#then... paperwork... pure agony. just two left.......

[candyredappledragon]

every hour, every minute, every second .. the day to go back to the academy grows ever closer. and closer.

and plus staying in bed sucks. i need to moooove. but dragonite would absolutely slam dunk me into the bed if i ever take a step outside of my home. so lame....

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 4 - Show me those issues

Dp x DC AU: Regent!Jazz & Vigilante!Jazz

Masterlist Part 3

"Show me those issues, how you've been misused. Yeah girl, I'm with you." -Train Wreck by Divide the Day.

Previously on The Regent: 

It wasn’t as if the Pit Madness could just be gone, right?

Right? (Jason Todd was no fool, the Madness was still there.)

(Just… sedated. Like it didn’t need to boil to the surface anymore where it concerned his murderer.)

And for the first time in a very long while, Jason felt like himself again.

Until the agony began.

In a strange synchronized motion, both Jazz and Danny twisted their bodies towards the spirits who began screeching in the air between the two, ghost speak intertwined with screams of the damned, demanding the Regent and the Prince help the Robin.

“Broken Robin, bloody bird, help, help, help. Agony, pain, corruption” 

Danny didn’t hesitate for a moment to transform into  Phantom, calling over his shoulder for Jazz to bring her last few pure ecto vials along as he phased out of the apartment. 

Jazz sighed heavily as she unlocked the safe in her bedroom, three vials remaining within. All the supply the Regent had left for the month, until Wulf was able to deliver more. 

In any other circumstance, Jazz would have refused to hand over something so vital to her health- escpecially since she was burning through her ecto-levels acting as a vigilante and a Regent, with frequent travels to the Infinite Realms to work on paperwork and attend Council meetings. 

However, Jazz felt the tugging in her chest, the instinct that she had to give up her ectoplasm for the agonized Robin. And she was not one to ignore such strong instincts. 

Vials tucked safely into her bra, Jazz summoned her ecto-sword with only a thought and cut into the air, opening a portal in the between to take her to where the spirits demanded she go. 

Jazz stepped through after a heavy sigh, bones feeling as if they were filled with cement. 

No rest for the wicked after all. 

Danny had already arrived ahead of her by the time Jazz stepped through her portal, fussing over what seemed to be the local unfriendly neighborhood vigilante, Red Hood, without his signature helmet and sweating green droplets profusely. 

Oh.

So that’s how she’d been sensing him. He’s got ectoplasm in him and (by the rancid scent lingering in the air) corrupted at that. 

“Did he go swimming in the Realms sewer?” Jazz asked, half-seriously as she willed the portal closed behind her and leaned her sword against a wall before pulling out the vials of pure ecto. 

Danny struggled to laugh at her attempt at humor however, chirping and warbling at Red Hood’s prone form. Jazz offered the vials to her little brother, “Will these flush out the corrupted ecto?” 

He didn’t answer her, poking at Hood’s chest plate, a warble of worry-horror filling the air. 

“Danny.”

Jazz reached for her proto-core (tucked behind her heart) and chirped back with concern-worry-resignation.

Which worked to get Danny’s attention and he snapped his focus to her, “Jazz, give him the pure stuff! He’s starving!” 

Oh again. 

In Hood’s current state, could he swallow it on his own? 

No, he couldn't. He'd likely choke on it or spit it back out on reflex. One of them would have to administer it by mouth.

Jazz sighed heavily before she uncapped the first vial and tipped its contents into her mouth. The familiar battery-acid taste was heavy on her tongue as she tried not to reflexively swallow it in her hunger.

(She tried to ignore how her heart raced.)

Jazz leaned over Red Hood's prone body, gently carded one hand into his hair, and set the other onto his throat before she pressed her lips onto his own.

To stay in my shadows you must aid my Knight, Regent.

Of course, My Lady.

I speak of the one born in my streets and unburied in my soil, hidden under Red.

The Red Hood?

The Once Bright Light of Gotham, unavenged. Care for him and he will care for you.

Frostbite had been quite shocked at their sudden arrival to the Far Frozen with Red Hood in tow. Jazz’s sword made quite an entrance after all, and Danny’s choice to drop hood’s sweating and shivering body into the Yeti’s arm was enough to get him into motion. 

“Great One, Regent.” The Tribal Leader greeted them as he turned on his heel with his cargo firm in his grasp. 

“Hey Frosty. Gotta doozy for ya.” Danny quipped with some warmth. Being in Realms again seemed to cheer him up ever since the move to Gotham, even if it wasn’t a common occurrence anymore. 

(Jazz kept him far away from the Observants since taking the crown.)

(Nosey one-eyed bastards.) 

“Hi Frostbite.” Jazz offered her own greeting as they followed behind the Yeti into the tribe proper. 

It had been some time since Jazz had been into the Healing tents, but Danny had always enjoyed Frostbite’s company so he easily maneuvered his way around the equipment and tables towards the sectioned off beds in the back, which were Yeti sized and easily dwarved Hood’s own six foot brick house frame. 

Frostbite hummed as he examined his new patient, having heard Danny explain their treatment thus far of Hood. 

“Great One, you were correct in this regard. Red Hood was dying of Corruption due to ectoplasm.” 

“But?” Jazz proded.

“His proto-core has accepted the pure ecto and has begun to stabilize.” 

Both siblings breathed a sigh of relief. That was good news, especially to hear of a new Liminal that could survive Gotham- means Hood was a survivor in more than one regard. 

“However, there is something more concerning…” The Yeti trailed off, a soft growl left in the wake of his words. 

“Frosty?” 

“Pardon me, Great One. It seems that Red Hood’s proto-core isn’t ice-based, it needs warmth.”

Danny, despite the seriousness of the situation, laughed at Jazz’s resulting blush at Frostbite's words.

(Oh I can keep him warm.) 

Not to mention how she they had gotten the pure Ectoplasm down his throat to begin with

“Regent?” 

Jazz sighed and answered the Yeti, “I can offer him my warmth until he can be returned.” 

Frostbite pondered for a moment, “Ah, yes, the Regent has a Fire-based Proto-core. That should do well.” 

(Danny had laughed himself sick when it had come to light that Jazz was his opposite in core too.) 

(Fire and Ice) 

(Hero and Villain) 

With a passive glare at her now-chuckling little brother, Jazz approached Hood’s bed and carefully climbed in alongside him. 

(She did her best to block out how her body wanted to curl into him, grasp onto him and never let go.) 

Turned onto her side away from him, back pressed to his form, Jazz forced her body to relax and let her natural warmth seep out from her core into the vigilante at her back. 

(Little did Jazz know that she would cuddle him in her sleep.) 

(And that a pesky younger sibling would coo and take a few pictures to save as blackmail.) 

Jason dreamed. 

He dreamed of his mother, the good days when she would read to him softly and wrap him in her arms. 

He dreamed of late night patrols with his dad, tucked under his cape when he wanted to feel safe. 

He dreamed of a red haired woman who kissed him softly, held him gently, and… chased the cold away. 

Why had he been so cold? 

Why was his heart aching? 

It wasn’t supposed to ache. 

He wanted his dad. 

He wanted his books. 

He wanted his dream woman to kiss him again and tell him her name, just so he’d have something to hold onto when he woke up. 

(If he woke up.)

A/N:

Alright, part four! With a glimpse into Jason and Jazz's natural bond as, well, maybe... soulmates? Who knows. I'm a sucker for that trope.

If you want a spoiler for what's happening to Jason, check out the original prompt!

And make sure to subscribe to the master list when it's created.

[opluffys]

Mentor + Mentee-

-second part-

somethin quick, this was posted to my archive first as usual. pls let me know if there are any errors or if it copied weird. enjoy!!! :)

tags- thigh riding, vaginal sex, creampie, rough sex, toxic relationship, fem reader.

3.5k words.

-Ghost x Reader-

-nsfw/smut-

Hanging up and tossing the heavy wired phone onto your desk, you groaned in pure exasperation. The paperwork on your desk seemed endless, the monotonous and drab of black ink on bright white paper burning your irises, enforcing a migraine on you.

You've just gotten off the phone with, whoever the fuck, discussing the possibility of getting an assistant to help you with the excess of paperwork you've been filling out as of late. You were a doctor, your main job consisted of ensuring your patients didn't bleed out under your steady and careful hand. It was already hard enough, and now you had the added stress of the sneering stack of papers mocking you.

You clicked the ballpoint pen, bouncing your leg as the tip of the pen hit the paper, dark ink pooling and bleeding through the thin material. Your grip tightened just then, the bouncing of your leg increasing tenfold as your thoughts ran wild.

And as you continued to think, you remembered a crucial detail.

The Task Force, fuck, they're coming back today. From some mission, and you're sure Gaz told you all about it while you gave him a routine checkup, but for the life of you, you couldn't remember the main gist of it.

You didn't want to face them, face him.

•

Biting back a wail of pain as you removed the intravenous line from Soap's arm, you heard Gaz howl in laughter from the spare cot he rested on. Which had garnered him an angered stare by Soap.

"You're such a baby," Gaz laughed, turning on his side to stare right at both you and Soap.

"Fuck off." Soap gritted, hissing in agony as you continued to stitch up his lesion.

"You gonna make me?" He teased, his stare not faltering on Soap's. He glared at him, about to retaliate with his own quip before you proceeded to wipe his wound clean, the sterile stench of the antiseptic flooding your nostrils. He let out a muted scream, his good arm covering the top half of his face.

"Keep still, Johnny." You huffed, adjusting the surgical mask pulled over your features. Gaz seemed to be having a field-day at watching the scene unfold, a smug smile on his lips.

"Gaz, I can stop the morphine drip, you know." You hummed, a hidden smile of your own forming. He looked at you, a glint of fear striking his honey eyes. You held back the urge to laugh, you enjoyed teasing both of these boys in your office, and you knew the three of you were aware that you'd never do anything to bring them more pain.

"Sorry ma'am."

Now it was Soap's turn to laugh, and you discarded your surgical gloves while hearing the two hurl crude insults at one another. They provided decent white noise, and you'd take that over the deafening silence of your rampant thoughts whilst your pen danced elegantly over the various documents.

The two eventually quieted down, a tranquil silence over them as you watched the pain medication take effect on their bodies. Not even five minutes passed before you heard them snore loudly, all cuddled up into the scratchy hospital blankets.

It'd been a couple of days since the entirety of the Task Force had returned. You've only been treating Gaz and Soap, your full attention on them. Usually, you would treat them all, but you honestly didn't want to face Ghost one on one. So, to take some heat off of you, you asked another medic to tend to both Price and Ghost. Just so he didn't feel like you'd singled him out.

But, your attempts would be in vain.

•

Stretching and hearing your joints and ligaments pop in relief, you slumped over the desk, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as you filed the last group of papers. Both Gaz and Soap had left your office today, thanking you for taking care of them (after raiding your lollipop drawer).

So, you sat alone, the small swooshes of air against your body feeling welcomed, the ceiling fan above creaking with every spin. All you'd have to do now was stamp the final line of the packet, ensuring you've read over the contents carefully, and then you were free. Free to run into the uncomfortable and ill-fitting confines of your bunk.

You were lost in the work, so much so you hadn't even noticed the hulking figure taking up most of the space within your office.

"You're avoidin' me."

You nearly shrieked in terror, almost developing a fatal case of tachycardia as you held your hand over your rapidly beating heart.

"What?" Part of you wasn't really surprised that Ghost had managed to sneak up on you, it was his job, after all.

"You're avoidin' me," He repeated, stepping closer to you in large and fluid strides.

"No, I'm not avoiding you. Don't be ridiculous." Yes, I am.

"Actin' all innocent on me," He was right across from you now, his large hands resting on the cheap and fake wood of your desk, hearing it creak under his weight, "we both know that's not the truth."

"It is." It isn't.

"Get up." He commanded, and you knew that tone, that authoritarian inside of him being twisted and used against you in a way that it shouldn't.

"I'm busy." Liar.

"I won't ask again."

You shuddered lightly, telling yourself that it was just because of the excessive air from the ceiling fan skating across your heated skin. But you knew such a thing was a falsified truth.

"What? What is so important that-"

"Come over here." He hushed you before you could even finish your sentence, seating himself on a sterilised and neatly prepped cot. It was all too familiar, to the point where that same damned familiar throbbing and heat was felt in between your legs.

Your legs shook, hesitating to even take a single step towards Ghost, your mind and body both telling you different things. It was tearing you apart in the most agonising and tortuous way.

Still, you'd made you way towards him, standing idly as you struggled to maintain eye contact with him. A scowl formed on your lips, eyes flickering to his chilled demeanour. You hated how he was always so calm- so tranquil and at ease, like he wasn't feeling the same things you were, maybe because he's not, at least not for you.

"Sit." He spread his massive legs, indicating exactly where he'd wanted you. You listened wordlessly, taking a seat on his muscled thighs, your hands fisting into your scrubs.

"Make it quick," You huffed, now attempting to remove your uniform, "I have a lot to do." You sighed, fingers hooking at your waistband and pulling down, or at least you'd attempted to do so, being stopped by a harsh hand encapsulating both of your wrists.

He held your hip with his lone hand, beginning to slide you over the thick muscle of his thigh, hearing you gasp in shock. His eyes pierced your own, roughly continuing to move you atop him, the material of both your scrubs and panties against your clit overwhelming.

The both of you continued to stare at one another, your breath quickening as you felt that cursed familiarity of your orgasm creeping up on you with silent strides. Your hands were still stuck in Ghost's firm grasp, wanting nothing more than to grab at him, to pull his mask forward and kiss him like you'd perish without it. Without him.

Just thinking of such a scenario had you reeling, your hips jerking as you felt your clit being rubbed just by his thigh alone. The feeling of his as well as your uniform dragging against that sensitive nub making your mind go hazy.

As you felt your release become imminent, he stopped his movements, unshackling your hands from his grip. He hastily tore your uniform, something of which he'd only done when he was particularly angered. With you or his mission, you had no clue.

His cruel stare on you was discomforting, he looked at you like you were a piece of meat- something subhuman. Just a body to warm his cock, and how fitting your thoughts were- because he quickly slipped his own bottoms down, revealing his erect cock for a split second before burying himself inside of you.

Always so rushed, hurried and lacking any control. A crude opposition to him on the field.

You suppressed a high pitched moan, hands itching to touch him, to ground yourself against him and ride him until your thighs would burn akin to hellfire. He let out a deep grunt, his hand slapping the excess flesh at your ass, bouncing you atop him like you had been weightless.

As much as you didn't want to admit it, you were familiar with the fact that you were just Ghost's stress reliever. How he'd prowl into your office during the late hours to bend you over any surface and fuck you until muted screams left your lips.

For a while, you didn't mind it at all.

In actuality, you'd enjoyed such a thing. You felt an odd sense of honour swell in your chest, at the sole fact that he'd chosen you. He chose your body to hold onto, to whisper vile and cruel things in your ear, to grab at your body like that was all you were- a body. Void of a soul, a conscious, anything.

Being his personal fuck-doll had its ups and downs, where he'd make you orgasm more times than you could count, fucking you until you cried. But the polar opposite, of when he'd leave dark purples on your thighs, your hips, neck, fucking everywhere.

Like he was doing now.

You felt his hands roam around your softer body, catching at the fat of your hips, anchoring himself to you and bouncing you atop his thick and girthy cock with fervour. It was as if he didn't know the extent of his raw strength, already biting dark hues of purple into your soft and delicate skin.

Your eyes fluttered shut as your body struggled not to slump forward, flush against his strong chest. You didn't touch him, you swore you wouldn't. He didn't deserve it. A pathetic little thing you told yourself, just so you didn't get attached, because there was nothing more you'd yearned for to hold him like a lover did. To wrap your arms around him and feeling him lovingly piston into you, to kiss your cheek tenderly while your wet insides squeezed him with a vengeful grasp.

It's all too late, anyway.

He stopped, grabbing your chin and watching as your eyes popped open in disillusion.

"Eyes on me," Low, accented tone gravelly as he commanded you.

How dare he, your eyes met his instantaneously. Watching intently as his platinum lashes rested on his zygoma for a millisecond before opening back up to look at you. To look into you, to pick you apart, seemingly, until you turned to nothing. An obedient creature glued to his side, aching knees and jaw being ignored as you served him, like the good little thing you were.

His strained sounds were heard, quiet groans and animalistic sounding grunts as he thrusted upwards, bashing into your womb again and again. It hurt so good and you fucking hated it. You hated how just sole eye contact alone would have you naked and pressed against his clothed chest, fat cock stretching your insides.

Fuck, you loved it.

You absolutely adored it, being stuffed full of him, his mushroom tip pressing flush against your womb. Loved the bruises, the blemishes he's caused. His markings, claiming you as his, his plaything. Like an infants grubby hands over a shiny new toy, slobbering all over it and showing everyone that it was theirs.

No, you'd repeat, whilst being lifted off of him, your hands linked with each other behind your back, before being brought back down to him. Heavy cock twitching inside your tight walls, slick coating his dick, veiny and big, always reaching new spots inside of you. Spots that had searing stars incandescently tug at your vision.

Conflicting emotions, a curse, something that'd have you lay awake at night. Lay in your own cot, or sat next to an ill patient. Thinking about him, wondering, perhaps he was thinking of you, too.

How laughable.

Your eyes wandered, the interminable connection of your irises to his inadmissible. His eyes were always so eloquent, nearly showing what he'd been thinking. You couldn't stand it. You enjoyed the mask, enjoyed not seeing his face, because then, it'd be that much more personal. He wouldn't be Ghost to you anymore, he'd be someone, someone more than just a bed warmer.

Would you, though?

He squeezed your hips, garnering your attention to him once more. His brows furrowed, a thin sheet of sweat encompassing the two of you. He continued to fuck into your slick heat, revelling in how you always took him so well, as he said. Drunk off of you alone, and it was one of those nights.

"Fuckin' made for me,"

Just a slip of the tongue.

But no, you took that and ran with it, lungs burning while your legs continued to sprint. Oh, how you wished that was the case. You were tethered to him for a single purpose, for him to empty himself into you, to lay you across the hospital cot and fuck you from the back, always feeling him so deep. A place where no other man could dare to traverse, could never reach, anyway.

Was it on purpose?

Moulding you to his shape, getting you accustomed (it was always impossible anyways, taking him) to his cock. To spite you when you settled down, found a man who would love you, who would care for you. He wouldn't be enough, because Ghost already left his mark.

You were knocked out of your thoughts, thankfully, when you felt his gloved fingers begin to rub tight circles into your clit. His eyes now studied where the two of you had been joined, watching as your greedy pussy would always desperately pull his girth back in for more, a pathetic beg, don't leave.

You suddenly wailed, your hands grabbing his broad shoulders for purchase as your body shook. Toes curling, back arching as your eyes etched shut, sparkly tears trailing down your heated cheeks. You came hard against him, your essence coating his cock as he fucked you relentlessly, low and deep growls rumbling through his chest. He cursed, feeling your velvety insides continuing to take him deeper inside, he's already giving it all to you but fuck, you want more, you want it all.

"Such a greedy little thing."

He always knew what you were thinking.

"Love when I fuck you like this, don't you?"

Yes, no, yes, no-

"When I fill you up, fuckin' love it, don't you," He groaned, throwing his head back as he buried himself deep within you, nearly invading the inside of your womb as his warm and thick seed filled you. Marking you so that no other man could ever- would ever, do something striking even to him. Such a cruelty, acting like you'd belonged to him. You didn't know what he'd looked like, only aware of his name from medical records.

"Always so good for me."

And you hated how that had been the unvarnished truth.

•

You stared at your hands, ungloved and bare. Soft, skilled, shaking.

Why?

You'd touched him, in a way you swore you wouldn't ever. You'd expected to be thrown off, to be looked at as scum, worse than such a thing.

It was an accident, you didn't mean to. You weren't thinking straight, it was unfeasible with him splitting you open atop his lap. You just needed to ground yourself against him, for fear of falling, pathetic excuses.

A rueful thing you'd been over the next days, your usual adept hands quivering and trembling as you'd treated some of your patients.

You heard the click of a door open, and your posture snapped up, glossy eyes searching for who entered your space.

A breath of relief as it had just been Price.

You snapped a fresh pair of gloves on, bright blue going well with your dark scrubs. You led him to a cleaned cot, asking him just what the problem had been.

