#the green ember spoilers

[accidental-spice]

Romance is stored in the "Hey, when you shot at Helmer and me and the arrow went right between us, what were you aiming at?" "Your head."

[meadow-roses]

When you're ready A piece of a fallen sky is too heavy I could be by your side if you let me You don't have to carry it all -When You're Ready, Molly Tuttle

don't get me wrong- I love the green ember a lot. I just think. there was some missed potential in this plot thread driven by personal taste lol

[izvmimi]

ember - izuku x reader

cw: spoilers to the end of the manga. reader with vaguely described quirk. izuku and reader are married. short and sweet. a/n: establishing my own new canon, tyvm.

On an evening out in September, six months after you tie the knot with Izuku Midoriya and three years after Izuku returns to active Pro Hero duty, you find out three crucial things about him.

One, Izuku meant it when he said he loves you possibly more than life itself; two, Izuku might not have lost all of the embers of One for All, after all, and three, Izuku is a fucking idiot.

Your body feels unbelievably rigid as though you were in a car accident, and in a way, you were, and your guts should be strewn all over this sparsely populated street if not for the fact that you’re wrapped up, safe, cocooned in your lover’s protective hold, his back curved over yours, and the truck that should have crushed you both instead is partially crumpled itself at its front end, metal twisting around Izuku’s raised forearm. The two of you are panting heavily, the adrenaline coursing through your veins giving you the sensation of having just run a marathon, and he’s looking at you with frantic eyes, scanning you for safety. That long familiar green spark in the air surges around him like electricity, the glow in his green eyes, fading quickly.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breathlessly, not out of exertion but out of shock.

“I-Izuku, you’re not…”

He still hasn’t realized what has just happened, focusing on the fact that you’re alive and okay and didn’t turn into roadkill right in front of his very eyes. Unwedging his somehow intact forearm from the grille of the truck, he turns his body completely to you, rubbing his hands over your shoulders and down your arms, and helps you rise to your feet. The static feeling emanating from him slips away second by second and your lips wobbles as you’re at a loss for words.

“Are you okay?” he repeats again. He’s patting you over quickly, looking for broken bones, bruised skin, and your mind is still racing, computing what just happened and why you’re still alive.

He shouldn’t have been able to cross that distance so quickly - you were just waving to him from across the street, the road clear when you looked before crossing, and in seconds the vehicle had barreled at full speed out of nowhere; he couldn’t have moved before screaming your name fast enough, maybe years ago when you were both teenagers with impossible superpowers but not now, years later with superhuman gifts dwindled to nothing. 

He couldn’t have, but he did. 

“I-Izuku, the suit… you’re not wearing your suit,” your voice carries shakily, and as you see his eyebrows unscrunch and raise instead in surprise, he turns, and sees the stopped vehicle, the broken glass and distorted metal, a man hurriedly jumping out of the passenger seat and shakily apologizing, and finally his torn jacket sleeve and it occurs to him.

“Oh, fuck, I’m not.”

—

You watch Mei type on her computer, not bothering to try to decipher her thoughts from her facial expressions, knowing full well that she’s never been readable before. Even years after high school you find that this continues to be true, but the blank but friendly and entranced look on her face is somehow pleasant the more you think about it, and you let yourself let out the breath you’ve been holding.

It’s been just a few weeks since the night Izuku’s Quirk - at least some of it - flickered back into life for the first time, and after you’d berated him for using his literal body to shield you from a danger that could have killed you both, you’d taken the time that evening to use your own Quirk to see if something about his body had gone haywire. To both of your surprises, you’d gotten a flicker of something similar to the old him, but unsure and unwilling to get either of your hopes up, you’d decided to consult with Mei and other experts who worked with Quirk pathophysiology and augmentation (a few of which you’d taken courses with yourself years ago), and now you were back in Mei’s laboratory, trying to see if you could get to the bottom of this.

Since then, the following strange things had happened:

You’d dropped a plate and Izuku had dove for it, the wisp of a Blackwhip tendril just brushing it before it ultimately crashed to the ground, the two of you too stunned to speak.

A group of Izuku’s students heckled him as he leaned in to accept your kiss outside UA, and all of you ended up in a purple haze before you knew it.

Izuku’s midday nap on the couch found him face to face with the ceiling when you finally discovered him, and

A sudden unintentional use of Fa Jin made things very interesting in bed.

“I guess my baby’s doing a better job than I thought it would!” Mei grins. You hunch over her screen, while Izuku’s too hooked up to a tangle of wires to get a good view of the screen himself, and she compares Quirk levels from the beginning of the suit’s conception to now, a previously long-standing flat graph with a steadily rising bump. 

“A miracle,” you whisper under your breath.

“I find that personally offensive.” Mei replies, her facial expression lacking the cheek to compare to her statement as she watches Izuku watch you from behind the glass. She presses a button on the intercom; Izuku grins at you while Mei gives him the instructions to try to activate Blackwhip one more time, and you can feel warmed all the way through. 

—

Slowly but surely, over time, the Quirk levels start to recover, and you, Izuku and Mei try your best to keep it under wraps.

Of course, Katsuki finds out with direct questioning, the purple haze event showing up on an anonymous internet forum propelling him to show up at your doorstep and demand personally that Izuku tell him if he got his quirks back or not.

“We’re not sure how permanent this is, Kacchan,” he offers. Katsuki might as well spit on the ground before him in protest but you’re seated in the living room, and even Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight has enough decorum to not make a mess in someone else’s home.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Midoriya!”

“It’s not a lie!” Izuku insists, and he turns his gaze to you for backup which you swiftly provide.

“Listen, we’re not sure yet, and they’ll probably never get back to normal, but he’s doing his best.” Katsuki grimaces, which annoys you further.

“You’ll get your damn rematch, be patient.” you add, rolling your eyes. Katsuki leers, and his partner pats him on the shoulder.

“He’s just excited,” she translates for him, and Katsuki mumbles something about not needing her for translation every time which doesn’t waver her smile one bit.

“Excited to get his ass beat,” you murmur, reaching over to pour her some more tea. Izuku and Katsuki both stare at you, Izuku with nervous concern and Katsuki with irritation, and just like old days, you and Katsuki’s arguing match begins anew. 

—

As the two of you brush your teeth and prepare for bed, you do your nightly routine of checking how strong Izuku's reawakened Quirk is with your hand on his chest, and he presses his free hand over yours.

“You know, my favorite part of this is you’ll finally start to worry less.” He chuckles and squeezes your hand gently.

You let the water run and clear spittle from the sink, and gargle before you answer, your hand still captive by his, then look at him.

“To be honest, I’ll never stop worrying about you, Izuku. Even if you become God.”

But you understand what he means. You’ve had many a nightmare about suit malfunction, only a few of these you’ve shared with him, among other things that have to do with being a Pro Hero in the capacity he insists to be in. This is a small help. 

A small bit of providence.

He expected this answer, lips pulling into a smile as he takes your hand fully and pulls the fingertips to his lips to kiss them. 

“I’m glad that won’t change,” he replies.

Moments later, you’re laid in bed together, and as you both muse on the potentially altering future in quiet, love-flushed cheeks and hands intertwined, he turns to you suddenly.

“There’s one thing I’m still missing,” he says.

Your eyes refocus to him. He’s pensive now, not sad or upset, but thoughtful. You move closer to kiss him on the lips once before nodding for him to continue.

“What are you missing?”

“Danger Sense,” he says.

“But everything else is back,” you reply. He nods, letting his arm drape around your waist.

“Yeah, but I think I liked that one the most.”

You snort lightly. “Not being able to lift a train, or fly, but 'Super Anxiety' was your favorite?”

You’re making light of the issue to keep the mood from getting too heavy, but he frowns, and you frown back, apologetically. 

“Well, ‘Super Anxiety’ made it so that I knew when bad things were about to happen, and often these bad things could involve you.”

He has the tiniest scrunch to his eyebrows, one that in another situation would have compelled you to rub out with your fingertips, but now is not the time to be playful.

You twist your mouth to the side and a few more moments pass between you, before you add:

“I don’t think you need it, though.”

He raises an eyebrow, and you press a kiss to his forehead.

“All this came back because you wanted to protect me,” you remind him. “You moved without thinking, for me, as always, like you knew I needed you. That's better than Danger Sense by far.”

His face softens as he cups yours in his hands. You're thankful that you've reached him.

“Always for you,” he says.

Even if this miracle is transient and despite your best efforts, his quirk levels fall back to normal instead of steadily growing, the love he has for you, and the love you have for him, will never, ever burn out.

[asyliah]

Lucky for you, that's what I like! xiao x f!reader

𐙚 . sum . You just got dumped and thought going into bar and flirt a guy named Xiao is a good idea. <spoiler alert!> It is a good idea.

𐙚 . warnings : Dom Xiao .ᐟ Y/N took the initiative .ᐟ drunk sex .ᐟ creampie .ᐟ plot twist at end .ᐟ unprotective sex .ᐟ Sub xiao at first .ᐟ please tell if there's more

Your boyfriend callously ended your relationship, claiming that he discovered someone else who could better fulfill his desires and be intimate with him. It made your blood boil just to think about his reasons for breaking up were all about fucking sex, and because you don’t want to do it yet because of trust issues. All those sweet words, promises, and futures he said are all gone in the ditch. It was that night you thought of going to a bar just to forget every problem, and maybe finally get another guy. All you ever wanted is to taste the sweet revenge of your now ex-boyfriend that you're not the only one who can pull another one.

You wore that slanted violet dress that had frills on the side, and your legs covered in fish nets. All dolled up, despite being lost in the crowded bar. Hands elegantly resting on the counter, slurring every thought that you could muster while drinking another shot of tequila on your throat. It wasn't your plan to get drunk at the bar, not in this state! You quickly stood up from the bar stool and suddenly tripped from the high stiletto heels you wore.

Someone caught you in his arms, and when you tried to see his face clearly, it suddenly caught your attention. A handsome guy, with green dyed hair with a streak, his hair tied to his side, his bangs almost alluring a mystery, and his ember eyes staring at you in shock.

“Cutie, what’s your name?” you asked him, fingers circling in the hem of his shirt. “X-xiao,” he stuttered. “Are you single? You’re too cute to be not single…”

“I am single..”

That’s all for you to start flirting with him nonstop, poor guy, he only wanted to have a taste of the bar's seasoned cocktail when some cute drunk girl suddenly teased him.

