#the memory scene had me CACKLING

[brutashaswin]

So anyway The Marvels is probably the best MCU movie since No Way Home

[haeryna]

the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎｡˚⋆ 𓋼

summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.

tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories

notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!

"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"

Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?

As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.

If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.

"Senpai, what should-"

Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.

"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"

"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.

"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.

"I think I'll have him die."

Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.

Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?

Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.

"So you're Yuuji's executioner."

Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."

"Who're you?"

Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-

You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."

A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.

"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.

"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"

You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"

"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."

You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.

No. No!

He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.

"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.

As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-

I can't lose anyone else.

You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.

With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.

Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.

"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"

While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.

"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"

Special Grade?

What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."

You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.

Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.

He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.

Did you miss him like he missed you?

The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.

Will you forgive him?

You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.

"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.

"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.

The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.

"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."

Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.

"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"

Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.

"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"

"Senpai!"

Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?

"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"

Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."

With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"

Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."

You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."

The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."

You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.

"I promised you, didn't I?"

Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.

"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.

"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.

"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."

The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."

"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"

Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."

As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.

"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."

[jsluvtzu]

location

im nayeon x fem!reader

summary: there’s no point in hiding, she already knows.

cw: hs!au, smuttt, mentions of killing, cursing, nayeon is soso jealous, men dni

wc: 2.7k

a/n: this took forever to come out i’m sorry!! but jealous/possessive/toxic nayeon.. i need you…

“wait, so you’ve never gone anywhere without letting her know first?”, your friend was appalled at hearing how nayeon kept tabs on you at all times.

“no, never. i always have to call her first and tell her exactly where i’m going and when i’m gonna be back home. it’s fucking ridiculous.”

you were beyond frustrated with your girlfriend’s possessive nature and borderline stalking.

“well.. except for today.”

“holy shit?? she doesn’t know you’re here? what if she kills you..” your friend’s eyes widen at her sudden realization, “what if she kills me??”, she points at herself and watches as you smack your forehead and lean back against her couch, cackling at her ridiculous question.

“mia, she’s not gonna kill you, relax. she’s just a little protective.”

honestly you were trying to convince both her and yourself. there was always a small possibility that your girlfriend could actually kill somebody.

you knew how carried away she got when it came to you.

—

nayeon was the captain of the cheer team. the popular superstar who ran the social scene at school. she was always getting hit on by random boys and no matter how many times she rejected them, they always came back desperate for more.

people basically kissed the ground she walked on, willing to do anything to please her and make her fall for them. it was an honor to get even a second of im nayeon’s attention.

you however, couldn’t care less even if she was in the same class as you.

in your 6th period physics class, being able to have nayeon as a lab partner was like a dream come true. boys would swarm her desk like bees immediately at the mention of a partner lab, but you never understood the big deal behind it.

of course you thought nayeon was pretty.

her daily pinked-out outfits, perfectly styled hair, not too heavy makeup, and the skin-tight cheer uniform she wore every friday. everything she wore accentuated her proportions insanely.

she was beautiful, but losing your mind over her like everyone else was just pointless to you.

you had one person you were willing to be friends with out of the whole class. mia.

she was just like you. normal and not nayeon obsessed. the two of you always stayed towards the back of the room and kept to yourselves. nayeon noticed that.

well more specifically, nayeon noticed you.

she noticed the way your hair was always a little messy, your oversized shirts always had a little wrinkle to them, your pants were always too baggy, and your worn out converse were caked in with dirt and childhood memories.

she could fix you.

when nayeon first approached you about her overdue homework in the halls, you acted as if she was bothering you instead of granting you the privilege of her presence. it wasn’t the usual interaction she would have with somebody.

unlike the rest of the school, you were the only one able to make eye contact with her and not fold in half.

for the first time, nayeon could have a genuine conversation with someone without being treated like a celebrity.

you were special to her. and she wanted you all to herself.

when you two started dating, word spread around like wildfire. everyone wanted you dead.

the football team threatened you everyday, calling you a lowlife loser and confidently describing the ways they would steal nayeon away from you.

it’s not like you were worried about nayeon being “stolen” from you. it was bound to happen given her popularity. but nobody knew that it was actually nayeon who was worried about you being stolen from her.

she was terrified of losing the one person who could actually love her for who she is and not just what she looks like.

nayeon was worried about one person in particular. your friend, mia. you were always oblivious to the fact that she had a slight thing for you.

the subtle touches here and there, the way she complimented you, the way she looked at you. it was all just platonic to you, but to nayeon, she was a threat.

now imagine how she feels when she finds out you’re suddenly at mia’s house. alone with her.

—

there was a random movie playing in the background while you both sat on the couch sharing a blanket, talking about your girl problems.

mia listened to you with a heavy heart, knowing she could definitely treat you better than nayeon can.

“is she just protective or is she crazy..? i mean you deserve to go places without her knowing your whereabouts 24/7 right? it’s your life, you can do whatever you want. if i was your girlfriend, i wouldn’t be so fucking insane.”, mia was disappointed at how long you’ve had to put up with this.

“hey, she’s not insane okay, it’s all just new to her.. the whole authenticity thing with another person. she doesn’t know how to handle it yet.”

you were slightly offended at mia’s harsh words about your girlfriend, but you agreed with her nonetheless. it was draining having to constantly tell nayeon where you were all the time.

a sudden buzz on your phone made you jump and freeze at the fear of facing your reality.

nayeonie 🎀 1m ago i’m outside.

“what is it, y/n?” mia asked with a hint of concern in her tone, seeing how your demeanor changed.

“she’s.. outside.”, your heart dropped reading your girlfriend’s text, scrambling your brain together to figure out how she tracked you down.

“what do you mean she’s outside??”

“i don’t fucking know, mia. okay?! she just found out somehow, and now she’s fucking here.”, you didn’t mean to yell at her, but your anxiety overtook you.

“i have to go.”

you threw the knitted blanket off your legs and grabbed your bag, racing out the door without saying another word.

nayeon’s car was parked along the curb and her almost illegally tinted windows blocked you from seeing her face.

you slowly walked towards her car, clutching your belongings tightly. a weak attempt at stopping your heart from beating out of your chest.

when nayeon was angry, it was like a flipped switch. she became explosive and aggressive.

but surprisingly, when you opened the door, nayeon kept her eyes straight ahead. she didn’t say a word to you. she had her left arm hanging loosely over the top of the steering wheel, and her right hand gripping the gearshift, fingers tapping a frantic beat.

you were afraid to break the silence. the atmosphere was suffocating and filled with nayeon’s concealed, but obvious irritation.

“how.. how did you know where i was?”, your leg bouncing restlessly and your voice hoarse from nervousness.

nayeon didn’t respond and that only worried you even more. usually she would be screaming in your face about something like this, but today? pure silence.

“nay.. answer me? please?”, you turned to look at your girlfriend and saw her stoic expression. you hated this. you would rather just hear her go off on you instead.

“i’m sorry for not telling you, okay? i just needed some space.”

nayeon slammed down on the brakes and your whole body jerked forward. your mouth fell open, shocked and unable to form any words. you were just glad it was a secluded road with no cars behind.

“space? you just needed some fucking space?”

nayeon stared daggers into your soul, her eyes darkened by her jealousy.

she pulled over to the gravelly side of the road, taking her key out and clicking off her seatbelt.

somehow she appeared on your right side in the blink of an eye, yanking the door open and forcefully grasping your arm.

nayeon peeled you out of the seat, simultaneously opening the backseat door with one hand. she guided you forward until you reached the perfect spot for her to shove you down into the hard leather.

you winced at her roughness and caressed your head in pain, composing yourself enough to sit up and scoot yourself back against the window.

“thought you could just go to some other bitch’s house and i wouldn’t find out hm?” nayeon slid into the seat behind the passenger’s and slammed her car door shut.

she was smiling like an absolute psychopath. her face contrasted her words drastically between her soft tone and bared teeth.

“was the ‘space’ you needed in her bed? huh? needed some space between your fucking legs?”

nayeon surveyed the skimpy clothes you wore, messing with the thin fabric of your skirt.

“you even dressed up all nice and pretty for her baby. you were tempting her weren’t you? hm? just wanted her to see all your pretty parts?”

nayeon rubbed her warm hands along the length of your legs to the insides of your thighs, squeezing them lightly on the way up.

“please can we just talk about this, nay. i don’t wanna fuck right now.”, you were trying so hard to fight back the urge to give in when you felt your girlfriend’s hand get dangerously close to your clit.

nayeon hummed and moved her hands up to your waist, rubbing her thumbs over whatever was exposed from your tight crop top.

“but there’s nothing to talk about, is there, pretty girl? you knew this would happen. you knew i would find you.”

nayeon moved to the middle of the seat and grabbed your legs, pulling you over to straddle her lap. her hands flew to your ass, rubbing and grabbing at your flesh under your skirt, making you whine.

“nayeon, i’m serious. i’ve never told you mia’s address before, you’re fucking scaring me.”, your hands wrapped freely around her neck, feeling her warmth radiating against your fingertips. your faces were impossibly close together in her cramped car and your lips grazed each other faintly.

she smiled at you again. “i have my ways, sweetheart.”, nayeon leaned in to kiss you, but you pulled away.

“i’m not giving you anything until you talk to me.”

you weren’t going to deny the fact that you were unbelievably horny right now, you just wanted to clear the air beforehand.

“i don’t think you have much of a choice in this position, angel.”

throwing your head back in annoyance was a bad idea.

nayeon took that opportunity to attack your pulse point with her soft lips and wet tongue.

her arms held your body tight against her, locking you in with no escape.

your whiny moans only gave nayeon the primal urge to nip and suck on your perfume soaked skin.

she kissed her way down your throat to bite the point of your shoulder and ran her tongue back up to your ear, whispering in a deep, raspy voice that sent chills down your spine.

“g’na mark you all up for that desperate little bitch to see exactly who you belong to.”

bruises and bite marks immediately formed on every inch of your neck, evidence of your girlfriend’s sadistic message to mia.

nayeon shifted her hand underneath your skirt and palmed your pussy through the damp fabric of your cotton panties, cooing and mocking you for being turned on by her teasing.

she kept one arm wrapped around your lower back, her middle finger tracing circles lightly around your clothed clit.

soft moans escaped your lips and you found yourself subconsciously grinding against nayeon’s hand.

“aw, is my pretty baby getting all needy for me? does she need me to fuck her that bad?”

you nodded your head and whined in nayeon’s ear, trying your best to sound as sweet as possible.

nayeon’s lips made contact with your neck again, sinking her teeth into your flesh, driving you absolutely crazy.

she quickly moved your panties to the side, giving herself free reign to make you feel good.

she ran her fingers through your slit a couple times before inserting herself inside you slowly.

nayeon’s fingers were long. everytime you compared hand sizes, the length of them next to yours triggered the most sinful thoughts in your mind. the way she could palm your full asscheek with one grab drove you crazy with need.

the tips of her two fingers kissed the deepest part of your cervix when she bottomed out inside of you. she kept her movements still and allowed you some time to adjust to her length.

you let out a drawn out moan and brought your own hand down to grab at nayeon’s wrist.

nayeon pulled out of you slowly, staring at you with nothing but lust in her eyes.

when she left your pussy feeling empty, you mewled and gave her your best puppy eyes, pleading for her to continue fucking you with her stupidly long fingers.

“please.. just fuck me already, please baby, ‘need you..”, your hips chased her fingers in search of your own pleasure, but to no avail. nayeon just tsked at you and gripped your hip to stop you from squirming.

“you know what i want, sweet girl.”

it took you a moment to realize what she was asking for, but you quickly remembered how much nayeon liked to watch you fuck yourself on her fingers.

you nodded and sank yourself down slowly onto nayeon’s digits, keeping eye contact with her the whole time. you forced your eyes to stay open, letting out short, breathy moans.

“that’s it baby, that’s my girl.”, nayeon praised you as you moved your hips in a rhythm, riding her fingers and pressing your forehead against hers.

“just keep looking pretty like this for me. fuck.. all for me. you’re all mine, right baby?”

your eyes were squeezed shut, but you could tell that nayeon’s gaze never left yours. her tongue running across her lips, licking them to keep herself together.

she helped you out by thrusting her fingers in sync with your movements, matching your pace. your clit landed perfectly on her flexed palm every time you lowered your core back down.

“yes, fuck- ‘m all yours nay- only yours.”

nayeon could tell you were getting close when she felt your walls tightening around her and your pace getting sloppier.

“yeah? you mean that?”

“mhm, fuck- nobody else can fuck me like this. god, you feel too good-“

you were so, so close to cumming. the built up pleasure in you was ready to release, but nayeon had a different idea in mind.

hearing you reaffirm that you were hers made it incredibly hard for her to control the urge to just fuck you senseless, but she didn’t want you to have that sweet release. not after the stunt you pulled. you were just lucky she was even touching you right now.

nayeon snatched her fingers out just when you were at the edge of your high, steadying you with both hands back at your waist.

“aw, did my dumb little baby really think she was gonna cum after she tried to be sneaky like that? poor thing..”, she was taunting you now by slapping your clit harshly, knowing it would make you finish anyways.

you gripped at nayeon’s shoulders, bunching up the sleeves of her shirt in your hands and hiding your face in the crook of her neck, mumbling out small apologies in between choked whimpers.

nayeon heard another alert ring on your phone. you were too fucked out and tired to be aware of it, so she hugged you with one arm and leaned forward to reach for your phone in the cup holder up front.

she typed in your password and went to your messages to see a text from her.

mia 🧸 2m ago u good?? hope ur gf didn’t get jealous or wtv lmao

your “gf” laughed at mia’s audacity, tapping the camera icon next to the message bar.

“smile for the camera, baby.”

nayeon lifted your head off her shoulder and adjusted the strands of hair that stuck to your forehead with sweat, angling the phone to capture every freshly purple mark she left on your neck and your cutely flushed face.

you heard the sound of the photo being sent and looked down to see nayeon with a big smile on her face, typing something along with it.

“ 'd you really have to do that, nay?”, you shook your head at her while wiping the sweat off your top lip.

“it’s either this, or i kill her and her whole family.”

and she meant every word.

[winxanity-ii]

RESONANCE

ship: various!bnha x fem!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 5.5k a/n: just wanted to spit out a lil one-shot, not sure if I'll make a full fic from this but who knows lolol; tell me what y'all think…

★·.·´🇲‌🇾‌ 🇭‌🇪‌🇷‌🇴‌ 🇦‌🇨‌🇦‌🇩‌🇪‌🇲‌🇮‌🇦‌/🇧‌🇳‌🇭‌🇦‌/🇲‌🇭‌🇦‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

All your life, people gravitated to you.

It was something that felt almost like gravity—a pull that made others orbit around you, with secrets and vulnerabilities spilling out like some cracked, overflowing dam.

They couldn't help it, and it wasn't something you actively tried to do either.

Your Quirk, Confidant, was a force of its own, turning you into an unwitting confessional booth for whoever happened to cross your path. Whether you were ready for it or not, they opened up.

There had been days when you tried to keep it off, to put up the wall and protect yourself from the sheer emotional weight that others dumped at your feet. But it took too much effort, too much focus to constantly repel that need in others.

If someone came to you, tearing up over a breakup or raging about the stress of everyday life, you'd let them; it was just easier to let it run its course.

And, sure, there weren't any physical drawback—no energy drained or migraines induced. But to you, there was a burden no one else seemed to recognize: the reboot.

Once someone started talking, your mind went into what you had nicknamed "short-reboot mode." It was like something within you flipped a switch, and suddenly, every part of you worked to cater to them.

Your eyes would track every shift in their expression, your ears catching every wobble in their voice. You'd analyze, break down every cue, every breath, until your responses flowed with practiced ease—the words that person needed to hear, the exact tone that made them relax.

Sometimes, you'd offer a soft, comforting touch. Other times, you'd say nothing at all, just be a presence there to anchor them.

When it was over, and they'd leave—well, that was when things got weird.

Not for them; no, for them it was almost as if a fog rolled over their memory of the whole thing. A protective influence that made the event seem far-off, unimportant, a comforting haze to keep them from fixating on you.

For you, though? You'd collapse in bed later on, mind swimming with everything you'd absorbed, while the Quirk worked behind the scenes to sort and compartmentalize every scrap of information.

It all got stored away—permanently—so you'd never forget.

And because of that, you hated it.

You hated how your brain worked on autopilot for everyone else, how every emotional exchange was something you'd retain forever while the small, everyday things slipped right through the cracks.

You'd put down your phone and lose it within minutes, or take things into a room one by one when you could easily grab everything at once. Your grandfather loved to tease you about it, always laughing as he cackled out, "Book sense, not a lick of common sense!"

Today, it was no different.

You groaned as you walked down the stairs from your bedroom, a yawn escaping your lips as you shuffled along.

You looked every bit as tired as you felt—oversized hoodie hanging loosely from your shoulders, the fabric wrinkled and slightly twisted, and your oversized socks pooling around your ankles.

Your clothes were a patchwork of dark shades, clinging to you in a way that made it clear you'd grabbed whatever was closest without a second thought. Your hair was pulled back into a lazy ponytail, secured with a shoelace of all things, because you couldn't find a single rubber band.

You sucked your teeth at the thought, recalling how bit by bit, you had given away every one of your hairbands over the last few weeks to others who needed them. "I just bought that bulk pack," you muttered under your breath, feeling the mild frustration bubble up as you ambled into the kitchen.

The moment you stepped into the bright atmosphere of the kitchen, it felt like you were walking into another world. The colors, the light, the very mood—all of it was the opposite of you. The kitchen was warm, sunlight pouring in through the curtains, highlighting the cheery yellow walls.

Your mother was already bustling around, her cotton candy pink hair tied neatly at the base of her neck, her slender form moving with practiced grace as she prepared breakfast.

Her skin was a deep, rich shade of brown, and her eyes were bright yellow, almost glowing, with small opal-like moles at the corners that caught the morning light. She looked like something from a storybook, too perfect for the mundane scene unfolding around her.

The moment she noticed you shuffling over, she gasped softly, a bright smile blooming across her face. "Good morning, ____~," she sang, her voice lilting and sweet. "Did you have a good rest?"

You grunted in response, barely managing to pull the chair out before plopping down into it, your face half-hidden by the hood of your sweatshirt.

"That's great, sweetie~," she chirped, entirely unfazed by your lack of enthusiasm. She set a plate of food in front of you, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your cheek. "Eat up. Your big brother will be taking you to school soon—you know how he gets about wanting you to be on time." She gave you one last gentle pat before twirling away, humming to herself, lost in her own vibrant little world.

It wasn't long before the rest of your family joined you. Your father and brother came down the stairs only seconds later, both of them just as bright and awake as your mother.