"Nothin' much, love." You loathed yourself for how your heart desired him to call you more pet names. To fill in Ghost's shadow and take care of you, as the natural leader he was. You were sure he'd be excellent at doing so.

"Missed your stitches, though." He huffed, relaxing into the bed as you ran an intravenous line for him just in case.

You looked at him, a quizzical glint in your eye. "My medic didn't take good care of you two?" Just you-

"Oh, no, didn't mean it like that." He looked penitent, kind eyes trailing over you before returning back to your stare. "Just meant that you know me better, sweetheart."

It was the truth, you were the Task Force's doctor, after all. It was just an innocent compliment of how good of a physician you'd been. Yet, you felt dizzy, the room a pirouette as you forced yourself to become calm.

"I'll keep that in mind next time, Price." You smiled, motioning for him to lift his shirt to check his lesions and other deep gashes that required attention. Your medic had done a good job, stitching and sterilising his wounds. But, the stitches were beginning to loosen, and you didn't need the wound becoming infected.

Your touches on him were always solicitous on him, more so than the others. Your gloved fingertips gentle on his muscled body, your stare wrongfully looking at his abs, lower and lower to that mesmerising trail of h-

"Gaz and Soap again?" He questioned, his gruff voice shaking you.

You looked at him confused, before he nodded towards the empty jar of sweets. You hadn't even noticed, they must've done so when you were out of the room, those stealthy bastards.

"Had to be," You laughed, making a mental note to restock the jar, "sorry you didn't get one."

"S'alright love." He hummed, his striking blues closing as you redid the stitches over his abdomen, watching as his stomach twitched in response to your careful and airy touch.

You finished quickly, removing your gloves and tossing them in a spare bin. You questioned if he'd wanted the extra fluids and medication, but he'd declined, thanking you for patching him up.

You motioned to clean your station, grabbing the bag of saline fluid before it had popped open, spilling all over your top. You cursed in vexation, more angry at the lost supplies rather than your soiled uniform.

Price quickly was at your side, spare cloth in hand as he attempted to clean the saline from your scrubs. "It's fine," You said, not used to being so close to him. His scent was intoxicating, that hint of smoke already having you feel utterly addicted to his presence alone.

He brushed you off, offering his services as he continued to dry you off. The cloth caught on the neck of the scrubs, pulling the material just below your clavicle, just where that array of purple lay, unperturbed on your skin. He let out a rushed apology, fixing you to look decent, his demeanour so focused on you.

Normally, it was the other way around.

But it felt nice being the one taken care of, for once.

•

Tossing your uniform into the laundry, you felt nice in a new set of clothes. No longer being confined to scrubs, but instead a comfortable cotton outfit against you. You eyed yourself in the mirror, clicking your tongue in distaste. Dark rings of purple running around the underside of your eyes, looking as if you haven't slept in years. Hell, it felt that way, too.

You'd had a long day, full of monotonous paperwork, sobbing soldiers who had flooded your office, crying for their mothers, and the thoughts of both Ghost and Price so tiring. You were giddy to finally be able to curl up into your bunk, drifting off into a dreamless sleep before your day would repeat at dawn.

And that was exactly what you had planned to do, to forget the days contents and reset and rest for the next.

But there Ghost was, at your door and telling you something, his words lost on you as you stared at him, balaclava pulled securely in place. Your eyes were fixed on his shoulders, right where you'd touched.

He beckoned you on to follow after him, and you wanted to plant your feet to the floor. To tell him no, to tell him that you had better things to do than to get fucked by him tonight.

Of course, you didn't do any of that.

Instead, you followed his lead, not asking a single question the entire way.

[lemons3ason]

HOW THE VINSMOKE BROTHERS REACT TO LOSING THEIR S/O BECAUSE OF THEIR FATHER!

Warning: Mad Angst, Lowkey long I got kinda a little to into these scenarios, mentions of death and torture, I cried and lowkey need to make a part two for fluff TT-TT

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

Ichiji Vinsmoke

You were missing from bed this morning, of course Ichiji was curious of it since you were practically 8 months pregnant but he thought you were just back in the kitchen cooking with Cosette again. You were a chef for the Germa Kingdom, the only reason he had met you was because Niji had thrown a plate of food at Cosette and you shielded her from it before striking Niji in a nerve and knocking him unconscious for over 36 hours. Since that day Ichiji had claimed you as his, his cute firecracker, and yet for some reason you were never enough for his father. You made his son human, which in turn made him weak, sooner or later you would’ve had to be dealt with. Judge had summoned him to the throne room to speak with him alone, with his shadow casting over the young red haired man he spoke with a cold heartless tone, “(Y/n) has been executed. She was taken down to the dungeons before daybreak, so you won’t find her.”, he turned to his son to make sure he emphasized his point, “She wasn’t good enough for you anyways.”

Ichiji felt his heart shatter, something he once never had, and felt his lips quiver at the news. Nothing held him back, so why?! Why didn’t he just kill his father where he stood! Judge had sent you to the dungeons to be executed, all because he deemed you unworthy of the Vinsmoke name. Ichiji’s fist ignited into flames as his rage boiled in his blood. He was always cold and collected but right at this moment he was afraid! Afraid and enraged, Ichiji left his father alone and stormed down to the dungeons. Memories of his days tormenting Sanji replayed in his mind causing his stomach to churn. The dungeons were for the weak, only the strong could laugh from the other side of the bars and unfortunately you were just a weak powerless human compared to the monsters that lived right by your side.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n) answer me! Answer me right now!”, Ichiji’s voice roared through the cold dark cells of the dungeon.

Soldiers in charge of the chambers emerged attempting to calm their leader but their skulls simply met the hard brick walls as he punched them. Flames flickered from his fists and feet with each of his movements, even without his raid suit Ichiji was a force to be reckoned with.

“(Y/n)!”, his screams were desperate at this point, his emotional heart couldn’t handle the stress of the situation anymore.

Then he saw it, in pure disbelief he threw his glasses to the side taking in the pale lifeless battered body that laid before his eyes. Everything stopped, y-you were gone. He was to late. Ichiji didn’t want to believe it not now, not ever, he raced to your side scooping your cold form into his arm and holding you tight almost mistaking his own body heat as yours in broken hope that you were still alive. He was heartbroken, as he stared down at your beautiful sleeping face his vision became blurry. He had lost it, he lost you, tears and screams of agony poured out of Ichiji’s body. He couldn’t handle this, not (Y/n), not you of all people. His wails became louder so much so that his siblings could hear him, even Judge who stared out over the sea with no regret to his decision could hear the heartbroken wails of his precious son. Ichiji’s raw emotions triggered his powers, his tears evaporated from the intense heat his body produced and like an inferno eating at a dry field his flames engulfed the dungeons setting fire to half of the Germa Kingdom. Even as your body seared to ash in his arms he held onto you desperately his wails becoming noiseless gasps until his brothers pulled him out of the flames and away from your ashes.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)! (Y/n)!!!!!”, He screamed fighting against his brothers strength as soldiers rushed in to put out the flames.

Even if he showed weakness because of his heart Ichiji mourned your death, he couldn’t handle it anymore because every little thing reminded him of you. For a whole week he had locked himself in your old quarters and he wouldn’t budge...not until Reiju appeared with the only thing that would pull him out of mourning. She kicked the door open holding something small in her arms and sighed seeing her brother collapsed by your bedside.

“She’s gone Ichiji, get over it.”, Reiju growled.

“How do you expect me to do that? Tell me Reiju! Every woman I’ve ever seen was merely a toy of amusement for me until I met her! She reminded me what it meant to be human, how do you expect me to get over her!”, the red haired male growled grabbing his sister by the fabric collar until a soft cry caught his attention.

The sudden rough movement had awaken the slumbering (h/c) haired baby that rested in Reiju’s arms. Ichiji’s body trembled from shock and he once again collapsed to his knees. Reiju smiled and kneeled down in front of her younger brother carefully placing his child in his arms, “(Y/n) fought till the very end, I noticed them take her down to the dungeon and the stress from them beating her drove her body into labor. Father’s word was absolute to kill her but nothing was said about the baby. All she asked was that I took her.”, Reiju sighed tears of regret falling from her blue eyes.

This little baby girl, with Ichiji’s curly little eyebrows, and your sweet eyes, was all he had left of you and he wouldn’t let his father take her from him like he took you!

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

Niji Vinsmoke

That night you hadn’t returned to bed, after a heated argument about his cruel behavior towards the staff of the ship you had left Niji alone in his quarters. The young prince waited impatiently for you to return but after midnight struck the clock he decided that it would be best to go find you instead. It wasn’t your first fight but truly he let himself go, he said things that he regretted and sucking it up and apologizing to you only seemed fair. He called your name loudly, not caring about the others and their sleep since he needed to find you quickly.

“(Y/n)? Hey little brat come on, it’s late we can continue this argument tomorrow just come to bed.”, he sighed running his fingers through his blue hair in frustration.

He noticed several guards talking amongst themselves and decided to question them on your whereabouts. All the soldiers froze up once they felt the intense anger radiating off of their general, they quickly stood at attention greeting Niji as he glared down at all of them. He noticed your necklace hanging out of one of their pockets and quickly snatched it back as he began to interrogate the soldier.

“Where the hell did you get this? A piece of gravel like you shouldn’t have been able to get this close to (Y/n) in order to take it. Where did you get this?”, Niji growled electricity discharged from his body with each passing second.

The soldier stumbled over his words trembling in fear as he looked death in the face, “I-I’m sorry sir! I-I found it in the dungeons it’s from the most recent kill. I-I didn’t know this b-belonged to Ms. (L/n)!”, the soldier squeaked in fear as Niji’s electricity made all the lights in the hall pop, his body glowed a dim blue in the dark corridor as he stormed down to the dungeons. Something didn’t feel right, for once an unsettling itch was making Niji nervous. Why would you be in the dungeons of all places? His steps echoed the farther down he went, but the eerie silence of the dungeons made his stomach ache. Something wasn’t right.

“(Y/n)? Hey brat, where are you? Come on this is enough, it’s not funny, (Y/n)!”, Niji yelled, his voice broke as he called your name, “(Y/n), come on I’m sorry! I don’t hate you, I love you so come back.”

For the first time ever fear was coursing through his blood and he didn’t know what to do. Every call of your name drove him crazy, you didn’t respond no matter how loud he got. He searched every sell desperately for you but he couldn’t find a thing, he was clueless on your whereabouts until one of the many prisoners in the dungeons spoke up.

“Niji?”, the old man called quickly grabbing the young prince’s attention.

“Who the hell do you think your calli-“

“That’s the name the young lady was calling when they were beating her. Niji, at the top of her lungs, it was painful to have to hear her.”, the old man sighed tears falling from his eyes.

Niji’s arms reached for his tattered clothes slamming him against the bars as he demanded answers, “What girl? Where did they take her?”

“T-this young lady with short (h/c) hair. They took her to the torture chamber just down the hall!”

“Her hair wasn’t short! Liar!”, Niji growled.

“I-It was! Lord Judge cut her hair with his spear to show her how little she meant to the family. Then ordered her execution, I haven’t heard her voice for the last three hours.”, the man admitted crying in fear of being punished.

Niji released the man and ran as quickly as he could to the chambers, but the pool of blood was enough for him to understand your fate. He stared down at the pool in defeat and fell to his knees as his vision became blurry. Bloodied whips and clubs littered the floor but Niji couldn’t see a thing, he screamed in anguish to the situation. His heart couldn’t take this, his head was splitting to the very thought of your death. His sadness quickly turned into rage, it’s was his fault, his father was the cause of all of this! Using his powers he appeared in his father’s room in a mere matter of seconds, his electricity burning hotter then ever before.

“WHERE IS MY (Y/N)?!”, Niji roared ripping his goggles off so he could see his father properly.

Judge, completely unamused by his favorite son’s outburst, simply scoffed and returned to his paperwork. Having been ignore Niji slammed his fist into Judge’s desk scattering and burning the papers throughout the room. He glared up at his father and repeated his question, “Where is my (Y/n)?”

“Tossed out to sea, it’s not like she was alive anymore. By now she’s being digested by some stray seaking that found her battered corpse.”, Judge sighed in frustration, “It’s not like I would’ve considered someone like her eligible to be your wife. A prince shouldn’t bother with a mere nameless slave.”

Niji was heartbroken, tears that had been ready to fall from his eyes from the past 20 years had finally started to fall. He couldn’t see, not even an inch in front of him as he grieved your death. He was to late, he fought with you and made you leave and when you needed him most he wasn’t there for you.

“It was pathetic how desperately she called your name, she was to reliant on you, it made the torture so much easier when she finally gave up. Hopefully the next woman you fall in love with is more suitable to be a Vinsmoke.”, Judge sighed lifting his son by his collar and throwing him out of his room.

Niji was forced to stumble back to his room, no matter how much he called you you never returned to his side. You were gone, all because he was to late.

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

Sanji Vinsmoke

“What happened to her? (Y/n)!”, Sanji yelled caressing your face as you slept.

Your body was covered in bruises and cuts from your recent fight with Niji, you had snuck onto the Germa ships to find Sanji and drag him back but unfortunately you had ran into one of his monster brothers. Reiju had stopped her beastly brother from killing you but you presence on the ship didn’t go unnoticed, Judge was now aware of you and he wasn’t happy. Reiju allowed you to stay in her room with Sanji but Judge had other plans for you.

“(Y/n) you idiot. You should’ve stayed with the others back on the Sunny.”, Sanji sighed holding your hand in his, you woke up seeing him softly kiss your knuckles.

“Takes an idiot to know one. Come back stupid, I miss you.”, you sighed turning to him.

Sanji frowned at you but he couldn’t help but smile seeing you awake. You were such a handful, always had been and always would be but that’s what he loved about you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead making you smile but once again you both forgot that you were prisoners to the family. Sanji carried you back to his room and kept you there by his side, you both softly whispered to each other declaring your love like children. Having you in his arms again made Sanji forget about his worries, all he needed was you and that’s all he wanted. Eventually sleep claimed you both but you both slept comfortably together sharing dreams that a promising future would hold. The next day Sanji was forced to meet Big Mom. He hoped that you’d be left alone in his quarters but hope was for fools, while he was gone one of the soldier’s had slipped a sleeping drug into your food and dragged you down to the dungeons.

“(Y/n), I’m back. Have you eaten I’ll make yo-(Y/n)? (Y/n)?!”, Sanji’s blood ran cold seeing you missing, you couldn’t move around with your injuries which meant someone had taken you. He raced through the halls of the ship searching for you desperately, not one soldier told him where you were but a feeling in his chest told him exactly where you were. His legs carried him to the dungeon chambers but he found himself unable to even open the door. Memories of the caged abuse he went through drove a cold sweat through his body, but he had to save you. He swallowed his fears and opened the door but his fears were realized when he heard your voice scream his name. He hurried, he rushed, as quickly as he could but he was seconds to late. With his father looming over your battered body Sanji was forced to watch the spear pierce through your back,

“S-sanji.”, you cried as the injury killed you instantly, your outstretched hand fell to the ground as you passed away.

“Why failures stick together I will never know, but at least there’s one less of you vermin.”, Judge growled pulling his spear from your corpse as he turned around to see his mortified son, “It’ll teach you better then to let fools get in the way of my goals.”

He simply scoffed at him and walked back up the stairs while Sanji fell to his knees just inches away from your body. “(Y-y/n)...(y/n).”, Sanji croaked holding the hand that you had been reaching for him with.

“(Y/n)!”, he screamed to no one in the cold depressing dungeon as he pulled your body towards his chest to hold you.

He sobbed into your hair, crying until his voice ran dry. Sanji couldn’t accept this, “Not like this, p-please not like this. Not her!”, he begged staring down at your bruised face that still looked like a beautiful Angel in his eyes.

“(Y/n) please don’t leave me. Not like this my dear.”, he whimpered pressing his forehead against yours.

This dungeon had caused him so much pain and now it was the place that had taken you from him. Why did life have to hate him so much? To be married off to a stranger, to be taken from his crew, and worst of all to lose the only woman he had wanted to marry. His family brought him nothing but agony, he cried until exhaustion forced him to sleep. Reiju was ordered to fetch him for dinner but the sight of her younger brother asleep against the wall while holding your dead corpse was enough to move her to tears. He truly did love you but now you were gone.

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

Yonji Vinsmoke

From the start Yonji knew that his father hated your existence, but Yonji just couldn’t help it. He had fallen for you, the way his name rolled of your tongue and past your sweet soft lips made him crave your presence. The way you reached your small hands up to him to hold his face in your hands made his heart face, but your eyes, your beautiful passionate shimmering eyes made him fall head over heels for you. Even when he was disrespectful towards others Yonji would always keep an eye on you smiling when he saw you doing the simplest of tasks. The prince that loved a peasant what a cliche love story. Even if he was a genetically modified human in your eyes he was just him, and you were just the perfect normal little human girl.

“Prince Yonji I made cookies today. Would you lik-oh heehee.”, you giggled watching Yonji eat the cookie from your fingers.

His crumb covered lips pressed against your cheek making you smile, but your soft moment together was spoiled by the all to familiar scoff of Lord Judge. The tall giant glared down at you while you sheepishly smiled up and greeted him, Yonji scowled at his Father’s glare and wrapped his arm around your waist protectively.

“Keep moving old man.”, he growled much to Judge’s disgust.

Cosette called you back to the kitchen, you excused yourself hesitating to give Yonji a kiss in front of his father but the green haired man wouldn’t let you leave without a proper kiss. As soon as he got his kiss he let you go, your face flushed red and smiling as you returned to your duties.

“Why you bother with a failure like her irritates me, you deserve a princess not a dirty servant Yonji.”, Judge growled down to his youngest son.

Yonji scoffed in annoyance to his father and simply walked away leaving his father to his own complaints. Judge decided that if you were the one his son wanted then he’d modify you so that you were actually useful to the family. Every night you would come to find Yonji and kiss him goodnight, it was a ritual that he became dependent on but tonight you didn’t show up. Far past midnight sleep was finally beginning to take over his body but he tried to stay awake hoping that you’d just been busy with chores. He woke up angry the next day because of your absence and went to search for you to give you a piece of his mind but no one had seen you. You always presented yourself to work even if you were exhausted or sick meaning something had happened to you. Yonji growled under his breath knowing that his father had something to do with it. One of the doctors appeared before him asking for his presence in the dungeon chambers, Yonji didn’t want to bother with it but his father was waiting for him. Just entering the room he could hear torturous screams resonating from down below, his father must’ve been furious.

“What do you want old man?”

His father simply pointed into one of the screaming cages and smiled, “Now she’s worthy of you. A soldier ready to give her life for you.”, he chuckled.

That’s when Yonji saw it, his eyes widened in shock seeing your blood stained body killing a prisoner. You held the knife above your head ready to kill them but Yonji’s hand caught your wrist as he called your name. You responded but the look in your eyes was enough to tell him what had happened. Cold, lifeless, dead (e/c) eyes, looked into his there was no spark in them anymore.

“What did you do to her!?”, Yonji growled sending his mechanical arm right to his fathers face.

Judge was unimpressed by his son’s rage and pushed his hand away, “Simply made her worthy of you. An annoying woman like her wasn’t fit to be a love interest for one of my precious sons but with her genetic enhancements now she is. Surprisingly she was able to stay sane for about 7 hours before the electrical charges finally fried what little brain cells she had. The only sacrifice was her mental sanity, her emotions, and her heart. She’s the perfect little puppet now.”

Yonji’s face dropped to the news of your torture, he turned to your frozen form and kiss your lips hoping that you’d react, hoping that it wasn’t true but nothing happened. Your cheeks didn’t heat up, your eyes didn’t sparkle with love, you didn’t call his name sweetly, he lost you.

“REVERSE IT! REVERSE THE EFFECTS RIGHT NOW!”, Yonji ordered holding your head softly in his hands.

“She’d really die this time, if we bothered trying. This is how she stays if you want her by your side, once you’re tired of her dispose of her. She’s no longer human she’s just an empty shell.”

Yonji couldn’t believe it, he held you calling your name over and over until you responded but you never did. You never made a noise you were just silent. “N-no...(Y/n)...n-not like this. Please not like this come back to me.”, Yonji pleaded through his tears but from then on it would never be the same.