You were asking his name, laughing seductively, everything at once. Yet Xiao didn't try to reject your moves. How can he? He never even had a single girl in his entire life being so touchy or flirty with him, and it felt like a dream in heaven that someone he just met in a bar was all like this. Both of you already took strong shots of alchohol.

You led him into a private room and started to suggest something more than flirting. He felt your lips pressed into his, plump lips lingering in his face while he felt the bitter taste of alcohol on your tongue. Your eyes are hazy, and clouded by judgment as your desire only controls your hidden demons. Xiao keeps trying to hold himself, not giving in to this desire. But how can he when your hands are wandering into his body till to the tight area of his pants, where his cock is already leaking in precum from the arousal? It's been pain ever since he's been trying to receive every tease you get from him and the compliments you showered. Yet Xiao knew you were not sober and trying to tell you that you're drunk and you shouldn't be doing this even though deep in his mind he wanted this to happen. His hard cock already hardened from the images of your naked body under him, completely at his mercy as you took his length like a good girl.

His imagination gone wild from the thought of it. 

Now he is also drunk in lust and the lewd display, putting a show him like a bitch in heat, debauched and so loose of control. Messy hair, lipstick smudge on your lips, and the showy dress that shows your sexy figure make it hard to control. "I want you," you slur into his ears while chuckling. "You're such a cute boy, I wanna eat you whole," you licked your lips.

And you slowly go down in him, taking off the belt and his pants. Taking off every bit of clothes he had, springing his hard cock, erect and a good length for you. It was thick, and girthy, with the tip already leaking angrily––begging to be touched. The ecstasy of your lips in his hard cock going up and down, your tongue doing wonders in every part. His tip being licked with your sly tongue, his cock reaching the back of your throat making him moan in the euphoria at the new feeling he discovered. His hands slithered their way to your head, guiding the pace, till every lock of your hair was gripped tight into his knuckles, taking control. You almost gagged at his rough pace, it was so intense that your eyes teared from the arousal. The groans you made have him spurt into a few bittersweet cum in your mouth. Feeling the cum in your throat made you see stars, as you cleaned off his cock with your mouth. "Are you even a virgin?" He huskily asked in between his breaths, and you looked at him with your eyes fluttering trying to understand his question. "Me.. a virgin.. hehe," you said, licking off the remaining cum in your hands to clean it.

Xiao almost came hearing you were not a virgin, he swear to the Archons.

Seeing the sight of you going down only for him even made Xiao more aroused. Xiao grabbed you in your arms and took the initiative to kiss you so deliriously, not caring if your mouth was from his cock. He doesn't care. All needed was to kiss you badly, suckimg your tongue, and taste you. His hands wander into your breasts, while your hands in his neck hugging him. A small hum in your voice was like a lullaby in his head, and you kissed his neck slowly, giving him hickeys. As you two kiss, driven by the heat, xiao's hand slips in between your legs and tried to play with your clit so slowly. His other hand undresses your top slowly, leaving to expose your erected nipples. Xiao sucked every part of it, and every moan that was left on your lips is addicting like a siren tempting him.

"Fuck me, Xiao. I needed it. I need you," 

“W-wait. I don’t have any condom with me,” Xiao said, his mind still on places. You looked at him with puppy eyes, begging at him. “No need for it, I have a birth control.”

☆

Xiao breathed heavily beneath you, his cock reaching the deepest part of your inside as your pussy sucked his cock whole. The squelching noises in the room are so loud, and the loud moans you create every thrust and grunt he makes you feel. “Does it feel good?” he asked, his tongue licked the tears dripping in your tears. You were too fucked out to answer his question. Fuck, his dick is too good, and for the both of you to be virgins makes it more arousing to you.

Tears stung in your eyes, loving the pleasure he gives you. “Your ex must be so stupid to leave you alone, but it’s okay. It means I can have you *now.” *Xiao moaned in your ears, sucking your neck. “Your mine.” He reveled in the sight of your fucked out expression, your breath staggering trying to take everything from his length.

He softly brushed his “You dont understand how I waited for this moment,” he moaned, and you thought he could see his eyes could form hearts from the way he looked at you like a lovesick. His fingers playing with your swollen clit, and as your pussy clenched tighter in his cock, he moaned in bliss and another hot cum spurted inside of your gummy walls without a warning. Even cumming, he still railed his cock without stopping, forming a white ring in the base. You tried to register what he was trying to say, but you finally have become mindless fucked by him.

Xiao could only chuckle at your state, "Are you feeling that good?" he cooed, you were teasing him several minutes ago and now you're reduced into a babbling mess trying to take his cock. Adjusting his position closer to you as your hands reel him close to kiss another sloppy one.

It was like he knew everything about you.

He rammed another strong thrust into you, causing you to scream. There is nothing you can do but take it his own, you shudder with every thrust he takes. He took note of your expressions. Archons, you'd be the reason for his death, you're too cute. Your pussy is too tight, wet, and a squelching mess as if it was begging to be filled with another drop of his cum.

"X-xiao...more...p please.!" you begged, your nails dug at the back of his skin. Xiao hummed, "More? You want more?" he teased you, his hips grinding and rolling into you, and the tip of his cock hitting at the end of your inner walls as your eyes roll out in pleasure. You keep muttering pleas into him, anything to snap the coiling feeling of your core and just let loose of it all.

With captivating satisfaction in his eyes, he tenderly caressed your face before plunging forcefully into the sofa. "Did you know, I stalked you for years?" he thrust in you with a strong force, making you jump. His words barely register in your ears, but you tried to hear him right when another thrust plunged into you. "I loved you too much, and when I followed you here, all dolled up so pretty while you are broken from a douchebag." Xiao groaned at the thought of it. "Archons, I hate your ex. I am thankful you were the one who took the initiative for me," hearing his confession now made you sober, your clear eyes looked at him dumbfucked from his cock.

"W-what..?" you broke a question and then the knot in your core snapped, your cunt leaking with your juices. Then Xiao followed, his heavy cum overflowing into your swollen and used cunt. Both of you were trying to catch your breath, while his cock still plugged inside of your overstimulated cunt. The feeling of fullness and warmth enveloped inside, especially as it was the first time you had sex.

Xiao keeps kissing you so lovingly, and as your mind becomes clearer from the alcohol, you are uncertain about your feelings. The cutie above you looked possessive as if he was marking his territory in you.

"I love you Y/N♡. I will never ever leave you. "

🧷 @asyliah

[ineylesian]

— INHERITENLY UNJUST DESTINY

AVENTURINE X READER

AO3 | NAVIGATION

WORD COUNT — 900

WARNINGS — slight 2.1 spoilers, lowk angst, word vomit about aventurine’s lack of self esteem, sappy unconditional positive regard, handsy aven bc he’s touch starved, preesetablished relationship

SUMMARY — aventurine does not understand the twist of fate that allows him to stand beside you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — the lack of official aventurine art is making me gnaw at the bars of my enclosure, sloppy headers for now!!

Aventurine isn’t sure how to feel. 

The low hues of noon cast a gentle light upon his gloves, giving light to the sea of shattered stones that lie in his grasp. A sea of dazzling green, torn and fragmented beyond repair.

He’s sure he sees it now, a reflection of the wildly wretched life he’s lived sitting in the palms of his hands. The remnants of the only control he’s managed to retain in his life frail as dust in the winds. SIlent he remains, still as a pound dog that has had its bone ripped away from it. 

It isn’t until he feels the ghost of your hands along his own that Aventurine realizes his heart is racing. You spin him to face you, and his heart lurches at the worry that etches itself upon your features. He fights with narratives in his head that play games of fallacies, yet the scorch of his devotion to you leaves his tongue tied.

Facades are a game that come like second nature to Aventurine, but he swears he will not do to you what he deems business in his schemes. Instead, he pulls at what little honesty remains in the depths of his heart and his breath shutters. 

“Guess I’m back to where I was five years ago.”

The words come out quiet, too soft for his nature and simply small. It’s a confession that makes him wonder how many other pieces of his life will break apart until the whole is severed. There’s a fear that lingers within, bubbling to the surface as he attempts to withdraw from your hold.

Aventurine does not believe that his life holds any meaning with or without the cornerstone. Yet, that title made him seem as if he truly meant something, and without it, what little reign he held over his life disappeared. 

He believes you deserve fire, yet he is no more than an ember flickering on a stoked match. He cannot burn in flames bright enough to keep you.

Silently, he awaits your scold, the reprimand that deems him as worthless as he believes himself to be. A reminder that it was all but a stroke of luck that brought you to him, a trial that has run out as you see him for who he truly is, barren and scared.

His hands shake as you guide them to pour his shattered stone into the box at his feet. Shock etches itself upon his features, and he looks to you with nothing but raw, unparalleled fear as you speak. 

“You will always be the same to me.”

Aventurine does not understand the twist of fate that allows him to stand beside you. Single handedly, you vowed to peer into the wasteland that was his soul, and devoted yourself to his inherently unjust destiny. And, even as his life’s worth is ripped away from him, you love him unchanged.

An insatiable want carves at his soul like a day yearns for night, and Aventurine knows no other place to put his hands but around you in embrace. His hold is tight, as if he imagines that you will fade away if he abandons it. Yet, the weave of your fingers through his hair is enough to tell him that you’re no illusion, a sensation that will cease to disappear as long as he lives.

“Let me see you, Aven.”

Your words flow as lost prayers on the horizon do, and Aventurine retracts his grasp on you, allowing his knees to bring him to the ground. Your hands, gentle as streambeds in the spring, cup his face, running over spilt tears from keeled eyelashes. Instinctively, his hands latch onto your wrists, desperately chasing after your warmth and attempting to sear it into his skin.

Aventurine outwardly sighs as you run your fingers along his jaw, stopping to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind his ear. Although your gaze rocks with the deepest seas of adoration, the child deep within his heart beckons him to gamble with his luck once again. A risk that trails the faint quiver of his lips, as he would utter no such words to any other being in the entire cosmos.

“Will you kiss me?”

Wordlessly, you nod, and Aventurine closes his eyes. The soft touch of your lips quells the troubles that brew within, igniting fire against endless water. His hands fall to his lap, melting in the passion of your touch, and his heart craves to continue beating as if you are the oxygen that fills his lungs. 

He refuses to leave you until there is no air left for him to breathe. Gasping for the vitality of you that runs rampant through his veins, Aventurine tilts his head upward, and your heart flutters at the gentle smile that greets your gaze. Brilliant hues of purple and blue shimmer amidst the night, and his hold on you returns, hands moving to interlock themselves with your own. It’s the same gesture that holds you in the deep of dusk, never waning as lost prayers to the universe whisper behind closed doors. 

