#whos actually soft and loves affection and warmth and head scratchies

[kitsunesakii]

The Stranger pt. 4

Printer Issues, Lunch Date, Flower Shop, The Stranger - Pt.1, pt.2, Pt.3, ur here, Spider in the Dark, Two is better than One, next part?

The door groaned on its hinges as Sasha moved into the hallway, instantly catching herself on the wall as the floor dipped and moved beneath her. She blinked and tried to adjust to the neon shapes and colors that collided and merged on the walls and floors. It reminded her of some retro arcade carpet. A rug on the floor seemed to actually be a mirror and she was careful to step around it rather than potentially through it. Sasha tried not to forget to breathe as she walked through the twisting hallway.

It was like being in a funhouse. The floor had the same texture as sand and when she’d reach for the wall it would bend along with her weight, tossing her to the floor. It was hard to look at, everytime her vision moved it was like the colors would move with it, creating a blur effect that made her dizzy. She swallowed the static taste in her mouth that left her throat dry.

“Hello?” She sounded like she was underwater. “Micheal, I know you're in here, I need to talk to you.” She tripped against nothing and caught herself on some end table. Sasha forced her brain to focus on moving rather than on any not-so-solid objects, looking up to see something at the end of the hallway. Something tall and lanky and just as distorted as everything else in this place. She noted the long wash of blond tangled together. Micheal.

“Archival Assistant.” His voice was a hollow echo. “Why are you here?”

She moved towards him, not risking to look away and nearly screaming when her foot didn’t seem to step on the floor and rather out into nothing.

For a small terrifying moment she was sure she was falling, her hand reaching out to grab something on instinct and curling around something. She felt long fingers grip her arms lightly, holding her in place. Sasha felt an ounce of relief, seeing blond hair stretched like taffy around them as Micheal steadied her. His face was a blur of colors.

“I need you to know, I- I- heard the tape.”

“That does not matter to me.”

Sasha shook her head. It was hard to string together a sentence in this place. “No- I need you to know that I’m not scared of you.”

“Do not lie to me.” He growled.

Her hands gripped the clothing around his forearms as she felt a spike of nausea inside her. “Last night. I wasn’t scared of you. Never of you.” Sasha hesitated. “I haven’t been on the receiving end of affection in a long time, it started me is all.” Her face burned as she pushed the words out. But she had more to say, and she felt she needed to be fast since her joints felt all wrong. “I don’t know what happened to you, why you hate what you are-”

He seethed and tried to pull away. “I do not.” She gripped him tighter.

“You claim yourself as broken, but Micheal, you’re beautiful.”

It was like someone flipped a switch. Instantly the room stopped moving, a jolting stillness that would have messed with her balance if she still wasn’t grounded to Micheal. Her ears popped again, her body felt like her own as she took a staggered breath.

Sasha looked at Micheal, he was crying. Water pooled on his cheek before floating off as if they were in space. The spirals in his eyes were looking everywhere but at her.

“I’m not, I’m not.” His words fractled around them and cut into her skin drawing blood, but there was no blood, no wound. Just her and Micheal in a hallway that didn’t exist. “It’s so cold.” He whispered finally.

She pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around him, feeling him bury his face in her shoulder, the wetness of his cheek drying on her shirt. “Do you want to talk about it?” She whispered back. “It won’t change anything for me, I’ll still be here, I’ll stay however long you need. Always for you.”

It was a long moment before Micheal spoke.

“He was led here.” Micheal uttered the words as if he was pulling a knife from his chest. “By her, the archivist, who did not care about innocent kind Micheal who was willing to do anything for her. Die for her. But he did not die. He did not die. He found the madness and made himself me.”

Sasha held him tighter as he struggled to get more words out. Finally he gave up and simply sat in her arms, taking shuddering breaths. What could she say? So she said nothing, and just breathed with him. It seemed to help though, his sways seemed more rhythmic and he let out some small content sound and lifted his head, not fully moving away just straightening to see her face.

“You should be scared of me.” He said. “I could unravel the archivist’s mind and watch as the ceaseless watcher pathetically tried to fix the pieces I had the mercy to leave.” His smile seemed to grow at the idea. “I could paint my hallways red with its blood and laugh as everything fell to madness. It's my nature after all.”

“He’s not her.” Sasha said quietly, His gaze quickly back on her soft features. There wasn’t fear in her eyes.

“I do not think I would mind.” He quipped, still looking at her.

“The part of you that is Micheal would mind.”

“So what?” He whispered. “He’s weak, and worthless-”

“Stop.” Sasha put her hands up to rest on his face. “He’s you. That matters. And as long as I’m here.” She paused, changing her mind. “As long as you let me, I’ll pull you out of the madness you’ve created for yourself. And I will do it unafraid.”

“I’m not human.”

“I’m aware.”

“I could kill you.”

“You saved me.”

“I can still kill the Archivist.”

“Isn’t he worth more to you alive?”

“He doesn’t confuse me.”

“Oh good,” Sasha smiled. “I wouldn’t want to have to compete with anyone.”

Micheal laughed at that and shifted, slowly placing a gentle, small kiss on her cheek. It was warm. “Sasha?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.” She knew he meant it. Maybe even more than he did.

Sasha chuckled slightly, then hugged him again, feeling his fingers wrap securely around her. Safety, possibly even love, settled over her bones as she relaxed against him.

“You’re welcome.”

[noridoorman]

reader x killer (platonic or romantic) hand holding? especially the killers who don't talk much? I imagine there are a few of them who'd really like holding hands or otherwise being clingy.

I'm sorry about the wait.

Killers: Trapper, Wraith, Hillbilly, Micheal, Frank & Joey, Plague, Ghostface, Oni, Pyramid Head

Trapper - Evan MacMillan

Evan's father taught him that your partner is just a price, not a person. And that's how he saw relationships for a while, nothing but a big waste of time because in the Entitys realm, you don't need a prize. He saw psychical affection such as handholding as nothing but showing off. But of course, a meek little survivor like you managed to change his mind. And now, he can’t get enough of you. Despite being incredibly uncertain and sometimes even shy with his physical affection, he absolutely loves holding your hand in his larger ones and kissing your knuckles. It’s such a casual but also sweet way to show how much he loves you and he’s all for it. He may or may not try to hold your hand when you’re asleep. Just for a sec. 

The Wraith - Philip Ojomo

Philip loves holding your hand and tracing circles at the back of it with his thumb. He more often then not fears that you wouldn’t wanna touch him because of his burns and rough and scratchy skin. But once you hold his hands in yours and tells him just how much you love him, his heart melts and he never wants to let you go. Whenever you feel sad and need to vent, he’ll intertwine your hands together and have you rant about all the things plaguing your mind right now.

The Hillbilly - Max Thompson Jr.

Max saw High-school couples in movies hold hand to proclaim to everyone how they’re in love/a thing so, obviously, he wants to try it too. But once he did hold your hand, he didn’t think much of it other than “wow, I’d rather do something else”. He thinks holding hands is not enough to show much he truly loves you and would rather hug or kiss you. He tries to act cocky about it too but fails the moment you start to become a little more dominant. But yeah, ask him to hold your hand and he’ll do it but kiss him afterwards or something.

The Shape - Micheal Myers

When you reached your hand out to his, he stared at it and titled his head to thew side. It took you full 10 seconds to take his hand and actually holding it tightly, intertwining your fingers in his. He stared at your hands in awe and couldn’t help but notice the big difference between your hand sizes. You explained to him what hand-holding is and now, he can’t get enough of it. Sometimes, he’ll play around with your fingers a bit and move them around or stroke your palm if he feels like it.

The Legion - Frank Morrison

Frank absolutely loves holding your hands but he does it mostly to show you off to the rest of the Legion. You know damn well that holding hands isn’t enough affection for him, he needs you to sit on his lap or wrap one of your arms around his abdomen while his is around your shoulder. But he won’t deny that he loves feeling the warmth of your hand against his and will hold your hand while he’s driving his car.

The Legion - Joey

Joey is a big softie and as a big softie he’ll hold your hand every second he can. The size difference between your hands makes his heart melt even more, he constantly feels the need to cuddle you like a teddy-bear. By the way he looks, you would’ve never expected him to be such a cuddle-bug. Not that you mind though, it’s a delight.

The Plague - Adiris

Adiris is very soft and gentle with her affection and hand-holding reflects that gentleness greatly. She takes both of your hands and moves them towards her face, kissing your palm in the process. Her forehead touches yours and for a moment, it seemed like the world around you faded away. Her hands gently hold yours as she peppers your face with soft kisses. You wish moments like these would last forever.

The Ghostface - Danny Johnson

Danny expects a little more from you than hand-holding. It’s not really his go-to way to show his affection to you, he’s a little more cockier and perverted with his love and that gentleness can barely be found. But in your lowest moments when you feel like you’ve lost your grip and all levity in life, he’ll be there to hold your hands and pull you back to reality, proofing his love over and over.

The Oni - Kazan Yamaoka

Kazan is ten-times taller than you are and thus has gigantic hands. And god, doesn’t he love holding you close to him. Heck, he doesn’t even mind carrying you around due to your small size and he’ll absolutely hold your hands whenever you ask him to. But he has to be careful with his grip or he’ll accidently hurt you. He usually lets your grip on his hand.

The Executioner - Pyramid Head

Pyramid Head already faces too many issues with expressing his love towards you. You guys are not a typical couple, that’s what the others always say. He can’t talk and cuddling can be unbearable with his giant pyramid on his head, holding your hands is his equivalent of kissing you. The way he grips your hand usually has different meanings you both established. One tight squeeze means “kiss”, two tights squeezes mean “hug”, and three tight squeezes mean “I love you”.You can’t help but smile whenever you can feel him squeezing your hand, especially when he does it over and over without breaks in-between.

[lilacsnid]

『✔』 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞: — 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒕 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

One night at The Right Arm; where two people finally notice what they feel for each other. 

GIF above is not my own, full credit to the owner x 

A/N: ask permission to use or re-post my work, please do not steal or plagiarize my writing x

©lilacsnid

— YOUR throat felt scratchy as you rolled onto your back on your make-shift bed on the floor. It took multiple attempts for you to try and fall asleep, yet you had been unsuccessful. 

You had been at The Right Arm for about a week now, and the recent events that had played out had taken it’s affect on everyone. Minho being captured by WCKD and Teresa betraying the whole group. Thomas was quick to plan our next move while also trying to hide how he truly felt about being betrayed by the girl he liked. His plan being to rescue Minho, keeping the promise he had made to him. 

The rest of us agreed with Thomas, knowing we’d follow him anywhere. 

However, we needed time to recover; to patch ourselves up and prepare for the long road ahead. It was exhausting with our future constantly being unknown. But as long as we all had each other, we were stronger than ever. The air was cold at The Right Arm, especially at night. You started to feel uncomfortable, so you sat up, leaning over the edge of the bed. Sighing heavily, you rubbed both of your hands over your face. Your eyes scanned the concrete room out of habit, glancing over your friends as they slept. Thomas, Frypan, Aris, Brenda, Jorge.

Yet your glance suddenly halted over Newt’s bed that was across the room. You knew he wouldn’t have gone far, but given everything that has happened, you couldn’t help but worry. Thinking about it even more, you weren’t even sure that you had actually seen him come to bed at all. Furrowing your eyebrows, you bent down to pull your boots on and quickly tie the laces. You were dressed in black cargo pants and white tank top. Due to the crisp air, you decided that it would be wise to tug a long sleeve shirt on over your singlet before you left.

I need some water, you thought. 

The dry feeling in the very back of your throat was starting to intensify and become unbearable. 

Rising to your feet, you made your way over to the open door, being cautious not to wake any of the others up. You made your way outside, noticing how the air was slightly cooler outside rather than inside that boxed room. You continue to stroll over to the outdoor kitchens, rubbing your temples in order to relieve your stress. You reached the kitchen in a matter of seconds. After you jumped the counter, you bent down to retrieve a bottle of water from one of the various crates that were littered all around the place. You jumped back over the counter once you had found one, landing back onto your feet with a thud. 

Wasting no time, you twisted the cap off the plastic bottle and tipped the bottle up to your lips to take a much-needed swig of water. You willingly continued to chug the water, letting your thoughts silence for a while. 

“What are you doing up, love?” A sudden voice startled you, coming from some direction behind you. 

Through a mouthful of water, you screamed. Yet it sounded like a high pitched squeal. You knew who the voice belonged to, you could pick his voice up out of a line-up. However, it still managed to catch you off-guard quite easily. You turned around with wide eyes, catching a glimpse of the British blonde boy you had become close to over the years. 

“Shit, Y/N! I’m so sorry!” Newt sympathized, jogging up to you and rubbing small circles into the center of your back. 

His touch instantly made your skin crawl in ecstasy. And despite the warmth that you could feel radiating off his body, this simple action made goosebumps rise on your skin. You couldn’t get enough of this guy, and even if you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, your body always said otherwise. You craved him. 

The eye contact was short-lived. You quickly spun back around, spitting the mouthful water out before it had the chance to get caught in the back of your throat. 

“Newt! What the hell, you shank!” You exclaimed, wiping the back of your hand over your lips. You tried your best to stifle the coughs that threatened to leave your mouth. A frown was evident on Newt’s face as you lifted your gaze to make proper eye contact with him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” He repeated a few times, and you could still feel the motion of his hand over your back.

You couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a giggle once your throat was cleared, playfully slapping Newt’s chest with your free hand in the process. 

“Don’t scare me like that!” You teased, your voice raising slightly as you smiled. 

Newt also let out a laugh at your actions. He raised his arms, trying to shield his chest from your hand, “Ow! Y/N, okay! I won’t do that again.”

His reaction was sweet, and you couldn’t help but flash a toothy grin towards him as he stood across from you. You lowered your hand as the air around the two of you fell silent. Newt peered over at you, his eyes scanning over your body before running a hand through his own hair.

“Are you okay?” He asked, keeping a small distance between the two of you. 

You leaned against the counter behind you, screwing the cap back onto your water bottle as you nodded in response, “Yeah, just couldn’t sleep. I was thirsty.”

Newt nodded, shifting his weight off of his bad leg. 

“What are you doing up? I noticed you weren’t in bed when I got up.” You were quick to add, curiosity getting the better of you. 

You watched as Newt simply shrugged his shoulders, he took a deep breath in before speaking, “I just went for a walk, wanted to think about things.”

You crossed your arms over your chest as you continued to lean against the counter. You looked over at him quizzically, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Newt answered with a soft expression, “I just-I haven’t been able to get my mind to settle since that night.”

The night where Teresa betrayed us all. And most importantly, the night that Minho was captured. It’s been beyond difficult; going from seeing him everyday to him suddenly being snatched out from underneath us all. 

“Me neither,” You whispered, glancing down at the ground. 

Newt bit his lip, beginning to rock back and forth on his feet, “Hey, would you mind staying up with me? Just for a little while? I just-I really don’t want to go back to bed yet and, I’m gonna be honest, I really don’t want to be alone.”

His words made your heart flutter as you suddenly saw this vulnerable side to Newt that you hadn’t seen in very long time. You wanted to take care of him. You wanted to offer him some comfort, even if it felt like the world you all currently lived in was falling apart. He had always been there for you over the years, and now it was your turn. 

“Yeah,” You breathed out, smiling gently towards him, “Of course I will.”

Newt nodded his head in appreciation, flashing you a quick smile. But soon, you noticed just how much everything that had happened was affecting him. Because as Newt kept nodding, you could see the glow of tears that has started to form in his eyes. The moonlight made his brown orbs look darker. He didn’t try and move his hands to wipe them away, he just kept them tucked into the pockets of his pants. As the tears escaped the barrier of his eyes, he scoffed sadly as they freely fell down the apples his cheeks. 

You tilted your head to the side in response, noticing how he refused to make eye contact with you. You had only ever seen Newt cry once, way back in The Glade days. 

“Oh darling,” You whispered, taking a few steps towards him. You shuffled closer until you were standing right in front of him. He still hadn’t moved a muscle, his eyes were glued to the floor but the tears kept coming. He was silent.

You reached out slowly, feeling relieved as he let you cup his cheek in your hand, you thumb moving in small and soothing strokes against his skin. 

“Hey,” you whispered again, not wanting to be too loud, “I’m right here.”

Newt slowly began to cave and soon you felt him lean into your touch. He lifted his bloodshot eyes to look into yours but soon ended up closing them. He turned his head slightly to the side to place a small kiss into the palm of your hand that still cupped his cheek. 

Tears slid down his face more rapidly this time as he squeezed his eyes shut. You just wanted to hold him, and so you did. You stood on your tip-toes, leaning up and wrapping your arms securely around his neck; pulling him into an embrace. He stepped into your embrace willingly, responding graciously by wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and burying his face into the crook of your neck. You could feel the distinct feeling of his breath hitting your shoulder; serving as a reminder that, in this moment, you had him safe in your arms. 

                      ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The two you had been talking for what seemed like hours. Here, the two of you sat; side by side, in the moonlight, leaning back against a rock. The whole time, Newt had been tracing patterns into the dirt beneath you while he opened up about what has been going on in his head. 

The air around you fell silent once again after a few more minutes of chatter. 

The sudden sharp sound of Newt breaking the stick in half that he was using to trace patterns into the sand rippled through your ears. You observed him quietly as he disposed of them, throwing the two pieces a few feet ahead of where the two of you sat. 

“Hey thanks, for being there for me,” Newt spoke up, rubbing his palms together before continuing, “For always being there actually. You’ve never let me down. Always keeping me stable.”

You turned to gaze at him, grinning from ear to ear, “I’m always gonna be there for you, Newt. You mean a lot to me.”

For the first time in a while that night, a smile formed across Newt’s lips in reaction to your words. A small chuckle erupted from him as he turned his head to look into your eyes, “I’m glad we both feel the same way about each other then.”

Silence washed over you as the pair of you continued to hold an almost intense glance with one another. Yes, it was intense. But there was something else about it. A sense of longing, a yearning desire. Both of you could feel it.  

Soon you found Newt furrowing his eyebrows, breaking your gaze to look down at the ground. 

“Are you scared?” He questions out of the blue, glancing back into your eyes, “Of the future and what’s to come.”

You sighed heavily, taking a short moment to think hard about the question you had been given. 

In the end, you nodded, beginning to twiddle your thumbs, “Yeah, I think I am. I’m scared of what could happen. I’m scared of losing more of my friends. I worry that we might not ever have a home. I’m scared whether we’re going to find Minho or not. I think I’ve been scared this whole time, I’ve just never realized it until now; after all we’ve been through.”

As you were talking, Newt’s hand had found it’s way to yours, lacing his fingers with your own in a shy kind of manner. You squeezed his hand gently in response before finishing, “I’m scared of being alone in this crazy and insane world we’ve found ourselves in. I’m scared of losing you and having to go on by myself. Apart from the others, you’re all that I have left. And I don’t ever want to lose you. Ever.” 

A sudden wave a nervousness came over you as you had just realized how much you had admitted to the boy next to you. Just how much was there, out in the open, awaiting his response. His fingers were in yours with one hand, and you soon felt his other hand reach over to lightly trace patterns into the back of your palm that was exposed. You could now feel his touch on either side of your hand, and the very feeling heightened your senses. 

Finally he turned to look at you, meeting your eyes in a way that you had never noticed before. It was love. And that was the moment when the two of you noticed just how deep you had fallen for each other.  

“Look, I don’t know who I was before the maze, none of us do, right?” Newt states, watching you as you nod in agreement, urging him to continue, “But I’m so glad I’ve been able to become the person that I am with you. I’m so glad you have been able to make me experience and feel things again. You bring out different parts of me that I never knew existed. This life is the only one I’ll ever remember, and the fact that you’ve been and will be apart of it just-it just makes me feel....happy. Like, really happy. It makes me want to work for our future. A reason to keep going.”

His words were like music to your ears. It’s like a surge of electricity went through you as you sat in awe. Now knowing you could continue on this crazy journey with your friends and Newt by your side, being more than a friend to you. A lover, a companion; it meant everything. 

“You’ve made me feel things the whole bloody time I’ve known you,” He finishes, letting out a breath he hadn’t quite realized he had been holding in. 

His shoulders rose and fell with each shuddered breath he now took. He was surprised beyond belief when you giggled, slipping your hand away from his grasp to situate yourself in his lap; straddling him with your legs either side of him. Nervously, Newt lifted his hands to rest on your hips, glancing up at you as his breath hitched in the back of his throat. 

You grinned, staring down at him as your bit the inside of your cheek, admiring how attractive and handsome he was. Placing your hands gently on the sides of his head, you saw Newt close his eyes momentarily as you ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, “I’m so in love with you, Newt.”

The corner of Newt’s mouth tugged up into a smirk as he soon relaxed underneath you. The butterflies that were going around in the pit of his stomach were almost too much for him to handle. He continued to stare up at you for a few moments, making you chuckle as he continued to smirk. 

“What are you thinking, huh?” You asked, your hands lowering to rub comfortingly over his chest through the material of his brown long sleeved shirt.  

“I feel,” Newt ushered, pulling your body even closer by moving his hands from your hips, all the way around to your shoulder blades, his hands not once breaking contact with your warm skin, “....like I wanna do this:” 

He leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your right cheek. Almost as soon as his lips meet your skin he’s pulling back, doing the same to your left cheek. You instantly crave his touch, his lips. Newt could almost sense your eagerness, so he continued.

“Right here,” He whispered as he hovered his lips over your own, “Is that okay?”

You were stunned. It’s like you had momentarily lost the ability to speak. Not trusting your voice, you held his gaze for a few moments longer before nodding, giving him permission to finally kiss you after all these years. The kiss was slow and sensual. Newt didn’t want to slip up or make a mistake. This was the first kiss he’s ever had; well, from what he could remember anyway. But he wouldn’t want to kiss anyone else but you. You were all he ever wanted, for the rest of his life. He knows that for sure. 

He’s the first to pull back gently, delicately pecking your puffy lips once more while keeping his arms firmly wrapped around you. Before pulling him back in for another kiss, you heard him whisper against your skin, “You’re all that I have too, and I promise that I’m never letting you go.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Would lowkey kill to see Kauri attempting to write poetry in his relationship with Jake era (omg Jake helping him/being the one to write it down) I always forget that he was a writer and loves poetry and I love him 10 times more every time I remember

CW: Some references to past trauma, forced illiteracy, some brief internalized victim-blaming/slut-shaming, Kauri’s low self-esteem

Takes place after Worth the Risk and Kauri’s first glimpse of his own past

“This is fucking stupid. I can’t fucking do this.” Kauri picks up the notebook, hard-backed blue with little golden stars twinkling on the cover, and throws it full-strength across the room until it smacks into the wall and drops to the ground, open to his own scrawling, struggling handwriting.

Chris, wrapped in a big fuzzy blue blanket and curled up in an armchair playing a game on his phone or texting Laken or maybe both, flinches and looks up. “Kauri?”

Kauri looks away from the earnest concern in those huge green eyes and kicks ineffectually at the coffee table, hissing when he doesn’t actually miss and his toes connect with the hard wooden leg. “Fuck. Fucking-... bullshit, I’m an idiot trying to do this, just-... god damn it. I should know better.”

There’s a silence, and then Chris asks, softly, “Know better than, than... than to what? What were you, um, you doing?”

Kauri’s jaw is set and for a second he considers lying. He’s a good liar, after all, and Chris is always so ready to believe him, he wouldn’t even question it. Safer to lie, hide the ideas inside his head, talk instead about something soft and surface-level. 

