#why. . . why does this feel like it could be a conversation Cloud has with himself or that Aeris initiates?

[just-jordie-things]

if you look, you can tell - fushiguro megumi

word count: 6k warnings: swearing, i think that’s it summary: megumi finds himself eavesdropping a conversation between the rest of his classmates when he hears his name pop up.  the way you jump to his defense and have only sweet things to say about him has him second guessing the way he feels about you. ___

“It just doesn’t really make sense to me.  I get you guys are friends and all, but how can someone like you be friends with someone so…. Cold?”

Megumi was never really one for eavesdropping.  Not only because it was immature and would only cause drama, but because he’d never really felt a need to.  He can’t recall a conversation he’d ever stumbled upon that he deemed interesting enough to listen in on.  In fact, he’d rather find that everyone else was busy with conversation so he could slip out and do his own thing unnoticed.  A habit he’d picked up in his younger years when he still shared a living space with the white haired special grade sorcerer.

But for some reason, right now was different.

Maybe it was because he was the topic of conversation.  Maybe because Itadori, Kugisaki, and (y/n) were the ones around the corner.  Or maybe it was because something tugged on his heart strings when he heard Nobara’s admission.

He was headed to the common room to retrieve the book he’d left in there this morning, and hadn’t even realized all three of his classmates had the evening off from training and assignments.  He’d heard that they were talking as he’d approached, but didn’t halt in his steps until he realized they were talking about him.

“I think he can be nice,” Itadori defended weakly.  “I mean… I just met him, I guess,” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, realizing he didn’t actually have much evidence to back up his statement.  But he was too nice of a guy to straight up gossip about his new classmate.  “Maybe he’s just quiet?” 

(y/n) nodded thoughtfully, knowing this to be true.  She figured she knew him better than the two newbies, and that was why they’d come to her with their curiosities about the stoic shikigami user.  Having been born and raised in Tokyo, she’d been introduced to Megumi long before they enrolled at Jujutsu Tech.  Although their friendship hadn’t truly sparked until their enrollment, she’d known him enough to understand him, his mannerisms, his fighting style, his strict routine- all of these things that she’d never really thought twice about before, she now realized sort of made her the on site Megumi- Expert.  She even chuckled a little bit at the thought.

Because back then, back when she first met the grumpy boy that was thrust before her by one Gojo Satoru, with an eager grin and the promise of “Look Megs, a friend your age!” She would have never thought she’d be in this position now.

“Megumi has always been reserved” She agrees to Itadori’s comment, but her voice is distant, clouded with something else as her mind grows too occupied.

It took some time after their first meeting for Megumi to grow on her.  Understandably, because he wasn’t exactly looking to grow on her.  He wasn’t looking for friends his age- he wasn’t looking for friends at all, really.  Whatever disease that had riddled his guardian’s mind in order to have him setting up playdates with this girl must have been fatal.  Or at least he’d hoped.

Time and time again she was dropped off at the Gojo-Fushiguro residence, or at the park where they were expected to play.  Time and time again Megumi barely spoke, barely looked at her, and hoped his blatant disinterest would be enough to deter Gojo from setting up anymore of the stupid playdates.

And honestly, (y/n) never really knew when that changed, or understood why it changed.  Her lip was caught between her teeth now as she thought it over, trying to trace back her steps to find the point in time where their acquaintanceship blossomed into true friendship, which she could confidently call their relationship now.

“Yeah, does he ever let anyone in?” Nobara scoffed, but she didn’t mean for it to come across as harsh as it sounded.  She had just felt awkward whenever she was around the raven haired boy, not knowing how to fill the silence as easily as Itadori.  “It just doesn’t make sense to me,”

From where he stood around the corner, Megumi slumped against the wall.  This is when he should have walked away, and forgotten he’d ever heard anything.  He shouldn’t have cared what they were saying about him, and he shouldn’t have been surprised that the new students didn’t feel buddy-buddy with him.  But there was some invisible force keeping him firmly in place, and intrigue won over logic in his mind as he waited to hear the rest of the conversation.

“I get you guys are friends and all, but how can someone like you be friends with someone so…” Nobara trailed off, and Megumi felt his heart drop to his stomach.  

He shouldn’t care.  This shouldn’t matter.  But then Nobara finally found the word she was looking for, and Megumi had never felt an ache in his chest quite like this before.

“Cold?”

Cold? His mind clung onto the word, picking it apart viciously.  Is that really what everyone thought of him? Is that really the image of himself everyone perceived? Again, he supposed he wasn’t the most expressive person, it wasn’t like he expected them to be singing his praises, but he certainly hadn’t expected that.

Before he could convince himself that he was being silly, he found himself frowning.  Never before had he cared what anyone thought.  As someone who actively kept people at arm's length, Megumi couldn’t think of a time he ever thought twice about someone else’s opinion of him.

And just as he’s ready to scoff and walk away, forgetting his book once more and deciding to never think about this moment of weakness again.

But then (y/n’s) speaking up.

“Cold?” She repeats the word, and Megumi stops in his tracks again at the tone of voice she takes.  His brows furrow and he’s leaning against the wall again, trying to decipher what the emotion that riddled her tone was.  Anger? He wondered, puzzled.  Humor? 

Raising from his stomach like it had been brought back to life, his heart stutters in his chest.

“Megumi’s anything but cold,” (y/n) argues, in that same tone of voice that he’d never heard before.  She follows it with a chuckle that sounds anything but humored.  “He’s the warmest person I know” 

Really? Megumi almost laughs to himself before remembering he was trying to stay hidden.

“Really?” Nobara gapes back at her, and (y/n) nods furiously.

“Absolutely,” She declares, firm in her stance.  “I’ve never met anyone like him.  He’s one of the kindest, most caring people I’ve ever known, you just have to know him, I suppose,” 

Honestly, hearing her argument, Megumi’s not all that sure what she’s talking about.  But he continues to hover in the hallway, now dying to know more.

“Megumi’s not like everyone else,” (y/n) says, her voice softening as she tries to explain her old friend’s habits to her new friends.  “He’s quiet, yeah, he’s always been that way.  But he’s not cold.  He’s quite the opposite.  He… he has a really big heart…” She trails off, chuckling to herself a bit.

I don’t know about that, Megumi thought bitterly, only for his face to heat up at such a sweet accusation.

“He probably wouldn’t say the same,” (y/n) speaks his thoughts exactly.  “But it’s true.  Megumi shows he cares through actions, not words” 

“Ohh..” Nobara and Yuuji spoke in unison.

(y/n) giggled a bit at the both of them.

“He’ll grow on you,” She tells them kindly.  “It takes time, but… Megumi’s one of the greatest friends anyone could ask for.  I’m certainly lucky to have him in my life” 

If Megumi wasn’t blushing before, he certainly was now.  Even though no one was around to see, he found himself tucking his face into the collar of his jacket to hide the way his cheeks flushed with color at her openly affectionate words.

“Wow, (y/n), that’s really sweet,” Yuuji cooed.  “You must be very close, how long have you known each other?” 

“Well, a while,” (y/n) thought it over.  “Gojo tried to set us up as best friends when we were younger.  But I wouldn’t say it really worked till a year or so ago.  But I mean what I said, I respect him a lot.  He’s a really good person,” 

Really? Megumi smiled to himself at such a blatant lie.  She would think that.

“He always helps me when I need it, especially when it comes to training, or studying,” (y/n) goes on to explain.

Well, he supposed that was true.  But he just wanted her to excel in their field, she had so much potential, it was only right to help her when she needed it.

“And he is kind of a secret gentleman,” She goes on, dropping her voice as though sharing a secret.  “Even before we were close, he’d carry my things for me, or open the door, pull out my chair…” She trails off as she recalls all the instances.

Megumi nodded to himself, confirming that she was telling the truth.  But that was just the right thing to do, Gojo had raised him right in that area, after all.  You treat women with respect, but he also believed in treating people the way he wanted to be treated.  Those two things seemed to overlap when it came to her.  So again, he realized that (y/n) was right about him.  He was starting to wonder if she knew him better than he gave her credit for.  Or even better than he knew himself.

“There was one time when we were younger…” She smiles at the memory.  “We stole a cookie out of Gojo’s stash, he broke it in half for us, and then gave me the bigger piece” 

Nobara and Yuuji take note of the way her eyes glaze over with fondness as she remembers the day.  They hadn’t even been friends yet, it was one of the instances where she was dropped off and left with him for hours in the hopes of the two of them becoming friends.  In fact, that particular day, she’d spent most of the time flipping through magazines with Tsumiki.  Thinking about it now, however, (y/n) wonders if that was the first bridge between them.  The uneven halves of a chocolate chip cookie being a shared secret from the white haired man knocked out on the living room couch.  She makes the mental note to ask Megumi if he remembers it that way.

“Aww!” Nobara clasps her hands together as she fawns over the simple memory.  (y/n) can’t help but laugh a little at the way her classmates treat Megumi’s soft side.  “He must’ve had a ‘widdle crush on you!” She teases in a cartoonish voice.

Megumi’s eyes widened upon hearing the declaration.  Had he come across that way? His heartbeat picked up with anxiety, and he worried about what (y/n) would have to say next.

Because he certainly didn’t have a crush on her.  All those nice things he did for her, he did because they were friends, they were all things friends would do, right? Helping her with training, carrying her bag when she complained about her back hurting, cooking her dinner when she said she hadn’t eaten all day, taking her to that movie she wanted to see even though he thought it was predictable and cheesy- Megumi was sure that was just being a good friend.  Whether or not he wanted to do those things for her was out of the question.  

Just as she’d said- he showed he cared through actions.

Nevermind what he thought.  Nevermind if she was the prettiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on.  Nevermind if she had the kindest heart he ever had the pleasure- or luck- of meeting.  Nevermind if she proved time and time again that she was the most wonderful person through and through- 

Megumi thought he was going to throw up just thinking about it.  But he couldn’t help himself.  He thinks about her most hours of the day, he realizes now.  He waits for her to text him back, he wonders what she’s doing when he’s not around, tons of things reminded him of her.  That flower she pointed out in the garden, anything that was her favorite color, when it rained, when the sun was shining, hell, even his own shikigami made her cross his mind.

Fuck.

He shakes his head as he tries to ground himself back to reality.  None of that was really evidence of him having deeper feelings for her though, was it? He could care about her strongly as a friend, couldn’t he? How stereotypical was he for second guessing himself as soon as he cared about his friend who was a girl.  A pretty girl.  They were capable of being friends without romantic tension.

But then again, if she were to make a move, he wouldn’t exactly push her away, would he? 

His face feels impossibly hotter at the question he raised to himself.  What a tricky answer that was, indeed.  The gears in his brain began to malfunction and break down over how simple the answer that came to him was.

“I don’t know about that…” (y/n’s) voice softens as she trails off.

Something unfamiliar bubbles up in Megumi’s stomach.  It feels like he’s eaten too many sweets and washed it down with pure alcohol.  It’s bubbly, and sickeningly sweet.  It makes the tips of his fingers buzz and the corners of his lips tug into an uncontrollable smile.  He’s not sure if he hates the feeling or wants to chase after it.

“Well, you should ask him out!” Yuuji cheers.

“Wh- what?” (y/n) stammers back.

“I bet he’d say yes,” The pink haired boy says with a bright smile of affirmation.  “You’re definitely his favorite, and he stares at you a lot” 

I do?

“He does?” (y/n) asks, sounding a little breathless.  

Was she surprised? Horrified? Megumi couldn’t tell.  He was dying to see the look on her face, so he could get a proper read on how she was processing all of this.

“Oh yeah.  I see him staring at you all the time” Yuuji confirms.

“Me too” Nobara chimes in.

“Honestly, I thought you guys were dating when I first got here” Yuuji adds.

He did?

“You did?” (y/n) can’t help the small chuckle that comes out of her.  “Why?” 

“Dunno,” Yuuji shrugs.  “He stands close to you.  And most of the time when he talks it’s just to you.  I just thought it was flirting” 

No you idiot, I just don’t need anyone eavesdropping on- oh… Megumi drags his hand over his face, tugging on his skin as his eyes roll back.  Fuck, he was the biggest idiot on the planet.

Of course he had a crush on her.  How long had he not noticed? Or had it always been there? 

(y/n’s) giggling pulls him out of his train of thoughts.  Cute and bubbly, he can tell from their sound that she’s shaking her head in disbelief.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong,” She tries to deter her new friends from going down that path, but her voice has that same soft and sweet tone that Megumi hopes he’s not reading into when he thinks she’s hopeful that they could have it all right.  “We’ve known each other for a while.  I think if something were to happen it would’ve happened already” 

It’s quiet for a beat, and Megumi’s heart is pounding so hard in his chest now he can feel it in his ears.  It’s upsetting and distracting, as he’s dying to hear more of this conversation.  He worries he might’ve picked up a real knack for spying, but he can’t think of anything more interesting than this.

“You say that like you want something to happen,” Nobara teases.  “Are you the one with a crush?” 

With every second that passes before (y/n’s) response, Megumi frets he’s going to pass out.  He’s sure his body is going to hit the ground giving away his embarrassing eavesdropping.

“I…” (y/n) starts but trails off.  Megumi wishes he could peek around the wall and watch the scene unfold.  He’s sure that if he could see her, he could deduce her answer for himself.

If she was fidgeting, then he could confirm that she did, in fact, harbor a crush on him.

If she was standing still out of shock from the idea, then he’d know she thought the idea was preposterous, and there wasn’t a chance she felt anything more for him.

“I haven’t thought about it” She finishes quietly.

There’s some shuffling of feet and a distant hmmph from Nobara’s disbelief, or intrigue, maybe.  Either way, the conversation must’ve been done.  Yuuji was shouting goodbyes as he left the room to meet up with Maki for rigorous training.  Nobara followed suit shortly after, claiming she had nothing better to do so watching Maki train was the perfect way to spend her afternoon.