The words that follow are never far from you, spinning like soft woven silk that rests in your dreams when he’s away. Your eyes shut as he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, spreading warmth to your cheeks that subdue the chills of frosted wind. In yearn, you wait, reveling in the soft fan of his breath over your skin.

“I love you.”

[trulybetty]

two-pack habit & a motel tan

pairing: lucien flores x f!reader word count: 1,712 warnings: M | spoilers? cigarettes, alcohol, angsty in parts, aside from being noted as having breasts no other descriptions of reader estimated reading time: 7 minutes summary: no matter how hard you try, you find yourself coming back every time ao3: linked

A/N: Honestly, not sure what I'm doing as I know nothing about this movie and character other than those tiny clips from yesterday. I tagged it spoilers, but really this is a stab in the dark, because while writing this, this could have easily been Dieter, so who knows? Hopefully you enjoy this!

two-pack habit & a motel tan.

The room was dark, the only light that came was from the street lights outside. The cheap gaudy curtains disturbed by the forced air from the air conditioner unit swung lazily casting shadows across the green shag carpet. On the small round table beneath the window sat two empty bottles of beer and an overflowing ashtray, a cigarette hung on its lip, its embers still glowing despite being disregarded. The television flickered on a muted late-night talk show, its dull illumination serving only to highlight the lingering haze of smoke in the air. 

Lucien was sprawled out on the creaky bed, barefoot with his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. His dark brown curls were tousled, his dark eyes staring into nothingness as he took another drag from his cigarette. 

The click of the bathroom door opening drew his attention as you walked out, damp hair and wearing an oversized t-shirt that had seen better days, one that you had stuffed in your bag earlier that afternoon on your way out. Lucien’s eyes followed the trail of water droplets that traced your collarbone and disappeared beneath the threadbare and distressed collar of the shirt.

He sat up, patting the space next to him, inviting you to join him on the bed. You hesitated for a moment before relenting, moving across the room and climbing onto the bed knee first.

“Feel better?” He inhaled deeply before turning his head to exhale the smoke from his cigarette, all the while his gaze had followed the line of your bare legs.

You nodded, settling in next to him. He took one more drag of his cigarette before he stubbed it out. Turning back to you, his hand, warm and calloused settled on your thigh just below the hem of your shirt. 

“Don’t know why you bothered to get dressed doll,” his smokey voice intoned as he moved his hand an inch higher, this thumb tracing patterns on your skin as his other hand played with the chain around his neck, running the St. Anthony charm between his fingers out of habit. 

His dark eyes met yours, a playful challenge in their depths. You looked away, your heart pounding in your ears, trying to remember the reasons why you’d said this wasn’t going to originally happen in the first place.

“Luce,” you started, but he cut you off with a laugh that was laced with a tinge of bitterness.

“You’re going to tell me this is a bad idea again, right?” he said cynically as his fingers continued to draw meaningless shapes on your skin. 

He leaned back against the worn headboard, pulling you with him and over to straddle his waist.

“You know it is,” you murmured but made no move to escape his grip, your hands instinctively settling on his chest. His heart beating rapidly beneath your touch, echoing the beat of your own. 

He raised his eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, “Yeah, but we’re not exactly known for making good decisions now are we?” His fingers slipped beneath the hem of the oversized shirt, making your breath hitch in your chest. His fingers not finding the material of your panties at your hips he gave you an almost smug impressed look, “Well, this is certainly a surprise.”

You couldn’t help the smirk on your lips as you leant down, yours meeting his. The lack of underwear had been a conscious one despite your reservations about even being in that motel room, to begin with. He let out a low groan into your mouth, as his fingers traced a path up your side. His thumb brushed the underside of your breast, causing you to gasp. He laughed, a deep warm sound that vibrated against your lips.

You tanged your fingers in his already tousled curls as his traced their way back down your sides, his hands cupping your bare hips. The feel of the denim of his jeans licked at your core and you couldn’t ignore the surge of desire that pooled in your belly. The scent of his cigarettes on the air, intertwined with the taste on his lips, unspoken promises hung heavy between the two of you, your hips buckled in an all too familiar motion seeking release.

His lips moved from yours, tracing a fiery path over your jaw and down your neck. You tilted your head back, allowing him better access as he trailed hot open-mouthed kisses over your skin.

“Jesus, you are so—” he sucked in a breath as your fingers with reluctance left his hair and slid underneath the barely buttoned-up silk shirt, your nails dragging up his torso to his chest, “maddening,” he murmured when he found his voice.

“I could say the same about you,” you retorted as you pulled his shirt up and over his head.

When you got his text that afternoon you knew where it would lead, it was an all too familiar path you couldn’t help but revisit again and again. For all his flaws, Lucien was a magnet that drew you in, each time harder than before.

His chest bared, the dim light from the nightstand lamp cast a soft glow between the two of you. Your fingers traced the fine outline of the chains around his neck until they reached the pendant that lay below the hollow of his throat. As you looked at St. Anthony, the irony was not lost on you. He was the patron saint of those who were lost, and here he was standing between you and the man who you continuously found yourself drawn back to, despite your many attempts to distance yourself from him altogether.

His lips found yours again, his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, teasing as you tried to go in for another kiss. His hand snaked up your back, coming to rest at your neck, his thumb massaging your nape. His thumb pressed in just the right spot that managed to undo you and have you mewing in response. He grinned with the knowledge that he knew your body better than anyone else ever could, better perhaps even than you knew yourself.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice husky as he toyed with the hem of the shirt you were wearing. “Tell me you want this,” he lifted your shirt, pushing it up to your chest before you took over and pulled it over your head. His brown eyes appeared even darker with his pupils blown wide with anticipation.

“I want this,” you said meeting his gaze, your voice barely above a whisper before in one swift movement he rolled you onto your back. 

His hands roamed your body freely now, tracing all too familiar patterns they knew so well; the curve of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the softness of your thighs.

As his lips met yours once more, your fingers traced the waistband of his jeans making short work of the button and fly. He groaned when you freed him from the confines of the denim, taking your time to run your hand appreciatively up and down his length, a low, throaty sound that made your heart skip a beat.

You knew that this should be the last time, but you weren’t trying to fool yourself. You knew there’d be another. It was a constant push and pull between the two of you that was years in at this point. There’d be no way the two of you could make a relationship out of what fractured pieces this already was, but you knew the minute he’d call, you’d come running. You knew it and he knew it, and as his warmth enveloped you, you couldn’t find it in your heart to care.

[azsazz]

Bloody Knuckles and the Songs of Death (Part 2)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is everything that Azriel is not. Opposite feelings but equal death in the end.

AKA: Half a rewrite of chapters 43-47 of ACOWAR where reader is now there as part of the Autumn Court, excited to meet Azriel. The other half are my own ideas.

Warnings: Major themes of death, ACOWAR spoilers, blood, gore, mentions of abuse, smut.

Word Count: 3,991

(Part One)

_________________________________________

Absolute silence. Absolute stillness.

The tremor of magic slides through the room as shield after shield locks into place around each High Lord and their retinues. A wave of heat flashes across your face as even Beron’s protective shields come out, and something exciting stirs in your chest because of it. The power flitting through the room weighs heavy on everyone’s shoulders, their faces solemn as they look between each other wearily, sizing each other up, but your lips twitch, itching to break out into a grin.

You can almost smell the bloodshed waiting to happen.

You can’t help but watch how the Night Court participants react to Tamlin’s arrival. Rhysand’s face is set into that well-practiced bored look that Eris had told you about. You can practically feel the dark power rippling beneath his skin.

Feyre tries to school her face into the same cold caution her elder sister wears, but she fails so miserably your laugh nearly slips. Not even the daggers the shadowsinger shoots you has your smile faltering, and you lean in a little closer to Eris beside you, if only to play the part you knew so well as you dismiss him, feeling the embers of Beron’s eyes following your every move. At the sight of the vague distaste on Mor’s face, you’re on the edge of your seat.

Feyre’s discomfort is palpable in the large room that has suddenly shrunk three sizes since the arrival of the missing High Lord. Your attention returns to Tamlin, his gleaming green eyes fixed solely on the new High Lady of Night and her mate.

He smiles broadly, his sharp teeth white as crow-picked bones, the kind that can rip through flesh with the ease of the freshly-sharpened blade at your side, the kind that can land a killing blow with one well placed bite. A shiver slides up your spine at the thought of Tamlin slaughtering someone with those wolfish teeth.

Thesean rises from his lush chair as if to greet the tardy male. His captain remains seated beside him with a hand on his sword.

“We were not expecting you, Tamlin.” Thesean gestures beside him towards his cringing attendants. “Fetch the High Lord a chair.”

Tamlin doesn’t acknowledge Thesean, instead, his eyes stay locked on Feyre and her courtiers.

Something in his smile changes, turning more subdued. You can see clearly the effect it has on Feyre, the way she stiffens under his unfaltering eyes, turning more and more vicious the longer he looks.

He’s clad in a green tunic, the color of full grasses you’d only seen once. He dons no crown, no adornments that show off his wealth like many of the other High Lords. Eris twists his thick gold ring around his first finger, a circlet of leaves that make up his family crest, his only true show of wealth.

Beron is the one who breaks the tense silence and you refrain from rolling your eyes, knowing what punishment it will catch you if he notices.

You still hadn’t fully recovered from his last disciplinary action.

Azriel’s brows furrow in your direction as you shift uncomfortably in your chair, fingers brushing over your sleeve where the mark lays. It’s a fleeting brush of his golden gaze as it hardens on the Autumn Lord two seats down from you.

“I will admit, Tamlin, that I am surprised to see you here.”

Still, the High Lord of Spring does not look away from his prey, watching every breath Feyre takes.

Beron continues anyway, “Rumor claims your allegiance now lies elsewhere.”

You have to give it to the asshole High Lord that you’d very much like to put in the ground. He isn’t afraid to ask the real questions, the ones everyone so desperately wants answered but doesn’t dare ask.

Finally, Tamlin’s gaze shifts, not towards the male speaking to him, but to the shining ring on Feyre’s finger. To the dark swirl of ink etched across her hand, flowing beneath the glittering, pale blue sleeve of her gown. It trails up, up, up to the crown of onyx jewels in her hair, glittering in the sunlight.

Nobody moves.