Your brother's footsteps were loud and purposeful as he approached, his hand ruffling your hair as he passed by. "Morning, sis," he said, his voice cheerful, a bright grin lighting up his face.

"Morning," you mumbled, barely looking up.

Your father followed, his broad shoulders taking up the space in the doorway for a moment as he stepped into the kitchen. His blue hair was tousled but neat, the same shade as the sky on a crisp morning. His green eyes were sharp but softened when he looked at you, a smile spreading across his face.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Good morning, little love," he said, his voice deep and warm, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

You sighed softly, nodding in response as they settled at the table.

Your mother moved between them, setting their plates down before finally taking a seat herself, her smile unwavering as she looked at all of you.

The scene was perfect, almost unreal in its harmony—the three of them chatting easily over breakfast, their voices blending together with the soft sound of birds chirping outside the window.

Even though it was a regular, cloudy day, the kitchen seemed filled with sunshine, the warmth radiating from your family like a beacon. Everything about the morning—the bright voices, the gentle smiles—made it feel mythical, as if you were living in a fairytale.

It was always like this: your family's moods almost too perfect, too light. How could they not be, though, when they had you? Built-in therapist, problem solver, always there to smooth over any tension, any hint of unease.

They could always be at their best because you carried the weight for them.

As everyone finished up, your brother stood, gathering the dishes and taking them to the sink. Your mother got up as well, moving to grab everyone's packed lunches for the day.

Your father turned to you, his gaze softening as he addressed you. "____," he started, his voice gentle but with a hint of something else—hesitation, maybe? "Could you come by my agency later after school? We've got a case... or, well, a patient. I could use your help again."

You hummed, a small sound of acknowledgment as you poked at the last bit of food on your plate. "Sure," you said, though the idea of it made your shoulders droop a little. It wasn't that you didn't want to help, but the thought of more people, more emotions, more weight, felt heavy already.

Your father's smile brightened, and he reached over, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, little love. You know it means a lot to me." He worked as a hero, and it wasn't uncommon for him to ask for your help.

He ran an agency called Constellation, and his quirk, Record, a photographic memory that worked both by touch and mentally, made him one of the best at what he did. He primarily worked with police and undercover heroes, solving cases that required an eye for detail that few others had.

Ever since you'd gained your quirk, he'd relied on you for the more delicate matters—the emotional weight of things that even he couldn't quite process alone.

A few seconds later, your brother returned, his grin blinding as he held out your backpack and lunch. "C'mon, sleepyhead," he said, his eyes bright with excitement. "I got your stuff. Let's go catch the train."

You pushed your chair back, standing up with a stretch. "Yeah, yeah," you muttered, taking the bag from him. You turned to your parents, waving lazily over your shoulder. Your mother and father stood side by side, your father's arm wrapped around your mother's waist. She towered over him with her lithe frame, his head just reaching her collarbones. "Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad."

"Bye, sweetheart!" your mother called, her voice as sunny as ever.

"Have a good day, little love," your father added, giving you one last smile before you followed your brother out the door.

The cool morning air hit you as your brother led the way down the sidewalk, his usual confident stride carrying you both towards the train station.

You glanced over at him, watching as he talked animatedly, his hands moving to emphasize whatever point he was making. He was always like this—full of energy, especially in the mornings, unlike you, who was still trying to wake up.

As you both settled into your seats on the train, your brother continued to talk, his voice carrying over the quiet hum of the train. He was telling you all about his third year at Shiketsu High, his eyes sparkling as he described how different and fast-paced everything was compared to the previous year.

He even started rambling about his work-study with Fatgum, who he mentioned was an alumnus of Shiketsu High, and his fellow collegues, some guys named Suneater and Red Riot.

You glanced at your brother as he spoke, taking in his features. He looked like a perfect mix of both your parents.

His hair was a blend of your mother's bright pink and your father's deep blue, swirling together like cotton candy, giving him a vibrant and almost ethereal look.

His eyes were a mesmerizing combination of green and yellow—a galaxy of colors that seemed to shift with his mood, as if reflecting the emotions he felt around him.

Scattered across the bridge of his nose were luminescent, opal-like freckles, glowing faintly in the light as he spoke. They weren't just decorative; they were part of his Quirk, Emotilink—which was inherited from your mother—would glow and shift in color depending on the emotions of those he touched, allowing him to feel the emotions of others.

Together, their abilities made them almost like human mood rings, their markings betraying the emotional states of anyone in their vicinity.

Your brother was tall and broad-shouldered, his husky build making him seem both strong and comforting. His skin tone was a perfect, ambiguous shade—not quite pale, not quite dark—striking a balance that made him stand out without fitting neatly into any one category.

He carried himself with a confidence that only seemed to amplify the presence of his quirk, his luminescent markings always a glowing reminder of what he could do.

You, on the other hand, looked nothing like the rest of your family.

When you were younger, you'd had your mother's yellow eyes and your father's blue hair. But after your Quirk had manifested, everything about you seemed to change.

Your features had shifted, becoming more subdued, less distinct, until you were left with an appearance that could only be described as forgettable. Your hair had dulled to a mousy brown, and your eyes had lost their vibrancy, now a muted shade that seemed to blend in with the rest of you.

Sometimes you wished your Quirk was just that—forgettableness. Maybe then you wouldn't feel the weight of everyone else's emotions pressing down on you.

You were pulled from your thoughts when your brother grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but gentle as he pulled you up from your seat. "Let's go," he said, his voice filled with his usual enthusiasm.

You barely had time to react before he was practically dragging you out of the train and towards the school.

It was a routine you were used to by now—your brother carrying you along, making sure you got where you needed to be without any issue.

He didn't even break a sweat as he deposited you in front of the school gates, his hands moving to smooth out your clothes and pat down your hair, completely uncaring of the looks you both were getting from the other students.

"Aaand... there!" he said, stepping back with a satisfied smile. He handed you your backpack, his grin widening. "Alright, sleepyhead, I'll meet you here after school to take you to Dad's agency, okay?"

You nodded, adjusting the straps of your backpack. "Yeah, okay," you replied, your voice barely louder than a mumble.

He bent down, staring you right in the face with a grin. "Have a great day, alright?" he said, his eyes filled with warmth and encouragement. He reached out, ruffling your hair one last time before turning to head towards his own school. "See ya later!"

You watched him go, a sigh escaping your lips as you turned to face the school. You never really understood why he insisted on taking you to school every morning, especially when his own school was a twenty-minute walk in the opposite direction.

But then again, he'd managed to maintain perfect attendance for the past two years, so he must have been doing something right.

With another sigh, you pulled out your headphones, hoping that maybe—just maybe—they would be enough to keep people away today. You knew it was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

As you walked through the gates and into the bustling courtyard, you could already feel the familiar pull—the curious eyes, the hesitant glances, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

You pushed your headphones over your ears, the music drowning out the noise around you, but it wasn't enough.

It never was.

You stayed behind in the classroom during lunch, deciding to give yourself a break from the constant buzz of students. The cafeteria was always too loud, too busy, and you needed a moment to just be alone.

You pulled out a packet of fries you had bought earlier, munching on them absentmindedly while staring out of the window. The clouds rolled lazily across the sky, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to drift off, letting the quiet calm your racing mind.

You were jolted out of your thoughts when you heard your name being called. You turned, startled, to see your homeroom teacher hovering near the doorway. "____," she called again, her voice soft but carrying an unmistakable edge.

Your teacher, Ms. Hachiko, was hard to miss. She had a distinctly bee-like appearance, with large, round eyes that shimmered like polished onyx, and her entire body was covered in soft, fuzzy yellow fur.

Two delicate antennae sprouted from her forehead, and her long hair was pinned back into a neat bun. She floated a few inches off the ground, her wings fluttering quietly behind her.

But it wasn't just her that caught your attention. Standing behind her, with his shoulders slouched and an unmistakable frown etched across his face, was none other than Aizawa Shouta—the underground hero, Eraserhead.

You felt your eyes widen, and you choked on the fry you had just been eating, your throat seizing in shock. You coughed, hitting your chest several times as tears welled up in your eyes.

Both adults stood there, awkwardly waiting as you hacked out a few more coughs. When you finally managed to catch your breath, Ms. Hachiko gave you an apologetic smile. "____, you need to speak with Eraserhead here," she said, her antennae twitching slightly. "I'll leave you two to it," she added before fluttering out of the room, her wings buzzing softly.

You were left alone with Aizawa, who ambled over to the desk beside you and dropped himself into the seat, his tired eyes fixed on you.

He was wearing his hero uniform, his capture weapon loosely wrapped around his neck, and his dark hair hung messily around his face. He looked exhausted, deep lines etched beneath his eyes, but even then, there was something undeniably striking about him. He had an air of quiet authority that demanded respect, no matter how disheveled he appeared.

He stared at you for a moment before finally speaking. "Look, kid, I'm not sure why Nezu sent me here," he began, his tone blunt, "but apparently, you're needed for something. Honestly, you're a child, and you shouldn't even be involved in this. But here we are."

You blinked at him, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that thee Eraserhead was sitting in front of you, talking to you. He let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Have you heard about the recent villain attack on the UA first-year training camp?"

You nodded slowly, recalling the news you had heard about it weeks ago. You remembered hearing that it was the same group of first-year students that had already had a run-in with villains at the USJ. "Yeah, I heard about it," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "They got some crappy luck..."

Aizawa gave a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, it's been rough on them, that's for sure. The thing is, my boss, Principal Nezu, wants you to help the students who were most affected by the attack—Class 1-A. The other students have been able to get help from their assigned therapists, but Class 1-A... they're different. They've built a wall around themselves so thick that not even the best world-renowned therapists can break through. They think this is just part of being a hero, that they have to suck it up and move on."

You frowned, a slight pang of pity tugging at you as you listened. You knew what he was asking before he even finished explaining. It wasn't like you had a choice anyway. If Nezu, the head of UA, was asking, then your small, out-of-the-way school, Okiyama Municipal High, wasn't exactly in a position to say no.

With a heavy sigh, you slumped back in your chair, dropping your half-eaten packet of fries onto the desk. "Will I be back before school is over?"

Aizawa rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed with your lack of enthusiasm. "Yes, you'll be back before the end of the day. Nezu already spoke with your parents. One of your father's sidekicks will pick you up from UA bring you straight to his agency. It shouldn't take too long—you're just meeting them and getting a quick assessment."

Shoulders slouching, you could already picture the long, draining night ahead of you. With a resigned sigh, you pushed yourself out of your seat, nodding reluctantly. "Alright, fine," you muttered, gesturing for Aizawa to lead the way. "Let's get this over with, then."

Aizawa gave you a curt nod, standing up as well. You followed him down the hallway, the silence between you two heavy but not uncomfortable.

It wasn't long before you were out of your small school building and on your way to UA, sitting beside the underground hero in a rather unremarkable car, driven by a UA staff member.

You were about to meet the students who had faced villains twice now, and you knew that whatever you were walking into, it wasn't going to be easy.

When you arrived at UA, the sight that greeted you was different from what you remembered. You had been to UA before, a few years ago when your brother brought you along during his campus tour while deciding where to attend high school.

Back then, UA had been impressive, sure, but now it looked almost like a university campus—new dormitories and additional buildings scattered across the grounds, giving it the appearance of a bustling college rather than just a high school.

Noticing your confused expression, Aizawa spoke up, his voice gruff but explanatory. "After the training camp attack, UA opened up dormitories to house students. Villains have become more audacious lately, targeting students even outside school grounds. The dorms are an extra precaution, meant to keep them safe."

You nodded, taking in the new structures as Aizawa led you through the campus. It made sense, given how much had happened to these students already. You felt a small pang of sympathy for them—it couldn't be easy, constantly looking over their shoulders, waiting for the next attack.

Eventually, you arrived at one of the dorm buildings, and Aizawa opened the door, ushering you inside.

You stepped into a spacious common area, expecting to see a dozen traumatized, weary teens gathered together. Instead, there were just two people sitting on the couch, their attention fixed on the television in front of them.

The room was warm and cozy, a stark contrast to the tension you felt brewing inside you.

The moment the door opened, both heads snapped towards you, their bodies relaxing slightly when they realized it was Aizawa. The redhead sitting closest to the door smiled brightly, while the blonde beside him scowled, his eyes narrowing.

"Kirishima," Aizawa grunted, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation, "where is everyone?"

The redhead—Kirishima, you assumed—grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, some of them went out shopping, Sensei. And Deku and Shoto are out training."

Aizawa let out a long-suffering sigh, rubbing his forehead as if trying to stave off a headache. "I thought I told you all to stay put because you had an important visitor coming."

The blonde on the sofa snorted, his voice dripping with irritation. "What important guest, Sensei? Don't tell me it's that pipsqueak over there," he said, jerking his head in your direction.

You blinked, taken aback for a moment before letting out an affronted scoff. "Pipsqueak? I have you know, I'm taller than average," you sniffed, crossing your arms defensively.

The blonde gave you a withering look, scoffing again. "In what? Middle schoolers?"

Before you could retort, Aizawa intervened, his tired eyes narrowing at the blonde. "Bakugo, stop," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned back to you, his expression softening slightly. "I was told to bring you here, so even though not all of them are here, you've got two clients. Have fun," he said, giving you a small wave over his shoulder as he left the room.

You stared after him, your stomach sinking slightly. "Clients?" Kirishima asked, tilting his head in confusion as he looked at you.

You forced a smile, feeling awkward under their curious gazes. "Uh, yeah. I'm here to... help you guys. I guess you could say I'm kind of like a counselor," you explained, scratching the back of your head.

Kirishima's eyes widened in surprise before his expression broke out into a wide grin. He jumped up from the couch, crossing the room in a few quick strides to extend his hand to you. "Well, that's super manly! So young, yet already helping people like this. I'm Kirishima Eijiro," he said, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

You took his hand, shaking it a bit hesitantly. His grip was strong but friendly, and you couldn't help but notice the small details about him—his bright red spiky hair, the way his eyes seemed so genuine and open, the muscular build that made it clear he took his training seriously.

There was an energy about him that reminded you of your brother—that same relentless positivity.

Lord, it seemed you had found someone who could give your brother a run for his money.

"I'm Hanabira ____," you replied, your voice a bit more steady now.

The moment your name left your mouth, Eijiro's eyes widened even further, and he let out a gasp. "No way! You’re The Emotional Hero: Emberpulse's sibling?!"

You blinked, taken aback. "Uh, yeah?"

Eijiro's grin grew impossibly wider as he continued, "Your brother talks about you all the time! It's like I practically know you already. He says you're always helping people out, even when it's not easy, and that you have this way of making everyone feel better just by being around."

You raised an eyebrow, a bit skeptical. "How did you even know? Our last name isn't exactly unique, and we don't look alike at all."

Eijiro blinked, then broke out into another grin, shrugging as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't know, honestly. Your brother just said you gave off this aura of immediate kindness. Like, you just have this energy that makes people feel safe, you know? So when you introduced yourself, it kind of clicked."

A gruff voice cut in before you could respond. "Only you would make such a dumbass connection, Shitty-Hair," the blonde from earlier muttered, standing up from the couch. He turned to face you, his intense eyes boring into yours.

He had a scowl permanently etched onto his face, his posture confident and almost confrontational. His blond hair was unruly, and you couldn't help but notice the small, almost imperceptible twitches of annoyance in his expression—like he was constantly teetering on the edge of irritation.

Eijiro just laughed, seemingly unaffected by the insult. "That's Bakugo Katsuki, my best friend," he said, gesturing to the blonde. Katsuki sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes but not bothering to say anything further.

Eijiro turned back to you, his expression softening slightly. "So, uh, what exactly are you here for?"

You sighed, holding your hands up. "Like Aizawa-san said, I'm here to help, but it's not exactly like I'm a therapist or anything. I didn't ask to be here either," you said, your tone a bit defensive.

Katsuki scoffed, crossing his arms. "We don't need a damn therapist," he muttered, clearly unimpressed.

You gave him a flat look, deciding not to engage in an argument. Eijiro, sensing the tension, quickly stepped in. "Hey, don't mind him. He's just... like that," he said, scratching his head awkwardly. "Uh, would you like to join us? We were just watching a movie."

You shrugged, figuring you might as well. "Sure," you said, trying to sound casual.

Internally, you figured it was better to stay and at least try to connect with them, given that the rest of the students weren't even there. Plus, Katsuki seemed like he'd be impossible to talk to seriously right now.

The three of you settled on the couch, and Eijiro quickly started chatting again, asking you questions about your brother, your Quirk, and your school. He leaned in a bit closer whenever you answered, his eyes bright with curiosity and genuine interest.

You could tell he was trying to understand you better, his questions growing more specific as the conversation progressed.

At one point, he asked about your brother's favorite hobby, sharing how they had bonded during training sessions over their shared love of working out.

"You know, your brother's kind of like a legend," Eijiro said, his eyes wide with admiration. "I know I already told you, but he always talks about you, and I was really excited to finally meet you. He says you're his biggest inspiration."

You felt a warmth spread across your chest—a mix of pride and embarrassment. You gave a small smile, shrugging. "He always exaggerates. I'm really not that special."

Eijiro shook his head vigorously, his red hair bouncing slightly. "No way! I can totally see it. You've got this calming vibe. It's like... you make everything seem a little less scary, you know?" His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and you could feel a slight buzz in the back of your mind—a familiar haze that signaled your Quirk almost activating.

You blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of your body language, realizing that your posture had subtly shifted to mirror Eijiro's, your smile matching his intensity.

Quickly, you broke eye contact, focusing on Katsuki instead, who was watching the interaction with an annoyed expression.

He caught your gaze, and his scowl deepened. "Don't let Shitty-Hair butter you up. He's got a habit of getting all sentimental," Katsuki muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Eijiro laughed, giving Katsuki a playful nudge. "Aw, come on, Bakugo. Just trying to make our guest feel welcome."

Katsuki rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite behind his irritation. "Yeah, whatever. Just don't go crying on us, idiot."

The conversation shifted, and Eijiro asked more about your school life. You found yourself relaxing again, the haze receding as you focused on answering his questions.

He seemed genuinely fascinated by even the mundane details—how you spent your days, what subjects you liked, even your least favorite lunch options. There was a warmth in his attention, a genuine desire to know you, that made it easy to keep talking.

Time seemed to pass quicker than you expected, and even Katsuki, though gruff and standoffish, eventually chimed in with a few sarcastic comments.

You noticed that, despite his harsh words, he never actually dismissed anything you said. It was as if he begrudgingly accepted your presence, though he made sure to keep up his rough exterior.