Safer to be stupid, always.

But he’s trying not to do that anymore.

He’s trying.

“Writing,” He says, finally. “I was... trying to-... write something.” The words are ground out of him nearly against his will. He glares at the notebook lying open on the floor, the scrawling handwriting of the fucked up slut still thinking he can be anything else. Looping and childish, too big almost to fit within the lines. 

“Oh.” Chris pauses, and then brightens, setting his phone aside and straightening up. “You, you sad you think that you used to, to, to, to write, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Kauri’s head hurts, a sharp punishing ache. How dare he think in metaphor and simile, how dare he try to build the villanelle, how dare he remember vaguely arguing with someone in a coffeeshop over old poetic forms being superior to poems that don’t even try to fit within a rhythm, and he just-

This is so-

He’s so stupid, thinking he could just pick it up again like it hasn’t been a decade or close, like he’s still whatever stupid shit lived in his body before he-

signed up for this-

followed a fucking hot guy outside in the dark and got thrown into a van and made into Kauri. 

“Well, my... my professor for, for, for, for Playwriting says... says writing is a muscle. You, you have to exercise. And you can’t do the, um, the, the, the-the heavy weights until you start with, with small ones.”

Kauri snorts, derisive, but it’s not because Chris is wrong - of course he’s not wrong. Part of Kauri knows it, too, that he used to write all the time, around the pounding inside his skull he knows that he used to scribble lines on napkins and paper towels and the margins of his study books, bringing together the poem itself only later, usually alone or with a boyfriend on the other side of the room. He used to be able to do this.

He used to do this all the time. 

“I wish Owen had wanted someone who could write a fucking poem,” Kauri says, voice breaking on the tears that threaten. “Maybe then I’d still be able to.” He pushes himself to his feet and stomps over to scoop up the notebook almost violently. “Why are you taking Playwriting, anyway? I thought you wanted to do set design.”

“I, I do.” Chris shrugs, eyes on Kauri, watching him walk back towards the doorway that leads to a hall and then to the kitchen. “But I thought-... I, I, I figured-... maybe if I learn how to, to write a play, it would help... visualize. For, for, for set-building. You, um. You know?”

Kauri exhales, slowly, and then nods. “Yeah. I get it. That’s a good plan - I mean, not that I would know, I’m a college fucking dropout, right?” He laughs, bitterness in every word, in every sound.

“No,” Chris replies, simply. “You, you were... abducted. We were, um. We, we, we were stolen. Your words were, um, were stolen, too. That’s what Dr. Berger-”

“Fuck Dr. Berger,” Kauri snaps, and leaves the room before Chris can make any more sense and possibly break apart Kauri’s determined self-loathing while he still wants to soak in it. 

Hating himself for what he can’t do - or what he’s been told he can’t do - is so much easier than trying to do it anyway.

Everything was easier than trying to get better.

So why is he still trying?

Notebook clenched in white-knuckled hands, Kauri climbs the stairs like a man moving to the gallows, one by one, his thoughts a swirling morass of self-hatred, and then he moves into the bedroom he shares with Jake here and stares at the rumpled covers on the bed.

He sleeps here every single night, wakes up to the same face pressed red on one side from the pillow, hears the same deep voice rumbling good morning, feels the same arm slide over his waist, the same scratchy stubble rubbing his jaw when he’s kissed. 

I have generally found, in my work, the fucking therapist’s voice echoes inside him, that when you begin to do the work to rebuild, you will find yourself dedicated over time to reconstructing not just a room, Kauri, but the entire city that was once leveled. Does that make sense?

He’d told her it didn’t.

Kauri spent years dodging therapy whenever Nat didn’t talk him into it, and he hates going. He hates having to spill all the darkness inside him to someone who never stops being so goddamn calm.

But the first time she’d said, have you ever heard about the effect that solitary confinement has on the human mind? He had told her he didn’t know, but he’d started crying, too, and hadn’t been able to explain why. 

Part of you knows, Dr. Berger had said gently. Part of you always knew.

He had never really wanted to know the person who had inhabited this skin, or try to be him again. But standing here looking at the evidence of the life he is slowly building - his clothes in a crumpled heap on the floor by the bed, his toothbrush in the little cup in the bathroom, a picture of he and Jake in a frame by the bed now, the very small silver ring he wears sometimes even though they’re not and they probably won’t but it kind of feels good to wear it sometimes... 

He wonders if Liam Harker wanted a life like this one.

---

“It’s really dumb,” Kauri mutters, pulling the pillow over his face, burning red with embarrassment. “I didn’t even really mean for you to see it-”

“It’s not dumb,” Jake says, gently. Kauri feels the dip in the mattress as he sits down, feels the warmth of his hand resting on Kauri’s thigh through the blanket. “I’m sorry I read it. I didn’t know what I was looking at. If it was supposed to be a secret-”

“No. I didn’t. I forgot I left it out on the dresser. It’s not your fault. It’s so fucking stupid. I don’t know why I even-”

“Kauri.” Jake’s voice sharpens, a little. “Stop. Stop calling yourself stupid. You’re not, and you never were, and you don’t have to repeat what that asshole told you about yourself anymore, remember?”

Kauri swallows, hard, a lump in his throat he can’t quite breathe around. “When does it stop being his voice,” He asks, muffled, “and start being my own?”

“When you let it,” Jake says, rubbing his leg soothingly. “Just like my dad’s voice. You’re not stupid. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life. I’m sorry I read it, but that’s because it wasn’t mine to read, not because it was dumb, or bad. It wasn’t.”

Kauri hesitates, then pulls the pillow to the side, looking at the sincere affection in Jake’s face, his slight smile. “Yeah? You’re not just-”

“Saying that? No, I’m not. I mean, I’m not, like, a poetry person-”

“It’s not even a real villanelle, anyway.”

“I have no idea what that means. I just... I thought it was pretty good, actually. When I realized-...  I put it down when I realized you were writing about-... you know. Yourself.”

“Liam,” Kauri says, hoarse, barely able to pronounce the name. “I wrote-”

“Yeah.” Jake takes his hand, pulls it to his lips, presses a kiss to Kauri’s knuckles. “I know. It’s really good, Kaur. You should keep writing. I promise I won’t look at any stray papers I find anymore, yeah?”

Kauri takes a breath. He feels almost dizzy, in a way that is both terrible and wonderful. The way you open yourself to the people you love is a horrible, amazing risk. The way you spill the darkest parts of yourself, not things you’ve done wrong but the things you are afraid of allowing back into the light, in case it washes them all away again.

But the light he lives in now isn’t cold, and it isn’t taking him away from himself. The light he lives in now is sunlight.

“What?” Jake’s eyebrows raise slightly. “What’s that face for?”

“Jake. What if-... what if I ask you to? Read them?”

Jake’s lips press together, and he nods, smiling slightly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Kauri’s hand. He’s always warm, Jake, even on the coldest days. He’s always warm. “I’d be-... be fucking honored, or something that sounds less bullshit than that, but I mean it. I’d be... I love you, Kauri. Seeing inside your head is what I want to do for-... for forever.”

“Maybe I’ll ask then,” Kauri says, and pulls Jake’s hand and then Jake himself, the taller, larger man settling on top of him, holding himself up on his elbows, careful not to rest all his weight. “I love you, too, you know.”

“Yeah.” Jake kisses the tip of his nose. “It’s pretty fucking great.”

Kauri’s eyes glimmer, but he closes them so Jake can’t see, and kisses his forehead. “It’s nice to think that I’m lucky and mean it.”

“I think you should read your poem to Dr. Berger,” Jake says, and when Kauri groans, he pulls back. “I mean it. She should know.”

Kauri wants to argue, but he looks into Jake’s eyes, and sighs, and says he’ll think about it.

---

AN APOLOGY

I am built from the hollow air left after your heart stopped beating

Your hands still gripped tight to the life they were ending

I know you thought of home but I don’t know where your home is

The sound of my voice is a green valley that only sends back screaming

Covered in smoke and dust that I told myself smelled like cologne

Pathways that remember your laughter silent in the years that followed

Have I done enough to build a life you would have enjoyed living?

I am built from the hollow air left over when your heart stopped beating

The heat of their hands as inevitable as a river tore down every foundation

Their cruelty buried you so deeply that only I remain

I don’t deserve the love that should have been yours to receive

The sound of my voice is a valley echoing back your screaming

I owe you an apology for walking around inside you

Crumbling ruins with my touch and calling it preservation

I’m sorry for every blade of grass growing through our bones

Am I nothing but hollow air from when your heart stopped beating?

-

Wildflowers grow inside me from soil windswept over ash

Is that life worth everything not quite dead so deep below?

Is Kauri Grant good enough to make up for Liam Harker’s loss?

In the valley of my body, does anyone but me still hear you screaming?

I owe you an apology and have to hope the life I live provides it

I wish I could ask for forgiveness from the shape of you  

We’re both ghosts, in the end, mosaic pieces shattered in shadows

I’m sorry that I’m all that’s left.

I built myself from hollow air in the shape of a heart still beating

The sound of my voice will always carry the echo of yours screaming

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @orchidscript @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @moose-teeth @whumptywhumpdump @wildfaewhump

[bubbleteaa]

Ten Bouquets [Miya Osamu x Reader]

art made by @sugawaras​! please support their work<3 

ten bouquets;; pairing: miya osamu x gn!reader fandom: haikyuu!! genres: pure fluff!! word count: 2.5K this is a gift for @writeiolite​ !! Happy birthday baby<3 I hope you had a great day, thank you so much for all the work you make for the fandom and for being an amazing person! I honestly simp for your works and for you c: I hope you like this, love you! <3

Summary:  You teach him how much you love him through bouquets.

*. : ｡✿ * ﾟ * .: ｡ ✿ * ﾟ  * . : ｡ ✿ *

First Bouquet 

Gloxinia [Love at first sight]

There is something amazing in looks. The deepness in their eyes, how the eyelashes that protect the orb of their eyes beat from top to bottom in blinks. The way that their pupils scan something they are glaring at, how those irises quench your loneliness. It is something so wonderful that it’s impossible not to love those brown eyes immediately.

You don’t understand why you fell in love with the owner of Onigiri Miya while you were the owner of “L/N’s flower service”. You just do. The first day you arrive to the plaza, you meet his eyes and you can’t stop thinking on how you would love to spy in the softness of his ogle.

This, is the first time, actually, that you make a bouquet for someone that provokes your heart beat so fast by only his sight. It takes you all night to make a sweet, beautiful bouquet loaded of shy pinky flowers. Flowers then mean exactly what you feel: “Love at first sight”.

Next day, you meet him again, obviously. The blush that creeps your cheeks is buried in the smile that he gives to you. He stares at your face, and then, he just peeks the flowers with a soft, caring smile. 

The way that your hands extends the object in your hands is quite pretty, for him. You look foolishly beautiful being just as shy near him.

It enamores him, actually. 

“I hope we can get along, Miya-san” 

He smiles at you, receiving the gift.

“I know we will, L/N-san”

Second Bouquet

Zinnia; yellow [daily remembrance]

“Remember to close the door, Miya-san”

Daily talks in a young business person, includes the thread of stress and forgetness. With that said, Miya Osamu is one of the person’s that, even as serious as he is, can forget simple things in moments full of stress. Also, mainly to talk about how funny it is to start the days with the same oddly routine. Alarm at 4:30 a.m., (5 a.m., if you are really quick), showering, exercising, getting ready and grabbed some cheap homemade coffee to start the day.

Adult life can hit different, because it means you stop being a kid. It means you have your own bills and you have to rely on work to have a “decent” life.

Then, you are there again, with a bouquet of yellow-colored zinnias, waving at him with a grateful smile. The sun is burning between the clouds of a new day with the same routine. The same sun is glowering at the floweret in your arms.

“Who is that for, uhm?” he teases, looking at you with a small, yet recognizable bliss.

“Dunno, I think it was for Semi-san”

“I think it is actually for me” he finiquitates, smiling when you nod. He walks towards you, looking at you in your beautiful e/c eyes.

The sun and the flowers are opaqueted by your own shine. You gave him the flowers and kept opening your own store. He just laughs at your clear blush.

“Remember to do the laundry, L/N-san” he chuckles, looking at you when both just were opening your locals at 6:00 a.m., two hours earlier “And to pay your cable bill”

“Dang it, I forgot about the existence of that thing” you hiss, looking at him with a smile. By the moment you open the door properly, you call him one more time “Miya-san?”

“Uhm?”

“Remember to smile” 

Third Bouquet

Gardenias; [you are lovely, secret love]

It happens during a charity event on your floor. You are giving the little kids bouquets of rosebuds with a smile while Osamu is giving out tons of onigiris he made at 2:00 a.m. And yes, you both, awkwardly met at that hour.

“Isn’t it to early, L/N-san?” he is actually concerned. You were always so clumsy for your own safety “What are you doing here?”

“Have to do the bouquets, uh. And you, Miya-san?”

“Onigiris” is his simple response, staring at how you yawned while you open the door of your flower shop “Come do the bouquets here”

Finding comfort in an adult's life is not easy. Where you expect to find it is on your pillow at eleven o'clock, just arriving from work. But, the truth, comfort, security and wonder in the form of affection, is having another person who wants to spend the concintinio with you. It is about the feeling of warmth and a loveable way of not being tired of caring for that person, as well as seeing that person and talking with that person.

You nod in affirmation with a smile.

Early that morning, a domestic yet marvelous atmosphere filled the restaurant.

Now, by 3:30 p.m., the same male that offered you to pass time with him is currently drinking apple juice in a bank near his local. You meet his optic, and you can’t help but smile while you finish the bouquet with white petals ornamenting a lot of, - some kinda mess? But, love is a mess that you are willing to be part of.

He shakes his head with a noticeable smile when you come sit by his side. The bouquet resembling true to his meaning while he just stares at the makeshift bouquet of gardenias that, even looking somewhat messy, it looked just as beautiful as the others you had made all day.

“Is it just me or does that seem like, pretty?” he smiles at you, at the same time you put the bouquet by his side “You really have a gift, eh”

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes, clearly embarrassed of his compliment “Your onigiris were good”

“Just good, L/N-chan?” he laughs when you blush at his words. It is a really good feeling to be the reason of that rosy pink flush appearing on your face.

“Stop it, Samu”

He opens his eyes, without pause, smiling. It is really nice to have someone else.

To have you.

Fourth Bouquet

Aster; [daintiness, symbol of love]

Having time for yourself is really hard by that time. Is really hard because your “time” belongs to your dream. You don’t regret it though. It is amazing to be part of something as wonderful and as yours like the flower shop you own. 

It is beautiful as well because you enjoy seeing people coming and asking you about the meaning; you love what you do. You love to be part of people's happiness and help them to fulfill their goals.

That’s why, the same day that Osamu looks at you and asks you about your personal life, you can’t stop thinking about being part of his.

“I mean, I have some time for myself, on sundays” he says, preparing you some breakfast. Now that is part of your routine; you get up earlier, though. But you enjoy it. “You should have some time for yourself as well”

“No, I’m fineeee” you pout your mouth and he shakes his head raising a brow “Okay, don’t look at me like that,” you drawl on, pouting at him.

“Let’s go out next Sunday”

It seems so unreal. The time stops while he keeps looking at you with his damn, deep beautiful eyes.

It seems so unreal, and yet you feel it.

“Where?” you finally ask, a smile creeping from ear to ear. You can’t hide your happiness “I mean, I have to check my schedule-”

He laughs at your words. And you are happy.

So happy that you interrupt him at 12:00 p.m., with a big aster bouquet, the purple flowers shivering with excitement. A small note inside between your last adorn.

“I will love to go out with you, Osamu”

Fifth Bouquet

Camellias; pink [longing for you], red [you are the flame in my heart], white [You are adorable]

Miya’s hands weren’t soft. Actually, those big hard working hands were scratchy. You never minded, though. Osamu’s hands were Osamu’s hands; so it didn’t matter if his hands were soft, scratchy or regular. The only thing that you cared about was to hold those palms in yours.

Yours weren’t exactly soft as well, in fact. Sometimes, you pinched your own hands doing your bouquets. Same bouquets that carried stories, feelings and memories. 

The bouquets that you were giving to him.

“You know you don’t need keep bringing me these bouquets” his lips moved smoothly at your sight. He was really handsome. 

Since high school, you hadn't been out on a date, much less given time to think about yourself. You couldn't help but feel grateful that he was sharing his precious time with you. 

“I can’t help it” you answer.

He smiles before taking the flowers and taking your hand after.

You don’t need soft hands to melt someone. You just need to care about them.

“You are really cute”

Sixth Bouquet 

Myrtle; [love]

The sound of the wind near the October storms is refreshing. You cannot deny that you fall in love with cold weather whenever you knock on your door. You fall in love with the existing feeling of heat that a memory, situation or person can provide.

Especially, that one special person.

For this reason, when you arrive at their local, you cannot help but feel the heat that the environment emanates. 

He looks at you from the other side of the store with a warm smile, your hair is being lit by the monotonous light of the store. In your hands hang the small arrangements of myrtles that emancipate the birth of something else.

And he smiles at you, noticing.

Seventh Bouquet

Salvia; [forever mine]

It is the first time that he hugs you. In your shop.

"Are you going to close already?"

"Yes, I have to go do some things" your voice sounds sweeter to him at that moment. And, and really feel something, feel a force that calls you, that draws you to you like a magnet.

"... And you should go too, it seems like it's going to rain-"

"Y/N,"

You look at him, and your gaze connects with a softness in his that you would long for all your life. Your heart weighs on your chest, feeling the the air between you becomes closer and closer.

And it happens.

His big arms, workers join your figure and you feel warm. A warmth that runs from head to toe. A warmth that mixes with beautiful salvias that you gave him earlier.

“Let me drive you home”

“You are gonna get sick, Osamu”

He smiles at you and shakes his head.

“I never get sick”

Eight Bouquet 

Carnations; [I miss you]

He doesn’t listen to you, and he gets sick.

You feel lonely those five days that go by without him. His employees take care of the business as it should be, but it feels very lonely not to have it in the morning, making you breakfast -onigiri-. Or touching your hands after trying hard making bouquets. Or observing his eyes, which you love so much.

It feels sad, to tell the truth. Because, you would like to give him all your love in those five days you spend without him. You want to look for him and hug him again, you want to have him in your arms again.

You feel so alone, that you end up sending a bouquet of carnations to his address, with a little note.

"This happened to you for being a fool, fool"

The note responds when he returns the following week, with a smile.

"Did you miss me, silly?"

You did.

Ninth Bouquet

Daffodils; [new beginnings]

You were sitting next to him, watching a movie on a Sunday in November. One of his arms was covering your shoulders as he carefully brings you close to his chest. The Japanese dubbing of the film is as annoying as the fact that you are falling asleep because of how boring it is.

Osamu looks at you and raises an eyebrow; ignoring the fact that you are falling asleep, you stare at him taking your chin and guiding his face close to yours. Your sleeping eyes widen in amazement at his action and a crimson blush begins to color in your facial expression.

"Now you are paying attention" his hoarse voice was drawn in a curvilinear towards your lips; It was like a prayer heard by the gods. You feel the warmth of his mouth flood with yours, trembling hands caress his gray hair and he smiles in the middle of the kiss "You really are something else, Y/N"

"What?"

"My sweet daffodil, my new beginning"

His words sow a feeling of excitement and nervousness within you. You laugh softly when you notice that he has done a little research and you kiss his lips again with immense softness.

"I love you"

“I love you too, flower girl”

Needless to say, next morning, you gave him another bouquet. With smalls and refreshing daffodils.

Your new beginning, your Osamu.

Tenth Bouquet

Red rose; [pure true love]

His love for you is so great that he makes you a bouquet of flowers this time.

He took advantage of the fact that you were doing a workshop on how to make them, he came to your florist and began to observe how you dedicated yourself to creating the beautiful works of art and immortalizing it in the form of bouquets. He was always amazed at you. Your courage, your heart, everything. You were something else.

And now you were his something else.

When it was all over, it was obvious that you were very tired. He looked at the bouquet of roses he had made for you and then turned his gaze to your relaxed figure, who was lying on your sofa.

It was not easy to say “I love you”, but feeling it was much more difficult. However, saying “I love you” was like saying "good morning" for him when it came to you; it was a need he had. It was something he was enjoying at his best.

In the months that have passed since you opened your business, he has only received by your part obvious messages of love in the form of flowers. And it's time for him to return them to you.

"Oi, Y / N"

"Osamu?"

"I love you"

Your eyes meet his as he extends the bouquet to you. A beautiful smile forms on your lips as you take it and smell it fondly.

His lips bristle at your skin when you feel the contact against your cheek. It's too much, and you love the fact that it's too much.

"I love you too, Osamu"

He smiles before taking your face with his hands and kissing your lips properly.

"Thank you for all the bouquets, my flower."

｡･:*˚:✧｡ C h e e s e  c u l t : @akaashichigo @drainedjaz @haikkeiji @annalyn-annalyn @mlkytobio @sosugasweet @cali-writes-sometimes @simping4ratsumu @shishinoya @ushiwakaa @from-left-to-write @akaashit-baeji  @kxgeyamasmilk @agaassi @hanibuni @cupofkenma  @kawanisshi @milkandc00kiez  @thiccbokuto @shinsukestan @sufiawrites @wakaitoshi @skyguy-peach @fern-writes-ig @briswriting @kawaiikraykray @miyuswriting @raevaioli @ouikarwa @hakueishirei​ @pineapplekween​ @estherwritess​ @keiji-n​ @achoohq​ @badlywritten-hq​ @mochibeaa​ @oinkanna​ @chxrry-wxne​ @spudicide​ @airybby​ @asranomical​ @karmasuna​

｡･:*˚:✧｡ G e n e r a l  m a s t e r l i s t: @trashys-things​ @softforshigi​ @groundzeroagency​ @edensxgarden​ @pm4gal​  @yams046​ @thatfanfictionwriter

[faulty-writes]

Hey you awesome humanoid you... Can I request a Shoto x reader, where the USJ incident happens and the reader, having a better understanding of her quirk and able to use it quite well due to her family ties with some Pro hero she helps Aizawa fight, and when Shoto finds out and sees her getting injured while trying to protect Aizawa he gets really emotional and decides to confess his feelings when he visits at the hospital. Thank you! 💖

[ Just so you know. I somewhat forgot about the details of the USJ incident and I’m too lazy to rewatch the episode so everything I know about it is coming straight from my memory with some added thoughts of my own. ] 

You hadn’t imagined this happening, it was supposed to be a simple training exercise. When that dark vortex appeared, it was almost as if the warmth inside the USJ disappeared. Replaced by a cold chill as those villains walked in. You were more than certain your fellow students had thought the same thing as you. That this was simply part of the training exercise, but Aizawa quickly told you otherwise.

It was almost memorizing to see how Aizawa fought, proving without a doubt that he was a true Pro Hero. However, you along with your fellow classmates couldn’t just standby and watch as your teacher fought to protect you. After all, you were heroes in training and your teacher was trying to take on the various villains by himself. However, as soon as you made the decision to jump in, you and your classmates were all scattered to various training areas of the USJ. You had landed in the water along with Tsuyu, Midoriya, and Mineta.

Tsuyu seemed to have the most level head while Mineta was freaking out and Midoriya was...being Midoriya. Mumbling to himself as he tried to think of a solution. However, your eyes were more focused on the land which you could see clearly from your position on the boat. Tsuyu had decided it was safer than being in the water, but it also made you sitting ducks. “Guys, I think we need to go back to Aizawa,” you explained before looking down at your hands, you had a strong quirk. Given you came from a long line of Pro Heroes and most of them helped you train when you had decided to enter U.A. so it was no doubt that you had enough confidence to take on the villains.