[strawberry-nugget]

𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙛 𝘼𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚

𝘼/𝙉: This is my piece for my very own collab 'Ice Cold Heart' and also my excuse to delve into some more canon rather than fanon Hawks, because canon Hawks has been clouding my mind lately and I needed to get this out

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Hawks/fem!Reader

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Angst, mentions of sexual themes

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2k

"I'm in love with you"

The precious meaning of a phrase is only defined by the weight you decide to put on it. And today you have decided that with your words you'd give birth to what's only going to give you and him pure, undefined pain. An elephant in the room if you may, an ogre of emotions that otherwise would be unwanted to stand between the two of you.

You think 'otherwise' as if it's not unwanted already. The unrequited nature of your sentence will linger in your heart more than you'd like to admit, but you're ready to lift your eyes and meet his golden ones, ready to be judged with the coldness of his gaze, ready to be treated like you've expected you will when coming into his office.

You still have that hidden truth to spill to him, and it surpasses the one you spilt already, but you hold your dry tongue in your mouth for now.

What could possibly only hurt like a kitten's scratch -his mute, his echoing silence- is rather twisting numerous sharp daggers in your chest, twirling over the wound of your feelings, ravaging any hope for salvation you had been left with. You wonder how your friends ever managed to convince you that the hardest thing about confessing was the part where you had to build up your courage.

Your courage never suffered from a hit as you walked to his office, despite being terrified for what you had to say to him. Paperwork in your hands and none of a nervous trembling in your lips, iron clad feet clashing with the tiles of the building. You've made your decision to get rid of all those feelings, not wanting to spend another night bent on his desk or sprawled under him, only for him to act like he barely knows you in the office and then to be all greedy and sweet in public events.

His games, that god awful behavior of his, the way he chooses to use you -even if you feel like you use him to, to turn him into something that he's not with your imagination- you're tired of everything. And then there's also the fact that he's a traito-

"Aha"

The answer to your confession wasn't supposed to affect you either for better or for worse, rather this confession was an egotistical act, Mirko, or any of your friends previously said, that one had to endure in order to take the next big step. Whether that was a step accompanied by your desired person, or a step to redeeming the anathema a rejection could have caused.

Frankly it wasn't that the golden orbs staring back at you were rejecting. If anything, they didn't bore into yours in a way that left you hollow, but they didn't fill your heart with dreams either. And what your original intentions begged to stand up for was that you didn't care of any significant reciprocation.

You wish you didn't care where those words you had uttered had left Hawks, or in what inner conflict they had found him in. But you know, he won't be in any conflict about what you have to say, what you've kept inside for too long, what has bled onto your morals like a run over animal on the street, left to rot and seep into the road as it disintegrates under the sun or the cold.

Unbeknownst to you, deep down in his head, Hawks doesn't know how to feel, or how to react; its all too sudden for him to process. The way you spoke of it so casually yet, so lightheartedly, your tone suggesting that you let your most vulnerable object of thought slip through your fingertips, like you let it fall out of your head and shutter on the ground.

"I-"

It isn't much, just the start of a sentence that he hopes he could compose, but the way your brows furrow at the sound of his voice does nothing other than startle him.

You should have known, he's not going to give in to such demands. Love, relationships, he doesn't have time, space, a mindset, doesn't need you to be that one for him, he wants all the stability he can get when he wants it, however he wants it and he's gone when he gets it, swift as a bird, cold as stone. That doesn't necessarily tickle a nerve inside of him, you know the rules, even if he feels bad about you suffering like this there's nothing he can do -he doesn't even know how- and he chooses to let you speak, get it out, before he has to go and be a hero for the day.

"No, no save it," You wave him off "here's my resignation"

The authority in your voice isn't the one he was used to. As his eyes blink, honey colored orbs taking in the un-glory of your posture, he's met with the sight of your hands hugging around your own form; the ultimate sign of vulnerability, uncertainty.

"You don't have to quit because you fell in love with me"

'You fell in love with me' he speaks of the words so little, as if they're dirty, as if you're in this with yourself and they're so suffocating that he can't stand them, only to softly graze your ear with vore intentions, to tell you that you don't have to quit, to urge you to not take this too serious.

Your feelings aren't serious.

"I do" You speak, trying to jab him back with some crafted poison in your tone. But you know what you're going to say next will definitely do it for him, it'll poison him we'll, whether it makes you endangered or not. "I was on patrol when I saw you doing business with Dabi, so save it."

The weight of those words is what finally serves as a huge hit to your courage. You've outed yourself greatly and now the chewing on your bottom lip is profound and painful to a great amount. Hawks' face is contorted in a terrifying darkness, thick brows clenched above his eyes and lips pushed into a thin line, nose scrunched.

"Listen-"

"I just don't want to be a part of this"

That's when he knows he has to be forgiving.

Hawks isn't used to you, a fierce warrior of a hero, clenching your jaw tensely or furrowing your brows in sorrows. He isn't used to you being so upfront with your emotions either; whatever the two of you have shared in the past has been in words of reluctance and mind states of regret, each one desperate to prevent your hearts from getting hurt.

He knows his heart won't get hurt though, it's shielded way too well inside his chest, in such way he feels hollow, driven by anything other than the stupid organ. You should have known, he tells himself, before you got involved so deeply, but he left you with no time for thoughts like these, wiggling you under his wing while biting your skin instead of pecking it.

Just as Hawks has always known that he's going to hurt you no matter you rejecting labels or bottling feelings up and absolutely forbidding the mention of them, it's obvious that things can't go his way. He isn't used to you eyeing him with pain gathering in the corners of your eyes, but he's willing to play the part you're setting up for him right on the spot. Even if he has to admit, the thought of being painted in this color jabs him just like knowing things won't go back to the way they were between the two of you.

He doesn't mind. He had to let it go because by the time you know about the truth you won't even remember his face, or the way his voice sounds, and he shouldn't think about this but he does, in a way, in the very back of his head.

His mission, he thinks, is far more important than his personal life -it's a top priority for greater good.

Once greater good is achieved he's going to be able to invest in a personal life that involves feelings and excitement and even the noble pleasure of being able to choose between priorities. Right?

So, whatever he's feeling now -the tight knot in his throat, the painful lack of oxygen in his throat, his gut twisting and churning and his limbs alternating from spasming to going numb- he has to ignore.

But for the worse part he doesn't really know how to act. The confession that has startled him is still lingering on repeat in the back of his head, fueling the small ignition of a flame that begs to put you on a pedestal, or rather, it began to make his mouth move on it own, to tell how that he too wishes he could be with you as more than this secretly exclusive arrangement you've set.

Maybe, his heart pleads, maybe he can tell you about his mission and clear up the confusion.

He wonders if that would be a part you'd want him to play for you.

"I won't give you away. So long as you don't involve me in this, I don't have ulterior motives for protecting civilians."

"I-" He starts, darkness bottling up in his gut, stomach falling after going utterly numb. Somehow he knows he's not going to utter a word if he keeps acting like that.

"Hawks-"

"You'll get over it."

It's sharp and it's short and it sends heavy, lethal daggers to your chest, so much that you can feel your heart beginning to slip from in between your ribs, out of chest and onto the floor of his office. It'd be a mess to clean, the blood if your agony and your heartache rightfully on his floor. For him to look down on, this time, physically.

"I will"

He knows his words hurt, just by the mere look your face contorts and he won't utter a word about what you just said, he'll link you to Endeavor and when the time comes you'll know. His cause is greater than your heart breaking, greater than chasing after that small arrangement he's made so he can get physical release from time to time.

It's better not to react. Not to terrorize you into anything for if you're afraid you might out the wrong truth to the heroes in your circle and his plan -the commission's plan- will fail and the heroes will lose this war. And he can't lose.

You want to look at him with menace and disgrace, not to atone him for the way he's making you feel; crashing your dreams, poisoning your morals and your thoughts, living down to your expectations so much that you don't know what to think of him.

Like he did when you saw him after closed doors, cold and unapproachable, to the point he's scary. Manipulative so much that you found your way under him without even realizing how fast it happened, what impact it had to you to get involved with him. You just want to be out, unwielded from his spider's web and latch yourself into something real and kind, to serve your purpose as a hero. As a human.

When he opens his mouth again you're not scared anymore, of what he may do to you, of what will happen next.

"Hand me your papers so I can sign them"

Thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[imaginativeamateur]

[Gaara X Reader] You Feel Like Home {Part 4}

Prologue   Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Epilogue

Pairing: Gaara x gn!Reader

~~/ / "Don’t move, please stay like this for a while. I like to hold you in my arms, you're warm," he tightened his embrace and whispered, voice muffled in your hair, "like home." / /~~

You wrapped your arms around his back and pressed the side of your cheek into his chest, "I don't want you to get hurt, I really don't."

"I won't let them hurt me, I’m Gaara," he rested his chin on your head, "I will protect the village, and you. I promise."

You knew that Gaara would not back down from the start, the fire in his eyes was what you truly admire, you were right after all.

The next day, Temari got back after dusk and crashed into Gaara's office, "I tracked them down to their hideout. They are in Suna, the Akatsuki. I only saw two of them leaving and coming to the place, though."

"Great," you murmured, eyeing the red-haired.

"We're waiting for Konoha's Shinobi to arrive before we start our plan. The main objective is to rescue them first, we need to avoid direct fights with the members in order to ensure the captives' safety." Gaara briefed as he stood up from the chair.

"Got it. I'm going to go back, I seriously need some sleep. See you tomorrow!" Temari nodded and left her report on the table before she turned to the door.

"Thank you, Temari, really." You whispered to the blonde as she passed you on her way.

Temari gave you a small smile and patted your shoulder, she left. You were left with a quiet Gaara inside his office. He made his way over to the couch and plopped down tiredly.

"You also really need some sleep," you chuckled and sat down next to him, "you've been up for the last thirty hours, Gaara."

He yawned and stretched his arms above his head, leaning back, "All the clans are concerned about the threat, and I'm also drowned in paperwork."

You imitated his action, "Yeh, it's best if you can take a short nap for half an hour or so, it really helps."

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"I want to hug you."

"Huh?"

"I just want to hug you," he repeated and slightly pouted.

"Why?" You questioned but still slid to his side, wrapping your arms around his torso, patting him like a baby. It was quite funny to see the Kazekage pout, yet, you liked it, a lot. You realized that the man was getting into a habit of giving you random hugs, or it was rather you who were enjoying the close intimacy.

He did not utter a word, instead, tightened his wrap around your waist as if he was stopping you from disappearing in front of his eyes.

Another day passed. Kankuro returned and reported that he did not spot anything off at Orochimaru's, which meant he was not responsible for the photos. You were desperate to smash your fist to the members of the Akatsuki who made your comrades experience such cruelties. The Sand siblings were trying their best to assuage your anger, Temari and Kankuro would literally put up a puppet show to distract you from your concerns. Gaara, however, decided to randomly hug you whenever you seemed to be lost in thoughts. You really appreciated their effort but still could not sleep with ease after you received an alarming announcement that the Konoha's Shinobi were ambushed on their way to Suna by no other ones but the Akatsuki. Your sleeping disorder worsened as the days passed, every hour was like a dreadful year to you, and the agony was unending.

Gaara could not stand your mental and physical suffer. While Temari and Kankuro went out to scout their hideout again, he was the one you were spending the most time with. He decided to have you stay for another month to get everything sorted, you were basically living with the Sand siblings then. Gaara was occupied with meetings and proposals that you frequently found yourself wandering around with no concrete purposes. And you did not like it, you were always a driven, motivated person and roaming around with no definite goals did not seem to fit.

Gaara definitely noticed that. He would give you small things to work on occasionally and busied your time with questions regarding his work. He blatantly offered, "Temari is out today so it seems like you’re going to be my Advisor."

“I don’t know much about Suna,” you voiced, “there are dozens of people that are more suitable for the job.”

“No, I want you to be my Advisor.”

“I’m from Konoha, it’s not right to have me be your Advisor, Gaara.” You argued and folded your arms in front of your chest.

“Don’t worry, these documents are just reports on Konoha and Suna in general. I need to simply summarize and draft some guidelines for the clans to operate. And there’s no one better suited for this than an Ambassador from Konoha.”

“Fine, I won’t guarantee the outcomes though.” You gave up, finding no way to win the red-haired in such arguments. You knew that he was trying to help you get better and you silently appreciated that.

Gaara beamed his smile, he did not realize how he had been smiling a lot more lately with you around. It was just like a natural reflex of him to make a curve at the corner of his lips whenever he saw you, starting from the first conversation that you two had in the hospital. He was totally amazed by your quick thinking and decisive nature, as well as your humor that unfortunately, both Temari and Kankuro did not quite get. The first time he held you in his arms was the night your body trembled with anger and fear from seeing your comrades badly hurt, he was totally lost in your bright eyes under the sky, yet found a strong urge to protect you at the same time. When you told him that you did not want him to get hurt, with your pure concern for his wellbeing, you had knocked upon the closed door of his heart. Gaara was well aware that it was his first time being mentally and physically drawn to someone else. And that person just happened to be you, who incidentally felt the same way around.

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

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu​

[sunflowersteves]

52 I thought I almost lost you, ummm alpha steve and omega reader?

author’s note || pls bear with me, I’ve never done (nor do I really read) A/B/O before so I’m hella sorry if it’s bad. Also, I’m assuming you want smutty because it’s A/B/O?? ah sorry, I’m nervous because I’ve never done it!! I really hope you like it🥺🥺

psa || I know this has the ‘marking’ thing in it, however, I don’t describe what the skin looks like when Steve marks it!!

prompt || “I thought I almost lost you.”

warnings || a/b/o, smutty as hell, vaginal sex, swearing, soft!alpha!steve

You cringed as you heard the door slam, making the whole house vibrate. You could hear Steve’s large booming steps on the hardwood floor. You sigh and start up the paperwork you were doing before he got home.

The two of you had just gotten back from a mission, a tough one at that. You had jumped in front of Steve when multiple guns were being shot at him. You had taken a bullet to the top of your shoulder, it had almost missed. There was blood seeping through your suit and you immediately hit the ground, yelling in agony. You don’t really remember what happened after that, but Natasha had informed you that Steve had gone into a pretty hefty rage.

After you got back to the tower, you were given painkillers and bed rest for the next week. Steve, on the other hand, hadn’t spoken to you one bit. He didn’t speak to you on the quinjet, in the infirmary, and even when he left the tower. You assumed he had just been wandering around Brooklyn and trying to cool himself down. However, it seemed he failed at that.

So here you were, almost 3 AM, and just finishing up paperwork before a livid Steve to burst through your apartment door. He was very loud; he would curse and rummage about, making as much noise as it seemed possible. He took off his boots halfway to the couch and took large breaths to keep his cool.

He couldn’t get that vision out of his head. It was like your blood was still on him, fresh and thick as it splat onto his skin. You scared the living fuck out of him, considering that he would be utterly devastated, rotted to the core if you had died in his arms. He just got so angry at the fact that you would risk your life for his.

He knew he would do the exact same in that situation but for some reason he just couldn’t get your death out of his head. He can’t afford to lose the one thing keeping him grounded and loved and happy.

You peak yourself out from your studies, watching as a tear rolled down Steve’s cheek. Your heart dropped into your stomach at the sight, wanting to so badly comfort him. You ever so slowly walk over to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

That’s when he spoke up. “I thought I almost lost you.”

The defining silence told you everything, especially when he stared at you with sad orbs. You still sat next to him, watching as his tears continued to roll down his cheeks. “I can’t get that out of my head. All I can see is you in my arms stained with blood and I-” 

You shushed him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You pressed a small kiss to his temple, closing your eyes at his loud sobs. “I mean I- how can you be so reckless? How can you just risk your life like that? We’re in this relationship together!”

Your soothing movements stopped and you unwrapped your hand from his shoulder. How the hell was he going to talk to you like that when he’s the one that was making everything difficult?

What relationship was he referring to because it seemed like you were the only one trying to get to that point. You exhausted yourself it seemed like at every turn. You wanted to be more than just ‘this is my friend, y/n.’ You wanted more than to hide behind walls and closed doors.

Steve had made that quite clear with long nights under the stars, kissing feverishly that this wasn’t a one time thing. However, Steve has still yet to mark you, to make you his forever. 

“That’s juicy coming from you.” A full frown pulled at his lips. The venom that was laced between your lips made his heart pang. He was beyond confused and wanted an explanation, but his response seemed to fuel you even more. 

“What?”

You shook your head, now moved a couple of spaces away on the couch. “Look, Steve, I don’t know what you think this is,” You gestured your fingers between the two of you. “But if you think that it’s okay to ignore me like a child when all you think of me as a fling then you’ve got the wrong idea.”

Steve moved his head back in surprise, slightly widening his eyes. He had no idea you thought that. He assumed that you two were in it for the long haul. “You think this is a fling?”

You just roll your eyes as his expression turned cold. “I don’t, Steve. You do.”

Now, he was beyond confused, especially since he had not once thought of you as a fling or just someone to fuck around with. He thought of you as the light at the end of the tunnel.

“I don’t at all, baby-”

A sudden force of anger surged through you and you scoffed. He was the one that always left in the evenings. He was the one who wouldn’t take you anywhere. He was the one who caused you all this pain.

You were now standing, your body towering over his sitting one. “You haven’t marked me! We’ve been together for months, Steve! Every time I try, you just leave me feeling unwanted!” His expression turns into an acknowledged one, understanding how he made you feel. He didn’t mean to, he just wanted to do it on your terms but instead, he thought your advances weren’t ever sexual making you feel unwanted. 

“Oh, little love.” He came up to reach your cheeks and squished them slightly with his fingers. You tried to hover away from him, but it was no use.

“I didn’t want to pressure you, sweet baby. When you told me about your last alpha and how he treated you, I wanted to make sure we did it when you wanted. I’m so sorry for making you feel that way.”

A sigh escaped his lips as he pulled you into his lap, resting his hands around your stomach. His nose pressed up against your neck, leaving soft fluttering kisses. “I’m sorry, baby. Can I show you? Can I show you just how much I love you?”

You nodded and leaned into him, anger completely fading away with each kiss. He then had a tiny smirk on his face before latching his teeth into your skin.

You felt yourself gasp, gripping his forearms that were wrapped around you. His lips were soft on your skin, wetting the area wholly. Your scent had skyrocketed, arousal already dripping out of your cunt.

Steve growled, his senses only rising at your pure smell. You were squirming underneath him, not familiar with the touching love from an alpha. It was intoxicating and addicting, his scent masked of oak and mint which all the more made your mouth water with desire. 

“You smell so sweet, little love.” A whimper fell on your lips at the pull of your skin on his teeth. He nibbled on the sensitive skin, watching as you writhed with pleasure from just his lips attached to your neck. You couldn’t get enough of the man; you wanted him so badly it burned.

“You want me to mark you, sweet love? I’ll mark you with my knot.” You sigh in despair as his lips left you bare. He lifted you and turned you around so you were facing him.

He took out his already hard cock, pumping it slowly. You whined, watching as a breath of chuckles left him at your impatience. “Fuck,” he whimpered slightly at the feeling of your throbbing heat being exposed underneath your skirt.

He rubbed himself back and forth on the entrance of your slick, a tight moan sent your way. Your toes curl at the sensation of him plunging into you. “please, steve, p-please.”

He made you sink all the way and you could feel the bulging veins that prominently stood out on his member. “Fuck, y/n.”

All you could do was moan as he made a steady pace, his fingers dipping into your waist. You were bouncing up and down his large member, mewling as he sat up to attach his lips to your neck again. Both of your scents intertwined together, the love and passion of it all creating your bond. 

“Steve!” His hand moves up to your cheek, cupping it gently. He watched as you bounced up and down on his cock. Your slick had now spread onto his thighs, your scent flowing up into his nose and he almost came undone there. 

He felt himself latching onto your beloved cunt watching you take is cock perfectly. Of course he had many dreams about this moment. He would rub up. and down his cock, wishing it was you. However, he hadn’t imagined this much ecstasy and desire. He wished his cock could never leave you, filling you whole at all times. 

“That’s it, y/n.” He fucked you, again and again, watching as high pitched yelps echoed across the room. You couldn’t take much more. It was all getting too much; the sound of skin slapping, his sweet sensations he dug into your neck, and his cock fucking you raw. Your head flew back, screaming and shaking uncontrollably. Your legs trembled around his thighs and he groaned, feeling close himself.

“Steve, Steve, Steve!”

He moans. “Little love, you take my cock so well.” 

He fucked you good and went beyond your orgasm, keeping his word about knotting you. Watching you come undone was the single hottest thing he had ever seen.