At one point, Eijiro nudged you lightly with his elbow, a grin on his face. "You know, I think you and Bakugo would get along great if you gave it a shot. He acts tough, but he's got a good heart. Right, Explosion Boy?"

Katsuki's glare could have cut glass. "Don't drag me into your dumb ideas, Shitty-Hair," he snapped, but there was a faint blush on his cheeks, barely noticeable.

Eijiro just laughed again, unbothered, and you couldn't help but smile. It was strange, but you found yourself feeling a sense of comfort in their dynamic—like, despite their differences, they had a bond that was hard to break.

After what felt like a couple of hours or so, there was a knock at the dorm door. Aizawa entered, followed by one of your father's sidekicks, who gave you a nod. "Time to go," the sidekick said, their voice gentle but firm.

You stood up, giving Eijiro a small wave. "I guess I’ll see you around," you said.

Eijiro grinned, giving you a thumbs-up. "For sure! And thanks for coming by, ____. It was... nice."

You nodded, turning to follow Aizawa and the sidekick out of the dorms.

The ride to your father's agency was quiet, your mind still replaying the interactions you had just had. You found yourself mentally sorting through the profiles you had unconsciously built on both Eijiro and Katsuki so far.

Eijiro was enthusiastic, open, and incredibly genuine—his positivity seemed almost endless, and you could tell he was the kind of person who made it his mission to uplift others.

He had this earnestness that made you feel at ease, like he genuinely cared about the people around him. He was always leaning in, listening intently, and his questions showed just how interested he was in knowing you.

There was something infectious about his energy, and it reminded you so much of your brother—the way they both could fill a room with warmth just by being themselves.

Katsuki, on the other hand, was more of a closed book. He was gruff, blunt, and had an intensity that made it hard to know what he was really thinking.

Yet, underneath all of that, you could see small glimpses of something else—his scowl wasn't always as sharp as he wanted it to be, and he had moments where it felt like he begrudgingly accepted your presence.

He never outright dismissed you, and while his comments were sarcastic, they didn't carry the kind of malice you might have expected.

It was almost like he was challenging you to see past the tough exterior, to prove that you could handle being around him.

When you arrived, your father was waiting for you, his expression stern.

He grabbed your arm, his eyes serious as he looked at you. "Listen carefully," he said, his voice low. "The villain you're about to interact with is dangerous. He was part of the Vanguard Action Squad—Mustard. He's unpredictable, so I need you to be cautious. Understand?"

You swallowed, nodding. "Got it, Dad."

He gave you a small, almost reluctant smile, his grip on your arm loosening. "Good. Just... be careful, alright, little love?"

You nodded again, feeling the weight of what was about to come settle heavily in your chest.

This was just another part of your Quirk, another responsibility you had to shoulder—whether you wanted to or not.

A/N: so what's the verdit? will it be good as a fic or just do a one-shot series???

[walkingaftermidnight07]

the scene in the marvels where they were rounding up the flerken kittens and putting them in escape pods and eating all of the people was quite silly, but it was just the right amount of silly that had me and my best friend cackling and giggling and kicking our feet

especially the fact that it was overlayed WITH MEMORY FROM CATS???

Like, that is comedic gold. I'm sorry. It is.

[fictionadventurer]

Figured if I was going to go on the Snow White rant, I needed to actually rewatch the Disney movie.

The opening credits are much more interesting when you know some of the names. The only women who got on the list were Dorothy and Hazel, but it was nice to see their names at least and know who they were.

That book is gorgeous. All the details of the calligraphy and illustrations and binding.

Wow, the Queen is so much creepier than I remember. The fact that using the magic mirror involves summoning a "slave" trapped in the mirror? Don't like that.

That peacock behind her throne, though? Stunning, fantastic, no notes.

I kind of love how the Queen forces Snow White to be a maid, and Snow White just...doesn't care at all. She's just scrubbing a floor and totally fine. Queen's obsessed with Snow White every minute of the day and Snow White doesn't think about her at all.

Sorry, I don't buy the romance at all. I know it's a fairy tale, but one song does not a life-changing romance make. (There was a version of the scene where the prince was going to rejoice over the fact that she loved him, which might have been too much, but it at least would have helped sell it.)

The scene of Snow running through the forest and then collapsing in tears did make me feel for her.

It seems like Snow White and the Queen are from a completely different movie from the dwarfs. They've got this whole high fantasy feud going on, meanwhile these guys are living in a sitcom.

The dwarfs were the best part. Forgot how cute those guys could be.

There was not enough story here. 75% of the running time is them trying to stretch this paper-thin story to feature length. There's a big long cleaning sequence. A big long sequence of the dwarfs figuring out who invaded their cottage. A big long introduction sequence. A big long washing-up sequence. Multiple extended gags involving a fly. All fun to animate, I'm sure, but not at all up to modern pacing standards.

(I'd kind of like to compare this to other escapist '30s musicals--is this kind of structure common for movies where the point is just to show up and escape the Depression for 90 minutes?)

As a kid, I had one of those sing-a-long videos with a bunch of Disney songs, and I did not realize that I had a deep emotional connection to it until "Heigh-Ho" made me instantly happy and the Silly Song unearthed memories I didn't even know I had.

A lot of the other songs kind of stink, ngl. There's a reason the washing-up song is not in the public consciousness.

Kind of out-of-line for Snow White to just show up at their house and treat them like misbehaving children.

The skeleton in the dungeon reaching for the water pitcher? Can't believe the movie went there.

(Then they drew too much attention to it and kind of wrecked it. But wow.)

I like that they give a valid reason that the Queen thought True Love's Kiss wasn't going to be a problem.

But the queen cackling over the fact that Snow White's going to be buried alive? When it comes to showing this movie to children, I'm not hesitating about Snow White as a female role model, I'm hesitating because it's dark.

(But also--why not just poison her? I get that living death/buried alive is a worse fate than just plain death, but if she's not actually dead, how does the Queen count as fairest in the land? Especially since she magically made herself as ugly as possible?)

They carved her name in the coffin! Just like the bed! They finally get to make her a bed and it's to lay her to rest! It's almost enough to make me tear up.

The castle in the clouds makes me think of heaven/resurrection imagery, which ties in interestingly to my take on it.

There is so much potential to flesh out this story in a live-action version. Since you can't fill up the runtime with comedy dwarf antics, there's so much space to flesh out the relationship between the prince and Snow White, and give texture to the feud between the Queen and Snow White, and to dig deep into Snow's sweet character and how it affects the dwarfs, which is why it stinks that they're going for just another Not Like Other Girls update.

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐏𝐭 𝟐

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒂 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆... 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖.

Pairing: Merman!Hyunjin x Human!fem!reader Genre: Angst kinda, Fluff🥰💖, Smut🔥❤️ Word Count: 6k Warnings: Blood, Hyunjin is missing, JYPEeeEe KING OF DA SEEEEAAAAA, challenges for king, memories of sexual scenes >.>, Hyunjin AND the kid have hallucinations, kidnapping..., RANDOM MERMAID CRAP I THOUGHT WAS COOL (heart of the sea, coral palace, etc), reunions, chan becomes king of the sea... i think that's it... sweet sex (not entirely soft...), possessive Hyunjin, JYP dies.... forgive me its for plot.

A/N: Based on this TikTok link to pt 1 AHHHHH THE LONG AWAITED PART 2 i hope you like it <3 changing the formatting of my work and page again soon >.>

"I'm trusting you to take care of them, at least until I get back..."

Chan stared at his friend, "And if you don't?"

Hyunjin sucked in a breath and looked over his shoulder at Chan, "Let her... Make her... Forget me."

"Mommy what's 2 x 2?"

"Why are you worried about multiplication right now? Sugar you can't even add your hundreds place yet." You sighed.

"Uncle Ji said it's important to start early." You child pouted.

"Uncle Ji doesn't know much about math either." You chuckled.

"I second that." Chan laughed.

"Uncle Chan." She looked at the dark haired man, "What's 2 x 2?"

You gave Chan a look.

"I'll teach you another time we should work on addition first, y'know?" The man smiled.

You smiled and looked back at your work, you had been studying a certain type of guppy for just about a month now. A type of guppy that always lingered around Hyunjin's home...

You clenched for fists as you thought about that man, his beautiful sea green eyes, his gorgeous smile, the way he held you.

The doorbell made you look up. "Chan, can you get that?"

"I got it." Chan opened the door to Changbin.

"UNCLE BINNIE!" Your child ran to the short man's arms.

He them up and spun them. "Look at my favorite kid." He smiled, "You ready to go?"

Your child grabbed her bag and dragged it to the door, waving goodbye, "I'll see you in two days Mommy. Bye bye!"

You laughed lightly and waved. "Take came of her Changbin."

"I will." He called back.

You were positive she would be fine when you heard Minho's "I'll watch them both."

You kept to your work until Chan tapped your shoulder, "You're going to die of work. Go out and do something."

"Who are you my dad?" You laughed lightly. "Fine."

You picked up your computer but Chan took it from you. "Go relax... Go for a drive, go out to eat, get your nails done. SOMETHING!"

"FINE!" You huffed, muttering a you put on your shoes and grabbed your car keys.

You drove around town for a bit, looking out at the sea, you parked by the beach and walked to the shore, taking off your shoes and sitting there on the sand.

You watched as the water lapped around your bare feet, remembering sitting here with Hyunjin, who seemed shocked that crabs could be so mean when he didn't appear like a merman. You smiled and gripped the sand between your fingers before reaching up and playing with your sun charm.

You lie back on the sand as you remembered the day you and Hyunjin sat on the beach at night, the moon was full and he was talking about his parents.

"And apparently, my dad was the most romantic guy ever. But I can't be so sure about that now."

You giggled. "Do you think I'll meet your parents?"

He looked at you. "Maybe..."

"Maybe?" You tilted your head at him.

"I'd have to make you my mate first." He smirked.

"You'd bite me?" You laughed. "Like a werewolf?"

He made a face and grabbed your face. "I'd present you to the Mother of the Sea and beg for her blessing. I'd give you all my air..." he looked into your eyes and you felt your face get hot. "And then..." He leaned in close so his lips brushed against your jaw. "I'd give you my seed."

You shoved his face and hid yours in embarrassment as he cackled.

"Is it so bad to you???!" He laughed.

"No just..." You looked at him. "You've already done 1 of those things."

He smirked. "Then let me do it again.." he took your hand into his and kissed your wrist then your arm before moving to your neck.

You blushed deeply as your remember how he'd practically dragged you under the water and done... jiendsjiok Y/n. Focus..."Hyune... Where are you?"

Uncle Changbin and Uncle Minho had taken me around all day, we went to the mall, to the park, then we went to go eat, when we finally got to Minho's place and I went to bed I smiled slightly to myself. Mommy never let me go out often.

It was late, I was staring up at the ceiling, I wonder what Daddy's doing right now... the thought of my father made me smile, I still remembered his pretty face. Mommy used to smile more then. It's been two years if I've done my math right.

I hugged my narwal plushie that he bought me the last time we went to the aquarium together. I closed my eyes and whispered softly, "Mother of Sea... bring my daddy back." And I fell asleep.

Mommy says I got my hyper awareness from Daddy. The soft sound of steps woke me up and I froze. The steps weren't near the door or in the hall. They were in the room.

My eyes focused into the darkness and I glanced around without rolling over. I tried to look like I was sleeping as the steps grew closer, was it a monster? was it the boogey man my friends at school talked about...

"Jazz hands and flash." Daddy's voice came to my mind, I was 4 then and he told me to be careful when I flared my hands out because my claws would appear...

The steps grew closer and I swallowed, should I scream for Uncle Changbin...

I should scream..

The steps were beside my bed now.

The shadow stretched over my bed, moonlight from the window pouring in.

I saw the hand reaching for me.

One...

"Deep breaths.." I sucked in a slow, steady breath.

Two...

"Jazz hands..."

Three...

"FLASH!"

I flared my hands out and my claws connected with a hard substance that made me cry out in pain and pull my hands back. The person grabbed me suddenly and I shrieked.

The door burst open and Uncle Changbin was lunging claws out. Another person flew and slammed him hard into the wall just as Uncle Minho ran for me.

My gaze locked on the corner of the room. There was a woman who looked like my mommy dressed differently, like the olden days.. I was pulled out of my window as my uncles shouted.

Something pricked my arm and then the world went dark.

It was so hot... so hot he couldn't move. The heat crushing him place almost.. He looked up as he heard the door to the chamber open.

"Time to eat." the maid said as she set the food in front of Hyunjin.

He stared at it for a long time and as he reached for it he heard a voice.

It's the food...

And he pulled back, smacking the food away with his tail and shouting. "LET ME GO!"

The maid looked at him for a moment, before she shook her head and walked away.

I struggled for a moment before I heard the voice.. her voice... "Hyunjin... it's almost time."

You stood there in shock. Chan was very quiet. Changbin winced as Jeongin dabbed at the wounds on his neck.

"It was the royal guard." Minho said softly.

You looked at the floor, squeezing your necklace...

"Why would they take her.." Chan finally spoke.

Yongbok twirled his thumbs. "How did they even know she existed?!"

Seungmin sighed. "If it's the royal guard it had to have been a roayl decree."

"HOW WOULD KING JINYOUNG HAVE EVEN KNOWN ABOUT HER THOUGH?!" Jisung shouted. "THEY COULD KILL HER!"

The boys went quiet and Chan said softly. "He's been king for a long time."

The others looked at him.

"Chan what are you thinking.." Seungmin whispered.

Chan sat up straight. "I guess I owe you all an explanation."

If there was ever a merboy King Jinyoung put effort into. That boy would be Chan. That boy who was made to be a model king, his parents were impossibly proud of him for being so close to the king. It was when he was thirteen the king really took him in. Fight like this. Kill humans like that. Humans are evil because of this.

It was when Chan met his friends things became a little different, he was freer, the group following him around as it grew, and Hyunjin... Hyunjin who told Chan first where he got his necklace... who told Chan first he felt drawn to you.. who told Chan first that the child was his.. who trusted his love and daughter to Chan.

And Chan gradually slipped away from the king of the sea. But everyone knew.. from the Arctic to the southern most sea, and all the way back again they all knew the next king of the sea was going to be Chan.

And Chan neglected his duty.

"If we're going to get her," Jisung stared at you. "You need to blend into the sea."

You pursed your lips. "Huh-"

Seungmin hummed and circled you. "An octopus or a sea horse..."

"I think she'd make a good shark woman personally." Minho said.

"I agree." Jeongin seconded.

You made a face. "Why can't I be a pretty mermaid like you guys?"

"Because," Yongbok huffed, "Not all of us look the same." He cleared his throat and glanced at Changbin, "First girlfriend had tentacles."

Changbin shouted. "SHE WAS REALLY PRETTY THOUGH!"

They all shrugged.

"Don't listen to them." Chan sighed. "I have something ready already."

They all looked at Chan.

"Watch him make her some ugly black thing-"

"Betta cross." Chan said, looking you over, "Y/N would look good as a Betta fish with a mix of mandarin... Don't you all agree?"

The boys tilted their heads at you.

"Yes." Minho said.

"Definitely." Changbin smiled.

"She'd look gorgegous." Jisung jumped.

"Stunning." Felix nodded.

Seungmin shrugged.

"I think she'd look really pretty." Jeongin agreed.

"What on earth-" You started but the men practically dragged you to your car and put you in the drivers seat, before crowding in your van.

"Drive." Chan said. "We're going to the beach."

for yall who are wondering this is a betta fish (siamese fighting fish).

Chan stared at the shore. "This brings back memories..." He exhaled slowly.

"It's now or never." Jeongin huffed, taking off his expensive human trinkets and leaving them in your car.

You stared at the sea. "If they hurt my baby. I'll dump plastic."

The boys all blinked at you in shock.

"Gimme the pill." You huffed.

Chan cleared his throat and put the pill in your hand.

The boys jumped into the water one by one and you watched as they swam away, clothes washing up to the shore.

You looked at Chan who tilted his head to the water, "After you."

You sucked in a breath and jumped into the water, shoving the pill into your mouth and gasping, watching the bubbles float to the surface before you tried to move you legs. You looked down and shrieked.

Jisung and Seungmin snickered at your reaction.

Yongbok swam around happily. "YOU'RE SO PRETTY!"

You looked at them. Chan dove into the water and you turned away as his legs became one and when you looked back, there was a dark blue tail.

He smiled. "The look suits you..."

You looked down at the big tail, sparkling scales and pretty frills waving and wafting in the current. Hyunjin would've thought it was so gorgeous..

You exhaled. "Lets go."

You followed the boys deep into the water, the coral grew larger, then you saw another merman swim by. Your eyes widened at the sight of a more merpeople, the boys weren't lying, they were all built differently. Some with octopus arms and others with shark teeth.

You pursed your lips as a merman with a striped tail in gold, brown, and black like a lionfish..

Jeongin nudged you. "He's venomous.."

You blinked a few times and nodded. "Noted."

You felt like the merpeople you passed were staring at you and suddenly you forgot how to work your tail. Could they tell you were human..?

Jisung turned and grabbed you, dragging you after the rest of the group. "You're pretty, like.. top tier mermaid princess kind of pretty.." He smiled. "It's natural for them to stare. They'd think the mother of the sea blessed you with her beauty."

You tried to assure yourself that they couldn't tell you were human.

Chan swam towards a huge rock structure and smiled at you. "The person in here is trustworthy." He motioned for you to enter.

You saw a very pretty mermaid with big black eyes her tail was gold and yellow with black spots and there was spines all over it.

"Chan... who is this pretty girl and why is this the first time I'm meeting her?" She circled you a few times and her tail swished happily. "Is she a model for me?"

"Rin-" Chan started but the mermaid lifted your arms and started using a length of something to measure you.

"Rin she's-" Seungmin tried.

"I have just the thing for you darling!" She started running off to get something but Chan grabbed her arm and dragged her back.

"She's human!" He whispered shouted.

Rin's eyes widened. "This is Hyunjin's.."

The boys nodded.

She smiled at you, much calmer than before. "I'm Rin, I'm glad to finally meet you."

"Rin." Yongbok said, "Did the royal guard bring a little human girl through?"

"They did actually." She sighed. "While you were gone King Jinyoung said he'd found the Heart of the Sea."

Chan's eyes widened. "What?"

"It's encased in something, they say the girl is the key to opening it." She looked at you. "That girl is your daughter isn't she?"

You nodded and took a few breaths trying to collect yourself.

Changbin took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Can you keep her h-"

"No!" You snapped, pulling away from Changbin. "I'm not staying when some 500 year old man kidnapped my daughter! No! I'm going with you!"