You stepped onto the railing of the boat before feeling someone grab your wrist, “Hm?” you turned, looking down at Mineta who seemed to be having a panic attack. “D-Don’t go! Y/n! You’re gonna get creamed by those villains!” you narrowed your eyes at him, “Aizawa is getting creamed right now and if we don’t help, it might mean the end of our teacher.” you explained and looked to Tsuyu and Midoriya. “Ribbit, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Y/n. Aizawa told us to stay out of it.” you couldn’t help the soft growl that came from your throat.

“Sorry, but I don’t follow rules that well. Feel free to join me, if you dare.” you looked at your fellow classmates before smirking and jumping off the side. The villains who still floated in the water were taken care of thanks to Mineta’s quirk and you were quick to avoid his ‘sticky balls’ as he liked to call them and climbed onto the shore. “Mr.Aizawa!” you called, quickly catching the attention of the villains that surrounded him. One of them even chuckled, “Oh, a little student coming to help Eraser, how sad.” you growled and snapped your fingers, a wave of what appeared to be energy came and knocked them back.

You watched in satisfaction as the rest of the villains gasped, clearly surprised at how well you could control your quirk. Aizawa however was glaring at you, his hair still up and his hand clenching his injured elbow. “Y/n.” he growled and you frowned, “Don’t tell me not to help,” you responded before a villain charged at you, their scream filling the air as they swung their fist at you. But you were quick enough to dodge and much like the last villain, you sent them flying. In the distance, you could see ice forming on the ground and could only assume it was from Todoroki.

You knew from experience he was one of the more powerful quirk users in your class, though he was quiet. When he did speak, his words were honest and true. You knew he was the son of the number two hero Endeavor, but you never held that against him. Todoroki was a mystery to most people, though he had feelings for you. Of course, you had failed to notice this. But you could feel his stare on you during class and training, you tried to push it off as nothing. Just believing it was your imagination.

“Hey, hey now Eraser. I thought you’d do better than to make a child fight in your place.” a scratchy voice sounded and you turned your head, your eyes widening when you saw him. He appeared to be the leader of this attack, dressed from head to toe in black. Apart from his shoes which were red in color. He had silver shoulder-length hair but the thing that made a shiver run down your spine was the fact that he had several hands on his person. Including one that hid his face.

Either way, you swallowed down your fear and spoke, “A hero always helps someone who is injured!” you snapped before charging at him, however, he chuckled at your heroic attempt and snapped his fingers. You stumbled over your own feet as a horrid screech filled the air, you winced and covered your ears which you swore were bleeding by the time the noise ended. “Heh, you like my Nomu?” the villain questioned and your eyes widened when you saw the monstrosity next to him.

It was some kind of strange creature, bulky and intimidating and it looked like its brain was exposed. It had sharp jagged teeth and a strange-looking muzzle. You swallowed, staring at it in awe. “W-What the hell is that thing!?” you questioned before it let out another shriek and you once more covered your ears. A loud ringing sounded before you dropped your hands and got into a fighting stance. You didn’t know what this creature was but damned if you’d let it do any more harm.

Nomu stretched its arms out before charging and for a moment, you believed it was going after you. Yet, it jumped clear over you causing you to turn on your feet. “What the hell!?” you snapped before realizing what it was doing. “Eraserhead!” you screamed before using your quirk to propel yourself forward, Aizawa’s eyes went wide and though he was in no condition to fight. He was more than determined to try, as any Pro Hero would.

But you couldn’t let that happen and before you registered your own actions, you had pushed your teacher out of the way. You heard him hit the ground before Nomu’s large hand wrapped around your waist. You gasped and immediately latched onto the creature’s hand, kicking your legs in an attempt to get free. Your quirk surrounded you, but it didn’t seem to affect Nomu and you felt its grip tighten around you. Your jaw clenched and you narrowed your eyes on the creature, angry that you couldn’t break free.

“Y/n!” you heard someone call and turned your head, hearing the cracking of ice before the creature gave another cry. A small dribble of blood seeped down from your ears, but you ignored it and looked down to see its feet had been frozen to the ground, you didn’t need to say who was responsible for that. Todoroki stood a few feet from the creature, his arm covered in a thin layer of ice and his eyes looked menacing. “Put her down.” he threatened with a hiss, damned if he’d let the person he loved get hurt.  

Nomu didn’t seem to take well to the command and you hissed softly as you felt its nails dig into your skin, though not enough to pierce through. Its head was turned to face Todoroki and for a moment, you thought that the creature would actually listen. But you were proved wrong when it let out another cry and lifted one leg, easily breaking Todoroki’s ice. The boy’s eyes widened as he watched the ice shards scatter, “What the?!” before he could say anything more, you let out a scream as Nomu brought you to its mouth. Your heart dropped into your stomach when you saw those sharp teeth and you let out a scream as they sunk into your shoulder, immediately piercing the skin and your warm blood began to soak through your shirt.

You hardly had time to react before Nomu suddenly retracted its teeth, causing you to cry out yet again. “Stop!” Todoroki’s shout came, his palm facing out as he shot ice at the Nomu’s arm. Watching as it crept over its skin but Nomu seemed to protest and before you could register or predict its actions. You found yourself being lifted into the air. Your nails dug into the creature's wrist and you looked at Todoroki before the world blurred around you. The Nomu threw you with such force, it felt like the wind was knocked out of you. “Y/N!” you heard Todoroki call, but there was very little he could do at the moment.

You assumed that you were thrown back in the direction of the water as you saw a blurred pink object try and catch you. Tsuyu must have tried using her tongue, but at the speed, you were going. It was easy to miss, you screamed out when you felt the impact of the water. Pain shot down your spine causing precious air bubbles to escape as any further noises were quickly silenced by the gentle hum of the water. Though your shoulder was still bleeding, which caused the water to turn dark around you. Your hand reached out, you could still see the sun shining on the surface. But there was no way you could swim up to it, not in your condition and lack of air made your lungs begin to burn.

You pressed your lips together, feeling how they quivered as your vision grew dark. “Todoroki…” was the final word you spoke, the last of your air bubbles floating in front of you before everything turned black. Of course, the fight outside the water still continued. The fellow Pro Heroes showed up, effectively stopping Shigaraki’s attack. But Todoroki wasn’t satisfied, despite Class 1-A having been instructed to return to the entrance. He had made the choice to try and go after you, only to be stopped by Cementoss. “You don’t understand! Y/n! They fell into the water, they’re injured! I have to save them before-” he had tried to run only to be blocked by another cement wall.

“We’ll take care of it. Return to the entrance with your classmates.” Cementoss instructed and Todoroki clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists. “You’re just going to give me instructions like that!? I don’t see any of you going after her!” he snapped, though the Pro Hero seemed rather unphased by Todoroki’s anger. In fact, his eyes were more focused on Denki as he came running toward them. Laying his hand on Todoroki’s shoulder, “Hey, come on man. They said to-” Todoroki growled and shrugged Denki’s hand off, causing the blond to grow confused. Though that wasn’t a hard task, “Don’t touch me.” Todoroki hissed as he brushed past Denki. “Gees what’s up with him?” the still confused boy questioned if only he knew how Todoroki was feeling at the moment.

He had tried to save you, but he failed, or rather, he was being told to back off by the fellow Pro Heroes. What the hell did they even know? This was ridiculous, a deep growl escaped him. Was this his fault? He wasn’t sure, but he knew one thing. His chest felt heavy and his heart sank. He had never felt this way before. Not about anything or anyone. Before he had entered U.A. he had a clear goal, to become a hero. Though unlike the kind of hero his father wanted him to be. Yet, when you came into his life. When he set his eyes upon you, something in him switched.

His life slowly became about you, thoughts of you, dreams he wanted to share with you, and possibly even a future. But now, he was forced to leave your life in the hands of Pro Heroes who weren’t acting quick enough. Even if they got to you on time, it was highly likely that you would be sent to the hospital and if you were. Then Todoroki had decided, he would finally tell you how he felt. He needed to, else it would drive him mad and continue to distract him. Maybe it was selfish, putting his own needs ahead of yours. Especially when you were injured, but part of him didn’t care and part of him was afraid of what you’d say.

The days that passed seemed sluggish and an awkward tension was in the air. U.A. itself seemed to be on thin ice and there were talks about students getting transferred to a safer, more kept hero school. Todoroki however, didn’t pay much attention to the rumors or anything for that matter. The only thing he cared about was you and though he had visited the hospital the day after the incident, he was turned away because the doctors claimed you weren’t in a stable enough condition to see anyone. It angered him some, but at least it gave him time to think of how he could possibly go about telling you how he felt.

He could just blurt it out, but that wasn’t like him. He was honest and whenever he did happen to speak, it was always with purpose. He didn’t like wasting his words. He debated inside his head for the next few days, eventually settling on the idea that whatever happens happens. Still, he couldn’t help but nervously twiddle his thumbs as he sat in the waiting room of the hospital. One of the nurses was going to instruct him when he could see you, apparently, you were getting a check-up at the moment. He sat there with his head hanging low. Just replaying the moment that damned Nomu sank its teeth into your shoulder. He should have done more, yet at the same time, he knew it wasn’t worth worrying over.

The past was the past, what was done was done. He couldn’t change it, but hopefully what he was about to do would make it better. “Todoroki.” he heard his name and snapped out of his thoughts, turning his head to look at the nurse. “You can visit your friend now, but remember she’s still recovering. So no excitement.” Todoroki rose to his feet, nodding. The nurse smiled before motioning him to follow which he did without hesitation. It seemed rather quiet in the hallway, apart from the few doctors and patients that were being rolled to God knows where. He stopped short when the nurse came to a door at the end of the hallway. “Here we are.” they said, “Remember the rules.” Todoroki nodded once more, “I will, thank you very much.” he said before bowing which for some odd reason caused the nurse to giggle before they walked away.

Todoroki leaned back up and looked at the door, a certain warmth filling his chest and he felt his stomach twist with what could only be described as butterflies. He took a deep breath, hoping to settle down his nerves before he gently knocked on the door. “Y/n! It’s Shoto Todoroki,” he said, though it might be awkward to announce yourself like that. He was raised with manners, much to the amazement of being Endeavor’s son. He paused a moment before sliding the door open. His eyes settled on you, though you looked fine for the most part. A few bandages were scattered on your face and neck. But he could see even with the hospital gown that your shoulder was wrapped up and he assumed you had gotten stitches.

“Todoroki,” you said with a smile, though you were a little surprised to see him of all people. You didn’t think he would be that concerned about you, but he was the only one that saw what happened. So maybe he just wanted to make sure you were okay. “Hello,” he said before walking over and pulling up a chair, you hissed at the sound the metal legs made as they scraped across the floor. Somehow it reminded you too much of the noise Nomu made, why did it shriek so damn much? You just hoped you wouldn’t run into it again anytime soon. When Todoroki finally settled down in the chair, he looked at you. Somehow those eyes always made you feel strange yet there was an odd warmth to them.

“How are you?” he questioned and you couldn’t help but chuckle, before reaching up to brush a piece of your hair back. “A bit sore, I can’t use my shoulder for about two or so weeks. At least that’s what the doctor said but um,” you paused and latched onto your bottom lip. “I was actually hoping to see you, I mean I didn’t think you’d come here. But, I just wanted to say thank you. For saving me, you were pretty brave to face up to that thing. Hell, you even yelled at it.” it was kind of funny to think about now. But Todoroki didn’t seem to be smiling, in fact, he looked as serious as ever. “I have something to tell you as well.” he replied, “Huh?” you looked at him with a confused expression. “What do you mean?” you questioned, what could he possibly have to tell you?

You watched him shift in his seat, his eyebrows cross and his hands looked to be clenching one another. You wondered if he was alright or if this was bad news. It was strange to see him like this, more so uncharacteristic. “Are you alright?” you questioned and Todoroki nodded in response. “Y/n I…” he trailed off and that’s when you noticed the slight quiver of his lip. However, you failed to take into account the way his eyes traced your face, settling on your mouth. “I…” he tried again before letting out a frustrated growl and rose from his seat. The action causing the chair to tumble back and hit the floor with a loud bang. You jumped in your bed. “Todoroki!” you snapped, perhaps you were a bit on end because of what you had been through. But somehow every loud noise you heard began to scare you, maybe it was an aftereffect of Nomu's screeching. You weren’t sure and you weren’t about to admit you were afraid of loud noises.

However, Todoroki seemed unphased and simply leaned down, his hands reaching to gently grab your face and tilt it up. He leaned close and you could feel his nose press against yours and the heat of his breath. “Todoroki…” you whispered before feeling the ghost touch of his lips against yours. “Forgive me, I don’t know any other way to express myself but directly.” you were about to ask what he meant when his lips pressed against yours in a selfish kiss. Your eyes widened, Todoroki was kissing you? Your hands remained by your sides, simply too shocked to move. The kiss lasted only a few moments, but the ticking of the clock made it seem otherwise. 

You took a shaky breath when Todoroki finally pulled away and you noticed that soft flush across his face. “Todoro-” he interrupted you as he stumbled back, “I…I apologize.” he stuttered out before turning on his feet, quickly exiting the room. “W-Wait!” you called out, your hand extended out to him but he was already gone. You heard his frantic steps running down the hallway. You blinked and lowered your hand, what was that about? You looked down at your lap before pulling your legs up and wrapping your arms around them. “Mm…” you could feel the heat continue to radiate from your cheeks and the fact that your heart was racing inside your chest left very little explanation.

After all of this, did Todoroki have feelings for you or was he feeling guilty over what had happened? Frankly, you were left confused by the sudden kiss and run. “How am I going to face him in school now?” though part of you wanted answers, you knew you couldn’t go anywhere without the doctor’s okay. Yet, you knew once you were healed. You’d go straight to Todoroki and demand an answer.

[victorsandvanquishers]

Mughal-e-Azam for Antimagic Demon and Asta for the Bollywood film edition....

Asta x Liebe Nation, I come bearing the good fruit. Thank you for requesting, Anon, please enjoy. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

~~

It was the irony of all ironies – Asta's friends knew he was in love before he did.

Gordon noticed first, because Gordon was the most observant of the group. Asta was unlike anyone he'd ever met, so the young man didn't possess the sweaty palms, furrowed eyebrows, and fleeting glances that would plague the usual sort. Asta was different. More than that, Asta's deepest thoughts were just underneath the surface, hidden beneath veils of booming laughter and rippling muscles, a subtle hint in a sea of smiles. That alone gave Gordon grounds to investigate.

The stiff spine was the most surprising, and at first, Gordon had assumed poor Asta was just constipated. He'd debated getting his friend some herbal medicine so that he could rest easy. Gordon didn't want him to end up like Captain Yami, perpetually in the restroom, perpetually whining about the woes of tummy trouble.

He changed his mind when he realized Asta only stiffened when their new friend was out of his grimoire. It was their new friend with the glistening black skin and powdery white face. Liebe also had the most magnificent horns, horns which he'd begrudgingly let everyone in the base touch and pat because Nero's were too small and because she didn't quite like the touchy-feely stuff.

Liebe, however, seemed to enjoy it much more than he let on, and so they indulged him accordingly.

Charmy threw him a feast on the night of his official arrival to the base because it was the first happy evening they'd seen in weeks. Their captain had been rescued, Henry had built Nacht a room of his own, and Asta had a new friend.

It was a grand affair. Charmy made her best dishes, Vanessa opened her most treasured wines, and Zora's party tricks brought life back into everyone's eyes, even if Captain Yami ended up sitting on a stinkbug.

Liebe sat quietly for most of the party, but that was to be expected. Gordon was a great listener, so he'd noted every detail of the stories Asta had proudly told him about his demon friend. Asta had regaled him of the stories of his and Liebe's binding ritual on their journey back from Spade. Asta had called it friendship-binding. Gordon liked friendship. He thought it the most important and exhilarating thing to exist in their world.

He didn't forget the twinkle in Asta's eyes when he'd gushed about shaking hands with his new friend, the demon in the grimoire. Gordon didn't think he'd ever seen Asta so happy before.

That same fondness seemed to translate into Liebe's eyes, even if he was mostly silent. He looked to be the brooding type, a little like Gauche, but not an isolationist like Nacht, and though somewhat acerbic like Noelle, not nearly acerbic enough to offend anyone. Their new friend seemed to be in that happy middle amongst the three, quiet but present, as if reflective of every moment passing before his eyes.

If anything, it seemed to Gordon that Liebe just preferred to sit quietly. That was fine with him, as Gordon could see the warmth and affection in his eyes became stronger with their revelry. Liebe could remain in that brooding middle, the one where he blushed furiously when they patted his horns, but still grumbled beneath his breath about clingy humans. Gordon could accept that.

Liebe laughed for the first time when Magna slipped on Luck's chocolate wrapper, went tumbling into Noelle, who screeched and blasted Magna with a wave of water that eventually planted Magna against the wall, soaking wet and dazed. Gordon almost missed the new sound, what with the raucous laughter and Magna slightly concussed, but Liebe's laugh was different. It was a loud, scratchy thing, perhaps even a little shrill, but so full of life and love that Gordon balked in his seat, his hat lying limp in his hands.

Nobody else seemed to notice, but Gordon did.

And so did Asta.

Asta had stiffened when Liebe began to laugh.

Asta only stiffened when Liebe's attention was turned towards something else, eyes focused elsewhere, his back to Asta, black wings and black skin glittering like diamonds in the night while Asta stood motionless, in awe.

Asta had stiffened when Liebe began to laugh.

And that's how Gordon realized that his young friend was in love.

*

Vanessa noticed because she'd spent ten years giving Yami the same look, and got nothing in return.

It took her a little bit longer than Gordon, but she caught on. A month after they'd brought Yami home, Vanessa was in charge of leading some squad members on a clean-up mission on the border of Heart. It was a simple job, and one that would see them all home by nightfall. Vanessa wrote down the plan because she was still learning how to lead on her feet, and until she could call out orders at the drop of her magnificent hat, she would continue to use the little notebook Finral had gotten her when she'd become the team's interim captain.

She was reading over her notes when she realized that Asta was staring. Not at her, of course, but at the demon flying about, helping to direct the other squad members to where the lumber, stone, and tools would need to go as they worked to rebuild the little town that had lost to a mana storm. Vanessa had glanced up by chance, Rouge purring on her shoulder, and yet her eyes landed on Asta, as if it were fate.

She wondered why someone so kind and selfless had to suffer this particular kind of pain. She'd been suppressing her own for a decade now, camouflaging it with her alcoholism, and sometimes her trips to the brothel where the men were all the same, and she could pretend for the night that she was loved and wanted by the one she desired the most.

She wondered why Asta had to suffer the same pain. She tilted her head up and gazed at the astonishing black creature fluttering its great wings against the pale blue sky. Liebe was unlike any monster she'd ever seen before, and Vanessa had seen quite a few in her lifetime.

She wanted to ask, wanted to know – why him? Why not Noelle? Why not Yuno?

She didn't have to ask though. A moment later, Liebe swooped down with a powerful gust of wind that blew her great hat off her head and into the daisies at her feet. She didn't bother with her hat or her rich hair that had ended up in front of her face. She simply kept her attention on the two people some yards away, a human and a demon, bound together for life.

Liebe gave Asta a handful of stargazer lilies.

And Vanessa understood.

*

Love was soft; love was slow. Yami knew that much, even if he'd never personally experienced it.

The shrimp was good at hiding it. He'd been loud and boisterous when he'd lost the feeling in his arms, but he'd never faltered from his goal, not once. Lives had been at stake, and failure simply hadn't been an option. The love of one's self was one thing, but loving another – Yami didn't know if Asta had ever truly experienced that before now.

The runt didn't shy away from much, but when Yami found him considering a handful of stargazer lilies in the light of a single lamp in their empty kitchen in the middle of the night, Yami knew it was serious. He'd only ever seen few meditate on an object this critically before, and he never thought Asta would be a part of that small cohort.

And yet, there was the resident shrimp, placidly plucking at the pink and white petals, thinking things when there shouldn't have been anything but hot air in that head of his.

Any other day, Yami would have teased the boy and threatened him to spill, only because Yami was a nosy bastard deep down, but not tonight. Tonight, he simply tip-toed away, leaving the runt to his thoughts.

Love was a process, after all.

*

Liebe was a person. He wasn't a project Asta could work on, or a goal Asta could work towards. Liebe was a person, even if he was a demon with horns and pointy teeth, so Asta couldn't charge forward without a plan.

Noelle figured it out when one night, Liebe was too tired to take his meal with the rest of them, and had to eat where he slept – in the bed above Asta's.

Henry had fashioned the bunk beds for them when Asta had proudly showed off the bracelet on his hand, that which linked him to the demon for life. Noelle had looked on with barely contained glee in her eyes because Liebe had been cute, almost like a little animal friend who only looked dangerous, but was actually very sweet.

She hadn't been wrong – Liebe was sweet. Liebe was kind. Liebe worked just as hard as Asta, even if he grumbled, grunted, and groused along the way. Liebe was quiet, but he wasn't stupid. He spoke when it was necessary, not when it was convenient, and he kept his thoughts to himself.

Noelle could never hide her feelings, much less her thoughts. She envied the demon. She envied his poise, his reservedness, and the aura of mystery that seemed to surround him at all times.

One could argue that she shouldn't have felt this way, since Nero was the same.

But Nero did not look to Asta with the kind of affection Noelle harbored for him. Nero loved Asta much like a mother loved her child, or perhaps how a bird loved its chick. Noelle loved Asta like how Vanessa loved Yami, but Noelle failed where Vanessa was scathingly efficient. Vanessa could hide anything behind her drunken smile and glassy eyes, whereas Noelle could barely hide her blush, much less her affections.

Liebe walked with his lips sealed and his heart locked away, and all Noelle witnessed was one creature pining after the other. Liebe was better at it, of course. Liebe was quiet; he was strong. He was strong in the way pillars were strong, sturdy and imposing. He barely spoke about his past, much less about his feelings, and yet his gaze seemed to perpetually linger on Asta, and when it wasn't, it'd harden with the kind of aloofness that Noelle both loved and loathed.

Asta was loud, but he was hesitant, an edge of stiffness haunting his every step because perhaps forever was a bit too long. She thought it was doubt at first, but then she'd started noticing the shifts in his smile, the way he'd stiffen when Liebe touched his arm to instruct him to calm down, when his eyes lingered on Liebe's back, his wings, the band around the demon's wrist that promised that they'd be together forever.

Noelle figured it out one rainy night after a long battle, too few brooms to bring them all home without getting wet in the storm, Finral passed out in Zora's arms after exhausting all of his magic, and Henry back at the base. Yami, Magna, and Secre had all walked with the rest in solidarity, because what were friends for, anyway? When they got home, Charmy whipped up a large pot of stew, rice, roast beef, and eggs in under two minutes. Finral snapped awake with the smell of roasting meat.

Liebe was too exhausted from the battle, so Asta had carried him back to the base on his back, and when they'd gotten home, tucked Liebe into the upper bunk that belonged to him.

Later, when Charmy went to make a plate to send up to their comrade via one of the many sheep bustling about, Asta gently shook his head and took the plate from her. Noelle watched him heap piles of rice, eggs, and beef onto separate plates, before pouring stew into porcelain bowls, and grabbing two jugs of water. He made his way up the stairs to his and Liebe's room without spilling or dropping a single thing.