Eyes blew wide he watched as you screamed his name in pure lust and love. He had you completely latched, shoving his load deep within your sensitive cunt. You whimpered a bit, Steve was still pumping in and out of you, slowly.

“Fuck, y/n.” You giggled as you wiped your Steve scented slick and brought it to your lips, licking the salty white substance. Steve groaned, his hand that was cupping your cheek was now tracing the features on your face.

You got up to go clean up the two of you before Steve grabbed your hips and pulled you back down with him. “I’m not done making my mark on you, little love.”

~~

Masterlist // Permanent Taglist: @captainchrisstan @angstysebfan

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

Could you write something about how Jude is trying to hide a wound from Cardan but of course, our Cardan baby founds out and dotes/freaks out... your an amazing writer 💞💞

The Stubborn Queen

Pairing: Jude × Cardan

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2441 words

Summary: Against Cardan's wishes, Jude goes on a mission and injures herself there. She is determined to hide the injury from Cardan but that is not easy.

Jude was an absolute fool.

When she and her husband had been informed that one of the lower ranking lords from the Court of Termites was visiting Elfhame, her first instinct had been to go after them as she always did and see for herself what business the Lord had, coming here unannounced.

As if he heard her thoughts, Cardan had said to the Bomb, "Keep an eye on him. Jude and I will be busy today."

Bastard. He knew she wanted to go after him, had probably made plans to keep her away already. Jude had grumbled under her breath, much to The Bomb's amusement and then huffed away, no more than a child who had been denied her favourite toy. Now, Jude was playing with a dagger in her hand with one thought in her mind, even if she knew it made her a fool because Cardan was right. There was no reason for her to risk her life. She was not expendable anymore and yet, she was restless.

Cardan sat beside her on their bed, sheets still rumpled since he had turned the servants away. He placed a cautious hand on her shoulder, only for it to be brushed off by his wife, his queen. "Jude," he whined.

"Can I help you, Majesty?" Pissed. She was pissed and restless and worried.

Cardan rolled his eyes, then took her hands in his own. He shifted so that he was facing her now and said, "My sweet villain, you can help me by staying out of trouble. You are Queen now—"

"I know. But I need to be doing something other than this paperwork. Something real," Jude said.

If she had known being Queen would be so miserable, maybe Jude would have remained a spy.

Cardan stared at her for a few seconds. "If you insist on risking your life, Jude, you will have to take me with you."

The Queen of Elfhame pressed her lips into a thin line. "You are untrained. You would raise suspicion," She argued. "And one of us needs to stay alive."

"Then why go at all? Why not let someone else do it, Jude?"

"Because I do not trust anyone else, not when your life is concerned." There. She had said it. The memory of a fanged beast that had haunted her sleep every night since that day. Now that half the truth was out in the open, Jude saw no reason to hide the rest. "Sometimes, it feels like these last five months didn't happen—like I cut the serpent's head and you didn't come back. It reminds me what it felt like to lose you and I don't think I can survive it again."

Cardan gently wiped the tears off her cheeks. "I came back, Jude. And I will never leave again."

"But what if-what if you did? I would gladly risk my life a thousand times if it meant saving yours once. Elfhame needs you. I am the expendable one." More tears rolled down.

Ire flashed across Cardan's face—ire not at Jude but at her words. He breathed deeply at the thought of something happening to Jude but the anger did not quite leave his eyes when he said, "Never say that again, Jude. You are not expendable, not to me. If something happened..." He did not let himself finish that thought.

Jude curled up beside him silently, her eyes falling shut and breaths soft and steady. Only once the High King's breaths matched hers and she was sure he was asleep, Jude snuck out of the bed. With how exhausted they had been recently, she doubted he would wake up any time soon. Thus, Jude grabbed Nightfell and a few wicked looking daggers before she was sneaking out of her own home, all while the thought of Cardan in his serpent form still lingered in her brain.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

If Jude had thought sitting on her ass and letting someone else keep an eye on the minor lord had been foolish, she thought what she was doing now was worse. She had not planned to engage in a fight, not when she spotted the mercenaries the young Lord had hired for protection. If anything, the absence of usual guards had only made her more suspicious.

She had been right to follow him to a discreet location near Hollow Hall, had heard clearly in her own human ears the order he had made of his acquaintance. "Slip a small amount to his food, enough that he would weaken enough to convince the Queen-bitch to trade with me for antidote."

Anger flared inside her chest, visions swarmed with blood—Cardan's blood on her hand. Jude had unleashed herself upon the men.

Now, as she sloppily stitched up the gash across her abdomen, Jude wished she had listened to Cardan. If nothing else, she wished she had brought someone with herself. She had managed to kill every single one of them but ended up with this wound, the stitches itching mercilessly at her. The wound on her thigh though... She refused to even look at it. With magic in her veins, it might heal in a day or two.

There was no way Jude was going to admit to Cardan what she had done or how he had been proved right.

That was why she was limping to the throne room now, her body screaming at the pain even as she willed her expression to remain calm. Fortunately for her, Cardan's attention was directed towards one of the lesser nobles as Jude settled down beside him.

Her breathing had almost turned steady by the time Cardan turned to her. "Where did you disappear to, darling Jude?"

"Taryn," Jude said in a calm voice. "Taryn called to meet her at her estate."

Her thigh was throbbing badly and her head was pounding. Jude wondered if Cardan could hear the pounding of her heart against her chest over the sweet music that flowed out of a faerie's lute. Cardan placed a casual hand on her thigh, far too close to the wound and Jude tensed.

Cardan frowned. "You look pale, love. Would you like us to retire for tonight?"

Oh god, her leg was going to kill her. She twisted in her seat to face him—a bad move since it pulled at her stitches. Jude reined in the urge to wince, shook her head. "No. I didn't get much sleep. I would-I would like to lie down. You should stay." She hoped her words came out more confident than she felt.

Cardan watched warily as she rose from her throne, face carefully blank. She wanted to cry out in pain but if Cardan knew, she would not be sneaking around again. He would make sure of it.

Jude took a step ahead, then swayed on her feet. Cardan was instantly at her side, a hand placed on her lower back. "If you were so tired, you shouldn't have come here."

Then they were making their way through the ballroom, each step an agony. They had made it to the hallway, a few faeries lingering there when two of the stitches ripped out beneath her dress. By the sharp sniff beside her, she realised Cardan knew too. He had smelled the blood on her, even through the ridiculous amount of scented herbs she had rubbed herself with to cover the scent.

Cardan halted, then turned to her, panic written over his face. "What happened, Jude?"

Blood had seeped out through the purple tunic she wore. So much blood. Cardan barked out a string of curses, calling for the healers. Pure wrath glittered in his crow black eyes, even as he kept his voice soft. "Who did this, Jude? Where were you?" Then realising she was in no position to speak, Cardan said, "This is going to hurt but we need to make it to our chambers. I am sorry." And then he had lifted her in his arms, gentle as he could be.

This time, Jude could not keep the cry of pain inside. Perhaps this was hell. The pain blurred her vision, even as Jude realised she was in her room.

Cardan held onto her hand as the healers first ripped out her own stitches. She screamed every time, holding her husband's hand in a crushing grip. He had taken to wiping the sweat on her face, around her neck with a wet cloth as the healers worked. Panting through her teeth, Jude said, "I was right. He was planning to injure you so I would trade for your life. He knew... He knew too."

Cardan tensed, fighting to keep his voice steady as if her pain hurt him just as much, if not more. "What did he know, sweet Jude?"

"He knew you were the one to attack too," She said between her shouts, still breathing heavily. "My mortal life is not half as significant."

Cardan's hand stopped rubbing circles on the back of her hand. "We will talk about this later, love." She knew they wouldn't. They never did.

Jude shook her head. "You can avoid the topic all you like but even the high king of faerie can not fight nature."

Cardan looked like he wished she had struck him instead. He sat beside her silently as the healers worked, then left the chambers. Jude drifted off to sleep, hand still clutching his. When she woke up, Cardan was sitting at his desk, a steaming bowl of soup beside him.

He was beside her the moment she tried to sit up, snarling, "Don't move."

Jude might have moved then, just to piss him off if she hadn't noticed the concern in his face as he surveyed her, then thrust a bowl of steaming hot soup in her hand. "Eat."

"Stop giving me orders," Jude growled.

Cardan was not taking any of her shit today. "Perhaps if you had heeded my request before, I would not need to."

She deserved that.

Heat flushed Jude's cheeks when Cardan sighed exasperatedly and took the bowl, feeding her himself with the spoon. It reminded her of a certain mortal woman who had sat at little Jude's bedside and cared for her similarly. The memory warmed something inside her.

"Why do you do this, Jude? What did I do to deserve this torture?" She hated the way his voice broke, as if her pain overwhelmed him.

She rasped, "I am sorry."

"Do you know how scared I was? Do you have any idea how much it hurt to hear you scream, to see you in pain? You say your life is not significant and yet every time you put yourself in danger, my heart stops dead inside my chest! It does not matter whether you are spy or queen, I will never forgive you for risking your life, Jude..." Tears rolled down Cardan's cheeks, washing away the glitter that had been painted there.

Jude was stunned into silence. What could she possibly say? Her own face was damp as she tried to sit up again.

Cardan glared at her as if to say, I told you not to move. If Jude would not stop for her sake, she stopped for Cardan's. She had never fathomed someone could love her as much and yet, it must all have been true it it came out of his mouth.

"You are absolutely terrible and reckless and you have no regards for the pain you cause me and I hate you for this!" Cardan scolded, though the words held no bite.

She made a show of sighing, "I am fine, you bastard. Stop fussing."

"I will not. This is your punishment. For the next few weeks, you will not so much as leave your bed without my permission, not until you are healed."

And despite herself, despite the agony ripping through her, Jude smiled.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Cardan lived up to his words. Jude was completely forbidden from leaving her bed for the whole week that followed. It drove her insane and she might have escaped, had Cardan not spent every waking moment with her.

"I am not hungry," she told him now.

Cardan raised an eyebrow as if to say How dare you presume you have a choice. When Jude made no move to accept the bowl of soup he extended towards her, the High King sat down beside her on the bed and raised the spoonful of steaming hot soup to Jude's lips.

Jude shook her head but let him feed her. It was only when the bowl was almost finished that she said, "You worry about me too much."

"Since you do not worry about yourself, someone will have to," Cardan said.

Jude might have bit back some sarcastic remark, might have insisted he should stop fussing over if she hadn't heard the hurt in his voice. The disappointment.

She sighed. "I am sorry. You can't deny that I was right though. If I hadn't gone there, you could have died."

She needed him to understand that it had not been some twisted urge to cling to her independence or some whim she had had. She had needed to go there and assure for herself that her husband was safe.

Cardan cupped her cheek in his hands. "Anyone who hurts me would be a fool, my sweet villain. Your wrath is something that should not be provoked."

She hit him in the shoulder half-heartedly, then leaned towards her husband, her King. "Sometimes it doesn't feel real, that this happened." Only here, in the privacy of their chambers could she admit the nightmares that plagued her in her sleep. Most of them involved Cardan ending up dead.

As if he could see it in her thoughts, Cardan leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Jude's forehead. "I have given you my heart, Jude. You are not doing a very good job at protecting it."

She couldn't promise to not go off on missions again but—"I promise to learn from my mistakes."

Though that resolved things between them and the tension in Cardan's shoulders released, it did not keep him from fussing over her all day. "Where do you think you are going, Jude?" He said.

Jude rolled her eyes. "Bathroom. Will you accompany me there too?"

The smirk on Cardan's face had Jude throwing an obscene gesture his way as she made her way to the bathroom. He was waiting right outside for her when she finished, hand outstretched. Jude debated telling him she could walk but maybe it would not be the worst thing in the world to be pampered by Cardan.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

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[5-stardustbunny]

Taking a break from Housamo to throw out a LiveAHero fic!

This fic is an alternate take on the ending of Chapter One so spoilers ahead. And Violence, so fair warning for that.

Basically I asked myself hwo things might have played out if MC had memories of more than just the encounter in the prolgue

This entire workshop you’d been feeling on edge.

At first you’d thought it had been because you were anxious for Akashi’s baseball game and your own performance working as an operator in an “official” capacity. Then when day two rolled around, you’d almost convinced yourself the feeling stemmed from your concern over Akashi’s strange behavior. Even without your memories, he was an important person in your life. It made sense that you would be rattled by his sudden inability to transform into a hero.

But even once the day was won, by Akashi’s hand no less, the feeling refused to disperse.

An unpleasant sense of déjà vu tingles at the back of your neck. Something about this was wrong. Very wrong. Worried, you about-face and head towards the kids. You were probably just being paranoid…

Right?

“—Stop playing things up for the fans and help me round up the kids!”

Huckles words are like a lightning bolt to your brain. Your body is moving before you register what’s happening.

You remember now.

That Kaibutsu isn’t dead yet. Normally you would even be able to budge a towering figure like Ryekie but you have the element of surprise, not to mention the full moment of your sprint behind you. You can see his confused eyes on the Kaibutsu, not quite yet comprehending what it is he’s seeing, but instinctually moving to shield the nearby kids.

You collide with his side, throwing the hero of balance and sending him tumbling to the ground. Your momentum carries you a step into the space he just occupied. Unfortunate for you, given that it’s in this moment that the Kaibutsu’s thorn tears through said space.

“Ghhhk!”

A pained gasp escapes from behind your gritted teeth as the thorn pierces your body, punching a hole clear through your abdomen. From the corner of your eye, you see Ryekie staring at you in shock, frozen in the process of standing up. Your eyes meet and you see horror begin to creep into his expression. You hear Akashi screaming your name in terror and the sound of a blade slicing through the air. Toshuu’s sword strike kills the monster for good and it fades away.

Your knees have long since given out, so when the thorn disappears to nothingness, you find yourself crumpling into the grass. Your vision is swimming, but you can faintly make out several faces hovering above you. Akashi is crying as he holds your hand desperately, and through the immense pain you feel a flare of guilt for worrying him like this. Huckle and Ryekie are both there as well, you think their putting pressure on your wound but it’s hard to distinguish any one sensation in your agony. Both their mouths are moving, and while Ryekie is turned towards someone or something over shoulder, you think Huckle’s is speaking to you. He sounds so far away though; you can’t make out his words over the fog filling your brain. You want to ask if everybody else is okay, are the kids safe? But your vision is darkening, and you can do little more than succumb to blissful mercy of unconsciousness.

--

Huckle glared tiredly at the clock on the wall of the waiting room. Its luminescent numbers felt mocking as time continued to tick on with no word on your condition in the last several hours. After being brought to the hospital via ambulance, you’d been immediately rushed into emergency surgery, leaving the members of Parallel Fight little else to do but sit themselves down in the waiting room and wait.

Toshuu, Shouen, Kyoichi had stayed behind to take care of the children and the civilians that had gotten caught up in the incident in the park, insisting the others call as soon as they had news on your condition. After the first hour of waiting, Mokdai offered to go back to the office and get started on all the paperwork the days incident had generated so that everyone would have one less thing to worry about. Huckle argued that he didn’t need to do their share of the work too, but the camera man just gave a pained smile and said that he’d rather do something productive right now, and that this was the best way to support you and Akashi at the moment. There was no arguing against that, so Huckle sent him off with a promise to call when they had news and instructions to make sure to eat something when he could.

When the group had first arrived, Akashi had stayed busy. He knew you the best of any of them so he’d been the go to for any information the doctors couldn’t find in your records, not to mention him trying to get a hold of your family. After the first hour or so though, there was nothing left for him to do, and the redhead slumped into the chair next to Huckle, staring down at his hands with a lost expression.

Ryekie was pacing a hole into the floor not far away. The tiger kept rubbing his arms, absent mindedly trying to warm up, the jacket he’d been wearing earlier ruined when he used it to try and stem your bleeding.

Huckle shook his head sharply to dislodge the image of you bleeding out on the grass from his mind, to little success. He could still feel the blood oozing between his fingers when he’d watched you slip out of consciousness.

Huckle’s brooding is cut short when a doctor walks over and asks if they’re the ones that brought you in.

“Yes!” Akashi nearly leaps out of his seat, tone bordering on pure desperation “Please-I-How are they?!”

It’s painful to see such a kind young man in such obvious pain, but there’s nothing to be done. It had been clear from day one that you and Akashi were quite close, of course this would be hitting him hardest of all. Ryekie walked up behind the other young man and put his hand in his shoulder in silent support. Huckle stood as well, giving the doctor his full attention, trying to prepare himself for the worst.

“I wont sugar coat it,” the Doctor began, not unkindly “the damage to their organs was quite severe. However, your actions on site kept them stable enough to get them to us and into surgery. The operation was a success. It may take some time and it won’t be easy, but we anticipate they will make a full recovery.”

Akashi’s shoulders sagged like a great weight had been lifted from them, and he sank into a crouching position, covering his face with his hands. Ryekie made a noise of concern and knelt next to the red head, hands poised to steady him if need be.

“Sorry” Akashi rasped, waving his senpai off “I’m fine, I just need a minute.”

“That operator of yours is a fighter” the Doctor assured them “Their room is still being prepared, but once they’re settled, I’ll have a nurse bring you to them. We don’t expect them to wake up until tomorrow at the earliest, but you’re free to sit with them if you like.”

“Thank you.” Huckle said sincerely, shaking the doctor’s hand firmly. The man nodded before disappearing down the hall to continue his work. Huckle dropped back into his chair, scrubbing a hand down his face. You were going to be alright….It felt like he could finally breathe properly again. From the corner of his eye, he watched Ryekie help a still trembling Akashi back into his chair. Huckle offered his newest hero a few pats on the shoulder as the trio settled in for another round of waiting.

--

You looked so small, lying on the hospital bed.

You had always looked small to Ryekie, which to be fair, most people did. He could vividly remember your first meeting, sweeping you up into his arms to rescue you from danger. You’d felt quite light then, and he could still recall how you didn’t even come up to his shoulder when you’d hugged him afterwards. It had sparked a warm feeling at the time, he’d been tempted to pick you up and spin you around.

Now though, he could only feel distressed by your smallness, how frail you appeared laid out on your hospital bed.

Akashi was leaning against the bed from his chair, fast asleep. When Parallel Fight had first been show into your room, the red head had made a bee line to your side, pulling up a chair and taking your hand. He’d not moved since, and even in sleep he still clung to your hand as he had for the last few hours.

It was long past visiting hours and Ryekie absentmindedly wondered what kind of strings the boss had pulled to get them all permission to stay seemingly indefinitely. Speaking of Huckle, the other man too was asleep in a chair pulled up opposite Akashi. As your boss, Huckle had insisted he couldn’t leave until you woke up at least the first time.

Of the three of them, Ryekie probably had the least reason to be here still at 2 am, but he couldn’t leave. After all it was his fault you had been hurt in the first place. The horrible scene kept playing in front of the hero’s eyes every time he closed his eyes. Some how you’d noticed the Kaibutsu was still alive before anyone else. And with that information, you’d chosen to save him even at the cost of your own safety. He could almost feel the phantom sensation of you ramming into your side.

As a hero Ryekie was no stranger to the idea of self sacrifice. It was his duty protect everyone, even if it cost him his life to do so. He never thought twice about the path he walked. If it meant keeping everyone safe, Ryekie would gladly place his life on the line. And yet…

As he stared down at you, he wondered how you would have felt if your situations were reversed. Would you have cried? Cursed him for allowing himself to get hurt saving someone else? Would you feel as powerless as he did now?

He didn’t know.

So Ryekie swore he would not leave your side until he could apologize for failing to protect you and ask you those questions for himself, it was quite literally the least he could do.

With that in mind, he reached out and took your small hand in his.

--

Akashi didn’t think it was possible to have the worst day of his life two days in a row, but he supposed this was just the universe’s way of telling him to go fuck himself.

And here he’d though having his dream of going pro be shattered had been bad. Akashi had watched as his best friend got eviscerated right in front of him, and he hadn’t been able to do anything. Logically he knew there wasn’t anything he could have done, he was too far away, he hadn’t even been in hero form at the time. But still a sinking sense of failure sits heavy in his chest, that he’d allow someone so precious to him to end up so grievously injured.

That, in addition to the fact that he hadn’t been able to get a hold of any of your family members insured he stayed rooted in the chair next to your bed. Huckle and Ryekie had tried to get him to leave for a few minutes, at least to eat something or wash his face, but he couldn’t do it. The idea of leaving your side for even a second was unbearable. It must have gotten across to his seniors because after the first few tries, they dropped the issue.