Chan pursed his lips. "Please... Y/N-"

"I'm going and you can't stop me." You touched your face as something behind your ears flared.

Minho hummed. "She's still pretty while she's angry."

"Fine." Chan sighed. "Hands up."

You put your hands up and he flared his hands before baring his nails at you. You jumped back on instinct as his claws appeared.

"Do it." He glared at you. "If you can't, you can't come with us."

You shrank under his condescending gaze.

"Well?" Chan raised a brow at you.

Rin swam between you two. "You're scaring her Chan."

"Stay." He told you.

"Chan that isn't fair to her-" Rin started.

"Yea-" Jeongin started.

The appendages behind Chan's ears flared and he shouted. "She stays. That's final."

The boys and Rin all went quiet.

"Let's go." Chan huffed, swimming out.

The boys looked at you and swam after him, Yongbok smiled at you. "We'll get her back.."

Hyunjin tugged at the chains. He pulled and pulled until his wrists went raw.

"Food time." the maid entered and the heat from the bubbling hydrothermal vents calmed somewhat.

Hyunjin looked at her. "What's happening up there... It's loud."

"The king has found the key to the Heart of the Sea. The sacrifice is in two days time." She said as she set the food down. "I suggest you stop struggling, by the time you get out that half human brat will be dead."

Hyunjin's eyes widened. "If you scum touch her-" Hyunjin tuggd at his chains with all his might and he felt them shift in the sand.

"What will you do?" a voice said behind the maid.

She quickly bowed and excused herself.

Jinyoung stared down at Hyunjin. "I'm going to restore the Merman empire. And when I do, merpeople like you will stop existing."

Hyunjin's eyes narrowed. "You're a monster."

"A monster who cares for his people. And if I have to kill a few humans to reach my goal... So be it."

Hyunjin tore from his chains and vaulted for Jinyoung.

The older merman was stronger than he looked, throwing Hyunjin hard against the rock of the dungeon.

Hyunjin's vision blurred as he slumped to the floor. He saw a luminescent something before he felt the sting and his vision went dark.

Jinyoung stared at the almost diamond casing of the heart of the sea. He looked at the child sleeping in the bubble, it resembled Hyunjin so much.

He held the dagger Chan and his friends had recovered. This was for his people..

"Your highness." a servant entered and bowed, "Chan is here."

"Send him in." Jinyoung covered the child with the seaweed curtains and turned as Chan entered the room.

"My king." Chan bowed.

"Chan, please."

Chan looked up and locked eyes with him. "It's been almost two years since Hyunjin disappeared..."

"A tragedy really." Jinyoung swam to the wall of his study and traced the shelf.

"He had a lover." Chan said softly. "A lover I promised to protect.. and he had a child a child I'd give my life for."

Jinyoung turned eyes wide, the appendages behind his ears flaring. "That half human bastard child!"

"She is not a bastard child!" Chan's eyes narrowed. "In 2 days the moon will be full and at its strongest, the tides low, the fish will move for the coast. The Coral Palace will be accessible. If we have the Heart of the Sea."

"So what?" Jinyoung glared at Chan... This boy can't read through me.

"The Mother of the Sea blesses one. One person to harness the Heart of the Sea." Chan looked at the seaweed curtain, "And Hyunjin's daughter is missing."

"What' the point of all this? You want me to search for a mista-"

"No." Chan moved so fast, Jinyoung barely saw him before Chan's claws were at his throat. "I challenge you."

"Chan!" Minho and Yongbok came around the corner just in time to see it. Their eyes went wide.

"Park Jinyoung. I, Bang Christopher Chan, challenge you to be King of the Sea." Chan said coldly.

Jinyoung stared at him for a long moment. "I accept.."

You sat with Rin talking about the quality of her clothes.

"But really..." she sighed looking at you. "You shouldn't mind it."

"Don't mind what?" You raised a brow.

"How Chan talks to you..."

You looked at her. "Of course I shou-"

"Chan is going to be the next king one day. Simply by being in contact with you, he's risking his future." She said quietly. "By hiding the secret about your daughter for so long... He's risking his life."

Your eyes widened slightly. "So.."

"He's mean sometimes but it's because he cares.." she smiled, "So don't let that get to you."

You nodded, looking at your hands. "I'm just worried about C/n.. and Hyunjin.."

Rin smiled and took your hand in hers. "It'll be okay..."

She spoke too soon.

"RIN!" Minho entered the coral building with such speed he was dragging bubbled behind him, eyes wide and frantic with fear. "Chan challenged the king!"

He opened his eyes again... he felt so tired.. His sea green eyes looked over the hydrothermal vents and he tugged at his chains. He'd broken free before.. why couldn't he now?

He felt something.. something.

Turn. Hyunjin turn your damn head. He turned his head with so much effort and he saw it. The jellyfish that had stung him. He sucked in a breath and exhaled, how the hell did he let this happen.

"SHIT!" He shouted as he realized what would happen. He pulled at his chains. Y/N, C/N, Chan, Changbin, Yongbok, Jeongin EVERYONE!

Hyunjin pulled at the chains one last time before giving up.

He sank to the floor and grit his teeth as he remembered the last time he'd seen you.

"You'll come back right?" You looked up at him with the saddest look in your eyes.

"Of course I'll come back.. when haven't I?"

And how you'd kissed him as if it was the last time you ever would.

Hyunjin screamed and pulled at the chains again, he looked up at a little ball of light in the distance and somehow he saw you... No.. not you.. but you.. dressed in something so much like the old days hundreds of years ago.

"The Heart of the Sea is here... it's been waiting on you."

By the time you got to the arena area Chan was in the sand, the man he was fighting, who you assumed was Jinyoung, was beating the crap out of him. The other people watched with sad expressions as Chan got punched again..

You swam to the closest place you could to see. "CHAN!"

Minho tried to move over the coral railing as King Jinyoung's claws emerged, but Changbin held him back.

"He's going to kill him!" You shouted.

Jisung grabbed you around your waist and held you back. "That's how the challenge works... the one who lives is king..."

You stared with wide scared eyes as blood swirled into the water. "Chan.."

You tried to pull away from Jisung as Jinyoung released Chan and stood straight. Chan lie there in the sand, blood curling up into the water. Was he dead... Chan... dead?

Something in you snapped and you tore from Jisung's arms with alarming force.

This man. This King of the Sea. He'd kidnapped your daughter. He'd destroyed your peace. He'd forced Hyunjin to go back to the ocean. He'd hurt Chan.

You tore through the water, seeing red, you felt numb. There was nothing but this Jinyoung. This monster.

You raised your hands on instinct and felt your nails shifting on your skin before you really saw red. Your barbed claws buried themselves in Jinyoung's chest just as the royal guards swam for you, just as Chan sprung back up, just as the crowd screamed and a messenger shouted over the arena... "THE SEA DEVIL IS FREE!"

Hyunjin woke up in a bed. It wasn't soft by any means but he wasn't complaining, a familiar warmth was pressed to his chest and he smiled as he held her tighter pressing his nose against he head, the familiar scent filled his nostrils.

He opened his an eye and smiled at you. He barely noticed the sheets looked different.. how strange they felt, he heard something and tensed.

"What is it?" You looked up at him.

"Nothing.." He lied. "Go back to sleep." He got up from the bed, and stepped on to wood flooring. His brows furrowed as he realized... this floor wasn't the one in your house.

He went to the door and felt something looming over it as he opened the door and walked into the hall, the chairs in different rooms looked old... and he saw it... a baby crib... His eyes widened, that wasn't..

The sound of the front door opening made him turn with such speed he could have cracked his neck.

"The oceanic beast is here!" Someone shouted.

Hyunjin turned to run back to your bedroom but someone grabbed him and he shouted, "Y/N!"

He heard you scream as you were dragged from your bedroom.

Hyunjin saw red and before he could stop himself he spun from the people holding him and slashed their throats, Lunging for the men holding you. Heavy metal chains fell around him and he was pulled back baring his claws.

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face.

And Hyunjin stopped struggling.

He let the people drag him away...

From where he was chained in the village square he'd seen you multiple times, but you were always with someone, they always kept you away... and one night he heard something and looked up.

The moon was full and he saw his people storming the village..

You came running to him, and as you tried to unshackle his chains he stared with wide eyes as a long dagger, tore through you. "Y/N!"

Your grip on his chains slackened and Hyunjin tore away from where he was held about to lunge for the person but he froze. It was a boy... a merboy, no older than 16.

"Human devils and Sea devils are the banes of this world. You should die!" The boy shouted.

And as he opened his mouth to shout a human sword ran him through.

"You can't let the past repeat itself..."

He looked up at you. Or what looked like you.

"You have to go now..."

"But-"

"Hyunjin..." You leaned to him and kissed him gently. "Give me your air."

Hyunjin screamed and tore his chains from the ground, swimming to the stalactite edge of his enclosure and pounding on it before he slammed into it and the rock crumpled. He swam up frantically towards light, and surfaced in the remnants of the Coral Palace.

He stared around for a long time. Then his ear appendages twitched and he turned in the direction of the New Palace.

Jinyoung held his chest and stumbled back. His eyes widening at the sight of you. "HUMAN!"

The crowd gasped and Chan stood in front of you, defensively, "She's trustworthy-"

"NO HUMAN IS TRUSTWORTHY! ARREST HER!"

"Your highness, the moon-" A frantic servant tried to say but Jinyoung pushed him aside and swam for the palace.

Guards circled you and Chan as the others tried to get to you and the crowd began to panic.

"UP!" Chan grabbed you and slammed his tail hard, sending you shooting upwards before he released you and began to swim as fast as he could.

You followed before you looked back. "I can't.."

Chan looked at you. "Y/n! We need to go!"

"Chan..." You breathed before turning back to the palace. "She's all I have."

Before he could stop you, you swam around the guards and followed Jinyoung into the palace. You followed the merman as he swerved through the palace and then you finally caught up to him as he stopped in front of a seaweed curtain.

"JINYOUNG!"

He pulled out a bubbled and turned to you. Inside the bubble was.. your daughter..

The artifact Hyunjin had stolen from the museum in his other hand. "With this dagger... Mother of the Sea... Bless the Heart! And devour Man."

You screamed as he raised the dagger. "NO!" You swam for him but something was faster, grabbing Jinyoung and slashing his face. He dropped the bubble and you dove for it. Looking up, you stared in shock at the familiar figure. "Hyunjin.."

"You want the heart..." he said lowly, raking his claw over his palm, blood coiled from the wound into the water as Hyunjin grabbed a crystal locked object.

You stared at it. Jin-young sprang up to attack Hyunjin but something slowed him...

Hyunjin gripped the crystal and shouted. "COME GET IT!"

And it shattered.

Jin-young stared at him. "This can't be... You're not- You can't- You... You love that HUMAN! You're not one of us! TRAITOR! LIAR! DEVIL!"

Hyunjin tossed the crystal to the ground before staring a beautiful blue pearl.

"This... is for 500 years ago." Hyunjin grabbed the dagger from the floor and stabbed the pearl.

Jin-young screamed and lunged for him but Chan swam past you and grabbed the shrieking king. "Your dynasty is over."

Hyunjin's brows furrowed before he swam and covered your eyes. And yet you couldn't mistake the sound of Jin-young's neck breaking.

It took several hours to get everything handled with your daughter as she couldn't believe Hyunjin was back. Chan was going to recover and the planning of a formal coronation was under way. It was early the next morning, when you finally got home, settling your daughter into bed. But now you had questions.

"Where were you.." you whispered as you returned your home.

Hyunjin looked at you. "Jinyoung ordered me to return and kept me when I tried to leave. He... he imprisoned me in the Coral Palace and I saw... you..."

You looked into his eyes. "You were gone. I thought you-"

Hyunjin remembered what he begged Chan to do and bit his plump lip.

"I thought you left us." You whispered.

Hyunjin fell from the couch on his knees in front of you. "No... Jagiya no..." he breathed. "I would never."

You felt the tears welling in your eyes as he took your hands in his. "I'm sorry... you've been struggling and I just-"

"No. Don't apologize. I.. I should've figured out something-"

"You were in a dungeon, I was just here and-" the tears started streaming down your face before you could stop them. "C/n would ask where you were and I wouldn't know what to say.."

Hyunjin took your face in his hands and shushed you, wiping your tears. "You did amazing..." He whispered. "You are amazing.."

You looked into his pretty green eyes as you tried to control your tears. "I missed you.."

He smiled gently and leaned to press his forehead against yours. "I'm here... I'm finally back... And I'm never going to go again.."

You kissed him softly. He held you against him, pushing his tongue past your lips and sighing as he tasted you for the first time in so long. "Let me..." He breathed.

"What..." You exhaled.

"Make you mine. I want you to meet my parents." He muttered. "But first-"

You didn't let him finish his sentence before you pounced on him.

Your lips were molded to his in a desperate heated kiss as you ran your fingers through his long hair. He muttered against your lips "I love you so much..." as he lifted you, hands firmly on your butt with your legs wrapped around his waist.

He carried you to your bedroom, lip never leaving yours as he set you down on the bed, leaning into you, pulling your shirt over your head as you worked at his pants. He smiled against your lips after he pulled the shirt off you, "Shit, I missed this.."

You gasped as his lips moved to your throat and he bit gently at the skin before kissing and licking at your chest as you mewled softly.

He lifted you and unclipped your bra before taking your of your nipples into his mouth. He groaned as you pulled off his pants just enough to palm at his cock through his boxers. He moved lower kissing at your stomach before kneeling as he pulled your pants and panties off, looking up at you past your breasts. His eyes met yours, pupils blown wide with desire.

His green eyes trailed to your pussy before he leaned in and kissed your clit gently before giving it gentle licks.

You whined and grabbed at his hair.

"Shh.." He hummed, "I've got you pretty thing." He took one of your hands in his and your fingers intertwined as he began licking and sucking at your clit.

You tugged at his hair and gasped, "Hyunjin-"

He groaned into your womanhood, the vibrations sending sparks down your spine before he pushed a long finger into you. You moaned at the stretch and Hyunjin hummed.

"You missed me filling your pretty pussy?" he whispered as he moved his finger in and out green eyes admiring the way your slick coated the digit, before he pushed in another.

You gasped as he curled his fingers to rub your g-spot. He fingered you faster, grinding his palm against your clit, you moaned louder as you felt the familiar knot tightening in you gut. Hyunjin moved up and kissed you moaning as you pulled his hair.

Hyunjin released your hand and took his hand to your clit, rubbing in figure 8 motions as you moaned.

"Cum for me, baby.." He whispered.

And the knot inside you snapped, you jerked as your vision went white and Hyunjin continued fingering you stretching your orgasm thin.

He pulled away and drew his fingers out slowly, admiring your slick as he licked his fingers clean, groaning at your taste. He pulled his shirt and pants off, dragging the boxers as well before grabbing your legs and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

He looked down in you eyes as he took his shaft into his hand, rubbing the tip against you slit and slapping it against your clit. You whimpered and he smiled as he pushed into you before leaning over you.

You both moaned as he sank into your tight heat.

"I love you so much..." he breathed, kissing you as he pulled out. He pushed in slowly and the kiss swallowed your moans as he repeated the motion, pushing into you over and over. He pulled away to look into your eyes before he stood to his full height and grabbed your hips.

You gasped as he began fucking into you roughly, desperately, even, as if you might disappear, as if he were dreaming. You moaned as his cock reached deep inside you, brushing your cervix.

"I missed you so much... I thought you'd forgotten me... moved on.. given yourself to someone else." He groaned and and wrapped your legs around his waist, moving you up on the bed and slowing his thrusts. "This is mine.." He kissed your hand,"mine." he kissed your stomach, "mine..." he the valley between your breasts, "mine.." he kissed your lips, "mine. You are mine.." He slammed into you so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs and the bed creaked.

"Hyunjn-" You reached to hold onto him and he took your hand again, kissing your palm as he started pounding into you again, his eyes glazed over and distant but at the same time so focused on you and only you.

You the human he learned to trust. You the girl he used to think about all the time. You the girl who seemed to be everywhere he was. You the only woman he would ever love. You his human.. the mother of his child.. his savior.. you.. the Heart of the Sea.

"I'm not leaving you again... never.." he breathed as he moved faster. "'M going to stay for our little family.. for you." He leaned down and kissed you, muffling your cries as he picked up the pace. "I'm going to cum..."

You gasped and whined as you felt the knot building in you again. "Me too.."

He licked two fingers and brought them to your clit. "Come on jagiya, you can give me one more baby..." He rubbed furiously. "Please he whined and you came again, pussy clenching tightly on Hyunjin.

He moaned and grit his teeth as he came as well. His hips bucked to yours as he released load after load into you before falling over you, holding himself up with his forearms.

You pulled him down to you, his head resting on your bare chest, sweat slicked bodies pressed together and you whispered, running your hand through his damp hair, "I love you, Hyune... Welcome home.."

Tags

@asahisimpnation

[mariaofdoranelle]

Stage Kiss

Written for Throne of Glass Microfics

This accidentally ended up the size of two microfics but I’m tagging you if you’ll still have me @throneofglassmicrofics

Prompts: mainly indulge but I ended up using mayhem too

Warning: teenagers

Words: 1,9k 🫣

1st run

Today, at 3:30 p.m., Rowan would kiss Aelin Galathynius on the cheek.

Pathetically enough, this little knowledge was on the forefront of his mind all day. Not his classes, no. Just Aelin’s ivory—occasionally rosy—cheek.

“Whitethorn!” Fenrys shouted in the hallway several steps behind, forcing him to turn and stop so his friend could catch up. “Looking good,” Fen said, playfully slapping the back of his hand against Rowan’s bicep.

Rowan rolled his eyes. He thought that going to the gym every day—plus taking supplements behind his mom’s back—would magically make him more confident. It didn’t. The only difference was that he looked slightly less thin, so now Fenrys occasionally catcalls him and reacts to his IG stories with the flame emoji.

Even worse, Remelle Wiselheade was now hitting on him. His plan to get Aelin’s attention absolutely backfired.

As if he was a mind-reader, Fenrys said, “And how does it feel to be Aelin’s husband?”

Rowan blinked. “Uh…”

“I mean in the play!” Fenrys threw his head back and cackled, then urged them towards the school theater. “Bro, you’re—“

“I obviously knew that!” Rowan said, defensive.

He was just taking theater classes because his mom thought it’d help him with the shyness. But Aelin? Aelin Galathynius could give Margot Robbie a good run for her money—in both talent and beauty.

If enduring his crush on her during classes wasn’t enough, they were acting as husband and wife for this play.

And it required him to kiss her on the cheek.