Noelle didn't need to know what happened afterwards, because it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Noelle and the rest of the Black Bulls ate their dinner at the long table, while Asta dined with his beloved upstairs.

*

Love wasn't always loud and all-encompassing, Zora had learned. Sometimes, it was subtle, like the feelings the Wizard King had, had for his father, feelings he'd only come to learn about after snooping around the King's private rooms while he was busy being chased by the mushroom man. Sometimes, it was toxic, like the poison that was slowly killing the witch from the inside out. Oftentimes, it was unrequited, like the birdwoman's.

And sometimes, it was fated.

Zora knew Asta had made the contract out of duty to his kingdom, to his squad. Any other man would have seen a demon-binding ritual as a sacrifice of one's best years, and of their autonomy.

But not Asta.

Duty-bound he may have been, but even duty could create bonds. Asta had created a bond of friendship, and friends they'd been, until that friendship became something more.

Zora saw it much like a book, one that moved slowly but surely, saw each moment like it was a chapter, and every chapter led up to the inevitable conclusion – the one where the human and demon fell in love.

Zora had seen and learned about enough bad endings in his life to know that love was the greatest prank of them all. His love for his father hadn't saved him from being betrayed and murdered by his own squadmates. Love hadn't saved Noelle's mother from dying from Megicula's curse. Love hadn't saved the first Wizard King from turning to dust in front of the sobbing birdwoman.

At first, he'd assumed that love wouldn't do anything for the human and the demon who seemed to fit together like two sides of the same coin. He even suspected that they'd eventually fight again for dominance, because who would want to be forced into a union with another forever?

But this wasn't one of those endings – not when Zora started reading the footnotes, not when he started connecting the dots.

Asta and Liebe weren't like the Wizard King, a fool in gold and velvet, a coward who couldn't tell a peasant that he was in love with him, a coward who couldn't protect his beloved or look after his beloved's orphaned child. Asta and Liebe weren't cowards. If anything, Zora thought they were heroes.

It happened a year after they'd brought Yami Sukehiro home. They'd just finished rescuing a noblewoman from an actual, fire-breathing dragon who also turned out to be her shape-shifting lover, so then the Black Bulls had to rescue the noblewoman and her lady dragon lover from the real enemy, which turned out to be high taxes and anti-dragon sentiment, which then led the Black Bulls to smuggle the pair out of Clover before Damnatio and his lackeys found out.

It was all in a day's work, and they'd just gathered around the bonfire to eat Charmy's roasted pigeons when Zora saw that Asta was gripping Liebe's hand in his own, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, like their hands were born to be linked together, forever.

Zora would have thought he was thinking too deeply into matters if he hadn't caught them kissing some hours later. Arm in arm underneath the moonlight, Asta's arms were wrapped protectively around the lanky demon whose claws were tangled in Asta's ash grey hair. It wasn't the kind of kiss you witnessed on the street between shy teenagers learning to love, or grizzled elders who were beyond public displays of affection.

It was the middle of the night, and Zora had simply walked outside to take a stroll in the cool air before turning in for the night. He hadn't expected to find a runt and a demon passionately kissing beneath the moonlight like they'd just survived a war.

Zora smirked. Perhaps the past year was a war in it of itself, a series of battles that culminated with a woman and her dragon, and an escape into Heart where Undine and the Queen accepted creatures of all kinds.

Perhaps the war was finally over, and Asta and Liebe were finally happy.

*

“You did what?” Charmy hissed.

“I maaaaaaaaaade theeeeem oooooooone biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed,” Henry said pleasantly.

“But they're still falling in love! We can't push love!! It has to go slowly, naturally!!!”

“Buuuuuut IIIIIIII saaaaaaaaaaw theeeeeem kiiiiiiiiissiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing laaaaaaast niiiiiiiiiiiight!”

“Kissing doesn't automatically mean relations, Henry you bastard,” Yami added, as scandalized as Charmy.

“Kiiiiiiissiiiiiiiiiiing iiiiiiiiis theeeeee fiiiiiiiiiiirst steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep,” Henry retorted with a bright smile.

“At least neither of them can get pregnant,” Vanessa sighed with relief.

“...... Do we know that for sure?” Gauche asked finally.

The Black Bulls sans Asta and Liebe turned to Gauche with narrowed eyes, and said in unison, “huh?”

“Do we know for sure that demons can't get pregnant?” Gauche snapped, averting his eyes and trying to stifle his growing blush.

“... oh my god,” Charmy wheezed.

“HENRY!” They all screeched.

*

“I love you,” Asta whispered softly into Liebe's skin, leaving kisses down his pale neck, his hands locked with Liebe's.

“I love you too,” and Liebe meant it.

*

[cats-obsessions]

The Survey Never Lies

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Modern au, something fluffy

Read on ao3

Summary:

Jaskier convinces Geralt to try Speed dating. The results are not what either of them expected.

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

Geralt isn’t exactly sure what possessed him to agree to this. It’d been a rough past few months, with contracts being few and far between, and when they came, they were truly the worst. To say that this dry spell had extended to other areas in his life was an understatement; even Yennefer was able to move on by now after their latest, seemingly permanent, breakup. ‘Move on’ might be an understatement- enough time had passed for Yennefer to go into full-blown party mode, get over it, begin a new and honestly adorable relationship with their mutual friend Triss, and make up with him to the point of being hostile friends again.

That is to say, it has been a long time.

With next to no money and even less company, even Geralt could admit he has been feeling down. And yet, of course, Jaskier was always there right beside him through it all. It was always that way. Which is precisely why he got himself into this mess.

Initially, when the troubadour had suggested they try speed dating, Geralt was quick to strike the idea down. He’d already gone through the pains of using that awful dating app at Jaskier’s insistence, and he wasn’t about to have a rerun of that disaster. But then, Jaskier started to frame it as if he was the one that needed a date, and Geralt accompanying him would just be a favor- just to keep him company if it was boring, and to keep him safe if things went wrong. Geralt knows that was just a ploy to make him go, but between that and big blue puppy dog eyes, he found himself reluctantly agreeing.

Jaskier did not, however, tell him how horrible it would be. ‘it won’t take long’. Bullshit. Over an hour of small talk with strangers, and Geralt feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin. The establishment isn’t the finest, either. Everything is cheap- 90s music playing on shitty speakers grate on his eardrums, dimmed florescent lighting and fake candles on every table make it feel morel like a pizza parlor than a romantic dinner. And then there’s the people.

They’ve been paired into groups based on some benign personality survey they were forced to take when they got there, then paired off for short conversations. Five-minute sessions are timed on a buzzer, each blessed ring marking the end of the conversation, and bringing with it another stranger. They’re awkward at best and insufferable at worst.

It’s Geralt’s personal nightmare incarnate.

The best conversation he’s had all night was about one woman’s five cats. The worst was probably when a man tried to lean across the table and grab at his medallion without asking and Geralt found himself releasing an inhuman snarl before he could stop himself. The poor guy ended up hiding in the bathroom for the remaining duration of their five minutes, but that’s what he gets for trying to touch people, especially a witcher, without asking.

Even the cheap beer doesn’t make it better. When the timer dings, and all the participants in the room begin to shuffle to new tables, Geralt takes a moment to look down at his glass, taking a long, long sip of tasteless beer. By the time he has glanced up again, Jaskier is seating himself across the table, wine glass in hand. The bard flashes him a toothy grin, leaning in closer, propping his elbows on the scratchy, off-white tablecloth. As per usual, his button down shirt is left undone far too low, exposing a far too distracting patch of chest hair that Geralt most certainly doesn’t stare at, nor do his eyes slowly trace up exposed skin of his collar bones and neck to the slight blush tinging his cheeks.  

“So, how’s it going, my friend? Found the new Mrs. Rivia, or Mr., though, I suppose it’s not guaranteed he’d take your last name. Not that it’s guaranteed with a woman, either. You could take her name. Though, I do like yours- better than my own, actually.”

Geralt glances away, trying his best to hide his smirk at Jaskier’s prattling, “Hm.”

“Oh, come on now, use your words. We’ve talked about this. You’re not going to find someone when I’m the only person that understands your unintelligible grunting.” Jaskier chides, though it is true. Somehow, over the years since they met in that shitty bar in Pasoda, Jaskier has come to understand the witcher well- better than most. Where other humans shy away from him, Jaskier became stuck to him, following him on hunts and writing songs about their adventures- reluctant at first, he’s now thankful for the bard.

Geralt sighs “This is hopeless, Jaskier.”

“No, it’s not!”

“It is. They’re all- ugh, I don’t know.” Geralt rubs his hand over his face, “They’re all either freaked out by me or oblivious to what I am, and they just talk about their normal lives and normal jobs and- and how Geofry from accounting fucked things up again, while I’m sitting here thinking last week I was swallowed by a fuckin’ kikimora. I don’t fit in here.”

“That was horridly disgusting, but lots of people are into adventurous men. What about Eveline? She seemed amenable.” Jaskier gestures to the woman a few tables down with long red hair. Yes, she had found Geralt attractive, in dim lighting which hides his scars and expands his pupils into circles rather than slits, but that doesn’t translate to companionship, or even a night of fun. Yet, Jaskier is always the optimist, “There’s still hope yet!”

Geralt shakes his head “Easy for you to say. You don’t need to go speed dating to find someone. Everyone likes you.”

“As flattering as that is, I think, there’s nothing wrong with speed dating. Anyone who isn't interested in you is a fool. Besides, it's not always that easy for me! I’m looking for something a bit more committed this time. Not that I didn’t have great affections for my previous romances. Just…” Jaskier trails off, tongue sticking out slightly as he looks for the right terms.

“Momentarily and in measured amounts?”

“Mm,” Jaskier hums in agreement.

“Infatuation has to wear off some time.”

“So I’ve been told. Seems some hang around longer than others though,” He mutters. He casts his eyes down as if in thought, his ever-moving hands finding the rim of his wine glass, a long finger tracing it in a way that emits a high-pitched noise the musician likely isn’t even aware of. Geralt grunts, frowning slightly as he grabs Jaskier’s hand to remove it from the glass. The bard lets himself be moved easily, fingers warm and inviting under the witcher’s touch.

“Noise,” he grumbles.

Jaskier smiles apologetically, “Ah, witcher hearing. Sorry, my dear.”

His fingers tap on the tabletop, looking for something to fidget with in the wine glass’ absence. He finds the long-abandoned conversation que cards so kindly provided by the event’s organizers, as if they knew rightfully well how miserably uncomfortable this predicament would be.

“Have you looked at these at all tonight?” he asks, picking them up to glance through them.

“Tried not to. They’re deplorable.” Yet, the well-worn corners of the cards attest to how many attendees truly rely on them.

Jaskier smiles coyly “You’ve been showing people pictures of your lovely lady Roach again haven’t you?”

“Maybe” he blushes, both of them chuckling. “People like horses”

“Mm, that would only be a good pick-up tactic if she didn’t bite strangers.”

“She’s shy.” He defends, though he knows she’s not. She’s just picky; she’s never tried to bite Geralt, or Eskel or Vesemir for that matter. These days, she likes Jaskier enough to let him ride her when they visit her stables at Vesemir’s farm.

Jaskier glances to the clock, red numbers counting down the seconds until he will be subjected to yet another stranger. “We still have a bit of time, want to try these dumb questions?”

“Is silence not an option?” Geralt groans, though not without the hint of a smile on his lips.

Jaskier swats at him lightly, ignoring the comment. He flips through the cards, reading a few under his breath “What color is your personality? That’s dumb- yours is blue, obviously, and mine is yellow. Hmm, Ah, here’s one.” Geralt tilts his head, waiting “Describe your best friend.”

He can’t help but snort at that “Annoying.”

“First of all, rude. Second of all, appropriate answers could have included handsome, funny, talented, brilliant, loyal” Jaskier counts his claimed attributes on his fingers, likely to go on forever lest Geralt interrupt.

“Reckless, frivolous-” He jumps in, a teasing, toothy grin on his face.

“Fun. Fun is the term you’re looking for. It doesn’t matter though. I know you adore me.”

There’s too much truth in the words; though he wouldn’t hesitate to call Jaskier his friend -his best friend- adoration is a strong word, a word unknown to many witchers. Yet, he can’t deny the way Jaskier makes his heart fill with warmth, makes him feel alive and safe like he never has before. But that is something he’d much rather keep to himself. Geralt looks away, surely blushing as he lets a curtain of white hair falls in front of his face, hopefully hiding the pink tinge.

Jaskier watches him quietly, that soft warm expression in his eyes that somehow seems to be reserved for the witcher. A moment of silence passes before he snaps out of it, only a few seconds left on the clock “Wanna get out of here?”

At that, Geralt perks up, “I could use a real drink, but what about your search?”

“I don’t think I’ll find the one in this crowd,” he says, looking out on the group, a disappointed little pout pulling at his lips for just a moment before he turns back to Geralt, ever bright smile returning to his face.

Geralt nods, standing up and slipping on his jacket in preparation to leave. He catches Jaskier’s eyes roaming over him for a moment before the bard diverts his gaze, catching his lip between his teeth. Geralt does his best to focus on anything else. Whatever warmth or fluttering feelings it may give him, he knows he’s just imagining his friend’s interest.

They almost make it out with everyone around them shuffling to new tables. But, of course, they’re stopped by the group coordinator. They’d met him when they came in- a young man far too invested in this program, reciting his company provided lines with an unnatural enthusiasm.

“Looks like you two are having a good time. I’m glad to see some real sparks fly tonight! Sneaking off already?” the man grins, a little too much, as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh, we were just-” Jaskier begins, laughing slightly under his breath.

“No, don’t tell me- for liability reasons and such. But good news!” he exclaims, “According to our survey, you two are our most compatible couple of the night, and the survey never lies!”

“Of course, we-” He’s cut off again, and next to him, Jaskier cringes.

“Which means, if you’re interested and it certainly seems like you are, you have won our luxury romance date package!”

“I think there’s been a mis- Sorry, what?” Geralt stops as the boy pushes a bright pink, sparkling gift card into his hand.

“$200.00 to the White Orchard, free drinks included and guaranteed reservations within the month. All you have to do is go together, have fun, and discover the romance of your lives!” The boy’s smile doesn’t falter as he continues to speak. “I’m legally obligated to tell you we have not run background checks on anyone.”

“But we’re-” Jaskier tries to speak, but not before Geralt can stop him.

“Excited!” Geralt grins, grabbing Jaskier’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Thank you!”

$200 is $200. He’s not about to let the first chance he’s had at a fine dinner in who knows how long go by because of Jaskier’s big mouth. So, with that, he leads the bard outside, their hands still firmly grasped together, and pointedly doesn’t think about why his thumb is rubbing circles into the back of his best friend’s hand. Nor does he consider how well their fingers fit together. He certainly doesn’t notice the disappointed pang in his chest when their hands separate as they step out into the cold night air outside.

One glance between them and their prize, and neither of them can stifle their laughter. “I can’t believe you almost said no to the nicest restaurant in town.” Geralt chides, elbowing Jaskier lightly as they begin to walk home.

“I can’t believe it either. It’s like the offer didn’t register in my brain yet.” Jaskier chuckles.

Geralt rolls his eyes at him “Seems to happen a lot.”

Jaskier deliberately ignores him, instead leaning over his shoulder to look at the gift card, still cradled in Geralt’s hand “It is ‘luxury romance’” Jaskier snickers, “We may have to keep up this act a bit longer.

“Apparently it’s not too difficult.” Geralt sneers “Some survey. Of course, we match; we spend all our time together.”

Jaskier’s chuckles quiet down, a silence hanging between them as he seems to think it over, “I have known you longer and more deeply than any other in my life. There’s no one I’m more comfortable with.”

“And I you.” He doesn’t often admit such things, but somehow in the silence of the night, with the way Jaskier had stated it so gently, he can’t help but know he truly means it when he agrees. After the silence becomes too heavy, Geralt clears his throat “Anyways, it’ll be fun.

“Yea, fun.”

Somehow, Jaskier’s voice comes out flat, preoccupied. When Geralt glances over at him, his lip is caught between his teeth again, his face scrunched in deep contemplation. It’s not a long walk back to their apartments, their complexes within walking distance of each other. Geralt doesn’t push, silence between them doesn't normally bother him after a night of so much noise. But try as he might, he can't help but wonder if Jaskier is bothered by the implication they were- could be a couple. Instead, he tries to focus on the sounds of the city, cool air blowing around them, leaves crinkling as they skip across the cement sidewalk.

When they approach Jaskier’s apartment complex, they stop in front of the old brick stairs leading inside, and Geralt waits for either an invitation inside or a declaration that Jaskier has changed his mind about drinks. He looks… uneasy. His hands are shoved into his pockets, and he shifts back and forth on his feet.

“Um, Geralt?” Jaskier says, voice uncertain for once.

“Hm?”

“I, um,” Geralt barely has time to see Jaskier stop biting his lip before suddenly his lips are on Geralt’s, his hands in his hair, caressing, not forceful. The witcher could pull away without much of a fuss, but he finds himself pulling Jaskier in by his waist, holding him tightly as if he’s afraid he’ll lose him if he lets go.

The kiss is equal parts gentle and desperate. He feels like he’s on fire; he feels like there’s electricity running through him, between them, and- and butterflies in his stomach, for maybe the first time in his life. It’s all so new and different, but he finds he doesn’t mind- not one bit.

When Jaskier pulls away, he finds his head feeling light “Jask,” he breathes lightly, their noses bumping each other lightly.

“Sorry, I-” Jaskier moves to step back, a spark of caution and panic glimmering in his eyes, as if he hadn’t felt Geralt’s desire in their embrace. “I thought-” he begins, but Geralt pulls him back in.

“I didn’t say stop.” He smiles softly, bringing up one hand to cup Jaskier’s cheek. It relaxes the bard, all the tension melting away to be replaced by a mischievous smile as the witcher pulls him into another kiss.

****

Rays of morning sun beam through the windows of Jaskier’s apartment, illuminating every inch of it. Below, the city is bustling with noise, but here, things are peaceful. Geralt woke up first, no surprise there. He would have been more than content to stay in bed all day, wrapped tightly in his lover’s embrace- the thought of that word describing Jaskier brings a smile to his face. But cursed with his witcher metabolism, he was dragged out of bed by a growling stomach.

Rummaging through Jaskier’s kitchen for breakfast, he barely notices the other man enter the room. When he turns around, Geralt is met with striking blue eyes watching him intently as Jaskier leans against the counter, dressed in his boxers and a hoodie he’d stollen from Geralt long, long ago. Geralt chooses not to dwell too much on the thought that he’s been sleeping in it all this time- for now, anyways.

“What are you so smug about?” Geralt grins, abandoning his task to invade Jaskier’s space.

The musician smiles, unabashedly staring as he runs his hands over Geralt’s exposed chest, settling above the hem of the sweat pants he snatched from Jaskier’s closet this morning, “Who wouldn’t be smug after getting a boyfriend as beautiful as you?” Even though they kissed all through the night, Jaskier’s lips on his send a shiver down his spine.

“You know what they say.” Geralt murmurs, kissing his way down to Jaskier’s neck.

As he presses dark marks into the pale skin of his throat, Jaskier only breathlessly hums in response “Hm?”

“The survey never lies.” He quotes mockingly.

Jaskier snorts, shoving at Geralt’s shoulder playfully, but the witcher doesn’t budge, only nuzzling in closer against his neck. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Very.”

[vaguelyrotten]

Like a Lily in a Flood

Title: Like a Lily in a Flood Artist: @myulalie Beta: @another-random-stranger​​ Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, mentions of Jimon and Reyhill Word Count: 70k Warnings: Mild Gore, Beheading, Nearly being eaten alive and burned at the stake, Discrimination, Sickness Summary:  Alec returns home to find his town plagued by a mysterious illness. Unable to find a cure, he ventures into the woods to seek help from an unlikely source. We must not look at goblin men... This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2021: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

Chapter Nine

“Do you really think they’ll go hunting for those ingredients?” Jace asked a few hours later as their horses trotted steadily towards the entrance to Edom Forest.

“Well, I gave them direction, which is what they ultimately desire...and I plan on returning to the forest to collect what they’ve gathered once I have examined Alec again.” He’d sent the goblins on a search for the ingredients to make more of the healing paste. It wouldn’t wake those affected, but it would certainly help with the stiffness in their limbs when they finally awoke. Magnus was hoping to be prepared.

“I thought you said killing the king would break the spell.”

“Yes and no,” Magnus started with a sigh. “My father’s spell was the cause, but killing him was only part of the solution. Now that both parties involved in the spell are out of the way, hopefully I can get a better grasp on what the true cure will be. The magic of the contract will no longer cloud what I can see.” All in all, it made perfect sense. Magnus was just hoping that it was the truth.

“Well, if anyone can figure it out, it’s you. We knew that before; based on the way that Alec talked about you but after these past two days...any doubt that I may have had is gone.” He was silent for a moment — the only sound was the horses’ hooves clopping across the hard ground. “You’re good for Alec. There was a time before he left that we thought we were going to lose him.”

Magnus felt a chill run through him. “What do you mean?” he asked quietly.

Jace sighed and dropped his reins, letting Ghost follow Elias while he turned in the saddle to look Magnus in the eyes. “Robert and Maryse. They were hard on him. Harder than they ever were on the rest of us. They expected him to take over the family. Succeed where they couldn’t...There was a time there where he started to get cold and drift away. Honestly, getting accepted into Alicante University was the best thing that could have happened to him. He learned how to be Alec again.” Jace paused in thought, before turning to Magnus with a grin spread across his face. “Second best thing, that is. You’re the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“I know I’ve done a lot to help you all try to find a cure, but how can you say that?” Magnus asked quietly. “I barely know Alec.” Despite Magnus’ personal feelings about Alec, it was true that they had only actually met a handful of times.

“That doesn’t matter,” Jace replied happily. “Some people just fit, you know? Like me and my Simon - he’s a musician back in Idris. I knew that first time that we met that we were meant for each other. That’s what you and Alec are like. Sometimes he has a hard time talking about his feelings, but Izzy and I can tell.”

Magnus chose not to reply, instead mulling over Jace’s words in his head. He knew that he and Alec fit together like pieces of a puzzle. He’d known that since he’d first laid eyes on him. A man who had snuck past his wards and made Magnus’ magic buzz in a way that he’d never felt in the hundreds of years that he had been alive. He didn’t want to say soul mates, not out loud, at least, but what other answer could there be?

It was nearly dark by the time the horses passed through the treeline and plodded down the cobblestone road towards the Lightwood estate. Isabelle was waiting outside for them when they arrived, looking every bit the anxious sister waiting for word of their success or failure. “Oh, thank the Angel!” She explained, bounding over to Jace and pulling her brother into a tight hug before turning to do the same for Magnus. “I didn’t know how long it would take, but when you didn’t return last night I started to fear for the worst. Were you successful? Is the spell lifted?”

“We were successful,” Magnus started, his body tense and unused to hugs. “My father is dead. We can begin to truly look for a cure now. His magic would muddle what my magic is trying to tell me.”

“Not to mention Magnus sort of became king.” Jace added, jumping off Ghost’s back and beginning to loosen the mare’s girth.

“Sort of?” Isabelle asked, her eyes wide, with disbelief written in every line of her face.

“Yes.” Magnus answered, still a tad uncomfortable with the very prospect of that. “There is also that, but we can dwell on kingship later. Let us take another look at Alec and see what we can figure out now that my father’s spell is broken.”