You’d heard of what she’d done to him and his court. The deceptions, the lies, all of it had spread across Prythian like a wildfire, poisonous and all consuming. What she’d done to him in her rage…you would have to agree that the beast keeping her holed up in his mansion deserved nothing less. If the Autumn and Night Court weren’t on such terrible terms, you think you'd actually like to get to know Feyre and become her friend.

The change in Feyre’s stare is evident. Her molten wrath at the memories of what he’d done to her turns her pale gray eyes into something sharp-edged and brittle.

Thesean’s attendants return, hauling a chair between them. They set it between Oakland and Helion’s entourage. Neither look thrilled about it, Oakland trying to smother the look of disgust with his wine glass, but they aren’t stupid enough to physically recoil as Tamlin sits.

The High Lord of Spring says not one word.

Helion waves a scar-flecked hand and your head tilts as you stare at the pink slashes cutting across his dark skin, curious as to how he’d gotten them. If he’d been close to Death when he’d received such an honor.

“Let’s get on with it, then.”

Thesean clears his throat, but no one looks his way.

Not as Tamlin surveys the hand Rhys has resting on Feyre’s knee.

The loathing in the Spring King’s eyes practically simmers.

Everyone in the room braces themselves as he opens his mouth to speak. 

“It would seem congratulations are in order.”

His words are flat–flat yet sharp as the claws he’s hiding beneath his golden skin. 

Feyre says nothing.

Rhys holds Tamlin’s stare. He holds it with a face like ice, and yet utter rage roils beneath it. A cataclysmic rage, surging and writhing around the room, threatening to take everyone out in a single snap.

But Rhys addresses Thesean instead, who has reclaimed his seat, yet seems far from any sort of ease, “We can discuss the matter at hand later.”

Tamlin tacks on calmly, “Don’t stop on my account.”

The light in Rhysand’s eyes gutters, as if a hand of darkness wipes the very stars from his violet gaze. He reclines in his chair, withdrawing his hand from Feyre’s knee to trace idle circles on his seat’s wooden arm. “I am not in the business of discussing our plans with enemies.”

You, along with Helion, across the reflection pool, grin like lions.

“No,” Tamlin replies with equal ease, “You’re just in the business of fucking them.”

The entire Court goes silent.

Cassian, Azriel, and Mor are as still as Death, fury rippling off of them in silent waves, something that has utter delight rushing through your veins. As if Eris can feel your excitement, he places a hand over your knee under the table where no eyes can see, not that anyone is paying the two of you any attention anyway, not while there is something far more interesting to watch.

He squeezes softly in warning. 

Don’t fuck this up.

Whether Tamlin notices the courtier's anger or cares that the three of the deadliest people in the room are contemplating his demise, he doesn't let on.

Your mouth parts slightly to taste the air. It’s all you give yourself for now, the metallic tang of bloodshed waiting to happen. You want to feel that red warmth across your skin, ache for the slickness between your fingers, painting your skin crimson, warm like the Death you love so dear.

Rhysand only shrugs, smiling faintly. “Seems a far less destructive alternative to war.”

“And yet here you are, having started it in the first place.”

The Night Court ruler’s blink is the only sign of his confusion.

A claw slides out of Tamlin’s knuckle.

Kallias tenses, a hand drifting to the arm of Viviane’s chair–as if he’ll throw himself in front of it. Honorable of him. But Tamlin only drags his claw lightly down the carved arm of his own chair. You’re wickedly transported to the thoughts of all of the times you’d done the same with your blade, watching the life drain from your foe’s eyes. Your stare becomes more intense. 

Tamlin smiles at Feyre knowingly, the High Ladies pallor turning white as the motion triggers something within her.

“If you hadn’t stolen my bride away in the night, Rhysand, I would not have been forced to take such drastic measures to get her back.”

Feyre says quietly, “The sun was shining when I left you.”

Your smile hurts.

Green eyes slide to her once more, glazed and foreign. He lets out a low snort, then looks away just as quickly.

Dismissal.

Kallias asks, “Why are you here, Tamlin?”

Tamlin’s claw digs into the wood, puncturing deep even as his voice remains mild. “I bartered access to my lands to get back the woman I love from a sadist who plays with minds as if they are toys. I meant to fight Hybern–to find a way around the bargain I made with the king once she was back. Only Rhysand and his cabal had turned her into one of them. And she delighted in ripping open my territory for Hybern to invade. All for a petty grudge–either her or her…master’s.”

“You don’t get to rewrite the narrative,” Feyre breathes. “You don’t get to spin this to your advantage.”

Tamlin angles his head at Rhys. “When you fuck her, have you ever noticed that little noise she makes right before she climaxes?”

The grin drops from your face.

Feyre’s cheeks are stained red. This isn’t an outright battle, but a steady, careful shredding of her dignity, her credibility. Beron beams and your stomach churns at his delight–while Eris carefully monitors.

Rhys turns his head, looking Feyre over from head to toe. Then back to Tamlin. A storm about to be unleashed.

But it’s Azriel who says, his voice like cold death, “Be careful how you speak about my High Lady.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. Something preens in your chest at his words, at the open threat on his face, bright eyes dark with the shroud of Death itself.

Surprise flashes in Tamlin’s eyes–then vanishes. Vanishes, swallowed by the pure fury as he realizes what that tattoo coating Feyre’s hand is for. “It was not enough to sit at my side, was it?” A hateful smile curls his lips. “You once asked me if you’d be my High Lady, and when I said no…”

A low laugh. “Perhaps I underestimated you. Why serve in my court, when you could rule in his?”

Tamlin finally faces the other gathered High Lords and their retinues. “They peddle tales of defending our land and peace. And yet she came to my lands and laid them bare for Hybern. She took my High Priestess and warped her mind–after she shattered her bones for spite. And if you are asking yourself what happened to that human girl who went Under the Mountain to save us…Look to the male sitting beside her. Ask what he stands to gain–what they stand to gain from this war, or lack of it. Would we fight Hybern, only to find ourselves with a Queen and King of Prythian? She’s proved her ambition–and you saw how he was more than happy to serve Amarantha to remain unscathed.”

You catch Feyre holding back a snarl at the heinous words aimed at her mate.

Rhys releases a dark laugh. “Well played, Tamlin. You’re learning.”

Ire contorts Tamlin’s face at the condescension. But he faces Kallias. “You asked why I’m here? I might ask the same of you.” He jerks his chin at the High Lord of Winter, at Viviane–the few other members of their retinue who remain silent. “You mean to tell me that after Under the Mountain, you can stomach working with him?” A finger flung in Rhysand’s direction.

The silvery glow about Kallias dulls.

Even Viviane seems to dim. “We came here to decide that for ourselves.”

Mor stares at her friend in quiet questioning. Viviane, for the first time since the Night Court had arrived, does not look toward her. Only at her mate.

Rhys says softly to them, to everyone, “I had no involvement in that. None.”

Kallias’s eyes flare like blue flame. “You stood beside her throne while the order was given.”

There isn’t anything anyone can do, except watch Rhys’ golden skin pale. “I tried to stop it.”

“Tell that to the parents of the two dozen younglings she butchered,” Kallias says, and this time you don’t feel that loving caress of Death, you only hurt for the children that had been ripped away from their parents at such a young age. You know that Death herself will take the best care of them, and sometimes not all death can be justified. “That you tried.”

Rhys’ mouth tightens. “There is not one day that passes when I don’t remember it,” he says to Kallias, to Viviane. To their companions. “Not one day.”

“Remembering,” Kallias answers, “Doesn’t bring them back, does it?”

“No,” Rhys says plainly. “No, it doesn’t. And I am now fighting to make sure it never happens again.”

Viviane glances between her husband and Rhys. “I was not present Under the Mountain. But I would hear, High Lord, how you tried to–stop her.” Pain tightens her face. She, too, had been unable to prevent it while she guarded her small slice of territory.

You had heard the whispers of things of what happened during Under the Mountain and snippets of what Eris could choke out, but you had never really believed it to be much truth as it came from the gossipping handmaids of the Autumn Court manor that you were bound to, even while the High Lord and his family were trapped below.

Rhys says nothing.

Beron snorts, the sound makes you cringe. “Finally speechless, Rhysand?”

Feyre’s hand slips to Rhys’ arm. Tamlin marks it, but she doesn’t seem to care. She says to her mate, not bothering to keep her voice down, “I believe you.”

“Says the woman,” Beron counters, and it’s all you can do to not look like you’re a part of their façade as a unified family. “Who gave an innocent girl’s name in her stead–for Amarantha to butcher as well.”

Rhys swallows and Feyre’s grip tightens on his arm.

His voice is rough as he says to Kallias, “When your people rebelled…” And you recall exactly how Winter had rebelled against Amarantha. And the children…that had been Amarantha’s answer. Her punishment for disobedience. “She was furious. She wanted you dead, Kallias.”

Viviane’s face drains of color.

Rhys continues, “I…convinced her that it would serve little purpose.”

“Who knew,” Beron muses, “That a cock could be so persuasive?”

“Father.” Eris’ voice is low with warning. His hand tightens on your knee.

For Cassian, Azriel, Mor, and Feyre fix their gazes upon the High Lord of Autumn. None of them are smiling.

They look as though Eris might become High Lord sooner than he plans.

That flutter kicks up in your stomach again at the lethal looks in their eyes, especially that extra sparkle in Azriel’s.

If only you could help make that happen.

But Rhys goes on to Kallias, “She backed off the idea of killing you. Your rebels were dead–I convinced her it was enough. I thought it was the end of it.” His breathing hitches slightly. “I only found out when you did. I think she viewed my defense of you as a warning sign–she didn’t tell me any of it. And she kept me…confined. I tried to break into the minds of the soldiers she sent, but her damper on my power was too strong to hold them–and it was already done. She…she sent a daemati with them. To…” He falters, but you all know what had happened. The children’s minds–they’d been shattered. Rhys swallows. “I think she wanted you to suspect me. To keep us from ever allying against her.”

What he must have witnessed within those soldiers’ minds…

“Where did she confine you?” The question comes from Viviane, her arms wrapped around her middle.

No one is entirely ready for it when Rhys answers, “Her bedroom.”

His friends do not hide their rage, their grief at the details he’d kept even from them.

“Stories and words,” Tamlin says, lounging in his chair. Your anger flares like the fires of the Court you’ve been chained to for nearly a century. “Is there any proof?”

“Proof–” Cassian snarls, half rising in his seat, his wings starting to flare.

“No,” Rhys cuts in as Mor blocks Cassian with an arm, forcing him to sit. Rhys adds to Kallias, “But I swear it–upon my mate’s life.” His hand rests atop of Feyre’s.