(y/n) laughed and waved goodbye to her friends.  Once they were out of sight she let out a shaky exhale.

Jesus, that was close, she thought as she finally made her way to the couch, ready to collapse and relax.  Her heart had been racing in her chest for the last few minutes and she needed a break from Yuuji and Nobara’s prying eyes.  She was sure they’d seen right through her, sure they’d been able to tell she was lying through her teeth.

Just as she was about to fall onto the cushions and let the couch take her into a much needed afternoon nap, she noticed a thick hardcover book had been left behind.  There was a bookmark sticking out of it halfway between the covers, but all of the pages before it were littered with small sticky notes.  She’d recognized it right away, if not for remembering this was the book Megumi had been reading all week, she’d deduce it was his from the heavy annotations.  She’d never met anyone who took reading as seriously as he did.

With a small smile she picked it up, deciding she could nap a little later.  He was likely wondering where he’d left the book after all, she was pretty sure he had the afternoon free.  On a mission, she heads out of the common room, while flipping to the first page marked by a skinny pink tab.

She’s so lost in reading the little comments he’d left on a larger note inside of the page- rather than actually reading any of the actual text- that she didn’t notice Megumi in the hall until she practically ran into him.

“Oh- sorry!” She yelped quietly upon seeing the tall figure in her peripheral.  When she looks up to see it’s Megumi, her shock melts into a small smile.  “Oh, Megumi! I was just coming to look for you,” She beams brighter, closing his book and extending it to him.  “This is yours, right?” 

Not knowing what to say, he gives her a shaky nod before taking the book from her hands.  He settles for a small thank you.

“No problem,” She replies.  “It was in my nap spot” She adds sheepishly.

Megumi chuckles, and he’s unable to keep himself from grinning.  (y/n) tilts her head at his bright smile, intrigued by the pure joy seeping out of him.  Her fingers latch together as a group of butterflies in her stomach begin to flutter in her stomach.

“Hey, I was wondering…” She starts, her brows pinching with uncertainty, but Megumi gives her his undivided attention.

“Yeah? What is it?” He asks, tucking the book under his arm.

He watches the way her fingers begin to fiddle.  He’s distracted by the nervous habit of hers, and his heart swells in his chest.  She was fidgeting.

“Uh, ah- it’s silly-” She starts to change her mind, but he shakes his head at her, too eager to hear what was on her mind to let her back out of it now.

“I’m sure it’s not,” He says boldly.  She must catch the way he looks at her in complete seriousness, because her eyes widen in the smallest amount.  “What is it?” He asks again.

Her cheeks feel warm, and Megumi watches in real time as a rosy tint flushes her face.  He can’t believe it took him so long to realize just how deeply he cared about her, because seeing her fidget and blush before him now, he thinks it could be his favorite sight of all time.

“D’you remember when we were little, and Gojo always made us have those playdates?” She asks with a small laugh that dies quickly as she’s overcome with bashfulness.

“Yeah, how could I forget that?” He chuckles back at her, his lips lifting into a fond smile, even though in most of his memories of that time, he was an irritated, angry little thing.  “What about it?” 

(y/n) opens her mouth to explain, but quickly shuts it and shakes her head.  A soft smile adorns her lips as her eyes fall to her hands, still fidgeting nervously.

“I dunno, I guess I…” She’s never struggled for words more than this moment, and she curses herself for acting like a shy little girl when she’s known Megumi for years, and she’s never quite felt like this.  “Do you remember when we became friends?” She rushes the question out, afraid that she’d say forget it and walk away with regret rather than feel a little embarrassment now and actually get an answer.

Megumi nods.

“I do” He responds right away.

“Like, actual friends,” (y/n) clarifies, sure that he spoke too soon.  “Not just kids dropped off at a playground for three hours and being expected to play together, I mean, like, real friends” 

Megumi nods again.

“I do,” He repeats, this time with a small chuckle.  “You don’t?” 

(y/n) chews on her lip as she shakes her head.  Her brow furrows in the slightest, curious as to how he has the better memory of the two of them.  Amused, he smirks at her.

“Well?” She asks impatiently.  “What changed?” 

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” He teases softly, making her roll her eyes.  “You’re hurtin’ my feelings, (y/n/n)” 

“I didn’t know you had feelings, ‘gumi,” She retorts playfully.  “But c’mon, tell me” She pleads sweetly, her eyes glittering with anticipation.

His eyes flicker between hers for a moment, swept away with the way she looked at him.  It dawns on him that if she asked him any favor this way, he’d comply without hesitation.  Her complete attention was on him, and he swore there was something in her eyes he’d never seen before.  Or perhaps he’d just never noticed it.  It was soft, but there was a depth there that he was aching to explore further.

“It was right before we came here,” He finally indulged her, his voice quiet like he was revealing a well kept secret, rather than a memory they actually both shared, even if she’d forgotten it.  “The weekend before, actually.  When we were moving into the dorms, you remember that?” 

(y/n) nods at the general memory.  She thinks she recalls making fun of him for listening to Weezer while unpacking in the room right across from hers.

“Gojo let us stay one night early.  Probably so he could have his place to himself,” The thought dawns on Megumi a little late, but he chuckles realizing it now.  “But at the time it was cool… cause we’d never been on our own before” 

“Right,” (y/n) smiles as she thinks about it now.  That first night on her own in her own space had felt so special, so exciting.  It was almost humorous how normal it felt now.  How her space felt completely her own.  “I almost forget how it was just you ‘n me for a bit here” 

“But you don’t remember the first night?” He asks.  A smile line creases between (y/n’s) brows as she racks her mind for the rest of the memory.

Making ramen noodles in the kitchen far too late in the night because she couldn’t sleep.  Pacing around the corridors and snooping where she shouldn’t have.

“You woke me up,” Megumi chuckles.

Realization dawns on her in the form of an embarrassed smile.

“Oh,” She muses softly.  “Right… I couldn’t sleep and… I was bored” 

“You begged me to get up with you, it was torture,” Megumi reminded her.  “And then you made me watch a movie with you, that dumb 80s movie you like that was way too long- and you didn’t even stay awake through it” 

“Okay okay-” (y/n) tries to dismiss him with a wave of her hand, but Megumi continues.

“But you talked through most of it anyways,” He speaks over her before she could get him to shut up.  “You said you were scared” 

Her eyes widen, and the story he’s telling sounds vaguely familiar, but truthfully she’d been so exhausted that night she couldn’t really remember the specific details all that well.  But she did remember waking him up in the middle of the night, so she’s surprised he’s able to recall this random moment from a year ago so easily.  Maybe his memory was just better than hers.

“I… I did?” She mumbles.

Megumi nods back, with his focused eyes set on hers.

“You said you were scared of failing,” His voice grows quiet again.  “You said you… you were scared of not getting stronger,” 

Despite this event having happened so long ago, (y/n) feels embarrassed now, and she can’t believe that Megumi’s clung to this memory in particular.  She almost wished she hadn’t asked, because she could’ve lived in peace never having known she’d revealed such a massive insecurity to him.

“And then you told me that you thought I was strong,” Megumi continues, a smile curling on his lips.  “And you asked if I’d help you get strong like me, too,” 

She’s sure she must be seeing things when she notices color flush his cheeks.  Because there was no way Fushiguro Megumi was blushing in front of her right now.

“Then you passed out on me and I was stuck watching the rest of the dumb movie so you wouldn’t wake up” 

“You watched the rest of the movie?” She asks softly.  He chuckles at her, and nods his head.  “I can’t believe I don’t remember any of that” 

“You were pretty tired,” He shrugs back in understanding.  “And it was a while ago, I wouldn’t have expected you to remember all of that” 

“I see…” (y/n) mumbles to herself.  She drags her lip between her teeth as she stays quiet for a few moments.

“And by the way,” He steps forward, catching her attention again as her eyes snap up to meet his, suddenly aware of the small space left between them.  “I do kinda stare at you a lot” 

Her face lights up with so much heat she thinks she’s going to combust.

“You- you heard that?” She squeaks out.

“And then some,” Megumi nods back.  For some reason, he doesn’t feel weird about shamelessly admitting that he’d been listening in on her conversation.  “Did you mean all of that?” 

Her mouth opens and closes a few times as her previous conversation comes back to her in waves.  The longer she thinks about it, the hotter the back of her neck grows.  He’d listened to all of that? He heard her ramble on about him? And had he heard that last part-? 

“I mean, y-yeah, yeah,” She stammers over her answer, accompanied with an awkward nod of her head.  “Of course I did” She says surely, but her voice is a mere whisper.

“Even that last part?” He asks, shuffling forward again.  Her eyes track the movement, bewildered by his sudden closeness, but she doesn’t dare put space between them.

“Last part?” She repeats, dumbly.

“Yeah,” Megumi nods, and he can’t help but reach out and trace his thumb under her jaw, ghosting over her skin with a touch so light she almost leans into it to feel it properly.  “You know, the part where you said you hadn’t thought about it, about me,” He reminded her, even though she remembers fully well what he was referencing.  “You meant that too?”

She swallows thickly.  The intensity of his eyes on hers was too much to bear, she could almost crumple to a heap on the ground, but her body is rigid, firmly planted before him by the pad of his thumb under her chin.

“No,” The word comes out in a whisper so soft Megumi wouldn’t have caught it had he not watched it fall from her lips.  “No, I didn’t mean that”

A smile twitched on his lips, and he could see her hands fidgeting again.  Just as he thought, he beamed as he met her eyes again, she felt it, too.

“What did you mean to say, then?” He asks the question that’s been lingering on his mind like poison being held in the back of his throat.

Her eyes wander to his lips as she realizes he’s been moving in impossibly closer.  She’s hoping, no, she’s sure he’s going to kiss her, but he wants his answer first.  Rightfully so, she supposes he’s been waiting to hear it, and if she was honest she was dying to get it off her chest.  But the prospect of so blatantly telling someone how you feel has her shifting her weight nervously.

“I meant…” She mumbles, snapping her eyes up to his when she thinks she’s stared at his lips for too long.  “I meant I have thought about… something more…” Her voice raises and drops in volume as she makes her confession weakly.  It’s certainly not a bold, romantic movie moment, like she always thought she’d have some day.  It’s timid, quiet, and a bit awkward on her end.  She clears her throat.  “But they didn’t need to know that” She says, a small giggle escaping her.

“No, ‘spose not” Megumi’s lips curled into a smile that had her nerves settling, comfortable again in his presence.  Although she’s sure she could never be truly uncomfortable with him.

“So… spying on your friends these days, hm?” (y/n) asks, tilting her head at him curiously.  She means for her tone to be playful, but it comes out in a whispery soft.  “That’s a bit out of character for you, Megumi”

Despite his warm face and stuttering heartbeat- he might need to go to Shoko, the irregular pace was becoming a concern- Megumi chuckles at her, and his smile doesn’t falter.

“When else was I gonna get to hear you say all that nice stuff about me?” He hums, effectively burning up her cheeks as well.  His thumb traces gently over her chin, his eyes following the movement fondly before meeting hers again.

Megumi had never really been a touchy person.  (y/n) could probably count on one hand the amount of times he’s ever touched her, and the first three instances that pop up in her mind revolve around him rescuing her ass when she was being reckless on an assignment.

“I liked the part where you said I was a gentleman,” He beamed a little brighter, and (y/n) had to grind her teeth into the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot.  “But for the record,” He moves closer, and her eyes grow so round as she stares at him that they almost burn from her lack of blinking.  “I’m lucky to have you, too,” 

Her jaw loosens and her teeth no longer have a grip on her cheek, allowing for a sweet smile to stretch across her lips as she takes in the fond words.

Just as she thought.  He was the warmest person she knew.

“And,” He continued, his eyes moving between hers as he took in how pretty she looked when she was in a state of surprise, “You are my favorite” 

She laughs again, breathless and quiet before she rolls her eyes with nothing but fondness.

“I know,” She murmurs, narrowing her eyes in mock annoyance.  The smile on her lips was too sweet for him to think she was giving him anything other than her entire heart on a platter.  “Must be a side effect of your staring problem”

He tilts his head down, simultaneously lifting her jaw with a tender pull of his thumb, but just as his nose brushes over hers, he seems to remember his manners, and he can’t have her go thinking he’d dropped the gentlemanly side of him she seemed to appreciate so much.

“Can I?” He murmurs, his lashes rising and falling as his eyes travel between her gaze and her lips.  “Kiss you?” He clarifies.

And she almost laughs.  She wants to giggle and grab him by the shirt and smash her lips against his in a feverish, passionate kiss.  But her breath is caught in her throat, she can’t quite find her voice, and her fingers seem to have magnets clinging them together because she’s frozen before him.

So all she can do is shut her eyes and give the faintest nod of her head, barely pursing her lips before his are pressing against them.

Every muscle in her body relaxes as she’s flooded with warmth.  Her posture loosens up and even her hands pry apart as she finally finds the strength to lift them, setting them gently on his shoulders.  

His lips are surprisingly soft, even when she presses closer and kisses him deeper, they feel nothing but tender.  She feels light headed from how sweetly he kisses her, his free hand, the one that isn’t holding his book, splays across her cheek.  The tip of his index finger barely ghosts along her earlobe, before tracing down her jaw, and back up again.

She was damn near about to raise her foot like the girls in the movies do when they’re swooning over their true love’s kiss.  That shit was no joke.

When they part, she’s smiling at him again, and he’s mirroring her expression.  It takes her a minute to will herself to open her eyes, and her hesitation makes Megumi chuckle.

“Next time, I’ll let ‘em know you’re a good kisser, too” She mumbles, in a bit of a daze, as he could tell.

“Oh will you?” He teases quietly.

