly table before moving to sit himself. You closed your eyes in bliss, appreciating the cooling breeze which made the humid night air slightly more bearable. The exited waiter returned with a candle for the table and a cold bottle of wine which he poured into the two glasses for you, “On the house for such a beautiful couple.” The pair of you blushed, thanking the kind man for his generosity, ordering your food from the menu before he scurried off into the kitchen, undoubtedly going to make the food himself.

“I think this is much better than my choice” Azriel mused, eyes now seeing the hidden beauty of the place, smiling at the twinkling fairy lights above you which cast a warm yellow glow over the silent street. It was quiet enough that you could both enjoy a pleasant conversation together, not needing to shout at each other to be heard, nor needing to whisper lowly to avoid annoying any other customers. No, the two of you were free to fall into your own little world, loosing yourselves in a stimulating conversation.

~~~~~

The words flowed easily, never fading into an awkward silence. No, you could talk to Azriel forever and he would be all too happy to listen, so long as it meant getting to spend time with your magnetizing presence. His anxiety now forgotten, he allowed himself to enjoy what had turned out to be a perfect date, the two of you already able to joke about the previous events of the evening.

The food was divine, portions large enough that you could eat your fill until you were satisfied. Stomachs happily full as you continued to sit and drink at the rickety table as you talked for what must have hours.

Testing the waters, Azriel stretched out a tentative hand, hoping to connect it with your own which was resting on the table. Warm eyes never leaving your face as he slowly moved his hand along the top of the table, failing to notice the glass full of wine which was placed before you. Clumsily, he knocked over the glass. His shadows stirred to life, catching the glass before it completely fell over, yet failing to be quick enough to prevent the liquid from spilling all over your lap. The cold temperature of it causing you to squeal in shock.

“Shit!” Azriel cursed as he jumped from his seat, grabbing napkins to come and help pat the wine from your dress, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that! Cauldron I'm such an idiot.”

You placed a gentle hand on his wrist, stilling his panicked wiping which was making the damp stain on your dress worse. “Don’t worry Az,” you smiled sweetly, “it’s just some wine. It will wash out.”

The male sighed deeply, pinching his brow in exasperation, “this night really isn't going the way I wanted it to.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, smile never faltering for a minute, even when you were faced with the sullen male, “and how did you want it to go?”

Roughly plonking himself back into his seat, Azriel inhaled a deep breath before speaking, “well I would have been on time for starters. Then we would have eaten that nice meal, I definitely wouldn’t have spilled your drink all over you. And I booked us tickets for the theatre…which we have definitely missed by now. I just...I wanted to impress you."

“I’ve never really cared for theatre” you dismissed, “it usually puts me to sleep. And Az we did share a nice meal! You don't need to try and impress me, you already do that every day.” You lay your hand upon his, smoothly completing the move he had attempted to do to you, thumb lovingly caressing the scarred skin of his hand, not put off by the uneven skin that made Azriel feel self-conscious.

You sat in thought, thumb still absentmindedly brushing his skin, “you know what? Come on, this nights not over yet.”

You excitedly pulled the Illyrian to his feet, thanking the generous waiter as you tipped him nicely before taking your leave. This time walking through the streets of Velaris with a destination in mind.

~~~~~

Hand in hand, you and Azriel walked along the Sidra, admiring the way the water glistened underneath the moonlight, Approaching a small empty beach, comprised of small rounded pebbles rather than sand, you removed your shoes so you could walk along it. Holding them in your free hand, the one which wasn't locked in Azriel's warm hold, the two of you made your way onto the beach. Walking towards the Sidra, you released Azriel's hand, allowing your bare feet to be submerged by the chilling waters of the river.

“Do you come here a lot?” Azriel asked, appreciating the way you seemed at home here, feet happily kicking through the flowing water as it soaked through the bottom hem of your dress. You looked like a nymph, wandering the shores of a City that appeared alien compared to the natural beauty of this small hidden piece of paradise.

“Sometimes,” you shrugged, “it’s a good place to think. Nobody ever really comes here.”

“It’s beautiful” he concluded, eyes not straying from your angelic form, the moon perfectly placed behind your head like a halo.

“The perfect way to end an incredible date don’t you think?” You grinned, leaving the water to come and walk by his side, his wing moving to curl around you to protect you from the wind which was steadily getting cooler as the night progressed.

Azriel snorted, shoulder bumping against yours playfully, “I’d say it’s been far from perfect. You deserved a better night I’m sorry.”

“Will you stop saying sorry?” You begged, eyes rolling at how pathetic he was making this pleasant evening seem, “I didn’t say yes to a date because I wanted to go to a fancy restaurant or the theatre. I said yes, Azriel, because I wanted to spend time with you. I never cared about what we were going to do. I still don’t! I just wanted to be with you.”

Azriel suddenly stopped in his tracks, you turned around in order to face where he was stood. The male looked like a god. His large winged form illuminated by the soft, warming light of the City which was now far behind, his tangled mane of hair blowing lightly in the wind, as his well-structured face held a picture of surprise due to your words.

“But isn’t that what you’re supposed to do to get someone to like you?” He asked in confusion, Cassian had always told him how you had to treat a woman like a princess. That if you took her out and spoiled her there was absolutely no way in hell they would be able to resist your charm. But what you were saying, that you didn’t need to be spoiled because you just genuinely wanted to spend time with him, had Azriel questioning everything he thought he knew about women.

“You don’t need to do anything to make me like you Azriel. I already do, I always have. From the very moment I first laid eyes on you" you shrugged, unafraid to reveal your emotions for the male who made it all too easy to love him, "you’ve had my heart for longer than you realize, and one - admittedly slightly failed but not completely terrible date - isn’t going to convince me otherwise.”

"But why" Azriel questioned, still not quite understanding how you were so willing to look past everything that hand gone wrong, all caused by his own wrongdoing.

"Azriel I would sit through a million failed dates with you, it doesn't matter! Not if it means we're doing it together." You sighed as you took in his still bewildered expression. Were you really going to have to spell it out for him?

"Cauldron Azriel, you're my mate!" you revealed, trying not to laugh as the males face contorted from confusion to a catatonic stupor, his eyes widening in alarm at your confession. Grinning at his reaction you continued, "If being your mate means I have to love your tardiness, ruined gifts and incredibly poor taste in restaurants then Azriel I would happily sit through every failed date we have. Nothing is going to change how much I long to be with you."

"Mates?" he replied, a crooked smile forming on his face at the realization. Liking the way it sounded on his lips. "Yes!" you beamed, stepping towards his relaxing body so you could throw your arms around him. "So I didn't blow my chance?" he whispered into your ear as the two of you hugged tightly.

"For my mate? I'd give him all the chances in the world!" you answered truthfully, "Although hopefully on the next date you won't freak out as much if things don't go as planned."

"Honestly?" he shyly spoke, "I think there's going to be even more pressure on the next one now I know we're mates. I'm talking major freak outs." You laughed at his words, making a move before he could say anything else, pulling Azriel closer towards you and sealing your lips against his in a passionate kiss.

Lightning struck, and the heavens opened. Torrents of rain falling from the dark clouds which had suddenly blown in from the mountains. It took less than a minute for the rain to soak through your clothes and a minute more for the male to reluctantly pull away from the kiss with a groan. Raging eyes glaring up at the sky as if his anger could cease the heavy fall of water.

Giggling you pulled his chin down so he would face you once more, the rain flowing down your face aiding in cooling your warm skin, which had heated up from the burning desire that was birthed from the lustful kiss you had exchanged.

"Don't" you whispered through swollen lips, admiring the claiming way your lipstick had smudged against his skin, "It's perfect. You're perfect". The uncomfortable way his sodden clothes were clinging to his skin forgotten, Azriel connected his lips with yours once more. The storm that raged around you not enough to deter him from deepening the kiss, tongue meeting yours as you allowed yourselves to get lost in the moment, hidden away on the desolate beach.

And as your lips sensually worked together as one, Azriel finally came to the same conclusion you had. It wasn't how well a date goes that determines whether or not it's perfect. It's the person who’s with you. The kind of person who can find the humor and beauty of a moment whether it’s good or bad. Azriel had found that person, his other half. His mate. And perhaps, he mused to himself as the searing kiss continued, perhaps tonight wasn’t a complete and total failure. Something good did come from it after all.

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

Notes: My first time writing on my laptop and boy what a difference it makes lol. The half eaten bar of chocolate given as a gift on a date unfortunately actually happened 🙃

[nakahras]

᯽ mr. loverman • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • you have a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day and to top it off you can’t even go to the one person you’d want to since he’s out of town. or, at least, you thought so.

warnings • intentional lower case, reader has a nightmare of a roommate, cursing, the use of the pet names doll/baby, chuuya being the gossip he is, fem!reader, nsfw, oral (m -> f), nipple/breast play, some nasty shit is said, masturbation (m), fingering, teasing, slight overstim, idk this is some depraved shit honestly

wc • 4k

a/n • i started this when i was having the worst day ever and just wanted boyfriend chuuya :( i cannot be blamed for the smut idk who wrote that but it wasn’t me

you want to scream — to be more accurate you want to off someone, yourself or someone else, either would suffice. unfortunately you stick to screaming, it would cause you less issues. you lift one of the many pillows on your bed and promptly screech your throat raw into the expensive pillow. your head feels as though it’s going to explode just thinking about how your day has gone.

you thought february 29th was supposed to be a lucky day? an extra day in a leap year meant luck, didn’t it? well in your case it didn’t feel very lucky. not at all, actually. in fact you were sure today was a curse. you woke up late, so, your day was off to a bad start from the beginning. your roommate forgot to pay the electricity bill, again, so you had to take a cold shower and couldn’t even make coffee. you stopped at your favorite coffee shop and not only did they get your order wrong but someone bumped into you on your rush to the train station. there was coffee everywhere. every. where.

thanks to the coffee spill you missed your morning train. which normally wouldn’t be a huge deal, except for the fact that you had an early staff meeting. you try to text your coworker that you were running behind but because your roommate forgot to put the payment in for electricity, your phone didn’t charge and died. you don’t even get your message out. you wanted to cry. luckily the train was early and you made it to work just in time.

you thought maybe you had seen the worst of it. your karma surely couldn’t be that bad, right?

wrong.

you work as a nurse in cardiology. you had not one, not two, but three people code on you. it always came in threes. three emergency services calls. three rounds of performing cpr. three separate incident reports to type out. you were exhausted by the end of the day.

you almost cried again when your favorite coworker offers you a ride home. he was a saint in disguise and you told him so. a literal gift from heaven. you promise him a homemade lunch in return and he waves you off as you climb out of the car. when you get to your apartment you’re pleasantly surprised to see your roommate cleaning. a rare occasion.

the electricity is back on too so you take the opportunity to enjoy a relaxing bath and some wine. you thought, once again, maybe the worst was over.

wrong. again.

when you got out of the bathroom you thought you vaguely heard chatter but chalked it up to a show your roommate was probably watching. you change into a t-shirt, skipping a bra because it’s just you and your roommate at home, and a pair of sleeping shorts that barely cover anything. when you walk out with your headphones on you’re stunned to see 3 strangers in your home.

your roommate looks at you like you’re the crazy one. like she isn’t the one that didn’t warn you about the company. you double check then triple check your phone. nope, not a single text for warning. you awkwardly wave and consider digging a hole and living in it when she introduces one of the strangers as her new boyfriend. in that moment you want to perish, cease from existing altogether.

you don’t even get a chance to grab your food before you’re making a half assed excuse to step away and run back to your room.

you’re now laying on your bed, letting tears of frustration stream down your face. you can’t even call the one person who would make it all better. your boyfriend was away for a business trip. you didn’t want to accidentally interrupt something important. you knew he would drop everything

your boyfriend also has this freaky 6th sense, like he can always tell when you’re thinking of him. so, you’re not surprised when your phone begins to ring and you’re met with his contact photo. you let out a sigh and pick up.

“chuuya…” you breathe out. you sound terrible, you know you do, but you can’t bring yourself to even care to mask it.

you can hear vague rustling in the background before chuuya is speaking. “you don’t sound okay. what’s wrong?”

you start crying again. how does he do that? he always seems to know when you need him most. right now was definitely one of those times. you wish he could actually be there. you missed his warm and safe embrace.

“i’m not. i had a really shitty day and i feel so ridiculous about how much it’s getting to me…” you let out a humorless laugh at how pathetic you feel saying that out loud. you’re throwing a fit over a bad day. who does that?

and all you wanted was for chuuya to be here. but you couldn’t tell him that, if you did he would dismiss everything and come running. then you would feel bad about coming between him and his work. you let out a frustrated sigh.

you can practically hear the frown on chuuya’s face when he speaks. “you wanna tell me ‘bout it? i’ll listen. or is there something else i can do to make you feel better?”

you don’t deserve him. you think to yourself.

moments like this make you really think about how chuuya deserves way more than what you can give him. you go days at a time without talking to him because of school and work. you lock yourself in your room and ignore the world outside just to keep up with your school work. you know it’s unfair to chuuya even if you always do give him a warning. he is always incredibly understanding over it that you almost cry out of guilt. he even brings you meals and hydration packs to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

things like this remind you just how selfish you can be when it comes to him. all you want is him. but are you allowed to even feel like that when he’s away for work — a good reason by the way, much better than your own. he never complains when you need space so why would you? to you the answer is simple, you won’t complain.

of course, chuuya sees it differently. he knows that if you didn’t have to cut everyone off to focus on your work you wouldn’t. but your mind doesn’t work like that and he gets it. does he miss you when you have to take a break from reality? absolutely, but he doesn’t complain because he already knows how bad you feel about it.

so instead of saying ‘yes, i need you’ like you want to you let out another sigh. “how much work do you have left today?”

”funny you ask me that, doll. i finished everything early today.” chuuya chuckles when he can practically see the way you perk up.

you still hesitate when you ask, “does that mean you're coming back to yokohama early?”

the port mafia executive smiles widely at just how adorable he finds you. the way you still get so shy to ask him things that should be a given. chuuya adores you and couldn’t imagine spending his now free time with anyone other than you. so, of course he took the opportunity to get back as soon as possible. apparently his timing was impeccable because from the sound of it, you could use a break.

chuuya was already on his way to your apartment. it was supposed to be a surprise, but he figures since he’s already almost there…

“why don’t you pack a bag and come down to find out for yourself, hm?” he lets out another chuckle when your excited squeal finds it’s way onto his side of the phone.

you quickly grab your small duffle and stuff some essentials into it. you have a drawer at chuuyas jam packed with clothing already and a whole second set of your favorite hygiene products so you only need to grab a few things. you pack your laptop and a couple articles of your comfier clothing. you change quickly, stuffing your legs into some jeans and actually putting on a bra underneath your t-shirt.

you grab your phone where chuuya is still on the line. “okay, all packed. should i come down now?”

“yeah, your surprise should be there any minute.” chuuya pulls up to the front of your building as he says those words and can’t help the pleased smile on his face.

you chuckle and shake your head. “my surprise, huh wonder what it could-“ you’re cut off when your roommate calls out your name questioningly in your rush to get out of the door. your eye twitches when you’re reminded of the randoms in your apartment but put on a smile anyways. “it was so nice meeting you guys, sorry i can’t stay but my boyfriend came back into town early so i’m gonna go see him. bye.”

you don’t miss the way your roommate perks up at the mention of chuuya. “oh? chuuya is here? you should invite him up. i would love to see him.

“i’m sure you would. he’s tired though. maybe some other time.” you grit your teeth and smile sweetly. you don’t wait for a response as you practically run out the door and lock it behind you.

you huff and then remember chuuya is on the other side of the phone still, you grimace realizing he heard the whole thing. “sorry…”

“didn’t know i was so tired.” chuuya laughs as you let out a groan.

you catch the elevator before the doors close from someone just getting out and stab at the button to the ground floor. “i’m tired of their shit, therefore, you’re tired too. plus did you really wanna sit through another awkward meal where my roommate dotes on you. god and her new boyfriend was there. can you imagine how uncomfortable that would be? gross. i don’t wanna think about it anymore.”

“someone’s actually insane enough to agree to date her? condolences to whoever that guy is.” chuuya’s voice drips with genuine surprise.

you let out a giggle at how scandalized your boyfriend sounds. “you’re telling me she doesn’t pique your interest, sunshine?”

he chuckles and you can practically hear the eye roll from his end of the line. “nah, my girl is the only one for me.”

you’re walking out of the elevator when you stop in your tracks for a moment. it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been with him, when chuuya calls you his girl it makes you melt. your brain malfunctions a little and it makes you really think about how you truly are all his.

without hesitation you breathe out an “i love you.” before moving forward to the entrance of your building.

“i love you.” it’s instantaneous, his answer.

chuuya never has to think twice about telling you how much he adores you. he is immutably in love with you. there was no doubt in his mind and, even though it took some time for you to believe so, there was no longer a single doubt in your mind either. chuuya had made certain that you would never question it.

you make it to the entrance. the moment you open the door you’re welcomed with the sight of chuuya leaning against his car. his phone is still up to his ear as his grin widens upon seeing you.

you drop your hand and phone from your ear and hang up before rushing over to the ginger. you drop your duffle bag near the car before jumping into the executive's arms. he was anticipating the impact and caught you with ease.

the bicolor eyed man holds you tightly and you bury your face in his neck. his soft hair tickles your face but you couldn’t care less. you take in a deep breath and his scent envelopes you and all the tension your body had been previously holding completely dissipates.

your voice is muffled when you say, “i missed you, so much.”

“i missed you too.”

you both stand there in each other’s arms for a few more seconds before chuuya sets you down. he grabs your bag from the ground and opens the passenger door for you. you thank him and climb in. your boyfriend wastes no time placing your bag on the backseat and slipping into the drivers side.

the ginger takes you to your favorite take out restaurant and you order all of your favorites. when you get back to his penthouse you set up his couch into a lounge bed and get ready to watch one of your favorite movies. while you’re doing that, chuuya is pouring you both a glass of wine.

you’re happily munching on your food and sipping on your wine when chuuya hits you with. “you should move in.”

your head snaps back to look up at him, your brow is furrowed and you give him a confused look. “we haven’t talked about it before. are you being serious right now?”

“completely.” he doesn’t even look at you, his tone so nonchalant and you’re just gaping at him.

you set your drink and food aside and shift off of chuuya. he’s about to complain until you sit yourself on his lap straddling his waist and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. you pluck the remote from his hand and turn over your shoulder to pause the movie. you wanted to make sure you had his undivided attention (you always did).

you study him for a moment before responding. “are you sure?”

“yes. i have 2 extra rooms that aren’t being used. we don’t have to share a bedroom yet and you would still have a separate office space. c’mon, doll, let me get you out of that nightmare of an apartment.” chuuya reaches up and tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

he did that on purpose. you know he did. the way he caresses your face with his always surprisingly soft fingers is unfair. he knows how distracting it is to you.

you try to process what he says but it takes you quite a bit longer than it should have but it doesn’t take you long to make your decision. “…okay.” it comes out whispered.

“okay?” chuuya asks you incredulously like he was actually expecting you to reject his offer.

you nod your head with a blush creeping up your face. “yes, okay. i’ll move in with you.

chuuya can’t help himself and presses his hands across your back to bring you into him. his lips crash into yours and you share a moment of pure bliss. his lips meld perfectly with yours. he tastes of peppermint and grapes. the taste increases as his tongue slips past your lips and tangles with your own. you let out a short gasp at the sudden intrusion but melt into him anyways.

you both stay like that for a few minutes. your hips begin to stutter on their own. your breaths and gasps and quiet moans fill the atmosphere. chuuya’s hands have found their way under your shirt and he’s already playing with the band of your bra. his fingers expertly undo the clasps and hands glide across your now naked back.

your lungs scream at you. you want more of him but you have to oblige your body’s need for air. you part from his lips and rest your forehead on his own, breath mixing together as you both pant for air.

chuuya only gives you a moment, hips still moving into his when he grabs at your hair and gently pulls your head back so he can trail kisses down your neck. it takes all of his self control to not bite your soft skin. per your request, he’s always careful not to leave marks on areas that would be visible in your scrubs. this is the one instance where his need to please you outweighs his need to be possessive.

if chuuya had it his way, he would make everyone aware of just how much you are his. for your sake, though, he reigns in that side of himself. he supposes he’ll just have to show the world you’re his in different ways. like in the form of a key, and in the form of a ring he has stashed away in the far corners of his closet, and maybe even some day in the form of his child.

chuuya’s brought back to reality by the sound of your voice. he hadn’t even realized that your positions had switched. you were panting underneath him, face flushed, and — fuck — you look so gorgeous like this. you were always beautiful. but having you like this, something only he got to see always made something primal in him stir.

you huff and grab ahold of the ginger’s face. his mind was obviously elsewhere. “chuuya. listen to me. what are you doing?”

chuuya’s eyes, which had glazed over, somewhat clear from the fog. he smiles at you as he lowers himself further down your body and lifts your shirt to press kisses to your stomach. you let out a whine, ready to complain about him still not listening.

“relax, baby, i’m helping you relieve some stress.” chuuya draws soothing circles into your skin then, without waiting for your response his hands travel to your pajama pants to untie them.

your hand shoots out to stop him, still panting and slightly dazed. “what about you?”

“don’t worry about me. i can take care of myself while i take care of you.” he says it so unabashedly you can’t bring yourself to question him.

then your head starts spinning. the thought of him touching himself while taking care of you is so incredibly hot it ignites your entire body on fire. there’s no longer a single thought in your head that doesn’t involve chuuya’s mouth, his lips, his tongue, his hands, his fingers. you need it all.

you reach out and card your fingers through the gravity manipulator’s silky hair. he hums at the action and takes it as his sign to continue. his fingers work quickly, undoing the ribbon and hooking around both the elastic of the pants and your panties. his movements are so fluid and fast you can hardly keep up. your bottom half is completely bare but he’s not satisfied there.

his hand slides up underneath your shirt and through the valley of your breasts. he watches intently as your shirt slowly rides up to expose your breasts. his fingers ghost over each mound briefly before they’re sliding down your body again and gripping at your thighs, holding them open.

“so damn pretty.” chuuya hums and his eyes flit up to gaze up at your flushed face. “do me a favor, baby? play with those perfect tits of yours for me, won’t you?”

his voice is sickly sweet and smooth like honey. you’re so enamored by the sound that you almost don’t hear him. his expectant look is what starts up the wheels in your head to turn. his words process and your hands move on their own accord. you start kneading at your chest while maintaining eye contact with his bicolored eyes.

chuuya groans. “god, doll. look at you. playin’ with yourself like that. ‘s sexy as hell- you’re sexy as hell.”