Your stomach whorls at the realization that he must have known what coming here, presenting his front just as they are, would cost him. What he might have to reveal beyond the wings he’s managed to hide so well for so long.

Tamlin rolls his eyes. You can see the utter restraint Feyre has to keep her from lunging for him–from ripping out his eyes in the name of her mate.

But whatever Kallias reads in Rhys’ face, his words…he pins Tamlin with a hard stare as he asks again, “Why are you here, Tamlin?”

A muscle flickers in Tamlin’s jaw. “I am here to help you fight against Hybern.”

“Bullshit,” Cassian mutters, and you silently agree, catching his glowering gaze with a slight nod of your head. His brows twitch into a furrow before he dismisses you, untrusting of the pet so cozied up to Autumn.

Tamlin glares at him. Cassian, folding his wings in neatly as he leans back in his chair once more, offers him a crooked grin in return.

“You will forgive us,” Thesean interrupts gracefully, “If we are doubtful. And hesitant to share any plans.”

“Even when I have information on Hybern’s movements?” 

Silence. Tarquin, across the pool, watches and listens–either because he’s the youngest of them, or perhaps he knows some advantage that lies in letting them battle it out themselves.

Tamlin smiles at Feyre again. “Why do you think I invited them to the house? Into my lands?” He lets out a low snarl, and Rhys tenses in his seat at the sound. “I once told you I would fight against tyranny, against that sort of evil. Did you think you were enough to turn me from that?” His teeth shine white as bone. “It was so easy for you to call me a monster, despite all I did for you, for your family.” A sneer towards Nesta, who is frowning with distaste. “Yet you witnessed all that he did Under the Mountain, and still spread your legs for him. Fitting, I suppose. He whored for Amarantha for decades. Why shouldn’t you be his whore in return?”

“Watch your mouth,” Mor snaps. 

Tamlin ignores her wholly and waves a hand towards Rhysand’s wings. “I sometimes forget–what you are. Have the masks come off now, or is this another ploy?”

“You’re beginning to become tedious, Tamlin,” Helion says, propping his head on a hand. “Take your lovers’ spat elsewhere and let the rest of us discuss this war.”

“You’d be all too happy for war, considering how well you made out in the last one.”

“No one says war can’t be lucrative,” Helion counters. Tamlin’s lip curls in a silent snarl that makes you wonder if he’d gone to Helion to break Feyre’s bargain with Rhys–if Helion had refused.

“Enough,” Kallias says. “We have our opinions on how the conflict with Hybern should be dealt with.” Those glacial eyes harden as he takes in Tamlin again. “Are you here as an ally of Hybern or Prythian?” 

The mocking, hateful gleam fades into granite resolve. “I stand against Hybern.”

“Prove it,” Helion goads.

Tamlin lifts his hand, and a stack of papers appears on the little table beside his chair. “Charts of armies, ammunition, caches of faebane…Everything carefully gleaned these months.”

“Noble as it sounds,” Helion continues, “Who is to say that the information is correct–or that you aren’t Hybern’s agent, trying to mislead us?”

“Who is to say that Rhysand and his cronies are not agents of Hybern, all of this a ruse to get you to yield without realizing it?”

Nesta murmurs, “You can’t be serious.” Mor gives her a look as if to say that he certainly is.

“If we need to ally against Hybern,” Thesean said, “You are doing a good job of convincing us not to band together, Tamlin.”

“I am simply warning you that they might present the guise of honesty and friendship, but the fact remains that he warmed Amarantha’s bed for fifty years, and only worked against her when it seemed the tide was turning. I’m warning you that while he claims his own city was attacked by Hybern, they made off remarkably well–as if they’d been anticipating it. Don’t think he wouldn’t sacrifice a few buildings and lesser faeries to lure you into an alliance, into thinking you had a common enemy. Why is it that only the Night Court got word about the attack on Adriata–and were the only ones to arrive in time to play savior?”

“They received word,” Varian cuts in coolly, “Because I warned them of it.”

Tarquin whips his head to his cousin, brows high with surprise.

“Perhaps you’re working with them, too,” Tamlin said to the Prince of Adriata. “You’re next in line, after all.”

“You’re insane,” Feyre breathes to Tamlin as Varian bares his teeth. “Do you hear what you’re saying?” She points toward Nesta. “Hybern turned my sisters into Fae–after your bitch of a priestess sold them out!”

“Perhaps Ianthe’s mind was already in Rhysand’s thrall. And what a tragedy to remain young and beautiful. You’re a good actress–I’m sure the trait runs in the family.”

Nesta lets out a low laugh. “If you want someone to blame for all of this,” she says to Tamlin, “Perhaps you should first look in the mirror.”

Tamlin snarls at her and your excitement returns. You may see some action after all.

Casisan snarls right back, “Watch it.”

Tamlin looks between Feyre’s sister and Cassian–his gaze lingering on Cassian’s wings, tucked in behind him. Snorts. “Seems like other preferences run in the Archeron family, too.”

Feyre’s power begins to rumble throughout the room–a behemoth rising up, yawning awake.

“What do you want?” She hisses. “An apology? For me to crawl back into your bed and play nice, little wife?”

“Why should I want spoiled goods returned to me?”

Her cheeks flare.

Tamlin growls, “The moment you let him fuck you like an–”

One heartbeat, the poisoned words spew from his mouth–where fangs lengthen.

Then they stop.

Tamlin’s mouth simply stops emitting sounds. He shuts his mouth, opens it–tries again.

No sound, not even a snarl, comes out.

There is no smile on Rhysand’s face, not a glint of that irreverent amusement as he rests his head against the back of his chair. “The gasping-fish look is a good one for you, Tamlin.”

The others, who have been watching with disdain and boredom, now turn to the High Lord of Night. Now possessing a shadow of fear in their eyes as they realize who and what, exactly, sits amongst them.

You can’t help but to smile again. Wicked.

Brethren, and yet not. Tamlin is a High Lord, as powerful as any of them.

Except for the one at Feyre’s side. Rhys is different from them as humans are to Fae. 

They forgot it, sometimes–how deep that well of power goes. What manner of power Rhys bears.

But as Rhysand rips away Tamlin’s ability to speak, they remember.

[brewstersbru]

Another bkdk after the leaks so,,, SPOILERS 🧨🥦 boys need to talk

Part of Katsuki wishes he’d stayed dead. At least, then, he wouldn’t have to watch Izuku struggle through losing a quirk he had worked so goddamn hard to master. That still had so much potential.

And, well, he’s a little tired. He’d done something good. Helpful. Kept Shigaraki’s attention away from the others for a bit. Bought some time.

He did what he could, and it wasn’t enough, and he’d made his peace with that. Dying for Izuku was infinitely easier than living like this. Weak, and injured, and liable to cry at any moment, or stray word.

Izuku needs Katsuki to be strong, and Katsuki is failing him.

There are embers. There’s a spark, a possibility, but Izuku isn’t letting himself hope. Katsuki wishes he would, that he’d stop looking so goddamned sad all the time. His eyes were meant to shine.

The hope is heavy, and it hurts a little, but Katsuki has done much worse for Izuku. To Izuku. So he holds it for him, until he’s ready to pick it up himself. He asks about the embers often, little nudges to remind him that it’s not over, yet. Not if he doesn’t let it be.

Izuku tolerates it, the first few times, but he gets snappy after a while, defensive. Katsuki recognizes himself in it, and wonders when they’d started acting so much like each other. But he keeps on because Izuku had never given up on him, not through years of his terrible attitude. He can do this, at least. At the bare fucking minimum.

His arm heals, slowly, but it still hurts when it rains; his chest, too. No one lets him participate in clean-up or relief efforts until he gets an OK from the doctor. Izuku drifts into himself, pulling back from the class, talking less. Katsuki can only watch as he isolates himself, prepares to leave because he can only believe in a sure thing, not measly embers. Katsuki gets it. Getting his hopes up for nothing would break him. But it seems like he’s already breaking, anyway.

Katsuki has quieted, too, but for medical reasons. Although, after the initial shock, he’s found he likes how his classmates treat him for it. They’re tactful, don’t try to rile him. The anger is still there, but it simmers, and most of it is for himself. Whys and what-ifs, internal beratements for not being man enough to actually talk to Izuku, when the other boy had given so much of himself to make Katsuki good. When he’d saved the fucking world.

Part of him is annoyed at Izuku’s refusal to want something for himself, too busy jumping around to help with relief efforts, clinging to the vestiges of a world he’s already counted himself out of. Makes him grind his teeth at night, ‘til his jaw’s sore.

Everything comes to a head—not on the battlefield, not standing opposite one another in a dying city—in the kitchen. Katsuki wanders in, thinking of the ingredients on his shelf, what he could make from them in bulk enough to feed the leeches, and finds Izuku staring up at a jar just slightly out of reach.

Before Katsuki can speak up, offer to grab it for him while dodging accusations of pity—God, is this what he was like?—Izuku bends his knees, once, twice, and jumps. In a fluid set of movements, the jar is snatched off the shelf and he lands, cat-like, on his feet.

Fa Jin. That had looked exactly like Fa Jin, and Katsuki swears there was something green and crackling around his ankles. He almost wants to laugh- how does Izuku not see it? Instead, he asks, “That was the embers, wasn’t it?”

Izuku startles, but nothing more than a slight flinch of his shoulders acknowledges Katsuki’s presence.

“I told you to stop with that.” He says, voice low. Katsuki shrugs and steps further into the room, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Just telling it like I see it. That looked like Fa Jin.”

Izuku snarls and whirls on him.

“Do you like rubbing it in? Fuck, Bakugo, I thought we were past this.”

‘Bakugo’ hurts. Stings and aches somewhere shallow, close to the surface. But he deserves it. Deserves more than that, really, so he takes it on the chin and lets it roll through him. Katsuki averts his eyes.

“I’m not trying to rub anything in, Izuku. Just wish you’d stop taking this shit lying down. There’s a chance. What happened to the Izuku who only needed that much? Who’d reach out and dig his nails into any scrap of a something?” His voice cracks halfway through. Izuku smiles, but there’s no joy in the expression.

“I don’t know what you want from me. ‘That Izuku’ went to war. He couldn’t save anyone. Maybe he’s realizing he’s not cut out for this.”

Katsuki sneers.

“Cut the shit. You’re scared, I get it, but don’t you ever tell me you don’t want to be a hero. Don’t fucking lie.”

“They’re embers! Just embers!” Izuku laughs, a little hysterically. “I can’t be a hero with a dying quirk.”