She nods, leaning her cheek into the comfort of his palm.  Her cheeks flush before she crinkles her nose, second guessing her previous statement.

“Well, maybe not right away” She mumbles, and he chuckles at her.  

The apples of his cheeks are bright, his smile is toothy, and his eyes sparkle with every lovely feeling humanly possibly, all held for her.

“Maybe not right away” He agrees in a soft voice, before tilting forward again, his thumb swiping gingerly across her cheekbone.  

She swears she could melt into the way his low voice comes out in a whispered husk against her lips.  Her eyes are already fluttering shut again.  His lips brush over hers sweetly, gently, as though for the first time.  She returns the tenderness, her fingers reaching up and ghosting along his sharp jaw, twitching with anticipation to touch more.  The desire to grab him by the face and crash their lips together is still a thought in the back of her mind, but she sets it aside for now.  She thinks he’ll make the time for her to do so later.

And suddenly Megumi believes her.  He believes all the kind things she’d said when coming to defense.  He believes he is warm, and he is caring.  But he only believes it because she made him so.  He thinks he’ll have to tell her, at some point, but it could wait for another time.  They were bound to have time ahead of him where he could spend hours on end returning the favor, and sing her praises until his face is blue and hers is pink. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Led by candlelight

Blurb: You and Eddie are close- closer than what most people call ‘friends’ and there’s no hiding the affection for you have for one another… despite what your peers say about you.

Pairing: Best friend!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Book a dental appointment because your teeth are about to rot from how sweet this shit is.

-

divider by @cafekitsune

You and Eddie grew up together, your parents regularly said hello to one another and engaged in riveting conversation from time to time and you would always seek Eddie out on the playground. Even back then you two were inseparable. You would always long to hold his hand, just because you could and he would let you. He would always let you.

High school hasn’t been kind to Eddie, the long hair adoring his handsome face wasn’t for everyone’s taste. No one cared that tattoos are only a form of self expression and that they don’t automatically make you a ‘devil worshipper’. Jean jackets were considered ‘poor taste’ and overall your peers treated him like trash- he was the freak of Hawkin’s High… and it shattered your heart to see him commit to the role, because you knew him. You knew how hard he had it, his home life and everything in between and you saw right through his act. You saw his pain.

Eddie never let the tormenting affect his mood when he was around you. You were his sweetheart and he would be willing to bow down to death himself if it meant he could see a smile grace your face. He opens doors for you, he’ll pry your dented locker open for you whenever you need your books for your next class, he’ll walk you home- right to your front door! And he won’t leave until you get inside safely. Sometimes, he’ll even surprise you with underground concert tickets, even when he can’t afford them, just because he knows how much you love music and how you are always longing for a little bit of trouble and rebellion. He looks after you when you guys watch horror movies together, holding your hand and passing you pillows to use to block your vision from the screen when things get a little too frightening- And yeah, he laughs at you and he teases you about it but he treats you with such kindness that it makes your heart swell to even think of it. Kindness that he deserves to feel, too.

So, tonight, you decide that you want to show him how thankful you are for him. For everything that he is, and that he represents and everything that he does for you. You have Robin and Steve arrange a get together with Eddie, but in reality it’ll be you there instead at the location- ready to surprise him. Eddie thinks that they are going to explore a creepy abandoned house just out of Hawkins but when he gets there he’ll be met with a home cooked meal, lit by candlelight. In the past months, and in your years of knowing one another, you’ve come to notice that Eddie doesn’t cook. Not for himself, not at all, really and you can’t help the tears that prick your eyes when you think of your best friend, who you love so much, living and eating from cold tinned food every night. He deserves more. He deserves the world and you wish you could give it to him.

You are serving him ‘the world’ in the form of some red wine that you stole from your dad and some spaghetti bolognese. You chose spaghetti for 1 of 2 reasons. Number 1 being that everyone loves spaghetti, and number 2 being that it’s a pretty hard dish to fuck up- so it was the safest option. Plus, you paired it with garlic bread which you know Eddie is an absolute sucker for. He loves it when you bake some for your regular movie nights together so it would be borderline criminal to not supply some.

The clock is ticking and you are starting to get nervous. Darkness has clouded the sky as it succumbs to the night and you’re beginning to wish you brought more than three candles. Nonetheless, they do provide a gorgeous warm glow within the house which you still can’t wrap your head around why no one is living here. It is quite remarkable on the inside.

You take a few deep breaths, your mind clearing as you wait to see Eddie’s vans headlights glare through the foggy windows, which they do, sooner than you had expected and now you are contemplating on bolting out of the back door and sprinting away. You pace back and forth, the worn out floorboards creaking beneath your feet as you fight to regain composure. This is just Eddie, your Eddie- the Eddie you adore. He won’t hurt your feelings.. he won’t laugh in your face. It’s Eddie…

The front door whines on its hinges as Eddie enters inside, causing you to stop in your tracks like a deer in headlights. Dried rose petals decorate the floor leading to the small table you had acquired especially for this occasion and Eddie’s jaw hangs loose at the sight, his voice clearly having abandoned him.

“S.. surprise!!” It’s hard for you to smile with how nervous you are, your face keeps on twitching and Eddie can sense your discomfort, however, he can gauge that this is a different type of discomfort. You’re really anxious, “I cooked.. for us! It’s nothing fancy but I thought hey! Maybe Eddie will really like this and.. and so I just threw this together because well.. because uh.. I..” in your panic you hadn’t even noticed Eddie secure the front door and walk towards you, but he had, and now he is standing with his arms wrapped around your shoulders and your head resting against his chest.

You sigh softly, the smell of his cologne immediately acts as a relaxant and you feel like you can finally breathe in his embrace, “I want you to know how much I care about you.” You admit, your soft voice muffled by your busy buried in his t-shirt. Eddie holds you there for a moment, stroking your hair before he pulls away to see your face, his eyes searching yours.

“I already know, Sweetheart.” His ring clad thumb swipes across your cheek, “I have always known. You’re my person, remember? And I’m your Eddie. Always.” Your eyes flutter closed as you lean more into his touch, nodding meekly in agreement with him. Your heart has calmed in your chest and you suddenly get a whiff of the hot food waiting for you both on the table.

“You brought garlic bread, right?” Eddie quips, a grin forming on his face, “Cause’ if not then I’ll have to draw the line in this friendship.” You nudge his shoulder lightly, giggling at his remark as you pull a tinfoiled plate from your picnic basket.

“Do I look like a sadist to you? I would never see my Eddie go without his beloved garlic bread. Never!” Your hand finds your chest as you mime defensiveness and Eddie’s head falls back as he laughs, taking a seat at the tiny table across from you.

“Y’know, if I had know that you would be here waiting on me.. I would have dressed up a bit more.” He plucks at the Hellfire t-shirt that he is wearing and you look at him, doe eyed and oblivious.

“But you look great.” Your smile is so sincere and warm that it makes Eddie’s knees weak and he has never been more happy to be sitting down than he is right now. He wish you knew the affects you had on him.

“And you look stunning, Dove.” He glances at your outfit, “As always.” He quips with his classic Eddie charm and you begin to peel the tinfoil from the plate in your hands, trying to hide the growing heat on your face.

“Stop it.” You don’t mean it- you never do. You place the plate on the table, perfectly situated between the both of you and you hope that the garlic bread is enough to distract him from your love-sick grin, but it isn’t, “The food might be a little cold, I do apologise.”

“This is fine dining compared to what I usually have,” He twirls his plastic fork in the dish, “You don’t have to worry about me all the time.” He takes a gracious fork full of the spaghetti, a string of pasta slapping his face on the way in which causes your mouth to erupt in a fit of giggles.

“Holy shit-“

“What? What is it?” Your smile fades.

“This is fucking delicious!” Eddie rolls off of his chair, parading around the room before he suddenly comes to cup your face in his hands, “You are a miracle worker!” His lips press against your forehead and a confusion stricken look possesses your face as Eddie bursts into uncontrollable laughter.

“What? What did you-“ Your fingertips swipe at your forehead and when you glance at them you see the red sauce staining your skin, “Eddie!” You pout at your best friend who is laying on the floor, his arm shielding his face as he chuckles relentlessly. You can’t take it, you have to retaliate and the only thing nearby? A piece of the garlic bread. You launch the delicacy at him and an eerie silence fills the room as the bread thuds onto the floor, but you don’t get scared, you get excited. You get so pumped with butterflies that you are already on your feet and ready to run away from him if need be.

“Was that- the garlic bread?!” Eddie bounces up to his feet, his eyes wide with shock as he looks at you, “Ohhh, ohhh- Now you’ve done it. Wrong move, princess.” He glances at the spaghetti and your heart drops. Your fight or flight kicks in and you are running away from him before he has the chance to cover you in spaghetti and meat sauce. You are in a fit of giggles as you fight to climb the raggedy old staircase, your feet nearly betraying you as you reach the top. Looking down to see Eddie closing in behind you laughing as he does.

“I’m sorry, Ed’s! I’m sorry!” You’re squealing as he corners you in one of the empty rooms, your hands outstretched in front of you to try and keep him at arms length.

“You insult the bread… you insult me.” He shakes his head, his curly brown hair bouncing as he does, “How could you do this?” His eyebrows scrunch and his lips downturn into a frown as he attempts to trick you into feeling bad, “I thought we were friends-“ He sniffles before he makes a sudden movement toward you, ready to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, however…

“Wait! Wait!-“ you scream, stopping him in his tracks. He quirks an eyebrow and his hands land on his hips ,”I brought dessert.”

He takes a step away from you, “I’m listening.”

You’re choking on your own laughter as you try to think of an escape plan, however in moments like these, when you are faced with Eddie Munson- you just have to go with the flow, “It’s called, ‘eat my dust’.”

You sprint past him and you hear him groan behind you as you leave him standing in the room but it doesn’t take long to hear his footsteps thumping toward you. Eddie is faster than you, but you got a head-start.

This time, when Eddie catches up to you, he avoids negotiation all together. Grasping your waist he flips you up and over his shoulder, carrying you back to the main room where your dinner has definitely gotten cold. You thrash in his arms, swaying back and forth with every step that he takes and eventually you give in. You accept the fate of the sauce.

Eddie plonks you down on your seat and you squeeze eyes shut, bracing for impact… but the impact never comes. You reopen your eyes to see Eddie looking at you, his brown eyes are rounded and they reflect the love you carry for him. He is kneeling on both of his knees in front of you, his hands in his lap.

“I wanna tell you something…” He trails off and your heart sinks to your stomach, this sounds serious, “Gorgeous.. I have loved you since we were 9 years old. Hell! I probably loved you before then, too. And.. and you don’t got to say anything but you should know. You deserve to know that I, Eddie Munson, am in love you with. Hopelessly in love with you. I’d do anything for you- but I just couldn’t keep this from you. Not anymore…”

Silence wrapped around you like a thick blanket, caging any words deep within your chest- but you were going to tell him, even if it choked you to death, even if it fucking killed you- you weren’t going to let him walk away.

“I love you.” Your voice is a wheeze as you fight to let the words free, “God, I have loved you for so long, Ed’s.” Tears glisten in your eyes at the intense wave of emotion that consumes your entire body, “You are the only person I ever want to be around. The only person who knows me- truly knows me and.. and I want this. I want us. Forever.” Your vision is blurred but you smile at him, hoping that he is smiling too, and once the tears fall from your eyes you realise that he is. He is beaming.

“Us? Forever?” He edges closer to you, coming to rest between your legs, “I’ve never wanted anything more, baby.” And just like that, the kiss you have dreamt about, wrote about, fantasised about- is happening. It’s happening and you could float with total happiness.

You and Eddie. Forever.

It has a nice ring to it…

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas (lmk if you want added!)

[nashusglasses]

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.**.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.**.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.**.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.**.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

(background to this nsfw drabble)

thinking of marriage of convenience AU with jing yuan and general’s daughter!reader from xianzhou yuque. a rogue sect of the disciples of sanctus medicus try to execute a plot to destroy a jade abacus warehouse on the yuque—important machinery is destroyed, two critical injuries reported, one death—and intra-alliance tensions among the populace start to boil over. arrests are made. citizens are scared. general yaoguang knows the cloud knights are smart and resource-savvy enough not to respond to any taunts from angry yuque residents of the luofu, but he’s champing at the bit trying to quell public dissatisfaction on either ship. it’s fu xuan who suggests it in one meeting with jing yuan and yaoguang.

“great relations,” she says, “start with an even greater union.”

you’ve been married for five months. you’re lucky if you see jing yuan more than twice a week, and today he’s holed up in his home office signing off on contracts for the alchemy commission to order new supplies. he’d said good morning when you entered the kitchen for breakfast, and you could only offer a nod before he bade you farewell for the day. a typical conversation. you’re not unhappy, but you are awfully bored. 

your handmaiden, lihua, promised a new harvest from the garden today. she’s back by the time you’re done with your speech lessons (you still struggle to adapt to the local dialect, but jing yuan has always been kind not to fuss about your vowel inflections), and you help her wash and spread the fruits on bamboo-woven trays in the cool heat of the afternoon. 