He followed Isabelle into the house and up the stairs to the room that he was now starting to recognize as Alec’s, leaving Jace outside to finish taking care of his mare.

“Has there been any change?”

Isabelle shook her head. “He still hasn’t woken, but the paste has pretty much removed the stonelike texture in his skin. He looks less ill now; if only we could wake him.”

Magnus stepped closer and ran the back of his hand gently across Alec’s cheek. If he hadn’t known the full story, he would have guessed the man was simply sleeping...except that he was far too still.

He let a wave of familiar blue spill from his fingers and he closed his eyes, focusing on what his magic was telling him.

The wrongness that he associated with his father’s magic was gone. There wasn’t a trace lingering anywhere in Alec’s body. It was almost like Alec was now frozen in time, just waiting for his body to get a restart.

There had to be something that Magnus could try. Some sort of magical cure-all that he could try now that his father’s spell wasn’t interfering. Maybe a combination of magical plants that they hadn’t tried, maybe he could infuse them with a little bit of his own magic…

His mind grinded to a halt quickly as a realization struck him.

A magic amulet that had been made to help a human woman through a tough pregnancy so many years ago — one that he and Alec both had a connection to. A magic amulet that had recently come into his possession that had helped cure a dear friend from a curse…

He reached into his jacket pocket with a slight tremor in his hands. There was a very, very slim chance of this actually working, he knew that. It was too easy, but it was worth a shot. He’d try anything if there could be even the smallest chance it would bring Alec back to him.

He laid the amulet and Alec’s chest and took a deep breath before he crossed his hands and placed them over the figure of the serpent. He gave Isabelle a small smile before closing his eyes and letting himself get lost in the deep well that was old sentient magic.

When he’d done this to heal Raphael, he’d nearly lost himself amidst the swirling void. Had it not been for Ragnor and Catarina’s grounding presence, he wasn’t sure if he ever would have found his way out. He didn’t have that now but he had Alec’s sister and brother and Alec himself counting on him. That would have to be enough.

He felt the questioning presence of the magic inside the amulet. What was he doing here again so soon? What more could he want?

Please, he begged it, please help him. Please help all of them. Innocent people don’t deserve to suffer because of the greed of a few.

The magic swirled around him in the void. He felt how it judged him and considered his request and he could only pray that it would accept. He’d told Alec that old magic artifacts tended to have a mind of their own and that was very much the case with this amulet. Please, I can’t lose him when I’ve only just found him.

There was a flash of coldness that made Magnus jump before the void around him filled with a pulsing warmth.

He let out a sigh of relief. That was both permission and acceptance.

Magnus poured what little magic he had recovered into the amulet and let the ancient magic do the rest.

He opened his eyes as Alec took a deep, gasping breath. Fond blue eyes met his and Magnus let out a sob. “Alexander.” He twisted his fingers gently in the man’s dark hair as his sister dove across the bed to pull him into a hug, tears welling up in her eyes.

Magnus snapped his fingers, ignoring the pain of his drained magic, and summoned a glass of water. He held it up to Alec’s lips and helped him take a few small sips.

“You did it,” Alec croaked, his voice scratchy and quiet from the illness. “You figured out a cure.”

“We figured out a cure,” Magnus replied with a smile. “You and me, your siblings… it takes a village to cure a village, I suppose.”

Alec tried to push himself into a sitting position and frowned as his limbs wouldn’t seem to work. “Hey,” Magnus said sternly, sliding his arm around Alec and helping him sit up. “You need to take it easy, Alec. You just woke up. Your body still needs to heal. It will take some time before your limbs feel up to moving.”

Jace walked into the room and froze in the doorway as he saw Alec awake and sitting up. “Alec! It worked!” He practically dove across the bed much like Isabelle had moments before and pushed her out of the way so that he could get to Alec.

“I hear you had a hand in that,” Alec whispered, his voice still rough and quiet.

“Magnus and I killed his father. Your boy is king now.”

Magnus winced as Alec turned to him with wide eyes. “King?”

“It’s a long story, my love, I’ll leave you to catch up with your siblings.” The sadness that flashed across Alec’s face didn’t escape him and Magnus removed his hand from Alec’s hair to turn his head gently and place a soft kiss on the man’s forehead. “None of that, I’ll be back shortly. I’ve got my father’s people, my people, looking for more of the ingredients for the salve so that we can make enough to begin to heal the rest of Idris. I just need to meet up with them and gather what they’ve collected. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He left Alec to the care of his siblings and made his way down the stairs and out the front door. Elias had long since left to return to wherever he went when he wasn’t with Magnus. The kelpie had given more time than he’d needed to a problem that had nothing to do with him because he and Magnus were close. Once this was all over, Magnus felt he owed him some sort of feast.

He knew that he could likely borrow Flame, Alec certainly wouldn’t care, but he figured that the short walk down the path to the edge of Edom Forest would do wonders to calm his nerves. He’d barely made it around the bend before a shadow passed behind him and he frowned, turning to see who had come up behind him. Something iron struck him across the head and Magnus had just enough time to process that his skin felt like it was burning before he dropped to the ground, unconscious.

----------

When he woke, it was to the morning sun shining brightly in his eyes. He groaned, throwing an arm over his face to block the light as he tried to think past the relentless headache pounding in his head. There was hard ground under his back, and he cursed himself for not finding a more comfortable place to sleep the night before. He tried to magic his throbbing headache away and swore when it didn’t instantly disappear.

Wait.

He shot up, looking around as the events from the previous night came rushing back to him. He’d cured Alec and gone to meet up with the goblins in the woods to get more ingredients to make the salve so that he could start curing the rest of the people of Idris. He’d never made it to the woods...he’d been attacked from behind.

He found himself in a cage. It was too small for him to move around much or stand up, and the bars were made of a heavy iron. It was the metal which prevented his magic use, which meant that he was as trapped as any normal human would have been. He grabbed a bar and gave it a tentative tug, wincing and recoiling as his skin burned from the touch.

“You won’t get out that way, creature. If those bars can hold an angry bear, they can certainly contain a skinny little whelp.” The woman who spoke was older than Alec and his siblings, with a stern face and harsh eyes. She was dressed in a neat black dress and plain shoes. Magnus rubbed the heaviness out of his eyes trying to get his vision to clear. “Frankly, I would have just dispatched you right then and there instead of bringing you back here. After what you did, you don’t deserve a trial.”

“What?” Magnus asked before he had a chance to stop the words from falling from his mouth. “What am I supposed to have done? I did nothing to deserve this.”

She scoffed, stepping a few feet closer with a disgusted look on her face. “Please. You know exactly what we’re talking about, you vile creature. You’re the one responsible for the stone sickness — what else could it be but disgusting magic?”

“What? I’m not the one responsible! What proof do you even have?”

“Other than the fact that you were seen around the Lightwood’s shortly after their eldest succumbed to the disease as well? How much longer before Maryse loses her other children?”

“I was leaving the Lightwoods because I’ve been trying to help them find a cure and we did. I healed Alexander last night!” He knew that protesting was a lost cause. He could see that she didn’t want to listen — didn’t want to believe him — but he wasn’t about to go down without a fight; not with Alec waiting for his return.

She snorted and shook her head in disbelief. “And why should we believe that? We’ve got stories about the horrible things that your people have done. Why would you help one of us?”

“Because I love Alec,” he started quietly, raising his voice ever so slightly before he continued. “And because innocent people don’t deserve to suffer. The stone sickness was caused by a pact between Valentine and the goblin king. The spell binding them together has been broken. I know how to heal the rest of your village. Please. Give me a chance.”

A raindrop hit Magnus’ face and the woman glanced towards the center of town where a large pyre was being built before turning her attention back to Magnus and giving him one last look. “Your execution will be held as soon as the weather clears. We can’t very well have a fire in the middle of a rainstorm.” She turned and walked back towards a large building at the end of the lane, her heels clicking against the cobblestones and echoing in the nearly empty town.

The pit of Magnus’ stomach dropped as he focused on the growing pile of logs in the center of the square. His heart started pounding as he watched two men haul another log over and add it to the pile.

Not this. Anything but this.

Magnus had been both too young and too traumatized to remember much from the day his mother died, but there are flashes from that time that occasionally haunt his nightmares. He remembered that they’d once lived in a cabin on the edge of the woods — halfway between his father’s camp in Edom Forest and the town of Idris where his mother was from.

His father did love his mother, in that weird way that only Asmodeus could, but the people of Idris showed no such love. Once Magnus had been born with his cat eyes and a shower of magic around him, she’d been forced out of town and had taken refuge in the rundown and abandoned house. While they wanted nothing to do with her or her monstrous child, she brought them exotic fruits that had long since been forgotten from deep in the goblin territory in Idris. They tolerated her occasional presence as long as she continued to provide them with the forbidden treats.

As Magnus grew, he spent most of his time playing in the woods either by himself or with others like him. He would accompany his mother into town on the rare occasion, but the humans would keep their children far away from him. He’d been too young to truly understand why at the time.

He still didn’t know why his mother and father had fallen out. He could remember his father screaming, the goblin king’s magic nearly suffocating him. It had been so heavy in the air, and he remembered his mother crying and begging. He remembered his father turning and walking away.

His mother sat there and cried for what felt like ages to his younger self. When the tears finally stopped, she gathered him up and took them home. Magnus had a vague sense that a few days passed before there was a knock on the door and his mother froze. He would never forget the look of terror that flashed quickly across her face. She’d instructed him to hide under the bed and to not make a sound. No matter what he saw or heard he was not to come out.

He’d done as she asked, hiding under their bed as far back as he could, and he watched as his mother answered the door and discussed something quietly with two of the mean-looking men from town. After that, everything had happened nearly too fast for young Magnus to follow. The two men grabbed his mother and dragged her from the house as she screamed and cried and begged them to let her go.

The door had thumped close behind them and the house had gone silent. He had done as she had asked, hiding under the bed until night fell and their little cottage began getting unnaturally dark before he had dared crawl out from his hiding place. He remembered calling out for his mother knowing that she wasn’t there.

He hadn’t known what to do. He had never been without his mother. Was she coming back? Was he supposed to wait for her?

He eventually grew tired of waiting and snuck out the front door, following the path into town that he and his mother had taken so many times before. He remembered seeing a large crowd gathered in the center of town — unusual as Idris had seemed nearly deserted any time they’d visited before — and their attention was focused on something tall and bright in the middle of the square.

He didn’t think he could get closer. There were far too many grown-ups in the way so Magnus had scaled the closed tree and had scrambled to the top for a closer look. From the top of the tree he could see it was a giant bonfire, bigger even than the one his father liked to dance around. And in the middle, tied to a post…

...was his mother.

Her skin was burnt and charred and looked like it was melting. She was screaming in pain, a sound Magnus hadn’t heard her make before. He still remembered the bright red of the dress she had on as it was consumed by the flame.

He had bolted out of the tree and into the woods towards his father’s camp.

He’d hold that image in his mind for the rest of his immortal life. It was his first lesson on the cruelty of humans.

Magnus, somewhere in his heart, had known it would come to this. If he didn’t meet his death at the hands of his father’s people, he was going to go the way some of the other half breeds had — stoned, burned, or drowned by the people of Idris.

And of course, of course, it was raining - because truly, it seemed like it was always raining in Idris. For once in his life, however, he could be grateful that he was soaking wet. The non-stop storms over the past few days were the only thing keeping them from tying him to the post they’d constructed in the center of town and lighting the pyre.

The past few days had been trying and Magnus just wanted it to be over. The people of Idris had mocked and shunned him. A few had looked at him in pity though they were few and far between. The iron in the bars that surrounded him was starting to hurt. His skin ached, his body ached, his magic wept.

He sighed, and pulled his knees up to his chest, relieved at least that they’d let him keep his clothes, even if they weren’t doing much to keep him warm and dry at the moment. The cage they’d pushed him in was uncomfortable enough. He didn’t need to add embarrassment to the list of problems he currently had.

A voice from behind him coughed politely, and he turned his head towards the sound out of instinct, only catching himself afterwards and wondering if that had been a good idea. “Excuse me — Magnus is it? Is it true you cured Alec Lightwood?” The man was young, about Alec’s age if Magnus had to guess, and blond. He was standing in the open doorway of the building closest to Magnus’ cage. A quick glance up at the sign told him that it was a bakery.

Magnus nodded, but turned his head back to glance at the looming pyre. “Yes, not that they’d believe me. It would be easy enough for them just to go to the Lightwood manor and check but that doesn’t matter. They have no leniency towards monsters.”

“Could you do it with the others who have fallen ill? Could you heal them too?”

“I did it once. I could do it again… unfortunately, I won’t get the chance. After I die, I doubt any of the others like me will be willing to risk their lives to help.”’

“But you could do it? If we could stop your execution?” The man asked, still leaning in the doorway of the bakery to keep out of the rain. The smell wafting out of the building made Magnus’ stomach rumble. When was the last time he’d eaten anything? It had been three days since he’d been in this stupid cage. He’d absolutely kill for some food right now.

He nodded, drawing his knees closer as he fought back a shiver from a gust of wind. “That was the plan,” he muttered as he buried his head in his arms. “Alec was just the test subject. If it worked for him, we were going to take it to everyone. Who do you know who fell ill?”

“My sister.”

“I hope you can find someone else to help her then.” There was no response to that and Magnus realized the man must have gone back inside. He shivered again as he bit back a sob.

He needed a miracle. Unfortunately, there were no miracles for people like him.

[elsaclack]

30 and 42 for peraltiago please 🥺

SO THIS ISN’T MY BEST EVER but i kinda....maybe......partially like it??

pre-relationship, probably late s2ish?? bc i have no other brand or any sense of self-control, apparently

30. “Those things you said yesterday...did you mean them?”

42. “I don’t care, just hold me.”

Amy doesn’t see Jake for nearly six hours after they arrive at the emergency room.

She tries not to let it bother her - she knows he’s okay, she could hear him arguing with the nurses for the entire first hour they were there - but the truth is, after the last twenty-four hours of terror and pain with nothing but him tethering her to reality, it feels not unlike she’s missing some vital part of herself without him in sight.

And she supposes the feeling must be mutual; after six hours of faint, but persistent anxiety festering in the spaces between her ribs, the door to her room cracks open, and he noiselessly slips inside.

He keeps his back pressed to the wall beside the door well after it’s clicked shut again.  “You awake?” he whispers in the semi-darkness.

“Yeah,” she rasps, and he darts toward her.  She can tell he’s limping, even in the shadows cast across his figure by the dim lights behind her bed, and she chokes down the automatic admonishment that rises in her throat at the sight.  She knows it would fall on deaf ears - she knows if the roles were reversed, she’d shrug him off without a second thought.  So she watches him move closer, watches him drag the guest chair closer to her bedside with one hand, watches him feel around in the folds of her blankets for her hand.

And once he’s got a firm grip on her hand, he finally goes still.

Jake presses his lips against her knuckles, and she’s thankful for the darkness concealing the faint blush that spreads across her cheeks at the scratchy feel of his five o’clock shadow against her skin.  “You okay?” he whispers, gently tracing a path up her arm from her wrist up to her shoulder and back down again with the fingertips of his free hand.

She shrugs the best she can, and he exhales a huff of laughter through his nose.  He’s close enough that she can see the faintest glint of light reflecting off the whites of his eyes, and a bubble of warmth expands around her heart.  “What about you?  Are you okay?”

She taps her index finger against his hand, adjusting her head on the pillow to see him a bit easier.  He blinks, lips pursed to one side, like he’s really considering it.  “Better, now,” he finally says.

She blushes again.

Slowly - wincing against the sharp pains of her muscles protesting her movements - she rolls to her right side, closer to him.  Jake doesn’t try to stop her, though his grip momentarily tightens around her hand; it loosens as slowly as she sighs, settling into her new position on the bed.

It’s quiet for a moment, and even though the quiet is normally something Amy rather enjoys in his company, right now all she hears is the distant echoes of torture playing on a never-ending loop in her mind.  So she clears her throat, eyes squeezed shut, only opening them when she senses him shifting in his seat.

“Hey,” Jake’s voice is low and soothing, and she does her resolute best to focus on it over the memory of his voice shattered with desperation.  She blinks, shaking her head slightly, and his face comes swimming into view.  “We’re okay,” he reminds her, gently squeezing her hand.  “We made it.”

She nods, ignoring the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Don’t,” he says sharply - so sharply he seems to surprise himself.  “This wasn’t your fault.”

“It was, though,” she mumbles, and Jake’s grip on her hand tightens again - and this time, she can feel her own hand shaking.  “Kirkland was my perp, you only got caught up in it because you happened to be with me when -”

“When he attacked you and kidnapped you and dragged you back to a literal torture chamber that he built specifically for you,” Jake interrupts, and Amy clenches her jaw against a veritable tsunami of guilt - her fault, her fault, her fault.  “Ames, I’m glad I was there.  I’m glad he decided to take me, too.”

Her breath catches in her chest, but his earnestness does not fade.  “You are?” she manages after a beat.

“Hell yeah I am,” he says with a forceful nod.  “Could you imagine what would have happened if I hadn’t been in there with you?” 

She tries to conjure the images in her mind, but all she sees is his face contorted in pain, rivlets of blood dripping down his pale skin from somewhere above his hairline.

“He woulda killed you, Amy,” he says softly, and it’s like a bucket of ice water over her head.  “If I hadn’t’ve been there to negotiate with him -” he stops, shivering in a way she thinks might not be entirely voluntary, and it’s suddenly very difficult to remember how to breathe.  “He would’ve - god.  I’m so glad I was there.”

She knew, on some level, that she spent a certain amount of time being held hostage completely unconscious; it hadn’t occurred to her in the disorienting moments after regaining consciousness that the dream she’d had of Jake begging for both of their lives - for her life, specifically - had actually happened.  But now that she’s thinking about it - now that she’s really allowing herself to relive it - she can’t believe she spent even a moment believing her mind could conjure anything as horrific as Jake listing all of the reasons their deranged captor shouldn’t murder her in cold blood.

“You talked to him about me, didn’t you?” she rasps, and Jake nods slowly.  “You begged him not to kill me.”

“You could hear me?”

“I thought I was dreaming,” she says absently.  “What did - what did you tell him?”

He clears his throat, fingers rippling self-consciously against the back of her hand.  “I - I told him that you’re so smart, and sweet, and funny,” he starts, “and that you’re horrifically awkward with kids, but you’d do absolutely anything for your nieces and nephews.  That you have six brothers who adore you and one who kind of tolerates you. Um, that you make mini loaves of pumpkin bread and give them to all of your neighbors on the first day of fall every year, and chocolate chip cookies for the first day of spring.  I told him that you’re a terrible dancer but you’re taking classes to get better and that you love animals but can’t go within five feet of a dog without having a full-on epipen level allergic reaction.  That you pretend to hate pop music but you can sing along with almost every Taylor Swift song on my Spotify playlist.  That you love cheese but hate string cheese and you can only have red wine on Friday nights because you get such a bad headache the next day, but you refuse to stop drinking it even though it’s clearly bad for you.  I told him that you’re my best friend,” he murmurs, “and that I love you more than anyone on the planet, and - that I’d, y’know...I’d just be kinda...lost.  Without you.  Or something - something like that.”

She exhales slowly, watching him chew the inside of his cheek and avoid eye-contact.  “I - I don’t - know what to say,” she finally manages.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, “you don’t have to say anything.  I’m - I was desperate, y’know.  He - had a knife, and I couldn’t - my wrists were tied, I couldn’t get to you to - to physically stop him.  I would’ve said anything.”

She nods, hoping the room is dim enough to mask the undeniable wave of disappointment flooding her belly.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t stop him from hurting you,” he says softly, so softly the tears spring up automatically at his words.  “God, hearing you scream - I don’t think I’m ever gonna get that sound outta my head.  I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, and this time he doesn’t try to cut her off - just shakes his head, diligently chewing his cheek once more, eyes fixated on the blankets bunched beneath her crooked elbow.  “And you’re right - if you hadn’t been there, I - I don’t think this would have ended in the ER for me.”

He clears his throat again, briefly pressing the back of her hand to his lips.

“Did you mean it?”

He lowers her hand slowly, brow furrowed, and there’s a mottled-looking bruise developing over his left temple, dipping dangerously close to his eye.  “What?”

“The things you said...did you mean them?”

He shakes his head - an absent movement she recognizes from all the times she’s watched him try to piece a puzzle together.  “I’m not following you,” he confesses.

“You said you would’ve said anything to stop Kirkland from killing me.  Did - did you mean all the things you did say to him?”

His mouth drops open, but no words come; he shakes his head again, a confused laugh escaping from his throat.  “I just - I was trying to humanize you, I just - told him facts about you -”

“Jake.”

He keeps up the facade another moment, before deflating.  “Yeah, I meant it,” he mumbles, the pad of his thumb swiping up the inward curve of her own thumb in a nervous tick.  “I just - I dunno, Ames.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” she says truthfully; he studies her expression for a moment, before nodding in bald-faced thankfulness.  “But you should know - the feelings are...mutual.”

She can see his eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline, a broad grin splitting his face in an instant. “Oh-ho,” he quietly crows, “so you are totally in love with me!”

“Never said in love,” she mutters, rolling her eyes and ignoring the faint ache at the base of her skull at the movement.  He snorts, leaning closer to her, and through the mirth she can see it - unabashed affection simmering in his soft gaze.  Her heart throbs, familiar and exhilarating, and for a third time he presses her hand against his lips.  Exhaustion thrums through her veins, tugging at her sticky eyelids, and despite the fact that she can feel the warmth of his breath on her face every time he exhales, he’s stupidly, stupidly far away.  “Come up here,” she murmurs with a twitch of her wrist.

He furrows his brow.  “What, in the bed with you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s so narrow - and your knee -”

“I don’t care,” she interrupts, “just - hold me.  Please.”

She tacks the last word on as an afterthought - as cushioning to what she belatedly realizes is more of an order than an invitation.  “Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, already sprung up from his seat to clamber up the side of the bed, and whatever pulse of self-consciousness she felt fades immediately.

Amy rolls painstakingly to her left side, biting back a pained groan the entire way that only subsides when she feels the warm wall of Jake’s body flush against her back.  He pulls her into him until her shoulders brush against his chest, and she closes her eyes at the feeling of him nosing through her hair.  The crown of her head is wrapped in thick bandages, but she still feels the press of his lips against her; carefully, she turns her head to find him a breath away, watching her through long eyelashes.

It’s not the most comfortable position - she’s sure she’ll get a crick in her neck like this if she tries to hold it too long - but when he tentatively brushes his lips against hers, her discomfort vanishes.  It’s just him - his arms around her waist and curled beneath her head, his knees slotted in behind hers, his lips warm and gentle, moving in tandem with hers.

He presses another kiss to the corner of her mouth when she pulls away, and another to her cheek as her head automatically rolls to a more comfortable position; as she turns her head back to face the far wall, he trails kisses down the side of her neck and up the line of her shoulder.  “Thank you,” she whispers.

“Sh,” he shushes her, and her eyes flutter closed.  “Sleep now.  Talk later.”  He plants two more kisses at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.  “I like you.”

She smiles - a small, tired thing.  “I like you, too.”

He murmurs something else - something that makes him laugh, that makes the mattress sway beneath their bodies - but she’s asleep before it reaches her.

request a prompt for any of these pairings!

[random-mha-thoughts]

Sick (Todoroki x Reader) Birthday Special!