The pair had gone down to the cafeteria to grab some food and call everyone else with an update, so at the moment it was just you and Akashi in the room. The redhead rubbed circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, while his other hand reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair out of your face, not thinking much of the action. But when your expression twitched slightly, he froze, breath catching in his throat.

Akashi watched with bated breath as your expression scrunched further, eyes finally cracking open and taking in your surroundings. He thought his heart stopped when they landed on him.

“‘kashi?” You slurred slightly, head titling slightly towards him. Your hand gave a weak squeeze and the redhead just about sobbed “’s wrong?”

Even addled by the drugs pumping through you, you still him a look of such concern that Akashi broke down. Clutching your hand in both of his, he brought it up too his forehead, crying uncontrollably.

“N-never again!” He gasped out, cling to your hand desperately “You c-can’t do s-something like that e-ever again!” Your brow only furrowed, but still you tried to sooth him “I-I’m not sure what I did but ‘m sorry.” You squeezed his hand as hard as you could in your weakened state “s’okay I’m here, I’m here.”

At that moment, Akashi wanted nothing more that to wrap his arms around you and never let go, but he settled for holding your hand as he attempted to calm down enough to tell you how happy was to see you awake.

[chloelucia13]

Chapter 2: Made of Storms

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader

Prompt: Their relationship seemed to be perfect, but after Spencer began acting odd, that perfect relationship seemed to fall apart. And when you find out why, you wish you never did. Based off the song “Forever and Always” by Taylor Swift

Warnings: this is just angst guys, there might be like a pinch of fluff, some language, it’s just sad I’m sorry (memories are in italics)

Word Count: 2487

A/N: Here’s the second chapter! I hope you all enjoy! As always, requests and taglists are open!

Read chapter one here!

Tags: @sojournmichael​

Why did that Tuesday happen?

You used to ask yourself that question because you couldn’t understand how you had gotten so lucky to find a man like him.

Now that question rings in your mind every time he ignores you, every time you’re left alone in your apartment.

That seemed to be every night lately, you sat on your couch wearing one of his college sweatshirts and tear stains lingering on your cheeks.

But tonight was one of the first nights you had spent out of that suffocating apartment, instead being dragged along with the girls to some karaoke bar.

However, your activities didn’t really seem to change. You still sat, wallowing in your own pity with a beer in your hand that you barely touched. You weren’t alone, but you still felt so alone.

“I think he hates me,” you blurted out, a crease forming between your brows.

The girls halted their conversation, all of them turning to you. “Who? Spencer?” JJ questioned, reaching out to rest her hand atop yours.

You nodded. “I... I can’t remember the last time he told me he loved me. Hell, I can’t remember the last time we even spoke to each other.”

“Y/N, I don’t think it’s possible for him to hate you,” Alex interrupted. “Maybe he’s just been busy lately.”

Again you nodded, rubbing a palm against your eyelid. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” You let out a sigh. “I-I’m really sorry for that. I didn’t mean to make you all upset.”

“Hey, hey, you don’t need to apologize. We’re friends, your problems are our problems too.”

A weak smile pressed onto your lips. “Thanks. I should probably get going though. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow. I have some paperwork I need to get done.”

“Are you sure?” Penelope urged. “Can’t you stay for another hour?”

You let out a chuckle, squeezing her shoulder as you stood up. “I’m sure, Pen. I’m really sorry. You all have a good night. Make sure to sing a Bowie song for me.”

As you began to step away, JJ caught your hand in hers. “Y/N, you know you can talk to us about anything right?”

You nodded, squeezing her hand slightly. “Of course, Jay.”

“Alright. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

God, why did those words feel so foreign on your tongue?

Darkness used to be so sweet then. Then, you knew that even if you couldn’t see him, he was still there.

“Why are you still awake?” His breath fanned against the back of your neck, his lips so close you could almost feel them on your skin. 

You turned in his arms so you were facing him, your nose brushing barely against his. “I just can’t sleep, I guess,” you hummed, letting your eyes search his. “Why are you still awake, mister?”

He scoffed playfully, nudging your nose with his before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, anything. What’s up?”

He licked his lips, eyes boring into yours. “I love you.”

You smiled, cupping his cheek. “I love you too.”

Tears were swimming in your eyes when you parked in the parking lot, making the trek to your apartment with shallow breaths.

In a rush of jingling keys and shaking hands, you managed to make it into your apartment and close the door behind you before the tears began to flow down your cheeks. Sobs wracked your body as you sunk down onto the couch, burying your face in your hands.

“Y/N?”

You sniffled, quickly wiping the tears and snot off your face before looking up to see Spencer standing in the doorway of your room- no, the room you two shared. 

He stepped over to you, hesitantly holding a hand out. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were home,” you rushed out, bowing your head and avoiding his eyes.

“I...I just needed to grab a few things. I need to run back to the office.”

You nodded, pushing yourself to your feet. “Of course you do,” you whispered, shrugging off your coat and hanging it on the coat rack.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You know I’ve been busy lately.”

“Of course. Sorry.” Your tongue darted out between your lips and you risked a glance up at him. 

“What’s going on?”

You scoffed, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what I did, Spence. We... We used to be so close. We used to fall asleep in the same bed. We used to talk to each other. Now I just feel like we’re strangers, and I feel so alone. I... I don’t even feel welcome here anymore.”

“Y/N-”

“And when was the last time you called me a pet name? You used to never say my name. You’d call me love, darling, baby. I miss that. I miss you.” You sucked in a deep breath, stepping close to him and resting your hand on his forearm. “What happened?”

He shook his head, his brow furrowing in anguish as he searched your eyes. “Nothing happened. I’ve just been busy. And tired. And my headaches...”

“I thought you were getting help for them?”

“I am, it’s just...” He sighed, taking your hand in his. “Listen, I’ll call off early tomorrow and we’ll have dinner like we used to. I promise.”

You gulped, catching your lip between your teeth as you searched his eyes. “Pinky promise?”

He grinned, interlocking his pinky finger with yours before pressing a rushed kiss to your forehead. “Pinky promise. I really do have to get going. I’ll be back later tonight, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He hurried past you, gathering his satchel before stepping over to the front door. 

“Spence?” you voiced, stopping him halfway out the door. “I love you.”

He nodded. “You too.” 

And he left you all alone.

***

Dinner was getting cold.

Your boss had let you get off early so you could rush home and prepare a homemade meal, something you hadn’t done in so long.

You had even gotten dressed up, wearing a dark green velvet dress that you wore for your six month anniversary with Spencer. Your hair and makeup were done, and you were unable to ignore the nagging fact that you hadn’t gotten done up like this in months.

At six you had everything prepared, the table set with two plates of pasta that JJ managed to wrestle the recipe out of Rossi for you.

You checked your phone at 6:09, 6:24, 6:47, 7:13, and 7:21. He still had yet to show up, and your phone was void of any calls or messages from him.

The first bottle of red wine had already been drained, and you had just uncorked the second bottle when you heard your phone chime. You rushed over to it, your heart racing with excitement like it had on your first few dates you had with Spencer.

How’s everything going? Should I bring over some brownies? Maybe some condoms? -Penelope

You sighed, blinking away the tears as you typed back a response.

He didn’t show. I thought he was still at the office. Those brownies would be greatly appreciated, though :( -Y/N

He was one of the first to leave today. I’m really sorry, babe :( If he doesn’t show in thirty minutes I’m coming over with those brownies and some chick flicks -Penelope

Thanks, Pen. Love you -Y/N

You shut your phone off and leaned back against your counter, letting out a sigh of defeat. 

Everything used to be so perfect. Even during the darkest of times, you still had each other. You still loved each other.

You still love him, you don’t think you could ever stop. It’s just that you felt so numb now. You felt nothing. It was miserable.

Even when he was home, it wasn’t for long, or he ignored you altogether. your bedroom was silent as you two would lay there together, but still worlds apart.

The pain was heavy like rainfall, drenching you down to your bones. It was storming when he was there, so close yet so far, and it poured when he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts and doubts. 

Either way, you laid there shivering, hoping for someone to come and take you to safety, to get you dry and keep you warm.

At 7:53, the doorknob to your front door turned before the door swung open, revealing a very flustered Spencer. “I’m so sorry, I-I had a late night at the office and I had to finish a lot of paperwork-”he rushed out.

“Penelope told me that you left before everyone else,” you sighed, sipping wine from the bottle. “Why are you lying to me?”

“Y/N, I’m not lying. I just took all my paperwork to the library.”

You scoffed, pushing yourself to your feet and finally taking your hair out of the loose bun that you spent 15 minutes on. “I don’t know what I did to push you away. Did... Did I say something?”

“You didn’t do anything, Y/N. I told you that.” He stepped over to you, taking both of your hands in his. 

“Then what did you do?” You looked him in the eye, letting him see the pure agony that marred your features. 

And you watched the fear fill his eyes when you spoke those three words.

“Who is she?”

That fear left as soon as it came, and he just looked... gone. He looked completely unfamiliar, someone you never truly knew.

His lips parted, and you already felt the pain tear through your gut before he could even get the words out of his mouth.

“Her name is Maeve.”

And in that moment, the way her name moved along his tongue, you knew that you no longer meant anything to him.

“Of course,” you whispered, taking a step away from him. “Of course her name is fucking Maeve. A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Y/N, don’t be mad at her-” “Mad at her? Mad at her?” You laughed incredulously, your eyebrows rising from the shock of it all. “Oh, don’t you dare turn this on her. I bet she doesn’t even know I exist! Does she Spencer? Does she know that you already have a girlfriend?”

He shook his head, pursing his lips. “Listen, I’m really sorry-”

“And now you’re gonna apologize? God, this is fucking bullshit!” You turned on your heel, pacing for a moment before stopping and turning back to face him. “You didn’t mean any of it, did you? You didn’t mean anything you said to me. None of the ‘I love you’s, none of the ‘I’ll never leave you’s, none of the ‘forever and always’s?”

“Y/N-”

“You said that to me! You said that you would always love me! You said that we’d be together for and always! You said that to me!” You sniffled, scrubbing away the tears on your cheeks. “You didn’t mean it.”

“Y/N, listen to me!” he shouted, making you freeze in place. “I love you. I still love you. I just...”

“You just love her more than me?” Your voice was weak now, all the fight leaving your body. “She’s just better than me in every way possible? Is that it?”

Tears fell from his own eyes, silver streaks dampening his cheeks as he stared helplessly at you. A wounded puppy. “I’m so sorry.”

“Did...” You sniffled, wrapping your arms around your middle to hold yourself. “Did you forget everything that we had? Did you forget all the times I held you when you cried, all the times I consoled you after you had nightmares? Did you forget... Did you forget that we were supposed to be together until the end of time? Until the earth crashes into the fucking sun and we all burn away? Or did I burn away from you already? Am I just ash to you? The remnants of something you used to love?”

A sob fell from his lips and it took everything in you to take your words back, to rush over to him and hold him and tell him that everything was okay. 

“You’re an amazing woman, the best woman anyone could ever have. I just... I don’t deserve you. I’m sorry.” He stepped towards you, and you took a step back to counter him. Another step forward, and another step backward.

“Back up, Spencer,” you whispered, begging. “Please, just get away from me.”

“Y/N-” “Get the fuck away from me! Get out!”

He did as you said, stepping back with a look of pure anguish settled on his face. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I said get out.”

He nodded, not wanting to push you any further. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He left, his head hung, and he closed the door behind him.

Sweet golden sunshine flooded in through the gaps of the curtains, and a small huff fell from your lips as it flitted across your face.

“Spence,” you whispered, nudging the sleeping form next to you. “Spence, I think we slept in.”

“Five more minutes,” he grumbled, pulling his arm out from under his head and wrapping it around your waist, bringing you back in his embrace. 

“Spence, it’s been more than five minutes. Hotch is gonna have an aneurism if you’re late again, and my boss has probably already called like five times.” You reluctantly pushed his arm off of you so you could roll out of bed, scrambling to find an outfit to wear for the day. 

He groaned, mumbling a few words of dissatisfaction before eventually getting up and getting ready himself. 

“Love?” he voiced from the other side of the room, fastening his tie.

“Yeah?” you hummed in response, turning to face him. “What’s up?”

“I...” He huffed, shaking his head. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“Spencer.” You walked over to him, resting your hands on his shoulders as you searched his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I just... I’m scared I’m gonna lose you.”

A small frown letting on your lips, and you settled one hand on his cheek. “What makes you think that?”

He shrugged. “My job is dangerous. I-I don’t know if one day the unsub will just find you and kill you, or torture you, or do anything to you, just to get to me.” He pursed his lips, trying to blink away the tears. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I couldn’t live with myself.”

“As long as I’m with you, nothing’s gonna happen to me. I trust you, and I know that you can save me from whatever happens. You’re not gonna get rid of me that easy.” You pressed a kiss to his lips before patting his cheek. “I’m gonna be here forever and always, baby.”

“Forever and always.”

[alolowrites]

Sleepless Nights

Summary: Bakugou can’t sleep ever since the brutal breakup and decides to do something about it.

Author’s Note: Here is the second story for @bnhabookclub​’s Hero Camp Bingo event. The prompt I used was Betrayal. It’s been a while since I wrote a Bakugou story, so of course he became my latest victim for an angst story (lmao). Don’t worry, it does end on a good note! 

As always, please enjoy!

Word Count: 2.1K+

Bakugou is restless.

Crimson eyes glare at the dark ceiling and his left arm unconsciously reaches over to hold you closer to him—splat.

A cold bedside greets his rough hand, the silky sheets bunching up in his deadly grasp. Luckily the linens are not alive, or else they would be begging for mercy. Nitroglycerin secretes on his palms without fail, seeping through the thin fabric; it will turn into an unrecognizable, ashy pile if he ignites the sweat beads. Bakugou hesitates because these sheets are your favorite.  

He jostles the gray covers off his body with a vicious growl. Bakugou forgot you aren’t sleeping with him anymore after what happened three weeks ago. Grudgingly sitting up, he slams his back against the headboard. Bakugou shoves his face into his rough hands and grits his teeth as he remembers that unfortunate night—damn his stupid mouth.

Bakugou breathes through his nose and reaches to turn on his lamp. The dim yellow light partially illuminates his face, but fails to brighten the darkness swirling inside his heart. He’s broken and wallowing in his despair. Both fists curl until his nails dangerously dig into his skin, a small trickle of blood oozing out that makes him curse, “Fucking hell.”

His bed groans as Bakugou gets off and trudges out the bedroom to find the first-aid kit. He annoyingly rummages through the bathroom’s cabinets, your face mask packets spilling out on the floor. The woman’s perky fake smile irritates him to no end, his right eye twitching nonstop. Bakugou aggressively shoves them back inside as he yells, “What are you so damn happy about, idiot?!”

The cabinet door cracks after he slams it with brute force; a staggered breath escapes his mouth as he grips the sink’s edge, ignoring the sting from the fresh wounds. Bakugou lifts his head until he stares at his heated reflection. Bloodshot irises glare back at him, his ashy blonde hair even more disheveled than usual. A blue kit sticks out like a sore thumb, and Bakugou snatches it; he freezes when he reads the words “Blasty’s First Aid Kit” affectionately written across the cover.

A gut-wrenching punch attacks him without warning. Growling, he shuts the light off and storms to the living room. Bakugou tosses the kit on the coffee table, plopping down on the couch to get this shit over with. He carelessly rips the alcoholic wipe’s package, tasting the bitter flavor now burning his tongue and hissing when he rubs the napkin on his bloody scratch.  

Unraveling the gauze, Bakugou realizes something is off. He hears no laughter or snarky comment coming at him. Ironically, the living room feels dead; it’s as if someone came in with a vacuum and sucked out any hint of warmth in this place. The blonde man glances at his palm with a frown. Usually, you’re the one tending to his wounds while scolding at him for his reckless behavior. He pretends to hate it, but deep down, he appreciates how much you love him.

Bakugou wishes he’d done the same for you that night.

“Babe, I’m home!” You kick off your shoes near the front door. A hand massages your neck as you crave for a nice, hot bath to soothe your sore muscles; work has been a pain in the butt lately. Once the keys fall in the bowl, you realize how everything is eerily quiet. There’s no ruckus coming from the kitchen or a delicious smell greeting you by the entrance.

You raise a curious eyebrow and walk down the hallway. Each step grows more burdensome, the floor creaking under your tense weight. Turning the corner, you see your boyfriend sitting on the couch. He’s hunched over as his fingers anxiously twiddle above his knees. Despite looking down, you notice the permanent scowl on his face and become worried, “Katsuki?”

“You’re an hour late,” he grumbles, still not looking up.

“I got held up at the office,” you cautiously approach to the brutish man with a slight frown. The black bag settles on the coffee table, “There was so much paperwork to get done before the deadline. I also needed to help out Shimizu—”

“Can’t that dumbass ask someone else?!” Bakugou barks like a mad dog, his heated eyes glaring straight at you. They catch you off guard, “Aren’t there other extras at your damn agency who can help? Or do you love spending time with him, huh?”

You seethe, “What the hell is your problem, Katsuki? He’s the new sidekick, and my boss assigned me to show him the ropes. Nothing is happening between us, so calm the fuck down!”

“Like I fucking believe that!” Bakugou shoots up from his spot, the ground shaking from his harsh stomps, “Why does he keep calling you after work-hours? Why is he always so close to you while you two are out on patrol?”

“Oh my gosh, this again?!” You exasperatedly throw your hands over your head. “Are we really gonna argue about this shit? Katsuki,” you march closer to him, pinching your nose for a quick second, “For the millionth time: Nothing. Is. Happening. Between. Us! Why don’t you believe me?!”

Bakugou scoffs, and a flash of irritation crosses your face, “What do you want me to do, huh, Katsuki? Do you want me to quit my job—”  

“Fuck yeah I do!” He interrupts, making your mouth fall in astonishment. Did your ears hear those words correctly? His mouth starts running on its own, “At least it will give me some peace of mind knowing you’re not screwing around with him behind my back—”

Bakugou freezes when a harsh slap strikes his cheek.

Tears well up in your mortified eyes. It’s unclear whether they are like this because of his offensive words or the fact you laid a hand on him. Either way, you back away from the stunned pro hero. The hand that delivered the blow continues to shake uncontrollably; you bring it closer to your chest. Bakugou finally comes to his senses and blinks his pale eyes at you.

After the shock subsides, you furiously jab a finger at him, screeching, “How dare you accuse me of doing something like that! How dare you accuse me of cheating on you when all I ever did was love you!”

“Wait!” Bakugou stumbles over his feet, and you stagger backward, “Shit, no. I-I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t!” The razor-sharp tone cuts through with as much strength as Kirishima’s hardening quirk. Bakugou stops in his tracks. Your body quivers with tears raining down to your chin, “Don’t apologize…don’t come after me…we’re through.”

The last thing Bakugou hears is the front door loudly slam behind you; he’s sure everyone in Japan heard it. And the first thing he feels after you’re gone is his broken heart wallowing in pure agony.

Bakugou punches the cushion, muffling down a cry trying to escape his lips. He’s living in a nightmare that never ends. The bitter breakup constantly replays in his mind, haunting his thoughts. It reminds him of how pathetic his life is right now. Every morning he notices the tear stains getting larger on his pillowcase, and every night, before going to bed, he feels the emptiness expanding on his right side.

His bed is now just cold, unwelcoming, and unnecessarily giant—he hates it.

Bakugou rushes back to his room, randomly picking a pair of gray sweatpants and putting them on. The lamp’s light barely helps him as he searches for his black sweater; it lounges on his chair, and the hero hurriedly pulls the hoodie over his head. The last thing he grabs is his keys and phone before exiting his apartment. After suffering in this hell hole for three weeks, he’s desperate for an escape.  

Fortunately, the weather is tolerable for his late-night journey. However, he would trudge through anything—heavy rain, typhoon-like winds, massive snowbanks—to get to you. In his mind and heart, Bakugou knows he needs to make things right with you. Sure, you two fight and argue, but it never goes too far except for that regrettable night; he crossed a line. You are the best thing in his life, and he foolishly let your relationship slip through his fingers like sand. Bakugou needs you, and for once, he’ll push his bloated pride aside to beg for your forgiveness.