“does jing yuan have anything to drink on days like this?” you ask lihua.

she hums thoughtfully. “i’m sure he’d appreciate his wife coming to greet him with something sweet. can i show you how to make simple syrup?”

it’s simple enough. you make a pitcher of iced lemonade in no time, and lihua prepares a tray for you to bring a glass to jing yuan’s office. you shake with every step you take. internally, you scold yourself for feeling so anxious — this is your husband. jing yuan, who asked you personally for your allergies and food preferences to curate a menu for your daily consumption for the kitchen staff to follow. jing yuan, who had a room specially built for you in the east wing after you’d told your father how much you’d miss seeing the sunrise from your window. jing yuan, who’d once accidentally walked in on you in the hot springs on his rare day off, and grew as red as an angry tuskpir, leaving with a hasty apology. (you didn’t see him for three weeks after that.)

you steel your resolve, and knock on the door. when he doesn’t answer, you gently creak the door open, jing yuan coming into view as he’s hunched over sheets of paper, hair tied haphazardly with his red ribbon. he holds his pen so rigidly. you wonder if he’s taken a break at all today. 

you tiptoe in, lest you break his focus. “sorry,” you whisper. “i brought this for you.”

jing yuan spares you a single glance, watching you position the glass at the edge of his desk. he does not say a word. 

you think… he might be a little peeved. yes. why would you even think of interrupting him? oh god. his schedule must be packed tight, his rhythm stunted with your unannounced arrival. you immediately open your mouth for an apology, feeling the pinpricks of tears at the thought of disappointing him.

he’s already looking away. his writing is even faster than before. you leave with a bow and nothing else to say.

(jing yuan drinks your lemonade in three gulps after you’ve closed the door behind you. he reminds himself to have a bundle of flowers delivered to your bedroom door by sunrise the next morning. for the rest of his working day, your face, so beautifully concerned, plagues his head.

he wants to know what else makes you cry.)

[shanastoryteller]

Happy happy birthday 🎂🎉🥳 As always, I’d love some more of thee MDZS Identity Porn (with the masks and LWJ getting jealous of all of his husband’s “husbands”) (Or JC traveling back in time?) Thanks!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Lan Wangji wouldn't have categorized Jiang Yanli as chatty, but tonight there's really no other way to describe her. She talks at length about Lotus Pier, about the Jiang clansmen and her immediate family. That would be one thing, but she seems to forget that they don't have the same familiarity with these subjects that she does, mentioned names and places carelessly, as if they already have context for these things.

He doesn't know why Wei Wuxian would care about the minutia of Lotus Pier, but Jiang Yanli holds his complete attention. More than that, there are several moments when he has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing and at various points his smile can only be equaled to what he looks like when he's holding his children. If his husband looked at him with a tenth of that adoration, Lan Wangji doesn't think he'd have a complaint.

He prompts her to continue whenever she trails off, because as much as he wishes that he held Wei Wuxian's heart, he can't deny him the bittersweet happiness that conversing with Jiang Yanli seems to bring him. Lan Wangji should not be greedy. He knows the Patriarch's face, his voice, his affection. He's his husband and helping raise his children. It is not appropriate for him to want more than the abundance he already has.

It's nearing the end of the banquet, where mingling and drinking will take place and propriety won't allow Jiang Yanli to hold Wei Wuxian in place. She looks at him with a desperation that makes Lan Wangji feel bad for Jin Zixuan. "You know," she says softly, "years ago, before the war, before - a lot of things, I lost my younger brother."

Wei Wuxian goes completely, utterly still. Lan Wangji stares - as far as he knows Madame Yu has only ever had two children and Sect Leader Jiang is notoriously faithful, regardless of the state of his marriage.

"He wasn't mine by blood," she continues, as if answering Lan Wangji's thoughts. "But we grew up with him and A-Cheng and I couldn't think of him any other way. He was our first disciple and he and A-Cheng used to go off together all the time - but on our way to Cloud Recess, they got in trouble, and he led that trouble away so Jiang Cheng could escape and we never saw him again."

Lan Wangji remembers now. He heard about this then, remembers how Jiang Cheng's attitude had been near intolerable that summer. His heart sinks.

His husband can reanimate the dead, but not like this, there's nothing he can do for Jiang Yanli's long dead little brother.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he says to her.

She glances at him for only a moment, but when Wei Wuxian maintains his silence, her shoulders drop and she says, "Thank you," but it comes out more subdued than anything else had tonight.

Later, when they've retired to their room and he hopes Wen Qing and Meng Yao have done the same, and they're lying in the same bed with the darkness and the quiet between them, Wei Wuxian says, "He wasn't Jiang Cheng's younger brother."

Lan Wangji, just on the cusp of sleep, blinks several time until he feels more awake. "Excuse me?"

"The - the first disciple, of the Jiang," he continues, sounding very awake himself as he lies with his hands behind his head and stares at the ceiling. "The way she said it, it sounded like he was younger than Jiang Cheng, but he wasn't. He was older. Jiang Cheng was the youngest one."

"Ah," Lan Wangji says finally, "I see."

"Yeah," Wei Wuxian answers nonsensically, then looks over and offers him a weak grin. "Sorry. Never mind. Get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow."

"Yes," he says, but it takes a long time for either of them to get to sleep.

[rawbin-hsr]

OMGGG Your latest smut fic is so amazing!!! The smut is absolutely delicious! but....the angst is breaking my heart so...could you please write a continuation or part two where the reader confronts Aventurine's dark internal thoughts and comforts them? A fic where they actually get him to believe that they love him for real, where they tell him that he's not a monster and that he wasn't ruining them.

You've got it ! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Aventurine x Reader

You treat Aventurine with more respect than he deserves. (Part 2)

Read part 1 here !

CW: dehumanisation (internal, thoughts Aventurine has of himself, referring to himself as a “monster”), lots of mentions of death, passively suicidal Aventurine, violent imagery (through metaphors, nobody is actually physically harmed), intrusive thoughts, Aventurine thinks kind of vicious things about you (refers to you as "stupid", "brainless", "naive" etc), cursing.

Lmk if there’s anything else I should warn about !!

Small note: Spoiler alert sorry, but you will not completely fix Aventurine in this fic. Making any real progress would take YEARS. The trauma he's gone through and his beliefs about his own humanity are EXTREMELY deep-seated, just one conversation would not be enough to make him truly believe he was loved. Super sorry since I'm sure that's not what you wanted (you specifically requested they "truly get him to believe that they love him for real", but this does still end on a hopeful note so I hope you won't be too disappointed (•ᴗ•,, ) )

Sometimes Aventurine gains enough clarity to remember where he stands. More importantly, he gains enough clarity to remember where you should stand. That is to say, as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, you are never keen on doing that. 

In these moments of clarity, he distances himself. If you won’t do it, he has to. He needs to. He needs to even when he can feel the little pieces of him that you’ve managed to haphazardly glue together splinter into tiny shards again, even when it feels like every step away is a step walked on shattered glass. He can hardly be called a ‘person’ anyways, what does his suffering matter? He has already lost so many good things, why not add another loss to the tally?

He reads your texts, but he doesn’t respond. He hangs up on you the moment you call. By doing this, he makes sure you know he is alive. Both because he knows it would devastate you if you thought he died, but even more so to make sure you know he is intentionally ignoring you. He hopes at least some part of you hates him. He thinks part of him hates you.

But he can never stay away for long. Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. Thoughts of you always cloud his mind too much to do what is right. He reminds himself he will destroy you. He comes back anyways. He is too selfish not to. 

And you welcome him with open arms every time. Sure, sometimes you yell. Sometimes you berate him. Sometimes you cry. But he never does something beyond the bounds of what you’ll forgive, even though he tries to. You’re patient to a fault. Though he feels bad, he never takes it fully seriously, because you always hold him with so much sweetness, even when your words are filled with righteous anger and justified hurt. You always end it by reminding him that you love him. Something clenches in his chest; something that is not his heart, because he has none. He claims he is sorry, but you both know he will do this again. He always does. You know he will hurt you over and over, even if you don’t know the extent. You know he will test you, that he will ignore you, that he will cling to you and that he will taunt you. You don’t know he will drag his claws through you and tear you to ribbons; you don’t know he will sink his teeth into your neck and drink all your blood; you don’t know he will lure you to sea and drown you. You are never aware of the true danger you are in. 

Maybe that’s why you one day feel comfortable enough to corner the creature that has taken on the appearance of a lover. You sit down next to him in bed one evening after one of his many attempts to push you away, your expression grim. You look straight ahead, right into his dead eyes, unaware that a monster is towering over you. 

“We can’t go on like this,” you say. For one moment, the crushing relief and devastation threatens to consume him, and he’s not sure which of the feelings is stronger. For one moment he can’t breathe. 

He hacks our a laugh, his skin straining. Something is shifting beneath his flesh, something ugly and dangerous. He needs to leave and he needs to do it quickly. 

“You’re right, we can’t,” he agrees, his voice a lot more steady than he feels. He feels the urge to grab you and shake you until you pass out. He feels the urge to suck out your life force until your body is an empty husk. He feels the urge to slam your head into the bathroom sink in the next room over. He feels the urge to shoot himself in the head, because he does not want to do any of that. 

“I love you,” you say, unexpectedly. Or maybe it’s not unexpected. You always say such stupid, brainless things. (You say it with sweetness. The only sweetness he can offer in return is the sweetness of bacteria digesting rotting meat. Is the flesh his, or will it be yours?) He laughs again. 

“I thought we were breaking up,” he says. Smirking, as if it’s funny. (It isn’t.)

“No, we’re really not,” you say firmly. He snorts. 

“Maybe we should.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you come closer. 

Get away, he thinks. Run, you fucking idiot. 

You don’t have many flaws, but the ones you do have are insurmountably big. You are too forgiving, you are too kind, you are too selfless, you are too naive. You will kill yourself doing this one day. You will let him kill you.

Your arms wrap around him. He can’t help but relax. The thing lurking under his human disguise grows more restless. 

“I don’t hate you,” you say, unexpectedly. And this one really is unexpected, because what made you say that? Your arms squeeze around him tighter. “I thought I was being obvious enough about that, but you’re so bad at understanding it.”

The feeling he has is the same as the feeling he gets when he realises a deal is going awry. You are the highest risk stakes he has ever made a bet on: will he ruin you, or will you ruin him? What you could do to him is so much more serious than death. He knows that he is holding a losing hand. He doesn’t even know what he stands to win.

You kiss his neck. He shudders. 

“Why are you so scared of me?” you ask. 

Scared? He is not scared. What an outright laughable concept. Neither of you are scared, but if one of you was, it should be you, but you aren’t, for some reason.

“What gives you that idea?” he chuckles, but his voice is not as steady this time, and he can feel his smile slipping. (What is wrong with him? He doesn’t want to think about it. The answer is always ‘everything’.)

“Your hand is shaking.”

It is, but that is not because he is afraid. Fear is a human response, borne from the desire to live. It is instinctual. It means kicking and screaming, it means clawing your way out of hell for the chance to see another day, it means fighting for the life you don’t want to end. He cannot die, you see. Death cannot occur twice. Just because his body reacts, that does not necessarily mean he can truly fear any longer.

(Then again, maybe his reaction does not come from the thought of his death.)

“I’m not scared,” he says, and his voice sounds a lot weaker than he had expected. You pull him closer, cradling his head against the crook of your neck. His blood is pulsing too quickly.

“It would be okay if you were,” you murmur. “I know you don’t know how to be loved. That’s okay. I’ll teach you. You just have to let me.”

Squash. Slice. Tear.

Maybe you are the monster. He can feel your claws prying his chest open; he can feel your teeth dig into his flesh; he can feel something that is not air fill his lungs. The biggest difference between you and him is that he devours, while you give. You painfully shove something back into the cavity meant to contain his soul, you pump blood back into his system, and you fill whatever gaps are left in him with something that is first cold but quickly warms. 

(He realises, belatedly, that something is pumping inside his chest again. But it can’t be a heart, can it? He lost that so long ago.)

“I’ll kill you,” he manages through gritted teeth, claws digging into your shirt. It is not a threat. It is not a warning. It is just the truth.

“You think too much,” you admonish him. Your tone is as gentle as your words are cutting. “I wish you would trust me more. You’re so determined to ruin your own life, and I don’t like it.”

“That’s just how I am. Deal with it or leave.”

“I’ll deal with it, then.”

Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. He will destroy you. But you accept it. 

He has tried time and time again to push you away, but he is weak. So incorrigibly weak, and though your flaws are insurmountable, his are all-consuming. He is a monster in all the ways that matter. But you stubbornly will not leave despite that. 

(Maybe that makes him a little more willing to try to change his nature. Just a little. Just for you. If you will not leave anyways, maybe he could try to make his presence a little less torturous.)

“Just… please stop ignoring me,” you sigh, nuzzling into his hair. Tenderly, tenderly, tenderly, so tenderly it makes his skin crawl. Your claws are softly piercing into him and he is helpless, unable (unwilling) to fight back. “I can deal with everything else. I just hate it when you do that. I can’t keep going weeks without speaking to you. I know you have some kind of… weird ideas that I’d be better off without you, but that’s not true. I love you, and I love being around you. I can’t help you when you cut me off at every corner.”

Cut, slice, slash.

Something in him breaks. Something he knows cannot be salvaged. Something he knows you would not want to salvage. Something he is not sure if he wants to salvage either, now that it is broken anyways.

He breathes a shaky breath, his fingers — his fingers, not claws, not this time — digging into your back. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and he does not feel the urge to bite down. Though his eyes feel wet, it would not be enough water to drown you. 

He knows your line of logic is wrong. He knows the fact remains unchanged: he is a monster of a man. He will ruin you. But maybe your presence sparks enough electricity to keep his heart pumping, just for a little while, and maybe he can wait until things actually start going downhill before he lets you go. Maybe he can remember how to be a human for a bit, maybe he can pretend he is. 

“I just… don’t want to do something I can’t take back,” he whispers. “Not with you. You’re the… the only good thing I have left. I don’t know what I’d do if I…”

“That’s sweet, but I’m not as weak as you think I am,” you reply. “I’ve held out this long, haven’t I? Put more faith in me.”