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader 

Genre: Fluff (fluffed myself into devastation again)

Summary: It’s your boyfriend’s birthday, but unfortunately you’re feeling less enthusiastic about it because you’re sick as a dog.  So what happens when the birthday boy finds out you’re in less than top condition?

Inspo: Me, myself, and I bc I was sick this past week (and I’m still not over it), and this Tik Tok bc I’m a loser.

Word count: 1,698

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE ONLY ICYHOT THAT MATTERS TODOROKI!!

I decided to combine a birthday special with an idea I had about a sick reader that I was going to write anyway because softboy Todo is the best Todo (besides the ones where he’s flirty but that’s different)

Don’t judge me for being on Tiktok, my cousin was showing me all the cosplayers and I was sold, the cosplayers are so talented, I’m really jealous T.T.  Not to mention there’s actually some really great fanfic fodder floating around there, so don’t be shocked if I post some others inspired by Tiktoks.  Anyway, enjoy the story!

I feel like I've been run over.

Every muscle in my body is either aching or stiff, my nose is stuffed, my throat hurts, and my body is cold and hot at the same time despite wearing flannel pajamas.  At random times last night, I woke up between whatever snipets of random dreams I can remember.

In short, I feel miserable and I've only been awake for 10 seconds.

I was hoping it wouldn't get to this point.  Two days ago, I started taking vitamin C supplements because I felt the tickling scratchiness starting up in my throat, and yesterday I was out with the Deku squad in the cold because Uraraka wanted to go to some wings place in the city in the freezing cold.  Never did I think it would escalate to this.

I blame Denki.  The idiot was coughing like a dog all over the place.

At first, I'm happy it's a Saturday and I can probably just lay in bed and sleep all day.  When I finally gather enough energy to roll over and look at my phone, I feel infinitely worse.

Fuck. It's January 11.

Today's Todoroki's birthday.  And I'm sick.  What kind of twist of fate is this?  I wanted to take him out to eat or go to an arcade or something just to spend the day with him, but it takes too much energy to get up.

I huff, guilt eating at me.  I have to do this, for my baby.  Kicking the covers off, I slowly roll up to sit at the edge of my bed, wrapping myself in my blanket and trudging to the bathroom.  The soreness in my limbs beg me to go back to bed, but I repeat the mantra, "For Shouto, it's for Shouto " to keep me going.

As soon as I see myself in the bathroom mirror I whine.  My face is so pale that my dark circles are more prominent, emphasizing my obvious lack of good sleep.  After I complete the strenuous task of brushing my teeth, I shuffle back to my bed and faceplant down at the foot side since I'm too tuckered out to get in properly.  I'll wait for Shouto to come after breakfast.  I'll just go back to sleep, I persuade myself as I drift off.  Maybe I can ask him to only spend half a day so I can come back and sleep, I'm sure he'll understand...

After some time, I'm startled out of my half slumber by a soft knock at the door.  "Love?  Are you awake?  It's me."

I smile at my precious angel's manners.  "Coming, just give me a sec."  I gather all my strength and try not to make it look like I'm dying on the inside as I open the door.

There Todoroki stands in his casual clothes, his endearing, ever-neutral face present as usual.  "Good morning.  You weren't down for breakfast, did you eat already?"

"No, not yet, I just woke up," I answer, my voice slightly hoarse.

His brows furrow.  "Did you drink any water yet at least?  They say it's good for starting your metabolism in the morning."

I shake my head.

He studies me, his heterochromatic eyes scanning me up and down in my blanket-clad state before scrutinizing my face.  "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Not really..."

He crosses his arms over his chest and steps towards me, making me take another one back.  "You know I don't like it when you don't take care of yourself.  You know what that means."  A dark aura washes over his face.

I cling to my blanket and screw my eyes shut, somewhat afraid of him when he gets like this.

A warm hand comes down on my head.  "You feel warmer than you're supposed to, the heat's radiating off of you.  Not to mention you're pale," he comments.  He removes his hand.  "Get back to bed, you're not going anywhere today."

"But it's your birthday, I wanted to spend the day with you," I cough at the end.  The muffled noise and the pain in my ears that follows males me realize my hearing is shot along with everything else wrong with me.

"We can spend the day in bed together," he argues, pushing me gently down to recline.

I groan at how stubborn he is.  "Can't we go out for half a day?  I promise I'll rest later."

"No," Todoroki dismisses tersely, refitting the blanket across my sheets.  "We can save that for tomorrow, you need rest."  He places a gentle kiss on my forehead and pauses.  "That's definitely a low to mid grade fever.  Can I trust you to stay here while I gather some supplies?"

I blink.  What.  "Yes, I'll stay put," I surrender.

After almost half an hour, Todoroki returns, awakening me from my slumber with arms full.

"What the-"  I eye the huge pot in his hands and a tote bag hanging off his arm.

He set the pot down on the floor.  "I took the liberty of making you chicken soup with some ginger for your throat.  I also brought some medicine for your fever, a box of tissues, a humidifier, some nose spray for the congestion, a bag of cough drops, a thermos of water, a carton of orange juice-"

I whine out loud like a child, feeling a huge rock of guilt on my chest.

"Is something wrong?  Are you in pain?"  His affectionate gaze flickers to me in worry.

"You're killing me, Shouto!"

He sits next to me on the bed, brushing my face with his fingertips.  "Did I do something wrong?  I'm sorry-"

"No, it's not you," I sigh.  "I just feel so bad.  Today's your birthday, and here you are taking care of me because I got sick instead of doing something fun.  I'm terrible."

His fingers brush my hair off my forehead.  "Love, it's not your fault that you're sick on my birthday-"

"Yeah, it's Kaminari's," I interject with a pout.

Todoroki chuckles.  "I'll fix him later.  I don't need anything special, I just want to spend time with you.  Besides, you being ill gives me the perfect excuse to stay by your side all day."

Warmth blooms in my chest at his loving words.  I sniff, "You're too good to me."

He kisses my forehead again.  "I'm fully expecting the same treatment if I ever get sick as repayment."

"Huh?!"

A heart-melting smile cracks across his face.  "Kidding, Love.  Just finish your soup and let me take care of you.  That's more than enough repayment."

The rest of the day passed in a comfortable blur.  Todoroki fed me soup by the bowl every few hours for my meals, made sure I drank water throughout the day, and gave me orange juice to drink.  "You need the Vitamin C to help your immune system work," he says.  All day, he wrapped us in blankets as we binge-watched shows and movies on my laptop while regulating my temperature with his quirk.  He catered to every need I had from my stuffy nose to my muffled hearing.  He even started massaging my sore muscles to ease the dull pain.  My heart couldn't feel fuller knowing he willingly nursed me back to health when he could've been doing something more fun or at least productive.

"Shouto, don't you want to at least go train today?" I ask.  "You don't have to sit here with me the whole day."

His hand around my body squeezes tighter.  "I'd rather be here with you than train."

I weakly hit his chest.  "You sound slightly obsessive."

Todoroki's cool fingers absently play with my hair, brushing my cheeks.  "If you fall asleep, I'll step out for a little so I don't bother you."

After a moment, I tilt my head up at him.  "I want to give you your gift at least.  It's in the top drawer."

Quirking an eyebrow, he gets out of bed and opens my chest of drawers.  "You didn't need to get me anything."  He pulls out a thin, black cardboard box on top.

"I'm warning you now, it's kind of stupid, but I didn't know what to get for a boy who already has everything," I admit, nervously watching him sit back next to me and open it.

Inside is a simple string bracelet with two silver balls flanking a golden Sun symbol.  Todoroki takes it out and immediately puts it on his right wrist to admire it, though his expression is blank as ever.

"I know you don't wear jewelry, but I wanted to keep it simple.  Besides, it's actually a couples set," I nod over to my bedside table.  "Mine is over there."

He surveys the mess and locks eyes with a bracelet of similar design except a silver crescent moon is in the middle.

"You get the Sun one because you're my precious sunshine boy," I chuckle before coughing to clear my throat.  "Sorry, that was really cheesy-"

Todoroki cups my face and seals my lips before I can finish.  I almost kiss him back instinctively, but I pull his hands away.  "Shouto, I'm sick-"

"Thank you."  A soft smile appears across his features and his eyes glint in affection, washing me over in warmth.  "I'll wear it every day, when I'm not training so it won't break."

Before I can respond, he tackles me in another kiss, sending my heart into a frenzy of irregular beats.  His kisses are sweet yet searing, pouring all of his love as he moves against me, clinging to my body like a lifeline.

When Todoroki finally pulls away, my head spins, but I can't miss the grin on his face as he caresses my cheek.  "I love you," he whispers.

And just like that, my heart feels squeezed again.  "You're gonna get sick."

He pecks my nose.  "At least it's from you."

I bury my face in his chest, heat rushing to my cheeks and ears.  "I love you too, you big dork."

The rise and fall of his chest and his soft touch in my hair lulls me to sleep in his arms, a smile on both of our faces.

[afoolforatook]

Day 2 - Domestic

Read on Ao3 - To Grow Old Alongside You

And check the notes on Ao3 for an added bonus.

Kudos are always appreciated and every single comment gets saved to my ‘Lovely people I owe my soul to’ Album

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

One thing you can be absolutely sure of, is that Qrow Branwen will never take the simple act of watching the man he loves grow old for granted.

Or, Qrow loves Grey-haired!Clover just as much as we do.

To Grow Old Alongside You

Clover was pulled awake by the sensation of calloused fingers brushing along his cheekbone. He hummed contentedly as he pushed up into Qrow’s hand, which was now trailing gently over the short hair at his temple. 

“ ‘morning.” He said, his voice still scratchy and heavy with sleep. He didn’t open his eyes yet, just feeling the soft, comforting, pressure of Qrow’s fingers in his hair. 

“Morning. Go back to sleep, I didn’t mean to wake you up, sorry.” And then the gentle warmth had left his face. 

Clover whined in playful, but still true, disapproval, finally opening his eyes and reaching out for Qrow’s hand, placing it back against the side of his face. 

“ Don’t mind. I’d be a fool to complain about this kind of wake up call. Besides, if anything can get me back to sleep now, it’s you playing with my hair.” 

Qrow chuckled and Clover just stared at him, his chest filling with the warmth that Qrow’s laugh always managed to run through him. 

“What’re you doing up so early, anyway? Thought you’d sleep in a bit after getting in so late last night.” He asked, moving his arm to wrap around Qrow’s waist and pull him closer, so that his head rested on Clover’s shoulder. 

“I.... couldn’t sleep.”

Clover looked down at him slightly worried. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” 

Qrow just shook his head, threading his fingers through the hair at the nape of Clover’s neck. 

“It wasn’t that bad. Nothing you could’ve done anyway… Just… I don’t know.” He sighed and smiled into Clover’s collarbone.  

“Just watching you for a little while was enough.”

Clover grinned and pressed his cheek to the top of Qrow’s head. 

“You looove me.” He said teasingly, giving Qrow a gentle squeeze, his eyes closing again. He really would fall asleep again fairly quickly, with Qrow running his fingers through his hair like that. 

He’d expected Qrow to return with some playful snarky remark or gentle push. He hadn’t expected the soft, sincere sound in Qrow’s voice as he spoke. 

“Yes... I-I really do.” There was something in Qrow’s voice Clover couldn’t place. It wasn’t sadness, not exactly. It was… reverence? Cautious acceptance? 

He moved to place a palm over Qrow’s free hand, pulling it up to rest against his chest, and adjusting them so he could look his husband in the eye. 

“What’s up, Qrow?” He said it softly, but matter-of-factly, not letting the older man look away from him. 

Qrow’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. Sometimes it was frustrating how well Clover knew him. How easily he could read him. He still didn’t always like to admit it though. Qrow tried to roll his eyes affectionately and throw him off, but Clover could see the tension in his jaw. 

“Nothing! Can’t I say that I love my husband without there being something wrong?” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. He was still trying to convince himself that the knot in his throat would just disappear if he watched Clover long enough. 

“I didn’t say what’s wrong. I said what’s up.” 

“I…. brothers! I mean really, Clover, that’s not fair, ya’know?” He knew him so damn well. Qrow went to pull away in mostly mock annoyance, but Clover held tight. 

“Qrow.” 

“I….” Qrow sighed, his hand going back to trace over Clover’s temple. And Clover could see it in his eyes now. That... not quite sadness. A heaviness - a surrender and a comfort all at once. It was a look of complete adoration. And it utterly melted Clover. But there was something pained behind it. 

“I hadn’t really noticed before.” Qrow whispered, his head angled so that he could look at Clover without lifting his head from his shoulder. His breath ghosted along Clover’s chin, as his fingers brushed along the cup of Clover’s ear, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

“Hmm? What?” Clover asked, fighting off the warm pull of sleep as he smiled down at Qrow, caught up in the crimson that peaked out from the subtle etches of crow’s feet and laugh lines on his face. Clover would never stop being happy at how many laugh lines Qrow had had reason to acquire in their time together. 

Qrow pulled gently at a longer piece of hair, raking his nails oh-so-softly over Clover’s scalp. Even after all these years, Clover still had no idea how that tiny, barely there touch, could make him feel so cold and so warm at the same time. How it could be so grounding and yet make his chest feel weightless. 

“The grey.”

Clover paused at that. He definitely had noticed. It hadn’t been very much for a while; only recently had it really gotten to a place where he thought other people might notice. And he wasn’t exactly self-conscious about it. He actually rather liked it, he thought it looked dignified. But Qrow saying it like that, so close - focusing on it so completely - brought up a sudden bashfulness in him. 

“O-oh… yeah… yeah, I guess it has… um… do you…” Gods, Qrow was the only person who could ever get this from him; this shy, fumbling, nervousness. 

“I….I was thinking about maybe dying it a little? Now that it was getting more….” That was a lie, and not a good one. He hadn’t thought of that at all, hadn’t wanted to, still didn’t want to. But Qrow looking at him like that, plucking at the grey strands like that, was really throwing him off so soon after waking up. 

“Really? That’d be a shame. I like it.” Qrow smirked, but there was still that underlying sincerity, fragility, that Clover didn’t know what to do with.

“Oh! Oh… okay… good.. I mean…  I mean I… I kinda like it too?”

Qrow didn’t speak again. He just stared at Clover’s temple, running his fingers through the hair. Clover thought he could almost see tears forming in the corners of his eyes. But as soon as he noticed that, Qrow turned, tucking his head back into the crook of Clover’s neck.  

He let them lay like that for a moment, until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He thought he might have felt the slightest hint of dampness on his bare skin, where Qrow’s face was pressed.

“Qrow? What is it? Talk to me.”

“What is what?” Qrow pushed himself up on one elbow, frowning down at Clover. But that look was still there. Clover was realizing that there was the slightest hint of fear in his eyes, beyond the subtle gleam of restrained tears. His voice was gravelly, but almost convincing. If Clover didn’t know him so well it might have worked. 

“That.” He reached up and pulled his thumb across Qrow’s cheek, watching as his eyes closed and he let out a long breath. “That look. You’re thinking too much about something.”

“It… It’s not... “ He sighed, running his hand through the back of his own hair, Clover noticing the slight pull of tension at the apex of his reach. Then he laid back down, his ear over Clover’s heart, and his fingers once more at his temple. 

“I… I just really like it…. Getting to grow old with you…. Getting to see you grow old…. It’s… it’s ….”

Clover could tell he cut himself off before his voice could break. He wanted to try to lighten the mood. 

“What? You’re not gonna miss my dashing young looks? Don’t wish we could just stay young forever?” 

As soon as the words passed his lips he knew they were a mistake. Shit. Why’d he have to talk so much right after waking up? His head wasn’t clear enough yet to say stuff like that, obviously. 

Because it hit him as soon as he stopped talking. What exactly Qrow was saying. Why the simple, inevitable fact of their aging together would affect him like that. 

Because for Qrow, that had never seemed inevitable. It had been a dream that he tried not to cling to, because of how painful he knew it would be when it fell apart. 

He felt Qrow stiffen slightly and sighed, cursing his always running, half-awake mouth.

“Qrow…. I’m sorry…pretend I didn’t say that, okay? I’m barely awake and just said something dumb to try to cheer you up…. Just…”

Qrow pushed back slightly and just watched Clover. And now his eyes were clearly sad. Loving, reverent. But sad. It was the look Clover usually pretended not to feel, knowing that Qrow didn’t like to dwell on it that much. It was the look that meant Qrow was having to re-convince himself that this was the right thing; that the joy of love was worth the risk of loss, for both of them. 

His voice was scratchy but still soft as he spoke, his eyes flitting over Clover’s face, as if floored by the fact that this was even real. 

“I love you. E-everyday. Every minute. Every wrinkle. Every grey hair… I… Clover…You are...”

The tears were threatening to spill over now, and Clover knew that later they’d need to talk about whatever it was, specifically, that had kept Qrow up that night, that had led to this. 

But right then that wasn’t the most important thing. 

He pulled Qrow closer to him again, Clover’s fingers gripping tight to the fabric of his shirt. 

“Shhh shhh shhh. I know, sweet bird. I know.” He pressed his lips firmly to Qrow’s hair, closing his eyes. 

“I love you, Qrow. Gods… Every moment with you is a blessing I will never know how I got lucky enough to deserve.”

Qrow pushed up to protest, but as soon as his face was level with his own, Clover pulled him closer by the chin, pressing their lips together. He would never get over the hitch in Qrow’s breath whenever he surprised him with a kiss like that. Or the way he melted into it moments later, Clover knowing that his eyes were rolling lovingly behind his closed lids. 

Clover pulled away finally, looking now at Qrow’s hair, as he carded his fingers through the messy, ashen strands. He smirked. 

“I’ll let you call me a silver fox now, if you let me call you my smokey bird.”

“Clover. That’s not even a pun. That’s just bad.” The chuckle in his voice was the most peaceful thing Clover would ever hear. 

“I’m tired. And old. Leave me alone.” He pouted playfully. 

“Not for a moment, old man.” A grin pulled at Qrow’s lips, his eyes narrowing. 

Clover kissed him again at that smirk - that irresistible smirk that made his crimson eyes shine devilishly. 

“It’s ridiculous how much I love you, you know.” Clover sighed, his lips ghosting over Qrow’s cheek. 

“....You really do, huh?” It was barely a whisper.

Clover steeled his gaze at the subtle apprehension, insecurity, in his husband’s voice. No matter how many times he heard it, it rattled him. And that was exactly why he reminded him so often; in the hopes that one day, it might be gone forever, but being fully content with repeating it as much as he needed to. 

“You have no idea.” His voice was deep, convincing, and he could see the calm wave of relief that it rippled through Qrow.

Now it was Qrow who kissed him, quickly, so very gently. His hand went back to playing with the hair at Clover’s temple and forehead, twirling loosely. His gaze was so close to that sadness from before. But there was the slightest difference. It was still soft, reverent, gentle, but now the sadness, Clover thought, seemed to be replaced by something close to gratitude. 

“You know, my silver charm, I just might.” 

Clover looked forward to every morning, for the rest of his life, that he got to see that smile.

[sheewolf85]

New Fic: My Monsters Are Real

“Call a doctor, say a prayer Choose a god you think is fair 'Cause my monsters are real, and they're trained how to kill” --Monsters; Shinedown

Kidnapping Edge and Slim’s significant other was a bad idea. You tried to tell them that. They didn’t listen.

Tags: Badass Reader, Polyamory, Kidnapping, but not of a kid, reader is taken, Violence, Hurt/Comfort, tough skellies being soft for their sweeties, gender neutral reader

Notes: Music is one of my biggest inspirations for fic. A song can spark and idea and I'm hopeless to do anything else until that idea is written. This is one such example. The song is "Monsters" by Shinedown. The song isn't exactly...this, but this is where my brain took me, because there's something so delicious about our boys protecting and avenging their lovers.

Read on AO3

Or read here!

The room was dark, shadows playing along the dimly lit walls as the three men in the room paced in front of you, gesturing wildly, angrily as they shouted at each other. They blamed each other for their situation, for all the little mistakes they’d made along the way. If the bearded one had just been a little more proactive, if the tall one had been faster in sending the letter, if the redhead had planned better from the beginning, if, if, if.

But the real truth of the matter was that they’d fucked themselves over the moment they chose you.

Their plan had probably been simple enough. They had enough decency to want to leave kids out of it, so they planned to kidnap the partner of the rich monsters on the hill for a ransom. Easy, right?

Well. No. Not considering who the monsters were. None of them were bound to cave to a little threat, and the men probably would have gotten off easy if they’d taken something with an actual monetary value attached like Slim’s sport car or Edge’s custom motorcycle, both worth millions.

You had known from the moment you woke up three days ago that you wouldn’t get out of this unscathed, but you would, eventually, get out. Your monsters had made that promise when you’d taken your vows. They couldn’t promise to protect you from any and all harm; that would have been irrational. You were married to some of the most influential monsters this side of the void; there were bound to be a few people who had it out for you.

You shifted a little in the metal folding chair you sat on, wincing as your shoulders cried out in pain. Your wrists were bound behind you, your feet tied to the chair with scratchy rope that had already left a rash on your ankles. You were going to enjoy a nice, long bubble bath when you got home, that was for damn sure. Hopefully one with bookend skeletons gently massaging all your sore spots.

“The answer’s pretty clear then, isn’t it?” the bearded one shouted at the others, turning to point at you with a dirty finger. “Just fucking kill ‘em. Get it over with. We ain’t gettin’ the money, I can fucking guarantee that, so just cut our fucking losses, cut their throat, and leave their body on their front lawn. Teach them a fucking lesson.”

You really tried not to snort at that. They could never understand the absurdity of that idea.

All three men turned to look at you. The tall one stalked forward, a mean scowl on his face.

“What’s so funny, bitch?” he sneered.

You licked your bloodied lips and lifted your chin. You’d already tried to explain to them how badly they’d fucked up, how much better off they’d be if they just released you, but none of them would hear it. They were all so convinced they knew what to expect from your monsters.

You maintained eye contact as you spoke, one of the first things that had pissed them all off. You were supposed to be a scared, meek little human who would cry in a corner if they so much as looked at you. How wrong they were. Your monsters had taught you better.

“You can do whatever you want to me, it really doesn’t matter.” Your voice was hoarse, little more than a scratchy whisper after no more than five sips of water each day. “They’ll get revenge for what you do to me. You have to know that. You have to see that it’s going to be so much worse for you if you kill me.”

The tall one lunged forward and slapped you across the face hard enough to send the chair rocking back precariously on two back legs before settling back upright. You felt the warmth of fresh blood as it trickled down your cheek.

A glint of something off in a dark corner caught your attention, and you only let yourself look that way as you spat out the chunk of lip he’d made you bite off. You didn’t let any emotion show on your face, but inside you were already sighing in relief. That tiny spark of burnt orange was your salvation. The subtler crimson glow in the other corner only meant double safety.

You smiled, never minding the pain in your mouth as you laughed out loud.

“I think you broke ‘em,” the bearded one said.

“Me?” you spat, sitting up as straight as you could. “You honestly thought you could break me? You have no fucking idea who my monsters are, that much is painfully obvious. Trust me when I say they’re going to find all the ways to break you, every bone, every spirit, every fucking molecule. You’ll be wishing they’d just have mercy and kill you.”

“You stupid fucking--”

Before he could finish his sentence, the redhead screamed out in pain and fell to the ground. The other two jumped back, horrified to see a glowing rusty bone sticking out from the back of his knee. Still writhing, he began shouting at the others to help him as they started to scramble away.