“chuuya…” you let out a whine. your patience thinning by the second as you wiggle your ass for any chance at friction.

your boyfriend lets out a chuckle. “okay, okay. think i’ve made you wait long enough, hm? deserve a reward for all the hell you were put through today.”

chuuya, once again, doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he’s dipping his head down to get face to face with your already slick cunt. his tongue is quick as he runs it up and down your folds. you feel him sigh in relief against you, like this is the first meal he’s had in days. it might as well be with how much he craved you when he was away.

although, he was focused on you — focused on making this all about you — chuuya knows if he doesn’t make good on his word of relieving himself you’ll never let him hear the end of it. who is he to deny himself the added pleasure when you’re demanding it of him. so, chuuya lets go of one of your thighs to fumble with his belt and free his strained cock from its confines.

you vaguely watch his arm move. your attention wavering as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks. your back arches and hands squeeze at your breasts in surprise as you moan out his name.

chuuya smirks, absolutely pleased by the reactions he elicits from you. his hand that freed his cock moves to collect some of the wetness that’s steadily dripping out of you. once he’s satisfied with the amount he lowers his hand and uses your slick as lube to touch himself.

you try to comment on it but your mouth isn’t working right. the only thing that comes out is, “chuuya~ so good. ‘s so- fuck- so good…”

chuuya groans, clearly enjoying this as much as you are. his hips start to stutter as he lets go of your other thigh to gather more of your juices in that hand. his mouth it still making expert work of your clit while his fingers are closing in on your entrance. he teases you a little, circling the hole a few times before slowly pushing in two of his lithe fingers.

your head is thrown back as a slew of cursed moans falls from your lips. this time chuuya lets out a moan of his own when he feels your walls fluttering around his fingers already. his hand being used on himself starts pumping faster, his cheeks hollowing more frequently and fingers start sliding in and out of you at an alarming rate.

he’s close, you realize. he’s close and wants you to cum before him. you aid him in his endeavor by rolling your nipples between your fingers then squeezing slightly to pinch them. the added sensation makes your whole body twitch.

“f-fuck, fuck, fuck. chuuya, gonna cum~ ‘s too much. gonna-“ a euphoric wave crashes over you and you let out an embarrassing squeal like moan as your vision spots and ears rings.

chuuya’s slurps while lapping up at your orgasm are insanely lewd and the noise alone is enough to send him crashing as well. what really does him in is the sight before him. your eyes rolling back into your head and mouth hanging open. he moans deeply, from his chest, and spills into his hand. he pumps himself a few more times until he’s twitching from the overstimulation.

chuuya laps up every last drop your cunt has to offer while you come down from that amazing high and catch your breath. when he’s happy with his clean up he rests his cheek on your thigh. you prop yourself up to look at him. he looks so angelic, hair slightly tousled from your fingers running through it earlier, face glistening from your juices and face flushed. chuuya smiles at you then turns his head to leave sweet kisses on your inner thigh.

you let your head hang back before groaning. he was going to be the death of you. you knew he wasn’t finished with you by a long shot.

“we have plenty of time to do this when i move in.” you whine.

chuuya lets out an elated laugh. “so, when are we moving you in? tomorrow?”

you let out a genuinely amused laugh, shaking your head at his eagerness.

[heliads]

hi!! Can I request Harry Potter x f!reader, where Harry and y/n are dating and during the battle reader gets severely injured almost dead by Voldemort and Harry doesn’t know until after he defeats him he goes looking for reader but can’t find her, getting scared he goes looking for her and finds her under a pile of rubble realizing she’s about to die he uses the resurrection stone or wand to bring her back to life/heal her. Sorry if it’s really I’ve never requested before!

just read manacled so i'm desperately craving to write some hp angst so this request was perfectly timed thx anon xoxo

'someone take me home ' - harry potter

masterlist

The air is dark, choked with the ash and smoke of Harry Potter’s only true home.

Although he is not the one setting fire to the turrets, sending trolls in to demolish the stone parapets, or hurling curses through glass windows, Harry still feels responsible for the destruction. He is the one who challenged Voldemort by trying to hunt down his Horcruxes. He is the one who has brought this needless death and destruction into the castle. When Voldemort made his pronouncement that all of this fighting could cease if they would only turn Harry over to the Death Eaters, Harry had felt the weight of that guilt settle onto his shoulders like a cloak. It is his doing, all of this. He is the one to blame.

The only way he can make up for it is to end this, once and for all. If he does not kill Voldemort tonight– if he cannot end this war quickly– every life lost, every shred of memory and pride lost in the broken castle’s rubble will have fallen because he could not get the job done. Harry is responsible for everything that happens here tonight. He has to be responsible for winning it, too.

Harry is close to the end. So close. He has already died once tonight. He does not want it to happen again. For a moment there, when he went into the woods alone to meet his soon-to-be killer, armed only with a wand, a wish, and a deeply seated terror that would not leave him, Harry had not thought that he would come back. Dumbledore had not had the chance to specify that in his memories, that Harry would survive the Avada Kedavra curse for the second time in his life.

Harry had not known at all. Through Snape’s memories, he had seen that he would have to die for Voldemort to be killed, but there was no guarantee that Harry would come back. When Harry came away from the Pensieve burdened with that terrible truth, he had assumed that the blinding flash of green light would be all. When he said goodbye to Ron and Hermione, he had left them thinking that he would never return. Walking away from them was horrible, the price of seven years’ worth of incredible friendship. The only thing worse than that was leaving Y/N.

Y/N L/N. Harry’s girlfriend. They started dating during their fifth year, coasting on the thrill of sneaking around behind Umbridge’s back to run the DA. He’d liked her for longer, of course, he swears half the boys his year had a crush on Y/N at least since their second winter at Hogwarts, but Harry was the one who got to keep her around. He never forgot how lucky that made him. And, leaving her behind in the ruins of Hogwarts Castle to end his life, Harry reminded himself of it then, too. Even if he was going to die, he had lived a properly good life before the moment the Killing Curse was spoken aloud. He should have no reason to mourn all of the moments he would never have when he already experienced and enjoyed so many.

To distract himself in those cold, empty woods, Harry had reached into his pocket for the small, dark stone left to him by Dumbledore in the shell of a Golden Snitch. It’s probably not wise to carry a Deathly Hallow through the Forbidden Forest in search of a Dark Lord, but Harry was, after all, headed towards his certain death, so he figured that a little bit of risk was acceptable under those circumstances. Turning the Resurrection Stone over in his pocket, Harry had let his eyes flicker closed as he thought of something– as he wished for it, more than anything, more even than he needed to be alive– and then his eyes had opened, and he had seen his parents.

His first thought was that they looked just like their photographs. They smiled at him, reaching out wispy hands to guide him onwards. Remus and Sirius had joined not soon after. It was easier to be brave when he wasn’t alone, and it must have just been his mind imagining it, because he swore that just before he emerged into the clearing containing Voldemort’s camp, Harry saw Y/N there too, smiling and calling out to him.

He just wanted to think of her one last time, that was all. It meant nothing. Y/N was alive with Ron and Hermione. The one-hour truce had probably ended by then, so they would all be fighting again, but his two best friends would keep the love of his life alive. Of course they would. He made them promise.

Harry had removed that worry from his mind, and then he had died and subsequently come back to life. When he was lying on the cold ground, when Narcissa Malfoy had bent over him and asked him as quietly as she dared if her son was still alive, Harry has to admit that he was not thinking about the good of the mission to kill Voldemort, nor how he could keep up that crusade if he stayed alive. No, he thought about seeing Y/N one more time, and so he told her that Draco was still living. Harry didn’t even know if it was a lie or not, it didn’t matter, it worked. It could be true. Harry had no way of telling if Draco had passed away. All he could do was survive, clawing inch by inch until he could make it back to the grounds of the castle and tell for certain who was dead and who was alive.

The ruse, however misguided, had worked, and then Voldemort had crowed with sickly joy and dragged Harry’s body back to the castle. Harry was forced to remain stock-still, terrified to move so much as a muscle lest he give himself away and incur a second Killing Curse.

Now he is back, back here, back in the present moment, back in the castle. Harry is alive and everybody knows it. Harry heard the cheers erupt when he flung himself away from Hagrid to stand opposite Voldemort again, but he dared not look back. One distracted glance gives Tom Riddle a chance to kill him, and Harry cannot– he will not– give himself away like that after everything. His friends need him. Y/N needs him. Harry must do this, he must win.

Harry is no stranger to dueling, both with friends and enemies. When Voldemort points the Elder Wand at Harry, the wand that technically is under Harry’s control, Harry feels the moment thrumming in his veins like a bloodlust even before his opponent casts the spell. His wand hand rises of his own volition, the spell rising to his lips by reflex alone.

Two incantations are chanted at the same time. Avada Kedavra, Voldemort shrieks across the dusty courtyard, his voice like a death rattle. Expelliarmus, Harry shouts back, his heart leaping into his chest. He has never meant a spell like this before, and he swears he never will.

For a moment, all is still, all is quiet. The Death Eaters and students alike watch with bated breath as the two spells arc across the courtyard, but then Voldemort’s bright spark of green rebounds the second it comes into contact with Harry’s, sending both tumbling towards the Dark Lord. The Killing Curse hits Voldemort, and just like that, with no pomp and circumstance, no drama befitting the one who has caused them all so much violence and grief, Tom Marvolo Riddle dies.

Harry doesn’t believe it. Truly, he doesn’t, until he forces his limbs to walk over to the body of Voldemort and stand, staring, at the corpse until he is certain it does not move again. Slowly, surely, the Death Eaters peel away, and the students and members of the Order of the Phoenix come back again, surging around him like an ocean wave, rejoicing in their victory.

Ron and Hermione reach him first, one at each side. They embrace him, half crying, half beaming. Hermione’s saying that he’s done it, he’s won, and Ron is grinning at him proudly, telling Harry that he knew he could do it. Harry waits for the fourth person to join their party, but for some reason, she never does.

Harry pulls back slightly from their embrace. “Guys,” he says uncertainly, “Where’s Y/N?”

Ron and Hermione exchange confused looks. “She was just here,” Ron says vacantly. “Wasn’t she, Hermione? I swear I saw her a minute ago. We were fighting together, then a bunch of Death Eaters split us up. I got back to Hermione as soon as I could, but–”

“But you didn’t see her?” Harry interrupts. His voice sounds harsher than he intends, but a sudden, icy panic is beginning to flood through his system, and he cannot think about anything– he will not think about anything– until he is certain that this fear is unfounded.

He looks desperately at Hermione, the reasonable one, the one who always comes up with answers in times of crisis like this one, but she shakes her head quietly. “None of us have seen her since the fighting started up again,” she whispers. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“No,” he says forcefully, “No, that’s not right. Y/N is alive. We just lost her in the crowd, that’s all.”

It must be true. Harry won’t look at either of them, won’t see the slow rush of guilt that’s creeping into both of their faces. Y/N has to be here. She wouldn’t just leave him like this.

Harry pushes past the two of them, fighting his way back through the crowds. He scans every face he sees, ignoring friends and professors the moment he’s sure they aren’t her. When he doesn’t see her immediately, Harry looks not at the crowds but the grounds, the walls, to see if she’s lying down somewhere. She could still be resting, or maybe she has a broken leg or something and can’t move. There is still a way that she could be alive. There is still a way that she could come back to him.

No sign of her. Harry is about to leave the courtyard and try searching somewhere else, and then he sees a hand crumpled near a pile of rubble. The hand, bloody and streaked with dust, is connected to an arm, an arm which lies limp from a shoulder, which leads to a chest which leads to a face, a face he knows, a face which is Y/N’s.

Harry is kneeling on the ground in a flash. The body of a fallen Death Eater is somewhere to the side, and Harry has the brief, proud thought that Y/N managed to kill one of them before she– He cuts himself off just in time.

Y/N seems perfectly fine by all accounts, were it not for the ash beginning to tint her face a lifeless shade. It gets everywhere, that stuff, but it won’t matter, they’ll have time to clean up later, once it is all over. It is all over, he realizes belatedly, but not quite yet. Not until she sits up again and smiles at him like she always does.

Harry waits for this to happen, for her chest to rise and fall, for any sign of movement. Nothing comes. It is only sitting here, waiting, watching for nothing, when he realizes at last that Y/N is dead. He missed his chance to save her. Y/N is dead because Harry couldn’t beat Voldemort fast enough.

The grief crashes over him in spasming attacks. He cannot lose her, not like this. It was easier to be the one dying when he knew she would go on to live a long, happy life, but this is wholly different and much worse. Y/N deserved far more than a death at seventeen. She deserved far more than Harry letting her down in this final way.

He can’t allow this to happen. Harry has killed the Dark Lord, he has freed the Wizarding World from death and destruction, he will save his girlfriend and it will be his last victory. Harry claws at his pocket for the Resurrection Stone– he almost lost it in the Forbidden Forest, but not quite, and now he has it still– and presses it with shaking hands against her heart. Harry closes his eyes and wishes with everything he has that she would come back.

He doesn’t want to open his eyelids. If it doesn’t work– he can’t look at her again, fallen and still. He stays in the darkness until someone tells him in a light voice, “You can look now, Harry. I’m alright.”

Harry opens his eyes and almost sobs again. There, sitting up, is Y/N. She smiles at him. “Don’t look so surprised. You know what the stone does, don’t you?”

“I do,” he croaks, “but– I was so afraid, Y/N. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t have to,” she whispers back. “We’ll always be together now.”

He wants this. Harry reaches forward and embraces her. He can hardly feel her hug him back, but she’s probably still injured from the fight. She’ll have to get up to the hospital wing as soon as possible, Madam Pomfrey can make her as good as new in a second’s flash.

Harry steps back so Y/N can stand up, and then he starts to lead her back through the courtyard. Ron and Hermione have caught up to him by now, and they stare at Y/N with undisguised shock.

“She’s back,” Harry says exultantly, as if they couldn’t tell that already.

Hermione nods faintly. “Harry…”

Her voice trails off. Ron lays a comforting hand on her arm, then turns to Harry. “You found her, then?” 

For some reason, he doesn’t seem nearly as happy as Harry thinks the situation deserves. He’s just found out one of his best friends is alive, after all, but instead he seems as if he’s just come from a funeral.

“I did,” Harry confirms. “I’m going to take Y/N to the hospital wing now, just in case.”

Y/N nods in agreement, which makes Ron and Hermione exchange knowing glances again.

“What?” Harry asks, somewhat cross.

“Nothing,” Hermione says a little too quickly. “It’s just– Oh, Harry, you have the Resurrection Stone, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “Why do you ask?”

The look in her eyes is deeply sorrowful. “You have to let go, Harry.”

He shakes his head. “What are you talking about? I just got Y/N back, I have to make sure that she’s alright.”

He moves to brush past them, but Ron holds out an arm. “Here, I’ll take Y/N to the hospital wing. How about you stay and talk to Hermione for a little longer?”

Y/N looks unhappy about this, and although Harry doesn’t quite want to be parted from her yet, he can’t technically see any problems with this, so he agrees, and watches mournfully as Y/N trails away behind Ron. She’s moving slower than usual, but again, that must be due to injury.

Hermione takes him by the arm and steers him away from the quickly burgeoning crowds. “Harry,” she begins slowly, “Do you remember what Xenophilius Lovegood said about the Deathly Hallows, about the Stone in particular? How it drove the second brother mad because his bride came back from the dead, but she was never really the same?”

“I do,” Harry says vaguely, not entirely sure what this has to do with him, “But that’s not the case with Y/N, though, she’s fine. I reckon it’s because I have the Elder Wand too, you know?”

Hermione sighs. “Harry, that’s not the Y/N you lost. She’s different. I think she’s closer to a ghost than a person.”

“No,” Harry says unsteadily, “She’s just like I remember, honestly. I don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s nothing like a ghost.”

Hermione takes a slow breath in and out. She’s obviously fighting tears. “That’s because she hasn’t been herself lately, even before she– even before she died, Harry. The war has been hard on all of us, but her especially. It’s taken quite the toll on her, so much so that you would see a ghost of the girl you knew and still think it was her.”

“That makes no sense,” Harry protests, but a persistent feeling of doubt is starting to shadow his mind.

“I can prove it,” Hermione insists, and reaches into her pocket to pull out a photograph.

Harry holds it in his hands and stares. He remembers the moment this photo was taken more than he recognizes the actual people inside of it. This was one of the last days they had to themselves before the war broke out in earnest and everything went to hell. It had been in the spring, all four of them in the Gryffindor Common Room. Colin Creevey had taken the photo while they were unawares and to punish him, they’d confiscated it. Harry had no idea Hermione had held onto it, but now he’s pressingly grateful that she had.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all look the same, albeit a little younger, a little less beaten down, but Y/N– the Y/N in this photograph is nothing like the girl he’d just seen. This Y/N is vibrant, laughing uproariously at a joke one of them has just told. The version of her in the photograph turns with a start when the photo is taken, but she’s still grinning up at him, still happy. Harry feels as if a saturation charm has been cast upon the photo, it’s the only thing that would explain why she looks so bright and alive here.

Alive, unlike how she looks right now, because she isn’t. Harry had tried to bring her back, but it hadn’t worked completely. Just like in Lovegood’s story. He thinks back to the past few months and he remembers how Y/N had been, how the light had slowly drained from her. The constant running had been hard on all of them, but it was worst of all on Y/N. She was the one forever thinking of new places to go, new things to try, wearing the locket for the longest, never putting up a fight. Slowly but surely, it had coaxed the life out of her, so much so that Harry couldn’t even tell when she was just a shade he had brought back from the dead.

Hermione nods slowly, seeing that Harry understands at last. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry.”

“So am I,” he murmurs bleakly.

“Are you going to end the enchantment?” She asks him.

Harry feels like he’s drowning, engulfed in the ash and flame surrounding him. “I will. Just– let me say goodbye first.”

“Of course,” Hermione says. “We’ll be here when you need us.”

It’s more than he can ask of her right now, both to pull him out and to support him when he’s reeling from the shock of it all. They must be devastated too, Hermione and Ron, both of them have friends here who have died in this final battle and throughout the whole war, but they’re putting him first again. He’ll never be able to thank them enough for that, but he can try.

An idea occurs to him as he walks over to Y/N. He’s still got the Elder Wand in his pocket. He hadn’t needed it for the Resurrection Stone, he hadn’t even been touching it, but maybe– just maybe–

He casts a quick summoning charm to bring his invisibility cloak over, then pulls the Resurrection Stone out of his pocket. The Elder Wand in his other hand completes the triad. All three Deathly Hallows, all together at last. Dumbledore had wondered what having all of them together might do, how one might finally become a Master of Death. He had mused once that perhaps one had to accept the inevitability of one’s own death, to brush it off and greet Death as an old friend, as the third brother had done in the tale.

Harry has done this already. Died. He accepted it then. Facing Y/N, he accepts it now. He may die from doing this, but it would be alright. Y/N deserves to live. Harry embraces his fate, whatever it may be. He has the Hallows, but he would give them up for her, he would give up anything. Even himself. He has not meant a spell like this before, except once, and he swears he never will.

There’s a sudden rush of wind around him that forces Harry’s eyes shut, just for a moment. When he opens them, Y/N is still there, but she’s a shade no longer. This time, when she surges forward and hugs him, he feels the embrace completely. 

“It’s really me,” she laughs, shocked, “I don’t know how you did it, Harry, but I’m really back.”

“You promise?” Harry gasps, half choking on his own surprise.

“I promise,” she smiles.

Harry glances back over his shoulder to where Hermione and Ron are watching with dropped jaws. One look at his friends is all he needs to know at last that yes, this is real. He’s finally won. The Dark Lord is dead. His love is alive.

At last, at long last, the last of his burdens disappear into the faint light of morning. Harry Potter is free.

harry potter tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @frenchgirlinlondon, @23victoria, @ilovexavierthrope

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[andypantsx3]

andie, just need you to know that today I saw this:

and even though I 100% knew what I said, my brain went ahead and said "happy edgings only zone" and idk what to do with that

Oh my god Tiph you're a genius.

HAPPY ENDINGS EDGINGS : TODOROKI SHOUTO x READER

NOTES: 1k, pro hero au, fem + afab reader, established relationship, oral (f receiving), edging, 18+ minors please dni

It had been hours. Several long, torturous, unbearable hours, while you begged and squirmed, and Shouto watched you intently, never ceasing, but never giving you what you truly wanted.

“Ah—! Sho, please—!” you cried, as his mouth met the skin of your thigh, not at all where you wanted him. His eyelashes fluttered as he layered a deliberate, bruising kiss over the join where your thigh met your hip.

It was only his firm grip on your leg that kept you in place as you squirmed, the feeling strange and ticklish.

“Shouto, Shouto, please please please,” you begged deliriously, your voice raw from the hours of begging you’d already done. 

But once Shouto got something in his brain, it was almost impossible to deter him. And you’d made the mistake of reading a tweet out loud, containing the term edging—something Shouto was unfamiliar with, but apparently determined to make himself acquainted with as soon as possible.

He’d pressed you down to the couch right then, only pausing to elicit your permission for what he had in mind. And then he’d spent the last few hours working you up into a babbling, shivering, sweating mess, something thoroughly pleased darkening his eyes.

His mouth slid back over you, exactly where you wanted him but soft—so unbearably soft—and the couch cushion almost tore in your grip, in your desperate effort not to reach down and give yourself the relief you so wanted.

Shouto’s tongue circled your clit, horribly, awfully gentle and torturously slow. His grip tightened on your thighs, holding you down as you tried to lift your hips into the feeling—to get more, any pressure at all.

“Please, I can’t take it. Shouto. It’s too much, not enough��” you groaned, turning your face into the skin of your arm, breaths coming fast.

Shouto hummed low, the sound rolling through you like a hot wave, and your toes curled. “Just a little more, love,” he said, voice soft, before licking over you once more, even slower and more deliberate than before.

You bit back a helpless moan, trying not to cry as the feeling of his mouth on you shifted into slow, leisurely sucking. The hours and hours spent on edge had you desperate, dizzy, absolutely wild with want. Every single nerve ending in your body was standing on end, screaming for Shouto.

“I don’t—I can’t take it, please—”

“You can, love,” Shouto answered, tongue laving directly over your clit with just a bit more firmness, a fraction more of the pressure.

Your hips jumped, but Shouto had been prepared for that, all that pro hero strength holding you down, his grip unrelenting. You hissed. He looked like a prince but he was a demon, a fucking devil—

Shouto’s mouth worked you carefully, agonizingly perfect, sweet and gentle and horrible and terrible. He groaned softly when your hips jumped again, and when you looked back at him he was watching you, those mismatched eyes glued directly to your face, intent on your every expression.

“Do you want to come, love?” he asked finally, flicking his tongue in a way that had you gasping instead of answering him. Your fingernails dug into the fabric of the cushion, your grip shaking.

“Answer me, love,” he said, curling his tongue around the question again.

You hated him. You loved him. You wanted to kick him, wanted to kiss him, wanted to crawl over him and ride him until he was just as much of a shivering mess as you were.

“Yes. Please yes, please yes,” you babbled, and you could feel his mouth shift into the tiniest smile over you. He was a menace, fucking hells—

He kissed you wetly, messily, right over your center, still too light and too careful not to be designed to frustrate you. Your chest heaved in a sob, and the pressure of his mouth on you finally, finally grew firmer, his tongue flickering intentionally over your clit again in short, firm licks.

He hummed again, the sound vibrating through you, and then he was adjusting your legs around his shoulders, locking you firmly against his mouth. 