But first, he has the find you. It won’t be an easy feat considering you could be anywhere; he figures you’re staying at a friend’s apartment, and Bakugou accepts the fact it will be a long night. Pulling the dark hood over his head, he shoves his hands inside the pockets and treks down the bare streets to begin his journey.  

The first two stops are a complete miss. One friend answers the door with droopy eyes and a roaring yawn—she has no idea where you are. The second friend scratches his wild bed hair; he’s so tired that he accidentally calls Bakugou “Shadow Dude” and shakes his head when asked if you’re staying in his apartment. Bakugou wonders if both your friends lied to him, but he gives them the benefit of the doubt and picks up the pace.

He arrives at the next apartment, praying that you’re here. Third time’s the charm, right?

Climbing the never-ending stairs, he finally reaches the fourth floor. Bakugou’s eyes bounce until they land on the correct apartment number. With a deep sigh, he knocks on the door a couple of times, hoping it’s loud enough to wake up your friend; the hero stops after no one answers him. His forehead softly hits on the door, a muffled thud echoing around him. Just as Bakugou turns around, the door creaks, and a faint voice stops him in his tracks, “K-Katsuki?”

Wobbling by the door with confused eyes is you; Bakugou’s breath hitches as his stance falters. He wonders if you’re just a figment of his imagination that will disappear in a blink of an eye. When you don’t, he slowly steps forward as if he’s walking on thin ice, putting the hood down. Your vision finally adjusts to the dim light shining in the hallway, and Bakugou whispers, “Hey…”

“What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep…”

“That makes two of us,” you mumble and lean against the doorframe. Despite this, your cold glare forces the hero to stay in place, “I’m still upset with you.”

“I know,” Bakugou lowers his head in shame. You glance at his bandaged hands, and your scowl softens at his lousy attempt to fix the wounds. Did he injure himself again? Bakugou rakes one hand through his messy hair, “What I said to you wasn’t right; I know you would never betray my trust, but I let my stupid jealousy cloud my damn thoughts. I’m a fucking idiot with a big ass mouth.”

You swallow a small gulp, “Yeah, you are.”  

Bakugou tests the water by taking another step. This time you don’t say anything to stop him, and he takes it as a sign to get closer. Unconsciously, you cross your arms over your chest and gaze at your purple slippers shuffling on the cold tile floor. Your heart pounds like a jackhammer as the electricity buzzes impatiently in the thick air.

A dark shadow looms over your personal space. You hesitate to raise your head, but Bakugou’s warmth radiating off his body convinces you otherwise; he leaves only a slight gap between you two. Now that Bakugou is close, you notice the deep anguish whirling through his eyes; it’s like staring at your own reflection—a shudder runs down your spine.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, shutting his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry for hurting you so much with my ignorant ass. You mean so much to me that I can’t take another second sleeping in that bed alone. I fucking miss you…”

Bakugou’s hands slide up your jittery arms, reawakening the spark that almost died inside you. He pleads like a desperate man, “Please give me a second chance…I love you too much to have you out of my life.”

Two arms instantly circle his neck, clinging onto him like no tomorrow. Your quiet sniffles reach his right ear, and Bakugou hugs you tighter in his warm embrace. Ghostly kisses pepper down your face until he captures your lips and pours his entire heart and soul into you. Delicate fingers run through his ashy hair and give it a soft tug as you smile against his lips, “I hate how much I love you, Blasty.”

A chuckle rumbles through his chest.

“Now c’mon,” you pull him inside the apartment, guiding the hero to your room, “We both need to catch up on our beauty sleep.”

Bakugou agrees with a soft grunt.

Climbing into bed together, you two finally fall soundly asleep in each other’s arms for the first time since the breakup.

And that’s the second prompt crossed off from this bingo card! Which once will be next? Stay tune!

Previous Prompt: Adopt a Pet

Thanks for reading!!

Hero Camp Bingo Masterlist

[ryqoshay]

Promptober-2021: Tri-Arame: Vampiric Blade

Primary Pairing Trio: YuuAyuSetsu Words: 641 Rating: G? T for fantasy violence? Prompt: Metal Parent Fic: Tri-Arame Time Frame: ???

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Author’s Note: 2nd entry for Oct 13th’s prompt

Summary: YuuAyuSetse take on the final vampire in a city, then...

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Setsuna gritted her teeth and pushed harder on her hilt.

Ketsuron Shouno, the vampire she was fighting sneered back and retained grip on her blade.

Part of Setsuna wanted to cast a spell, point blank, into her opponent. However, that would require her to remove a hand from her sword and risk losing the battle of strength in which she was engaged. Also, Shouno had proven to be annoyingly fire resistant.

Unfortunately, Shouno had also proved to have superior strength, as she was able to match Setsuna with only one hand. This left her other arm free, which she now swung down to swipe her claws across Setsuna’s torso.

Thankfully, Yuu’s wards held, preventing the bulk of the damage, though Setsuna still grunted from the impact. And she held her ground.

Just a little longer…

Kirik!

Eh?

Her sword… broke?

Off balance, both women lurched toward each other. Thinking quickly, Setsuna shoved the shattered shard of silver into Shouno’s chest, using their combined momentum to drive it as deep as it would go.

“Ayumu-san!” Setsuna called, dodging to the side. “Now!”

“Holy Light!”

Setsuna rolled up to a crouch in time to see a column of brilliant energy crash down upon Shouno.

The city’s most powerful vampire screamed in agony as the light burned through her and she collapsed to the floor.

Setsuna glanced over to see Ayumu, eyes closed and arms held open as she channeled her magic. Yuu stood a little behind and to the side, actively enhancing the energy available. This was not a spell to be cast amid a frenzied battle. No, they had to clear the room of henchmen before the three of them could coordinate the timing with Setsuna providing the distraction while Ayumu and Yuu focused on the incantation.

But as the last ashes of Shouno scattered away, their efforts had proven successful.

“We did it!” Yuu cheered.

“Are you alright, Setsuna-chan?” Ayumu asked, her hands already glowing with healing magic.

“I’m fine, but…” Setsuna smiled and accepted the rejuvenation.

“What about your sword?” Yuu asked.

Setsuna sighed. “Guess it’s time to visit our weaponsmith.”

----------

“Welcome.” A short, pink haired girl greeted in a monotone voice as the trio entered. “Ah, Setsuna-san, what can I do for you today?” She nodded to the other two.

“I need a new sword.”

The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the smith’s lips. “Very well, let me show you some designs.”

----------

“Our weaponsmith is Rina-chan?” Yuu asked. “I didn’t know she was playing?”

“She’s not.” Shizuku replied, looking up over her screen. “She’s still busy with some big project, but she sent me some notes for reference when I mentioned I wanted to base this character off her.”

“Ah.”

“Oh, this one looks so~ cool!” Setsuna pointed excitedly to an image on the paperwork Shizuku had given her. “But this one has better stats…”

“Those are just examples.” Shizuku explained. “You can mix and match visual design, as well as various bonus stats. The prices are listed for each.”

Now Setsuna was even more excited and she started shuffling through the pages again.

“You don’t have to decide now. Just sometime before our next session.

“I’m going to have to come up with a good name for it.” Setsuna thought aloud. “Oh, and speaking of naming things, we need to come up with something better for that spell of yours, Ayumu-san.”

“Right, something that powerful needs an intimidating name.” Yuu agreed.

“I suppose…” Ayumu accepted.

“Although, I’m still uncertain as to how a creature of darkness can wield holy light.” Setsuna pondered.

“Well if anyone could do it, it would be someone as pure as Ayumu.” Yuu decided.

“True.”

“Mohh… you guys…” Ayumu blushed and ducked her head.

The other three girls laughed before conversation turned to reviewing the session they had just run.

----------

Author’s Note Continued: I kinda cheated on this one, at least insofar as I didn’t actually use the word metal. I went with silver, which is a metal, for the alliteration, and acknowledgement that the blade is coated in it. And I originally labeled Rina as a metalsmith, but ended up changing it to weaponsmith so I can use her again for other, non-metal, weapons if I want to later, because I’m pretty sure I’ll end up writing at least a fourth entry, what with still having 16 prompts left; one is almost certainly going to inspire something.

Also, kinda cheated with the title. I’m curious how many readers have caught on... I know one was suspicious a couple months ago...

Anyway, still having fun with both this new TTRPG arc and of course the prompt event overall.

[masterwords]

Impossible Things (Part Six)

Here we are, my pretties!  The end of the saga!  Thank you SO MUCH for reading, and for commenting!  It means the world to me.  As always, I’m always open to asks/requests - I (clearly) play favorites with Hotch/Rossi, but I’m open to a few others or non-ship asks.  

See Also:  Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five Warnings:  Death, blood, WHUMP (Hotch, mostly)

...........................................PART SIX..............................................................

And then there were three.

“Okay, my lovelies,” Garcia began, her face glowing from the screen of Emily's laptop as what was left of the team gathered around on the jet.  “What we know is this:  the guards decided their union wasn't doing enough to get them what they consider fair compensation, so they decided to show everyone how important they are by coordinating a prison riot.  Most of the prisoners are out in the yard, there were some that decided to stay in their cells.  The smart ones I guess.  The ones who didn’t let the guards use them for their advantage.  It appears that Hotch is being kept with the Warden in a cell, so far as a bargaining chip but...after...” she gulped, wiping at a tear quickly before anyone caught it.  

“After what Garcia?” Reid asked, not even looking at her.  He'd been filling out his paperwork on the Tampa case, trying to get it done before it ever landed on Hotch's desk.  He figured it was the least he could do.  When she didn't immediately reply, he looked up and saw the stricken faces of JJ and Emily looking back at him.  He’d missed out on something big, like usual.   Whether intentional or not, he wasn’t sure.

“Garcia, play the call for Reid, maybe he'll hear something we couldn't.  Something that'll help us.”

The call, in its entirety, was 2 minutes and 47 seconds of agony.  Emily couldn't believe she was listening to it again.  JJ had excused herself, unable to do so.  Garcia cried, big crocodile tears, even before the call had begun.  There Spencer sat, his eyes closed, taking it all in.  Every time Hotch made a sound, Spencer seemed to tense, his muscles flexing almost imperceptibly in a way that even Emily read as pure rage.  As it ended, Spencer opened his eyes to JJ handing him a cup of coffee and sitting back down, Garcia wiping tears and ruined makeup off of her cheeks, and Emily's cold, dead stare.  She'd heard it too many times now, every bit of her felt icy and cruel, the only way she could do this without losing her mind was to fuel it into calculated anger.   Spencer cleared his throat, just making sure his voice was still there.  

“There were at least 4 people involved – Hotch, the Warden, and two guards.  I could hear one guard calling out to the Warden, telling him what to do...but there was another that was muttering something that I only picked up twice.  It sounded like he was saying 'take it easy don't kill him' the first time, and the second time was 'don't kill him'.  It didn't sound remorseful though, it sounded frightened.  Like he'd afraid of what's going to happen to him if they kill Hotch.”

“Fuck,” Emily muttered under her breath at nothing in particular.  It was just how she was feeling.  Usually she tried to keep her sailor's mouth under wraps, but she didn't much care right now for formality.  “What do we do Garcia?  Is there anything we can do?”

“Get to Lewisburg, my pretties.  The police know you're on your way and they're going to work with you.”

“Thank you, Garcia.”

…............................................................................................................................

Dave was beside himself, pacing back and forth with his head in his hands.  He felt nauseous, and he wasn't sure if it was over Aaron or his own head injury, but it didn't much matter.   Derek had been visiting with the hostages, ever the social one, and under better circumstances Dave would have joined in.  He'd called Jessica already, told her as much as she needed to know and as little as he could get away with, for the sole purpose of asking her to make arrangements for Jack in his father's absence.   Of course she'd done it, of course she hadn't even complained, and of course she hadn't asked anything in return but Dave promised he'd personally make it up to her for ruining her vacation.  When she asked if Aaron was okay, Dave's silence spoke volumes – how could he answer her?  What he pulled out was a half-truth, deceptive but well-meaning – he just told her they didn't know yet.  She'd been around long enough to figure what that meant.  

“Rossi,” Derek called, sauntering over to where Dave was pacing, going over and over his conversation with Jessica, wishing he'd been able to tell her more.  She deserved better than his silence and he knew it.  She deserved better than a lot of what she got.  

“He kept his phone on him,” Dave blurted out, stopping suddenly and staring hard at Derek with wild eyes. “He did what I asked.”

“What?” Derek asked, momentarily forgetting why he'd come over now.  Dave looked intensely right at Derek, his fists in balls at his sides.  

“Our last conversation, he called me just before he got on the road and I told him to keep his phone on him, in case anything happened.  He listened to me.”  

“Yeah, “ Derek's voice was low, cautious.  Dave was like a caged animal, distressed and injured and scared, and Derek could see that he was dangerously close to his breaking point.  “That's good.  That's good.  Hold onto that.”  

“He needs our help and we're trapped in this - “ Light.  Light broke through from the wall opposite them, just a crack at first, but it widened slowly as chunks of debris were carted away.  Dave stared at it as if it were an illusion.  “Is that...”

“Yeah.  We're getting out,” Derek said softly, pressing his hand to Dave's shoulder.  Now he remembered why he'd come over.  “We have to get checked out by the EMTs before we can leave.  I know, I know...neither of us wants to do it but we need to check all the boxes with this one, Rossi.  There's a jet waiting for us when we're ready, one way to Lewisburg.”

…...........................................................................................................................

On legs that barely worked, Aaron was drug through the prison by Old Spice.  His feet dragged more than they stepped, his ribs aching under the pressure from the guard's grip on him.  He coughed, leaving a trail of blood like breadcrumbs through the now empty corridors of the prison. Everyone was outside, there was gunfire and shouting and helicopters – things were not going according to the guards' plan.  

“He knows you’re weak. He’s using you. You going to kill me yourself?” Aaron asked, his voice ragged, his jaw cracking angrily at him for being moved.  He spat another mouthful of blood onto the floor and watched it splatter in every direction.  

“Not worth it,” Old Spice replied, using his one free hand now to unlock a cell door. Inside was dark, no window, no bed, no toilet, just a small black room – isolation.  Old Spice smiled eerily as he tossed Aaron inside, watching the man stumble on legs that couldn't hold his weight.  Falling to the ground, Aaron landed with a thud, not having the energy or desire to try and brace himself this time.  He just fell.  

“You enjoy yourself in here, see how pretty the rats think you are...” Old Spice threw the door closed behind him and locked it, sealing Aaron into the murky darkness.  He just lay there motionless, listening to the sounds of tiny feet skittering around the outskirts of the room, waiting for them to smell the blood and come to him.  Outside, he could hear police on bullhorns, the thundering of helicopters overhead, rapid fire shots through the yard.  He knew it wasn't long now before things were neutralized, but he wasn't sure he'd see the other side of it.  No one knew he was in there, and the guards weren't likely to mention they'd beaten an FBI Agent to a bloody pulp and left him for dead in solitary confinement.  

As the noise began to die down outside, Aaron could feel his consciousness fading in and out.  He wouldn't be able to stay awake, and maybe he didn't want to be awake when the rats finally realized what a treat had been brought to them.  He faded out, and back in, with no concept of time passing except the noises outside.  No more helicopters, no more rapid fire.

“This one!” he heard someone shout from outside his cell, and soon after, there were keys frantically turning in the locks.  The first face he saw when the light from the corridor flooded his cell was Emily's.  She approached him quickly, followed immediately by JJ and Reid, all of them crouching to surround him there on the floor.  

“You're going to be okay,” JJ said, but her eyes betrayed her words.  He saw his own waning mortality reflected in her eyes, but he forced a meek smile anyway.  Reid hung back a ways, and Aaron had a hard time seeing him. No one else, no one else came.  He wanted to ask where Morgan and Dave were, but he couldn't seem to form the words.  

“I know,” he muttered, the only thing he could force out.  He let his eyes close, just for a moment.  He’d open them again soon.  It was just...the light was too bright.  

...............................................................................................................................

Hospitals were no one's favorite destination, but this team seemed bound and determined to visit every hospital on the continent.  When Dave and Derek entered, exhausted and filthy and bandaged up, they were greeted with elation from their wayward teammates.  The hugs were tight, too tight, and too long.  They were all desperate and tired and just glad to have the pieces slowly coming back together.  

“How is he?” Derek asked, glancing at the tired faces of the people he loved. Emily shook her head and shrugged.  

“He's alive,” she offered, as if that was any sort of consolation.  “They haven't let him have any visitors yet, but they said soon.  They had to do some emergency surgery, he was a mess.”

The last thing Dave wanted to hear was a damage report, so he was thankful when no one tried to offer it.  He just wanted to see Aaron.   

When they were finally allowed to see him, the staff insisted on one at a time in the room so he wasn't overwhelmed.  Derek insisted that Dave go first, to which they all agreed.  Every one of them desperately wanted to go in there, save for Emily who would be fine never visiting someone in a hospital bed ever again, but she'd go in later anyway because it was Aaron and she was mostly sure he'd do it for her even if she didn't want it.  Whether you called that friendship or payback she wasn't sure, they walked a fine line.  

Before Dave could get far, Derek stopped him and leaned in close, locking eyes with him.  

“Do it.  Don't you leave that room without saying what you need to say.  The way he behaves, you might not get another chance.”  Dave nodded his understanding and felt his stomach try to leap up into his throat. He gulped it back down as best he could and followed the nurse down the hallway to Aaron's room.  

Sleeping.  Aaron was sleeping.  His face was a mess of ghastly bruises and dried blood, his body was a patchwork of bandages and braces and monitors and cords, but he looked peaceful – must be good drugs, Dave thought. He pulled a chair close to the bed and sat beside his friend, just staring at him, unable to look away.  His head was pounding, and the longer he sat, the harder it seemed to keep his eyes open.  He’d been sustained by anger and worry and fear, but now being beside Aaron, it all gave way to simple exhaustion.  Gently, he folded his arms on the bed beside Aaron, resting his head there, the rhythmic beeping of the monitors lulling him into a light sleep.  

“Dave,” Aaron whispered softly some time later, his voice thin and ghostly pale, but it woke Dave anyway.  “What happened to you?  You're hurt...”  Fingers trailed gently along the bandage on Dave's forehead, eyes filled with worry. Dave shook his head, smiling.  

“You're one to talk.”

“It isn't supposed to happen to you,” Aaron muttered, and Dave couldn't believe the beautiful absurdity of the statement.  

“Can't let you have all the fun, Aaron.”  Silence fell between them while Aaron trailed his fingers along Dave's bandage, almost in a trance.  He was utterly fixated on it.  

“I'm not sure I'm cut out for light duty,” Aaron said finally, his eyes drifting shut for a moment before blinking open.  He was so tired.   Dave smiled – those terrible, dusty old jokes got him every time.  “I've had some time to do some thinking, Dave...”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn't realize you did that,” Dave said softly.  Aaron's lips curved into a soft smile.

“Came as a shock to me as well.”

“I've done some thinking too.“ Dave began, sucking in a sharp breath.  It was time, he had to do it now.  There were other people waiting to come and see Aaron, and he couldn't look Derek in the eye if he didn't do it.  And Jack.  If that boy knew Dave let his father sit in a hospital bed without saying anything, he would never forgive him.  Dave was certain of that.  

“I need to go first.  I need to say something now that I should have said a long time ago.  I should have been saying it every day.  Aaron, I love you.  And before you do that thing you do where you clam up and try to change the subject:  I don't need any grand gestures, Lord knows I'm not looking to get married again, but if you'd just do me the honor of letting me love you, it's all I ask.  It wouldn't be so bad if you loved me back, though.”

Silence.  Aaron's eyes were closed now, and Dave almost hoped he'd fallen back asleep, but when his voice finally came, it was soft and gentle.  “I love you too, Dave.  I thought you already knew that.  I'm not good at this stuff.”

“I know, and I don't need you to be, I'm great at it.  You kept your phone with you when I asked you to, I’d say that’s a pretty good start.”

“How did you know that?” Aaron asked, raising an eyebrow.  His phone was broken in his jacket, the screen cracked after being hit with a baton enough times.  

“I got a call...I heard...” Dave began, wishing now he’d kept the information to himself.  Aaron looked stricken, all the color drained from his face.  “It must have dialed when they were...I thought you knew.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, swallowing his nausea as the memory flooded back.  “I’m sorry.  For whatever you heard.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“No.  Not...not now.  Please.”

“Okay.  You can talk when you’re ready.  What were you thinking about earlier?”

“I don't want to say now.”