Oh, but they were so far beyond help. You couldn’t help but laugh again as Edge corralled them all. Slim appeared beside you, worry in his eye lights as he sliced easily through the ropes binding you.

“are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked, gently cupping your bruised face. His eye lights were so small they were barely visible, his anger so palpable you nearly shrank away from it. But this was Slim and that anger was not for you.

“I don’t know if ‘okay’ is the word I’d use right now, but I will be. I knew you’d come for me.”

He only nodded as he silently assessed your visible injuries. “‘course we did. ‘m just sorry we took so long.”

You would have waved his concern away if he wasn’t holding both of your hands in his, his fingers trembling as he ever so gently ran a finger over your chipped and cracked fingernails.

“Slim.” Edge stepped up to the two of you, his features simultaneously softening in his affection for you and yet tensing in his rage at seeing your state more clearly. “Take them to the cellar, please,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let me get them home.”

Slim clenched his jaw, his internal war visible on his face. He so wanted to stay by your side, but the idea of being alone with your captors was all too appealing.

You smiled as best as you could and gently squeezed his fingers. “Go on, Slim. I’m not in any shape to shortcut right now. Just...leave some for Edge, will you?” You added the last part with a nod of your head toward the three men wrapped in a glowing crimson rope, and if their agonized expressions were anything to go by, you’d say Edge had packed a little too much intent into it.

Slim huffed but nodded. He lifted your hand only half way, leaning down to meet it halfway and placed a gentle kiss to the back of it, careful to avoid the scrapes there. He stood up then and shook himself to loosen up a bit before going to grab two of them by the chins, forcing them to crane their necks too far to look at him.

“y’all fucked up, you know that?” he asked in a tone far too loose for how angry you knew he was. “but hey, it’s okay. it’s all good. know what my role was underground? i was the one who taught people lessons. they did bad shit, i taught them how to not do that anymore. so i’m thinkin’ maybe i ought to teach y’all some lessons. lesson one, anatomy. how many bones are in the human skeleton? two hundred and six. lesson two, how many bones can i break before you die? now that’s a good question. not sure i know that answer yet. let’s find out.”

As Slim spoke, Edge began tenderly gathering you into his arms. You kept your winces and groans to yourself. He knew you were in pain; he didn’t need to fear that he was making it worse.

“You need to breathe, Love,” Edge said softly. “Don’t worry about making noises. You can cry out if you need.”

You shook your head stubbornly; you wouldn’t do that to him.

He only smirked at you and rearranged his hold on you before taking you out to the car. On the way, you looked behind him in time to see Slim disappear with your three captors.

Ex-captors. It was finally over.

Edge settled you gently into the passenger seat of Slim’s Bentley, leaning over you to buckle you in before hurrying around to the driver’s seat.

Once home, Edge carefully carried you inside and set you on the couch. You melted into the familiar comfort of it as Edge went around getting things ready for him and Slim to care for you and your injuries.

Sitting alone on the couch, the silence of the room seemed to get louder with each beat of your heart. You had survived, as you’d hoped you would. You hadn’t let yourself get scared, not once, because you trusted your monsters to come save you. But now, in the safety of home with your monsters there to comfort you, all that fear finally bubbled to the surface without your permission.

Your stomach felt hollow and your chest ached with too much pressure. Your chin wobbled as tears gathered in your eyes. Why did you have to be weak? You’d been so strong for so long, why did you have to be weak now when your monsters would see it?

A soft noise caught your attention, and you looked over to see Edge place a try with some tea down on the coffee table. He hurried to your side, concern on his features as he gently touched your cheek.

“Love? What hurts the most? What can I do?”

You shook your head. “It’s not pain,” you managed to whimper. Yes, you were in pain, but none of it was causing this sudden rush of so much fear you weren’t sure how to contain it. “Edge...why am I scared?”

Instead of the confusion or unbearable hurt you’d been expecting, his features softened into an understanding you were sure was worse. He pulled you into him as gently as he could and wrapped his arms around you, holding you to him securely.

“You were so strong, Love, so brave, just as we taught you. You’re safe here, and you know it. You need to let these emotions feel themselves out. You were scared, but you didn’t let yourself experience it. I know, because I know you. It’s okay to let yourself be scared now.”

You nodded into his chest and ignored the sharp sting of scabs scraping against his shirt.

He held you as you cried, let you weep and wail into him as your body shook from the force of it. Slim appeared at some point, didn’t say a thing, only sat on your other side and wrapped his arms around you and Edge, encasing you in a cocoon of comfort.

You were going to be okay. Your monsters would make sure of it.

[air-bison-yip-yip]

@ritareigns suggested the following prompt: I hope this isn’t too boring but Edo teaching Ele how to slow dance - she’s never slow danced with anyone and Edo teaches her in the kitchen (or wherever u want I just thought kitchen would be cute cuz they bonded in Edo’s kitchen in the sleepover) I thought it’d be an intimate/cute moment for them :)

thanks for this prompt! it was so much fun and thank you to my lovely @nnegan13 for her words of encouragement + proofreading (also on ao3)

------

“You’re hopeless,” Filo announced dropping Ele’s hands and stepping away from her.

“Filooo,” Eleonora whined. “Help me! You promised.” Ele followed Filo out of the kitchen.

“No, Ele, you have no talent. I thought I could teach you, but you need professional help.” Filo told her. Filo walked back to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with a chilled white wine of some sort.

“I do not!” Ele stomped her foot in denial.

“You do, spider. You need to learn to follow. I swear,” Filo told her truthfully. “You just fight for dominance the whole time. You have to trust your partner.”

Ele stood looking at Filo with narrowed eyes. “I trust you fine,” Ele ground out. Filo scoffed immediately at Ele.

“I’m out, Ele,” Filo told her taking his wine into the room and shutting the door. Eleonora was left standing in the kitchen trying hard not to feel exceptionally annoyed at her situation.

Why did she even need to know how to slow dance ‘properly’? She was truly going to kill Silvia for having a theme that required such hardship. Eleonora knew that she didn’t have to dance. She could’ve sat it out, but then Silvia had looked at her with her big puppy eyes and talked about her birthday wish to have a formal dance with proper slow dancing and Eleonora was loathed to deny her anything.

Except apparently, she’s unfucking teachable, according to Filo. It’s not that Eleonora didn’t know how to dance. Of course, she did. But, uh, actual slow dancing rather than swaying just wasn’t her strong suit. She felt stiff and uncomfortable, and she didn’t understand why she needed to learn a box step anyways.

She had other skills. Other goddamn relevant skills to everyday life. Eleonora huffed into her room and sat on her bed, thinking of her options.

It wouldn’t actually matter if she couldn’t dance, but Eleonora didn’t like failing at things. And now she felt like a failure.

Ele groaned aloud and flopped back on her bed.

Nope, not happening. She was not going to pity her apparent lack of coordination. She reached out for her phone noticed it was well past midnight but decided she didn’t care. The party was tomorrow, well, today technically and she was going to learn how to slow dance.

She pulled up her favorites and pressed three holding the phone up to her ear, still lying on her bed.

“Ele?” Edo’s voice was muffled and scratchy, and she knew she had woken him up. She winced, even though he couldn’t see her.

“Hi, sorry, I didn’t think this through,” Ele told him, her voice a low whisper in return.

“Are you okay?” He asked a bit more urgency in his voice.

“I am absolutely fine. This is going to seem ridiculous now that I have woken you up.” Ele sighed. She heard movement through the phone and Edoardo cleared his throat.

“What’s going on?” He inquired.

“I need your help,” Ele told him hesitantly.

“Okay, of course. With what?”

“Well…” Ele started before rolling her eyes at herself. This is ridiculous.

“Ele?” He asked.

“Slow dancing.” Eleonora finally admitted. The phrase came out petulant, and she could hear the amusement lacing Edoardo’s tone in his reply.

“You need me to help you slow dance?” Edo asked. Eleonora decided she might just hurt everyone involved. She hated feeling dumb, she hated giving up control, and she felt stupid for making this phone call.

“Can you help me or not?” She ground out.

“Well, you’re in luck. I attended many formal dance lessons because of my nonna.”

“Really?” Ele asked and felt relief for the first time that day.

“Yes.”

“Great. Come over.” Eleonora demanded. She heard Edoardo chuckle on the other end of the phone, but she could tell he was getting out of bed.

“The lengths I go to for you, Eleonora Francesca Sava,” He teased her.

Ele laughed. “I’ll see you soon.” And hung up her phone. She glanced down at her pajamas, short shorts that barely peeked out over the oversized long sleeved shirt. Ele decided she didn’t want to change. She was comfortable, and it’s not like within the last month of dating Edoardo hadn’t seen her in various types of clothes...and states of undress.

She did go to the bathroom and brush her teeth, just for good measure, though. She was padding around in the living room when Filo re-emerged from his room, the wine glass from earlier empty.

“Why are you just lurking in our living room, Ele?” He asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m not lurking. I’m standing. You know, casually. In our living room. Like a normal day.” Eleonora winced at the awkwardness, and she knew that Filo was about to pounce for information.

Luckily, or perhaps, regretfully, their apartment bell buzzed before he could say anything.

“Well, well, well, who do we have calling at this hour?” He asked. Filo turned to the door, but Eleonora was quicker. She buzzed the door open and turned to face Filo, her back against the door.

“Go to bed, Filo!” She scolded. Filo just wagged his finger at her and Eleonora knew this situation was going to get exceedingly more embarrassing before it got better. There was a knock at the door, and Eleonora gave Filo a cold look. Filo, for his part, held up his hands as if surrendering, but the smirk was firmly in place.

Ele turned around and opened the door to see a sleep mussed Edoardo (one of her absolute favorite looks), and she shuffled back, pushing Filo with her butt to get out of the way to let Edo in.

Edo gave Ele a soft smile before turning to look at Filo with wide eyes at the pure Cheshire grin on Filo’s face.

“What can we do for you, Edoardo?” Filo purred. Eleonora wanted this to end immediately.

“Okay, Filo, out. Go to bed. Get your nightly wine bottle and go to your room.”

“Now, Ele, you are being so rude in front of our guest,” Filo replied.

“Filo.” She reprimanded. Filo stood waiting in the hallway, refusing to leave without having more information.

“You are so annoying. He’s teaching me to slow dance! Okay?!?” Ele kept from shouting, but just barely.

Filo began laughing, and Eleonora wondered how childish it would be to elbow him in the ribs. Edoardo stayed silent, but she felt his hand clasped hers, and his thumb ran soothing circles near her thumb. Ele leaned into his warmth.

“She’s fucking awful!” Filo told Edo, ignoring Eleonora completely.

“I’m sure she’s not that bad--” Edo started, but Filo talked over him.

“She’s bad. She can’t relax, and she steps on all your toes. I gave up like an hour ago.” Edoardo tried very hard not to smile, but Eleonora could see the twitch of his lips. She squeezed his hand once in complaint.

“Well we will give it a go and see what we can do,” Edo told him diplomatically.

Filo looked between both of them before deciding that the situation no longer amused him. He turned on his heel and walked back to his room, shouting “good luck,” before shutting his door. Eleonora slumped back against the wall of the hallway.

Edoardo shifted, his body caging her in.

“Hi,” he whispered, leaning down.

“Hi,” Eleonora told him before closing the distance and kissing him firmly. Her kiss was messy and demanding, and she tried to get out some of her earlier frustration out now. Her teeth pulled on Edoardo’s lower lip, and she felt him shiver.

See? She thought to herself. She’s great at many other useful everyday skills.

Edoardo pulled away, panting slightly. “We should dance, maybe?” He asked although she got the impression that he would consider the night productive if she hauled him into her bedroom and did other things besides dancing.

“Yes,” She grumbled. She grabbed Edoardo’s hand and led him to the kitchen, where she had her speaker. She played a mid-tempo classical piece and stood rigidly in the kitchen. Edoardo came to stand in front of her.

“Relax,” Edoardo told her, his hands coming to grab her waist. “This should be fun.” Ele’s pout grew, and Edoardo chastely kissed it away.

“Close your eyes, Ele,” Edo whispered in her ear. He pulled her waist closer to him. One hand gently wrapped around her hip while the other held her hand up. At the very least, she could stand like she knew how to slow dance. “All I need you to do is trust me,” Edo said.

Eleonora’s eyes snapped open at his tone. The teasing affection was still there, but a current of vulnerability ran through his statement. She swallowed, remembering their fight before their reunion that he was leaving her because she didn’t trust him.

She hadn’t then. She did now. But looking at Edoardo now somewhat off-kilter, standing in her kitchen past one in the morning, hair wild, and looking timid at his statement, she knew that maybe Edoardo didn’t totally know that she trusted him with everything. Her body, her heart, her soul.

She nodded gently and leaned into his body. “I trust you completely, Edo.” Edo smiled slightly, his eyes twinkled in the dim light of the kitchen, the soft music playing felt romantic and happy, and Eleonora thought that this might be one of her happiest moments.

It was a mundane one. It wasn’t a grand romantic gesture. It wasn’t anything particularly special. Perhaps, though, this is what made Ele appreciate it so much more. She knew, without a single doubt, that Edoardo would come over any time she asked it of him if he was able. That he would go to extreme lengths for her, with or without her asking. He was solid and warm beneath her fingers, and she felt cherished, always, but especially now.

She leaned her head against his shoulder. It wasn’t a proper slow dance form, at least she didn’t think so, but just this moment she didn’t care. She just wanted to be in Edoardo’s arms.

He kissed the top of her head and took a small step backwards. Before Ele could move her head, look down at her feet, ask a question, Edo gave her instructions.

“All you have to do is follow me.” She nodded against his shoulder and took a small step forward, mirroring his own actions. He continued this. He would take a step, and Eleonora followed. They continued for a few songs. She felt more comfortable. Edoardo would murmur whispers of encouragement. When the fourth song finally ended, Ele grasped Edoardo’s head in her hands, cradling his face. She gave him a soft kiss on the lips and leaned back to look at him.

Her Edo.

One day she would make sure that Edoardo knew with absolute certainty that she would follow him anywhere, to any place, for anything without a single hesitation.

But for now, she was content with wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug.

“Let’s go to bed.” She told him, pulling away and taking his hand, leading him to her room, watching him follow immediately and feeling joy at the realization that, he too, might just follow her anywhere.

[rational-mastermind]

Heya for anyone that’s been following along with what my dumbass has been saying, I’m doing a daily challenge for the entirety of the month. And some may have noticed I didn’t post yesterday or the day before. I was sick and wasn’t even gonna try to make myself write until feeling better. I’m still recovering, but I managed to feel well enough to write today. So here’s day 18. (18?? Shit, I need to catch up.) Anyway, day 18 with my oldest OCs, Malan and Matthew, from Whatever it Takes.

--

 “I don’t get sick!” I feebly protested, before my body betrayed me with another fit of coughing. “This is ridiculous!”

  “I’m sorry, Poppy, but there’s no denying it.” my little brother Dexter shrugged with a sheepish grin. “You’re sick. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Gosh damn..” I fell back into the pillows on my cot and sighed.

  When was the last time I was sick? Oh right. Sept. 13th, 8 years ago. Great.. My throat was scratchy, and I could only breathe through one nostril. My eyes started watering, but I tried not to let it too much.

   “Well.. At least I’ve got you to help me through this..” my voice came out hoarse and it hurt to speak. I tried to keep it to a whisper.

   “Actually.. I’m gonna be busy.” Dexter rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m needed in the infirmary.”

   “Oh.. Shit.” I sighed. “Well.. Then you go do a good job, kay?”

   “I will.” Dexter smiled at me reassuringly and then pulled the sheets around me. “You just try to get some rest, kay?”

   “Got it.”

   With that, Dexter gave me a hug and left. For the most part, I laid there, noting the way my skin was crawling, electrified with hypersensitivity, and the way that made the sheets feel even colder. Almost painful. I tried to shake it off and get some sleep, but found it difficult. If only getting sick didn’t have to suck so much.

   I had no way of telling how long I had been laying there, it must’ve been a few hours, but then the door opened and I was surprised to find my friend, Matt poking his head in.

  “Hey, Malan.” he greeted as he entered. “How goes it?”

  “Mmm..” I grumbled and curled away. “Matt, I don’t think you should be in here.. You could catch my cold.”

   “Ah, I doubt it. I never really get sick.” he shrugged. “But Dexter was worried about you, thought you’d like some company, so I came in to check on you.”

   In all honesty, I wish he hadn’t sent Matt. Matt was a good man. Tall, loyal, well built, a mess of dark brown hair that hid a good head on his shoulders, a caring heart. And for all intents and purposes he made it hard for me to really know how to feel. I felt like I could be honest and open with him, more so than almost anyone else in the rebellion, and yet at the same time I found it difficult to really put my thoughts and words together. It was hard to really decipher my emotions when he was around.

   For some reason a part of me felt embarrassed that he was here while I was sick, but I couldn’t understand why I felt like that. It was kind of frustrating, over all.

   “You really shouldn’t have…” I said.

   “Just relax, Malan.” he sat down on the edge of the bed and held out his hand to me.  I sat up and he handed me a couple of pills. I hadn’t noticed he was also carrying a glass of water and handed that when I took the medicine. “I’m just gonna keep you company while you rest up.”

   I sighed and gave him a skeptical look.

   “There’s no way to talk you out of this, is there?”

   “Nope.” he grinned.

   I shrugged and laid back down. Matt sat at the edge of the bed.

   “So how bad is it?”

   “Pretty bad..” I grumbled. “I can’t talk much.”

   “Ah. Gotcha.” Matt nodded. “Should I keep quiet then?”

   “Preferably.”

   “Cool. Cool.”

   It only took a short time but soon I could feel the medicine take its effect. My fever started to go down, and the hypersensitivity was replaced by a warm fuzziness that covered my skin. I still wasn’t comfortable though and kept tossing and turning. Matt noticed and chuckled.

   “Having a hard time sleeping?”

   “Yeeeesss…” I groaned.

   “Here, lemme help.”

   Matt turned into a wolf, albeit a smaller one, and stretched out across my lap, effectively pinning me to the bed. I couldn’t help the yelp which was soon followed by another coughing fit.

   “Dammit, Matt, don’t do that!” I scolded him.

   He just merely chuckled. The smug jerk.

   “Well, I thought it’d help.” he said to innocently.

   “You thought you could get away with this under the guise of just trying to help.” I huffed and tried to push him off. “And I don’t- hoolllyy shit your fur is soft!”

   The medicine was definitely kicking in. I’ll swear it to my grave that it was the only reason why I did what I did. And that is to say, that only because of the medicine, that I lost the rationale to not think twice before wrapping my arms around his big soft, furry body and leaning more into him, burying my face in his soft coat. He moved and adjusted so that I could lay down while enjoying the sensation, which could or could not be construed as cuddling by anyone else’s perspective.

   “See, was that so hard?” he hummed.

   “Mmm. Shuddup..” I mumbled, my senses slipping into a hazy fog. “I’s… Your fault…”

   “Oh is it?”

   “Yes.” I sighed. “I’s always yer fault..”

   “Like what?”

   “Mmm. Noo..” I didn’t wanna say. So I curled up into a tighter ball and buried myself more into his soft coat.

   We laid like that for a while, and once in a while he would gently nudge me with his muzzle, checking to see if I was awake or asleep. I started to phase in and out of consciousness when he checked in on me again.

   “Still can’t sleep?”

   “I dunno.. Too many thoughts…” I hummed.

   “Like what?”

   “Like.. Like I don’t.. know.. Why..” I yawned. “Why do you check on me? Why.. do you like me?”

   “Well cause you’re awesome. That’s why.”

   “But I’m not..” I sighed. “I’m really really not..”

   “Yes you are. You’re cool, and smart, and caring, and you’re always looking after Dexter. You’re strong, in more ways than one. Come on, Malan, you’re amazing.”

   “I’m so caught up with living in the past..” I simply stated. “I can never seem to move forward. I’m constantly afraid that what’s happened will repeat again.. I worry I’ll lose more loved ones, so I shove them away. But I’m terrified of being alone so I cling to Dexter so tightly, I fear he’ll eventually hate me.”

  “He won’t. And you don’t shove people away.” Matt tried to reassure me.

  “I can’t move forward. I’m stuck in this one place, living with this curse of memory day in and day out. I can’t stand being around others. This base. These people. It only brings back those memories. I can’t stand them because to me they all look the same. Just mindless people who decide it’s easier to follow orders and try to feel like they’re doing something worthwhile with their life, rather than realizing that every day another child loses their parents. And no one will stop for five minutes to realize that they kill more than they’re saving...”

  “Malan?”

   For just a moment, for once in my life, thoughts escape me, and I spaced for a solid few minutes. But then I managed to pull out of it, and chuckle a little.

  “S..sorry.. That.. got kind of heavy..didn’t it?”

  “Um.. A little?”

  “Yeah.. I um..” I looked up at him and then glanced away. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

   I realized then that he wasn’t a wolf anymore, but human. His arms wrapped around my middle and I was pulled to lay my head on his chest. I could hear his heartbeat and the gentle sound was immediately soothing to me.

   I recalled reading somewhere that our hearts try to synchronize with one another. And in doing so we experience immediate affection and comfort. Somewhere else once read that as infants we listen to our mothers’ heartbeat and it’s naturally soothing, creating a sense of ease and security.

  Whether it had anything to do with that, the medicine, or just simply being a woman wrapped up in the arms of a man she likes, sick out of her mind, I ended up falling asleep. I felt peaceful, and relaxed, and it was the best sleep I had in years. No nightmares. No dreams. Just this single moment of comfort and warmth.

  And when I woke up, it was over.

  He was gone.

  I was healthy in a couple of hours.

  And it was back to the norm.

[galaxy-parker]

Show A Little Loving (Shine A Little Light On Me)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Summary: Where you kiss Peter and then suddenly you’re dating him

Warnings: bad words, inconsistency, no editing

Word Count: 5K

A/N: to all the boys i’ve loved before au!

i rewrote this 5 times, i know it’s bad pls go easy on me life is hard ~~~

The day is already half done when MJ mutters the words under her breath, words that make your heart freeze in your chest and your thoughts clump together as if they were dipped in glue. ‘Flash is gonna ask you out.’

‘What?’ You whirl on her but the girl doesn’t dare to look up from her book. Her eyes roam over the yellowing pages and you glare at the side of her head. ‘How do you know?’

‘Heard him talking about it,’ She says with a certain nonchalance you wish you possessed. ‘Thought I’d let you know.’

Your throat feels dry and scratchy and you grab her arm, pulling her out of the way as a group of seniors barrels through the hall. She barely stumbles. ‘Yeah, thanks,’ You shake your head, trying to clear it from the incoherent thoughts threatening to drive you out of your mind. ‘I wasn’t sure he even knew I existed.’

The joke pulls a laugh from MJ and you let a triumphant smile slip onto your lips, but it falls twice as fast when you’re shoved into a locker. Michelle stumbles back, finally looking up and you wince.

‘Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there,’ Liz Allen doesn’t deign to slow her stride as she calls the apology over her shoulder, flipping her dark hair back in the process.

‘Yeah, it’s no problem,’ You mumble, but the girl is already far out of earshot and the words fall on deaf ears.

MJ loops her arm through yours and pulls you forwards. ‘She has got to learn how to walk.’

You grin. ‘Rich, coming from you.’ Your friend rolls her eyes and bumps your shoulder softly and you shake your head. ‘Liz isn’t so bad.’