You suppressed a scream as he sucked and licked, wet and filthily, unable to go anywhere, unable to do anything but feel the pleasure of his mouth, feel everything he wanted you to feel. You writhed but he held you securely against him as he worked you with the skill and knowledge of a years-long partner, doing exactly everything you liked and not letting you escape it. You could only pant, helpless and hungry for him.

You’d been on edge for hours, pleasure drizzling out of you slowly like honey, so it only took a few more moments for Shouto to work you right up to the peak.

A final long, torturous lick over your clit had you cumming, squealing, arching in Shouto’s hands and shivering through it. The thread of your pleasure unraveled after so long pulled taught, and you were nearly in tears from the relief of it.

Shouto licked you through until you squirmed with the aftershocks. Everything felt hot and syrupy and oversensitive, and you didn’t know if you wanted to get away from Shouto or wanted even more of him.

Finally, Shouto layered one final kiss over you before his eyes found yours again, still dark with desire. He looked so handsome, his hair ruffled and a flush high on his cheekbones, his gaze almost glassy with want.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked.

You nodded, still catching your breath.

Shouto smiled, then, a quirking of that full, soft mouth—boyish and beautiful. “Good. Because I have plans for you yet,” he told you, crawling back over you so that his full weight pinned you down into the couch.

You could only grin helplessly back, before leaning up to kiss him. Maybe you should read him tweets more regularly, if this was the result. You would have to look into it—but later. Much, much later, after he was finally done with you.

You had a feeling it wouldn’t be for a while yet.

[moonlight-hwa]

8:30pm ~ C. S

Synopsis: After a long and terrible day, you come home to your loving boyfriend, who is ready to comfort you no matter what.

Pairing: bf!san x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff, a little angsty

Warnings: mentions of sucky a boss, mc is on her period (I might be projecting)

Word count: 1,372 (it turned out to be way longer than I anticipated)

A/N: ummmm…so this turned out to be very self indulgent. Anyway, something to read while I work on the Wonwoo one shot.

Your day had been going absolutely horrible. First, it had all started with most terrible cramps you’ve ever had…and the painkillers you took did absolutely nothing to ease the pain, at that you felt like climbing back in bed and crying yourself back to sleep because it hurt so bad; but you couldn’t do that, you had work to get to…and that is where the second fact comes in.

     You work at a small little publishing company, with no more than 30 other people working there, its small and quaint and that’s what you like about it…but you absolutely hate your boss, he just simply sucks. Ever since you started working there, he had labeled you his assistant (even though that was not your position and never has been your position) and handed off all the work he was supposed to do to you. So, he expected you to do your actual job, plus all his work and he didn’t care if that lead you to stay late or get burned out quickly, he just wanted some one that would do his work for him.

      And the third and final thing that happened, just sent you over the edge completely, was you spilling coffee all over your desk and all over papers you had to give back to your boss. After cleaning up you had to hide out in the restroom and try to collect yourself…you refused to cry at work. So, with glossy eyes you finally left the restroom and went back to work, while always on the verge of a breakdown.

       And once you had finally made it back to you and your boyfriend’s shared apartment and shut the door behind you, that was when the floodgates opened and tears began flowing down your face; your hand moved to cover your mouth, trying desperately to make sure your sobs were quiet. You hated when you cried like this, it made you feel so hopeless and weak…the smallest of things making you cry, made you feel stupid for crying over such things.

       “Baby?” A soft voice spoke, causing your soft sobs to cease completely and your eyes to open, gaze locking with your boyfriend’s. A worried expression was painted on his features as he took careful steps toward you “What happened, darling? Why are you crying?” San asked softly as gentle hands went up to either side of your face, thumbs catching tears that continued to trail down your cheeks. You shake your repeatedly, breathing in sharply “Its-Its just so stupid.” You said through broken cries. “No, no its not stupid…it’s never stupid to cry, you have every right to cry over things…no matter how small they are, okay?” He tells you and you nod in response.

     San gives you a small smile “Now…can you tell me what’s making you cry, so I can make it better.” He says and you remain silent as you gnawed on your bottom lips, gaze staying locked with San’s comforting one. You knew you should tell him about your terrible day…you knew it would make you feel better after doing so, but you honestly didn’t want to talk about it in that moment…you just wanted to be in San’s arms and completely forget about the events of today.

    You shake your head as your vison blurs with more tears. “You don’t want to talk about it?” He confirms and you nod in response, a few tears leaving your eyes. San nods in confirmation “Okay…we don’t have to talk about, I won’t push you for anything.” He says, before pulling you into the comfort of his embrace. Even more tears fall your eyes as you burry your face in the crook of his neck, San rubs a soothing hand on your back before pressing his lips to crown of your head.

      “Do you need anything?” He asked softly, after a few moments of silence. You breathe in a shudder breath “Can you just hold me.” You simply say, tightening your hold around San’s waist and he nods “Okay, I can do that…do you want to go lay in bed?” You simply nod, muttering a soft ‘please’. And without another word San’s arms move, to where his hands were on the back of your thighs, while your arms wrapped around his neck before he lifted you up effortlessly and carried you to your shared bedroom.

       “Need anything else, baby?” San spoke once more as gently set you on your side of the bed and just as he asked that the familiar stabbing pain of cramps began again. You wince slightly “Heating pad.” You simply say and the smallest of frowns forms on his lips, immediately understanding what that meant. “Okay, I’ll go get that for you, darling.” He said with a small smile, as he stood up from his crouched position and placed a peck to your forehead, before stepping over to the closet, in search of the heating pad.

     While waiting for San to come back with the heating pad, you absently stare up at the ceiling, replaying the demanding words of your boss. You chew at the inside of your cheek, beginning to feel anxiety fill the pit of your stomach as you thought about all the things you had to get done for work; you’re so lost in your thoughts, you don’t register San calling for you and you only do so when you feel him grab your hand. Your head turns toward him and a smile forms on his lips “There she is…now tell me what has you zoned out so hard.” He says as turns on the heating pad and places it on your lower abdomen.

       “I just…I’m just feeling really anxious and stressed out.” You answer truthfully and San nods slowly “About work?” He asked in confirmation, and you nod in response “Do you want to talk about it?” He gently asked as his thumb moved across your knuckles. Your tears have long since stopped, the only thing remaining is the low pulsing of headache forming and you’ve clamed down enough to where you can talk, without bursting into another fit of tears…so in the end you nod in response. San smiles, dimples making an appearance “Okay…I’m all ears, darling.” He says.

     You breathe out a soft sigh, before finally speaking “Well…you know how Mr. Ju is,” You begin and San nods in understanding, knowing exactly how he is from the number of times you’ve talked about him. “He’s just so unbearable, lazy, annoying and he makes me hate my job…but I love my job, I love what do and I don’t want to quit because of him. But god, he makes consider it every time I come home late and exhausted.” You say, feeling frustration bubble up inside you. “Oh, and then today, on top of me starting my period and Mr. Ju being his usual self toward me…I spill coffee all over my desk…soaking every single paper in coffee. I had to go hide out in bathroom, because I almost started crying.” A frown had tugged downward on the corners of San’s lips as he listened to your words.

    You breathe out a frustrated sigh, hands covering your face “I just have so many things to do and not enough time to do them.” You say, before incoherently rambling about how you needed to redo all the things that got soaked in coffee and already existing work on top of that. “Darling.” San spoke trying to get your attention, but it proved to be fruitless…so he repeated himself, only a bit louder this time and at that he gained your undivided attention.

    “You’re at home baby…you shouldn’t be stressing so much about work while at home, you should be relaxing and enjoying your time here.” He says and you feel the stresses and the anxieties of the day begin to dissipate. “So…lets just focus on the fact that it’s just you and me, everything will be okay and if doesn’t end up being okay…then I will always be here when ever you need comfort. Okay?” You nod in response.

And in that moment you knew everything would be okay, because you had San right beside you when it wouldn’t be.

[peachsukii]

Hihi, Peach!

I totally don't know if you're even taking asks, and you can ignore this if I you need to but! I had such a horrible, terrible day and I was hoping you could write something small to make me feel better about everything.. 😅

So, seven hours ago, I was a bright blonde but I needed a touch up so I went into the salon and payed 100 dollars for some upkeep.. I sat patiently for nearly six and a half hours, only to turn out with white/bleachy ashy roots and dark brown hair...... So not what I wanted! I sobbed in that stylists chair until my hair dryer and she just brushed ut off. Everyone has been telling me that it looks fine but compared ro the bright, beachy blonde that I came in with, I feel blatantly ugly now.. ☹️

Could you maybe write a super quick drabble or something about how Bakugo would try to comfort? If not, I totally get it! I adore your work so much.

Have the best day, lovely! 💕💕

Awww I'm so sorry to hear that :( There's nothing worse than getting the opposite of what you want, and paid for, done! I hope you don't mind that I use this little prompt for a Softie Sunday piece. <3

₊✩‧₊ ⎯  picture perfect 『 ♡ Bakugo x reader 』

content // age 22, fluff. reader & bakugo live together, he dyes your hair for you. :) 『 #reis softie sundays + softie sundays archive 』

Bakugo's sitting on the couch of your shared apartment, invested in his book while the TV buzzes in the background. He hears your key turn in the door and peaks over the pages toward the foyer, patiently waiting for you to reveal your new hair. You've been gone for over half the day - he assumed you'd be a few hours, but not...all day. Maybe you went with something completely different than usual?

When the door opens, you scuttle inside with your head hung low, a baseball cap covering your hair. Bakugo could somewhat see your hair sticking out from underneath. Why the hell were you hiding it?

"Didn't ya just get your hair done?" he calls from the living room. "What's with the hat?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," you say quietly, taking off your shoes and retreating to the bedroom. Without hesitation, Bakugo tosses his book onto the cushion and quickly perks up to follow you back to your joint bedroom. He leans on the doorframe, curiously watching you pace back and forth in front of the mirror.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asks, arms crossed over his chest. You slowly reach up to take off your hat, untucking your hair and letting it fall naturally.

"I hate my hair."

Bakugo gives you a once over, confused as to why you'd be upset. "S'nice. You're always pretty to me, sweetheart. What's wrong with it?"

"Over six hours and it came out the opposite of what I wanted. They stripped out my blonde color and replaced it with...this." You pull a strand of hair forward as example, showing off the new brownish color.

"I could fix it for ya," he proposes while walking over to you, fluffing your hair gently in his hands. "Used'ta bleach Red's hair for him back in school."

You sniffle and lean against his shoulder. "I'd like that."

He never ceases to surprise you.

Within the hour, Bakugo's back home with all the needed materials to fix your hair - toner, bleach, and gloss. Over the next few hours, he's tending to your hair to help bring it back to what you wanted, extremely focused on doing a perfect job. By the time you're all finished, it's way past his normal bedtime. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he's exhausted, but you're his number one priority - sleep can wait until Bakugo knows you're happy.

Once he's done drying your hair, he brushes it out for you before letting you look in the mirror, admiring his work. For an at home job, it's not half bad. He spins you around and playfully pushes you toward the bathroom mirror, smirking proudly when he catches your initial reaction.

"Wha'cha think?"

You're in awe. How the hell did he do this?!

"Katsuki...it's perfect!" you exclaim while flipping your hair around to see the subtle dimension of color shifting. "Exactly what I wanted. Thank you!"

He hugs you from behind and leaves a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Ya look gorgeous no matter what," he reminds you as he squeezes you tightly. "But I gotta say, I did a damn good job. Now let's get'ta bed already, I'm beat."

When you wake up the next morning, Bakugo compliments your appearance a multitude of times while the two of you are getting ready for work, reminding you just how beautiful you are to him in any light.

I hope this made you smile! <3

all tags; @kirishimaeijiromyman @strwbrrykthv @slayfics

@maddietries @starieqq @liluvtojineteyam

@jays-adventure3 @simp-plague @napbatata @queenpiranhadon

[writtenfangirl]

Secrets and Good Luck Charms

Plus size!Reader, angsty turning fluffy

Listen, as a plus size woman myself, I know that the chances of an F1 driver being attracted to me is close to 0, especially when they're literally always surrounded by supermodels. But I can live in my delulu era, even for a little while.

I challenged myself to create a fic with top-tier begging and I genuinely hope I accomplished that cause this was so much fun to write.

Enjoy!

Part 2

“Charles, I think we should break up.”

The words left her in a sudden whoosh, ceasing her boyfriend mid-story. His apartment went quiet, and Y/N felt the little hairs on her arms rise but her goosebumps wasn’t from the cold. 

Charles’s luminous green eyes widened.“What?”

A part of her wished she could take the words back, snatch them from the air where they hung heavy like smoke. But she’d been building up her courage all week and she wasn’t about to back down now just because he flashed those beautiful green eyes that Charles knew she could never resist. She said the words slower, kinder. “I think we should break up.”

He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe the words he was hearing. “Why?”

“Because you’re ashamed of me, Cha.”

And there was the truth, the conviction that had Y/N’s resolve strengthening. Charles could deny it all he wants but Y/N knew the truth, deep down. He was ashamed of her. It was a truth that had been sitting in her chest for the better part of 9 months and it was a truth that had begun to eat at her as their relationship progressed. 

He said his next words slowly, like a child struggling to learn new words in a language he wasn’t familiar with. “What would make you say that?” 

She kept her own tone even, betraying none of the hurt that sat heavy in her chest. “Because, Cha. We’ve been together 9 months, close to a year, and yet you have never introduced me to your mother or your brothers. Not even to your friends. No posts on social media, no mention of my existence at all.”

He frowned. “I thought you wanted your privacy.”

“I do want my privacy.”

“Then I don’t understand why you want to end things!” His voice grew in octave and Y/N could see him fighting to keep his calm.

“Because, Cha,” she said, struggling to keep the exasperation from her voice, “you’re ashamed of me. I don’t care that you post me on social media or not. I don’t care if the world knows about us. If you want to keep our relationship out of the public eye, that’s fine. I know you’re doing it to protect my feelings and I appreciate it, I do. But, you refuse to let me meet your friends or your family for that matter. They’re the people that matter to me because they’re the people that matter to you. But I’ve never met them, even after you’ve met mine! And I’m—“ she took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting the hurt that threatened to have tears spilling from her eyes. “I’ve dated enough guys to know when they’re ashamed of me.”

“I am not—“

“Don’t deny it, Cha, please. It hurts even more if you do.”

His mouth snapped shut. There was confusion in his face, and maybe a bit of hurt, but Y/N saw the truth in them too. The shame that coated his eyes like paint.

“I know I’m not conventionally beautiful like your exes.” Y/N said, her words soft. “They’re thin and slender and they’re beautiful. They really are. Models and influencers that I could never compete with and I’m okay with that because you were okay with that. But I see now that you’re not. You don’t like that I’m big, that I have a stomach and huge thighs. You don’t like that I have stretch marks and rolls. And you know what, it’s fine. If you prefer thinner girls, it’s fine. I won’t hold it against you because I know some people just have preferences and it’s okay. But I refuse to ever change myself and hate myself just to fit into a person’s standards. I’ve spent so much of my life being ashamed of my body, I can’t do that anymore, Cha. I love you and you are literally the man of my dreams but I love myself too, and I love myself too much to let someone do this to me.”

“You can’t just leave me. I love you.” Charles rushed the words out as if somehow, his words would stop Y/N.

“I don’t doubt your love for me, Cha. Not one moment. I know you love me. But you don’t take me on dates in public places where people can see us. When we do go out in public, you keep a physical distance between us. You never even so much as look at me unless you have to. I’ve never met a single one of your friends, work related or not. I don’t think you’ve even mentioned to them that you were with someone. Never met Arthur or Lorenzo and I’ve definitely never met Pascale. You love me in secret and that’s not okay.”

He reached for her hand but Y/N pulled away. The hurt that flashed in his eyes made her want to tell him to forget about her confession, forget about what she said so they can return to normal but Y/N knew she couldn’t do that. She owed it to herself to do what was best for her, to love a man who loved her so much he had to shout it from the rooftops. 

“Y/N, please—“

“It’s okay, Charles.” She stood up from where she sat, pushing down her own feelings as Charles looked up at her, disbelief in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Really, no hard feelings. Let’s just forget that this, us, ever happened. I wish you good luck with everything, I really do. I’ll pray to every God that exists that you become a world champion with Ferrari. I’ll always root for you.” 

“Y/N, wait—“

But she fled the apartment before he could say anymore.

And Charles Leclerc is out of the 2023 Belgian Grand Prix! I have to say, Crofty. Leclerc’s string of bad luck and terrible performance has really been a blow to Ferrari’s morale as of late. It really is such a horrible way to end the first half of the season, especially after such an incredible six months! It truly is such a shame. With the way things are going, what was once a tight race for the championship between Verstappen and Leclerc could simply become Verstappen’s third world championship.  Let’s hope the summer break gives him the clarity of mind he needs to get his head back in the game and the championship race back on track. 

Charles wasn’t stupid. He knew why he was losing and it wasn’t his car or his team or their strategies.

His abysmal performance could only be blamed on one person and try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to blame Y/N. 

Because really, the only person to be blamed was himself. 

Because she was right. 

And he hated that she was right. 

He never thought he was the kind of person who was vain or who particularly cared about the opinions of others. He knew what it was like to be scrutinized by the media and while he justified keeping his relationship with her private by believing that Y/N was a private person, he couldn’t justify hiding her from his friends and family. 

It didn’t even really matter to him what she looked like. He loved Y/N, not for her body but for her soul. He was the moth attracted to her bright flame and he would have gladly let himself burn if it meant feeling the heat of her touch on his skin. She was kindness and warmth and compassion all rolled into one person, the kind of person people wished God made more of. 

And he found her beautiful. Yes, she wasn’t thin but he never cared about that before. Y/N was beautiful in his eyes. The kind of beauty meant to be admired in paintings. Her soft, curvaceous body and her sweet face made her beautiful. She may not have fit society’s standards but she fit his and that’s all that mattered. That’s all that should have mattered. 

So why did her words, her accusations, cut him so deep?

Was she right? Was he ashamed of her? 

“Mate, you okay?” 

Carlos’s voice broke him out of his reverie. It wasn’t like Charles to get distracted from the matter at hand, but his mind kept wandering to his girlfriend. Or rather, ex-girlfriend.

“You’ve been distracted.” Max noted. 

It was the summer break, a rare time in their hectic lives when they got a chance to take a breather. One of the drivers, Charles couldn’t remember who but he suspected it was George, had arranged a little get together for them. Alone time on a remote island in the tropics far from the prying eyes of their fans and the media. Not all of the drivers could make it, but those that could brought their girlfriends with them. The irony wasn’t lost on Charles that he was the only single man in an island full of couples. 

It was the kind of outing he would have wanted to include Y/N in but wouldn’t have, choosing instead to stay at home so they could spend some time alone. It never occurred to him if Y/N would have wanted to come. 

“I’m fine,” was his only brusque reply. 

“You don’t seem fine.” Pierre chimed in. 

Charles tried not to scowl. The other drivers were his friends as much as they were his co-workers and competitors. He grew up racing and competing with most of them. Max, George, Alex, Lando and especially Pierre, were constant figures in his life. If there was anyone who could help him, who could understand him, it would be them.

But it was so hard to accept the help when Charles was so… down. 

He looked at his friends, saw the expectant looks on their faces and sighed. 

“My girlfriend broke up with me.” The words left him before he had a chance to think about it. 

His friends’ expectant expressions turned into surprise before shifting to mild curiosity. 

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” Pierre’s frown could only be described as hurt. Not that Charles could blame him. Pierre was his best friend and the first person who supported him when it came to his relationships. The fact that Charles kept his girlfriend a secret probably hurt him more than he let on.

“No one knew,” Charles said reassuringly. “Not my brothers and not maman.”

“So you were only together for a short while,” Carlos guessed. “What’s the big deal?”

Charles couldn’t blame Carlos for assuming that Y/N was only in his life for a while since he never told them she existed but the insinuation hurt all the same.

“We were together close to a year. 9 months actually.”

“That long?” Alex asked, surprised. “Usually you introduce your girlfriends after two months. You kept her a secret for nine months?”

Charles winced. What sort of excuse did he have for keeping her a secret? No flimsy excuse could ever justify what he did. 

“Why did she end things?” Max asked him. 

Dread pooled in Charles’ stomach. What does he even say? He looked at his friends, at their earnest and open expressions. He knew no matter what he says, they won’t judge him. Or at least, not to his face. 

“She ended things because she thinks I’m ashamed of her.“ Charles’ admission tasted like metal in his tongue. 

“Why would you be ashamed of her?” George asked, raising a quizzical brow.

“Because she’s nothing like my exes. She’s not thin or slender, she’s full bodied. I’ve never introduced her to any of you, not even to my family. She thinks I’m embarrassed to be seen next to her.”

“Are you?” Lando asked, judgement ripe on his face. 

“No!” Charles’ defense was quick. “I am not ashamed of her. I never have been! I’m… I’m more ashamed of myself. That I didn’t reassure her. I’m ashamed that I did something that made her feel bad. I hate that I did that to her.”

“Why didn’t you introduce her to us and your family anyway?” Carlos asked this time. 

“Because with her, I feel real. I feel different. A good different. And I know how cruel people can be. I know you might not have judged her and I know if my brothers and maman met her, they would love her. Maman, especially. But if I introduced her to you, then that’s one step closer to introducing her to the world. I was scared she couldn’t take the attention and run.”

“Is she why you’ve been so bad in track lately?” Max asked. 

Charles simply nodded before closing his eyes and rubbing his face in frustration. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Well there’s only one thing you can do,” George said in that tone he uses when he thinks he knows best. “You have to go after her. Go back to her and beg her to take you back.”

“And then what?” Charles snapped, unable to stop himself from voicing out the fear that’s been plaguing his mind, “She’ll still be watched by the media. Y/N is soft and she is kind. I don’t know what I would do if people say bad things about her and I know they will. I’ve dated literal supermodels and people were mean. What more someone like her? If someone insulted her in front of me, I might actually commit assault.”

“Mate, that’s up to her and you to talk about it,” Max said. “You can’t really take the choice away from her. If you love this girl, then be with her. Fuck what other people think.”

“Charles, all that matters to us is that you are happy. If she makes you happy, then we will be happy,” Pierre reassured. “You don’t have to worry about us. This girl doesn’t happen to be an ax-wielding psychopath, right?”

The rest of their group winced at Pierre’s poor attempt at a joke but Charles smiled nonetheless. Trust Pierre to always try his best to lighten the mood. “No, she’s kind of perfect actually. I really love her.”

“Then go to her so you can get your head back in the game and beat Max in the championship,” Carlos urged. 

“I don’t know about beating me,” Max smirked and the topic of their conversation shifted to playful jibes and jokes. But Charles’ mind stayed on Y/N, at his friends encouraging words and before his mind could reconcile what his body was doing, he was already on his feet, heading to one of the yachts moored on the island. 

“Where are you going?” Pierre called out as he ran from his friends, towards the woman he loved. 

Charles answered, his mind racing as fast as his heart. “To get my girl!”

When Y/N heard the frantic knocking on her apartment door at 1AM, she expected the worst. 