He’s tugging at his hair, curling in on himself in a way Katsuki hasn’t seen in years. He hates the look of it on him. Wishes he wasn’t the one making him do it, again. It’s necessary, he tells himself, he needs to hear this. Doesn’t make doing it feel any better.

“Embers become flames if you fan them, if you coax them back. You can still be a hero, you just need to start believing that. Stop stifling yourself!” Katsuki takes a deep, watery breath, stepping forward and clutching at his chest, as if that will push the emotions bubbling up back inside. Stupid tear-ducts, it’s like they’re on a hair-trigger these days. At least with Izuku.

“Stop giving up!” He gasps, gritting his teeth to try and stop himself from crying. It’s pointless, trickles of warmth carve their way down his cheeks, thin and slow.

“Fuck.” He mutters to himself, swiping at his eyes and turning his head. Izuku needs to focus on himself right now, not another pathetic mess of tears.

“Kac-Katsuki.” Izuku stumbles, shell-shocked by the sudden shift. This is exactly what Katsuki didn’t want.

“Fuck off.” He says. “Just- just think about it.”

And without even attempting to check his shelf or start preparing dinner—it can wait an hour or two, until he’s calmed down, until Izuku’s left—he turns to leave the room. They’re not getting anywhere. He’s said what he needs to say and it’s up to Izuku whether or not he’ll listen. As much as he fucking hates it, he can’t do more than that. He’s never been good with words, anyway.

 Just as he makes it to the doorway, something tugs on his wrist. Too thin to be fingers, more like a rope, but not nearly coarse enough for that, either. It’s familiar, very familiar, but he- that can’t be right. He stops in his tracks.

“Kacchan.” Izuku’s breathless voice sounds from behind him, all previous frustration gone from it. Katsuki furrows his brows and turns his head, slightly, enough to see behind him from the corner of his eye.

Izuku is standing a few feet away, hand outstretched towards him. A thin, black ribbon protrudes from his palm, extending to where it’s wrapped tight around Katsuki’s wrist. Blackwhip. It’s the first true sign that Izuku’s quirk is not all lost. They both stare at the line connecting them, but Katsuki’s gaze quickly wanders. He already knew Izuku was capable of this. He looks into the other boy’s eyes, searching for that spark, and he is not disappointed.

A tiny, glinting shine has come back to his irises, highlighting the green ever so slightly into a bright, clear happiness.

“What’d I tell you, nerd.” Katsuki says, just the slightest bit fond. He presses his fingers to the tendril still curled around his wrist. Izuku’s gaze snaps up to him and he grins. Before Katsuki can ask what the look on his face is about, Izuku thrusts his other hand forward and another tendril unfurls, drifting towards Katsuki and wrapping around his waist.  

Izuku then pulls both hands toward himself, hurtling Katsuki towards him at speeds the blond hasn’t felt in far too long. He can’t help the smile creeping onto his lips.

“Thank you.” Izuku whispers, wrapping Katsuki in his arms as soon as he’s in range. Katsuki has to scoff.

“I didn’t do anything.”  

Izuku just squeezes tighter. “I couldn’t do this without you. I don’t know what I’d do if- if I ever had to.”

Now that’s just not at all what they were talking about. Something hot and wriggling awakens in Katsuki’s stomach.

“Fuck off.” Then, taking courage from the fact that he doesn’t have to look in Izuku’s eyes as he says this, “And- I- you did save me. Way before I. Y’know.” It’s choppy, near incomprehensible, but Izuku understands. Before he died.

Something warm and wet drips onto Katsuki’s shoulder. Fucking finally. The crybaby needs it. It’s not platitudes, and Izuku knows better than to accuse Katsuki of something like that. Katsuki only says exactly what he means. And it seemed like Izuku needed to hear it.

Can’t go around thinking every goddamn thing is his fault when it isn’t.

Finally, after a few minutes of unsettlingly quiet crying, Izuku speaks.

“Still. You died because of me. I can’t forget that. It’s the second time you’ve put your life on the line for my sake and I can’t- I don’t think I could handle a third.”

His voice is slow, careful around the words as if he’s thought through them a million times. Katsuki sighs, closing his eyes.

“I’d do it again. Will do it again, if I need to. I’m not going to apologize for that, and I’m not going to promise not to.”

Izuku pulls away, brows furrowed as he steps back to look at Katsuki.

“You can’t just throw your life away-“

“It’s not throwing it away if I’m stepping in for a purpose, shithead.”

Still, Izuku shakes his head.

“It is! I don’t care what you’ve told yourself to justify it, I don’t want you to do that anymore. It scares me.”

Emotions keep bobbing up and down in Katsuki’s chest, like buoys in a storm. He scratches at his elbow, unable to meet Izuku’s eyes. They weren’t here to talk about him. They should be celebrating Izuku’s breakthrough, not wasting time with this.

“Izuku, I told you- it’s fine. It’s my life. I choose what I do with it.”

“But that’s just it, it’s my life, too, shouldn’t I get a say in what happens?”

Katsuki grinds his teeth against each other. Now that he’s not shrouded in gloom, Izuku’s back to being just as stubborn and insufferable as ever.

“That’s not the same. Idiot. You’re going to be the next ‘symbol of peace’ or whatever. Fuckton of potential.”

Izuku tilts his head. “What, and you don’t have potential?”

Katsuki looks away.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re joking. Kacchan-“

“I’m injured. It’ll only get worse with time, Izuku. And my quirk can only do so much. Shigaraki was able to kill me because I wasn’t strong enough. If I keep going like this, I won’t be able to get much stronger before I bite it. Might as well use what I’ve got to do something. Make up for the bullshit. I had a lot of time to think, after our talk in the hospital. I’ve made my peace with a life like that. I think it’s a worthwhile goal, keeping you alive.”

Izuku isn’t speaking, but a new wave of tears has started streaming down his face as he shakes his head, frantically. See, this is what Katsuki was trying to avoid. He only looks like that because Katsuki had opened his big fat mouth and ruined the moment. Fuck. He cringes at himself and is gearing up to switch the conversation to something less catastrophic when Izuku speaks.

“Shut up.” He says, voice ragged. “God, shut up. What happened to being the strongest?” When Katsuki doesn’t answer, he continues, nearly snarling. “You want to make up for your shit? Stay alive, then, asshole. Fuck.” He scrubs at his cheeks, muttering to himself. “Right after I fucking told you I couldn’t live without you?”

Katsuki doesn’t think he’s seen Izuku curse like this, well, ever. Maybe he’s rubbing off on him? All he can do is stare, dumbstruck, trying to parse through the words. It’s not like- he isn’t trying to die, it’s just that if it came down to it, and it was his life or Izuku’s, the choice would be easy, he’d make it in an instant.  

Katsuki scrubs a hand through his hair. “Okay. Alright, let’s drop this-“

But Izuku isn’t having it. “Promise me.”

“I’ll- fucking- do my best.” Is all Katsuki can manage. Izuku watches him for another minute, dubious, before accepting that’s the best he’s going to get.

With a disbelieving laugh, Katsuki straightens, digging the heel of his palms into his eyes.

“Shit. We weren’t supposed to get into all this at once. Just wanted you to get your spine back.”

There’s a warmth against the back of his neck as Izuku pulls him in for another hug. He can’t find it in himself to protest. It’s just the two of them, and he kind of likes it.  

“Thank you, Kacchan.”

The thanks curdles in Katsuki’s gut, unearned and unwanted.

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m enlisting you to help with dinner, now. Since you’re already here.”

Izuku laughs and it feels like fireworks against Katsuki’s ear. He’s missed that sound.

[sarahjtv]

My Hero Academia: Chapter 424 Spoiler Thoughts:

MHA is finally back from break and we have a calm after the storm chapter. Let me put my thought on Tumblr for a bit:

So, let's get this out of the way: Tomura Shigaraki/Tenko Shimura is dead. Like, DEAD, dead. Unless Kohei Horikoshi pulls the rug under us, I think he's made it clear that Tenko's not coming back. Those last 2 pages were it for his conclusion. He did add one more panel of Shiggy and some dialogue from Deku to say that maybe Deku really did "save" Tenko, but that's all we got. I'm still unsure how to feel about this, but I appreciate Horikoshi giving Tenko a bit more of a conclusion after the last chapter. But, the story isn't over yet, so we'll see if he's mentioned again.

Bakugo's parts were the best parts of this chapter. I'm glad to see him alive and well after everything (I highly doubt Horikoshi would keep him dead again anyway) and that his parents are there for him (Mitsuki yelling at him was funny ngl). Sucks that his right arm will never fully recover, but maybe that rehab will help him get to a good enough place. Also, his moments with Deku and All Might were incredibly sweet and a great conclusion to their little storyline. Seeing Bakugo genuinely tear up and look back on his and Deku's relationship throughout the years honestly moved me because it shows how far this young man has come (the artwork on his face is so good btw; Horikoshi has always been great at expressions in particular). Katsuki Bakugo's character development is one of my favorites in the series and he deserves #1 in every character poll he gets.

EDIT: OH, BAKUGO'S CRYING OVER DEKU BEING QUIRKLESS AGAIN AFTER THE EMBERS BURN OUT ONE DAY I'M GOING TO FUCKING CRY WHAT THE FUCK 😭

Deku continues to be Deku till the very end. I loved Izuku nerding out about how he gets to share a hospital room with All Might because of course he would. It's also nice to hear that A.) All Might reassures Deku that even though he doesn't feel like he saved Tenko because Tenko died, he still might have in the end and B.) Deku still has the embers of One For All which doesn't make him Quirkless. I assume this means that Deku is basically back at the start when he first got OFA. I'm sure his strength is still there at least, but it's probably not nearly as powerful as it was in the final battle.

Also, Deku's haircut 😭! I know they had to do it because it got messed up in the final battle and surgery, but please let his hair grow again before the manga ends, Horikoshi! I want his cute, bushy green hair back! There's also a scar on his right cheek covering his cute freckles I can't. His eyeball popping out of his socket when he sees Kacchan cry was hilarious, though 😂

All Might also telling Deku and Bakugo that they're the greatest heroes to him and everyone else is a really nice full circle on their initial dreams when the story started.

And then there are the two panels we get of Shoto and Ochako. I assume we'll touch on their epilogues next chapter, but I'm curious how they're doing because Ochako looks solemn and we don't even see Shoto's face because his back is turned to us in a dark light. I bet they're reflecting on what happened to Toga and Dabi respectively. We're still not sure if either of them really died, so it's a coin flip as to whether they did or not. There's also Shoto's whole family situation that needs tying up which is a whole other can of worms. I really hope this gets covered in the next chapter.