“Oh come on, I just bared my soul.  The least you can do is tell me what you were thinking about.”

“I...” Aaron began, licking his dry, cracked lips, feeling all of the scabs that must have made him look like a monster.  “I like the Predator movies better.  I'm sorry.”

“What?!  Aaron! I take back everything I just said.  Every. Word.”

“Too late.  Come here.  Be gentle.”  Dave stood up and slid onto the bed beside Aaron, careful not to lean too hard, touch too much – he knew, he'd heard, Aaron's body was a mess.  He leaned forward and, with one final moment of hesitation, kissed the other man softly.  He heard Aaron hiss, felt him flinch a little beneath the pressure, but soon he was kissing back, pushing through the ache in his jaw.  Dave heard the sounds of the heart monitor increasing and he smiled against Aaron's mouth, pressing in a little harder this time, a little more confident.  

“Gentle,” Aaron whispered between breaths, his voice ragged but now for a very different reason.  Dave only half heard him, he was too busy being lost in the power he now wielded over those vital signs.  

[ryosei-hime]

Sex and Therapy: The Mending

Cog begins the extensive repairs on Fizz and Concord grapples with the fear and rage battling for his attention. Waiting for the new episode slowed me down in writing this one as I was way to excited to be too productive. Also available on AO3.

Concord burst into Cog’s apartment without knocking. He’d run the whole way and fell several times on the stairs. His knees were skinned, the thin pajama bottoms he’d thrown on ripped, and he clutched a blanket around his shoulders. He hadn’t the patience for a shirt but still tried to retain some sense of modesty in his panic. 

He found Cog elbow deep in Fizz’s chest already. He ran to his other side which gave him a good view of his crumpled chest plate. He put his hands to his mouth as he kneeled beside him. He had blood on his face and for a moment Concord forgot it couldn’t be his own. 

“Fizz! Oh, Fizz, no.” 

Tears were already streaming down his cheeks. One of Fizz’s arms had clearly been broken,  longer than normal as he brought the hand up to Concord’s cheek. His thumb tried to wipe away the tears there, but it seemed glitchy in its movements. 

“No crying.” 

Concord grasped the hand on his cheek and hid his face in the palm. He couldn’t stop the tears. He’d been so afraid Fizz would be hurt while working and now it had come true. He knew it would and he’d let him go out there every night just because he’d been depressed. 

“Who did this?” Concord sobbed. “Who hurt you?”

“Can’t say. Confidentiality.” 

Concord’s eyes dried up suddenly and widened. Him. He’d kill him! Pure rage washed away the guilt that had been threatening to eat him alive, a dark overlay of a cross shape in his pupils as the wrath imp in him came to the forefront. 

“Tell me where this happened!” 

Fizz shook his head softly. 

“You can’t fight him. Look what he did to me. And, Concord, he has my paperwork. He still...technically owns me.” 

“No one owns you!”

Fizz’s eyes flickered and Cog pulled her arms out of his chest. 

“Concord I need you to...just go make some tea or something. I need to concentrate!”

Fizz smiled at him. 

“Go on, baby. Cog’ll fix it.” 

Concord let the anger seep from his limbs, the rage in his eyes abating. It left him tired and scared. He kissed Fizz’s hand and reluctantly released it.

“I love you. Please be okay.”

“I love you, too, my sweet Concord.” 

Concord pulled himself away and did as he’d been told. He puttered around in the kitchen but never got around to making the tea. He just watched the water boil down to nothing and eventually turned the stove off. He paced back and forth, absently wandering back towards the living room from time to time. Cog told him to get out each time without taking her eyes off her work. He felt like a puppy being scolded. 

After hours of work, Cog met him in the kitchen. He tried to run by her and to Fizz’s side, but she grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him back. 

“Wait, Concord. I need to talk to you.” 

Concord’s face screwed up in agony as he backed up and fell into a chair. Oh, no. He knew that tone. Something bad had happened. He’d died. 

“He’s alive,” Cog stated pointedly, recognizing the fear in his eyes.

Concord choked out the breath he’d held and clutched the blanket to his chest. He tried to give Cog his full attention as she went on, but he also kept trying to peek around her to get a look at Fizz.

“But the damage is extensive. It’s more than just the chest cavity and the arm. A lot of very small, delicate, and important bits got broken when his chest collapsed. It’s gonna take me a while to get him back to full functionality and I don’t know if I’ll be able to find what I need here in the Pride Ring. I won’t get technical but there’s a very important piece that needs replaced as soon as possible. It regulates his power source. He’ll be experiencing power drops and surges. If he doesn’t respond, he’s not dead. Don’t panic.”

Concord pulled the blanket up to his mouth at that. 

“But what if he...does just. Shut off and doesn’t wake back up because I can’t tell the difference between a power drop and...and….”

“Calm down. I’ll show you how to check. But, Concord, you should know, there is the risk that his system does a factory reset with all the fluctuations he’ll be experiencing. And if it does...he won’t remember you.” 

Concord felt the tears spilling down his cheeks again, a hollow feeling digging out his insides. He darted around her and she didn’t try to stop him this time. He rushed to kneel beside Fizz once more, taking his hand. He tried to get his tears under control and put on a brave face. 

“See,” Fizz said, smiling up at him. “Cog’s got everything under control.” 

Concord nodded, fighting back more tears. Fizz had so much confidence in Cog. He thought of her as some kind of miracle worker. But no matter how good a mechanic she was, she couldn’t do everything. Her resources were dictated by their location and their status. He knew how being an imp could limit your business.

“Did Cog tell you anything about your condition?” 

He shook his head. 

“Okay. You’re….you’re going to have some power surges and drops, she said. And there’s parts you need that will be hard to get. But you’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. We’ll get you fixed up.” 

Fizz squeezed his hand. 

“I know, baby. I’m not worried.” 

Concord wanted to yell that he should be. Things were so bad. And he was so scared himself. And so angry. He rubbed his face against the back of Fizz’s hand, letting the anger pull him back up from the sea of despair that threatened to overwhelm him. 

“Fizz, I need to know who he is. You have to find a way to tell me.” 

“No.” 

His voice was sharp. 

“Please, Fizz. He can’t get away with this.” 

“Oh, he didn’t. I bit that bastard’s nasty dick before I got away.” His teeth were particularly sharp as he grinned evilly, blood still staining them. “Hope the fucker bleeds to death.” 

He looked tired suddenly and his eyes began to dim. A power drop! Concord felt his system kick into panic mode.

“Too bad he’s so…..high status….has the best doctor. Probably come out with a bigger dick.” 

Even in his panicked state, Concord’s mind filed that clue away. High status meant visibility. He’d be in the public eye. Something to use later. Right now, he had to pay attention to Fizz. He leaned over to kiss him gently on the cheek, a tremble in his voice.

“Don’t go, please?” 

“Just tired. Not going anywhere.” 

Fizz slipped his hand behind his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. Somehow he missed his lips and ended up sucking on his neck, teeth scraping across the skin lightly. Concord smiled shakily as he gently coaxed him away so he could sit back up. 

“You’re determined to bite me no matter what, aren’t you?” 

Fizz’s tired eyes glowed a little brighter as a small bit of energy came rushing back. 

“Mm hm. My Concord.” 

“Oh, is that what that’s about?” Concord joked, trying to keep his own spirits up as well as Fizz’s. 

Fizz took Concord’s hand in both of his, fingers sliding up his wrist before bringing it to his mouth. He bit down lightly, pressing his teeth into Concord’s soft skin for a moment before kissing it gently. 

“Mine. My beautiful Concord.” 

“All yours,” Concord assured him, tears threatening to return. “I’ll always be yours.” 

Fizz smiled groggily and pulled him down onto his chest. Concord felt his whole body seize up as he tried not to put pressure on his injuries. Fizz pressed kisses against his horn between assertive murmurs. 

“Mine, mine, mine.”

He could see Cog standing in the door of the kitchen wincing as a hand reached futilly towards them. He pushed himself off as delicately as he could. 

“We have to be careful of your chest.” 

Concord laid down next to him carefully and curled in towards him, hoping that would satisfy him. Fizz tried to turn on his side as well. Cog actually stepped out of the kitchen this time, but Concord sat up to stop him. 

“You have to stay on your back for now.” 

“Mmm but I wanna fuck ya,” Fizz moped. 

Cog blushed and retreated back into the kitchen quickly. Concord laughed a little. 

“We’re really getting to the core of your psyche today aren’t we?” 

“You’re so cute, it makes me wanna wreck ya.” 

Fizz made grabby motions at his face and Concord leaned in to let him have it. 

“Is this what every power drop is gonna be like?” 

“If you’re lucky, baby.” 

Fizz winked at him and Concord had to kiss him again, his own fingers ghosting over Fizz’s cheek to cup his jaw. 

“Silly robot.” 

“You love it.”

“I do,” Concord whispered, brushing the circle on his cheek with his thumb. “I love you .” 

Concord stayed at Fizz’s side, Cog joining them when Fizz’s power had evened back out. Concord was worried that while he witnessed several drops over the next few hours, he wasn’t seeing any of the surges Cog had talked about. Cog was of two minds on this. She agreed it was troubling in that it meant the regulation was skewed dangerously low. But she also had concerns that surges would make him hard to control and he might hurt himself further. Either way, there was nothing they could do about it.

She eventually bid them a good night and headed to bed, leaving Concord some blankets on the couch. But Concord couldn’t find it in himself to leave Fizz’s side. He clung to Fizz’s good arm, eyes locked onto his face, watching for any sign of another power drop. He couldn’t let Fizz out of his sight for even a second. If he looked away, he would die or reset. He knew it. Fizz’s free hand rose to his face, fingers tracing his jaw softly. 

“Go sleep on the couch, baby. I’ll be fine.” 

Concord shook his head, tears flowing once more just at the sound of his voice. Tears of relief or fear, he wasn’t sure. He pressed his face against his arm. 

“No, I want to be with you.” 

“You need to sleep.” 

“I can sleep here.” 

“You know you won’t.”

Concord was surprised to find his arm coiling around him. He lifted him and brought him close enough to kiss before depositing him on the couch. He even pulled the cover from the back of the couch and tucked him in. 

“Goodnight, Concord.” 

Before Fizz could even get his arm entirely retracted, Concord hopped off the couch, bringing the blanket with him, and cuddled up to his side again. 

“No. I want to be here with you. Please? I’m so scared.” 

“Okay,” Fizz sighed, wrapping his arm around him.

He pressed his face against his side gently before hearing a slight shuffle from the hall. 

“Get on the damn couch, Concord,” Cog commanded. “What part about not jostling him did you not understand?” 

Fizz tried not to laugh, but it got away from him. 

“I’ve been overruled.” 

Concord pouted as he sat up, keeping his back to Cog. 

“Okay, fine.” 

He waited until she’d disappeared back down the hall before leaning over to kiss Fizz on the forehead. 

“Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“You will, I promise.” Fizz ran a hand down his arm.

When Concord woke in the afternoon, he immediately scrambled off the couch and across the floor. He hadn’t actually opened his eyes yet so he didn’t make it far before he cracked his head on the coffee table and had to fall back to nurse his wounds.

“Careful, baby.” 

Fizz’s arm wrapped around him and lifted him over the table to place him at his side. The hand came up to check his head as his arm unwound. Concord almost started crying again between the pain and the gentle touch of Fizz’s fingers in his hair. But he held it together, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. 

“See,” Fizz assured him as their eyes met. “I’m still here.” 

Concord nodded, taking the hand as it slipped from his head and pressing it close to his cheek. He could hear movement from somewhere else and the sound of tools being shifted around. Was Cog up already? Before he could gather the energy or wherewithal to look, she came over with her tools again. 

“Outta the way.” 

Fizz decided to save Concord the trouble of moving and simply picked him up and placed him on his other side. Cog dropped down next to him and immediately started working again. 

“Did you eat?” Fizz asked and Concord was a little surprised to see him do that to someone else.

“No. I can eat later.” 

“Eat.” 

“Sorry, I’m not Concord. You can’t tell me what to do.” 

“Well, it was worth a shot,” Fizz said with a smile. “What are you doing now?” 

“Stabilizing some more. Once this is done you can move around again. But only a little. At least enough to get home and sit up.” 

“Don’t want me on your floor for another night?” 

“Yeah, I’m not interested in babysitting. If you two want to ignore my warnings, you can at least do it where I can’t see you.” 

Concord cleared his throat and excused himself, leaving Cog to continue her work. He retreated to the kitchen and sat down at the table, putting his head in his hands. He let himself cry for a bit before wiping his face with his arm and sucking it up again. He had to focus on something else. Something that made him feel like he was getting things done. 

He took out his phone and called Lannah.

“Lannah, I need a favor. You know how I always asked you to recycle the magazines from the waiting room? Yeah. I need you to get them from wherever it is you hide them and bring them to me. No, Lannah, I’m not mad. No...Lannah...Lannah! I need them. It’s an emergency. Yes. An emergency that requires a ton of magazines. Thank you. I’ll text you the address. Just bring them when you can.” 

Concord hung up and carefully placed his phone on the table, hands shaking. Tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes as he stared down at the picture Fizz had taken of them on the couch. The two of them, smiling, no idea what would happen in a few short hours. 

The darkened cross shape slipped into his pupils again. He’d find this monster if it was the last thing he did. He had to appear in some article or news story somewhere over the course of the past six years. If Fizz couldn’t give him the name, even if he couldn’t tell him yes or no, Concord would know when he saw him. He knew the look of trauma well. 

Once he’d managed to calm himself down, he returned to Fizz’s side to wait for Lannah, watching Cog work. While she was in there, she also showed him how to check the regulator to make sure it wasn’t dead, though she assured him that was highly unlikely to occur. She seemed to be carefully avoiding any mention of the possibility that he’d reset but they shared a few looks as she skipped around the subject.

Just as she was explaining a more technical aspect that Concord, honestly, wasn’t grasping, there was a knock on the door. Cog looked up in surprise and Concord realized he’d never filled her in on his plan. But she had already moved to answer it before he could speak up. She opened the door to reveal Lannah holding a very large stack of magazines in one hand and a can of soup in the other.

“Hey, did you guys know there’s like a million cans of soup in the stairwell?” 

Cog stared for a moment before reaching out and taking it from her slowly, the look on her face saying “don’t you judge me.” 

“...Soup is easy and affordable. Who are you?” 

Lannah looked her up and down with a smirk and Concord could feel his secretary’s attraction from where he sat. That’s what they needed right now. Although Cog didn’t seem to react to it in the least. 

“I’m Lannah. That’s my boss on your floor with his sexbot boyfriend.” 

Cog took another long moment to respond as Concord covered his face with his hands. 

“I really wish I knew how this became my life.” 

Lannah slipped by her with a giggle and let the magazines fall on the floor next to Concord as Cog closed the door.

“There’s one stack. What do you need these for anyway?” 

“Identification.” 

Concord held up the first magazine so Fizz could see it and pointed to the cover, finger landing right in the eye of Lucifer himself. Fizz gave him a tired look. 

“Concord, I did not belong to the King of Hell.” 

“I’m not skipping anyone,” he replied. “I’d die trying, but I’d still try.”

Fizz reached out to hold Concord’s chin in his hand, bringing his face down to better stare into his eyes. 

“That’s sweet, baby, but don’t be crazy.” 

Concord kept his face serious as he opened the magazine and pointed at the next famous demon without even looking, eyes locked onto Fizz’s. But Cog snatched it from his hands before Fizz could respond. Concord’s eyes snapped to her in shock. 

“Do you mind if I finish what I’m doing first?” Cog demanded. He could see she’d been pushed to her limits and shrank from her a bit. “You know, the life-saving stuff? It’s bad enough we can’t get the regulator in the pride ring. Who knows when I’ll be able to get it, and the longer it takes, the more dangerous this becomes. You’d think you’d be a bit more concerned with his survival than your revenge.”

Concord’s cheeks colored as he bit his lip and tried not to look at anyone. Cog had never gone off like that before, and Concord felt bad that he’d pushed her this far. She was also right. And now he felt ashamed of himself. How had he let his priorities get so skewed? 

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Cog. I’m not thinking straight.” 

Cog settled down next to Fizz to finish her work without responding and an awkward silence fell over the room. 

“I have a car, you know,” Lannah spoke up suddenly. All eyes turned to her. “If you need to go to another ring to pick something up, I can drive you.”

Concord wanted to agree immediately, but he looked over at Cog as she closed Fizz back up, a tired look on her face. She sighed and sat back. 

“If we leave soon, we can probably be back in three days.”

“Thank you, Cog, thank you.” Concord grabbed her hands but released them immediately. He didn’t think Cog appreciated her personal space being violated.

“It’s fine. I don’t want this idiot to die either.” Fizz stuck his tongue out at her playfully. “All right, Lannah. Go pack a bag and we’ll drop these two off on the way out.”

Lannah gave Cog a wink and a couple of finger guns before hurrying out the door. Concord could see a shadow of confusion on the mechanic’s face, but it was overtaken with exhaustion as she stood. Fizz sat up and as Cog headed for her room to pack a bag, he stretched his arm out to grab her wrist. 

“Eat.” 

Cog sagged visibly before turning towards the kitchen instead. 

“Fine. I’ll have some damn soup.” 

Fizz smiled and Concord watched him with a gentle expression. He’d gotten so good at taking care of people. It made him happy to see it wasn’t just him that Fizz cared about that much. Concord put his arms around his neck and fell into him now that it was safer to do so. Fizz wrapped him up in the coils of his good arm and pressed his face into the hair between his horns. 

[madpanda75]

“Snow Day”

Rafael Barba x Reader

Prompt 7: Snow for @thefanficfaerie‘s Christmas OTP Challenge

Rafael walked down the hall, his apartment door just a few feet away. His entire body sighed in relief. The weekend was finally here. While Rafael would normally use that time to catch up on paperwork, he walked into his home that Friday evening, wanting nothing more than to relax and spend the next two days with you.

“Y/N?” he called out, only to be greeted with silence. Figuring you were still at the office, he shrugged off his coat and headed into the kitchen where he spied a note on the counter.

“On the roof. Come meet me.” It read in your loopy, cursive handwriting.

As odd as your request was, Rafael complied, taking the elevator all the way to the top of the building. A strong gust of wind smacked him in the face the minute he opened the door to the rooftop.

Rafael instantly spotted you, leaning against the ledge, your hair whipping around as you gazed out at the city. He smiled and walked towards you, past Mrs. Kwan’s flowerbeds and Mr. Russo’s boxers frozen on the washline. Wrapping his arms around you from behind, he placed a tender kiss on your cold cheek. “What are you doing up here, mi amor? It’s freezing,” he purred.

“Do you smell that?” You asked, completely ignoring his original question.

Rafael sniffed the air. “I smell garbage and vent fumes.”

“Not that.” You turned to face him. There was a slightly wild look in your eye. “I smell--”

“Y/N,” he warned. “Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.”

“Snow!”

Rafael threw his head back and groaned. Over the years, he had learned that you had an uncanny way of predicting when there was going to be a snowstorm. It seemed as if all you had to do was say the word “snow” and the next morning there would be 6 inches on the ground. “Y/N, how do you know this? It’s been sunny and clear all day.”

“I have a sixth sense about these things. It’s in the air. I can feel it in my bones.” You shivered and closed your eyes. “That cool sharp sting that makes your skin tingle.”

Rafael arched a brow. “I think that’s called hypothermia.”

“Don’t tease your wife,” you said, playfully smacking his arm. “You watch, tomorrow morning you will wake up to find snow covering our street.”

“Well then we better get inside before we get caught in the storm,” Rafael teased, rubbing your arms to bring some warmth back into your limbs.

*****

Later on that evening Rafael lay in bed, checking on some emails while you were brushing your teeth. The 11 o’clock news playing on the TV suddenly switched over to the weather report.

“Alright folks, get those shovels out! Stock up on that toilet paper and bread because it looks like we’re getting some snow,” announced the meteorologist.

You ran out of the bathroom and pointed at Rafael. “Aha! See! What did I tell you!” You exclaimed with a mouthful of toothpaste before going back to the sink to spit.

“Ok, you were right,” Rafael said with a sigh. He shut down his laptop and placed it on the nightstand, getting comfortable under the covers.

You walked out of the bathroom with a smug smile on your face. “I usually am.” Turning off the lights, you went to the window and pushed back the curtain, looking out at the street below. Your hot breath fogged up the glass. “I love when it snows. The city always looks so beautiful. The world becomes soft and quiet. It’s so peaceful.”