Which of her family had died? Which of her friends was laying in a ditch somewhere with their car wrapped around a tree? What was the tragedy so urgent, so horrific, that it couldn’t wait until the next day and had to knock on her door at 1AM in the morning?

But when she opened the door, all she saw was Charles, eyes wide and frantic. 

“Cha?” Y/N asked, not quote believing her bleary eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he grabbed her face, bringing his mouth on hers in a searing kiss that had Y/N’s eyes shuttering close and her breath leaving her lungs. 

She tasted the salt of his sweat, felt the searing heat of his hands on her skin as his tongue swept across her mouth, kissing her as if he was underwater and she was the siren able to grant him his oxygen. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her heart deciding what her mind already knew but refused to believe. 

She had missed him, wholeheartedly. And she knew that if Charles ever came knocking back, her self restraint would crumble like chalk on pavement. She would accept him, consequences be damned. 

“I’m sorry,” he panted when she pulled away, her mind racing. “I’m so sorry.”

“Charles, I don’t understand. What are you doing here? I thought you were—“

“It doesn’t matter where I was,” he insisted, his grip on her tightening, like he was afraid that letting go would cause her to disappear. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough. Cherie, tu es belle. Je suis vraiment désolé. Je n'ai jamais eu l'intention de te blesser.”

“Charles, slow down,” Y/N urged, pulling him into her tiny apartment and closing the door behind her. Her french was rudimentary at best and with how fast he was talking, she was struggling to translate what he said. “You’re speaking in French. I don’t understand.”

“You are beautiful.” He blurted, stopping Y/N in her tracks. “You’re the most beautiful woman I know. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you but I did anyway and I hate that I hurt you. I’m not ashamed of you but I am ashamed of how I acted. Forgive me, cherie, please. Please take me back.”

“Charles—“ Her phone trilled from where it was charging in her living room and Y/N pulled away from Charles it, ignoring her best friend's flashing face and clicking the red button to silence it.

“You deserve better than me, I know,” he continued, “and I know I don’t deserve you. But I will do everything I can to at least be deserving of your forgiveness. Please, Y/N. Say you forgive me.”.

“Charles—“ her phone rang again and with a growl of frustration, Y/N grabbed it, answering it upon seeing her best friend’s face flashing. “Y/BFF/N, I can’t talk right now. I'm in the middle of—“

“Did you see?” Y/BFF/N said frantically on the other end, causing Y/N to frown. “Tell me you saw it!”

She sent Charles an apologetic look as she answered. “Saw what?”

“Check Charles’ instagram! And I mean, right the fuck now! Call me back when you do.” And she hung up. 

Y/N glanced at Charles before following her best friend’s instructions, opening up the app and searching for Charles’ account. When she saw her picture on the first square, Y/N’s eyes snapped to Charles. 

“You told your friends about us,” Y/N said, stunned.

“I told the world about us,” he clarified. “I never told anyone because I was selfish. I am not ashamed of you. I never have been, never will be. I was scared because introducing you to my family and my friends means that you’re one step closer to being known to the world and I was scared you would run from all of it. From the fame, from the mean comments. It’s happened before and I didn’t want it to happen again, especially not to you. I’m not naive. If people can be mean and ruthless to girls who look like Charlotte and Alexandra, what more you? I thought I was protecting you. I don’t ever want you to leave. Please, come back to me.“

“I can’t believe you told everyone about us.” Y/N still sounded dumbfounded, even to her own ears. 

Charles gave her watery smile. “People should know about you and the love I have for you.”

Y/N wasn't entirely sure what it is about Charles that could have her melting into a puddle on the floor. She's been with good looking men before and none of them ever had that effect on her. But his confession, his conviction, had her abandoning her phone's incessant notifications, her arms automatically wrapping around Charles' neck, pulling him to her. His hands rested on her waist, ghosting down her back.

And, despite herself, Y/N felt her lips pulling into a soft smile. “You know, when I went to bed a while ago, I wasn’t expecting to see my ex knocking at my door, begging me to take him back at one in the morning. Especially since I know he’s suppose to be somewhere in the tropics on vacation.“ 

“Begging?” Charles raised a brow, almost in challenge, a small smile playing at his lips. Mirth and hope mixed in his green eyes and Y/N knew that there was never any chance she couldn’t accept his apology. 

She nodded, her smile turned teasing. “Oh, yeah, definitely begging. Groveling at my feet, asking for forgiveness. Never seen anything like it, to be honest. You know, some girls have a thing for that and I never really understood it before but now, I kinda do. I might not forgive him just so I can listen to him beg again.” 

“You are a cruel woman,” Charles said as he pulled her closer to him, his hands warm on her waist, his nose barely touching her own as his breath tickled her mouth.

“Is that what you’d call the woman willing to forgive you?” She batted her eyes, feigning innocence. “Even after she knows you’re only begging for forgiveness because of your losing streak? You did always call me your good luck charm.”

“You are my good luck charm.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in those things?”

“When it comes to you, I’ll believe in anything and anyone,” he said seriously before he grinned, wide and infectious. The kind of grin that promised an evening of debauchery and laughter. “So you forgive me?”

“Well, you did tell the world that I was your girlfriend so now I have to forgive you and take you back. I wouldn’t want to make a liar out of Charles Leclerc.”

He smiled triumphantly and this time, when Charles dipped his head for another searing kiss, Y/N didn’t pull away.

[thecinderninja]

Human Hands

wrote this for Venti Day :3 On Ao3 as The_Cinderninja

.

Venti signed up for utterly none of this.

It was a single wisp among thousands.

It was not meant to be noticed.

Neither seen nor heard, nor befriending humans, nor overthrowing gods.

It was most certainly not meant to see Celestia, nor be seen by them.

There was no timeline in which it was ever meant to be given divine authority.

It was a wisp. A single wisp among thousands. It had the strength of a warm breeze, and it was not meant to witness the power of the gods, it was not meant to hold it.

It felt a power even greater than the thousand winds tearing it apart. It was nothing. Soon, it would be less than nothing. 

It couldn’t do this.

You can

It doesn’t want to do this. This power is torment. Hasn’t it endured enough already? More than any wisp should.

You’re already more than a wisp.

But it doesn’t want to be.

The gnosis is too much for a wisp to handle. One wind containing thousands? It can’t be done.

You must become something stronger. Pass or fail this test, the outcome doesn’t matter to us.

Pass and become the first Anemo Archon, fail and cease to exist.

It doesn’t want to die.

(It didn’t know what that meant, before. It does now).

It was afraid, it was hurting, and it was filled with more power than it could comprehend - tearing it apart from the inside. It closes its eyes and becomes something stronger. It doesn’t think, just frantically grasps at ideals.

.

It wakes in an alien form in an alien world with a destructive ache in its chest. It hurts. It's laying in ruins, staring up at a tower. The dirt beneath it is frozen and icy, and the sky is falling.

Snow.

It knows this place, but it has never seen it so covered in white, before.

It grips its chest with human hands. The pain won’t fade. It feels like it’s dying. Hasn’t he already died?   It closes its human eyes against the storm and wallows in this new form of misery.

Too many terrible things have happened recently for one wisp to endure.

But it's become something more than a wisp, and where the storm would normally whisk it away, it remains solid, limp, pressed on the ground. Core burning with power, body weak and new, but also stronger than he's ever been before.

It’s mind is breaking. It must be. It has too many memories, too many feelings , too much life inside of it. 

It can’t stay here forever.

Eventually, eventually , it rises on shaking legs. Trembling like a newborn fawn. It’s never had human legs before, but somehow, he knows how to use them. He stumbles, awkward and aching. It has never felt cold before, but seeing his exposed skin, he knows he should . He knows the cold should be dangerous. But it doesn’t hurt. It feels warm, alive . It feels the heat of human blood circulating beneath its human skin. 

The world is larger and smaller and overwhelming.

Mondstadt is gone. 

The city isn’t gone. It’s still here, surrounding him like a hollowed out ribcage. The empty skeleton of what he remembers. The people are gone, and he’s terrified. It stumbles forward and falls over. It’s heavy, clumsy, tall, trapped in an earthly body it doesn’t feel fully connected to.

It takes him a long time to learn to stand, learn to walk, and drag itself from the city. Yelling and calling for his friends, for anyone.

It only wanted to help.

Now everyone is gone.

Everything ended… horribly. Is it his fault? Would everyone have been safe if they’d stayed within Decarabian’s storm walls? If he hadn’t fought back? 

It’s alone, and everyone is gone.

It stumbles through the woods, wishing it could return to a wisp and float away, but there’s a weight in its chest tethering it to so many places at once, thrumming like a heartbeat it's heard but never had before.

Thrumming like the heartbeat that stopped.

It stumbles barefoot through the snow. No destination, the beat in its chest pulling it forward. The sky is still falling, the wind whips around it. A part of, but separate from. They are no longer the same . He is something less than he was now, and something more.

It collapses at the edge of a frozen river, needing to breathe.

Does it need to breathe? It has never needed to before. It was the air filling lungs, not the lungs needing air.

It tips forward and sees, for the first time, its reflection.

It does not realize at first, and reaches out. 

It reaches out and its reflection does the same. It sees his face. It touches his hair with his hands, and its reflection does the same. 

Its reflection is crying.

.

It is curled up by the river when they find it. Just a scouting party, searching for food. Not prepared for this.

A little god in a human body. The boy who led a rebellion and died for the sake of freedom, ascended to godhood. Looking entirely the same, save for the absolute, undeniable divinity wafting off of him. The way his braids glow and shift in a gentle breeze despite the blizzard. The way he sleeps by the river, divine tears on his face, in bare feet, bare arms, bordering on bare everything . The way his skin is littered in tattoos that glow with divine light.

The feathered wings that stretch out behind him.

He always had been fascinated by birds.

They all saw him die. 

They stand in silence, freezing in the storm, as they stare, wondering what to do with this new god. Their new god, if they’re to jump to obvious conclusions.

The cold settles in their bones and makes their decision for them - they can’t stand around much longer. They’re searching for food , not a god, and they need to get back to the encampment.

One of the braver souls approaches, gets to his knees, and shakes the boy by his shoulders. Gently.

“B-Barbatos…?” He speaks, voice an uncertain whisper.

But the boys eyes flutter at the name, hazy and disoriented, before snapping open. He sits up ramrod straight, nearly knocking the other man over, and turns his head left, right, wild-eyed, before stillness settles back into him, his face falls, and his eyes slowly rise to meet the mans.

His eyes are brighter than is natural, more green than blue, and shine with a frightening intensity. It is abundantly clear that whatever this thing in front of him is, it isn’t human. Or… it isn’t human any longer.

Eyebrows furrow, eyes widen, recognition crosses its features.

“L… Leon?” The boy’s voice is the same. It’s the voice that has always belonged to Barbatos, and he recognizes Leon, and Leon sags in relief. However much they may distrust the gods, they do trust the boy. Fear bleeds from his body as his grip on the boy’s shoulders strengthens, and he helps him sit up.

He seems awkward in his body, movements stiff and jerky.

“Barbatos…” Leon breathes out slowly. “You’re alive.”

The boy is silent, face twisting through every shade of alarm, disbelief, confusion and grief that a human can experience. “What…. No… I’m not-...” 

The rest of the scouts are shivering badly by now. Leon’s hands are shaking. “Come on… you may not be cold-” (he hopes this is true. If the little god can feel the cold, then he must be completely miserable, as exposed as he is. But he isn’t showing any kind of discomfort) “- but we do. We’ve been out far longer than we expected. We need to get back to the encampment.”

“Encampment?” The boy asks, stumbling over the word. His voice is the same, but he speaks with a strange accent - not so much an accent as… his mouth struggles to find the correct shapes for the sounds he's trying to make.

“Yes, of course. It’s too cold for us to remain here. We’ve been travelling down the mountain, looking for some way out of this storm… it has to be warmer somewhere…” His voice trails off, unsure. But then he smiles, grips Venti’s elbow, and hauls him to his feet. His smile is genuine, he looks so relieved to see him. 

The others behind him seem less sure. They are nervous and murmuring between themselves. Venti can hear every word. They are suspicious of him, confused, but hopeful. 

They think he is Barbatos.

This isn’t what he meant to happen. 

The world is suddenly so very large, and so very small. 

Everything has changed, and he hasn’t been able to make sense of it.

His last sensible moments, the last time the world made sense to him; looking at his friend’s face, knowing they’d won. The clash of steel and smell of blood, the screaming of wind as the storm walls fell only to let the blizzard in.

The pain in his chest - but was that before or after the fall?

Everything becomes unclear after that.

They’re staring at his wings, at his clothing, at his glowing eyes, hair, tattoos. They’re whispering “god” amongst themselves.

One of them whispers; “Was this his plan all along? Overthrow God to take his place?”

Venti can’t take more of this. His face feels hot. A very human noise rips from his chest, and he crumples around himself in Leon’s arms. 

No, this isn’t what I wanted. I just wanted to help. I just wanted everyone to be okay.

I didn’t ask for this.

I don’t understand what’s happening to me.

.

The sight of the boy crying in Leon’s arms is enough to convince them. He may be a god, but he is also still Barbatos. They know this boy, he knows them, and they don’t know what happened in the past few days to turn him from a martyr, a corpse, to a god, but apparently it has not been kind to him.

He is grieving too.

They know his friends will want to see him - and that the only right thing is to bring him back. What is their other choice, to leave him crying here alone in the snow? It’s unthinkable.

To Leon’s surprise, the hardest part of carrying the teenager is figuring out what to do with his… massive, shimmering wings. Despite his size, he weighs nearly nothing.

To say their return causes a commotion would be a dramatic understatement.

Is that-?

I thought he was-

A god? How could he do this to us?

At least he’s okay…

He can hear everything . They love him, they hate him, they don’t even know him.

It doesn’t take long for Gunnhildr to find them, rushing out of the command tent with wide eyes, mouth open in a small ‘o’ as she takes in the situation. She doesn’t hesitate to reach out, pulling him from Leon’s arms into her own.

“What happened?” She demands.

“It would seem our bard has Ascended.”

That is not an adequate answer.

“Truly, we don’t know. We found him… like this . By the frozen stream. It looked like he was trying to leave Mond and collapsed where he stood. He… he knew us. For what its worth, we really do think it’s him.”

“We’ll see.” She says grimly, carrying him away from the blatant gazes and staring eyes. Into the command tent, she sits him on a bare cot.

He hunches over, hands trembling at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. His eyes are the opposite of hollow - they’re too full. Darting around, taking in everything at once. 

“You’re alive.” He murmurs, almost sobbing on his own words, swallowing convulsively. His face twists and he chokes. “You’re alive. Who else- is everyone-”

She sits beside him, takes his hand. It feels right, but wrong. She tells him everything. Who lived, who died, who’s taken the lead in the sudden power vacuum, who has left.

“We weren’t expecting you to come back.” She says. We thought you were dead. You were dead. We watched you die.

“We weren’t expecting another god.” She says. We don’t want one .

“I didn’t want to be a god.” He answers. “They took me, they changed me. I don’t know what they did. It hurt.”

She exhales slowly. “What do you want?”

“I want them to be free.” The answer comes easy. “I want them to live. We need to find… a new home. Somewhere safe, warm. I need to find a way to stop the storm.”

He must have said something right, 

Or something terribly wrong,

Because she too believes he’s Barbatos.

.

They accept him as their god. 

He insists that he does not want this! He doesn’t want to be the god of anyone, or anything. Mondstadt does not need a god. And it should not be him!

And the people smile, and say yes, that’s our Barbatos.

(He knows that he isn’t, but when he tries to tell them, he loses his voice).

So he settles for; “You don’t need a new god.”

And they answer with; “But we want one.”

They hadn't. The last thing they had wanted was a new god. Until it was him. And then, suddenly, it made sense to them.

Their bard. Their orphan Barbatos. They say it takes a village, and there was a boy who belonged to all of Mond. Friend to all, raised by the city, and returned the favour by buying their freedom with his life.

When it was him , it made sense.

He was Mondstadt's child.

They want him. There’s a reason he was chosen, after all. He fought for their freedom. He fought for all of them. He died for them. He doesn’t want this power, and that’s why he deserves it.

Decarabian was a tyrant - the one thing Barbatos could never be.

He could never abuse them. He loves them so much that he came back for them.

I didn’t… he didn’t…

He is a god, whether he wants to be or not.

He has a power in his chest, he might as well use it. He meets the Wolf of the North, and puts an end to the storm.

He creates an island and founds a city. Not so very long ago, he was nothing more substantial that a warm breeze. 

Now he cuts mountains in half.

They build him a statue, and he breaks when he sees it.

He sits in the open palms of the familiar hands. He holds his own in front of his face, staring, wondering what he is.

He has human blood in his veins. His hands are pale but warm. His bones are hollow. He weighs less than a human and more than the wind. 

He is more and less than he was before.

He cries hot human tears as he looks up at his own face.

It’s Gunnhilder who finds him, kneeling in the open hands reaching towards the stone face. 

She watches him sitting in the statue’s palms, wiping tears from his eyes, and understands what he’s been trying to say all along.

He isn’t Barbatos.

He is helping in every way he can. He throws himself with gusto into whatever job needs to be done - building houses, bridges, sowing fields, foraging for food. Their settlement grows into a village grows into a city. Someday, it will grow into a nation.

She finds him at the base of the statue, hands fluttering, searching for something to do.

She stands beside him and hands him a lyre. She watches as his grip trembles, grasping at it strangely, and his eyes meet hers.

“Why?”

“Yours was broken. Your hands have been restless since you were brought back.” She watches him for a moment, silent. “Can you play it?”

“... I don’t know.” He admits. His hands adjust themselves. They want to play. He’s never touched one - he’s never had hands like these before. But the shape is familiar, and his hands move like they were made for this. A tune takes shape beneath his fingers - one he’s heard, but never played. 

One he’s played a hundred times, the first one he wrote. He would never forget it.

She watches, an odd look in her eyes. 

She’s one of the only ones left who ever knew his name; who ever heard what the bard called him.

“Venti.”

It’s the first time he’s heard that name since the bard died.

He looks up and their eyes meet.

She sees him.

… But that’s still not right.

He looks at the lyre in his hands. He thinks about how much he’s changed lately, how much feels strange, and how much feels familiar. 

He thinks he understands now.

He isn't Barbatos. But he's not wholly Venti anymore either…

Less than their selves and greater than the sum of their parts.

They're something entirely new, now, aren't they?

[aughby]

Spike War

When the women's volleyball team finished up their practice, the gym was humming with excitement. You were practicing for the next match. Your spikes are strong and sharp. You were on fire. Your heart rate always spikes when the game gets intense, and that was also the case today.

The ball made contact with your hand at precisely the right angle as you jumped into the air, hoping for a perfect spike. As it rocketed across the court, it moved faster than you had ever seen it. However, it struck someone or something rather than the ground with a pleasant thump.

"Aww!" From the other side of the gym came a startled yelp.

Your eyes widened in terror as you looked over after landing. And there was none other than the star player of the men's volleyball team, Ran Takahashi, gripping his face with a mixture of shock and pain.

"Oh, my gosh, I apologize!" You hurried over to him after blurting out. "Are you alright?"

Ran's hands slowly descended to reveal an area on his face that was starting to get reddish. His normally calm demeanor gave way to one of utter bewilderment. "Did you just give me a facial spike?" he questioned, skeptical.

Biting your lip, you tried not to giggle. "Oh, yeah? I didn't mean to, though!"

There was a glint of glee in his eyes as he glared at you. "I'll give you that—you have a really good spike. Maybe try aiming for the floor instead of my face the next time."

"Maybe I wouldn't have hit you if you weren't positioned in the center of the court like a huge target!" With your arms crossed, you fired back.

With a smirk drawing at the corner of his mouth, Ran lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, so I'm at fault now, huh?"

Indeed! You spoke, sounding a little defensive. "Anyway, who gave you the order to stand there?"

With a playful tone, Ran said, "It's a volleyball court." "Most people stand on it."

You narrowed your eyes. "Yeah, well, most people don't get spiked in the face either."

Ran was about to respond when the other members of the women's team began to gather, with a few male team members also coming in. They were all grinning and laughing as they watched the interaction, having all observed the "incident."

"Are you two fighting?" I ask you. One of your teammates made fun of you.

Another person added, "Looks like love at first spike to me," which caused the others to start laughing.

"Love? With this guy? Not at all! You objected, but you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

Ran rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Please, as if someone with such terrible aim would win my heart."

"Terrible aim? That spike was great! You simply blocked my path! You shot back, pitching your voice up a little.

Your teammates' taunting got much more intense. Someone exclaimed, "You two are like an old married couple already," and other people began to laugh.

You both turned to glare at the group, Ran included. "We're not! You both let out a loud yell, and as you realized you had uttered the same thing at the same moment, you turned to face one another.

Everyone started laughing even more at that realization, and you found yourself grinning in spite of yourself.

Seeing this, Ran laughed and shook his head. "All right, cease fire. But really, for that spike, you owe me one."

You gave a lighthearted roll of your eyes. "OK, after practice, I'll get you a drink. But not because I like you or anything; just because it makes me feel horrible."

"Yes, of course," Ran answered with a smile once more. "I'm not going to let you live this down, though, just so you know. You are now formally my opponent in volleyball."

You grinned and replied, "Bring it on, Takahashi." "I have no problem with a little rivalry."

The friendly rivalry between you and Ran only intensified as a result of the humorous banter that soon spread among your teammates.

A few days later, you happened to spot Ran and a few men's team players observing from the sidelines during a friendly match. They created a little extra strain, even if you were trying to concentrate on the game. Especially in light of the entire "spike incident," you felt the need to brag a little.

With both sides in dead heat, the game was fierce. You took advantage of a chance to spike a game-winning play. You jumped higher than typical in an attempt to get the ideal shot. However, your foot twisted awkwardly when you landed, and your ankle started to hurt badly.

You collapsed to the ground, clenching your ankle due to excruciating pain. As soon as the game halted, your teammates ran to you. You saw Ran pushing through the crowd through the mist of pain.

"Are you alright?" With concern in his voice, Ran asked the question.

You tried to say, "I'm fine," but your voice faltered, showing how much pain you were in.

Without saying anything further, Ran kneeled down and took you into his arms. He ignored your lame objections and declared, "I'm taking you to the clinic."

There was an awkward silence on the walk to the clinic, partially because of your ankle pain and partly because you were very aware of Ran's closeness. He was serious about getting you there as soon as possible; his normal playful manner had given way to genuine worry.

The nurse at the clinic examined you right away and determined that you had a slight sprain that would heal with rest and icing. Ran remained at your side, his face grave, as the nurse wrapped your foot.

You muttered, a little ashamed, "You really didn't have to carry me."

Ran gave a shrug. "I refused to allow you to hobble all the way to this point. Besides, with whom am I arguing if you're not in commission?"

Wincing when the nurse tightened the bandage, you let out a faint giggle. "Oh, so you brought me here out of personal gain?"

With a sly smile, Ran said, "Pretty much," and the lighthearted conversation resumed. "It can't last too long for my favorite rival to be injured."

Even if you rolled your eyes, you had to smile. "Many thanks, Ran. Really."

His gaze softened as he turned to face you. "At any moment."