He was glad that Mr. Emrys, their drama teacher, had a no-kids-kissing-on-stage policy. Rowan was half a lip virgin—that thing with Lyria didn’t count—and while having an almost first kiss with Aelin would’ve been great, he wasn’t looking forward to a very public cardiovascular malfunction.

Once inside, he quickly found her by a wall with Nehemia. Aelin didn’t see him at first, but he slowed his pace to look at her better, making Fenrys—who was right behind him—trip and take Rowan down with him. Not down, since both recovered before falling face-first on the floor, but the whole thing was loud enough that now he had Aelin’s attention. At the worst moment imaginable.

She smiled at him and sent a tiny wave, and by the poorly hidden smirk on Nehemia’s face—very similar to Fenrys’—she must’ve figured out his crush on Aelin. She had to. Nehemia Ytger was one of the smartest people he knew, he just hoped she’d keep her mouth shut for now.

Once everyone gathered around Mr. Emrys and he gave them directions for today, the first rehearsal for Hamlet began.

It passed like a blur until the scene arrived.

[Modified Act 1, Scene 2]

The court gathers. Claudius stands before the throne—simple practice chairs, actually—with Gertrude at his side. Hamlet watches from a distance, looking somber and disapproving.

Rowan didn’t want to read too much into why he learned even the narration. He turned to his “court” and said:

Though my dear brother’s death is fresh in memory, we must also move forward.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Gently holding Aelin’s hand, Rowan swallowed and almost froze when it was time, but her encouraging smile propelled him further.

He might’ve just dipped in and out, but feeling her skin under his lips was the quickest yet longest second of his life.

His cheek kiss was followed by deafening silence. For a second Rowan thought he’d embarrassed himself somehow, until he found everyone staring at Fenrys, waiting for Hamlet.

His friend looked like a deer in the headlights.

“I forgot.”

“A little more than kin, and less than kind, Moonbeam.” Mr. Emrys took a calming breath. “Let’s do another run of this scene, shall we?”

2nd run

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Rowan took Aelin’s hand again. Both experience and her open expression made him kiss her cheek more confidently this time, and he was calm enough to enjoy the moment.

The same awkward silence again.

“Mr. E, I have ADHD,” Fenrys protested, though the twitch in the corners of his mouth betrayed the seriousness. “Don’t you think it’s a bit fascist of you to make me learn all these lines in medieval?”

It’s called ‘Early Modern Common Tongue’, Moonbeam. You’ll learn with practice.” Mr. Emrys settled back into his seat. “Let’s do another run.”

4th run

By now, Rowan was very well practiced in kissing Aelin’s cheek.

Because of the political nature of their characters’ marriage, a greater actor would make Claudius give Gertrude a triumphant look rather than a fond one, but if Mr. Emrys wanted a great actor, he should’ve thought twice before casting Rowan.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

As practiced, he reverently took Aelin’s hand and leaned in for the cheek kiss.

But she turned her head. The spot on her cheek that he focused on became a blur, and before he could grasp the situation, he felt the softness of her lips in his.

An awkward miscalculation on her part.

Or was it?

The way Rowan jerked back in surprise made their peck quicker than the other kisses.

“Whitethorn!” Mr. Emrys called, one finger pointed at him. “That was supposed to be on the cheek, mister.”

He froze, glancing wide-eyed between the teacher and Aelin’s mischievous look. He could protest and clarify that she was the one to incite the kiss, but that would just be loser—worse, virgin—behavior.

Rowan may be both, but he sure wasn’t acting like it.

With the snickers that came from the students, their teacher’s stance relaxed. He slowly shook his head and muttered, “Teenagers,” as a chuckle escaped him.

5th run

Rowan was determined to return Aelin’s peck, which meant that now stakes were higher. This time, he was even more nervous than before the rehearsal started.

She is cute. Rowan really likes her. And she kissed him first.

And this self-pep talk was shit at calming him down.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Instead of holding her hand, Rowan held her jaw instead. By their silent exchange, she had an inkling of what was coming, and her expression seemed welcoming. A quick brush of his thumb as another warning, and he leaned in.

Pillowy soft lips briefly against his was a brief shoot to the skies and back.

It was quick. It was glorious. The sweet, sticky feel of her lipgloss was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“A little more than kind, and—“

“Gods, Fenrys, it’s kin!” Nehemia shouted from the sidelines, distracting the teacher enough to forget about the kiss.

After this, Mr. Emrys stopped complaining—he had bigger battles to fight.

7th run

After their third kiss—plus four on the cheek—Rowan began to wonder if it was too soon for a “What are we?” conversation.

Maybe he should ask her out.

Scratch that, he was absolutely asking her out. If he got rejected, life would go on—after he changed schools.

Therefore, I have married my brother’s widow, Gertrude, to strengthen Denmark and honor our kingdom.

Rowan stroke her cheek with his thumb and leaned in once again for their peck, but once he did, Aelin threaded her fingers through his hair and kept him there, tilted her head. She waited a second for his response, then retreated once it didn’t come.

Shit. Was this—

With hawk-like speed, Rowan grasped her face with both hands before she could draw back and… well, it was too much of a whirlwind inside his head to make sense of what was going on. All he knew was exploring tongues and her hands on his neck and his heart that threatened to leap out of his throat to interrupt the kiss.

He couldn’t believe he was kissing Aelin Galathynius, and she felt so soft. Soft lips, soft skin, a soft sigh that he felt in areas he’d rather forget to not embarrass himself.

“A little more than kin, and—HOLY SHIT”

The absolute silence turned into mayhem once Fenrys abruptly addressed what was going on. Once he did, the students howled and whistled at them.

However, the only reaction he cared about was Aelin’s, who stared at him with flushed cheeks and wide turquoise eyes that sparkled with something he couldn’t quite place. She giggled and hid it behind her hand, and the sight of her nervous excitement brought a funny feeling to his stomach.

“Okay, that’s enough,” their teacher said to interrupt everyone’s shouts and cheers. “Moonbeam, you’ll arrive with your lines fully memorized next time—this is not a request. Everyone’s dismissed except for Whitethorn and Galathynius.”

The mood immediately sobered as students grabbed their things between whispers. It didn’t affect him like people thought it would, though. Rowan had just kissed Aelin—with tongue. Mr. Emrys could put him in detention ‘til eternity, he didn’t give a fuck.

They got ready to leave along with everyone else, but gathered around the chair their teacher was still on once the theater was empty.

A twitch of Mr. Emry’s lips into a firm line told them he was trying to get into ‘stern teacher’ mode. He’s not really the authoritative type, but they broke the rules, and it was in the job description that he plays a role for discipline’s sake.

“In the script, it says ‘kiss on the cheek’, and I need my actors to do exactly as scripted, okay?”

Rowan and Aelin both muttered their agreements.

“Great. If that—“ Mr. Emrys pointed at the spot their kiss happened. “happens again, I’ll have to take measures all three of us won’t like.”

“We understand.”

“Great.” He said in an upbeat mode, without his ‘stern teacher’ frown, switching back to ‘nice teacher’ mode. “Glad that’s settled. You can go now, but I want you in your best behavior from now on.”

The thing about Mr. Emrys is that he’s a really cool dude. He rarely gets angry at his students, most times it’s an odd sort of fond exasperation. It worked on their favor this time, but Rowan wouldn’t take it for granted.

Outside, Aelin stopped once the door was closed. So did he. The playful flirtation they had during rehearsal was gone, and Rowan was unsure on how to make a move in this awkward silence.

It was now or never, though.

Aelin chuckled and went her way down the hall, which he followed beside her.

“So, that happened.”

He gave her a brief, close-lipped smile. “I was thinking…”

“Yeah?” She swiftly looked up at him, eyes wide.

“Doyouwannagooutsometime?”

Rowan hoped the blood rushing into his cheeks wasn’t visible from outer space.

Aelin had both hands gripping the shoulder straps of her backpack as she fought the corners of her lips from quirking up.

“Sure,” she said. “Do you have something in mind? Because there’s this movie I really wanna watch—”

“We can watch it.”

Aelin bit her bottom lip, eyes brimming with amusement. “I haven’t told you which movie it is yet.”

He tilted his head, silently urging her to give the information.

Please, anything but that gorey demon one he saw last weekend.

“Do you wanna go see Healers vs. Demons?”

“Sounds great,” Rowan half-lied.

Any movie sounded great if it was on his first date with Aelin.

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[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Six

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Six: Memories of Life and Death

Summary: Everyone says the wrong thing, and (Y/N)'s mental health pays the price.

            (Y/N) closed their eyes and put their hands over their ears as Angel’s show-and-tell video played. It was, of course, nothing short of one of his acting scenes with more of him than (Y/N) ever wanted or needed to see.

            “Ya know, this performance won me a ‘Sex-x-x-i’ award,” said Angel proudly.

            “It’s, uh, very…honest?” Charlie averted her face.

            “Ew,” said Vaggie. “Okay, enough of that! Angel, what the fuck?”

            “What? You said it was Show n’ Tell day!” said Angel. “I’m showin’ you my best film, and I’m tellin’ you that it scored me a win over that bitch, Tiffany Titfucker.”

            “Ya know, that’s not a very convincing interrogation scene,” said Husk from the bar as he cleaned glasses.

            “Alright, dickhead, what makes you think you have any right to insult my work to my fuckin’ face?” said Angel.

            “You’re really gonna sit there and act like these scripts ain’t hot garbage?” said Husk, raising a brow.

            “Fuck you,” said Angel. “This is classy art!” He pointed at the screen on an incredibly inappropriate scene.

            Pentious covered his eyes with his head flaps, and Niffty grinned happily as she watched.

            “That’s bullshit,” said Husk. “You get drunk and bitch about them all the time. Everyone likes to bitch to the bartender. I know everything about you and these motherfuckers at this point.” Angel rolled his eyes, and Husk decided to make a point. “That one.” He pointed at Pentious. “That one is an insecure buffoon whose lonely ass watches you idiots sleep. Princess is a bleeding heart who wants to solve everyone else’s problems ‘cept her own.”

            “What? No, I—Pfft, no, no,” denied Charlie nervously.

            Husk just continued on to Vaggie. “This one judges everyone and everything because she hates herself.”

            “Aargh!” Vaggie hated how accurate it was.

            “That one.” Husk moved on to (Y/N), whose flowers flinched nervously. “Is sick and tired of being thought of as some innocent kid by everyone here and might go crazy if anyone tries to put that role onto them.”

            (Y/N) smiled sheepishly. Unfortunately, they really did feel like that.

            “And Niffty.” Husk made a face. “You don’t even wanna know what her deal is.”

            Angel cackled. “You weren’t kidding. Haha, wow! Kitten’s got claws! Meow~” He grabbed Husk’s face teasingly.

            “And you!” Husk pushed Angel back. “Don’t get me started. I see right through you and all this bullshit and how fake you are.”

            “Oh, me? Fake?” challenged Angel. “Wow. I had no idea. Guess that’s why I’m an actor. Dumbass. And—” His phone went off, and Angel’s face fell before he grabbed it. “Hold that thought.” He walked a few paces away. “Hello? Uh, yeah, I’m-I’m…” His entire attitude had changed, growing nervous and hesitant, completely unlike the usual Angel Dust the hotel dealt with. “No, no, I just, I—No, I’m not, but, uh, yeah…I’ll be right there.”

            He turned off his phone and looked back at the group. (Y/N) furrowed their brow in concern as they saw a familiarly fake smile spread across his face. They had worn that smile themself. It had weighed more than a thousand tons on their shoulders.

            “Well, uh, looks like Val needs me for an, uh, emergency shoot,” said Angel, trying to seem excited and eager.

            “Uhuh, sure,” said Husk, seeing through it.

            “You know what?” snapped Angel. “Fuck you! I don’t give a shit what a drunk ass bartender thinks a’ me! So why don’t you just crawl back to whatever cave you came out of, porn critic.” He gave Husk the middle finger and walked towards the door.

            “Angel, you can’t leave yet!” said Charlie. “We haven’t finished our exercises for the day.”

            “I’m sure you’ll manage without me,” said Angel.

            I don’t think he can say no to Valentino, thought (Y/N), frowning.

            They knew Angel had a contract with Valentino, and they saw the exhaustion in him whenever he returned to the hotel. They knew that if he could, Angel would rest more often. But he couldn’t. And (Y/N) really wished they could do something about it. After all, if there was one thing they despised more than anything else in this whole Hell and Heaven and Earth and everything, it was those that took advantage of others. The very thought summoned a murderous rage (Y/N).

            They knew what it felt like to be used and abused.

            The roses on (Y/N)’s head quivered and wilted as they felt themself on the verge of really, truly remembering (reliving) what they had gone through in life, and (Y/N)’s chest tightened.

            “There isn’t much time left for the hotel to prove itself,” said Charlie, her words drawing (Y/N) out of their mind successfully.

            “Dollface, it’s my job,” said Angel forcefully. “I know you want to fix everything, but unless you can fix my boss, there’s nothing you can do.” He slammed the door shut and was gone.

            “Uuuuugh, why is this so haaaard?” groaned Charlie, curling up in front of the door. “What am I doing wrong?”

            “I don’t think Valentino wants Angel to be redeemed, even if it’s possible,” said (Y/N), frowning.

            “But I do,” said Charlie. “And I really believe in him! But he always has to go to work and can never really commit…What do I do?”

            “Well, I mean, you’re the princess of Hell,” said Vaggie.

            “So?” said Charlie.

            “So, you don’t really use the power that comes with that, which I love about you, but maybe you can…I don’t know, command a little more authority?” suggested Vaggie, smiling encouragingly.

            “But that’s so mean!” said Charlie.

            “I don’t know much about the Vees, but I’m sure they’d deserve it,” said (Y/N), and Husk nodded in firm agreement.

            “It’s not mean, exactly,” said Vaggie, trying to get through to Charlie in a way she’d understand. “It’s, uh, aggressive kindness!”

            Wow. (Y/N) and Husk looked at each other, unimpressed by that “persuasion.”

            “Okay!” Charlie brightened, apparently having been convinced by the idea of “aggressive kindness.” “I could be so aggressively kind to Angel’s boss that I convince to let Angel spend more time at the hotel!”

            “Sure, whatever gets you there, babe,” said Vaggie, smiling at Charlie as she walked out the door happily.

            “Is killing Overlords not on the table?” murmured (Y/N).

            “No,” said Husk. “At least, not for you.”

            “Fine, fine. I’ll do it another time,” said (Y/N).

            Husk shrugged. “As long as you know you’ll win, go for it.” He didn’t care if Valentino got what was coming to him.

            “Do not encourage them to kill people!” said Vaggie.

            “It’s not people. It would be Valentino,” said Husk, and (Y/N) nodded in agreement.

            Vaggie sighed, but she couldn’t disagree.

l

            When Angel returned, (Y/N)’s anger returned full force. He was clearly exhausted and uncomfortable, and whatever he had to film, it was long and, possibly (likely), painful.

            “Eugh, I need a drink,” said Angel, slumping across the bar counter. “The hardest you can make.”

            “Hm. You look like shit,” said Husk, putting a glass down and pouring a drink.

            Angel straightened and put on his overconfident act. “Pfft. Not possible. Just a long shoot, nothin’ new.”

            “Are you alright, Angel?” asked (Y/N), frowning.

            “Of course!” said Angel, but he quickly chugged the drink Husk had made him. He slammed the glass down. “I said a strong one.”

            “Excuse me,” scoffed Husk. “Didn’t realize this was a ‘drinking to forget’ kind of night.”

            “Oh, I forgot. You’re the wise old bartender who’s seen it all!” Angel spoke confidently, but the look on his face was clearly not. “Get the fuck over yourself and pour me a real drink.”

            “Look, if you got a problem, you’re not going to find the solution at the bottom of a bottle,” said Husk. “I should know, I’ve been looking there a long time.”

            “Oh, sure, and where should I look, huh?” said Angel, scoffing. He wiggled his eyebrows. “In your bedroom, maybe? Under the covers? Maybe we can go and look together.”

            “Angel, we’re actually worried,” said (Y/N), walking over. “We want to make sure you’re okay and take care of yourself.”

            “I’m fine,” snapped Angel. “I don’t need any help.”

            “Cut the act,” said Husk. “We can both see through it. You’re just lying to yourself and being fake.”

            “Call me a fake one more time, motherfuckers!” Angel snapped, leaning forward towards (Y/N) and Husk angrily.

            “Angel—” began (Y/N), reaching out slightly.

            “Just leave me alone!” snapped Angel. He slapped their hand away. “Ya know what?! Ya’re all fucking lucky to be talkin’ to me! And you—” he glared at Husk “—would be lucky to fuck me! Ya know how much I’m worth?!” He was clearly spiraling. “Ya know how many people would kill to have Angel Dust come onto them?! Fuck you!” He spun on (Y/N), who flinched back. “And you! Just leave me alone! Stop trying the nice act on me! Acting like you’re innocent and nice when you’re just as much a sinner as us! Just fucking stop!”

            (Y/N) flinched back as Angel stormed out. Their chest constricted, and they were overwhelmed as words from their past came to the surface. (Y/N) stumbled back even as Vaggie came around the corner. They could vaguely hear Vaggie asking Husk what had happened, but everything was faraway, like (Y/N) was underwater.

            (Y/N) pulled away from the group, and as the edges of their vision blurred, they stumbled away, farther into the hotel.

            Away. Need to get away.

            (Y/N) collapsed in a darkened corner of the hotel.

            “Don’t act innocent. You’re a filthy sinner, and if you don’t start obeying me, you’re going straight to Hell.”

            (Y/N) curled up, putting their hands around their knees. Unbidden, roses and briars bloomed around them, creating a protective barrier that couldn’t hide (Y/N) from the words echoing in their mind.

            “I saw you in Church. You weren’t paying attention. Can’t you do anything right? Do you want to burn for all eternity?”

            (Y/N) squeezed their eyes shut and put their hands over their ears, but nothing could block out their memories.

            “You’ve brought this on yourself. You refuse to atone for your sins, so I must deliver you from yourself.”

            (Y/N) flinched, and phantom pain blossomed on their back.

            “You are a sinner! You bring sin into this household! You must atone!”

            (Y/N) curled farther in on themself.

            I’m fine. I’m free. None of them can hurt me again. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

            “I’m fine. They can’t hurt me. I won. I won. I won.”

            “Sinner. Filthy. Dirty.”

            “No, no, no, you were the filthy one. You hurt me.” (Y/N) murmured. “They hurt me, and I punished them.”

            “Wrong. Mistake. Abomination.”

            “I did the right thing. I did the right thing. I did the right thing.”

            “You have to atone.”

            “Can’t hurt me. Can’t hurt me. Can’t hurt me.”

            (Y/N) tried to breathe as their entire body ran hot, lungs too tight, the air too stuffy.