Rafael snorted a laugh. “Sure, if you think treacherous ice, grey slush, and delayed trains are peaceful.”

“Says the man who arranged our ski trip to Gstaad next month,” you retorted and crawled into bed.

“Gstaad is different. That’s a vacation. I can ski and then just relax by the fire with you.” Rafael wrapped his arm around you, nuzzling his nose against the top of your head.  “It’s not like in New York where I slip on black ice in my new Italian loafers and end up in a dirty snow bank that a homeless man just used as a urinal.” At that last part, you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Hypothetical situation,” he replied.

You sat upright, a light bulb going off in your head. “You know what you need? A snow day.”

“A snow day?” Rafael repeated and sat up, his eyes widening.

“Yep, tomorrow you and I are gonna go outside and play in the snow. Who knows, maybe we’ll even melt that icy heart of yours.”

Rafael playfully pinched your side causing you to giggle and squirm. “Says the woman that ended up marrying the man with the icy heart.”

“Actually it was the suspenders and gorgeous green eyes that did it for me. Besides deep down I know you’re a total softie.” You booped his nose with your index finger. “Come on Rafi, unleash your inner child. Have a snow day with me. Please.” You cupped his face and gave him a slow, sensual kiss, your tongue brushing up against his before pulling away with one last playful nip to his bottom lip.

“Not a very fair tactic.” He leaned forward for another kiss only to have you place your hand against his mouth, effectively stopping him.

“So does that mean yes?” You jut out your bottom lip and pouted while batting your lashes, giving him big doe eyes. You knew he wouldn’t be able to say no.

Rafael rolled his eyes and took your hand off his mouth. “Fine, I’ll have a snow day with you,” he grumbled.

You squealed with joy and lunged towards him causing you both to flop back down onto the mattress.

“You know I can’t say no to you, cariño,” he purred, kissing you deeply.

“You’re too good to me. Best husband ever.” You laid your head on Rafael’s chest and dropped a tender kiss over his heart. “Trust me. A few hours outside in the snow and your mind will be forever changed,” you said with a yawn. In a matter of minutes you both were fast asleep, your limbs entwined while outside the snow began to drift down.

*****

You bounced on the balls of your feet, watching Rafael eat the snowflake-shaped pancakes you had made for breakfast. You had already scarfed down yours, excited to go out and enjoy the winter wonderland that seemingly appeared overnight. “You’re doing this to torture me, aren’t you?”

“What’s the rush, Y/N? We have all day,” Rafael said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I’m just excited to spend the day with you but you’re right. I’ll just sit here and patiently wait for you to finish eating.” You sat down next to him, drumming your fingers on the counter and jostling your legs. Rafael leisurely swirled a forkful of pancake around some syrup before slowly putting it in his mouth. It was pure agony.

As soon as he had finished his breakfast, you hopped out of your seat. “Ready to go!”

“I guess so,” he mumbled, finishing the last dregs of his coffee. “What’s first on the list?”

“I’m glad you asked that.” You smiled and led Rafael to the hallway closet, pulling out two sleds. “Surprise!”

He shook his head incredulously. “Where did you get those?”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” you said with a wink. “Now come on. Let’s try these babies out!”

You walked arm in arm with Rafael to Central Park, making your way over to Pilgrim Hill which had the steepest slope. Although it was still early, there was already a crowd of people beginning to form. Rafael glanced around nervously. He hadn’t gone sledding since he was a little kid. Aware of the fact that he wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, he couldn’t help but envision himself sliding down the hill and shattering his hip bone.

On the other hand, you didn’t seem to worry at all about breaking any bones as you sat in your sled at the crest of the hill. “You excited?”

“Something like that,” Rafael replied, getting in his sled.

You planted your hands on the ground on either side of you. “Ok, on the count of three. One, two, THREE!” Using your hands as leverage, you propelled yourself forward by pushing off the ground, careening down the hill.

Rafael could hear your whoops and laughter all the way down. Now it was his turn. Cautiously, he wiggled his body forward, his sled teetering before falling over the edge.

You looked around for Rafael, finally spotting him flying down the hill. Just as he was about to make it to the bottom, he hit a snowbank. Rafael’s sled caught some air, hovering several feet off the ground only to come crashing down. He fell out of the sled, landing face first in the snow.

“Rafi!” You ran towards him and rolled him over, wiping snow off his face. “Oh my God, are you ok? Are you hurt?” You asked in a panic, scanning his body for any injuries.

Rafael sat up, a smile slowly spread across his face. “Let’s do that again!” He grabbed his sled and started to run back up the hill. “Come on! I’ll race you down next time. Loser has to buy the winner hot chocolate!”

You laughed and ran after him. “Hey! Wait for me!”

*****

You lost track of how many times you and Rafael raced down the hill. When you both were exhausted and no longer in need of your sleds, you decided to give them to a nearby family and went to a coffee shop. Rafael may have ended up winning the majority of the races, but he still insisted on paying for your hot chocolate. The pair of you sat at a small table by the window, watching people enjoy the snow.

“So what’s next?” He asked, after finishing up his drink.

You stood up and took hold of his hand. “Follow me.”

There was a lot more in store for Rafael’s snow day— building a snowman, having a snowball fight, and just enjoying each other’s company. By the afternoon, you both were starving and stopped by your favorite Italian restaurant, only this time Rafael was the one with the surprise.

You left the restaurant to find a horse-drawn carriage waiting by the curb. “Thought we could take this home instead of a cab,” he said.

The carriage was white with plush red cushions. Evergreen garlands and sleigh bells adorned the outside. You approached one of the horses and softly stroked his chestnut brown fur. “How did you plan this?”

“You’re not the only one with a few tricks up their sleeve.” Rafael beamed and opened the carriage door for you.

Once inside the carriage, Rafael lay a blanket across your laps as the driver picked up the reigns, signaling for the horses to go. The sun was just beginning to set and a light snow started to fall. He smiled watching your face light up while riding through the snow-covered streets. You were absolutely radiant, a free-spirited woman who he had fallen madly in love with. You brought so much joy to his life.

“What?” You asked when you caught him staring.

“Nothing. I just had a wonderful time today,” he replied, wrapping his arm around you

You clutched your chest and gasped. “What’s this?! Could it be that Rafael Barba actually had fun in the snow?!”

“Yes, I admit it. You were right.”

“I usually am,” you teased and kissed the tip of his nose where a snowflake had landed. “Get used to it.”

Rafael glanced down at your mouth before looking up to meet your gaze. Cupping your cheek, he kissed you deeply. His tongue parted your lips, gently caressing yours. You shivered and pressed your body up against his.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered against your lips. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” you replied, passionately returning the kiss.

Moving your scarf out of the way, he dropped a kiss to the sensitive spot below your ear as his hand slid underneath the blanket, stroking your knee. “Want me to warm you up when we get home?” Rafael purred, biting down on your earlobe, his hand inching up your inner thigh.

You nodded and softly moaned, tilting your head to grant him further access. “Excuse me?” You called out to the driver. “Are we there yet?”

***** 5 weeks later*****

It was Rafael’s first week back at the office after your ski trip in Gstaad. He had been working late every night, trying to catch up on what he had missed. Luckily, he had managed to leave early on Friday and come home to surprise you. “Y/N?” He called out when he opened the door. Only you didn’t respond.

An overwhelming feeling of deja vu began to sink in. He set his briefcase down and took off his coat, walking into your apartment in search of you. “I hope she isn’t on the roof again,” Rafael mumbled to himself before calling your name again.

“I’m in the bathroom,” you softly replied.

Normally Rafael would give you your privacy, but you were acting strange. In fact you had been acting strange ever since your vacation. “Are you ok?” He asked through the bathroom door.

“I’m fine,” you said after a long moment. “You can come in if you want.”

He opened the door to find you sitting on the edge of the bathtub. “Mi amor, what’s going—” Rafael immediately went silent when he noticed the pregnancy test lying face down on the sink. “Is that what I think it is?”  You bit your lip and nodded. Rafael’s eyebrows shot up into his forehead. “Are you...I mean does that mean you think you’re...” His voice trailed off, unable to finish his thought.

“I don’t know. I think so. I took a test when we were in Gstaad and it was positive but I wanted to be sure. Did you know Schwangerschaftstest means pregnancy test in German?”

“Nope, didn’t know that one.” He ran a hand across his face, warily eyeing the test. “So..ummm..what can I do? Do you need anything?”

“Will you just sit with me? We still have two minutes on the timer.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Rafael sat next to you and took your hand in his. Neither of you said a word to each other. It was the longest two minutes of your lives. Finally the alarm on your phone went off.

You audibly gulped and nervously glanced over at Rafael. “You check. I’m too scared.”

“Of course,” he said, squeezing your hand in reassurance. He went over to the sink and flipped the test over to see the results. Rafael’s heart skipped a beat. Two lines. You were pregnant. A smile slowly spread across his face as he showed you the test. “It’s positive.”

“Really?!” You exclaimed and instinctively pressed a hand to your stomach.

He nodded, his eyes shiny with tears. You screamed and stood up, immediately jumping into his arms. Rafael laughed and held you tightly, kissing every inch of your face that he could reach, your happy tears melding with his.

You sniffled and looked down at the test. “You know, I’m pretty sure we conceived this baby during our snow day.”

“You mean that night after the sledding and the carriage ride, we did this?” He asked, gesturing to your stomach.

“What can I say? It was the snow,” you said with a shrug.

Rafael grinned and placed his hand over your lower abdomen, gazing down at his child’s home in wonder. Bending down, he kissed your stomach before standing up to pull you into his embrace, giving you a tender, sweet kiss.

From then on, every first snowfall of the year, Rafael would think back to that perfect day and the beautiful miracle that came along with it. All because of a little snow.

@glimmerglittergirl​ @southern-magnolia​ @sweetcannolicarisi​ @delia26​ @obfuscateyummy​ @sass-and-suspenders​ @eclecticminded​ @thatesqcrush​ @katmstanton​ @amirightcounsellor​ @beltzboys2015-blog​ @letty-o​ @sonnysdoll​ @lyssa1385​ @sweetsummertime99​ @burningsorr0ws​ @gibbs274​ @izzythefanfreak​ @riodallas​ @babypink224221​ @livxrafa​ @esparza-army​ @obsessionprofessional​ @ottosuricato​ @melsquared79​ @dreila03​ @frenchiefoxy​ @tropes-and-tales​ @thecraziestcrayon @goodluckfindingone

[bae-science]

❥,+,✘

❥: barefoot, sleepy wanderings

✘: forehead kisses

+: being led back to bed with patient whispers

TW: light blood, surgeries, mentions of hospital setting, needles, portrayal of OCD, vomiting

When people hear that Vanessa was diagnosed at five years old, they assume she doesn’t remember the experience. Her brain wasn’t developed enough. Other memories have clouded it over. Things got blocked out for being too frightening for a small child to deal with.

They’re all wrong, of course. She wishes they weren’t.

The experience isn’t totally crystallized in a perfect sequence of events; she doesn’t know exactly how her parents noticed her disorientation, weight loss, and difficulty with toilet training. She can’t remember the faces of the nurses who took care of her, or the doctor that tried to gently explain how drastically her life had changed forever. She doesn’t even know the title of the binder the social worker gave her parents on Type 1. Probably something ridiculous, though, since it was a pediatric ward. Sometimes she wonders if hospitals have crack teams specifically for that.

She remembers the IV, though. The way she couldn’t stop thinking about the way it lay under her skin, putting things inside her body she couldn’t see or understand, and the image of blood pooling underneath the clear tape from all the times she bent her elbow. Her mind looped the thoughts over and over again, expanding like a dense mass of black cotton that would, later in her life, prove persistent, and open to other topics of obsession. How she seemed to never be able to get warm. The exhaustion from being woken several times a night to be pricked and poked and sent back to bed for a few more measly hours of sleep, until the parade of doctors began anew. The blurry vision that seemed to take months to fade.

It seems almost comical, after twelve years of this, when a routine trip to the dentist reveals that her wisdom teeth are coming in wrong. The issue is so laughably common, so often played for jokes with laughing gas and woozy patients spouting nonsense before the anesthetic wears off, that Vanessa almost has trouble developing anxieties about the whole thing.

It’s then of course she’s informed about her own personal risk factors. The anesthesia could send her blood sugar either way: low because of the blood loss and healing required during the surgery, or high because of the adrenaline and falling asleep during the daytime. She’ll need to calculate her ratios, test her blood sugars, and monitor herself and her food while still recovering from the procedure. It makes a knot swell in her stomach as the dentist talks on, growing so large and choking that she nearly sprints for the car as her mother takes care of the paperwork, slamming the door and curling into the passenger seat to scream at the top of her lungs.

That night, Vanessa has to check the stove burners three times before she feels safe enough to go to bed. 

Karla, bless her heart, doesn’t quite understand, but Hermann does. He tells her how he felt going under, and which over the counter painkillers help and hinder sleep. They go out and purchase an electric blanket to drape over her pillow, hoping the heat will help any pain in her jaw, and both him and Karla declare they’ll be sleeping over several nights while she recovers, Vanessa not even given a chance to dissuade them. She’s never loved her friends more.

Hermann’s correct in that she barely remembers nearly the whole hour before the assistant slips an IV in, Vanessa clenching down her jaw to steady her breathing. The drive home, too, is a blurry haze of aches and the wooziness that comes with hovering just above the lower end of her blood sugar bracket. They pass by a McDonald’s hanging just on the outskirts of the city, gripping to the slow crawl of modernity by its fingernails, and Vanessa thinks of her classmate Rebecca, who boasted two years ago after getting her own wisdom teeth removed that she ate nothing but ice cream for a week afterwards. The gauze in her mouth is sticky and bland. Her stomach growls. 

Hermann and Karla are sitting on the porch steps when they pull in, overnight bags and cane sprawled beside them. Karla leaps to her feet before Vanessa’s mother is even parked, opening the passenger side door and taking her hand. Even with no small amount of anesthesia in her system, Vanessa still feels her heart skip a beat at Karla’s slim, cool fingers closing around hers.

“How are you feeling?” she asks anxiously, sliding her other hand around Vanessa’s waist and helping her up the steps. “Are you hungry? What hurts? Hermann,” she snaps, “get the Ibuprofen; I told you to have it out already!”

Hermann shoots Vanessa a look, and she gives a weak chuckle. The gauze in her mouth prevents any real speaking, but he understands. 

“She’s not dying, Karla,” he says, holding open the door as Karla hurries her inside. Vanessa’s mother and Hermann follow after them, and after instructing the twins to call for her if they need anything, gives Vanessa a careful hug and kisses her forehead. Karla looks as if every second Vanessa isn’t tucked into bed like a sardine and being fussed over is causing her personal agony. 

“‘c’n wohlk,” Vanessa mumbles, tongue refusing to shape the words right, but the gentle way Karla guides her up the stairs and down the hallway to her bedroom makes something soft and funny flutter in her chest. It’s been happening more often lately; this rush of discomforting elation whenever Karla shines that focused, diligent attention on her.

Hermann, seeming to sense that this is his role now, holds open her bedroom door and fetches her water bottle from the desk to bring it over. Karla pulls back the covers and eases Vanessa to sit down, kneeling to untie her sneakers. The world still hums with a muted fuzziness, but the sight gives Vanessa a brief, powerful urge to run her hand through Karla’s short, choppy curls. She wonders what it would feel like clipped and uniform, in the buzzcut she’s seen her admire on so many men. 

Karla pulls her shoes, then socks off, and Vanessa crawls under her comforter and places the side of her jaw most painful at the moment onto the electric blanket. She fumbles for the switch to turn it on, but Karla brushes her hand aside and puts it on medium. “There,” she says with an air of frazzled satisfaction. “Right. Now Hermann and I will be right here, and we’ll wake you every two hours if we need to to take your medication. You’re supposed to alternate Ibuprofen and Advil, and you can drink and eat but only liquids at the moment.” She turns to Hermann with the sharpness of a military general. “Hermann, get the soup out. We made soup,” she clarifies. “Well, I did. Hermann’s a horrible cook. Are you hungry?”

Vanessa shakes her head as best she can, swallowing spit that tastes like iron. “’m okay. Th’nk y’.”

Karla pulls out her desk chair for Hermann to take a seat, then sets a cluster of Vanessa’s throw pillows on the floor next to the bed. She leans back against the side and looks up at Vanessa, face craned so far back it’s nearly upside down. “Are you okay?”

Vanessa nods into the pillow, letting one hand dangle down off the bed. Karla catches it without missing a beat and runs a finger over the tops of her knuckles. “Mmhm.” She’s hungry; no breakfast besides a glass of water for the first dose of medication, but can’t find the energy to even consider calculating how much insulin she needs, especially when she’s so sedentary. Sleep, however, is a tantalizing prospect so close to going low, and Vanessa is out the second her eyes close again.

She wakes excruciatingly thirsty, disoriented and heart pounding. Her body is the kind of overheated she recognizes as a telltale sign of a high, and panic races through her as she tries to push herself up and search for her bag.

It’s not there.

Vanessa’s breath catches, and she slides her hands over the jumble of books and empty plastic cups and pens on her bedside table. Where the fuck is her bag? She needs her bag; she needs to find out how high she is; never mind that she doesn’t know she’ll hold her finger steady enough to prick it, or insert the strip into the meter, but she needs her insulin because she’s hot, and exhausted, and her numbers are definitely so, so bad right now.

She stumbles out of bed and towards the door, catching herself on the doorframe briefly before fear propels her forward. Maybe she left it in the bathroom? Did she go to the bathroom? She might need to if she’s over 240; oh God, if she’s over 200 she’ll just stick her head in the bathtub and turn on the faucet because that is way, way too high, and if her numbers are too high her A1C will be bad, and if her A1C is bad then she’s doing it all wrong and failing diabetes, which is definitely something that is possible to do, and her stomach twists with anxiety so badly at the thought of her beautiful, perfect 5.7 going up even a percentage that she barely makes it to the toilet before dry heaving.

Pure bile, void of anything else from her empty stomach, splatters her tongue and the inside of the bowl, and Vanessa presses her face against the cool porcelain before the stench of bleach makes her retch again. She hears footsteps just outside, barely processing the sound of the door opening wider over the pounding of her heart in her ears.

“Vanessa--?” Karla asks, before seeing the scene before her and rushing to her side. She puts a hand on each shoulder and immediately begins rubbing them soothingly, a sensation that does a surprisingly good deal to steady Vanessa’s pulse. 

She gags out, “High,” the last of bloody gauze finally falling into the toilet, and Karla nods against the back of her neck.

“Hermann!” she calls, “Hermann, get her kit! On the desk! Put a strip in the meter and new lancet!”

Oh, thinks Vanessa, that’s where it went, but Hermann is already clacking down the hall towards them. He quickly sets his cane on the bathroom counter and prepares the meter, then hands it and the lancet to Karla, who in turn hands Vanessa a tissue.

“Here,” she says gently, “for your mouth. May I see your hand?”

Vanessa clumsily wipes the acid from her chin and holds out a shaking hand, letting Karla take her pinky with careful fingers and prick it on the lowest setting she can. The pain is dulled there as well, thankfully, but the countdown as the meter processes her blood makes Vanessa’s stomach swoop.

When it shows 122, she frowns.

“But... ‘m hot,” she says, leaning back against the side of the bathtub. Karla hands the supplies back to Hermann and resumes rubbing her shoulders. 

“Well you were lying on a heating bad under a bunch of blankets, ‘Ness. That might have something to do with it.”

“Thirsty?” Vanessa adds. Hermann makes a startled face and quickly leaves, returning with her water bottle. As she takes it and swallows a few grateful mouthfuls, he raises an eyebrow.

“Dry mouth from anesthesia is a common side effect. You really should be drinking regularly, especially since you weren’t able to for several hours.” He takes his cane from the counter and shifts his weight to it. “Come on. You should go back to bed.”

Vanessa tilts her head back against the rim of the tub and lets out a long, shaky sigh. “Yeah. Okay. Gimme a sec.”

She lets herself lean into the feeling of Karla’s hands on her skin, the chilled lip of the tub on her neck, and hears Hermann move to lean against the doorframe. Karla never pauses for a moment. 

“You’re alright,” she murmurs, her head just brushing Vanessa’s hair. “We’re right here. You’re alright.”

She takes another breath, then nods. “’Kay. Let’s go.”