Ran assisted you in limping back to the gym as you left the clinic, but you couldn't get rid of the impression that your supposed rivalry had changed. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to this than friendly banter.

You were happy enough to deal with the playful conversation for the time being; however, it did result in the odd twisted ankle.

[tamurilofrivendell]

The Dragon | part 2 | Thranduil x Reader

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Three} {Part Four} read on AO3

A/N: the first part was meant to be it but I honestly couldn’t stop myself writing more beause I got attached so here we are… there will be a couple more where they can finally work shit out.

Pairing: Thranduil x Female Reader

Summary: All discussions of what to do with the dragon have not gone well and as time passes Thranduil’s frustration only seems to grow.

Content etc: Angst. Brief violence? Assumed unrequited feelings. Tiniest bit of fluff.

tags: @firelightinferno​​, @achromaticerebus​​, @coopsgirl​​, @birbixo0912​​, @desert-fern​​​, @ancient-rime​​, @captainchrisstan​

You and Thranduil had found yourselves very unable to come to any sort of conclusion after he had released you from the dungeon without killing your dragon. You had argued, quite horribly, and you had both said some things that you perhaps hadn’t meant. Thranduil had thrown you out and ordered you to stay within the confines of your chamber and under no circumstances were you or Aegnor allowed to leave it. A guard was posted outside and food was delivered right to your door. You supposed it was better than still being locked down  in the dungeon as though you were nothing but an orc.

Thranduil did not come to see you for the first three days, his anger so high that he was afraid of what he might do. Though he knew now that he did not have it in him to hurt you, he still felt as though you had betrayed him rather severely, and having no real way to resolve it was only making him angrier. After three days he found that he had calmed enough to start paying you visits… but the king would not pass the threshold. He always stayed in the doorway, not daring to set foot inside as he might have done in the past.

However, his patience was continuing to grow thinner by the day. That… thing was still small right now but it would grow larger every day. In his long life, he had read many books about the fire-breathing lizards of the north. The first few months after hatching they stayed very small but after that their growth and advancement was fairly rapid. In three weeks it will have grown to the size of a young wolf. Thranduil predicted that in three more it would be the size of a small pony. His fear was spiking once more and he was seriously struggling to come to terms with the fact that he was even allowing this creature to stay here. Those who knew about it had also been shocked, though they had the sense not to voice it to him. Thranduil barely slept or even rested, always listening, always waiting, preparing for the day he’d inevitably have to face the fire once more for his people.

He did not tell you any of this. He probably would have in the past but now he could not. This had caused a rift between you both that he was not entirely certain he could repair, a fact which pained him more than he could find words for. Should he even want to repair it? You had concealed this terrible thing from him, committed treason, pushed him well past his limits… and you had not yet even apologised for any of it.

He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed but his fingertips were ghosting over the hilt of his sword. Ready, if need be, to strike.

Aegnor was curled up on your lap. You were running your fingers over his scales but your eyes were on Thranduil.

“Will you not come in?” You asked him, though you already knew the answer.

Thranduil shook his head, his eyes flickering between you and Aegnor. The dragon did not look ready to launch an attack - indeed, it could not yet even breathe fire - yet Thranduil simply could not relax. It was driving him insane.

You lowered your gaze, looking at Aegnor with eyes full of sorrow. He would soon enough be too big to stay here, you knew this. All talk of what to do about it had ceased. You did not know what to do. Thranduil did not know what to do. He had told you that he did not feel comfortable simply letting the dragon loose and walking away. You knew that, truthfully, Thranduil did not feel comfortable allowing the creature to live at all.

You could see no way around it but you knew that you would not let him hurt Aegnor. You had become far too attached to the animal. Thranduil would have to kill you first. You both knew it. Though only he knew that he wouldn’t be able to actually do it. You, on the other hand, were very certain that he would do it (and do it happily) if you so much as set one more toe out of line.

You looked down at Aegnor again and frowned, holding back a sigh. He looked unhappy and you knew why but you had been too afraid to even broach the subject with Thranduil. Still, as you looked at the dragon’s sad little face you sighed and turned your attention back over towards him in the doorway.

“What?” The word left his mouth immediately, his voice practically a growl. He knew you were going to ask him for something. Your forlorn sigh had all but given it away and he knew you too well by now. This fact frustrated him.

You winced a little at his tone and glanced back down at your lap, frowning softly. “It’s just that…” You forced yourself to look back up at Thranduil, to have the decency to meet his gaze. “He needs to go outside.”

Thranduil shifted in the doorway, lifting his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. You didn’t utter a single word as he stood there, breathing in and out very slowly as he did his best to stay calm. When he opened his eyes again, he didn’t look that much calmer to your eyes, but he gestured for you to follow him and turned on his heel, starting off down the hall.

You scrambled to your feet, gathering Aegnor in your arms as you did, and hurried to catch up with Thranduil. You remembered a time when he would have waited and walked beside you down the hallway, sometimes even offering you his arm. You supposed those days were long over but in the back of your mind you told yourself this was still better than nothing.

“Hide it.” He ordered over his shoulder, not bothering to look at you. That was the way you viewed it, at least, but in truth he simply did not dare. He was absolutely fuming, you could practically feel it radiating from him in thick waves.

Carefully, you tucked Aegnor away into your cloak, shushing him when he croaked in frustration. Thranduil did swing his head around then, gaze burning into your cloak like he was a warg ready to go in for the kill and the intensity of his glare actually caused you to stop moving, briefly wondering if you were about to have to make another run for it.

After an uncomfortably long moment, Thranduil turned and continued walking as if nothing had happened, but his strides were quicker and you ended up trailing too far behind him. He waited impatiently for you to follow him through to his chambers, though it made his skin crawl. He had already had the thing in here of course, while you were both attempting to negotiate some sort of solution, and he had hated it just as much then but he wasn’t allowing you outside of these halls and he didn’t want to risk a public outdoor area where just anybody could see. The entire realm did not yet know and he would rather not cause a complete panic… or bring about questions regarding his leadership. It was bad enough he was questioning himself, he didn’t need the entirety of his people to do it too.

He ushered you through to one of his gardens, gesturing for you to go out of the door. Again, he stayed in the entryway looking out, his hand hovering close to his sword.

Your heart was heavy as you looked away from Thranduil and started walking further into the garden. Aegnor crawled out from inside your cloak and made his way up the front of your body, using his little claws to climb his way up your cloak to your shoulder, where he made himself comfortable and looked around at his new surroundings.

Thranduil tensed in the doorway as he watched the dragon settle itself upon your shoulder. Despite everything, he still felt very protective of you. Maybe even more so. Much to his frustration.

He watched but nothing bad happened, just like all the other times he’d expected the dragon to bite or suddenly find its breath and start exhaling fire everywhere. He hadn’t so much as seen a flicker of a flame but he knew it would not be much longer. Every time he thought of it, an ice cold wave of dread descended upon him and he felt like he was drowning in it. Ever since he had found out about you and the dragon, he had felt like he was drowning and Thranduil did not know how to find his way back to the surface.

You moved to sit down on one of the benches and reached up to gently pet Aegnor on the snout. “Go on then…” You said softly, turning your head so you could see him. “Go and play.” You weren’t sure when he would next be afforded this opportunity so you wanted him to make the most of it.

Aegnor paused only a moment, looking from you back to Thranduil over by the door. He eyed the king carefully before he moved, hopping down and loping across the grass where he settled by a flowerbed and started to properly explore.

You watched him, deciding not to look at Thranduil. You would likely only see anger or derision and you were tired of seeing it. You missed the tenderness, the friendship.

Thranduil stood where he was for a long while. He intended to keep an eye on the dragon but his attention kept getting pulled in your direction. You looked so downcast and dejected and, despite himself, he wished he could make it go away.

Surprising himself, he took a step forward and then another, his legs leading him along the path towards you. He hovered only a brief moment, unsure, before he sat down on the bench beside you.

Neither of you spoke for a moment. He was looking at you, you could feel it, but you didn’t turn your head. You kept your gaze on Aegnor who had turned to look at you, afraid for a moment that Thranduil was going to hurt you. You raised your hand and gestured for him to continue looking around. Aegnor hesitated for a minute but then he moved again, trampling across the grass as he found a bird to chase.

“What was that?” The Elvenking asked.

The sudden sound of his voice made you jump a little but you did finally turn to look at him. “He doesn’t trust you. He believes you could hurt me.”

Thranduil scoffed, narrowing his gaze across the garden. “The feeling is mutual.”

You sighed, shaking your head as you looked away again but you should have known it wouldn’t be ignored.

“What?” His voice had that dangerous bite to it again.

“Nothing.”

Thranduil barked a laugh but it was anything but warm. “Well, do not suddenly act shy now. Say what it is you want to say.”

“I would not wish to insult you, my king.” You quipped, the words spilling from your mouth before you could stop them.

Thranduil’s expression darkened. “I’m afraid we are well past that by now, little one.”

You wished he would stop calling you that. Where the nickname used to be an endearment (and feel as such) it had taken on a tone that made you want to cry, and it felt like he now only used it as a weapon with which to stab you.

Lowering your head, you let your hair fall across your face so that he could not see the tears beginning to gather in your eyes. You didn’t answer him, even as you wondered if not answering would just make him more frustrated with you. You didn’t know what to say anymore.

Thranduil, too, went silent. He was looking at you again, not the dragon, and he felt horrible. He longed for the days back when he would be spending his time making you laugh instead of cry.

He turned his attention back to the garden and suddenly jumped up from the bench. “Where is it?!” He demanded, his fingers closing around the hilt of his sword and pulling it from it’s sheath.

Your head snapped up, not caring anymore if he saw your tears, and you too leapt from the bench. You grabbed hold of his arm without thinking, pulling at him. “Thranduil! Thranduil, wait! Please, wait!”

He turned to look at you, eyes wild with the look of a madman ready to kill whatever got in his way. Thranduil blinked as he looked back at you and you felt the muscles in his arm relax the most miniscule amount. “Where is it?’ He asked again, and this time you could hear the slightest hint of fear as he did.

You frowned softly up at him, wishing you could somehow put him at ease. However, you knew that as long as Aegnor was here, you could not. Your fingers squeezed his arm gently in some small attempt to be reassuring. "He will not have gone far. I will find him. Please just… put the sword down, it scares him.”

There was a brief sort of stand off during which the two of you just stood staring back at each other, as if both waiting for the other to yield in some way. Eventually, Thranduil took a step back, gently shaking you off him. Your touch was still something he could not deal with for a length of time. He did not sheath his sword but he did drop it, holding it down at his side, the tip pointing to the ground.

That would have to do.

Slowly, you broke eye contact with him and turned to survey the garden. It was quiet and still now and you had the slightest hint of worry taking hold of you as you started to move across the grass. “Aegnor!” You called softly, hoping that he would come out quickly. You weren’t sure if Thranduil would stay as he was for very long. “Aegnor, come on out… it’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Somewhere behind you, you heard Thranduil scoff again, but you ignored it.

Moving over to the fountain in the corner, you suddenly came upon a sight that made you laugh out loud. “Come and see this!” You called to Thranduil before you could help yourself.

Thranduil stayed very still for a very long moment before he forced his legs to move, walking towards you in quick strides. He peered over your shoulder with mild curiosity.

There, beneath the deep water of the fountain, Aegnor was swimming in laps.

Thranduil’s frowned softly as he took in the sight. He stepped closer without really meaning to, his hands coming to rest upon the stone edge of the fountain.

It was a slightly bizarre sight simply because of the kind of creature that Aegnor was. Water was no friend to fire. However, it was a little more than that that had captured Thranduil’s attention. It was just such a normal thing for the baby dragon to be doing and he looked to be enjoying it so much, taking such great joy in it, that it threw Thranduil for a moment. Much as you telling him that Aegnor had been afraid of him that first time had done.

He had expected to find the creature plotting or scheming some sort of escape or attack in some dark corner of the garden. Instead, he found it… playing.

You had dropped to your knees beside him, leaning against the fountain as you watched, laughing softly. Thranduil turned his head to look at you, watching you with the same soft frown on his face.

A few more laps and then Aegnor popped his head back up out of the water, splashing you a little, drawing another laugh from you. This one was louder, brighter and Thranduil even felt himself soften just slightly as he looked at you. It was clear this animal brought you a great deal of joy… he just wished it was a raven or something.

His attention moved back to the dragon, who had its front legs up against the side of the fountain, regarding the both of you with a curiously tilted head. Then he shook himself, water droplets landing on your hair and Thranduil’s cloak. You reached out for Aegnor, petting his scales in the way you knew he liked, giggling as he nuzzled your hand back, a soft sound coming from the back of his throat. Thranduil shifted a little beside you as he always did when Aegnor made a noise but he did not move away. Aegnor jumped up onto the side of the fountain then, wriggling his wings a little before he drew them back against his body and sat down in front of you, enjoying your continued attentions.

Thranduil was quiet for a long time and you wondered if he was about to explode again. You could have burst with shock yourself when you watched the king’s hand tentatively, hesitantly, reach out towards Aegnor, gracing him with just the briefest touch of his fingertips before he quickly withdrew his hand and turned on his heel.

“Playtime is over.”

───────────────────────────────────

Thranduil allowed Aegnor into the garden most days after that, though once again he took to lingering over by the door, keeping silent watch. It felt, to you, like five steps backwards and it made you a little unhappy but you were grateful he was even letting Aegnor up here.

Thranduil was angry at himself for his slip in actually touching the dragon like he had. He wasn’t even sure what had brought it on, what had possessed him. Something about you laughing and regarding the dragon with such joy, perhaps, had caused it to overcome him for a moment. He couldn’t really make any sense of it.

Aegnor seemed not to notice the tension anymore as he happily played in Thranduil’s garden. He swam in the fountain, chased birds and butterflies that flew in to escape the darkness of the forest outside, seemed enamoured with certain types of plants and flowers, and began to learn how to fly.

This latter point was yet another source of contention between you and Thranduil.

The first time Aegnor did it, he had just gotten out of the fountain. He’d shook himself off and then moved to hop down from the side. Instead of landing on the grass as usual, you’d watched him glide all the way from the fountain to the bench where you were waiting for him. He was very low to the ground and it hadn’t been the longest distance but you were overjoyed as you gathered him up from where he landed at your feet and praised him. Aegnor had seemed happy at your excitement, perhaps even a little proud of himself.

When you’d looked up at Thranduil, however, he had a dark look on his face and was pinning Aegnor with a sour glare.

After he’d walked you back to your room, you’d gently pushed Aegnor inside first and then turned to look up at him before he could close you in.

“What was that look out there for this time?” You’d asked, too curious and - honestly - upset to hold your tongue.

Thranduil had stared down his nose at you with a frown. “It can fly.”

You glanced over your shoulder to where Aegnor had gone over to his nest of pillows in the corner beside your bed, and curled up with his eyes closed.

“Dragons fly…” You said as you turned back to Thranduil, blinking up at him.

His gaze had followed yours over to Aegnor but at your words his attention flickered back to your face. His frown returned. “I know dragons fly.” He muttered, shaking his head at you. “If he is flying, it will not be long before he can breathe fire.” Thranduil continued, though it didn’t escape your notice that he had referred to Aegnor as he again instead of it. “He cannot stay much longer.”

Before you could respond, he turned around and left, quick footsteps carrying him away down the hall. He did not miss, however, the crestfallen look on your face as he did so.

───────────────────────────────────

The next few times Aegnor sailed through the air across the garden, Thranduil didn’t say anything. In fact, he hadn’t spoken a word for the last few visits to the garden. His silence was both agonising and anxiety-inducing. You didn’t know where his mind was. Nowhere good, you assumed, but still you wished you were able to take a peek at his thoughts.

Thranduil was still scared out of his mind. He was still barely rested and, just that morning, Feren had walked in on him five wines down and near tears brought on by pure fear, as his mind flooded him with images of both the past and of the possible future if he allowed this dragon to stay much longer. Feren had implored him to tell you what he was feeling but Thranduil had refused. He couldn’t. He no longer wished to be vulnerable with you. Not after what you had done. Not after how you had betrayed him and… completely broken his heart. Truthfully, it was not that he didn’t wish to be vulnerable with you. He wished it very much. He wished things could go back to the way they had been, before the dragon. However, he refused to put himself in such a position.

He stood this day, as usual, in the doorway. Watching the dragon. Watching you. Quietly trying to decide what he should do about this entire situation. He wanted the dragon gone. He needed it gone. In all honesty, he was sorely regretting his decision not to just destroy the beast when he’d had the chance, when he’d first intended. The longer he had allowed this little indulgence to continue, the more attached he had watched you become. Now, he found himself unable to just make a decision.

Kill the dragon, lose you for good.

Allow the dragon to live, put his entire realm in danger. Possibly the world.

His skin felt like it was on fire as he stood there, now just staring off into space as his tangled thoughts had gotten the best of him.

When Aegnor seemed to have had all the fun and fresh air he could take and came gliding over to you, you picked him up and stood with a smile, murmuring endearments to him as you turned to walk back over to Thranduil.

You froze the second you lifted your head. “Thranduil…” His name left your lips in a whisper, your breath catching in your throat.

It was only then that Thranduil realised that he was no longer concealing his scars - that he couldn’t - and that the sensation that had been bubbling up inside him was due to this very issue.

He turned his head, letting his hair fall across his face as he started to move back inside. “Take the dragon back to your chamber.” Was the last thing he said to you before he disappeared completely into another room.

When you were finally able to move again, you trailed through the hallways with Aegnor under your cloak and slipped back into your chamber with him. For a long moment, you sat in silence on the edge of your bed. Aegnor could sense your unhappiness, however he was so tired out that he fell asleep in the middle of trying to comfort you. You smiled half-heartedly as you gave him a little kiss and then stood, turning for the door. You threw one glance over your shoulder before you left, thankful for the guard outside being in the middle of swapping with another guard which meant you were able to slip away down the hall unseen.

Your legs carried you back in the direction of Thranduil’s chambers, though you knew it was a bit of a risk. You were aware that he would be angry, furious even. Most of all, you knew he was feeling vulnerable, and you knew just how much he hated that.

Upon reaching his door, however, you hesitated for a long while. You lingered in the hallway until a sound from round the corner forced you into action and you pushed the door open, slipping inside and shutting it behind you before you could be discovered.

The room was dark and it was so quiet you almost wondered if maybe he wasn’t here, until you heard a muffled groan from the bed. You frowned, turning your attention towards the noise as you started to move closer. You were very aware of the fact this could bring his wrath down upon you once more but you didn’t really care. You were too worried about him.

Thranduil had buried himself beneath a mountain of sheets, trying to block out the world, block out the pain, block out his very existence. It was very much not working. His face felt like it was literally on fire. This would sometimes happen, though it happened less now than it used to in the past. It would flare again when things got too much. The healers said it was mostly psychological by now. His burns would feel almost as they had the day he received them and he would find it much harder, or completely impossible, to conceal them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was muffled by the sheets but his tone still cut enough to make you hesitate briefly before you pushed your panic away and crossed the rest of the distance towards the bed. You halted at the edge, your knees touching the sheets.

“Thranduil…”

His response came quick, his tone supposed to be hard but wavering as a flash of pain shot through him. “Leave.”

You could point out the exact second that Thranduil lost his composure, if he’d even really had it to begin with. Throwing all caution out the window in your worry, you leaned down and began to attempt to extract him from beneath the sheets. “Please, at least let me look at you… you might need treatment…”

Thranduil’s arm snaked out from his hiding place and his fingers harshly grasped your wrist, pulling you down and onto your back in one quick movement. In almost the same instant he’d thrown the covers away and was looming over you.

“Look then!” He thundered. “Look at the damage monsters like your little pet can inflict!”

Even through the pitch black of the room, you could see the uneven lacerations across the left side of his face, the muscle beneath, the white of his blind eye. It was horrifying to look upon but only because you could scarcely even imagine the pain he had had to endure.

The silence was loud as he glared down at you, his breathing heavy. He was strong even now as he held you in place but you could feel him shaking just a little. Without thinking about it, you slowly lifted your free hand to cup his unscarred cheek. His eyes drifted shut at the contact and his tense expression relaxed a little.

You stared up at him, thumb gently caressing his skin. You felt terrible. You knew that his being like this right now was due to Aegnor. You had brought the dragon here and you hadn’t truly stopped to consider just how much stress and strain it would be putting upon him. The thought had occurred to you, sure, but you’d mostly only been focused on his rage. Beneath it all, simmering away, had been this. It was your fault he was suffering like this and the thought caused tears to gather in your eyes.

“I am so sorry.” You whispered then, finally uttering those long overdue words.

Thranduil opened his eyes and stared down at you. He was quiet and, truthfully, he was surprised. He had been angry that you had not yet apologised but he had told himself it would be too little too late if it ever did come. He’d been wrong because, suddenly, he realized those words were everything.

So overcome was he that he acted without a single thought as he leaned in and captured your mouth with his own.

So surprised were you that you immediately froze, unable to even respond to the kiss.

Thranduil mistook your reaction for disinterest or offence and he immediately pulled back and let go of you, moving to face away from you. “Leave.” He said again, but the fight had gone out of him.

You stayed where you were for a few moments, completely stunned by what he’d just done, before you came back to yourself and sat up. “No.” You told him, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He flinched and shrugged your hand away.

With a sigh, you stood up from the bed. Thranduil assumed you were leaving but he lifted his head just slightly when he heard your footsteps going in the wrong direction. You disappeared into an adjoining room but you returned too quickly for him to say anything. You walked back over to the bed and sat beside him.

“Lie down.” You said softly, looking at him with sad eyes. In your hands you held a cool, damp cloth and an all too familiar jar of ointment.

Thranduil hesitated, staring at you and wondering whether he should mention his stupidity from a few moments ago, but he soon decided that if you were not going to then neither was he. Slowly, he eased himself back down, resting his head upon his pillow.

You smiled just a little then, angling yourself towards him as you opened the jar and took a little of the ointment on your fingers. Taking care to be very gentle, you smoothed the ointment on the areas around his scars, just at the edges.

Sometimes when he was like this Thranduil would forgo treating himself in any way, as if it were some sort of punishment. He knew it was wrong but it was a habit he would often default to.

Thranduil watched you very carefully. He could feel his ire decreasing and he could feel his face stinging a little less. There was slight wonder in his expression as he stared at you. How you could even look at his face like this, how you could touch it! It made his heart swell, though the thought of his unreturned kiss caused it to close up again just a little. Of course you didn’t return his feelings. How could you? Why would you?

Next, you placed the cloth over the entire left side of his face, watching as it seemed to take effect almost immediately. Thranduil’s eyes closed at the cooling sensation and he hummed in satisfaction.

“Oh, that is much better…” He admitted in a whisper and you couldn’t help but smile as you gave his hand a squeeze.

“I’m glad.” You said quietly, gazing at him for a moment longer before you stood and turned in the direction of the door.

“Wait.” His fingers closing around your wrist, this time gently, made you turn back to him. He was looking at you again and what you could see of his expression looked so unsure your heart nearly broke. “Stay.” He murmured. “Stay until I fall asleep.”