            And then something cool wrapped around them. (Y/N) tensed, but they were too exhausted to open their eyes, too scared to see the people they were so desperately trying to block out. So they just let the comforting temperature wrap around them, settling around them. It stilled their thoughts, delivering them from their own mental hell.

            (Y/N) let out a tired breath and held themself tightly. Whatever was settling around them felt like no enemy, and (Y/N) would take any bit of comfort they could find.

            They had never gotten any before.

l

            Alastor lurked within the shadows of the hotel, gazing over (Y/N)’s small, protective barrier. He loomed above, perfectly able to act as he wished, ready as ever to drive fear into all. Instead, Alastor let the shadows rise and settle around (Y/N)’s shoulders. Their breathing calmed, and Alastor pulled back farther into the shadows, satisfied.

            He could’ve frightened them. He could’ve driven them farther into their own madness. He could’ve pushed them and their magic to the brink to see if they had the strength to survive.

            But Alastor hadn’t. He’d heard the same words he’d spoken to himself so, so long ago. And he’d done what, perhaps, a different, faint version of himself would have wanted.

            Perhaps (Y/N) and he were not as different as he assumed.

            Instantly, Alastor retreated into the shadows. He would prefer to think over that new realization on his own. It presented quite a few considerations Alastor had so far avoided in his life.

l

            Much, much later in the evening, (Y/N) braved a return to the lobby to attempt to steal a drink before retreating to their room again.

            “Hey, kid?”

            (Y/N) froze and turned. Angel was standing across from them, rubbing his arm nervously.

            “Oh. Uh, hi.”

            “Listen, kid.” Angel stepped forward. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry. For earlier. I shouldn’t’ve said what I did. I was being stupid. You’re a good kid. And even if you’re in Hell, you’re betta than most of the sinners in the Hellhole.”

            “It’s okay,” said (Y/N), shifting uneasily. “You weren’t feeling well. I’m sorry for pushing.”

            “You, uh, cared,” said Angel. “It was nice of you. So thanks.”

            “You’re welcome.”

            Angel smiled slightly. “Are we okay?”

            (Y/N) nodded. “We are.” Angel wasn’t who (Y/N) had escaped. He was their friend.

            And whoever had helped them was their friend, too.

Taglist:

@kyalov

@pandaquick

@boredwithlifeatthispoint

@jaytheaceenby

@paastaboi

@bettybabys

@gxdoesstuff

@grippleback-galaxy

@just-here-reading

@dmitrytherat

@a-small-tyrant

@marxo5

@rory-cakes

@andsoigotabutterfly

@theblueslytherin

@romyoia

@ray-rook

@thereeallink

@pandaquick

@funkyexistence

@theyaremorethanjustfictional

@lanxianschoenheit

@justyourfriendlyneighbourhood1

@ringsofpersonti

@futureittomainn

@enderpearltv

@oo0lady-mad0oo

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: M6 administering first aid when it's their fault MC is slightly hurt

~ this idea has been sitting in my drafts for forever and I got an ask or two for something similar, enjoy the fluff! - brainrot ~

Part 2 is here:

- to set the scene -

It was evening time, and the two of you were in your shared space getting ready to decompress after a long week of work. You had just finished your bath and were drying your hair, but you couldn't find your comb. You glance across the room to where your beloved is and notice that it's right next to them.

"Darling, could you toss me my hair comb?"

They smile, pick it up, and toss it gently in your direction. Except that it flies faster than they expect it to. And they put a little more push and spin into it than they meant to. And when the comb smacks you in the face, one of the prongs manages to nick your eyebrow. You only feel a slight sting, but it's when your fingers come away from your face with a slight smear of blood that you notice the horror on your beloved's face. Oh dear.

Julian

Torn between the deep despair of what he's just done and his doctor's instinct to FIX IT, FIX IT NOW

Scrambling to find something to disinfect it with and clean it up, berating himself the whole time and concocting a thousand harebrained schemes to earn your forgiveness

During his search the memory of your little scratch is multiplying tenfold, what if you need stitches, what if you're permanently scarred across the face -

- until he sits you down and passes the clean rag across your face and oh, it's already stopped bleeding. It doesn't even need a bandage

The sheer relief has him cackling hysterically with tiny tears in his eyes, burying his face in your shoulder and asking for your forgiveness between sobs of laughter

It's also the stress of a long week getting to him, once five minutes have passed and he's still shaking you go pour a glass of something strong for the two of you to share and take your mind off of things

Asra

Both hands clasped over their mouth, eyes wide with horror

You can see tears threatening to pool in his eyes, he hurt you, how could he hurt you

As soon as you make a move towards them they are dashing to your side and brushing a shaky hand across your face to get a better look at it

Using healing magic as soon as you give him permission and then double and triple checking that there's no mark leftover

You're able to pull them out of their little spiral by asking them to kiss it better

That makes him laugh, and then he's pulling you closer and covering your face with smiling kisses

Will apologize for hurting you, and then for not giving you more credit to handle it

They'll stop feeling bad about it if you get the elephant out if the room by teasing him about it

"Yeah, you say you like my face, and then you go slicing it up with a hair comb, call me crazy but I'm getting mixed signals here..."

Hides his face in shame with the prettiest blush each time, "I said I was sorry, MC!"

Nadia

Utterly horrified. How could she. You asked her to do the simplest thing and she injured you instead

Completely at a loss on how to respond. She doesn't know first aid, she thinks one is supposed to elevate the injured area, but it's on your face and you're already standing up

It's on your face. She's officially responsible for scarring the greatest living work of art in the world, she'll never forgive herself

Her facial expression is the kind you'd expect to see on the kid who broke the cookie jar, not the Countess of Vesuvia

You're making your way across the room, holding in a giggle at the unusual look on her face, trying to tell her that you're fine without laughing

She's not convinced until you take a damp handkerchief and dab away the little drop of blood, showing a barely visible scratch underneath

"... oh." *recomposes herself* "well I suppose you didn't defeat the Devil for nothing."

You can see the little smile playing at the corners of her mouth and you know exactly how to make it blossom

"You have quite the arm, my lady."

Muriel

Be kind to him, he has trauma and from his perspective the sight of blood is all he needs to think that his worst fear is coming true

The first thing you do is use the edge of your towel to wipe off your face so there's only the scratch left

Then you're pulling him by the hand to sit down while Inanna climbs in his lap to ground him

Right about now he's realizing that technically someone could say he's overreacting so now he's flushing red and embarrassed and thinking about ways to hide

Obviously you're not going to let him hide or belittle himself, a trigger is a trigger regardless of how small it may seem to an outsider

Once he's taken a few deep breaths he'll steel himself to look at you before you even plan to work towards that and assess the damage

Oh, it really is just a scratch. There's not even any blood visible anymore

You're not going to tease him about it but Inanna will

Portia

She's laughing before you can even process what just happened

Her preferred method of sisterly comfort is a fist to the gut, mostly she's impressed at the fact that she could throw a comb that dangerously

She's also got her handkerchief in hand, pressing it to your forehead while you both giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation

She'll put a little bandaid on it too

The rest of the evening will be "injured warrior" themed

"Oh no, my dear MC, you have returned from war with a most horrible disfigurement! Whatever shall I do!"

She's doing this with her version of a posh Vesuvian accent, which layers hilariously over her natural Nevivon pronunciation

She'll comb your hair for you as her version of an apology

Can and will threaten you, Pepi, and Ilya with the hair comb in the future

"You leave me no choice. You laugh now, but if you do not help me wash the dishes I will remind you what these prongs are truly capable of!"

Lucio

"Oopsie."

The irony hits you that for once this is the completely appropriate response for him to make to his mistake

He can tell almost immediately that you're fine, he knows what major head wounds can look like and this ain't that

Grabbing a discarded shirt and tiptoeing across the room to you Captain Jack Sparrow style, he's dabbing the blood away gingerly and squinting at the scratch leftover like it's offended him

"We should get rid of that comb. It's weirdly shaped so it can't be aimed."

He's honestly not that bothered. He knows you're made of tough stuff, he knows you both got worse scratches than this earlier walking through a thorny patch of underbrush

If you decide to give him grief for it he'll suggest you throw the comb back at him, just so you're even

If you do and he doesn't duck and it does successfully scratch him too he'll be very proud of your matching battle wounds

"You aren't actually mad at me though, right?"

[lurkingshan]

10 Things I Love About Ossan's Love Returns

Y’all. Y'ALL. I am stunned right now. I am verklempt. I never thought I would end up here. But here I am.

I bounced hard off the original Ossan's Love. Like, hard. I DNF'd and immediately memory holed just about everything I knew about it. But people I trust (namely @isaksbestpillow and @twig-tea) said this new series was an improvement on the original, and that I didn't have to go back and try rewatching the first series to dive into this one. So of course I, a jbl devotee, had to give it the old college try.

AND TO MY SHOCK AND AWE, I LOVE IT. This show is excellent. This is Japanese media at its absolute best, showcasing the precision in writing, directing, editing, and acting that they can reach when they are firing on all cylinders. This is the kind of comedy only a Japanese production can get right, because it requires a mastery of all these elements that you just can't get in less mature filmmaking industries. This is the best example I have ever seen of this kind of broad comedic style grounded in real stakes.

So let me tell you why this show, which is available for the international audience on Gaga (and with subs coming from Sirii, as well!), is worth your time:

This is a story about an established relationship between adult characters. Y'all know how I feel about the dearth of this we get in drama! Maki and Haruta have been long distance for four years and are moving in together to start their married life as this show begins.

The writing is unbelievably strong. Everything that happens matters, the characters always make sense, and the jokes are genuinely so fucking funny.

Kurosawa, or Chief, as I refer to him, is one of the funniest characters of all time, in any drama. The way this man had me laughing out loud in every scene! I felt like I got a workout.

This show is a feat of editing. I have been watching a string of shows recently that are getting hamstrung by bad editing, so let me tell you, it was a true pleasure to watch a drama that executes editing tricks so deftly and with such an eye toward sharpening its story and enhancing its jokes.

It has excellent female side characters. We have Chizu, my favorite lady bestie who is here to whip Haruta into shape at all times, and Chuoko, an actual archer who also has her own little romance going, and Haruta's mom, an unbothered legend who just wants to eat her food and get to her dates with her boyfriend.

There's a mystery! Next door to Haruta and Maki are two creepy mfers (brothers?) who are Up To Something. Or not! I don't know but I’ll find out!

We are getting an actual dialogue about gay marriage. Haruta and Maki consider themselves married, but have no legally binding contract and have not yet had a wedding, and they talk about this and their feelings about it often as they are negotiating their lives together.

We may have some aroace rep happening?? This is still pending but my radar is pinging hard for Takegawa to join the incredibly shortlist of explicitly aro and/or ace characters in bl.

DID I MENTION THIS SHOW IS FUCKING HILARIOUS. I cannot overstate the number of times this drama had me straight cackling in three short episodes. I had to get up and do some laps to walk it off.

The show is extremely well paced and I trust it not to waste my time. No small thing in these bl streets! The odd episode order (9) and tight pacing of each of the first three episodes tells me the creators of this show know exactly what they are doing and how much time they need to execute their vision.

This show is airing live for the next six weeks and I strongly encourage you to watch it and come join the fun with us!

[disastercyborgecho]

SOBB Week #4 [Both Prompts]

I made myself cry with this one boys

@summer-of-bad-batch

Prompt: Cadets

Prompt: “You really think you’re going without me? Not going to happen.”

CW: Death (the gentle, soft kind, that we all hope awaits us)

One of my favorite lines from this:

'But he and his brothers were collared beasts no longer. They were standing on shaking new legs, reborn as something gentler, with teeth never meant to rip and tear and hurt. All learning to walk together.'

Something about those dog metaphors ruins me every time. I wanted to explore the depression that Echo struggles with, and how that looks when someone doesn't have a name for it, but still faces it head on every day. How it looks with a found family that you didn't necessarily ask for, not at first. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Comments/constructive criticism welcome :)

***

No Longer a Biting Beast

Song Listened to while writing: Half-Return by Adrianne Lenker

Echo knew that the Bad Batch considered him family. He understood that logically, emotionally, what have you. But deep down, just under his heart where his body was still his and not machine, he felt as though he was an outsider to a group of people that knew each other in a way he would never understand.

They were cadets together. Boys together, for however short it had been.

Before Order 66, before everything had gotten worse and gotten better all at once, Echo could not help step into the role of observer easily aboard the Marauder.

He would watch Hunter and Wrecker play-fight while he settled down in the cockpit, cackling and wrestling each other to the floor with juvenile energy, laughing as they held each other down, Wrecker tugging Hunter’s bandana into his eyes and shouting with glee and Hunter claiming “That’s still cheating, you know! Doesn’t matter we’re not tubies anymore!” 

As they shared rations before bunking down, he would watch the way Crosshair and Tech would pick apart the food they didn’t like, passing it back and forth wordlessly until both ended up with a full meal of something they actually enjoyed. It was practiced and calm, something done even running on little to no sleep because the same thing had been done since they were only 5 years out of the tube. Echo would eat his own rations, dry on his tongue, and have to look away, because the person that he used to share with was gone forever. 

It wasn’t as though Echo was trying to be an outsider. He had joined CF 99 because he was one already in his old battalion. He saw it on Rex’s face, eyes so tired for someone so young still, watching regs that used to be Echo’s brothers sneer at him or avoid him as best they could. Rex didn’t approve, but there was only so much one man could do, and both he and Echo knew it. It was war, and if Echo didn’t fit, then he would go somewhere where he could keep fighting. It was all any of them knew. 

In battle, Echo didn’t feel separated from his new brothers, not anymore anyway. They had practiced their formations, their plans, everything, until he was just another cog in a perfect bloody machine. He pretended like he didn’t crave that feeling of anonymity, just another face among identical faces, in every other moment of his life. 

But inevitably, he would find himself back in the cockpit of the Marauder, watching a scene play out in front of him that drove home how long these men had known each other. An inside joke, a reference to a battle he wasn’t there for, and memories of cadet training that Echo would never understand. It was bitter in his mouth alongside rations he couldn’t share.

When Omega joined them, when Crosshair left, he was too busy to stick his fingers in the hole left in his chest by trauma and isolation. He had to keep Omega safe. Keep his brothers safe.

And with Cross gone, everyone was feeling out a new space in a family that suddenly, painfully, looked very different. But then Cross was back, and everything was different. And everything was the same. Because these men had been cadets together, and that would never change, and Hunter and Wrecker were still too used to only one other man to wrestle with to ask Echo to join, and Tech and Cross only exchanged food with one another. Because every little thing that was a happy moment from their ‘childhood’ they guarded like feral dogs, latching onto it and shaking it to make sure it would stay with them forever. Echo couldn’t blame them.

Echo thinks that perhaps this is why he left to join Rex in the end. Because he was a dog too, his teeth blunt from gnawing on something long rotten, and he craved something new to rip into. He craved the familiar meat of identical faces and identical voices and a language passed down and taught in secret to those coming after them, holding onto anything that they could call their own besides their names. 

But too soon, sooner than others because of metal veins and gears in his heart, Echo became an old dog, teeth gone and fur patchy. He wanted to keep fighting, keep chasing something to fill up that hole in his chest, but Rex placed a heavy calloused hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest, handprint warm where it was once painted onto armor, and he pressed their foreheads together. They both had more wrinkles now, but Echo could remember when they were both young, moving through the ranks. When they were cadets, too. 

“Go home, vod’ika,” Rex whispered. “It’s okay to rest. It’s time.” 

So Echo went home. 

Pabu was the same as when he had last seen it, but more faces there looked like his own had when he was with the 501st, when he was still whole. And there were the faces that he knew so well now, too, waiting for him. 

He hadn’t realized how much he had missed them until the moment that he saw them all there, curled up in the sun, faces tanned and relaxed. Happy. 

Omega glanced up, and when she saw him she squealed in happiness and sprinted toward him as though a string pulled her there uncontrollably. Echo scooped her up without hesitation, laughing with her, tears in his eyes, before pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m home, vod’ika,” he whispered to her. “I’m home.” 

His brothers joined them, pulled to him just as Omega had, and the hole in his chest didn’t feel like it was so big.

It was still there as he carved out a space for himself on Pabu. It would probably never leave. But he and his brothers were collared beasts no longer. They were standing on shaking new legs, reborn as something gentler, with teeth never meant to rip and tear and hurt. All learning to walk together.

Slowly, painfully sometimes, Echo stitched a patch over the hole.

The threads were made of his brothers, of his sister. Of Cross’s shaking hand, of Tech’s pink scars still raw and new, of Wrecker’s fishing lures strung through their kitchen, and Hunter’s jackets left draped over the couch in their living room. Of Omega and her friends leaving dirty boots by their doorstep and falling asleep tangled up together in Echo’s bed as he told them stories of his own days as a cadet, tangled up with his brothers telling their own. Winding together until they were indistinguishable. 

In this way, he aged. Grey hair, crow’s feet from laughter, the whole nine yards. And so did his brothers. They may not have been boys together, but they made their final home together. They grew old together. It was not something any of them had believed could happen, but here they were. On their porch in Pabu, watching the sun set over the water, rocking gently in chairs woven and built by Wrecker and Tech, painted bright yellows and blues by Crosshair. Tech was asleep on Cross’ shoulder, and Hunter held a soft smile on his face as the sun warmed the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. Wrecker was drawing something in a notebook, the familiar scratches of his pencil on paper a soft lullaby. Echo looked out at the sun, at his home, and then back at his family. And he realized that he felt like he fit. That he was going to join the stars among people that loved him most. He sighed, and leaned his head back in his chair. He was not scared, as the darkness approached. He welcomed it, after all this time. And as he had one foot on one side of the veil and one on the other, he saw him. 

Fives was standing next to his chair, a hand on his shoulder, but he did not look like Echo remembered him. He was old too. His hair had grayed, his beard grown out, and smile lines settled deep on his face. He looked down at Echo and grinned, and that was still the same. He beckoned Echo toward the light, and Echo stood to follow. Then he felt something tug at his other shoulder. He looked behind him, and saw his brothers. 

They were still in their chairs as the sun slowly set on the bad batch, but they also stood with him, and Hunter, who had stopped him, smiled. 

“You really think you’re going without us? Not going to happen.”

His family nodded. 

“We’re going together.” Crosshair added, determined as always.

And Echo couldn’t ask for anything else.

As they followed Fives into the stars, their bodies left warm and asleep in the fading sun, they became young again.

Six cadets made their way to the next life, laughing and stumbling over one another as they looked forward to their next adventure. One they would face together.