Finally, we see Deku and the others returning to UA which is currently being rebuilt. I'm guessing we'll see how everyone else is doing post-war too either in the next chapter or later. While we need to cover the main 4 (Izuku, Bakugo, Shoto, and Ochako), we also need to see how everyone else is doing because they weren't the only ones affected by the war. Everyone has battle scars of some kind.

And while the chapter is called "Epilogue", it's not over yet. We clearly have more story to cover and bows to tie as neatly as possible. Horikoshi can't please everyone (no one can, really), but I can tell that he's doing his best and that he still genuinely cares about his story after nearly 10 years. I'd say we have the rest of June at least and the end of summer at most until MHA finally ends. This was a really nice "wrap-up" chapter and we have more to go until the end. Despite its flaws, My Hero Academia is still peak fiction to me and some of the parts in this chapter cement that. It will always have a special place in my heart. I will be sad to see this series go, but I will be there until the end.

EDIT: I just saw Horikoshi's comment this week and it basically confirms that we have more story to come. He doesn't say how many chapter but he says "I'll keep going for a little while" and that we're returning to school life; the "Academia" part of the story. I'm really glad he's not rushing the conclusion because there's a lot of stories and characters to give finales to. I'm also really curious to see how school life is post-war, so I'm glad that'll be explored.

[ariadnethedragon]

HOFAS thoughts as I read it: (SPOILERS below)

All that t*rture in the dungeons, Ruhn’s piercing and tattoos. Baxian’s tattoo. The wings. “How strong is your bite?” Sarahhhhh!!!!! Stop! That was more than I could handle😫

The Middengard Wyrm😖. Nesta dealt with it brilliantly but it just makes you appreciate how impossible it was that human Feyre managed to kill this thing by herself with no decent weapons.

Azriel hugging Nesta and stroking her hair after she took the Mask off🥺

Bryce’s wallpaper being Hunt and the photo of her friends in the phone case—that made me tear up

Imagining the inner circle all surrounding Bryce’s phone trying to figure out how it works is hilarious. Also Nesta being jealous of Bryce’s music collection, “THOUSAND?”

The nightbright angst KILLED me💔💔💔

Hunt just dreaming of Bryce. She’s the only thing pulling him through, “He’d wanted so many things with her. A normal, happy life. Children.” HE BETTER GET EVERY SINGLE ONE IF THOSE THINGS OR HANDS WILL BE THROWN!

Silene. The Daglan. My theories were true😁😁

Sigrid. I had so much hope for her story but I was disappointed. Hopefully it’ll get better

Ariadne!! I wanted to see more of her😕

Ruhn’s bedroom. The burn cream😭😭😭

Lidia FUCKING Cervos. That breakout scene. Magnificent.

Jesiba and Ithan’s dynamic. Librarian Ithan and the fact that Jesiba is a Parthos priestess!!! Also JellyJubilee being the computer password😂

Bryce using the mating bond to teleport to Hunt😭😭😭

Bran and Ace. Lidia giving them her ruby ring for tuition as a goodbye💔

Hunt and Bryce got married?!!! WHEN?

Cloudberry crown sounds funny idk why

If I had a penny every time SJM included a set of unhinged/partly unhinged fae twins (yes connall I’m looking at you) in her series, I’d have three pennies bc it happens every single time

So the astronomer is basically a Voldemort 2.0

Flynn and dec going crazy for waffles on the mer ship

“I never had anyone fight for me” Oh Lidia my love😭😭

Guess I’m shipping Tharion and Sathia now🤷‍♀️

Lidia being turned on by Ruhn lighting a fire—girl, I get it.

“Because I’m yours, Day. I’m fucking yours.” Screaming crying throwing up

Lidia: “I want you all the time”😭😭😭😭😭😭😩😩😩😩💗💗💗

Idk why but I am disappointed in the Autumn King, I thought there would be some redemption for him for some reason

Ruhn: “I am going to live and I am going to live well without you”😭😭

Bryce was always a queen but now she a queen Queen👀

Avallen becoming all green again.

Hunt being a demonic test tube baby😂😂

Dec being the first to look for service. Typical😂

Ithan x Perry???? Cinnamon and strawberry? I start getting suspicious when they notice all the nuances of that person’s scent. I think they’d be cute though

Nooooo, the prime—I keep thinking of him as master oogway from king fu panda and it makes me sad

Sabines finally dead🥳🥳

Ithan is prime now? Okay okay pop offf!!

Hunt finally breaking free of his halo and freeing Isaiah as well❤️

Is the under king from the ToG universe??? Valg??

Connor💔💔💔😭😭😭 The bullet. Memento mori

Sathia and Colin McCarthy. This will be interesting

Commando Hunt. The underwear was too small🤭🫨🫨

Morven guest room having red lace thongs😂😂

Okay tharion and sathia are really growing on me🥰🥰🥰

‘She’s my mate you fucker’ SCREAAMMING

Ace finally calling Lidia Mom😭❤️

Lidia is the descendant of Brannon. The fire, the hind/sacred stag. OH MY GOODNESS!!!!!

Pollux being incinerated☺️☺️☺️

The sprites and Irithys💗

The kill switch, the godslayer rifle. Bryce just blackholing the Asteri. She is so brilliant and cunning and clever and I love her.

Danika and the pack. Light it up Bryce. I SOBBED

Jesiba crying and then her sacrifice😭😭😭💔💔

Ember and Randal going to Prythian. Randal bonding with Rhys but more importantly Ember and Nesta—I want to cryyyy🥹🥹🥹

Starsword/Gwydion back in Prythian…whats going to happen in ACOTAR 5???

The princes of Hel—you gotta love em

Lidia and Ruhn finally having that beer

Flynn x Perry? Jealous Ithan😏

Syrinx running for his life when Hunt and Bryce share a heated look. It’s nothing new but it cracks me up all the time

Pegasuses in Avallen🥰🥰

[stealingyourbones]

DPXDC Playlist Masterpost

DeadOnMain (Jason/Danny)

Dead Serious (Damian/Danny)

Chaotic Spirits (Danny/Klarion)

Deadly Spark (Billy & Danny)

Clone Wars (Dani/Connor)

Brain Dead (Tim/Danny)

Ghost Circus (Danny/Dick)

Anger Management (Jason/Jazz) (Pt 2)

Super Brain Dead (Connor/Danny/Tim)

Cold Currents (Kaldur’ahm/Danny)

NightBirds (Dick/Jazz)

Everlasting Insomniacs (Danny/Sam/Tucker/Tim)

Spirit Halloween (Danny/Bruce)

Conclusion Jumping (Jimmy/Wes)

Shway Spirits (Danny/Terry)

Green Thumb (Cassandra/Sam)

Constant Death (Dan/Constantine)

Bad Blood (Dan/Jason)

Coffee Creamer (Dash/Tim)

King Kon (Danny/Constantine)

Multi Level Marketing (Vlad/Lex)

Last Suns (Clark/Danny)

Sure Shot (Roy/Jason/Danny)

Brain Fried (Danny/Wally)

Caustic Claws (Selina/Maddie)

Literacy (Lancer/Clark)

Predators (Lex/Skulker)

Spoiler Zone (Stephanie/Dani)

Bat Out of Hell (Kitty/Jonny 13/Jason)

Bonfire (Ember/Firestorm)

Nine Lives (Catwoman/Clockwork)

Dead Silent (Cass/Danny)

Lavender Lace (Cass/Sam/Steph)

Tech Support (Tucker/Roy)

Deadlight (Duke/Danny)

[mcgnagallsarmy]

Spuffy style Reading Challenge - #28: Alphabet Soup Challenge #2

A:

At Ease by The Danish Bird [NC-17]

Even with her eyes closed, Buffy would recognise this place in a second, and for a moment she wondered if she truly had ended up in a hell dimension this time. One that had doomed her to an eternity of Doublemeat Palace workdays. Buffy felt her lips moving, heard her own voice speaking, and as she opened her eyes she decided that a hell dimension definitely wasn’t ruled out just yet. “Welcome to the Doublemeat Palace, how may I help – “ She stared into Riley’s scarred face as she completed her sentence. “– you.” Her mom, Sunnydale, her home, Spike – There are many things Buffy misses in her life, but if she had gotten the choice to revisit a day that had already passed, this would so not be it!

B:

The Bad Penny by OffYourBird [R]

Six years ago, Buffy made a home in a new dimension with a Spike who defied every rule to be by her side. Now it’s time to put to rest unfinished business in her original dimension. However, a visit there quickly turns apocalyptic, and at the heart of it is the two vampires who set Buffy's original journey in motion, and both of them have a lot of explaining to do.

C:

Christmas Date by bewildered [NC-17]

Christmas Eve in Cleveland, 2004. Holiday request from Dark. Squeaking it in for the end of the Christmas Season. (It's only the 9th day of Christmas! That counts!)

D:

Drive by Holly [NC-17]

Freshly turned and very grumpy about it, Buffy finds herself in a weird place. One where her friends smell like food, her former mortal enemy smells like heaven, and the so-called love of her life has made it clear that killing her is on his to-do list. Throw in some overly zealous army guys and this is not Buffy's idea of a party. So she and Spike decide to hit the road at least long enough to figure out why neither of them can hit anything else. And since they're both single and free, well, Buffy wouldn't say no to a distraction from the never-ending laugh riot that is her life. And Spike can be very, very distracting. Good thing soulless vampires can't fall in love or she might be in trouble.

E:

Embers by Dusty [NC-17]

Spike's the best boyfriend. He fulfills all of Buffy's fantasies. All of them.

F:

Favor by EllieRose101 [NC-17]

Spike asks an impossible thing of Buffy––and is stunned when she says yes. Could he really have gone up in her estimation?

G:

Golden Hour by kennedynoelle [R]

Response to a challenge set by emilise: Spike never came to Sunnydale during the first few seasons. The first time Buffy sees him is during The Harsh Light of Day, sunbathing on campus adorned with the Gem of Amara. Oh no, she thinks, the pit of her stomach dropping and sending tinglies all over, he's hot. They start dating, Buffy unaware that her new boyfriend is a member of the undead. Of course, she has to find out eventually…

H:

The Halloween Series by spike_spetslayer [NC-17]

Buffy and Spike make an unbreakable pact during their first real confrontation in Season 2. Story includes spoilers from season 2 through season 7.