He smiles.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

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

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3 Also reblogs are EXTREMELY appreciated the final push I needed to finish this was from a very kind individual who reposted and analysed my writing I've been riding that high ever since they did that ily bro

[antichilde]

pick your battles

kakashi x gn reader, 700 words, sfw but mdni

in which kakashi makes the mistake of bringing a cute bento to training

contents: 100% fluff, cooking as a love language, initially reader is assumed to be female but a gender is never actually specified

notes: this is a test run for a forced proximity slowburn i’m working on. feedback is always appreciated 🥰

Kakashi should’ve known better than to bring the dumplings with him to training. Usually he can get away with having lunch, picking moments when his students are distracted to eat his meal. Not today, though. This time three pairs of eyes are glued to him the moment he takes the lid off his bento.

Naruto leans over his shoulder, staring openly. “Whatcha got there, sensei?”

“Dumplings, of course,” Sakura says, rolling her eyes. “I know you’re a ramen freak but there are other kinds of food in the world.”

She picks up her chopsticks, pretending to be interested in her own meal, but he can see how curious she is. Kakashi frowns as he eyes the lunch she’s packed for herself; it isn’t nearly enough food to get her through training.

“I know what dumplings are!” Naruto snaps back at Sakura. “I wanted to know what kind they are.”

Seeing an opportunity, Kakashi turns away to uncover his face while they bicker. He’s got just enough time to shove two dumplings into his mouth before he has to pull his mask back up.

“They’re homemade,” Sasuke notes. He’s been quiet up to now, content to eat his own lunch and watch the other two fight it out.

“They are,” Kakashi confirms through a mouthful of food, nodding. “And Naruto I doubt you would like them. They’re vegetable.”

“Lame.” Naruto flops down onto the grass, his attention shifting to the fluffy white clouds overhead. “You didn’t even make any meat ones?”

“There’s no way Kakashi-sensei made them,” Sakura says, suspicious.

He knows he shouldn’t respond, but Kakashi can’t help himself. After all, he did make some of them, and he’s quite proud of that.

“Oh?” he asks, his tone as mild as always. “And what makes you say that, Sakura?”

“They’re way too cute. Look at the little ruffles along the edges.”

“I can make cute things. Maybe I felt like changing things up for once.”

“There’s a note on the lid of the bento,” Sasuke says, not even looking up.

Kakashi’s heart nearly stops in his chest. You’d left him a note? No, he would’ve seen one right? Sasuke must be bluffing. From his position on the ground, Naruto leans over to swipe the lid off of the stone step where Kakashi had placed it. He does his best not to react, even as Naruto flips the lid over to check the underside.

“What are you talking about, Sasuke? There’s nothing here.”

Sasuke takes a bite of rice. “No, of course there isn’t. But look at Kakashi-sensei.”

For the second time that afternoon, three pairs of curious eyes turn towards Kakashi. He tries to school his expression, a feat which is usually easy enough with a mask on, but he can feel the treacherous flush creeping up his cheeks.

Sitting up and crossing his legs, Naruto places the lid back on the step. “Sensei, why’s your face getting all red?”

“Oh look! He’s blushing!” Sakura squeals, bringing her hands up to her cheeks. “Sensei must have a girlfriend.”

Sasuke wipes his mouth on his sleeve, aloof as ever. “Took you long enough.”

Immediately Naruto and Sakura launch into a barrage of questions.

“Is she pretty?”

“Do we know her?”

“How long have you guys been dating?”

“Wait, is she living with you?”

“Does that mean it’s serious?”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Kakashi raises a gloved hand, cutting them off. “You’re making a lot of assumptions based on a couple of dumplings.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Naruto says, nodding, and for a single, blissful moment, Kakashi thinks he’s won. But then Naruto adds: “He could have a boyfriend.” and Kakashi decides it’s time to end this conversation.

“As glad as I am that you have an open mind, that isn’t the kind of assumption I was referring to. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Naruto opens his mouth, but his teacher is having none of it.

“Or a boyfriend. Or any sort of partner. And even if I did, it’s none of your business.”

Sakura looks like she has more to say on the subject, but just then her stomach growls and Kakashi pushes the bento towards her.

“You three, have the rest of these. None of you packed enough to eat today. I’ll be back in a bit, I have an errand to run.”

As he makes his escape, disappearing in a puff of smoke, Kakashi wonders if he’s just adding fuel to the fire. Probably, though at least this way he knows Sakura and Sasuke will eat something. And he’s sure Naruto will too, once he figures out that Kakashi lied about the vegetables.

[darknight3904]

Hi! I don’t know if you take requests but I had an idea for one if you do? Aemond X reader where Aegon insults reader infront of Aemond and he stands up for reader because he has feelings for them

Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy this one. I tried to make Aegon as gross as possible.

Reader is from House Stark in this but feel free to imagine it differently if you so choose.

Warnings: Aegon Targaryen

Insults

Aegon had never been Aemond's favorite sibling. If he had to choose, that position would've gone to Daeron who had been off in Oldtown for years now. After all, the best sibling is one that just simply doesn't bother others. Of course, Heleana was nice too, she was quiet usually in her own head. Aemond never minded sitting in silence with her while she poured over her needle work and he a good book. All he knew was that Aegon was his least favorite sibling, that was for sure.

You had been an unexpected variable in Aemond's life. His betrothal to you was unexpected and initially not welcome. Aemond hadn't been interested in marrying so young, let alone to some northern girl he'd never met. He knew what Starks were, they were stubborn and annoying, much like that Direwolf they so proudly wore. He found the sigil to be rather boring compared to his families, a dragon would always be the more impressive sigil.

He had kept his negative thoughts his entire flight to Winterfell. Vhagar had let out multiple grumbles of disapproval as the temperature dropped, she seemed to dislike snow as much as he did. His negative thoughts hung over him like a cloud as he stood in Winterfell's Great Hall. Cregan Stark had treated him with kindness and said his cousin was a "Winter Beauty." Aemond found himself rather uninterested until supper that night. In his mind what good was beauty if a person lacked brains. Aegon was proof of that. Silver hair and violet eyes only got his brother so far.

"My Prince, I hope your flight to Winterfell was easy."

Your first words to him had him entranced. He was not to be married to you for another three years yet he found himself petitioning your father to take you back to Kings Landing. A guest of the King, after all he wanted to get to know you better.

Your father had relented after you had begged him to go to the capital. Aemond had a feeling you were entranced by his looks, he could not blame you though, Targaryens were closer to gods rather than men.

He spent many moons by your side, laughing and reading. Your favorite spot turned out to be the Godswood where he ended up spending countless hours threading his thin fingers through your hair. As the days passed and bled together, Aemond found himself more and more wrapped around your finger. His eye sought you out at every formal feast his father threw, hoping you'd honor him with a dance instead of sitting beside his sister or pushing the food on your plate around.

Aemond believed every man was entitled to enjoy his nameday, that is why he was doing this. He wanted his older brother to be happy, that is why he is sitting at a huge table, piled with food for Aegon and his friends rather than at the library with you. It is for Aegon, is what his mind chants as his brother and the rest of their party become drunker as the night wears on. The feast his father had thrown was still in full swing as Aegon downed his seventh cup of wine. His father and mother departed the party early, King Viserys health was troublesome.

"Little brother, you seem rather drawn tonight," Aegon says, suddenly pointing the conversation to Aemond despite ignoring him all night.

He turns his gaze to his brother who is practically drowning in the pitcher of wine before him

"I have other matters to attend to. I don't wish to drink myself into stupor, brother." Aemond says

"Oh yes, right." Aegon smiles, " Are those other matters the Stark girl here? She does not matter. Marriage is so...droll. I only visit Heleana when I am drunk."

"I do not plan to be like that to Lady Stark," Aemond says looking at you, your mouth is pressed into a firm line and your brows furr in displeasure

Aegon lets out a mocking laugh and takes another sip of his drink. Aemond watches as his brother's hand snakes its way back to his cup.

"Why ever not? She's nothing but a walking womb for you brother, a place to carry on the Targaryen line while securing a good relationship with that Cregan fellow."

Aegon's drunken laughter fills Aemond's ears while his mind fills with rage. How dare he? He glances at you who shoots him a look of "Stay put, he's drunk,".

Aemond slams his own cup down on the table. The drink he has been nursing all night splashes out and onto the wood below. His brother's laughs fall silent as Aemond approaches him. Aegon lets out a small hiccup when his Aemond lowers himself so he's level with his pig-headed brother.

Aemond takes his brother's shirt in his hands. The material is soft in his fingers, only the best for a Targaryen Prince. He leans in so he's close enough to smell the drunkenness on his older brother's breath.

"You will never speak another word of her, do you understand?" He says, his voice dangerously low.

Aegon's friends have fallen silent as they watch the two princes stare at each other. Aegon is standing on the tips of his toes as Aemond lifts him so they're closer to eye level.

"Why? She is nothing to us. We are dragons." Aegon lets out another drunk giggle, "She is nothing but a whore."

Aemond cannot control himself anymore, red flashes before his remaining eye as he takes his arms and slams his much weaker older brother face-first into the table. He uses one arm to hold Aegon's head against the wood and the other to pull Aegon's left arm up behind his back, pinning him down.

"Aemond!"

Your voice falls on deaf ears as Aegon struggles below him. It feels good to do this to him, he has poked and teased Aemond for so many years. Aemond might've been able to let it go but bringing his betrothed, whom he had just recently come to accept his feelings for, into their feud was unacceptable.

"Prince Aemond, let him go!" A guard yells as they run towards them.

The party has fallen into a lull as the guests turn to see the two Princes fighting.

"All eyes are on us, brother," Aemond says, leaning down to speak directly into Aegon's ear

"Let me go." Aegon demands, trying to push himself up

"If you ever insult her again, I'll feed you to Vhagar."

"You wouldn't," Aegon says, still struggling under Aemond's arms

"I would. I'd even laugh when your eyes melt from their sockets as you scream for our mother." Aemond pulls his thin dagger from its sheath that stays strapped around him at all times "Do not insult her, ever."

Aegon's eyes widen when Aemond lets the dagger rest on his cheek.

"Fine! Let me up!"

Aemond relents and unhands him. The guards relax when they see Aegon unharmed.

"What are you doing?"

You are at his side immediately, grabbing his arm, ready to scold him for his actions.

"Defending your honor, my love." Aemond smiles "No one, not even my brother, will insult you when I am here."

Requests are open, you can place them in my inbox or message directly.

Main Masterlist

Want more of my writings for Aemond? Check out my Aemond series The Race.

[klausinamarink]

He Want Kiss

rating: G | cw: none | wc: 630 | tags: post s4, getting together, first kiss, Steve is down bad | prompt: Love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can’t stop thinking about kissing him

written for @steddielovemonth

Steve is obsessed with Eddie’s lips. 

Like completely to the point that he might actually start going to therapy. 

But Steve is just a simple man. He sees a pair of well-rounded lips that can make a perfect smile with dimples and he’s a goner. For example, look at Eddie. They’re so plump looking that Steve cannot believe it’s legal. And the way they move whenever Eddie speaks-

“-ink I should go for this one?”

Steve snaps his gaze up, barely surviving from the combination of head whiplash and the pointed attack of Eddie’s eyes, Jesus Christ, look at them Bambi eyes.

“Oh yeah, man.” How Steve manages not to stutter is both a mystery and a blessing. 

“Yeah?” Eddie looks at him, his expression mixed with expectation and nervousness.

“Yeah.” Steve repeats confidently. He’s already forgetting what exactly they were talking about but he knows it has to do with Eddie trying to get a job, hence why he called Steve over to help him out with the few applications that believe in Eddie’s innocence. “Like, yeah, go for that.” 

Christ, he might as well bash his head again. Steve really doesn’t want to come off as a douche again, but it’s not his fault that Eddie’s lips are just right there. They’re just begging to be kissed.

Thankfully, Eddie seems pleased by his answer. He smiles, dimples and all - oh lord please have mercy on Steve’s soul because he cannot handle the adorableness any longer - as he says, “Well, if Steve Harrington says so, then I will do it.” Then Eddie starts biting his lip, glancing down at the resume they’ve polished together. 

Steve digs his fingernails through the jeans over his thighs, but it’s not enough to bat away the growing temptation to reach forward and brush his fingers over Eddie so the other man wouldn’t abuse his lips anymore. The skin had already been cracked and bleeding in the past few months and it’s always so devastating to see Eddie hurt a part of himself like this.

Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, Steve should kiss him. 

Eddie is right there. While there will be lots of opportunities to have him at Steve’s side, there’ll never be another perfect chance like this. 

Steve leans forward a bit but stops himself. Has Eddie ever been kissed before? If he did, does he like the faint touch of lips brushing together? Like smashed together? Full-on make-out sessions that lead to something more passionate? 

Okay, Steve could work on the slow route. He’s done it before with his previous girlfriends. He could lean in at a snail’s pace so Eddie has enough time to register what’s happening and-

“Steve?”

Suddenly, Eddie’s face is much closer than Steve remembers. He feels a heat of breath against his lips. Then the rush of realization comes over Steve because he was about to kiss Eddie.

Yet despite this, Steve barely feels a sense of embarrassment. He stays in place, staring into Eddie’s wide eyes as they flicker over his face, lingering on Steve’s lips every few seconds. 

Finally, Eddie huffs out a nervous little laugh, “You, uh, listened to what I just said?”

“Hm-mm.” Steve shakes his head. He feels like he’s on cloud nine and whatever Eddie does next, he’s going to scream at the heavens anyway. 

Eddie’s lips form the briefest of smirks, but it’s gone in a blink. They part open slightly. 

Steve can’t hold it anymore. He closes the space between them and meets Eddie’s lips at last. It’s more rough and desperate than he plans it to be and tries to dial it back. But when Eddie kisses him with a similar force, Steve goes screw it and kisses back like it’s their last chance.

[solarmorrigan]

The crack of thunder is loud enough to jolt Steve awake, and for a moment his sleep-clouded eyes search the room wildly for the threat, for whatever woke him, before another peal of thunder seems to roll the tension right out of him.