***

AO3 Link

[pursuitseternal]

“Our Blood: Into the Fire” 🔥 The Battle for Avernus🔥

Astarion x Cordehlia (Tav) | E | 5K

Summary: Arriving in Avernus, Cordehlia and Astarion reunite with old friends to stand with them along side Raphael. Facing Zariel, Mizora, and her legions is no small task, but they are an indomitable force, side by side (by side)

CW: canon typical battle gore, minor character deaths, decapitations, Wyll/Karlach flirty tension, Astarion and Cordy are that make out couple in every group, Raphael’s Ascended Fiend Form, Kill Your Abuser x 2

Prev Ch | Ao3 link | Orig. fic | List

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

The air was thick with blood and rife with soot. Cordehlia breathed it in and cringed. Too many times had she inhaled the same stink and been coated with the crimson droplets and smeared with black ash before. This wasn’t some skirmish against Cultists, not some half-brained attempt to save the realms with her closest companions. This was war. These were enemy lines soaked in gore and graves. A familiar scene for the Bone Picker, she shrugged off those memories quickly once she felt his gauntleted hand in her own.

Astarion cocked one hip, surveying the lands where they arrived from the portal. “Well,” he crooned, tone rippling with judgment, “you’d think the stink of sulphuric gas would cover the general rot of corpses. Guess I was wrong…”

Cordehlia’s lips pressed in a smile, her brows arching in pure sarcastic delight. “It's quite a sight,” she hummed in mock approval as she heard the devil’s footsteps draw along the other side of her. “Perhaps it is the most impressive battlefield I’ve ever surveyed.”

“A high compliment to come from my beloved, Bone Picker,” Raphael’s rumbling tones sounded right in her ear.

Astarion drew up beside her, rigid in stance. His armor gleamed in the infernal glow—the silver elven set they had found on their journeys. It was the armor he most trusted to protect his life, to guard him as he guarded her.

Raphael’s rumbling chuckle nearly caught him off-guard as the devil rounded behind them both. “Easy, Lord Astarion,” he drawled out that title. “Your consort needs only to draw on her peerless skills in combat, and then you two can go back on your merry way,” his thick brow arched, watching as his words only made the Vampire Lord hold himself all the more tensely. More fiercely. And he laughed louder still. “Just think, a few dead devils and cambions, and you can go right back to bed.”

The meaning was not lost on either of them. And Cordehlia only grew all the more determined. “Enough,” she snapped. “Battlefields are for silencing breath, not wasting it.”

Two sets of brows raised in surprise, one dark set and one silver. “Yes, my Lady,” and “Yes, my darling,” were both crooned out in response.

“I need battle plans and details on your enemy, how many imps, where have you last spotted them, how great is the strength of our foe.” She began her list of demands, making for the grand sprawling battle tents of Raphael’s camp.

That was when an old scream of joy sounded, the only warning Cordehlia got before two strong, red arms clutched for her and braced her against a warm armored chest. “For fucks sake, Cordy!” Karlach burst into cackling laughter. “I’d ask ‘what in the hells are you doing here?’ but I fear your hubby would bite me at that humor.”

Asrarion scoffed, even as he grinned from ear to ear, fangs on full display. “You’ve somehow managed to get worse at humor, Karlach,” he teased with a smirk.

“Most likely my fault,” a warm voice chimed in as Wyll approached, horns and all. “I am not known for the sharpness of my wit, only my blade.”

“Ha, ha,” Astarion pretended to chortle, a good show, despite the actual crinkling lines at his eyes that Cordehlia noticed, a true tell that he was happy to see their old friends. “You’re always such a good influence on people, Wyll.”

“Not on you, Lord Astarion,” Wyll smiles wide. “But regardless, we will see those Ascendant powers put to use once more in battle, and for that I’m glad. Zariel won’t be an easy foe to take down.”

“Zareil?” both vampires scoff, nearly identical in disbelief.

“That’s right, bitches,” Karlach’s chest flamed searingly bright, punching one fist into her own palm, a grin on her red face that was truly diabolical with joy. “It’s payback time, and there is no one else I’d rather have here for it than you two.”

Cordehlia’s vision went red, her body brimming with blinding rage. Rage at Raphael for hiding the identity of their foe, even more rage at him for bringing Karlach and Wyll under his thumb and service without informing her. Her jaw locked, her hands fisted, Cordehlia marched off on her long legs towards the grandest tent of the encampment. Astarion called after her, his own body leaning forward as he hurried after her with all his vampiric speed.

But her rage was too great to wait for him.

Arm flinging open the flap to the largest vermillion tent she had ever seen, she burst into its flame-lit shadow. “Fuck you, Raphael,” she snarled, unnanounced and uninvited.

The devil rounded, his own golden helldusk armor glinting in the flickering torch light. His swarthy face drew into a leering smirk. “Well, if you insist my beloved Bone Picker,” he crooned as he looked down his nose.

Cordehlia let the insinuation slide, too furious for such games. Before she could stop herself, that shining dagger steadied her palm, pressing against the little skin of his neck still visible. “Zariel?” she hissed, enraged and feral. “You brought us here for the Archduchess herself, not some mild-mannered gang of imps.”

Raphael’s rumbling laughter vibrated down the steel of her blade. “And isn’t she a foe worthy of your illustrious reputation, my lady?”

She pressed the blade just a little harder, enough to draw blood to the surface without breaking his skin. “I want to know your game, Raphael, not more deals or tricks or secrets between us.”

“For you, my favorite harbinger of death, I’ll give it to you, and I’ll give it to you straight,” the devil smirked, his lips drawn to reveal his flawlessly white teeth.

“Well,” that silken voice purred from the entryway behind her, “seems you’ve earned yourself a knife to the throat, devil.” Astarion drew up right beside his love. “Not many men earn that right, let alone survive it. In fact, I almost say I’m jealous…” He ran his gloved hand down Cordehlia’s pale, smirking cheek, and she shivered. “You never threaten me at knifepoint anymore, darling.”

“You’ve earned more than a knife against your body as incentive, my love,” Cordehlia purred right back, melting under that single brush of his finger as she resheathed her blade. Then she nipped at his chin with her own glittering fangs, just ostentatiously enough to make Raphael’s breath quicken. “Now tell me the truth of why we are here,” she honed her own scarlet gaze at the devil, “and you tell the exact details of your contracts with my other companions, or so help me, I’ll feed your balls to the next Orthon I find.”

Astarion chuckled, marveling at her brutality.

And so did Raphael. He eased his stance, fidgeting with the clasps of his armor. “There are no contracts for your dear Hellion and her beloved Blade,” his replied, his tone sweet like honey in its confidence. “They work for me for pay, a nice little livelihood and budding romance between them, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Don’t lie,” Cordehlia hissed.

The devil merely glanced at her as he wriggled his breastplate over the expanse of his chest. “And why would I ever offend you by lying, my bloodthirsty lady? I might be guilty of omitting details, or downplaying certain aspects of our relations, but I have never once lied.”

Those feminine eyes narrowed at him, assessing him. “Fine,” she replied. “Then no omissions or diminutions. What is your plan, what is your endgame for my lord and me?”

“It’s simple,” Raphael drew back to face them both, the Ascendant and his Consort. “It’s a small matter of balance. I helped you, Astarion, gain the power for which you longed, power to free you from your old master and to make your long-lost betrothed your eternal bride. I merely ask for your help in returning the favor ever so slightly. I want your blades in the final fight against Zariel, aiding me on my way to ruling Avernus for my own.”

His voice rang with greater ambition, and Cordehlia sensed so much more to those plans that laid beyond merely ruling Avernus. It made her fiery hair stand on end.

But it was Astarion’s silken purr that grounded her back in the present. “This is it, devil, our final act to free us from our debt to your favors.”

Raphael gave that deep, rolling chuckle. “Oh, I’m aware just how important freedom, true freedom is to you, Lord Astarion,” he taunted back. “You aid me against the Archduchess and I swear, all further deals will start anew, and they will be entirely mutually… satisfactory.”

“And our friends?” Astarion casually rolled his shoulders, letting his elegant elven armor clank. “We merely want to ensure even their roles in your court and employ are mutually… satisfactory,” he drolled out the same words in a mimicking tone.

The meaning was clear, the warning given that they were under his protection. And hers. Raphael’s eyes darted between the two undead warriors, that same old confident mask on his face. “I promise you, hand to your undead, beating, Ascendant heart that they are free to leave my employ when they wish, and that until such time, they enjoy my protection and my patronage.” He scoffed a laugh. “Do I really fall so short from your favor in your crimson eyes?”

Neither replied, but that tension between them snapped into place, that way their eyes flickered at one another a sign of their mental bond sending all sorts of silent commentary and secrets.

“Very well,” Cordehlia replied, a cold smile on her lips and a hardness at the corner of her eyes, “show us your battle plans, and we will help you conquer Avernus for your own.”

Pleased, his smile broadened, and Raphael gave that bass-toned chuckle. “It’s so refreshing to hear it put so bluntly, my lady. Thank you.”

“If there is one thing I am familiar with, devil, it’s recognizing the power of ambition,” Cordehlia appraised him, a brow arched, a hip cocked. “Whether it is an ambition to serve us or be check, that remains to be seen…”

“Oh, but don’t you know by now I live to serve you… Bone Picker,” he crooned. “You have nothing to fear in Avernus from me, my lady. But I can’t say the same of our enemies.” He gestured to the war table behind him, a massive circular table heaven-laden with maps and massive. “Shall we?”

Fire and blood in the air, a smile on her face, Cordehlia sliced through another imp as it flew straight for her face. Karlach’s hyena-laugh at her side as she took down five in one swing of her greataxe made Cordehlia’s heart soar. The hot air kept her battle braids off her face, letting the warrior-elf turn her head easily to see her companions.

“Never a dull moment,” she smiled, all fangs and teeth as she watched Wyll darting just beyond the Tiefling.

“Gods… I thought I was done hearing your little quips at every turn of our adventures,” Astarion’s voice panted at her right hand. His pale skin spattered already beyond recognition, blood blooming over his white curls. Making Cordehlia truly hunger for blood.

She just licked her blade clean in the brief breath of respite they had now between waves of foes. “My love, I thought you loved to… ‘go turn someone inside out…’” she taunted, another lick along the other side of her dagger.

His wry, humored look made her chuckle. “Seems someone is feeling vicious and nostalgic, hmm?” He laughed breathlessly, quickly spinning to dispatch another small imp as it curved toward them. One arrow through the infernal air from his bow, and it landed with a thud. Astarion gave a dark-humored grin. “And yes, my dear, before you can make the comment, yes, that… is… blood.”

Oh, the playful yet withering glare she gave him was delicious, so much so, he couldn’t resist pulling her into an armor-clacking kiss right there on the battlefield. Her mouth tasted of the burning brine of imp blood, but gods, it felt good. “I missed this…” he whispered against her fangs and tongue.

“Hey-o!” Karlach’s boisterous voice and presence drew near. “I forgot how much they locked lips on the battlefield. How ‘bout you Wyll?”

“I didn’t forget,” Wyll replied, panting and drawing closer to their Tiefling friend. His voice was strangely sweet like honey, given the rivers of blood under their feet and the stink of sulphur around them. “Makes you almost think they’re on to something…”

Cordehlia shoved herself away, nearly certain she was about to watch them kiss for themselves…

“Get your hands off each other and back on your blades, imbeciles,” that heated voice crooned from above. The beating of leather wings a portent of Raphael’s arrival again; he landed in the middle of them with a thud. He glared around, an icy stare in those fiery black and yellow cambion eyes. “If you are quite finished fraternizing with one another, we do have an Archduchess to overthrow.”

His wings folded in aggressively, sending a blast of stinging hot air in their faces.

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, we’ve broken through their flanks, just as you suggested, my dear…” Astarion raised Cordehlia’s bloodied and gauntleted hand to his lips. “So where, devil, do we find your foe to overthrow and the stinking, volcanic ledge from which to throw her over?”

Raphael leered, unamused at the jest. “Your humor is not as razor sharp as it once was, Ascendant. Let’s hope your blades still are.”

Cordehlia had to turn her head and ignore the pointed look Karlach was throwing her, if only to preserve her love’s pride.

Suddenly, fire swirled, the black, molten form of a devil started to form. Big navy wings, a lithe and curvaceous figure, bright orange hair… “Well, if it isn’t the pests Zariel has sent me to exterminate…”

“Mizora,” Wyll snapped, as close to enraged and feral as he could be.

The cambion looked fearsome, decked in her silver chain link mail, spikes of black, dripping blood lining her armor in rows. “Oh, Wyll, pet, it’s good to see you. But, for as much as I’ve missed you since your pact ended, I’m here to put you down for good, you and your pesky little friends…” She eyed Raphael, his own winged form bristling in her presence. “You too, hungry little cat, trying to take what isn’t yours with your greedy little claws…”

“This cat will devour all nine layers of the hells once I’m through,” Raphael snarled, his tail twitching. “Until then, I’ll have to sate myself on the blood of you and your mistress.” He flapped his great wings to rush in attack, but Mizora only cackled as she flew just as fast.

“Raphael!” Cordehlia screamed after him, making the devil draw up suddenly short in the air. “You can’t let her lead us off our quarry.” She drew out her blade. “We need you to face Zariel, not her minion.”

“I’ll take Mizora,” Wyll panted, his grip tight on his rapier. “It’s about time I made her pay for all her abuse. But I’ll need another at my side…” his mismatched eyes looked towards Karlach.

“Not me, Blade, I’ve got my own asshole to slay. If Zariel’s going to bleed, I’m going to be the one to see what color her blood runs.”

“I’ll go, Wyll,” Astarion clapped a hand on the Blade of Avernus’ shoulder. “Besides, Mizora tried to sleep with my Bride back in our adventuring days.” He raised his brow in wicked delight at the slightest taste of revenge. “And I’m not one to forget…”

“Who would dare?” Raphael leered again.

“Well, a better question is, who would dare to seek that without me, honestly. What an idiot.” Astarion pulled Cordehlia close. Nuzzling her neck, he took a shallow little bite, licking the small trickle of blood that flowed. “See you once it’s through my love,” he whispered.

She bit his neck and did the same, a small taste of him before they parted. “Yes, you will, my love.”

One more glance at one another, and the Blade and the Ascendant bolted off across the hellscape.

“Well, my Hellion and my Bone Picker, let’s go get us an archdevil,” Raphael grinned his pointy-toothed smile.

Scorching, volcanic air rushed around them as the Wyll and Astarion raced after Zariel’s right hand. Mizora dove and weaved around the field, making for the stinking waters of the Styx. At last, Wyll spotted an outcrop of black rock, running for it to leap off its sharp edge, reaching his blade just as she swooped in reach. “This ends now, for my father and for me,” Wyll shouted, his blade cutting down Mizora, steel slicing through the pink membrane of her wing. Three arrows struck into her with heavy thwacks, Astarion grinned savagely, delighting in his dexterous accuracy. Each arrow grouped right where a devil’s heart should be. The cambion tumbled awkwardly from the red skies, her wings thrashing with loud gusts of wind before her body crash landed on the ground.

“You maggots, think you can beat me?” Mizora flailed as she clambered to her feet. “You think your efforts in Raphael’s name won’t go unpunished by the rest of the hells? Zariel will wear your fangs as earrings, little Ascendant.”

“Oh, not if my Bride finds her first,” Astarion hissed, quicker than the eye could catch, he launched another arrow into the base of her blue-columned neck. Enough to maim, but not to keep her from talking. “But that’s why you tried to claim her for your own, isn’t it? Couldn’t resist my own little hellcat, my darling spitfire.” Two strong, pale hands held up her head by her horns. “No one takes what’s mine from me,” he hissed through fangs, “and no one entraps my dearest companions without facing retribution. Isn’t that right, Wyll?”

Astarion’s crimson eyes scanned his friend, the fearless Blade, only to notice his hand shaking on the hilt of his faithful weapon. Heart aching, he knew that look, had felt it before as he clung to Rhapsody’s hilt to carve the marching ruins in his own abuser’s back. “Do it now, Wyll,” he said, steady and sure, as if he could give Wyll the resolve for which he was searching. “End this, do it for those years you lost to her torment.”

Wyll’s mismatched eyes just glared wider, flickering between Astarion’s blood-spattered face and Mizora as each breath she drew grew weaker.

“Make her suffer your sting, once and for all,” Astarion smirked, yanking those horns harder, the stink of her blood’s acid making his stomach curl.

Fingers regripped around Wyll’s hilt, one swing of his rapier, and it was done. One cambion head hung in the vampire’s hands, one body fell at their feet with a heavy thud. And Wyll laughed— a deep, inane, rolling belly laugh, the kind Astarion had never heard before. His bloodied glove clapped on top of Astarion’s shoulder. “Vampire Ascendant, I, for one, am grateful to have not been a good influence on you. That felt….”

Astarion smiled, catching his own breath, “Really fucking good, right?”

“Yeah,” Wyll laughed again, more of his usual breathy chuckle as he took Mizora’s head by the horn in his own hand. “Really… fucking… good.”

Black stone walls echoed with the drag of his claws, their boney points scraping as he sauntered down the halls towards Zariel’s throne room. His throne room now. Raphael laughed from his distorted; deformed maw, his Ascended fiendish laugh like boulders crushed together. The only sound louder was the metallic dragging of his quarry behind him, Zariel’s armor torn asunder by his claws and his magic. He gave another bone-grinding laugh as he crouched his form low enough to enter the doors. Blood ran beneath his feet, red and hot and stinking, as his own chosen warriors decimated the remainders of her private guard. Their death cries were music to his fiendish ears.

He smiled, shaking his enormous, skin-tight abomination of a head, feeling inspired… words of glory coming to his tongue. He tossed Zariel’s half-mangled body to the foot of her dais, her human form crunching some more frail bones as she landed with a thud.

“To hells allegiance! Vows, to the blackest devil!

I dare damnation. To this point I stand

That both the worlds I give to negligence.

Let come what comes…”

A wall of fire consumed him as he shrunk back in size but never in power, that swarthy face of man gloating unscathed down at his nemesis.

“…only I’ll be revenged.”

His arm extended, magic coursed through the air, hot and consuming, pulling the Archduchess taut by her appendages. Stretching her on the rack of his mighty power.

Barely more now than a bald head and pure hate, Zariel writhed in the tendrils of Raphael’s magic. “Mephistopheles’ outcast halfbreed, you won’t live to enjoy your victory. I can guarantee it; that’s the way of the hells.”

Raphael merely closed his fist tighter, stretching the Archduchess’ limbs taut as his warriors sliced their way through the last of her fiends. Every step they took splashed in blood, more steaming as it flowed with every swipe of greataxe and dagger blades. Breathless and grinning with glee, Karlach and Cordehlia flanked their devil commander, both their faces now reddened afresh with blood-spatter and gore.