I:

If I Loved You Less by MillennialCryBaby [NC-17]

How long had Spike been gone? 147 days. 148 at midnight. Except maybe today won't count?

J:

Just to Reach You by Sunalso [R]

Post-Series. Spike and Buffy have been a couple for almost two years. The honeymoon is over and together they're discovering they still have a lot to learn about themselves, each other, and how this whole "normal" relationship thing works.

K:

Kaleidoscope by Lirazel [PG-13]

"Can you tell me, is this love that I'm seeing?" One by one, the people in Buffy and Spike's lives try to add up the obvious.

L:

Let it Burn! by Axell [Adult Only]

Her eyes followed the blood. Summers blood. She counted the drops. Ten. Then it stopped. If Dawn dies, I’m through. I don’t want to live in a world if these are the choices. Slowly, her head rose up. Their eyes met. Green and amber. A look passed between them then a nod. Her own voice echoed into her mind. I’m counting on you. To avenge her. Us. He made a promise. Until dusk will swallow them all.

M:

Melting Fire by Freecat [R]

Set right after Dead Things. The night after, all he wants is talk. The night after, there’s nothing she wants less than talking. And suddenly they find themselves in another dimension; one that Buffy can’t leave. There’s only one way to get her out. A way with consequences.

N:

Night Swimming by Geliot99 [R]

An unexpected heatwave in mid-March is reason enough for an impromptu pool party for the Scoobies. But when Richard takes a second stab* at winning Buffy's affections, Spike is all too keen to show her how much fun night swimming with a vampire can really be… *see what I did there? Set between 'Older and Far Away' and 'As You Were'

O:

One Step Away by violettathepiratequeen [PG]

Spike knows the way she dances. Not even Faith in Buffy's body can fool him.

P:

Pardon My French by Girlytek [R]

In retrospect, it was probably a bad idea to let Buffy perform a spell in French. Begins at No Place Like Home.

Q:

Quake by Holly [NC-17]

Following Tutor. Riley's kiss did nothing for her, which clearly means her night with Spike didn't take. But since the world is probably ending, Buffy decides one more lesson couldn't hurt.

R:

Rock Solid by Passion4Spike [NC-17]

Buffy comes to some realizations about herself, the nature of her love, and her feelings for Spike on the eve of the biggest fight of her life, but will it be too little, too late? Spoiler Alert: No, it won’t.

S:

Something Blue's Clues by cawthraven [PG-13]

Willow is just fed up with the way Buffy and Spike act around each other. What are they, five?

T:

Timelines,Schmimelines by bookishy [NC-17]

When Buffy’s sent back to her first year of college to retrieve an artifact for the future, she ends up on the day of the first inaugural Christmas Party at Casa del Xander. Or, time travel meets its greatest match, and that match is alcohol.

U:

Under The Influence by NautiBitz [NC-17]

A few nights after their engagement spell, Buffy has to watch Spike. Problem is, a psychedelic demon may have just spritzed her with a mind-altering substance. Will Spike seize the moment? Or will they just end up naked? HMMM.

V:

Vampire In Charcoal by Geliot99 [NC-17]

Hiring out her mother's art gallery for classes had been a stroke of genius, but when the life model for the upcoming class comes down with the flu and an extremely unsuitable replacement is found last minute, Buffy is faced with a lot more of her nemesis than she was ever anticipating.

W:

where the shadow ends by disco-tea [R]

For 147 days, Spike and Dawn grieve Buffy. This is a story of a vampire and a Key who try to cope with the loss of the one person who meant the most to them…and how they became a family along the way.

X:

Xerox by Holly [R]

Spike and Buffy leave Angel a parting gift.

Y:

You Learn by bramcrackers [Adult Only]

When Buffy learns about Angel’s history with Drusilla, she can’t ignore how he seems to keep everything about his past to himself unless forced. How can she love someone she doesn’t even know? A trip to a local mage later, she’s plunged headfirst into Angel’s entire sordid history in a series of visions. And dealing with all of that would have been a hell of a lot easier if Spike hadn’t somehow been pulled into it, happy to add the color commentary.

Z:

Zero by kantayra [NC-17]

Trapped together in an icy prison, Buffy and Spike find one way to turn up the heat.

[meadow-roses]

SMALLS!!! he's a great little guy who does not commit war crimes (long speeches before meals)

[amomentoftimeandword]

WHEN I TELL YOU THAT I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT DISNEY'S ELEMENTAL💧🔥 OH MY GOD!!🥹😭❤️

^^ Literally this was me throughout the ENTIRE movie!! Plus a side of this -> 😭

The gif doesn't do it justice, but the animation was absolutely stunning!! The attention to detail!! The way the creators used science to not only personify the elements, but also made them accurate in how they react to each other!? Beautiful!! 🥹 So well done!!

Just LOOK at how beautiful this one snippet from the movie is!! This is a beautiful flower that blooms in her presence (if you haven't seen the movie, you can't understand the significance of said flower and how impactful the scene really is but ugh my heart!🔥)

Again, the DETAILS!! What I kept noticing was the preferred clothing choices worn by Ember and Wade, they are suited to the elements that they are and if that doesn't show how much thought went into this movie!! 🙌

If you've made it this far in my post and have not seen this movie yet... WARNING **SPOILERS BELOW**

Seriously, don't click play on the video, or read below it, if you plan to watch the movie!!

THIS WHOLE SCENE RIGHT HERE IS MY FAVORITE FROM THE WHOLE MOVIE!!!! Ember overcame her fear because Wade trusted her and was willing to risk it all!! When they realize that they CAN work, this was me -> 🫠😭🥹 SO F*CKING BEAUTIFUL!!!!! Wade's water is able to tempur Ember's fire, which is why, against all the odds, they are able to touch!! If your heart didn't brighten in their small moment of happiness... well you're wrong (Not really, not everyone likes the same thing, but come one🥹).

Wade is absolute boyfriend material and the greenest of any green flag I've ever seen in a movie!! So so sweet!! Elemental is one of the best animated films I've seen in AWHILE!! Kudos to the directors and producers of this gorgeous film about how love can overcome impossible odds!!🔥💧❤️🥰🫠

[ouchoofmyankle]

Thoughts on All For One being Izuku's dad.

*MILD SPOILERS AHEAD*

I'll be honest I was fully convinced this theory would come to fruition in one way or another (Izukus dad never being around, "Hisashi" meaning a long time ago, the parallels between the first OFA user and Izuku, etc.) so I was a little disappointed it ended up not being true, especially considering the closure it would bring to the OFA AFO quirks with the bloodline coming full circle within Deku. I'm bringing this up though because I wanted to share one of my main ideas of why/how AFO could have been Izukus dad---pre-All Might battle AFO realized that he would never be able to get OFA himself (It would never willingly be given to him and trying to steal it was out of the question) and that instead he needed somebody else to get it for him. And the only way they would be able to get it is if it were passed onto them willingly. He needed a hero. He could have found a budding hero, or anybody really, and manipulated them into a position where they would be given AFO, but this was his brothers quirk he was trying to take back. He wanted to get it as close to him as possible. Back to the Shigarki bloodline. So he started looking at different female hero's. The ones that were good enough for his standards rejected him. They said something about him unsettled them. He wasn't actively looking the day he found her. He was eating at a restaurant when he heard a man several tables down loudly reprimand a server. He called her "Stupid!" and "Insolent!" and "Bitch!" She stood up and called out "Leave her alone!" Their was determination in her eyes. They were green like his brothers. They married in the summer under cool leaves. Both of them were getting older. Neither of them had found somebody. He liked her. She couldn't believe he liked her. Hisashi liked that she lacked self-confidence. Izuku was born eleven months later, with green eyes a shade lighter than his mothers. Hisashi laid a hand on his forehead and felt the embers of a quirk fill his soul. He tried to use it, later, but found he couldn't. The quirk alluded him like smoke in the wind, shapeless and unidentifiable but without a doubt there. He didn't dwell on his disappointment. He had a job to do. Hisashi surrounded him with heros---comic-books, figurines, posters, clothing, dish ware, keychains, pillow-cases, but especially, All Might. "Plus Ultra!" Hishashi said. "Plus Ultra!" Izuku said. "Plus Ultra!" All might said when he punched his face clean off. Even away Hisashi kept up the conditioning. He exclusively bought TV packages that were dedicated hero only broadcast stations. Through his power on the board he convinced UA to start accepting quirkless people. As much as he could do while away. It wasn't hard. Izuku inherited his mothers demeanor. Or maybe his brothers. Hisashi couldn't tell. A simple villain release synced up with All Mights patrol and Izukus school schedule worked brilliantly, and, before Hisashi knew it, Izuku had OFA. His brother was born again. Hisashi couldn't believe how well the plan had worked. How easily Izuku clung to heroism. How quickly All Might believed in him. It was almost like destiny had lined up just for him. He would need to get Izuku on his side eventually. Maybe e would tell Izuku that the only way to stop Shigarki was to give himself up. Maybe something to play into his brothers heroism. Maybe something with Izuku's Kudo. The exact nature of the agreement he would figure out later, as long as it was something that would guaranteed his brother would be by his side again.

[spearsndragons]

ok, we got spoilers for ties that bind and sunset embers, can i be a bit greedy and ask for a spoiler for hourglass too? pls? 🥺

Hahaha just cause ily guys!!!

Idk if you’ve read the OG hourglass or how much you remember, but let me put one of my most favorite scenes to write here:

Elia mounted a grassy slope, sparsely treed, and emerged upon the heart of the river, where the ghost grass grew taller and the black trees were few and scattered. And in the midst of the valley rose a long broad structure of crumbling greenish stone. Stygai. All was dark about it, earth and sky, but it was lit with dark green light, wavering and blowing like a noisome exhalation of decay. A corpse-light, a light that illuminated nothing.

She approached it warily, seeing that moss and lichen crawled over the stones, and the broken roof gaped to the sky. On all sides lay bits and shards of masonry, half hidden in the waving grass, giving the impression that once many buildings rose there, perhaps a whole town. But now only the long hall-like structure rose against the sky, and its walls leaned drunkenly among the crawling vines.

Whatever doors had once guarded had long rotted away. She stood in the broad entrance and stared inside. The weak sunlight from the noon sun streamed in through gaps in the walls and roof, making the interior a dim weave of light and shadow. Faking courage- by the Warrior, Elia had never been a soldier- she entered with careful, noiseless feet.

Once within, Elia gasped at what laid inside.

Statues.

How life-like—and how imposing.

They all seemed to be listening—and waiting.

For what?

For you, she shivered.