It surprised you but you were quick to agree, settling yourself back on the edge of the bed with a soft smile. “Of course.” You pulled the sheets up, making sure he was comfortable. It struck you then that he looked absolutely exhausted and you wondered just how much sleep he’d actually been getting.

He lay there staring at you for a long while until you finally laughed. “You’ll never sleep if you don’t close your eyes.”

Your remark pulled the slightest of chuckles from him - a real one - the first you had heard in what felt like a very long time.

Thranduil nodded his agreement before he dutifully closed his eyes and focused on the cool sensation of the cloth on his face and the warm presence of you beside him.

Just when you thought he’d fallen asleep, his voice sounded again. “Thank you.” For the apology and for helping him. “Tomorrow we will try to talk again… about Aegnor.”

The dragon’s name from his lips shocked you and, despite his eyes being shut, the slight smirk pulling at the right corner of his mouth told you he knew it.

You stayed there until Thranduil finally did fall asleep and then you stood. You might have stayed the whole night if things were different but you decided against it. Besides, you needed to go back to your own chamber and make sure Aegnor was fed.

Your thoughts flickered back to the kiss as you turned for the door. You’d almost forgotten about it in your desire to help him. You weren’t really sure what to make of it. The moment had been strange and perhaps he had simply been confused, caught up, something… you didn’t know and you decided you weren’t going to embarrass or anger him by asking. Tensions had been running high and he’d been very vulnerable. People did lots of things they’d never dream of when they were feeling that way. It wasn’t about you, you decided, albeit a little sadly.

Still, you couldn’t resist turning back just slightly and leaning down to press a soft kiss to his unscarred cheek before you scurried from the room.

The guard outside your door gave you a look of complete shock as he watched you rush past him and close yourself away. He’d been certain you were already inside the room and he just hoped that he wouldn’t face his king’s wrath tomorrow.

Aegnor was still asleep when you entered so you turned to ready yourself for bed and slipped under the covers, feeling suddenly drained as your emotions caught up with you.

You truly hoped that you and Thranduil might be able to work better together this time to come to some sort of decision about Aegnor that would suit everyone, as difficult as it may be.

Closing your eyes, doing your best to ignore your nerves for the day that lay ahead, you eventually drifted off to sleep with the memory of Thranduil’s lips on yours.

[savage-rhi]

Mending Shadows // Chapter 32

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

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Tuti had never been so frightened in her life. With her back to the wall, she attempted to gather her bearings. The task was proving to be a futile effort, for her lungs clamored for oxygen. Her throat felt shattered with every inhale of breath. She was quite surprised to have a voice given her consistent screaming. A part of her subconscious that wasn’t falling apart at the seams joked she could’ve passed as an operatic singer in another life, for her air capacity seemed unyielding. 

Unyielding…Gods, she wished to have such strength. Her fingertips quivered against the cobblestone upon her back, wondering if she should look around the corner. A terrible crunch had Tuti reconsider tactics as her body flinched. Low growls intertwined with a quelching noise that fanned the flames of dread inside of her. She could feel it slither down her back, causing her legs to tremble. 

Tuti knew what awaited her around the edge, and the ghastly sight that would surely burn into her conscious for all time. Yet her curiosity was tempted to take a gander at what Y/N was doing to the bodies. 

Only for a second…She told herself. Just one second…

Tuti sealed her lips tight--took in a deep breath--and inched little by little.

As her head turned she resisted the urge to gasp. Six to seven corpses were scattered around. She and Y/N were a long way from the building that MedZin originally trapped them at. Tuti reminded herself there were plenty of lost souls to be found, and her eyes followed a trail of fresh blood. She settled her gaze on Y/N's back. 

Tuti squinted her eyes to get a better look. Y/N was crouched above the body of a woman. Although she couldn’t make heads or tails of what was happening, she knew Y/N was eating her. The squishy noise of flesh being ripped had Tuti’s stomach fighting the urge to throw up as goosebumps trailed the fine hairs along her arms. 

Gods be damned upon me…Regret took the form of tears in the corner of her eyes.

Tuti knew she should’ve bolted when the men unhanded her to deal with Y/N’s daemonic state. She should’ve ran like hell until her legs could no longer carry the weight of her guilt, but devotion was a fickle thing. She couldn’t in good conscience leave Y/N behind. Not even if they had become a monster and massacred all who tried to stand in their way. Y/N was important, and so was witnessing every horrible act they committed. 

Tuti’s thoughts were interrupted as Y/N's growls began to stagnate. Their breathing quaked, and they suddenly flung the corpse away from them. 

Tuti jumped as the body tumbled off to the side. The strength behind the shove had her grimace. She could only imagine what her poor body would've felt had she been on the receiving end. Her pondering ceased as her eyes once again followed Y/N. 

Y/N started to crawl on all fours as if bipedalism was an uncommon state of being. Their head violently shook from side to side while anguished shrills crept past their lips. Eyes tightly closed as bits of light from the sun trickled into the room. Suddenly, Y/N began to choke on warm blood that flooded their entire throat. Their body heaved as contents from their stomach began to spill. Black bile and bits of meat collapsed onto the floor, creating a noise that sounded like expired milk meeting concrete. The sensation was beyond words and disgust. Painful wheezes were the only noise Y/N made for a time. 

The purge of flesh had momentarily snapped Y/N’s conscious out of its catatonic state. They collapsed on their side, only to scramble to their knees once they caught a whiff of the vomit that lay not far. Weakly, Y/N forced the upper half of their body to rise. With heavy breaths, Y/N opened their black and yellow eyes as their head leaned back. They stared at the ceiling as the world twisted in disarray. They had no idea who they were, or what was going on, but everything felt terribly wrong. 

Y/N slowly brought their hands up to their eyes. A blotched purple hue plagued their skin as did black spider webbing. Then there was the blood. A murky red that nearly camouflaged well against their clawed fingertips. The copper smell inflamed their nostrils, and their heart skipped a beat. For a split second, Y/N became aware of what was going on. Tears instantly streamed from their eyes, mingling with the same black bile that touched their chin and mouth. The scourge--catching wind that it's hold was failing--attempted to steer it's vessel in another direction. Y/N felt their skull split in half as their brain was doused in sickness. 

Throwing back their head, Y/N let out an inhuman screech. The sounds devolved into melancholic growls. More sun came through and they covered their eyes. In a frenzy, Y/N dug their nails into their scalp to relieve themself of pain. Their cries weakened further, and their normal voice started to peak through the cracks of daemonification.  

All Tuti could do was cover her mouth as she watched. Her own tears had become heavy as she witnessed Y/N attempting to shine through the monstrous mask. She could scarce believe it. That there was someone that still remained underneath all that. 

A loose lightbulb overhead suddenly dropped near Tuti’s location. She gasped into her hand, observing the shattered glass then looked up. Y/N was staring right at her, unblinking. 

“By the six, Y/N…” Tuti stuttered. “Don’t come here. Please. Please. Don’t come here.” 

Y/N’s head canted to the side in a swift motion. The movement reminded Tuti of a bird cocking its head out of curiosity. Y/N sniffled and leaned forward. Once again on their hands and knees, they slowly crawled toward Tuti. Y/N's features went neutral while never taking their eyes off of her. 

Tuti wanted to scream.

Most would’ve followed animal instinct and run, but Tuti froze. She tried to rationalize her choice to remain, given what she witnessed when the MedZin soldiers attempted to flee. They were cut limb from limb in a matter of seconds. Perhaps if she stood her ground, this creature at the helm of Y/N’s body wouldn’t see her as a threat. By all accounts this was stupid, but she had no other choice but to lock in as Y/N was no more than ten feet away now. 

Y/N’s head twitched as they sniffed the air. Blinking a few times, the neutrality they wore began to shift. Fright plagued the dark eyes that stared right at Tuti. Uncertain what to make of her, all the while remaining attentive to what she’d do next. 

Tuti felt like she was going to have a heart attack.

“It’s alright,” Tuti whispered, more to herself than to Y/N. “It’s alright.” 

Y/N seemed to be hypnotized by her words, and Tuti let out a breath she had been holding back. The purr like snort Y/N let out would’ve been almost endearing had they not been consuming a person moments ago.

“Y/N, it’s okay.” Tuti nodded as her lips quivered into a smile. “Everything’s going to be fine!”

Everything’s going to be fine, but not for the dead...Tuti recalled the body count and bit her lip. Now wasn't the time for survivors guilt. Not when she had Y/N more or less settled down. 

“Y/N,” Tuti murmured. “I’m going to get help. Do you know what that means? I’m going to fetch the Chancellor. He’ll be here, and you’ll be okay. You hear that? You’re going to be just fine. He’ll fix this!” 

She took one step backward and all hell broke loose. 

Y/N lunged forward, snapping their mouth in rapid succession at Tuti while they attempted to grab her. Tuti let out a high pitch scream and bolted. Panting heavily, she sprinted down a hall and made a right. Her body slammed into a door, and she let out a pained yelp. She ignored whatever bruises were gained and continued to run as the sound of Y/N's brisk claws rapidly trailed. Suddenly, Tuti felt a huge weight upon her back as Y/N launched themself at her. 

Tuti shrieked and she tumbled to the floor with Y/N. Save for the stinging lacerations Y/N inflicted, Tuti couldn't make heads or tails of what was going on. She yelled and used her weight against Y/N, and forced them both to roll over several times before coming to a stop. Tuti felt the wind knock out of her as Y/N slammed her to the ground. Frantically, Tuti's right arm reached out for whatever was near, and pulled a rifle off a MedZin corpse and used it to block Y/N's mashing teeth from reaching her face at the last second. 

“Y/N! Stop it!” Tuti bellowed. Her plead fell on deaf ears as Y/N kept snapping. The material of the gun was being peeled away quick, and Tuti knew she didn’t have long. Her eyes rapidly glanced between both their bodies, and using all her strength, Tuti pushed up and kicked Y/N not once but several times in the abdomen.

One pained cry after another escaped Y/N, and while stunned, Tuti adjusted the rifle and used it to hit them across the face. The power behind Tuti’s hit forced Y/N off as they plummeted to the side and away from her. 

Tuti scrambled to her feet and ran before Y/N had the chance to recover and finish the job. She ran so fast that the muscles in her calves began to spasm. 

“You there, miss!” An Accordo trooper beckoned Tuti to come forth. “Miss, do you need help? We’re looking for survivors of an explosion! Miss! Miss!”

Tuti didn’t register the soldiers who had come to search for survivors. She didn’t hear Y/N let out a haunting scream, nor did she hear the conversation the men had amongst themselves as to what caused it. She didn’t hear them make haste toward Y/N’s location. She didn’t hear the yells, the gunfire, or the sound of an unknown weapon going off, causing Y/N pain beyond measure that the daemonic voice all but disappeared as the human within called out her name. 

“TUTI!” 

Her ears fell numb to the world, and she didn’t stop running.

After what felt like an eternity, exhaustion had Tuti come to a halt. Out of breath and wheezing, Tuti forced her dry eyes to look around and figure out where she ended up. Buildings that hadn't been touched by the earlier attack greeted her as did a clear sky. The smoke was long gone, and there were seldom few down this road, save for Accordo troopers securing the area. It didn't take long for Tuti to realize she was in one of the districts closest to the port. 

“Thank heavens,” she said in between harsh breaths. She grimaced at feeling her clothes stick to her skin from all her perspiration, and felt guilty. This was nothing compared to what Y/N was enduring--that is if they were still alive. Tuti didn't have time to entertain the thought any further as a strong hand gripped her shoulder. She felt the world spin and she screamed. 

Ardyn flinched from the screech, making a face as he shook his head. “Tuti?”

“Chancellor Izunia?” Tuti’s bottom lip quivered, happy to see a familiar face. She threw her arms out and embraced him. "Oh thank the six!" 

Ardyn was dumbfounded as his arms flew up to avoid being fully ensnared. He acknowledged Tuti had a forcible strength despite her small frame, and wasn't sure if that shocked him or the fact someone genuinely sounded relieved to be basking in his presence. He looked down and his gaze met hers. Tuti's heartsore eyes reminded Ardyn of a devout praying before the heavens to be freed of strife. 

“Y/N is back there! I couldn’t do anything but watch. There was so much blood! Y/N’s not themself, and I don’t know what to do! What are we going to do? I didn’t want to run, but what choice did I have?! Y/N tried to kill me and I…Chancellor, what are we going to do?!”

“My dear, you’re going to let me go for starters.” Ardyn grimaced as he calmly coaxed Tuti’s arms and hands away from him. He composed himself the best he could, and softened his hardened gaze. “Second, I need you to breathe. Can you do that?”

“I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I can do that!” 

“You can and you will if you care for what happens to Y/N!” Ardyn stated firmly. He somewhat prided himself in the fact he scared her, for Tuti's disposition immediately changed like a switch going off. She shook like a cat who had nearly drowned as Ardyn gestured for her to follow his motions, taking in a big inhale followed by an exhale. Little by little, she started to regain her old self from what he gathered. 

“Good, good,” Ardyn replied eagerly. He only had so much patience to aid someone with a basic mindfulness technique. 

“Chancellor--”

“Tuti,” Ardyn rested both hands upon her shoulders, minding not to put his weight on her. He made a great effort to not sound hostile, nor give away the desperation that was tugging his pulse. “It’s imperative I know where Y/N is at. I need you to tell me everything.” 

“I…alright,” Tuti swallowed. She studied Ardyn's features, noting how tired he was, and she felt a pinch of intimidation run down her body. She also couldn't help but notice how golden his eyes were. Not like the earthy brown tones she had seen in many common people, but an almost ethereal hue that felt dangerous. For a second, Tuti thought she was looking at Y/N's daemonic eyes. Her breath hitched and she averted her gaze. No longer having the strength to be reminded of what almost killed her. 

“Y/N and I were heading for the port to evacuate. The Imperial caravan at the hotel was long gone by the time Loqui and I found them. We took to the smaller roads to avoid the crowds. Then out of nowhere, there was this…explosion. It was like a star fell from the heavens and blinded us. The impact sent Y/N and I flying in opposite directions. When I came to, I frantically looked for Y/N before I was manhandled by these people in black uniforms with a red patch--MedZin I think. They talked so fast, but they planned to take Y/N with them and kill me.” She had to pause for a moment, shuddering from the implications of her fate had Y/N not taken to rage. 

“And then?” Ardyn besought. 

Tuti let out a breath. “Y/N suddenly turned into…something else. A daemon. One by one, our adversaries were slain, but MedZin tossed another one of those bombs at us. Y/N retreated deeper into the building to avoid it. I stupidly chased, and Y/N just kept getting more and more violent. MedZin retreated at that point because Y/N overwhelmed them--"

“Do you know where the men ran off to?” Ardyn interrupted. 

“No,” Tuti shook her head. “I wasn’t paying attention. I was too scared Y/N was going to find me. There was a moment I thought Y/N came to their senses, but they tried to attack me. I ended up hurting them, and I think Accordo troopers went seeking them out.” she pointed past him. “The building, it was several blocks down that way…you can’t miss the impact site of the bomb.”

Ardyn let go of Tuti’s shoulders and made a fist. His fingers were loosing blood from the pressure he applied.

“Chancellor, I beseech you I didn’t mean to leave Y/N behind,” Tuti sniffled. She could sense the brief hostility that traveled through him, despite his hands no longer being upon her body. “I’m so sorry--I thought…”

“Don’t speak any further,” Ardyn breathed. He resisted the urge to strike, knowing most would’ve done what she did in order to survive. Using his right index finger, Ardyn poked underneath Tuti’s chin and coaxed her to look up before letting go. “You have my sincere appreciation for what you’ve confessed. What come may, I’ll handle everything.”

“T-thank you, Chancellor.” Tuti weakly gave a bow with her head. As she rose, she followed Ardyn’s hand while he gestured toward a group of Higher Imperials from afar, being escorted by two magitek soldiers. Her heart skipped a beat, knowing there were familiar faces. 

“Go to them,” Ardyn encouraged. “Now.” 

Tuti glanced over him one last time before she found the courage to pick up her feet again. 

After taking in the destruction nearby, Ardyn shadow stepped and headed for the spot Tuti had pointed out. While he transcended through space like nothing, he suddenly felt his body wanting to give out, and it did just that. His breathing raced as the scourge traveled through him, and Ardyn suddenly came to a grinding halt. 

“Oh Gods…” He hoarsely whispered, feeling his heart cease like it had been grasped by someone with a tight grip. The last time Ardyn felt his heart stop beating was when Somnus struck him down during their duel for the throne. He remembered it well. Pain and confusion danced in harmony as air left his lungs, and the muscle of his heart desperately pumped without realizing the action would be its undoing. Ardyn felt that same suffering both physically and metaphorically in the present. 

Multiple points on his body started to become inflamed, as if the very fibers of Ardyn's muscles wanted to break through his skin. He then heard horrid screams pulse in his ears, and behind his eyes he saw a familiar daemonic entity wearing Y/N's face. The scourge felt beyond excited. The rush of despair Ardyn felt at the last second on Y/N's behalf at Outpost 98 came back to haunt him with a vengeance. Y/N--his Y/N--was close to the finish line just as before. 

“Pull yourself together!” Ardyn snarled. He once again shadow stepped as if the gods themselves were trailing him in a hunt. 

Minutes passed, and Ardyn neared the site of the explosion. He didn’t want to waste time, but couldn’t resist taking a gander at the impact point. A hint of a sulfur like odor hung in the air which caused him to grimace. He then picked up on a bouquet of scents that had the scourge in his body attempting to shirk away. The hivemind didn’t like this. Not one bit. 

“A suffoco was deployed,” Ardyn said quietly to himself, and looked ahead to the large hole that led inside the building. A shroud of screams came tumbling out, and Ardyn braced himself for the worst as he ventured forth into the fray. 

The interior of the building was an abysmal mess. What was once a lavish series of offices and intricate halls was now a pigsty of debris, brick, and blood. Ardyn didn’t envy whoever worked here. He imagined how tedious the task would be picking up after the carnage he had observed left and right. The foul sweet smell of the scourge within Y/N’s blood waft in the air, and like an addict, Ardyn eagerly followed the trail. 

A noise with a rhythmic tap rang in his ears before the explosion went off. Ardyn lost his balance, and slouched against the wall nearest to his right. It felt as if the rays of the sun kissed through all layers of his flesh. A pained moan fell past his lips. His right hand reached for his chest, and trembled up his neck as a strain took hold. 

Confusion rampaged across Ardyn’s eyes while he rapidly glanced around. With each pass of air through his lungs, Ardyn felt his organs clamoring for relief. The commotion was far away. He hadn’t been hit by a suffoco, but by the gods, did it feel like it. 

As his ears rang, the rapid tempo of a pulse soon took over as the dominant noise. It wasn’t his heartbeat, but that of another. It hit him all at once as his mind seemingly began to download information at a speed unfathomable to a mortal. 

Y/N couldn't breathe. They were alone, terrified, and suffering. The scourge had given up its lust for dominance over the host, and was attacking the body from the inside out in a crude attempt to relieve itself of affliction. Ardyn felt his body flux in temperature. One moment boiling, the next cold as ice. The daemonic entities that resided within screeched so loud, that Ardyn shouted while covering his ears. Falling forward, the shrieking evolved into desperate murmurs of incoherent thought. 

“Y/N,” Ardyn gasped. His brain felt like it was melting, but he tried to keep himself afloat. The sclera of his eyes became a pitch black void, and Ardyn instinctively began to follow the voices and Y/N's pulse. 

With every step, Ardyn felt agony like no other wash over his soul. He nearly tripped over himself a few times, not used to taking on the burdens of a mortal. Despite discomfort, he persisted on his path. Gods be damned anyone or anything that got in the way of the impulse he felt enslaved to. The very atoms of his being desperately yearned to be with who his scourge had imprinted upon. 

Soon enough, Ardyn arrived in the room where he assumed Y/N would be. He stopped to catch his breath and looked downward. Bodies of Accordo troopers littered the area. He couldn’t sense any other life present, until heavy breaths captured his attention.

Ardyn watched in dismay as Y/N suddenly emerged. Like a fish out of water, Y/N crashed and tumbled into everything. In between hysterics, Ardyn noticed Y/N's skin sizzling with an artificial smell that was likened to a rich spice. Y/N had been directly hit by a suffoco, and the light magic within the orb had triggered asphyxiation. He could feel the light that had penetrated attempting to purge the scourge by any means necessary. 

Ardyn briefly recalled witnessing demonstrations of the weapons use from Accordo officials. It was one thing to watch in trials, but another to helplessly observe a daemonified creature go through such suffering. He was pulled out of his head as Y/N choked while trying in vain to scream, and made direct eye contact with them. 

Despite a pair of abyssal eyes staring him down, Ardyn could see the human showing through. A desperate plead haunted Y/N’s features, and he felt his blood run cold knowing subconsciously what Y/N was telling him despite not having full control of their actions:

They were making their peace with the end. 

“No, no, no!” Ardyn shook his head. His voice teetered on the edge between human and monster, enough to startle Y/N. “You don’t have the right to do that! You don’t have the damned right! We don't take the easy way out, Y/N!" 

For a moment, Ardyn thought he had them under his control until he witnessed Y/N’s scourge veins rapidly pulsate. It was like witnessing a caterpillar attempting to burst out of its cocoon in a bloody mess. During his turmoil, Ardyn didn't pay attention to the fact Y/N suddenly attacked him. The punches made him snarl, and he felt Y/N cut open his left arm with a swipe of their clawed fingertips. Ardyn let out a pained hiss as Y/N flung themself off and retreated. 

“Y/N, come back!” Ardyn beseeched with a yell. “Y/N!” 

He chased after them and Y/N collapsed against the legs of a table nearby. Their airway now almost completely blocked, they began to let out a sickening wheeze. Ardyn came to their side and fell upon his knees. He gathered Y/N's body into his arms. His tear brimmed eyes desperately searched them over while he tried to shake them back into consciousness. 

“Oh no, no, no! Y/N!” Ardyn's voice strained while his mind flickered between the past and present. Y/N's painful rasps intermingled with the somber breaths Aera had taken before she had perished. History was repeating itself in a way that crushed him more than the blade of Somnus piercing his back, and Ardyn desperately cried out as Y/N violently escaped from his grasp. 

Amidst the sudden jolt, Ardyn froze as an idea leeched into his head. If the panic could be settled, if the scourge could be reassured--like he had done for Y/N's flares in the past--perhaps there was a chance of survival. Instinct beckoned him to give more of his scourge to Y/N, and to lure Y/N's pain to a singular point. 

Ardyn's mouth fell open as he saw the irony of their roles being reversed. It was now Y/N's turn to feed off him in order to heal. While the thought seemed counterintuitive, he had to try. He couldn't--no, he wouldn't go through a painful loss again. He rapidly began to think of ways to get the scourge into Y/N. There was nothing sterile like a syringe near, and he scarce doubted such an item existed in an office setting. Ardyn nearly settled for hovering his injured arm above their mouth and letting the scourge drip, but he realized Y/N could choke further.

"There's gotta be some damned way to-!"