‘Maybe not, but she has the same energy as a Kardashian and they are crazy,’ She casts her eyes to the ceiling before glancing at you briefly. ‘Besides, I think she’s the one who doesn’t know you exist.’

You shrug, unable to disagree as MJ pulls you around a corner and releases you. ‘We’ve only been in the same classes for three years.’

She laughs and begins to walk backwards, offering you a two fingered salute. ‘See you after class.’

‘Yeah,’ You raise your hand, watching as she turns on her heel and paces to her destination. You book it to yours.

You manage to slip through the door of your classroom mere moments before the hoard of popularity reaches it, and you take your seat in the back monotonously- just in time to watch Liz and her peers flood in.

You lean your head on a hand as their shrill voices flood your ears- you’re quite sure that one day they’ll make you bleed.

Someone dodges through the door behind them, their gaze snatching to you almost immediately. Peter Parker shoots you a smile and you return the gesture before looking away and letting your gaze catch on the window.

Peter Parker was the first- and only- boy you’d ever kissed, and he used to be your best friend but post-middle school for reasons having to do with his popularity and your lack thereof, you are now decidedly not. Thankfully he keeps it civil, but whether or not that has to do with the fact that you know he’s really Queens’ own vigilante you can’t say.

The chatter dies down quickly after your physics teacher walks in, but despite the interesting subject you can’t help but keep your focus on the clear glass pane before you, on what lies behind it.

It’s only five minutes before the last bell that you finally snap out of your stupor and bolt upright. The rest of your classmates are chattering away, all indulging in their own conversations. You let your eyes roam across people and faces and you realize with a jolt that everything is the same. Everything is the same as it always was. You wonder if it’s the same as it always will be.

The loud ringing signaling the end of the school day splits the air and it’s quiet for a moment until the sound of voices builds up once more, but this time accompanied with the sound of chairs scraping against the tiled floor. You wait for the class to drain of people before you stand yourself, pushing your chair against your table and following the river of people towards the school exit.

You grip the straps of your bag tightly and scan the crowd for Michelle, eyes jumping from face to face and searching for the familiar bundle of wild curls. You’re so focused that you don’t notice the scattered posters on the ground until you’re slipping on them and falling back towards the lockers. Your back connects with something equally hard and soft and you hear a grunt of distress that definitely didn’t come from your mouth before you’re falling back, farther back, towards the ground back.

You’d always imagined falling on a boy to be romantic, but you realize now that it kind of hurts.

‘Woah,’ Peter Parker catches your arm before you can meet your unwanted destination and you grin sheepishly, eyes cast up to meet his gaze.

‘Oh,’ You say, straightening yourself and brushing imaginary dust from your arms. ‘Hi, sorry.’

Peter furrows his brows but grins all the same, the warmth of his hand seeps into your skin and you try not to balk at his touch. ‘You should watch where you’re going,’ He says, not unkindly. You swallow hard.

‘Yeah, yes,’ You shake your head. ‘Uh, sorry.’

His head tilts down and he glances at you from under his eyebrows. ‘It’s okay,’ He cards his fingers through his hair. ‘Think you can walk yourself out without falling?’

You purse your lips and wrinkle your nose. ‘Yeah, I think I’ll be fine.’

‘You sure?’ He laughs, squeezing your wrist and your suck on your teeth and nod, humming in response.

‘I’m- I’m good, but thank you.’

‘Alright,’ He starts, and you think he’s about to say more until Liz walks by, effectively grabbing his attention and MJ pops up in the crowd. She’s smirking as you slip away, pulling your arm from the boy’s grasp.

‘Shut up,’ You mumble, taking her arm and pulling her towards the exit.

‘I didn’t even say anything,’ She laughs. You shake your head, pushing through the front doors and escaping the stuffy air.

You turn to look at her and she arches her eyebrow suggestively. You shake your head. ‘No, not even a little bit.’

‘Not even a tiny bit?’ She stops walking and you stumble at the sudden jolt. ‘Hey Ned,’

‘Hey,’ The boy pops up beside you and you startle, pressing a hand to your chest. ‘So, Y/N, you and Peter?’ He wiggles his brows.

‘No,’ You scoff, brandishing your hands in annoyance. ‘God, get out of middle school you two.’

‘Get out of middle school because our behavior is reflecting that of a child, or get out of middle school because that’s when you and Peter-’

You yell loudly, closing your eyes to try and block out the horrifying words. Ned and MJ burst into a fit of giggles. ‘You guys are so mean.’

‘And you’re so into Parker,’ MJ says, crossing her arms over her chest.

‘And you decide this because I fell on top of him?’ You bark out a laugh at the ridiculity of the situation.

The girl shakes her head. And Ned pipes in, ‘No it’s because you were looking at him like you were so into him.’

MJ points at Ned with a smile and taps her nose twice. You shake your head, opening your mouth to respond. ‘You-’

‘Y/N!’ Peter bursts through the doors behind you, clutching a paper in his fist and you wince. Ned and MJ smile devilishly at you.

‘Cinderella as fuck,’ MJ mutters and Ned snorts loudly, smothering the sound with his hand.

‘You dropped this,’ He jogs to meet you as your friends begin to shuffle backwards not-so-subtly.

‘We’ll just give you two a moment,’ Ned says, whirling around. MJ grabs his arm and pulls him away swiftly and you watch them go reluctantly.

‘Uh, here,’ Peter shoves the paper into your hands and you glance down at it and balk. His face sits scribbled on the stray paper in blue pen, next to it the doodle of a heart that MJ had tainted the piece with. It was only for reference you want to say, but the words lodge in your throat and you think you might scream. Peter scratches the back of his neck. ‘Listen I’m flattered, really, but I just-’

You hold up a hand, affectively cutting off his speech. ‘Shut up,’ The boy nods, swallowing hard and glancing down at his feet. Your thoughts race a million miles a minute. ‘I have a really good explanation for that,’ You start.

Peter chuckles. ‘I’d love to hear it.’

‘But,’ You continue, glancing over his shoulder to see yet another figure appear through the door. Your heart stops in your chest and then spikes up ten times as fast. ‘I actually have to go.’

You turn around, pacing towards the front gate as Flash strolls out of the school. ‘Wait!’ Peter says, but you don’t.

Two voices call out your name now, mingling together and laced with confusion. You want to crawl in a whole and never crawl out. Peter grabs your arm, pulling you to a stop.

‘Hang on,’ He shakes his head. ‘What’s going on with you?’

‘A lot,’ Flash spots you over Peter’s shoulder and a sudden, rising panic fills your chest. ‘A lot, I am very sorry.’

‘For what-?’ He starts, but you’re grappling for a hold on his neck and pulling him down towards you before he can finish. Your lips crash against his and his hands land on your waist. A confused grunt sounds from the back of his throat when you break away a moment later.

You glance over his shoulder to see a smoldering Flash, already turning on a heel and walking the other way. The panic in your chest resides. ‘Right,’ You pat Peter’s chest lightly and start to walk backwards. ‘Thank you,’ You say, then furrow your brows. ‘And, uh, I’m sorry.’

He’s silent for a moment and you take it as your que to leave, but he speaks before you can make your escape. ‘Wait,’ You stop in your tracks. ‘What?’

You shrug and smile sheepishly. ‘I’m not sure.’

He furrows his brows. ‘Y/N, listen I’m really flattered, I am but-’

You laugh. ‘Are you really trying to reject me right now?’

He scratches the back of his neck again, a bright pink stripe settling on his cheeks. ‘Yeah, I don’t think you really got it the first time so,’ He trails off.

‘I’m really not trying to date you, Peter.’

He straightens. ‘Huh?’

‘I don’t want to date you,’ You cock your head to the side.

‘Okay,’ He nods. ‘Okay, well how do you explain this,’ He holds the drawing up for you to see. ‘And this?’ He motions vaguely to his face, then yours.

‘I just-’ You clear your throat. ‘The drawing was for a reference and I needed to throw Flash off of my scent,’ You suck on your teeth and hold out your hand towards you, in surrender. ‘Sorry, for jumping you.’

His brows are still bumped together and you’re almost afraid they’ll never relax again, until he laughs and leans forwards. ‘You didn’t really seem to mind.’

‘Oh please,’ You scoff. ‘I would have rather kissed Ned.’

He twists his face. ‘That’s kind of rude, Y/N,’

You roll your eyes and flip a lock of hair over your shoulder. ‘Because he’s my friend and I trust him.’ You shake your head. ‘But it seems I didn’t have much choice at the moment.’

‘You’re kind of weird.’

‘Thank you,’ You take a step forward and snatch the paper from his hand. He let’s you. ‘I’m sorry again,’ You nod before turning and storming towards Ned and MJ, both doubled over with laughter. You glare at the pair of them.

‘Wait,’ MJ gasps. ‘Did you say you didn’t have a thing for him?’

‘Shut up.’

~~~

Peter only waits two hours to come banging on your door, hard and insistent like he knows you’re there, he knows you’ll be forced to listen to whatever he has to say.

You groan, pulling your comforter from your legs and sliding out of bed. You shuffle towards the door on sockless feet, each sharp knock feeling like a nail being driven into your skull. You open the wooden aperture with a sigh.

Peter is leaning against the door frame, head bowed and hair falling into his face. His hand is raised to knock again and you lean back. ‘What do you want?’

He glances up at you, the hint of a smile on his lips. His brows are bumped together. ‘Hello to you too.’

You breathe in deeply once more, steeling yourself and cocking your head. ‘What are you doing here, Peter?’

‘Can I come in?’ He asks, running his fingers through his hair- a nervous tick, you’d guess. You move away from the doorframe, motioning for him to enter and he nods, strolling past you. The door shuts behind him with a soft click. ‘We need to talk.’

You press your lips together and shake your head, crossing your arms across your chest. You tap your finger against an arm. ‘We really don’t,’ He laughs breathlessly and plops down on your coach, arms spreading out over the back of it. ‘Make yourself right at home.’ You deadpan.

‘Yeah I will, thanks.’

Your eyes roll on their own accord and Peter tilts his chin up. You join him on the plush cushion, perching on the edge as not to be too near to him. He clears his throat.

‘So, everyone thinks we’re dating,’ He starts and you shrug a shoulder.

‘Then set the record straight,’ You respond, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

‘Well, Flash will try and ask you out again.’

You furrow your brows and shake your head. ‘That’s not your problem, Peter,’ His head bobs up and down. ‘Besides, I can just tell him that I have a crush on you and he’ll leave me alone.’

‘Do you?’ Peter tilts his head towards you and bats his eyelashes mockingly.

You glare. ‘Not in the least.’

Peter scratches his nose. ‘Well that’s about to make this really awkward, then,’ He sits up straighter, laying his arms down beside him and faces you square on. You try not to feel intimidated. ‘What if we let them think we’re dating?’

You blink at him, the words barely sinking in. ‘I’m sorry,’ You shake your head. ‘I think I just hallucinated, what did you say?’

He laughs and his head bobs with the gesture. ‘What if we pretend?’

‘W-?’ You sputter, head buzzing with questions. ‘Why?’

‘Well for one thing,’ He grins devilishly. ‘When Liz found out you kissed me she went nuts.’

‘Oh, so you want to use me,’ You mutter.

‘For another,’ He continues. ‘It would give you some experience you know?’

You stare at him incredulously, then shake your head with a laugh. ‘Yeah, I think I’ll pass.’

Peter sighs deeply and leans his head against the back of the couch. ‘Y/N, please, for the sake of friendship.’

You brush your pants off, needing something to with your hands and stand up. ‘Hard pass, but thanks for stopping by.’ You wait for him to stand and he stares at you for a moment, nothing in his piercing gaze but hesitance before he gives in, albeit reluctantly.  

‘Alright,’ He says, moving towards the door. You follow closely behind. ‘I respect your decision.’

‘Thank you,’ You say, stopping by the door and pulling it open.

‘See you at school,’ Peter says, stepping through the frame. Doubt it, you want to say. You nod, sucking on your teeth and the boy turns, pacing down the hall. The door squeaks on it’s hinges as you push it closed, but you only get halfway through the task when your phone buzzes. You pull it free from your pocket.

A text from MJ flashes across the screen, bright and abrupt and it makes you want to drown yourself in your bathtub.

Someone told Flash that you kissed P on a dare, Your eyes roam over the black words, heart seizing in your chest. He’s still gonna go for it.

The urge to stomp your foot like a child fills your gut but you refrain, instead pulling the door back open and peering down the hall.

Peter waits by the elevator, bouncing on the balls of his feet. The lights of the lift flash brightly against the dimly lit hallway and- ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ You mumble to yourself before booking it down the hall. Peter turns at the sound of your pounding footfalls, confusion flashing in his gaze. ‘Peter,’ You say.

‘Y/N,’ He answers, turning to face you fully. ‘What is i-?’

‘Let’s do it,’ You say, shrugging. ‘Let’s just do it, okay?’

He grins and the sight makes your heart beat three times as fast. ‘Great,’ The elevator opens the moment the words leave his lips and he walks backwards until you’re on one side of the frame and he on the other. ‘What made you change your mind?’

‘I just did,’ The doors begin to close. Peter nods his head.

‘I’ll walk you to school tomorrow.’

‘Okay,’ You start to say, but the doors are already closing and suddenly you’re alone.

~~~

True to his word, Peter appears in your apartment complex the following morning, two cups of much too sweet coffee clutched in his hands. He hands one to you. ‘I got you coffee.’

‘Oh,’ You smell, the beverage and try for a sip. The flavours explode on your tongue and you think you may have to get used to Peter and his frilly drinks. ‘Uh, thanks.’

‘No problem,’ He takes a long swig of his own before taking a step down the street. You hurry to keep pace with him. ‘So gameplan,’ He says. ‘How much relationship experience have you had?’ He glances at you.

‘Right,’ You grasp the warm cup with both hands and inhale the deep scent. ‘Well, remember that time we kissed in seventh grade?’

Peter chuckles. ‘Yeah.’

‘That’s about it.’

His pace stalls for half a beat, the only sign of a startled reaction. He swallows hard. ‘Okay.’

‘It’s bad,’ You cast your eyes to the clouds and breathe deeply through your lungs. The cool air stings your nostrils. ‘I know it’s bad.’

‘It’s not that bad,’ He tries to reassure you. Then shakes his head. ‘It’s a little bad, but we can work with it. Just follow my lead.’

‘Follow your lead,’ You repeat. ‘I can do that.’

So when, ten minutes later, Peter takes your hand and slots his fingers through yours, you let him. And when he takes your empty coffee cup and tosses it in the trash can right outside of school, you let him. And when he holds the door open for you and whispers nothings in your ear as you pass, you let him.

‘You’re doing great,’ He says, voice low and you look at him incredulously.

‘All I did was hold your hand,’ You whisper back.

‘Okay, sorry for trying to be supportive,’ He rolls his eyes but it’s playful and you laugh, head tilting back. Peter smiles down at you, squeezing your hand. You squeeze back.

Convincing the rest of the school and your friends of the relationship is surprisingly easy, MJ and Ned shooting each other knowing looks. Peter hits it off with the latter almost immediately but MJ sticks to your side, whispering I told-you-so’s between breaths.

~~~

‘We’re gonna have to kiss at some point, you know,’ Peter says around a mouth full of pizza, you whip your head up to stare at him. The early afternoon light hits him perfectly, and you’re sketching him during your lunch hour when he speaks the words.

You purse your lips. ‘Why?’

He laughs, taking another bite. ‘Who’s gonna believe we’re in a relationship if we don’t kiss?’

‘Maybe we’re just private,’ You shrug, your pen drifting over the paper.

‘Doesn’t have to be much,’ He says. ‘Just a peck before class or something.’

You can feel your cheeks heat up at the thought. They shouldn’t, you’ve kissed Peter before. Twice before but still the thought of pressing your lips against his in a way that has to seem almost normal feels strange.

‘If you’re really not comfortable we don’t have to,’ He tilts his head down to meet your eyes and you press a smile onto your lips.

‘It’s- it’s fine, Peter.’ You lay your pen down. ‘Follow your lead, right?’

He smiles gently. ‘Right.’

The warning bell rings a moment later and you stand, shoving your things into your bag while Peter throws your trash away. You wait for him by the picnic table you’d been seated at and he takes your hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

‘Ready?’ He asks. You nod.

Peter’s lips are soft, you realize, now that you have time to enjoy it. His hand is warm against your cheek and your eyes flutter shut for half a moment before he’s pulling away again, and you’re stepping back.

‘See you in seventh,’ He runs his thumb under your eye. You don’t respond, too breathless to even blink but he’s gone before he can notice. You shake your head, wiping the dazed look from your face. Can you really do this?

But you soon realize that fake-dating Peter is easier than you think. The stolen kisses in the halls before class, holding hands any chance you can get and movie nights almost every weekend, more often than not.

But despite the sweet gestures and almost real feelings you can’t help but constantly feel on edge, just waiting for him to break up with you, tell you it’s over and it’s enough. But he doesn’t, and you don’t tell him any different. You barely notice three months pass until Halloween is right around the corner.

The sun beats down harshly on your back and despite the blinding rays of heat the air holds a chill that outlasts even what should be the warmth of a burning sun and you suppress a shiver, pulling the sleeves of your sweater farther down your arms.

It smells of mint and oranges and you almost forget that the piece of fabric used to be Peter’s rather than your own before you swiped it from his closet near a month ago. The frosty air had been too cool for your thin t-shirt, but he never did mind.

You pad up the concrete steps leading to the rusty doors of Midtown Tech and shove them open clumsily. They squeak on their hinges, the frozen metal making your fingertips feel like ice but the heat emitting from the school halls hits you square in the chest, banishing most of the excess cold from your body.

You can barely hear anything beyond the chatter of students, mulling aimlessly around the school until the warning bell rings. You almost want to join them until you spot a familiar mop of brown hair over the crowds, leading to a lean body leaning against your locker.

Peter’s back is to you, but that doesn’t stop him from whipping around when you’re close enough, a lopsided grin plastered on his face. You do your best not to start.

‘Nice try,’ He jokes, crossing his arms as you skip past him to open the metal compartment. You feel his eyes follow you the entire way through. ‘You should know by now you can’t sneak up on me.’

‘Ah, but you have an unfair advantage,’ You grapple for your textbooks, fingers wrapping around the worn covers and pulling them to your chest. You close your locker door with the swing of your hip. ‘Radioactive blood? I never stood a chance.’

‘Hasn’t stopped you before,’ He falls into step beside you as you swing your ratty bag to the front of your shoulder and shove the books inside.

‘Can’t blame a girl for trying,’ You shrug, a grin playing on your lips.

Peter rolls his eyes and pulls on the edge of your collar. ‘This looks awfully familiar,’ His voice is teasing and you catch the glimmer in his eyes at the sight.

‘Does it? I found it in a dumpster, it’s garbage chic.’

He narrows his eyes and grumbles, ‘You’re a jerk.’

You laugh, bumping his shoulder before you link your arm through his and pull him along through the thickening crowd. ‘I’m kidding, Pete.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ He stumbles after you, speeding his pace to match yours and squeezes through the classroom door beside you. You release his arm and take a seat in the back right corner of the class and he plops down beside you, eyes landing on the pretty figure perched in the front. ‘Is Liz wearing a new top?’

You narrow your eyes, looking the girl up and down before humming. ‘Think so,’ Peter glances at you. ‘Should I be worried that you notice that?’

He smiles, lopsided and boyish. ‘I notice a lot of things.’

‘Like?’ You press.

‘Like how this is the third sweater you’ve stolen from me,’ He shakes his head. ‘Am I ever getting them back?’

You pull the fabric over your fingers and grin cheekily. ‘Nope, say your goodbyes Pete.’

He snatches the edge of the sleeve and grips your hand under it, pressing his lips against the soft fabric. ‘Goodbye,’ He whispers dramatically. You pull your hand back quickly and shoot him a sarcastic grin.

‘You’re annoying.’

‘But you love me anyways,’ He winks.

You shake your head. ‘Gross,’ You mumble jokingly but Peter’s attention is already elsewhere. Elsewhere being the back of Liz Allen’s head.

You feel a twinge in your chest and look away. ‘You still on that?’ You ask.

He whips his head to you, eyes wide in question. ‘What?’

‘Nothing, nevermind,’ You try to backtrack, but Peter’s eyes are glued to you now, and they won’t let go.

‘Are you okay?’

You breathe in deeply, trying not to snap and turn to him. ‘Don’t you think people will think it weird that my boyfriend keeps staring at another girl?’ You emphasize boyfriend, as if it’s a foreign subject, one that you don’t understand. ‘Peter, we should stop this.’

‘What?’ He leans towards you, sliding his hand towards yours but your fingers barely graze before you’re pulling away. ‘Y/N, you can’t do this in the middle of class-’

‘Then I’ll do it after,’ You whisper. ‘What does it matter, Peter? This was bound to end at some point.’

He shakes his head, as if it’s the last thing he expected to hear and turns to the front of the class. Neither of you speak for the remainder of it, a heavy silence settling over you. It’s safe to say you bolt out of the room the second you’re able, and Peter doesn’t follow you. You don’t know why you wish he did.

~~~

You’re almost asleep when three sharp knocks against your window send your blood racing and your heart pounding. It’s dark, too dark to see and with the thin curtain pulled across the window pane you can barely see but a dim figure outlined behind it.

You slip out of bed quietly, grabbing a book from your floor and hefting it high over your head. Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you rip the curtain back with a flourish.

Peter sits perched on your fire escape, his mask in hand and he looks startled for a moment before a confused grin splits his face. You slide the window open. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Is that a book?’ He laughs, leaning towards you. ‘Y/N, what is a book going to do?’

‘It was the first thing I could find,’ You whisper harshly, stepping back and tossing it on your bed. Peter grips the top of the window frame and swings in, bouncing on his feet before standing still. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘We need to talk,’ He says, you roll your eyes.

‘No, we really don’t.’

‘Sounds familiar,’ he tilts his head and you glance away, trying not to think of how this horrid charade began. He furrows his brows. ‘Please?’

‘Peter, what is there to talk about?’ You breathe. ‘Flash lost interest, Liz is sufficiently jealous,’ You shake your head. ‘There’s no point anymore.’

He darts forwards and takes your hand, you try to pull away but he holds fast. ‘No, listen,’ He squeezes your hand, dropping his mask to the ground in the process. His eyes are filled with desperation. ‘There is a point.’

You glance up in ridicule, huffing out a breath and pulling away. ‘Well I can’t see it, Peter,’ You step backwards. ‘And it’s only gonna end up hurting one of us because-’ You choke on your breath, not daring to speak any farther.

The blue of Peter’s suit looks grey in the dim light, but the red is ever so bright. Peter swallows. ‘Because what?’

You shake your head again. ‘Because this is stupid, Peter. And hardly your typical relationship,’ You press your lips together tightly. ‘Please leave.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t want to see you anymore,’ You can feel your eyes brim with tears, whether from fatigue or heartbreak you don’t know. ‘I’m tired of being second best to- to someone who’s never going to see you that way,’ The words sting as they come out. ‘Go home.’

But Peter doesn’t move, he stares at you with nothing but pain until he’s surging forwards. Until he’s pressing his lips against yours in a very real way. Your hands clasp the back of his neck and his arms are tight around your back.

You’re kissing Peter Parker in a very real way, and you don’t think you want it to end.

But it does with a gasp and a grin. Peter nudges your nose. ‘You were never second best,’ The words are whispered against your lips like a prayer. You kiss him again and realize with a jolt that everything has changed. Nothing is as it was.

~~~

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