“Shit,” he sighs, relaxing back into the mattress. “Big one.”

“Yep,” Eddie says tightly from where he’s sitting up against the headboard beside him.

Steve squints up at Eddie in the dim light of the bedside lamp (which Eddie has no plans to turn off, despite the fact it’s gone past two AM). He’s clearly not quite awake, but something in Eddie’s tone has pinged in his brain, and he’s trying to work it out.

Another crash of thunder rattles the house and Eddie can’t help it – he jumps.

It’s small—maybe more like a twitch—but Steve catches it. He always does.

Frowning, Steve reaches out and soothes a hand up the top of Eddie’s thigh, stopping at the bend of his hip and rubbing circles with this thumb.

“Hey,” he says softly, half muffled by the pillow. “Okay?”

Eddie shrugs, hunching over the book in his lap that had been an adequate distraction until the storm had rolled right overhead.

“Not a fan of thunderstorms, I guess,” he admits, lowly, because he’s kind of embarrassed, but willingly, because he knows Steve won’t give him shit – not for something that really upsets him.

“No?” Steve asks, still looking up at Eddie through his lashes, still not entirely awake and an invitingly soft distraction from the rain spattering the window like bullets.

“Nah.” Eddie shrugs again.

Steve hums—a short, distracted sound—and leans in to press a kiss to Eddie’s hip. Then he’s sitting up and stretching with a sharp intake of breath before draping himself over Eddie’s side, kissing his shoulder and looking up at him with expectant eyes.

I’m awake now, he’s saying. You can talk to me.

And Eddie knows he can – and Eddie would, except he’s never really had to put into words why he—Eddie Munson, champion of chaos and discord—has never liked thunderstorms. He’s never had to articulate how the trailer walls had never felt thinner when he was a kid than when a storm was furiously beating at them, or how all the noise and destruction had been something totally out of his control.

Wayne is the only one who really knows, and Wayne had just gotten it. He’d started playing music for Eddie when those Midwestern spring storms started rolling in – and maybe Eddie didn’t love thunder and lightning, but that had been how he’d fallen in love with the idea of making music.

There, at last, had been a form of noise and chaos that Eddie could control and wield for himself.

But it’s late, and Eddie is strung out and wrung out and it doesn’t feel like he has the energy for that conversation.

“Never really liked them when I was a kid,” he says instead. “And then after all the shit with the Upside Down, I think it was the final nail in the coffin.”

Steve makes a little wounded noise, maybe at Eddie’s phrasing, maybe just in sympathy, and he turns his head to press a kiss to the side of Eddie’s throat.

“Anyway, it’s stupid, and I can deal with it. You can go back to sleep,” Eddie says, very much aware that he’s clutching one of Steve’s hands as he does so.

“Not stupid,” Steve says. “I’ll go back to sleep if you lay down with me.”

Eddie sighs. “Steve…”

“I’m serious. Hit the light and lay down with me.” Steve kisses Eddie’s neck again, twice, three times, trailing up to the hinge of his jaw, where he murmurs, “Trust me.”

And Steve is a bastard, because Eddie can’t say no to that, so with another (greatly put-upon) sigh, Eddie leans over to put his book on the nightstand and then, after just a moment of hesitation, he turns out the light.

The storm wastes no time in reilluminating the room with flickering lightning, followed by another crash of thunder.

But Steve’s hands are on Eddie, warm and sure, and he’s telling him come here and then pulling him nearer like he can’t wait.

Eddie lets himself be rearranged without complaint and finds himself lying face to face with Steve, legs tangled, arms caught between them, their foreheads brushing. He can feel Steve’s breath against his lips when he begins to speak.

“When I was a kid, I loved thunderstorms,” Steve says, voice soft.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, the word feeling small in the scant space between them.

“Yep,” Steve says. He takes one of Eddie’s hands and pulls it to his chest, pressing it flat there where Eddie can feel the beat of his heart, calm and steady. “My favorites were the ones just like this. Loud and strong, in the middle of the night.”

Frankly, Eddie can’t imagine a worse type of thunderstorm, listening to the deluge falling on the roof of the tiny house he and Steve share, his body practically rattling along with the windows when thunder booms overhead.

Still, he dutifully asks, “Why?”

Steve is quiet for a moment, still collecting his words.

“The world didn’t feel as empty, when there was a storm outside,” he finally says. “If there was noise, it didn’t feel like I was alone.”

It’s a much more thoughtful admission than Eddie was expecting, much more somber, and he’s not quite sure what to say. He presses a little closer to Steve, nudging their foreheads together.

Another rumble of thunder passes over them, still so loud that Eddie can feel it in his bones, and Steve sighs like he’s perfectly content.

“I liked that, too,” he says. “When you could feel the thunder in your chest like a second heartbeat. Like there was someone there with me.”

Eddie finds Steve’s free hand with his own and squeezes.

“I think I just forgot after a while. Or maybe it wasn’t enough. When I got older, I went out and surrounded myself with people instead. The noise at a really big party felt like a storm sometimes.” Steve gives a subdued little laugh. “But when I was a kid… just this was enough.”

“What about now?” Eddie asks, practically whispering, just loud enough to be heard over the percussion of the rain.

Steve tilts his head forward until their lips meet, sweet and certain.

“This will always be enough,” he says when they part.

He doesn’t go far; their foreheads are still pressed together, their noses are still brushing, hands and arms and legs are still tangled like Steve wants to pull Eddie inside of himself so he can feel the storm the way Steve does.

So Eddie closes his eyes and he tries.

He and Steve lay there quietly, listening as the storm finally begins to pass from over their heads. It isn’t great—it’s loud, it’s violent, it’s nerve-wracking—but Eddie never has to check to know that Steve is still awake, still with him, keeping Eddie’s hand pressed to his steady heartbeat.

Eddie doesn’t start to magically enjoy the storm. He’s not sure he ever will. But – for the way Steve loves them, for the way they had given him comfort for so many years, Eddie thinks he might just be able to make his peace with them.

[Prompt: Touching foreheads]

[lamemaster]

For the Love of Leeches

Request: Hi, I hope you're well! Would it be aleight if you could write a drabble of reader x glorfindel where reader has been physically scarred by battle and gets reassured? Can be platonic or romantic. Thank you!

Pairing: Glorfindel x Reader

Genre: Romance

Summary: You look into the mirror. Breaking apart every single part of yourself. Trying to rebuild the past that will never come to be. “I do not wish for looks of wonder, pity, or disgust."

AN: Sorry it took so long but here it is! I hope you like it 💖

He watches as you undo your hair, allowing it to fall over your face. In the unbearable summer heat, that has even the hardiest of elves stripping down to minimal layers, you roam the world with long-sleeved robes and your hair undone.

And just as his fingers touch the curtain of hair covering your face, your hands swat them away. “Don’t,” you admonish him, your voice laced with the irritability that the weather has lent to you in exchange for your revolting garb.

“Melda, believe me when I say I know the allure of undone hair. I died for it,” he ignores the creeping cold the memories of his death bring to his scalp. “But even I cannot vouch for this dramatic flair today.” He reaches to push your hair, revealing a sweat-glistening cheek.

You sigh pulling your hair back. “I cannot.” You look into the mirror, your eyes tracing over the deep jagged lines that run all over your face. Lines that never heal. They are as much a part of your face as your eyes, nose, lips. You look at Glorfindel, your mind shrouded in discomfort of the heat. “It is summer…Mirkwood elflings are afraid of scars. Even Thranduil hides his so why can’t I hide mine?”

Glorfindel sighs, “Dear, Thranduil uses glamor, he does not torment himself in this heat.” He pauses at the defiant look in your eyes. “At least be at ease in our home? No one except for me here. Hmm?” He pulls your hair away from your face and for once you allow him to.

“I do not wish for elflings to see these..” You look into the mirror. Breaking apart every single part of yourself. Trying to rebuild the past that will never come to be. “I do not wish for looks of wonder, pity, or disgust. I do not wish for disbelief when we walk together.” Laid bare was your heart. So vulnerable and open for Glorfindel to hold.

Ignoring the oppressive heat, Glorfindel wraps his arms around you, pulling you back against his solid form. His chin rests on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. Looking at your reflection in the mirror. “Then look at me.” He lips kiss your cheeks, grazing over the jagged lines of your scars. Gentle yet passionate. “Do not seek others. Just look at me.” 

He tilts your chin up, pressing his lips against yours. “My eyes are always on you, they perhaps have lost the ability to linger anywhere but you.” Your eyes close, allowing his kiss to last beyond the wretched whispers of your mind. 

His thumb rubs your cheek, this hands cup your face. “I love you. My soul, my body, my heart is yours. And nothing will change that.” His lips trail over your face. You are the prettiest, most valuable existence to me. Followed by Asfaloth, of course," he adds with a playful smirk, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“My heart rushes at the very sight of you,” he continues as your breath hitches with the feeling of his lips on your skin. “I feel so lost, yet so found. I wish I could show you how wonderful you look from my eyes. How bright you are, my love.” he continues, his voice low and filled with a tenderness you have never felt worthy of.

You turn around wrapping your arms around him. Your head rests on his chest. You both stand wrapped in each other's arms. Forgotten was the heat, summer, or the topic of your conversation. "You are unfairly sweet," you whisper, nuzzling into him, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “So sweet that even the bitterness of these scars fades away when you hold me.” 

Your eyes cloud with a sudden surge of emotion. They brim with love that you cannot hold back. “I cannot live without this sweetness. Without you the world is bitter. Biting place.” You bury your face in his chest. “Do not leave me. No matter the scars…do not leave me please.” You plead, your voice trembling. 

"Slander," his voice is brittle despite the light tone. "I plan to stick with you like a leech. Not even the summer can undo this arrangement, darling."

You feel the steady thrum of his heart, the sudden tightening of his arms around you. A warmth spreads through you, a comfort you cannot get enough of. 

"Good," you murmur, your voice muffled against his chest. "I like leeches." 

And your beloved snorts with minuscule grace he can spare. Which soon turns into a full-blown booming laugh in a matter of minutes.

[makeste]

Plus One For All

so guys. can we talk about how there’s somebody chilling out inside of Katsuki’s mind who’s not supposed to be there.

hello there Mister All Might Vestige sir. you should not exist, just FYI. you’re not some Nighteye-type plot hallucination. because if you were, you would not be appearing here as Cloud Might, a version of yourself whom Katsuki has never met and has no frame of reference for. ergo he did not imagine you. ergo you are, in fact, real.

which means Katsuki has One For All.

because that’s the only way he could have a Vestige -- which is indisputably what this is -- inside of him. he has OFA. so. where did he get it. how does he have it. and why is it only making its presence known now.

let’s discuss.

okay so I’m going to try and lay this all out as clearly as possible while also attempting to be as succinct as I can. but knowing me, I’m probably going to wind up sacrificing the latter in pursuit of the former. I’ll do my best though. here goes.

1. Heroes Rising is canon.

which is a fact we’ve recently been reminded of not once, but twice -- first with the appearance of Katsuma and Mahoro in chapter 405, and then in chapter 406 with the “Bakugou no Kacchan” callback. the timing of this almost certainly isn’t coincidental. Horikoshi wants this to be fresh in our minds.

mind you, it is extremely unusual for movies, even technically!canon ones, to actually be relevant to the plot. but BnHA may be one of the few exceptions. we’ve already seen movie 1 impact the series both with Star & Stripe’s backstory, and with Deku’s new gauntlets. so there’s precedent, and it’s something I am paying very close attention to.

2. Deku giving OFA to Bakugou is canon.

just in case anyone here hasn’t yet seen or been spoiled for Heroes Rising, that is in fact what happens in that film! so yeah, that certainly seems like an extremely relevant detail right about now.

3. we never found out why and how Deku got OFA back at the end of the movie.

okay so I was looking for a clip to link before we discuss this next part, but I unfortunately couldn’t find one that hadn’t been edited to avoid copyright issues, so you’ll just have to make do with this.

skip ahead to about 7:10 for the relevant part. for the purposes of this theory, we’re just going to ignore everything All Might says here, because tbh he has no fucking clue what’s actually going on and is just guessing wildly lol. however, I do want you to take note of one thing which will be important later. and that’s the fact that, when OFA “returns” to Deku’s body, it’s only his body which starts glowing, and notably not Kacchan’s. the latter just keeps lying there unglowingly. nothing to indicate any kind of transfer is actually happening between him and Deku, in other words.

moving on.

4. OFA and AFO are probably the same quirk.

as summarized here and here. which is relevant because if they are the same quirk, or close to it, then OFA can most likely do anything AFO can do. so file that away for later.

5. AFO was able to split his quirk and give it to Tomura while still keeping a piece of it for himself.

what’s more, he was able to do the same with Garaki/Ujiko’s quirk, and presumably other quirks as well. while it’s possible that this quirk duplication has nothing to do with AFO and is simply something Garaki was able to figure out using ~*~Science~*~, I think it’s more likely that the two of them used AFO’s quirk in some way to accomplish this feat. particularly since Tomura not only received AFO, but a bunch of its stored up quirkdata as well, such as the information stored in Ragdoll’s stolen Search quirk.

6. OFA responds to Deku’s feelings and desires.

or at least this is the case according to Banjou in chapter 213. recall this interesting conversation on how Deku first activated Blackwhip.

he was thinking that he wanted to capture Monoma, and so OFA obediently activated his “capture Monoma” quirk. despite him being unaware he even had said quirk. it responded to his need, even though he wasn’t consciously trying to activate anything.

now then, let’s revisit that scene in Heroes Rising one more time.