Ardyn looked down at his sliced arm, watching blood and dark bile seep from the wound. His heart skipped a beat as revelation cleared his mind, then carefully brought the injured limb to his mouth and started to suckle. Ardyn could feel the underside of his tongue fill with scourge, and he tried to contain it without it falling to the back of his throat. After consuming much, he lifted his head. Blood and scourge oozed from the corners of his mouth as a determined fixation lingered in his gaze. 

While Y/N began to rise from the ground, Ardyn’s right hand grabbed a hold of their head from the chin in a tight vice. He forcibly turned them around. Y/N gagged out a hoarse yell in protest. The whites of their eyes were pushing and pulling against the darkness. Ardyn could sense through their agony that they didn’t want to fight him, but had no control over themselves. Not in this sorry state. 

Before Y/N had the chance to attack, Ardyn brashly pinned Y/N to the ground with his body. Either side of his arms caged their head. He leaned forward and Y/N cried out as his left hand cupped the side of their face. Ardyn let go of his hesitance, tilted his head, and softly pressed his lips to Y/N's. Closing his eyes, he forced his tongue inside their mouth and remained still, letting the scourge he had gathered slowly descend into Y/N's body. 

Little by little, Ardyn felt Y/N's trembling cease. He calmly breathed through his nose, and flinched when his throat captured one of Y/N's gasps. The scourge was definitely distracted. He could feel it begin to sync up with his own, losing its fear to the light that he was snuffing out. Gods be damned to all hells known if this wasn't going to work. This had to work. He would make it so.  

As the seconds ticked on, Ardyn moved his mouth ever so slightly. His tongue lifted and tugged against Y/N's, controlling the flow of the scourge. The sound of Y/N's heartbeat in his ears began to dissipate as his own increased. He felt a moan from Y/N reverberate through his mouth, and impulsively returned a groan of pleasure. Euphoria began to flood him, which confused Ardyn greatly. He shouldn't have been deriving any sort of satisfaction from this act yet his nerves melted. His knees grew weak as he felt Y/N's bottom lip feebly tug. If he didn't know better, they were trying to kiss him back. 

Ardyn tried to not allow such sentiment to interfere with his aid. This was nothing but a transaction to ensure both parties would survive, yet he could feel himself succumbing to the similar affections he craved at the springs. There was a part of Ardyn, a part he denied, that hoped the kiss would linger. He prayed even harder that Y/N wouldn't pick up on these feelings through their bond. 

Ardyn's face flushed with warmth while he slightly opened his eyes. He admired the little imperfections in Y/N's skin before the hand that was cradling their face gripped further. His thumb brushed upon their flesh delicately and he closed his eyes yet again and deepened the dark kiss. His movements were deliberately slow, giving Y/N plenty of time for their body to settle and even push him away should they be fairing well. Ardyn could feel Y/N's scourge merge with the hivemind that flickered in the back of his subconscious. It wouldn't be long before it would become dormant at his behest.

A muffled groan from Y/N’s end had Ardyn freeze. The noise wasn’t feeble and broken but strong, indicating to him that Y/N could breathe freely. He relinquished whatever desires that held him, and lifted his lips from Y/N’s. His eyes carded over their face, relief grasping him at seeing natural color return to Y/N’s flesh. Save for the small patches of scourge markings, they were by all accounts normal. He hoped in mind, that similar results would show. That Y/N was still there, in their head and in control. 

Ardyn removed himself from Y/N. He adjusted his legs, now sitting upon his knees as he bundled up Y/N close to his chest. While supporting Y/N with his left arm, Ardyn used his right hand to softly nudge their face. Fear tip toed around him as he pondered the what ifs. Y/N wasn’t dying no longer. The scourge all but confirmed that, but such assurance from spirits of darkness did little to calm the erratic ache of not knowing in full. 

“Y/N,” Ardyn whispered in plea. “Y/N, talk to me. Talk to me."

He stilled when Y/N opened their eyes. There was no trace of a familiar set of amber orbs looking upon him as if he had held up a mirror to himself. 

“Hi,” Y/N croaked. The word was faint and scratchy, but it was enough. Shortly after, Y/N closed their eyes and passed out. Their body and mind too worn to comprehend the world.  

Despite them passing out, words couldn't convey nor touch how relieved Ardyn felt in this moment. To be free of loss's burden was a blessing sweeter than all the sins he had committed upon others. Ardyn closed his eyes while settling down his nerves, and embraced Y/N tightly to him. Had he been a pious man, perhaps the gods would've deserve some praise for the occasion, but alas not. He saved Y/N himself. An immortal--Adagium--saved someone with his own curse. 

“What are you doing?” 

Like a mirror being crashed into, Ardyn’s body stiffened at the intrusion of Loqui's voice. He was rattled out of his peace, and the deep yellows behind his black eyes constricted while he growled under breath. 

“Chancellor, what are you doing with Y/N?” Loqui’s voice grew louder. He stepped forward, and his mouth fell open. Shock fell upon his face as he caught glimpse of the scourge markings that covered Y/N's legs. "Y/N's...no, Y/N's a daemon?" 

Ardyn kept his back to Loqui, shielding the majority of Y/N from him. His shoulders quaked as the relief he had felt seconds ago, began to burn off into a resentful anger. 

“This can’t be!” Loqui stepped back. He shook his head. “Did the attackers infect Y/N?!”

“No,” Ardyn lowly replied. 

“So then…” Loqui’s voice trailed off as he started to put it together. He could feel his face turning a pale. “Has Y/N been sick this whole time?” 

“You were supposed to be watching them!” Ardyn bellowed. He turned his face to the side; daemonic features long gone yet his animosity remained. "You stupid, reckless, boy!" 

The sudden scream had Loqui jump and lose his train of thought. He watched Ardyn rise to his feet with Y/N in tow. Despite being scared, Loqui felt weeks of pent up frustration toward the Chancellor come tumbling out. He stood his ground, and glared while firmly talking back to Ardyn. 

“Chancellor or not, you will not address me as such!” 

“I can damn well call you by the name of every filth on Eos if it would give me pleasure!” Ardyn spat. “Y/N and I argued for a day and night over you being their guardian while I attended the empires affairs in Altissa, and your negligence almost cost them everything!” 

“You can’t pin this all on me!” Loqui retaliated. “My commands from the battalion take precedence in the event of--!”

“Precedence? Don’t make me laugh!” Ardyn interrupted with a bitter scoff. “I know you all too well, boy. You walk in the shadow of your father and wished to be seen in the same light as he. That’s why aiding the House of the Courts benefited you versus keeping Y/N--and Tuti for that matter--safe from our enemies! It wouldn’t bode well on your resume, no, but saving Madam Secretary and all those Higher Imperials would’ve done numbers for your reputation! Admit it you little leech!”

“You don't know a damn thing about me, and you should talk! Like you've done any better regarding Y/N's welfare!" Loqui countered. “All this time Y/N has been sick with the starscourge, and you didn’t do or say anything about it? Does the emperor know?! Is Chief Besithia aware of that?!” 

“I am not privy to disclose or break Y/N’s confidence to the likes of you, regardless of how highly they’ve spoken of your character!” Ardyn yelled. “Y/N’s burdens are mine and Chief Besithia’s responsibility, not yours nor anyone else!” 

“So Y/N is a pet project then? Something for you and the Research Ministry to poke and prod at?!” Loqui felt his blood boil at the mere thought. “The laws are clear, Chancellor that we ease the suffering of those afflicted! The starscouge is a fate worse than death, the whole world knows that even our enemies! You're an inhuman monster for this! If you cared anything for Y/N, you'd-!" 

“Don’t you DARE tell me I don’t care about them!” 

The air stilled as both men froze, staring one another down. 

There was a time that Loqui believed while he could never beat the Chancellor in a game of wits, he could physically usurp him. The feelings of betrayal and anger tempted Loqui to prove his point. His mind was already made up, yet his body didn’t move to the commands of his conscious. Loqui was surprised. The fury behind Ardyn’s words were long gone, but the presence of an unfathomable rage lingered like a sickness that refused to part ways. 

Ardyn never once flinched. His firm posture--the way he held Y/N protectively to him--indicated to Loqui he had struck a nerve so deep, that the false bravado Ardyn displayed among the public could devolve into something dangerous. He had just earned himself a little taste of it. The very nerves under his flesh tinged at the realization. 

Loqui let out a snort, and lowered his head. Literally bowing out of a potential brawl. He made as fist as Ardyn began to walk with Y/N in tow and stopped. Loqui could feel the Chancellor’s eyes raining daggers upon him, and refused to look him in the eye. 

“There’s a thousand ways we can go about this, but I’ll keep it simple.” Ardyn coldly spoke. “Speak of Y/N’s condition to anyone, and I’ll ensure unfathomable suffering befalls you and your kin.”

Loqui flinched. “You’d really resort to that?”

“To protect Y/N, and the interests of empire itself, yes.” Ardyn firmly replied. He leaned in closer so he was nearly whispering in Loqui’s ear menacingly. “If I had half a mind, I'd encourage the Imperial army to demote you to such a low rank that worms would take precedence over your value. Alas, I will not be moving forward with such commands. I do this kindness for Y/N by sparing you, but make note: this will be the first and last time you ever question my sensibilities. Is that quite understood?" 

“Yes…”

“Yes what?” 

Loqui grit his teeth. “Yes Chancellor.” 

“That’s what I love to hear.” 

Loqui’s emotions were teetering on the edge at the way Ardyn mockingly said love. He didn’t know if Ardyn was mocking his feelings to Y/N, or if the Chancellor himself was admitting his own emotions in a subtle ploy. Mind games were not Loqui’s forte, nor did he ever want to become a person who enjoyed said things. It was best to let it go, despite having the urge to chuck his sword right through the man's chest while his guard was down. 

Enraged and at a loss, Loqui didn't hear Ardyn make his departure. Nor did he hear him state he would be seeking medical attention for Y/N. Loqui peered up and watched as Ardyn disappeared down the hall, leaving him with eviscerated corpses. The likes of which Loqui couldn't fathom. He grimaced as nausea curled its finger around his chin and tempted him onward. 

As he left the massacre behind him, Loqui couldn’t help but wonder if it was Y/N or the Chancellor who had committed these violent acts. Knowing Y/N was tainted by the scourge, it had to be them. But there was something about the Chancellor’s manner that him questioning everything down to his loyalties. He couldn't help but wonder how far the rabbit hole went, and wished more than anything, that he could lean on the wisdom of his father. 

[romanoffsbish]

… If Only in my Dreams…

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

I’ll Be Home For Christmas… (Prev)

Mama-Nat ; Mommy-R

Warnings: Hostile!Nat, Tantrums/Outbursts, Violence, Blood, Injured!R

Sorry it took so long to put out, but I just really wasn’t in the necessary headspace to finish this.

There was a low humming noise that filled the dark room, or at least you assumed it was dark since you'd yet to open your eyes, but judging by the lack of red tint to your eyelids it wasn't all that hard to infer. You intended to appear asleep to your captors, but due to the frigidity of the space you were left in it was impossible to contain your shaking, and as you expected it wasn't long before someone was entering.

"Good, you're finally awake.," the mans taunting laughter bellowed off the walls as he bared witness to the ceasing of your shivering, your body was now stilled, every muscle having tensed up, whilst the hair on your body stood, and your heart thumped harshly in your chest., "Welcome home Agent 22, get some rest, you'll be needing it.," he chuckled unabashedly while your body racked with uncontainable sobs that only further the pain in your head. The sound of the slamming door behind him made a harsh noise as it automatically locked, and you knew, without a doubt, exactly where you were.

Back at the beginning...

——

——

It'd been twenty four hours since you fell, an entire trip around the sun with no answer on as to where you ended up, or if you were even still alive. Presumably you're being held captive by an 'unknown' group of men, with harsh injuries to account for all the blood you lost in Russia. When the sisters returned to the cabin your wife wasted no time utilizing all of her own resources and access to government databases. Every avenue she went down failed though, she knew it'd be pointless to remain in Russia, it's very unlikely your captors had, and she hadn't enough to work with in the faraway place so she set back off to the states for assistance.

So now Natasha paced around Clint's barn, the place she'd advised her former teammates to meet up with her at as it wasn't on any radars. Her heart was absolutely shattered, her gut had been warning her from the start that the trip was a bad idea, but somehow you'd convinced her it would be okay, and now you're injured horribly, and on top of that you're also missing. Had her sister never treated you so terribly, or had she stuck to her guns and kept you home, then this nightmare wouldn't have come to life.

Yelena was sat on a bale of hay, her face was stitched up, injured arm strapped to her body, and her eyes were painfully glued to the floor, unwilling to catch those of her sisters. This trip was never supposed to end in carnage, even if at one point Yelena thought she'd have to kill you herself—deep down she always knew she wouldn't have to, but even in her success of making nice with you, this is still all her fault. Two unsuspecting kids sit inside the Barton's house, only a few paces from her guilty form. The thought of them losing their mommy if they don't work fast enough weighing heavy on her conscience; it all brings her to silent tears.

Natasha hasn't said a word to her for fear of saying things she couldn't take back. She knows Yelena tried to save you, but had she never been reluctant to let you in, then the trip that led to your disappearance never would've happened, and you'd be here, safe in her arms.

Christmas is less than two weeks out, and the idea of you missing Eli's first Christmas leads to her falling to her knees in another fit of sobs. Clint was quick to pull her into his embrace, he doesn't try to shush her, or to cheer her up with promises of saving you—no, he simply holds her close, and allows her the space to fall apart.

Once she'd settled into his embrace, her sobs eventually faded into the occasional hiccup, and they remained in this bubble until she heard the familiar rumble of a jet, then she was racing out of the barn to greet the stoic team. Tony was first to deplane, the multitude of gadgets necessary in his hand to find you work to settle Natasha's nerves ever so slightly. Wanda's next to deplane, her eyes bloodshot from crying the whole ride there, and she's the first of any to pull Natasha in for a hug. Steve was the last to deplane, a heaviness settling on his shoulders as he continues to ponder if this was all his fault—did he compromise your life?

"Now that we're all here, shall we begin?," Tony breaks the tense silence, holding back a shiver once he sees the daggers the little witch was staring into the folded over blonde., "They've got something blocking the tracking device in her neck, here's all that I have for it.," Natasha relays, shoving her semi useless tracker into his hands in the hopes that it'll mean something to him. Tony smiled solemnly at her, then he silently began to fiddle with everything he brought to get the process going.

"Nat, why do we think they wanted Y/N?," Cap asks as a way to hopefully gather more of an understanding on why they only took you, the man however gulped upon seeing the fire in her eyes., "Not sure Rogers, could be the bar fight they caused, or the Hydra mission you sent me on, jury's still fucking out on a cause."

Everyone in the room flinched as her voice had only elevated, making Natasha jump to her feet right after to leave the barn in search of solace. The last thing she wanted was to guilt trip, or make your friends feel responsible. Sadly her her attempts to find such peace proved really hard to obtain when the only person who can bring her back down to earth is gone. Eliana, and Jackson usually brought her said peace, but with their uncanny similarity to you all she could see is what she lost, and failed to protect.

Facing them alone was already hard enough, but when one can verbalize his worries over his missing mommy it only makes it that much worse. Eli's cries also wouldn't stop with Nat around, when just last week it was only her who could get them to, it's as if she knew her mommy was in danger just by looking to her. Natasha was hardly ever alone with them, and she never realized they picked up on that until she returned without you. They'd been ecstatic for about thirty seconds before the emotional turmoil Natasha exuded transferred to them, then it was wailing, and "Where's mommy?," and her already breaking heart couldn't deal, leaving the Barton's to handle the distressed children, while she ran out to sob some more.

Avoiding your beloved kids is the last intention she ever had, but as she sat alone on the rickety tire swing it was exactly what she was doing. Tears ran down her cheeks at the daunting reality that they may never get you back, that she might have to raise the children without your warm touch, and voice of reason. Everything she knew about being a mother came from directly mirroring you, you'd been her reference point for all things proper., "She's alive Natalia, I can still feel her."

Wanda could hear her horrid thoughts from a mile away, the idea alone of never finding you was enough to have infuriated her. Though the tie between you two wasn't blood, there was no doubt it was akin to that of siblings. Hydra was never kind to any of you, but she never forgot the way you looked out for her and Pietro, or how you took the brunt of the testing for their sake. You were their guardian angel, so after many years of forced separation, when they saw you with the Avengers, leaving Ultron wasn't even a question, it was just the answer.

Wanda's no stranger to loss, she's lost everyone who's ever meant anything to her up until this point, everyone except for you. There's no way she isn't going to get you back, even if she has to delve into the world of unforeseen spells. Not a thing, or person in the world would stop her on her conquest to saving her family., "We're going to find my sister Natasha.," her voice boomed through the air with conviction, and for what felt like the millionth time today your wife was crying, she didn't understand what even set her off, but she sobbed anyways while Wanda moved to hold her close for you., "We'll find her Nat... We have to..."

——

Though you couldn't see anything, you could feel everything, like the frigid air being pumped into the metal room in obvious punishment. IV's were attached to your arms, the same set that you couldn't move more than an inch without sharp pains shooting throughout you. Whatever they were pumping you full of made you drowsy, but you were prepared for such torture tactics by Shield, and that's how you've managed to remain awake this whole time.

Time eluded you for the most part seeing as how you'd been locked away like a princess in a castle waiting for her glorified savior in all those silly fables, but you were certain by the tick of the clock—that he placed here to taunt you, that at least forty eight hours had passed since he first made himself known to you. Strucker, the man who held you captive for years, and who you'd believed was dead up until this point now held your life in his hands.

Slimy hands that only sought out unyielding power and to also bring you immense pain. It's obvious that Strucker heard about your giving up of your powers with the way he's using the cold to ice you into a weakened state. It's likely he always knew they'd kill you eventually, you reckon that's why he didn't put up much of a fight to find you after you fled over a decade ago. If you weren't so fatigued you'd give him a piece of your mind, but more to the truth, he'd yet to return, and you weren't wasting energy yelling at him through the cameras.

So you lied there silently, your eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments before they'd pop right back open—he wasn't getting the satisfaction of a win, no upper-hands for him. 

Funny enough, you were like the calm in the storm while lying emotionlessly on the bed, but unbeknownst to you, your prospective savior was in the state of a damsel in excess distress. Truly, you'd both managed to flip the script.

——

Hope around the Romanoff household had dwindled into nothing after over a weeks time, as Tony had yet to give the redhead any good news, and your wife was so distraught over this lack of progress that she'd only been getting about two hours of sleep a night, and was of hardly any use to anyone. Nightmares of all kinds plagued her mind every time her eyes were closed, and when they opened she was reminded that she was living in one just as bad. Wanda and Yelena had decided it best to stay with her in your house for the sake of the confused children. Wanda tended to Eli most days, while an injured Yelena usually handled all of Jackson's entertainment and needs.

Today though, Wanda had been urgently called into the barn by Tony and Steve, while Yelena was passed a grumpy Eli into her good arm. Jackson was whining for food, but the baby was crying, and Yelena couldn't manage both. Natasha went into the living room to decipher the fuss, and at the sight of the chaos she moved on autopilot, scooping up the little boy. Then she waltzed into the kitchen with the toddler clinging to her offered comfort, and she microwaved him a tray with chicken and fries.

The little boy whimpered when being removed from his mama's arms, she hadn't kept her comfort from him intentionally, and it ruined what was left of her heart to see him hurting due to her distance. He needed to eat though, so she settled his food before him, all was going well too as he smiled up at her gratefully, and she returned the smile, her first of the week. While she stayed to observe him she noticed he was only eating the fries with ketchup, and the chicken was left untouched. In an attempt to encourage him to eat the protein she dipped it into the available ketchup, but her face twisted when he looked at her in genuine disgust.

"Icky sauce.," he insisted while pushing her hand away, the former—potentially soon to be—widow's face scrunched up in obvious confusion. He'd literally just been eagerly dipping his fries into the ketchup with no issue., "Jackson, baby boy, please just eat the nugget, they're good for you.," she pressed the boy on tiredly, to which he loudly shouted back no, then continued to eat the fries unbothered.

"Jackson, don't yell at mama, and eat the damn chicken.," she herself yelled back, but she was instantly regretful as he flinched and looked to her with a wobbly lip, and eyes that were filling up fast with tears. A pained gasp left her when he shakily pushed her comfort away, he was sobbing, but wanted nothing to do with her. The confused look in his eyes was obvious, she had never yelled back at him before, she'd left the outbursts to you, and you were always so good at redirecting the non desired behaviors.

Natasha and you had agreed early on that you weren't going to be the parents that yelled at their kids for every little thing, that instead you'd lead by example, and the both of you would practice kindness, partaking in gentle parenting over the modern worlds harsh ways. Now, in one weeks time she'd undid it all, because the precious little boy looked at her as if she was the devil, Eli's sympathy wails soon filled the space, and it all broke her spirit even more., "Mama's sorry, I'm so sorry baby."

After removing the tray from his chair she gently placed her hands before him., "Baby, please look at mama, I'm sorry that I yelled at you.," the little boy looked up to her, glossed over eyes to resemble those of your own met hers, and she had to curtail the incoming sob at the heartbreaking resemblance. He needed her, the feelings she had would just have to wait., "Come here baby.," she pleaded desperately, watching as he worked through his options, and after only a second he launched from his chair and into her awaiting arms, she secured them around his tiny body, and the both of them cried together on the kitchen floor.

Yelena entered with the sniffling baby who, to her shock, reached for the two on the floor. After silently passing her over, Wanda entered the kitchen in a rush, the sight of the broken family cuddling causing her to steel her face., "What did the guys want?," Natasha's hoarse voice broke through the tense silence, but she was too focused on the kids in her arms to see Wanda's features twitching before speaking., "To see how you're doing, and quite frankly, the answer was not good Natasha.," she lies, and Yelena catches it instantly., "Let's get all of you off the floor and into bed for some rest."

Yelena notices how eager the witch was to get Natasha out of the way, she lets her know as such too when she glares her way but she still hangs back, and waits rather impatiently for the woman to return to the living room.

—

Strucker was amused as he entered your cell to find you humming along to a familiar tune. Your mind was entering a state of delirium he'd been hoping for, the German tune reminiscent of your old Hydra days, and he wondered why it was even a source of comfort for you., "Agent 22, time for you to come with me."

Internally you were cheering, you were playing into whatever game he wanted by appearing fragile, and broken to his preferred specifics. Staying in this room gets you nowhere closer to escaping, and you also knew that no one could track you on the basement floor of the base.

However, as his men hoisted you out of the bed, the first time in a week that you'd been made to move more than from the bed to the toilet directly to your right and back, you could finally feel the extent of your injuries, and you knew you couldn't fight your way out of here.

The burly men groaned as if you weighed ten tons when your legs suddenly gave out, and all your weight was left on them to carry. They let you know of their displeasure too as they were unnecessarily tugging on your injured arms. It was obvious to you that your right shoulder was dislocated in the free fall, while your left was just brutally strained. It was something you expected, because before losing consciousness you remember dangling from an oak tree by the wire of the grappling hook that you had managed to wrap around your hands.