“You’re lucky, Archduchess, as the first to bear witness to my own ascension to power. With Avernus as mine to rule, it will be a matter of time before all the others fall to the same fate as you, Zariel. How fortunate you get to serve as the example. Your bald head will sit nicely on the gates of this palace.” Raphael turned his wry, delighted grin towards the Tiefling, her infernal engine thumping and grinning faster with her magnificent bloodlust and rage. “Wouldn’t you agree, Karlach?”

“Yeah, but only after I get to piss on it a few times,” she scowled, her vocal chords frayed and strained from her battle cries.

Raphael gestured with pure gallantry to the Hellion. “She’s yours, my dear. Unleash that heat of rage once and for all…”

Kalach’s fire flared, sparks dancing from her hair and skin as she shifted her axe over her shoulder. With a twirl of his fingers, Zariel’s body bent to kneel in the pools of blood, her arms behind her back, her head bent low…

…As it should be before him, Raphael gloated.

“My delightful Bone Picker, do make certain our friend doesn’t struggle so,” Raphael crooned at the vampiress, the blood coating her armor and skin matching the bloodlust glinting in her blood red eyes. A look of delight on her face, she sheathed her sword and dagger, entering into the tendrils of infernal magic. The sole of her boot kicked square in the middle of her back, a laugh rippling from her fanged smile. With all her vampiric might, she kept their foe pinned beneath her heel, and a single nod to Karlach was permission enough.

Flames burst, a flare of vengeance and heat, and Karlach gripped her weapon. Chest heaving, eyes wide, it took only one barbaric scream and one fell swing of her axe to end it all—her life of torture, her source of horror, and the day’s battle. Her axe slung back over her shoulder, Karlach reached for her trophy and tossed it at Raphael. “Hope you’re a better Archdevil,” she commented casually.

“I have every intent on being far superior,” Raphael crowed in reply, taking his trophy in hand. He gave his most pleasant smile, and relished the way his Tiefling commander with an engine for a heart seemed to bristle less than usual as he gave it.

A figure of almost pure red approached, her fangs were the only part of her face left free from blood, most likely because she had already licked them clean. Cordehlia glided over, coated in a fresh spray of archduchess blood. “Well, Raphael, congratulations are in order. Crownless, and yet Avernus is yours,” she refused to bow her head, but her eyes flickered with approval.

Raphael grinned despite the potential slight in decorum. In fact, he’d be disappointed if she had bowed to him or bent a knee. “No small thanks to my favorite, bloodied warrior of this and every age, my lady,” he replied, those velvet tones unable to convey just how much he meant them.

Cordehlia tipped her head back, surveying the damage wrought around them. “Well, the day is ours, and a rest and a feast are well overdue.”

“Say no more, my lady,” Raphael chuckled, snapping his fingers to swirl them in smoke. The throne room faded, instantly replaced with the heart of Raphael’s war camp.

Two feet back under her, and Cordehlia couldn’t wait to rest, her body ached in places it hadn’t for almost a year, not since those final battles against the armies of the Absolute. The stick of congealed blood grew thick, and while she wanted to rest and bathe, she first wanted… no, needed her feast.

She needed to taste him.

She could hear his heart beating across the crowd, its familiar thumbing making her hunger flame higher. Molten need, to touch him, to make sure he was unharmed and victorious, it drove her to race past cambions and other infernal beings as she shoved them out of her way.

“My love,” she purred the second they locked eyes. He was just as covered in gore-filth as she, the red spattered elegantly over his silver waves of hair still, even if he had washed his face. He grinned at her hungrily the second he saw her at last. Crashing and clanging, their armor slammed together as they embraced, their kiss all tongue and fangs and breaths to be reunited again. His fingers clutched around her chin, bringing her cheek against his mouth, his warm tongue swiping a lick up her pale skin.

“Darling, you are as messy a murderer as I am an eater. Just look at the state of you, tch.” He ran his thumb along her bottom lip, gathering the blood from her chin before he sucked that digit clean.

Cordehlia’s face twisted into a mocking grin, grabbing him by the collar and pulling his taunting lips to hers. “We deserve a feast, my love,” she murmured against his lips, “and you’re the one who’s going to join me in it.”

“Mmm,” he purred, “I do rather like that, you know.” A playful growl in his throat, and he nipped that bottom lip of hers.

“Gods, you two have only gotten worse, haven’t you,” Karlach boomed her teasing laugh.

“You have no idea,” Astarion replied, his eyes still locked on that beloved bloodspattered countenance as he caressed her.

Giving Karlach a bump from his shoulder to hers, Wyll chortled. “Oh, we have some ideas. It’s not like we didn’t spend weeks having to share camp and common rooms at the Elfsong with you.” He shook his great horned head. “Not like we didn't have to stop in streets and battlefields so you two could kiss.”

Mischief flashed in Cordehlia’s scarlet eyes as she impishly snapped her fangs in the air in front of Astarion’s face.

“Ah, how sweet to see that your bonds of friendship haven’t withered over time,” that velvet baritone broke the camaraderie, making the easy company they kept with one another stiffen back to formality as Raphael approached. He swaggered in slowly into their midst, his helldusk armor still spattered from combat as well. A cambion servant followed in tow with a silver tray to wine chalices ready for consumption.

“A toast to the victors?” he crooned, handing a cup to Wyll first. “First, to the Blade of Avernus, a powerful weapon I’m glad to have in my magnanimous employ.”

Wyll tipped his horned head. “It’s been… refreshing to find a devil who did not demand soul nor contract.”

“I do what I can for those who eliminated the Illithid threat from your realm and mine,” Raphael smirked, raising his cup.

“Bullshit,” Karlach barked a laugh as she grabbed her own chalice from the tray. “You’re just soft on us because we conveniently freed the crown of Karsus from the Dead Three,” she barely stopped talking to down the wine to its dregs in one go. “That and you want to keep your Bone Picker on your good side, eh?”

Raphael arched a single thick, dark brow. “What kind of devil would I be if I didn’t ensure the faithfulness of allies of renown, so bloodsoaked and deadly. You all had your hands in a feat of great and mighty valor. I’d be a fool to let our longstanding connection slip from my claws.” His gaze settled square on the Tiefling. “That reminds me, Advocatus Diaboli. You’ll be Advocatus no longer, Karlach. Legatus Legionis, the title and position are yours. My commander in the field, my arm in matters of politics beyond the hells.” Raphael nodded in Wyll’s direction as Karlach’s face beamed with joy. “Perhaps a return to Baldur’s Gate to escort the next Duke Ravenguard to his proper place, now that Avernus is mine. You’ll need to be as effective in the politics of the material plane as you are in battle, my Hellion, so…”

“YOU’RE GONNA FIX MY HEART?” Karlach screamed at full volume, giddy and bouncing like a child.

Raphael’s rolling, rumbling chuckle sounded almost genuine to see her gratitude and mirth. “You’ll need it if you’re going to be my conduit of influence to our Duke of Baldur’s Gate, the Vampire Ascendant and his mighty Bone Picker…”. He turned to find the allies in question, two cups of a different sort of red liquid as its contents awaiting them on the tray. “To our victory, again,” the new Archdevil proclaimed, dulcet tone befitting his new status. Allies and an army and a circle of hell at his command…. Not much was missing, he grinned as they all downed their drinks.

“You know, that was fun,” Karlach added, a wide incorrigible grin on her face. Her heavy hand came squarely down on the devil's shoulder. “Thanks for a good time, Claws.”

Raphael’s brown arched, his swarthy face drawing into a grin that showed amusement and warning. “Claws?”

Karlach gaped at him, almost sloshing her wine as she huffed with her whole body. “Oh, come on! You know, like when we first met you… down came the…. Is your memory that bad?”

A sardonic sneer on his face, Raphael started to walk away, snapping his fingers to refill their chalices to near bursting.

“Am I still your Legal Whatever-it-was?” she called after him.

That easy camaraderie returned, laughter and claps on the back all around. “Don’t worry, I think he likes it,” Astairon grinned, nodding his head in twisted delight.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

A/N: Raphael has a… soft spot… for Cordehlia, one that maybe clouds his usually twisted manipulative plans with wanting to earn her good will. His generosity towards Karlach and Wyll is maybe more a means of ensuring Cordhelia’s favor than any form of kindness.

And… just maybe… he’s going to cash in that favor in our next update. 🦇 x 🐦‍⬛ x 😈

2nd A/N: I stole from The Bard for my evil devil Bard. Raphael’s poem of victory is from Laertes in “Hamlet” 💀

[jiveyuncle]

Fanart of different scenes from the fic I reread all over again every time it updates. Mwah. Love it so much. Read Chasing Stars and Memories by @erithel on AO3. It’s witty, heartbreaking, heartwarming, funny af, uhhggggg. Bruh the flirting has me grinning and cackling so hard every time. This story is sooo good ❤️ And then, when you’re done, go read the rest of her stories because they’re literally all just *chef’s kiss*

It was like being back in the Quantum Abyss and being shown a vision of the future he had wanted for so long. Except this was not his future, and he knew, now, it could never be. This was the future he could have had – if only he was not himself. Or, Lance and Keith fall through a rift in space and end up in an alternate reality – and in searching for a way home, they discover they may lose far more than they’re willing to give up.

Read Chasing Stars and Memories here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33811804/chapters/84056641

[snazzy-suit]

Luigi: Liaison of Ghosts Chapter 9 Snippet(s)

Heyoooo I'm currently sick af and thought I'd share a couple snippets of the next LLoG AU installment. In this chapter, we see how the uneasy truce between Luigi and King Boo began. To no one's surprise, peace-talks following King Boo's release don't exactly go smoothly.

For context, Luigi, Mario, Gooigi, and King Boo are in an underground portion of E. Gadd's lab that's specifically designed to keep ghosts/spirits contained. The professor is watching the following events from the safety of an observation room. He communicates through an intercom system.

Currently, King Boo has snatched up Luigi in a large glove construct (think a smaller version of Master Hand) and is holding the man hostage...

___________________________

“Not another step, plumber! If you so much as twitch I will not hesitate to eat your scrawny brother!”

Mario freezes, aghast, and Luigi supposes he, too, should be alarmed by King Boo’s grisly threat. Instead, a memory drifts to the forefront of his mind, and Luigi feels himself relaxing minutely. He schools his features into some semblance of calm and meets Mario’s panicked gaze.

“He’s bluffing.”

Luigi is grateful his voice comes out level, and his confidence in his statement only rises when King Boo squawks indignantly.

“I most certainly am not!” the monarch snaps, voice shrill. “What could have possibly led you to draw such an idiotic conclusion?!”

“Gee, I don’t know,” Luigi begins flatly, “how about when you wanted to gargle bleach the first time you ever tasted me?” He looks to Mario, and deigns to elaborate. “Back at The Last Resort, King Boo slammed me into a door with his tongue—knocked the wind right out of me. He had the perfect chance to trap me in a portrait while I was catching my breath, but instead he chose to whine about how bad I tasted.”

The reactions to this little revelation are mixed. Mario looks like he isn’t sure whether to be horrified at Luigi’s close call or relieved by King Boo’s pettiness. Gooigi, if his gurgling laughter is any indication, finds it downright hilarious.

“First time?” E. Gadd murmurs through the speakers. “Stars above lad; just how many times were you in King Boo’s mouth that night?”

“…Professor, I am begging you to never repeat that in any capacity ever again.”

Gooigi laughs even harder. King Boo growls lowly, face heating with anger and no small amount of humiliation. He hefts Luigi higher with a snarl.

“How’s this for bluffing?” he hisses.

The construct grasping Luigi moves to hover over King Boo’s head, and the monarch quickly tilts back as they open their mouth. Luigi yelps when the large glove shifts so it is scruffing him by the back of his shirt. He now dangles precariously over tongue and toothy maw. Varying cries of alarm echo throughout the room. King Boo cackles, the metaphorical ball now back in his court.

But not for long.

_________________

(Let's jump ahead a bit in the scene, shall we?) Luigi has broken free from King Boo's grasp and an enraged Mario has powered up with a Super Star to deliver the ultimate beatdown. Luigi is quick to intervene before things go too far...

_________________

“Why are you still defending them?!” Mario demands, growing increasingly more frustrated with each passing second. “They just tried to eat you!”

“But they didn’t,” Luigi stresses.

“Only because you broke free!”

Luigi shakes his head. “No,” he refutes patiently, “they still wouldn’t have gone through with it.”

“How can you know that for sure?!”

“I already told you. Back at The Last Resort—”

“That was then!” Mario interjects. “This is now, Luigi. King Boo is trapped with nowhere to go. He could have just killed you out of spite!”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing!” Mario cries, cutting a hand through the air. “King Boo is dangerous and that’s never going to change! He’s just going to keep coming after us! Aren’t you tired of dealing with them?!”

“Aren’t you tired of dealing with Bowser?!” Luigi snaps.

Mario blinks back at Luigi, startled by his retort. “…what?”

“He’s dangerous, he’s tried to kill us multiple times, and he won’t stop abducting someone we care about,” Luigi says, counting off his fingers as he goes. “Who am I describing: King Boo or Bowser?”

Mario opens his mouth for a retort, but nothing impactful is forthcoming. His jaw works uselessly in the wake of his failed rebuttal. “That’s… that’s not a fair comparison.”

“You’re right,” Luigi agrees, “One of them gets invited to play tennis afterwards.”

“Luigi—”

“Do you not see the double-standard here?” Luigi continues sharply. “Look me in the eye and tell me it’s fair that Bowser—who attacks us and abducts Peach every other Tuesday—gets to walk free while King Boo—who has only targeted us three times—has to be imprisoned forever?”

Mario says nothing. It is silent but for the ambient hum of machinery. Even King Boo, always one to fill the air with his arsenal of targeted barbs and sardonic quips, has been rendered speechless. Luigi can feel the spectral monarch’s gaze boring into his back; it makes the hairs on his neck stand on end. He tries to ignore it. He keeps his focus on Mario, the latter struggling to meet his eyes.

The prismatic light enveloping Mario’s body begins to flicker—slowly, at first, but then in an increasingly rapid pattern until it finally snuffs out. Mario’s shoulders sag, whether it’s in defeat or weariness from the sudden loss of surging power, Luigi can’t say for certain. Luigi finds his own posture slouching, but with relief. He slowly closes the distance between them and places a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Look,” he begins quietly, lowering his voice to a more private volume, “I’m not exactly thrilled about all this either, but I made a promise to the other ghosts and spirits that I would free everyone. If I go back on my word without giving King Boo a proper chance, how are they supposed to trust me?”

Mario offers no verbal reply, but his grimace and averted gaze convey his discomfort well enough. Luigi sighs.

“Mario, you’re right to be wary of King Boo—I’m not trying to say otherwise. He’s one of the biggest threats we’ve ever faced. One of the few that’s ever…” Luigi trails off, a connection forming in his mind. “…gotten the upper hand on you.”

And as the words leave his mouth, Luigi is struck by a sudden realization. Why Mario’s reluctance to set King Boo free surpassed his own. Why Mario is seemingly content to let Bowser run amuck while simultaneously condemning King Boo for the same actions. Why he is so uncharacteristically angry.

Mario… is afraid.

___________________________

And that's it for now! This is all unedited and susceptible to change, so there's no telling what the final work will look like yet. As cruddy as I feel, it'll be a while before I can seriously focus on this again. Hopefully this little sneak peek will hold y'all over until it's ready!

[beargrisly]

GRIMMULQUI FIC RECS

Reawakened by TYBW, a long-time GrimmUlqui shipper stumbles out of its crypt in search of sustenance. The morsels it uncovers are too delicious not to share…

(The descriptions below are my own silly thoughts and don’t represent the authors in any way. In addition to the ratings, please also mind the authors' notes, tags and warnings!)

Apples by goldensprite (T)

Jaded, no-fucks-left-to-give Grimmjow finds born again Ulquiorra in the Soul Society. He’s lost his memories… but has gained the power of uwu. I was sooo thrilled to have stumbled upon this lovely fic.

Attrition by tragakes (lejf) (E)

GrimmUlqui fan or not, this fic deserves much love for the gorgeous writing and the brilliant take on Ulquiorra's psyche.

Conquest / Bequest by showmaster64x (E)

THE GRIMMULQUI SERIES OF ALL TIME.

Dead in Love by CrunchySalad (E)

This fic serves one trippy scene after another til it all comes together in a glorious oh shit moment. I LOVE the worldbuilding and the ingenuity of this piece.

Eye Can See You by chibi_zoe (E)

Ulquiorra finds creative uses for the gifts his momma Lord Aizen gave him. *Grimmjow voice* Damn Ulqui! Who’s a nasty thotty lil hollow?

Human Souls by caraminez (E)

An absolutely beautiful fic about love and loss. It hurted me bad but was so worth the ugly crying. If only I could re-live the magic of reading this for the first time...

After The Aftermath by Methoxyethane (T)

Aizenomics goes to shit and the Espada need new jobs. Grimmjow takes on the world's oldest profession while Ulquiorra attempts to Housewife. I was cackling and snorting at every other sentence.

love is just a bloodsport by elektra (M)

This fic is just AMAZING. Ulquiorra survives the battle with Ichigo without turning into pixie dust, but has lost all purpose. The setting is deliciously bleak and Grimmjow's voice is fantastic. 

Love Potion by MissMonie (T)

Behold the GrimmUlqui treasure trove that is MissMonie’s profile, where you'll find everything from demon summons to coffee shops. This one's an adorable Valentine's Day fic in which Grimmjow and Ulquiorra are no match for a meddling love god.

Scream for Me by TextBookDreams (M)

Innocent lives are endangered when two Espadas try to suppress their feelings for each other. It’s funny, it's sexy, and it's GrimmUlqui. Mwah!

Take a Slice by hollowhiyori (T)

Two vampires kickin’ it in 90s Santa Monica. The vibes are on another level, and I thought Grimmjow and Ulquiorra had such a special and magnetic chemistry in this one.

The Beautiful Game by SunAndMoonFanfictions (M)

One for the footie fans (and any GrimmUlqui fan really). This is a very well-researched and immersive fic with many heartfelt moments. One particular scene of Grimmjow and Ulquiorra out shopping in a later chapter makes me giggle so hard. 

This Time Around by Goldberry (NC-17)

Grimmjow and Ulquiorra learn first hand what it means to be human. This fic is… so precious to me. It will rip you up with the feels then tenderly make you whole again. *cradles to chest*

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If anyone has fics to share, or just wants to scream about GrimmUlqui, PLEASE DO 🥰