7. during the climax of Heroes Rising, Deku was NOT thinking, “I need to give OFA to Kacchan.”

here’s the scene one more time for reference. this time you’re gonna want to skip to about 3:57.

here’s where we are going to get extremely technical, because this scene right here is the key to everything. Deku’s lines in this scene are, and I quote: “a way we can protect [everyone]... there’s just one way...!” but he very notably does not specify exactly what that “one way” is.

until we get to this scene a minute or so later, which spells it out for us very clearly.

two One For Alls. as in, “with two One For Alls, we could win this battle and save everyone.”

that’s what he was thinking at the moment of the “transfer.” NOT, “give OFA to Kacchan.” but, “we need two One For Alls.”

which, I think, may have made all the difference.

8. OFA created a copy of itself to share with Kacchan, so that both of them could have OFA and use the two OFAs to defeat Nine.

let’s recap. OFA is AFO. AFO can clone itself. so it stands to reason that OFA can presumably clone itself as well. and that’s exactly what Deku wanted to do. make a second One For All.

he didn’t know that he could do that. but as previously established in the Blackwhip incident, OFA is more than capable of making its own executive decisions in key moments just like this in order to help him out.

which would mean that what we saw at the end of Heroes Rising was not OFA being transferred from Bakugou back over to Deku. it was actually just Deku’s OFA briefly self-activating (possibly in response to his delirious apology to All Might -- kind of a “no worries bro, you’ve still got your quirk actually, so go back to sleep and stop stressing over it” type of thing). and Kacchan’s OFA doing... absolutely nothing. it didn’t actually transfer back into Deku. it didn’t actually go anywhere.

let me repeat that: it didn’t actually go anywhere.

in other words, Kacchan still has OFA. and has had it ever since Heroes Rising. he just didn’t realize it. and neither did anybody else.

9. Kacchan’s OFA went dormant once Nine was defeated.

okay, so. remember all of this exposition from chapter 304?

basically, if someone who already has a quirk receives OFA, using it will slowly destroy their body until it kills them. the Vestiges learned this from All Might while he was researching the past generations of OFA in chapter 241, incidentally. Heroes Rising takes place right around this same time (immediately following MVA if I recall). so by the time the film’s climax rolled around, the Vestiges would have known that giving OFA to Kacchan could have devastating consequences down the line if they did not take action immediately after the fight.

so they did.

once Nine was defeated, the Vestiges shut the whole thing down. the crisis was averted, and they no longer had need of a second OFA. they have this boy who is way too similar to Deku in terms of his willingness to put himself in harm’s way in order to achieve his goals. and they absolutely do not want any harm befalling this boy. more on that momentarily.

so they go dark. and they even seal his memory so that he’s no longer aware of even having the quirk. they are essentially in sleep mode. and if circumstances hadn’t eventually become desperate enough to force their hand, they might have remained inactive for the rest of Katsuki’s life.

now, you might be wondering to yourself, “why is OFA willing to go to such unusual lengths in order to protect Katsuki?” and well, the answer to that is pretty simple.

10. Kacchan does not have the same version of OFA as Deku.

Deku is ninth gen. Katsuki, however, is tenth gen. which means that his version of OFA has one additional Vestige. a Vestige whose presence immediately explains why OFA is so goddamn determined to protect him at all costs.

:’)

long story short, while Deku’s version of OFA has proven itself all too willing to enable him in his increasingly suicidal mission, Katsuki’s version of OFA is very much a different story, on account of it being under the management of what I’m guessing is the most willful Vestige ever to exist. and said management being just the slightest bit unhinged when it comes to Katsuki’s safety in particular. seriously, you can’t tell me this is not exactly how a Deku!Vestige would behave. “oh hell no. no OFA for you!! and no memories either, because you can’t be trusted, goddammit. we never should have done this. what the hell were we thinking. if anything happens to him I will kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

so yeah. dormant.

right up until they literally couldn’t afford to be anymore.

11. OFA can self-activate in moments of crisis to protect its user.

Sports Festival. chapter 33. Deku vs. Shinsou.

aw yeah. it’s all coming together.

12. OFA reactivated itself in order to save Katsuki’s life.

I would now like to briefly draw your attention to this scene from chapter 405, in which Edgeshot explains how Katsuki was finally saved. please note my man is very clear that he did not restart Katsuki’s heart himself. he was basically just performing quirk CPR up until Katsuki’s own quirk returned him to life apropros of nothing.

“what brought you back... was the power you’ve honed.”

except... that should have been impossible. because Katsuki was dead. meaning he should not have been able to activate his quirk on his own, on account of the whole “being dead” thing.

however, if he by chance had a quirk with just enough of a mind of its own to activate in critical situations in order to help its user. situations like being forced under mind control. or, perhaps, being stabbed through the heart. well then. that would certainly go a long way towards explaining all of this.

and oh hey, when exactly was it that we saw this guy, again?

oh? it happened at the exact moment when his heart was stabbed through? you don’t say. well that certainly is interesting.

in summary:

Deku cloned his quirk in Heroes Rising and gave Kacchan a copy of OFA. owing to the hyperprotective Deku!Vestige inside Kacchan’s copy of OFA, it shut itself down once Nine was defeated, and all of Katsuki’s memories of having OFA were deliberately wiped, or sealed away. OFA itself remained inactive until TomurAFO stabbed Katsuki through the heart, at which point OFA was forced to reactivate itself to save his life. which it did, by forcibly restarting his heart.

that’s it. no idea how close to the money any of this is, but I think it would explain most of the lingering mysteries and questions about what exactly is going on with Katsuki. and I’ll throw in one last observation as well -- Katsuki has a nine in his name (BaKUgou), but not a ten. which I know sort of contradicts what I was saying earlier about him being the tenth gen, lol. but he both is and isn’t. if Deku split his quirk, Kacchan would in theory receive everything that’s currently in Deku’s quirk right now, and that includes Deku’s own power that he’s been adding to the mix. so he’d still have the Deku!Vestige. but he’s also still ninth gen, because he and Deku are sharing that distinction now. or at least I think the argument could be made at any rate.

so yeah. I’ve been obsessing over all of this for the past few days lol. what do you guys think?

[riphobisbraces]

The Lucky Seven | BTS ot7 x reader

Hybrid/Royal AU

~ Chapter 1 ~

[ word count 3400+ ]

❀ genre: dark royal core, hybrid au, royalty au, hybrids/knights!ot7 x human/ princess!reader, afab (she/her) reader, polyamory (mostly ot7 x reader), strangers to lovers, daddy dom, smut and sexual sometimes. tiny bits of horror

❀ warnings: smut, swearing, murder, death (not the reader or ot7 though, I'm not evil), mentions of inbreeding (not between reader or ot7) some unsettling horror depictions, it won't be every chapter though or the whole story, just little bits here and there. (I'm willing to re write chapters for you to read if you can't do horror but still wanna follow along, just ask!🖤)

——— summary ———

In a world of hybrids and humans, following each other closely to extinction, you are one of the last full humans, Princess y/l/n of the emerald nation. humans are essential for the survival of hybrids so why are assailants hunting you and your family down? because of this, the court has decided it’d be best for you to be guarded at all times by the nations strongest knights, you’ve only ever heard of them but have never seen their faces. What will happen once you come face to face with the infamous “lucky seven”?

[ chapter 1 ]

“you will not go.”

Your father states lowly but firmly. The voice sharp enough to slice the chatter amongst the servants into silence. you were having lunch with your mother and father when you made the fatal mistake of bringing up the possibility of you attending tonight’s annual masquerade ball and thereby making your debut to the kingdom.

Ever since you were a little girl you had been sheltered your entire life. You’re told it’s for your own protection, for your people. you have to stay safe and alive to be able to nourish your nation.

being one of the last full blooded humans, you are a target. No one knows what you look like and you don’t know what anyone else looks like as well. Aside from your staff and servants, no one has ever seen your face. The kingdom and nation knows of your existence of course and they love you nonetheless but because of the scarcity of humans, your father has hidden you away in fear of you being kidnapped or worse.

Your father sees you as a priceless pearl, something he has the strong urge to protect. You were his treasure and he himself had a dark past he never got into as to why he was so overprotective. “but father… I’m 22 years old..” you say but as soon as it leaves your mouth, you wish you could take it back.

“Daughter, I know your age. And to question me is to disobey me, please leave your mother and I at once and make your way into your chamber” your father ends the conversation with that, wiping his mouth with his hanker-chief. He’s always been strict and what he says is always final. As you sat across from your mother, you stood up, placing your hands on the cold grey marble table.

You give her a look, furrowing your eyebrows as to say “please say something” but to your dismay she does the same as your father, wiping her mouth then clearing her throat before looking down to finish her meal. You sigh before you give in with a feeble “yes father”. standing up, you make your way out of dining room, feeling sympathetic glances from the staff as you leave the room.

Walking to your chamber you notice the marbled white floor feels a bit chilly today. you walk through the corridor, onto the white stairway, feeling the relief of warm velvet carpet beneath your chilly feet. Walking up the stairs, one by one, you reach the halfway mark.

The sun from the large glass windows on top of the staircase beams through, tickling your eyes. you squint and use your hand to shade your eyes before looking up. You see two birds fly by, disappearing as quickly as they appeared, almost looking like as if they flew into the clouds.

You feel your heart fall heavy, filled with desperation to be like one of those birds, even just for a second. how lucky they were, to be able to go anywhere, anytime they want. no responsibilities.

It’s a little cliche but people are right when they say they wish they were birds you think to yourself. You’ve read hundreds of books and definitely have come across some descriptions of people wanting to be birds. Never understanding though as a child, you would think to yourself “why on earth would one want feathers? And to have a beak? How bizarre” But as an adult, you understood why now. It was about the freedom.

“Your highness, are you alright? Is your heart okay?” No it isn’t. You snap out of your thoughts before you realize you were still standing halfway up the staircase, clutching your chest all the while an old male servant by the name of Lloyd, looked at you with a face of concern. How long did you space out for, you thought.

“Oh yes, thank you. I guess I just got lost in thought” you give a half smile to your servant. His face of concern turned to relief before quickly turning sour again. while waiting for his response you realize he was one of the servants that was in the dining room when that whole theatrical happened with your father.

“Your highness, please forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn but I do feel sorry for you and your predicament. Please let me know if there is anything that I can do to lessen your grievances.” He tries to smile before dismissing himself with a bow and turning away. this of course isn’t unusual, your servants do seem to pity you a lot, which you find ridiculous and kind of ironic, that your “sheltering” has gotten to the point where servants pity a princess!

you’re grumbling as you think and make your way through the upstairs corridor, before eventually finally reaching your room. the oh so familiar two large and tall, white doors stand in front of you. you’ve seen these doors more often than you’ve seen your own face you thought to yourself.

reaching for the diamond knobs you turn them before pushing your way in. The breeze of the outside immediately hits your nose. It’s so fresh and delightful.

Your maids know how stuffy it gets in your chamber and how much you love fresh air so they leave your window open whenever you’re away from your chamber. Your room is cream coloured and filled to the brim with gold accents. High ceilings and lots of books.

Walking towards your desk by the window, you feel your mood start to shift. you feel a bit better despite the little argument you had with father this afternoon. you take a seat in your chair, it’s plush seating immediately coaxing your back into comfort and relaxation.

Inhale… exhale… you look up to your painting above the desk. it’s of two women, dancing in glee at some sort of outdoors festival. you always loved this painting, the happiness they seem to exude, the freedom and love.

They look like they don’t care about the past nor future, they are just focused on the present and what’s in front of each other. Oh how you longed to be that free and content. you feel the familiar heaviness sinking into you chest once again.

you have to feel that freedom, you have to have that happiness at least for one night, dear god, please, just for one night. The desperation in your chest starts to grow more and more. The desperation turns into fear and anxiety.

You feel your palms sweat and your face get hot just at the very thought. Your hands start to shake once you come to the very obvious conclusion. you HAVE to sneak out to the ball tonight.

—

“But Lloyd, you said you would do anything” you whine with a pout to your servant. “Your highness I-I might’ve of offered but I didn’t think you would need this! And your father- ohhh no, your father is a very scary man and I don’t think if I-“ you shush Lloyd, the same old male servant from before from the stairway. “shhhh. Keep it down! you aren’t doing anything you aren’t supposed to be doing, just play along. Just- Please.. “ You reply with hopelessness at this point, looking down.

you had hatched the perfect plan. You made it as though you were sleeping in your bed, forming your pillows to the shape of your body underneath the comforter. You were all dressed and had your mask on but even so, you would just have to avoid your personal staff and your parents, no one knew you were the princess and what you looked like.

Your father had luckily assigned Lloyd to sit outside your chamber with the guards. The routine is usually a servant will come in and out, checking on you from time to time making sure you are okay before letting the guards know. they would sit there all night which you had gotten used to over the course of your life.

You were always being watched and protected. a sigh interrupts your thoughts “if you’re caught, I knew nothing.” he says in defeat. your eyes widen with a bright glow and you feel your heart skip a beat before jumping into his arms “thank you, thank you, thank you” you whisper. he knows he shouldn’t be doing this but he can’t help but feel for you and your situation.

But the way you lit up and how fast he heard your heart go at his answer, he didn’t regret agreeing. Suddenly he pulled away from the embrace to face you, “Okay princess but you have to promise me not to leave the castle! please stay within the ball and please don’t get recognized. If you’re in danger please just run back to your chamber and reveal yourself to the servants so we can help you. And-“ the old man was about to continue before you cut him off “I promise I’ll be safe. just leave it all to me” you smiled at him.

He sighed out before he looked down at you and tried to return the smile but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. “Okay your highness” He replied. You give him one last smile before you let go and he dismisses himself.

Hearing your chamber door closed, you slowly walked up to your mirror, taking one last look. you were adorned with a long black dress, thin short sleeves resting on your shoulders, décolletage exposed wearing a pearl necklace with a dark green emerald laid in between your collarbones. your bangs were slightly pinned back just enough to show off your black lace mask.