Along with the dislocated shoulder you could feel all the tiny, untreated scratches on your face. They were itchy, and sore, along with all of the other marks you managed to get as the rocks and branches tore through the many layers you'd been previously taunted for wearing. Fortunately nothing too bad had happened to your legs, they're bruised up from hitting all the rock, but other than that they're fine. Having been unfed for over a week is what left you weakened, and thus unable to walk.

The men placed you in a cold, metal chair, and you groaned at the set up, tools of every type laid on a metal tray besides your body, and in front of you a man was setting up a camera. These setups only ever meant one of two things with Hydra, a morbid chance to say goodbye, or a hostage negotiation, that usually ends with a dead hostage, and a dead or captive savior.

"I bet you're wondering what your fate is.," Strucker reappeared before you, hovering and looking down to you with a devilish smirk., "You'll know in due time dearest one.," you shuddered at the old, nauseating nickname. The man smirked wider at your disgust, then he clapped your shoulders for an added bite of pain before moving to face the camera lens.

"Privet Agent Romanoff, and Maximoff.," your heart skipped when he addressed the two most important women in your life., "My beef is not with you Romanoff, but with your wife, and my very special girl Wanda.," the urge to vomit was at an all time high when he referenced her that way., "Sorry to you for destroying your family, but as an old friend of Dreykov's, I'm actually not sorry—call it an eye for an eye, will you?"

"However, I am willing to strike up a deal, I'm not a monster after all.," he feigns sympathy as he blatantly lies to your people, you know damn well that you're a dead woman sitting if they're not strategic enough about this., "If the witch willingly returns to my team, then I'll give you back the useless scraps behind me."

"Don't do it Wanda! You know it's a trap.," a fist connected with your face harshly, your jaw making a crackling noise as your head swung to the side. Blood trickled down your chin, and for a moment silence befell your form, but to all present parties shock you chuckled wildly, lifting your head back up to face them., "What? You think I can't take a punch?," you taunted the man, though your jaw ached intensely you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing., "schwache Hündin.," you spat at the man, blood landing on his cheeks, and in retaliation he head butted you rather harshly, causing you to bite your tongue in more ways than one.

(Weak bitch)

"Feisty as ever I see.," Strucker interrupted the chaos, his hardened gaze on your pained face., "Don't worry dear, the fun is just beginning.," he chuckled before facing the camera again., "Consider this your six hour head start mighty Avengers, that's how long Mrs. Romanoff here has before her life will be completely ended."

—

Wanda is only gone maybe a few minutes, and as soon as she enters the room Yelena's in her face., "Why are you lying to my sister?," Wanda rolls her eyes, not really having the time of day for this., "For my sisters, and her own good.," she brushes right passed the confused blonde and heads straight for the door, but she pauses.

"I-Is Y/N...?," Wanda turns back to glare at her, her eyes phasing into a crimson hue, as tendrils of her magic move across her fingers., "No, and don't even hypothesize such a thing Yelena, might be your dream come true, but it isn't any of ours.," she growls, the low blow of her words not even an afterthought, her mind is only consumed with a need to save you., "That's not fair, we're family now, I-I.," she began to defend herself, but Wanda waved her hand about in quick dismissal.

"Yelena, I do not have time for this, I put her to sleep, the effects will wear off in a few hours, and by the time she wakes up I'll have Y/N."

"Natasha will never forgive you for going without her.," Wanda nods, a slight shrug to follow, with her back to the blonde., "Then so be it, but we both know she's in no condition to fight, and moreover, this is mine and Y/N's battle, no one else's.," she shut the door swiftly, an obvious finality on her chosen words that left the blonde to fall back in an anxious heap on the couch., "So not cool Y/N Romanoff..."

—

Everything in your body hurt, wounds that had only just started to scar over from your fall were ripped wide open again, the men were chuckling darkly with every cry you couldn't suppress, and your will to remain conscious was dwindling fast the more their varying actions went on. Fists of one pummeled into your ribcage leaving you breathless, while a scalpel was teasingly ran over your throat, lightly nicking the skin on occasion to keep you abreast of your looming fate.

Tears fell down your bruised cheeks, mixing with your blood as you gave up the front, the likelihood was that today was the day you died. You weren't crying over the physical pain, you were numb to that after about an hour, no, you were crying for the sake of your little family. Natasha isn't ready to be on her own, not that anyone ever is, but you know for her this'll be a true test to her strength, and though you love her, there's no faith she'd ever recover from the heavy loss. She'd told you almost daily how she couldn't live without you, and though it was a soft statement in the moment, the sentiment was all the same in the end; she meant it.

Eliana, and Jackson have barely just started, and now you've left them in a shattered family. Because there's no way Natasha won't end up resenting Yelena for this happening if it ends bad. It's all a bout of tragic ironic really, all you ever wanted was to fix their problems, and in trying to do so it appears you only made it ten times worse. At least before they were talking, the blonde just hated you, maybe it was selfish of you to want more there.

Had you just let her grow to like you, instead of pushing for a quick resolution, then the family would be intact, and you wouldn't be dying...

Harsh sobs began to rack your body as your most fondest memories ran through your mind all so suddenly. The first time you ever kissed Natasha; it was so vivid that it was if you were reliving it, a smile gracing your face in real time as you remember what it's like to feel her, to taste her lips, and it hurts to know it's over. Then as if to taunt you your mind moves to when she said yes to your marriage proposal, and then through all the many "I love you's.,"

Then the birth of your son plays, and the many moments after that you screen grabbed within your mind of his milestones. Standing out to you most was how Natasha was such a nervous wreck during that time, remembering all the many ways she tried to keep him safe briefly warmed up your freezing body. Memories of your daughters birth and every gummy smile she ever gave you flew through next, and it just left you praying for more; you needed time.

Those sweet little memories of the four of you on the couch, with Natasha rocking Eli to sleep while Jackson and you geeked out over whatever cartoon was on at the time, those were always your favorite nights. Natasha and you took turns gazing lovingly at the other, a sweet little game that always ended in a shared kiss over the slumped bodies of your children.

Once your eyes fly open, as if they were shut against your accord you gasped, the once silver room was decorated crimson, and the woman stood before you was as well., "Wanda.," you sighed in relief, then as your body knew you were safe, you'd slumped into her arms, all the adrenaline now leaving you in your true state. Wanda gently maneuvered you comfortably within her hold, then she flew out the hole in the roof that she'd previously entered through.

A monocle dangled from her hand, a trophy she collected in proof of her success...

—

Natasha woke with a start, hands searching for you, but soon her body shook with the knowing sobs that the lovely dream had ended. Reality was far more bleak for her, but she still softly smiled at the sight of your sleeping children. One against her, the other in her bassinet, and she decided there that she needed to get it together for their sake, you'd want her to do it.

Just as she began to process through some of her grief the door to her room flew open, and an out of breath Clint entered., "We have her."

Natasha stumbled out of the bed, scooping up the sleeping baby, while Clint grabbed a now awake Jackson., "Mama?," he tiredly whined, and Natasha rounded the bed to kiss his cheek, "I'm right here my little love.," she reassured him, once he felt secure in that knowledge he snuggled into Clint, and the duo ran out of the house, speeding passed a confused Yelena.

Once she heard the car tear off she knew what was going on, she smiled to herself at the good news, but then she frowned upon noticing the dullness in the lived in space. Nothing about your place felt right to her now that you were apparently back. She knew from stories told that you absolutely adored the holiday that was Christmas, so she called the men in from the barn, and the three planned out a miracle.

It might be December 30th, the holiday having passed on by without a celebration, but it didn't have to mean that all hope was lost.

—

Natasha ran straight into the infirmary, a sigh of relief left her seeing from afar that the lying little witch was drenched in the blood of her enemies, and with just the briefest glimpse of your hair her anxieties settled. Then she heard your laughter as she got closer, stilling in her move to reach you, she allowed the sound to reverberate around her mind for a moment. Her lip trembling as she never thought she'd hear such an angelic sound again, and with that she was running to get to you once more.

Your head lifted off the pillow when the doors slammed open, and your heart fluttered in your chest at the sight of your beautiful wife running towards you. Her hands shakily held your face, and her lips steadily pressed into yours, the both of you choking back a sob at the touch., "Detka, oh my gosh, I-I can't believe it's you."

"In the tattered flesh.," you teased, and she chuckled at your tasteless joke, then she turned to Wanda with a glare that would scare off the burliest of men, but the witch only winked., "Told you we'd find her.," she held up the cracked monocle, and Natasha beamed at the sight before pulling the gross witch in for a tight embrace., "Thank you.," the witch hugged her tighter at her soft whispers., "Mhm"

"When can she leave?," Natasha asked as she looked at you being healed, her heart wouldn't truly settle until you were in the house she built for you, full of every safety feature she could have ever imagined courtesy of one Tony Stark., "Tomorrow evening.," Cho sounded off from behind., "My cradle can only heal her so much, so the shoulder will take time, but on the bright side Y/N's body is still advanced from her Hydra years, so I anticipate the sling for a week, and with proper physical therapy she'll be good as new in a months time."

"Where are my babies?," you whined, causing the women to giggle at your loopy state., "Sleeping in the old man's lap, I'll bring them in once you're out of this scary contraption.," she offered, you pouted, but even in your loopy state you knew she was right to not bring them in when you looked so scary., "Perfect."

"Yeah, you are.," Natasha whispered against your forehead as her lips laid there, lingering in their place for what felt like an eternity, and if not for the promising future laid out before you  both she'd probably let them linger forever.

——

Natasha was cautious as she settled you into the front seat of the spacious car, even though you'd been cleared by Cho to do so yourself, she wasn't really a fan of not holding onto you., "Ready to go home, moya lyubov'?," her lips pressed to yours after you nodded, and she pulled away with the calmest smile afterwards. As inconspicuously as you could you wiped the sudden tear from underneath her eye, her lips pressed to your palm a in silent thanks, then she finally managed to leave your side, just to resettle down next to you in the drivers seat, her hand holding onto your thigh as she drove.

Wanda was in the back with your smiling kids, and you locked eyes with the witch through the rearview mirror, she didn't have to read your mind to understand what your were saying. She smiled warmly, letting you know that she loved you just the same, you were the sister she never had, but always wanted, and your thanks were unnecessary, but she nodded anyways to acknowledge them, and only then did you relax fully into your seat for the journey back home.

Natasha was in a state of disbelief as she put the car in park, the previously barren house was outwardly decorated for the holidays. Something she herself usually did at the start of the month, but the trip kept her from it, and then the motivation was clearly nonexistent when she didn't have you around to celebrate with. Honestly, she was a bit put off by them at first, they were almost too perfect, resembling that of the finest houses you'd see in movies like The Grinch.

Brightly colored lights were strung across the trimming of your house, a string of faux icicles hung over the stairs, with a sprig of mistletoe nestled in the center of the bright blue lights. Blown up characters in their Christmas attire from Scooby Doo and Winnie the Pooh sat off to the left side of your house in pretty alignments. A perfect layer of snow adorned the ground after last night's storm, giving off a Winter Wonderland vibe. Mini snowmen were built in your family's likeness directly in front of the right bannister, an old crown of Wanda's was placed atop of one of them, making the witch in the backseat cover her mouth as she held back a sob as the notion overwhelmed her.

Natasha was about to gently awaken you, but your sons shrieks beat her to it., "Mommy!," your body jolted forward, you turned to face him but he shook his head, finger pointing away., "Loot! Pretty wites!," your heart soared at the sight of the decorated house, and in a moment of childlike glee you bursted out of the car, ignoring the shiver of your body in favor of appreciating the joyous atmosphere., "Natty! It's Christmas!," you knew it wasn't, that the holiday had passed while you were gone, but you weren't wasting the opportunity to pretend as if it hadn't, you were going to celebrate.

Natasha shook her head in amusement, lightly chuckling as she hastily approached you to pull you into her warmth., "I can see that lyubov'.," her tone was soft, but held an underlying layer of surprise that told you she didn't plan this. Noting the vest over the snowman beside yours you knew exactly who'd orchestrated this, and it warmed your heart to see the complete 180.

Gasps of further shock left both of you as you entered the house, Natasha held Eliana, while Wanda walked in behind you holding Jackson. There was a gorgeous tree in the corner of the living room, with soft white lights to create a calm ambiance, a sparing array of ornaments adorned the sprigs, you smiled when noticing the rest sat in a tattered box besides the tree. Stockings lined the chimney, with a silver garland weaved around the stocking holders.

The grunt of frustration from your right pulled your attention away from the living room. Entering the kitchen you snorted at the sight, Yelena's hair was up in a messy bun, the apron she wore was covered in various powders, she was glaring at the smashed eggs in her hand, and in an instant you were moving to help., "No, Y/N, I got this.," she brushed you off, trying once more to use her good arm to crack the egg into the bowl for the holiday cookies. After another failed attempt you physically bumped her hip, then before she could protest you cracked two eggs simultaneously with your good hand, and her mouth fell open., "How?"

"Years of practice, I've been fixing breakfast with a child on my hip for nearly three years.," you snorted as the blonde just stared at you., "I'll teach you all my tricks one day Lena.," the blonde crashed into you, an overwhelming need to hug you, because after all that had happened you're the only one who's treated her without any malice present., "Thank you for doing this by the way, really lifted my spirits."

"I'm sorry.," she squeaked, causing you to twist about then lift her face to look into her eyes., "This wasn't your fault, it was a battle of my own, and Wanda's. You did your very best, and you deserve to feel the joy of Christmas too.," you booped the younger girls nose in a moment of weakness, her pout was truly adorable, and you've become soft since motherhood., "Go make nice with Natty, and send me Wands."

Wanda entered the kitchen with a knowing smirk, with the snap of her fingers she had an apron on, and Yelena's mess was wiped away., "My forever partner in crime.," you teased the platonic love of your life, and she winked your way before pushing you aside to work at the dough, and you settled on the counter to watch.

You used the leverage to peer into the living area, watching as Natasha allowed Yelena the honors of putting the star on the tree, to which she shared the responsibility with your son. Lifting him up onto her good shoulder, and cheering encouragingly as he finally got it., "Good job Jacky boy.," your wife beamed, and your heart soared when he shot into your wife's open arms without a moment's hesitation like he had done in the past., "Mama! I did it!”

Wanda looked to you with a proud smile, then sent you a knowing look, telling you to go join them, and that she'd handle the cookies, and the fixing of dinner. You settled a kiss to her cheek, then giddily joined your family in the living room, the warm welcome was great, but when Eliana reached for you over Natasha you actually burst into the happiest of tears, then with Natasha’s help you held the sweet little one on your lap on the couch as she babbled.

After your wife and you snuggled on the couch with the littles for awhile she noticed the time., “I’m gonna go get them ready for bed lyubov’, you rest, then we’ll set the holiday mood with a film before their bedtime.,” you were slightly shocked to see the initiative she was taking to keep up their routine, usually she just followed you around, doing as you said, but this newly found confidence was really hot to you, and your wife picked up on your sinful thoughts just by the way you gawked at her in lieu of answering., “We’ll be back shortly.,” she pecked your lips, then scooped both kids up, and left with a knowing smirk upon her face.

Rudolph was put on the TV as soon as Nat returned with squeaky clean babies in their matching reindeer pajamas that you and Nat also planned to wear to bed tonight. Wanda joined the lot of you with floating bowls full of paprikash, beverages for all and a plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies that you sneakily ate one of before even touching your dinner.

Eliana fell asleep within five minutes of having her warm bottle, and you relished in the sweet, warm feeling that enveloped your whole body as she snuggled even further into your hold. Then you looked over to see your son babbling to your wife, who enthusiastically responded to him, even when he’d said nothing of substance. Even—especially-with the kids swapped out, this was still your favorite form of bonding time, nothing strenuous about it, just loads of giggles and cuddles to warm everyone’s hearts.

—

After you settled the kids in bed, the two of you returned to the living room to ensure it was ready for the “Christmas” morning. Wanda and Natasha set out the cookies and milk, then took over gift wrapping for you and Yelena who were sat on the carpet in focused collaboration. Doing your best as you used your good arms to get the presents settled, but it was nothing if not the ugliest wrapping you’d all ever seen.

Yelena and Wanda eventually said their goodnights as they left to head to your guest bedrooms that were really just their rooms at this point, and just as soon as the space was in perfect order Natasha reached for your hand., "Dance with me?," the way she bit her lip in a fit of nerves filled your heart with nostalgia, the happenings of your first date were much the same; you took her hand, allowing her to gently pull you into her body, and for her to instruct the AI in your space to shuffle Christmas hits.

"I'll be home for Christmas.," Natasha's arms tightened around you., "You can plan on me."

"Please have snow and mistletoe, and presents by the tree.," Natasha cautiously spun you around, light as a feather to not harm your good arm, and you giggled when you landed beneath the mistletoe.,  "Christmas eve will find me, where the love light gleams.,” her lips pressed all over your face before pressing to yours for only but a second, because she was more interested in staring at your face to really solidify to her mind that you were truly here.

“I'll be home for Christmas.," her eyes were shining as they looked into yours, the pain in her heart was melting away right before you., "If only in my dreams.," Natasha's lips crashed to yours, the kiss held passion, but their was no true heat to the lip locking you'd engaged in.

"I'm grateful that my dreams actually came true.," she whispered against your lips, and though you could feel that she was smiling widely, her voice still cracked as she spoke., "YA lyublyu tebya, printsessa.," her lips moved against yours again, her tongue slipping passed your parted lips, as her tears transferred onto your cheeks, but neither of you cared as the salty taste of the careening droplets fell into your open mouths. The overwhelming need to feel one another, to become reacquainted with the other's taste was far too strong to worry about such things., "I love you so much Natty."

"Merry Christmas.," Natasha beams as the clock strikes twelve, you giggle then lean in to kiss her once more., "and a Happy New Year."

———————————

6,947 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 🥹

Happy New Year 🎊

[esther-dot]

Daenerys destroy everything she touches. It’s just INSANE just how much damage and chaos her incompetence, stupidity and entitlement has done to Astapor.

She took the city’s entire defense force, the Unsullied, with her when she left, with no real thought as to what will happen when you leave a power vacuum, and set up a council to govern the city that had absolutely no means to enforce its will or its laws. One of the men on the council is specified as being a “priest,” but since the clergy of the Ghiscari Harpy religion are only ever described as female (the Graces), it seems quite likely, if not outright definite, that she appointed someone to govern a city wherein he had zero cultural, social, religious or political authority.

She doesn’t leave military support to the council she leaves behind to rule and it was overthrown very quickly after she left, and the new king, Cleon, a tyrant, promptly reinstated slavery, kidnapping noble children and attempting to turn them into new Unsullied (this didn’t work, for obvious reasons).

Astapor ends up ridden with disease and famine the minute it falls under siege of the slavery-restoration alliance led by Yunkai, with competing claimants killing each other and trading power until they’re subsequently replaced. Daenerys learns about this once she’s set up in Meereen but doesn’t commit any forces to help, fearing that she’ll lose Meereen if she goes back to Astapor. Meanwhile, the Astapori practice cannibalism by lots and many eventually commit mass suicide. The pale mare plague wipes out a huge number of people (even refugees who make it to Meereen die of it in camps outside the city), and most of the rest are displaced refugees, killed when Yunkai eventually sacks the city, or re-enslaved. By the time Quentyn Martell arrives, it’s functionally ceased to exist. (A lot of people skip over Quentyn’s chapters in the fifth book, and in so doing miss how APPALLING the Astapor situation is.)

Astapor is a ghost town except for dead and dying people and enemy soldiers. A total blood bath. It’s absolutely obliterated, just on a longer timeline than a one-off firebombing.

The criticism of Daenerys’s actions in Astapor is not that she freed the slaves, it’s that after freeing the slaves she just left and abandoned them to their bloody fate. You cannot destroy a city’s government and economy and then walk away. Even if it is a terrible government, with an economy built on slavery, you have to stabilize things afterwards. Daenerys have a responsibility in kickstarting new industries and find a new form of PAID work for these people. And there’s also the fact that Daenerys herself is a slaver but that’s a discussion for another day.

(I know that GRRM has said that his books are not allegories for the Iraq war but the parallels and similarities are truly unsettling.)

Yeah, I’m gonna have to forbid talk about Quentyn. I just got teary eyed at the mere mention of him. 😂 I got attached quick and was horrified by his death. But yes, I agree, it was meant to show us how horrible the situation is. Absolute hell.

I actually thought Martin had compared it to Iraq because I've seen people say that, but you're right. This is the quote I found:

Q: A Dance With Dragons spends quite a lot of time in Essos, which is kind of the analog to Asia and the Middle East in the world the story takes place in, as opposed to Westeros, which seems to owe a lot to Western Europe. When I was reading about Dany, who has become a light-skinned, foreign ruler of an exotic land, it reminded me of The Man Who Would Be King, the Sean Connery and Michael Caine movie that is based on a Rudyard Kipling story. Do you think about these parallels — colonialism, the "white man's burden" — when you're writing? A: I've said many times I don't like thinly disguised allegory, but certain scenes do resonate over time. Other people have made the argument, which is more more contemporary, that it might have resonances with our current misadventures in Afghanistan and Iraq. I'm aware of the parallels, but I'm not trying to slap a coat of paint on the Iraq War and call it fantasy. (link)

I'm not sure how reliable this source is, but I also found this:

Finally, in a stunning revelation, when an audience member put the ridiculous question, “JRR Tolkien strenuously denied that his books were in any way an allegory for World War II, have you ever been accused of writing about climate change by proxy? You know, it being a bit of a thing in your works, the long Winter?” George replied, “No, I haven’t, not until now,” and continued, “Like Tolkien I do not write allegory, at least not intentionally. Obviously you live in the world and you’re affected by the world around you, so some things sink in on some level, but, if I really wanted to write about climate change in the 21st century I’d write a novel about climate change in the 21st century. Sometimes things happen that are hard to believe. You have to remember I’ve been writing these since 1991, in a couple of the recent books Daenerys Targaryen wielding the massive military superiority offered to her by three dragons has taken over a part of the world where the culture and ethos, and the very people are completely alien to her, and she’s having difficulty ruling this land once she conquered it. It did dawn on me when George W Bush started doing the same thing that some people might say, ‘Hmmm, George is commenting on the Iraq War’, but I swear to you I planned Dany’s thing long before George Bush planned the Iraq War, but I think both military adventures may come to the same end, but it’s not allegory.” (link)

This isn't about ASOIAF, but it feels relevant to this ask and some of the other anti Dany asks I've been getting. He said this after he saw Spielberg's War of the Worlds:

I kept thinking of the story as a metaphor for our invasion of Iraq… regular people trying to live their lives and survive as a technologically superior invader comes in and smashes their world all to hell. (That metaphor is very much implicit in the novel. H.G. was talking about the British imperialism of the Victorian Age, of course, not the American imperialism of the 21st century, but one of the strengths of science fiction is its ability to transcend the specifics of time and place and culture and assume new meanings for new audiences). (link)

So, I think just because he didn't have a specific invasion in mind, doesn't mean he wasn't criticizing the result of these actions or the ideology behind it. He writes a lot of material to showcase the horror of war, each generation has one that looms large in their minds, so we naturally relate it to that. He knows this, other writers do this, he as an audience member does it!