Wearing your silk black gloves, you pulled up your mask to your face. this was the night. Tonight would be the night of your life. you feel yourself start to shake, before you suddenly feel the urge to throw up from all the adrenaline already.

you swallow it back holding your stomach. You thought this would be easy, thinking of it so many times before but now that you’re actually doing it, you are very frightened. You’ve never been by yourself, you’ve never been in public and mostly, you’ve never disobeyed your father.

You start to rethink your decisions. It’s not too late to undress and head to bed your good conscience says. father would never know. no. something snaps in you saying “it’s now or never”.

you shake your hands breathing in and out walking back and forth from your window before looking out to check for the outside night guards. You planned on jumping out your window and making your way to the ball since you’re only up on the second floor. There was also a small tool-shed in front of your window so you decided that you could easily make that jump to on top of it.

Once you’ve noticed that the guards finished their round near your window and were out of sight, you decide you have to just do it, or else you never will. without thinking, you opened your window ever so slightly before making the jump to the top of that very shed you’ve thought about jumping onto for years.

—

breathing in and out while looking up at the stars, you just lay there, on top of the tool shed. “I did it” you thought. You start to quietly giggle to yourself.

Even if you didn’t make it to the ball, this was enough. this was the furthest you’ve ever been outside the castle by yourself and it was simply outside your window. you catch eye of the Big Dipper, noting how prettier it looks outside.

You’ve seen the Big Dipper many times before from your window but to be apart of it outside, feels different. there are no walls surrounding you, just miles and miles of horizon. you feel like you’re in space.

“wow..” you say. You’re enjoying being in this new space before you’re brought back to reality with the sound of a snap of a twig. you quickly sat up and gasped.

you looked around into the darkness, squinting in hopes that would somehow improve your night vision. you quickly climb off once you decide that the coast is clear, making your way into the night. you can’t shake the feeling that someone or something is watching you though so you pick up your pace to the entrance.

Turns out your feeling was right. someone was watching you, not a threat though. the hybrid watched in the dark with curiosity as you made your way to the front of the palace. “Hmm” a low voice grumbles from the dark as you’re already long gone.

—

“woah…” you say in amazement at the crowd. You made your way to the front entrance where every hybrid of all ages were laughing and chattering. everyone looks beautiful and exquisite, definitely fit for a Royal ball.

You can’t help but smile like you never smiled before in your life. in awe of the different faces and smells, you find yourself all of a sudden getting pushed inside as everyone makes their way in. the crowd forming a moving wave toward the entrance with you in it so you decide to just go with the flow hoping you won’t trip.

As the crowd moves towards inside, it doesn’t take long before everyone starts to disperse into a large and grand ballroom. You gasp in astonishment, why haven’t you ever seen the ballroom when it was decorated like this?

Yes you’ve passed by it many times but the room was always empty and plain. It always felt spacious and dark, a lonely room. but tonight was different, the room had come alive with warmth and gold.

It was as if what was missing were people, smiles and laughter. It felt like an another dimension, the layout was your home but you were somewhere completely different. You made your way to the side of the room, leaning against the wall and just taking in the scene before you.

The sound of trumpets startle you from your bewilderment, panicking and immediately ducking down because you know that could only mean your father is going to make his entrance. “Woahh there miss, it’s just the horns for the king” a deep voice makes you turn your head.

A tall man standing in front of you makes your stomach drop. Looking him up and down real quick you realize, he’s a knight. you’ve never been this close to anyone but your servants, let alone having to speak to them. “o-oh yeah. I know” you quickly say before trying to hide again.

You look at the grand staircase in the middle of the room where it looks like your father will be entering from. Feeling your heart beat faster you turn back to get another look at the man’s face beside you before realizing he hadn’t broken his eye contact on you since he’s spoked. he was wearing a black eye mask but you could tell that he was handsome.

His heart shaped lips and angular jawline. He had dark hair and dark eyes to match, you could feel your palms getting hot and a weird fluttering feeling go off in your stomach just by looking at him. “is there a reason why you don’t smell of hybrid miss?” he broke your thought whilst smirking.

Wait what, smell? “what do you mean?” you question. He continues “well it’s just that, every hybrid has a certain scent that others can decipher as hybrid but it seems that…” he leans closer to smell you as you shiver from the sudden close contact “you don’t have a scent. Not a hybrid scent anyway, and as a hybrid, I shouldn’t even be having to explain this to you as you should know this… right?” He smiles. Shit, you are screwed.

You didn’t know that. otherwise you would’ve stayed in your chamber. Humans and hybrids have differentiating scents? your father never really told you these things as he thought you wouldn’t need to know them.

God damn it, father, you thought to yourself. “I just-“ you were about to continue when you were saved by the bell, or at least you thought you were. It was your father speaking. “Welcome to the 34th annual masquerade ball! please help yourself to refreshments and dance to your heart's content! please enjoy!” He finishes with a bow.

Everyone begins clapping as you find yourself sneaking away to get back to your chamber. Making your way out, you suddenly feel your wrist being grabbed, you gasped before your turned to face the same man you were talking to before. “I know you’re the princess, and I know you shouldn’t be here” he admits with a soft voice.

You feel your knees turn into noodles as you’re caught. “Please oh please don’t tell my Father, I was just about to go back into my chamber-“ you’re cut off when something quickly partially covers your sight. the room went quiet from the sudden fast flying object. you look above the thing partially covering your sight before you realize what it was.

An arrow. in between yours and the man’s face. You gasp, breath hitching, trembling as you look at the man in front of you who also has wide eyes. he suddenly covers you and picks you up bridal style without a thought and yells “THE PRINCESS IS BEING ATTACKED” everyone starts to scream and duck once everyone registers what’s going on.

“the princess?” “What is she doing here” screams and confused chatter quickly spread amongst the ball all the while, your father is standing on top of the stairs frozen in bewilderment.

What were you doing here? Who was attacking? Who’s going after his little girl? Why can’t he move? He can’t do anything but watch everything unfold in shock, still like a statue.

The voices of servants and knights trying to get orders from him, just registering as ringing in his ears. His mouth slightly agape, amongst the chaos, one of his best knights pulls him by the shoulders. “MY LORD” suddenly a loud voice abruptly brought him back from his frozen shock.

He looks up before realizing it’s one of the lucky seven. Ironically, he feels lucky because of this. “get my daughter out of here” is all the king could muster before the knight gave him a stern nod.

Running down the stairs, the knight yells out to his pack member carrying the princess “HOBI, GET HER TO NAMJOON” hobi nods while running to the front to where the said knight named Namjoon resided. The aforementioned knight running down the stairs then took out his sword and quickly looked for his other pack members to take down the asalients.

—

you’re frozen. You can’t do anything but watch the horror unfold. This is all your fault, it had to be. People were pushing each other, screaming and crying.

Everyone was running for their lives all the while you were being carried by this unknown knight. You could feel the regret and fear in your stomach churning together to create this whole new awful feeling. You just wanted to go home, you regretted ever coming out.

Your train of thought is broken when the two of you finally made it outside. An even taller and buff looking man ran up to you guys. “Hobi, what’s going on?” he asks concerned while looking back at you both and everyone running past you guys. Who you guess is Hobi, puts you down and replies “this is the princess, she’s being attacked. We need to hide her until the others calm everything down, king’s orders”

Namjoon looks at you in shock “the princess?” before quickly shaking his head, snapping himself out of his own shock before saying “alright, I’ll take her from here”. The buff looking man quickly shape-shifts into his animal form, a large dark grey wolf.

Hobi quickly puts you on top of his back before saying “hang on tight your highness” you do as your told and hold onto the wolf around its shoulders, not being able to wrap your arms fully around because of how truly large he was. Letting your hands sink into his fur, you grab on before he suddenly starts running.

You turn around as the palace behind you becomes smaller and smaller and the screams become quieter and quieter. You turn back to face forward before letting yourself succumb to your adrenaline, now feeling safe. This fur is warm you think to yourself before drifting to sleep, all the while you somehow held onto the hybrid tight the whole ride, too scared to let go or be alone even whilst asleep.

a/n; okay so I know I said I would start writing chapter one tomorrow but I couldn’t wait, I wanted to get the story rolling before I started writing tomorrow again. anyway what did you think? why didn’t Lloyd tell y/n about humans and hybrids having different scents? who was watching her while she was on top of the tool shed? and how did hobi know y/n was the princess 🤔 also who was the knight that broke the king out of his thoughts? So many questions unanswered but continue reading to see what happens! we will be meeting the boys properly next chapter :)

Next chapter:

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Where you left me

Based on that Twilight scene… this is rather short and not my best work. I’m trying to get back into the swing of writing. Life has been stressful. Enjoy, M’loves!!

Blurb: Vecna is coming for Eddie and to keep you safe… he has to leave.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Eddie x Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/no comfort. Angst. Talk of death. Relationship break-up.

-

You met him where you always did. At the old rickety picnic table that was close to wood rot and had outlived your grandparents by at least a decade. It was buried deep between the thick weighty trees of the forest.

It was your spot. Yours and His.

A secluded place you could always count on; a safe haven you could flee to when the world got too much.

But something about this time set your nerves on end. The spontaneity of the meeting left your palms feeling clammy and your knees jittering with every half step you take toward Eddie’s perched frame.

His head hung low from his shoulders- he looked like a defeated warrior. Done. Packed up and ready to go home. Leaving the battlefield of lost souls burning behind him; his suit of armour covered in blood.

“Ed’s?” Your voice is punctuated with the crack of twigs and the crisp of fallen leaves beneath the rubber soles of your sneakers. You avoid sitting down, too afraid of the conversation that may follow and your eyes settle on the shrunken brown pine needles that coat the wooden table. Autumn is upon you.

The mere sound of your voice is enough to cause Eddie to scatter to his feet; clearly he had been awoken from a deep, dream like trance.

“Hi, sweetheart.” One of his hands palm at the back of his neck nervously whilst the other is draped across his abdomen as he hugs himself close. It’s something you had caught him doing whenever he was uncomfortable; or whenever he was afraid.

And you felt puzzled more than anything else, because why would Eddie— your Eddie, be uncomfortable around you?

“Is everything alright? You seem—“

“Everything is fine. Or it will be…” he takes two steps back from you, his normally soft brown eyes are sharp and alert as they take in the forest that you are both submerged in. You hadn’t seen Eddie like this before. So withdrawn and skittish.

“Thank god,” You let out an airy wheeze that could pass as a laugh, “For a moment I thought you might be breaking things off with me…” it’s your turn to pull your coat tighter around your frame. All of a sudden you feel the growing cold temperature around you. It’s as if this had been prophesied and even the weather knows something horrible is about to happen.

The clouds darken in colour and a ominous shadow is cast wide across the forest and its surroundings. Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet and a frustrated groan hits your ear: shrill and heart wrenching.

“Eddie? What’s going on?” You dare to ask.

“I… I have to leave. I have to leave town.” He can’t meet your gaze. Because if he does, if he allows himself to be swept into your glossy saucers of pure love and soul, he won’t be able to leave. He won’t go. He would stay and fight and protect you.

But if he leaves, you are automatically protected. Without all of the blood. Without the loss and the grief. He could protect you from afar. He had to leave you. He had to break your heart. Or he would come for you…

Vecna would come for the town. He wasn’t willing to take that risk.

Your life for his. That’s what he agreed.

“Okay… okay, well I can come with you.” You protest confidently and slightly excited, inching closer to Eddie’s towering frame, “I can think of something to tell my family and… and… where did you want to go?” You gulp, becoming restless, “Why do you have to leave?” You couldn’t understand. You couldn’t understand unless he told you.

“No.”

You freeze at the sternness in his voice. Your throat running dry.

“I said I’m leaving. Not we. Not us.” He looks at you for the first time since you arrived, “I don’t want you to come.”

You blink your wide eyes silently, your brain is like a wild fire and all you can seem to mutter is, “Did I do something wrong? I can be better… I can change. Please, Eddie. You can’t… you can’t leave me here.”

Your pleas cause Eddie’s chest to wind into a tight knit and hot iron like tears to prick at his eyes like sharp pins. He wanted to envelop you in his arms and tell you how sorry he is and how perfect you are for him. You didn’t need to change a single thing. He loved you. He loves you.

But he couldn’t.

He had to break you.

He had to make you hate him.

“You can’t change my mind.” It surprises Eddie just how able he is to keep up this painful facade without bursting into a puddle of tears and crumbling to your feet to beg for forgiveness.

“Please—“ you’re tearing up now and it makes Eddie hate himself more.

“I don’t want you anymore.” The words slice at his throat on the way up and it’s as if he is choking on his own blood, “I’m not going to tell you where I’m going because you’ll follow me.” Only now is he able to take a few steps toward your quaking frame. You have managed to suppress the tears, but Eddie knows how deeply he has just wounded you.

“I won’t survive without you. Eddie— Ed’s. Don’t… don’t do this to me. Please.” Your cold face becomes slicked with warm tears and Eddie bites back what he really wants to say.

‘I’m doing this because I love you. I’m doing this because I need you to be safe. I need to know that I have a future with you in it. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I love you… I love you…’

Eddie settles for a pathetic, “I’ll see you again.” And you stand as still as a concrete statute, afraid to move and hoping that this is all just one massive nightmare. You feel the warmth of Eddie’s arms engulf you and you are sure that when you reopen your closed eyes that you’ll be at home. In the comfort of your plush bed. None of this would have happened. Eddie wouldn’t have left you, “I’m sorry, love.” He plants a chaste kiss to your hairline and his lips linger before they disappear completely.

And he does abandon you. When you open your eyes you are standing alone. Cold to the touch. Freezing. You swear you can feel ice crystallising on your skin and your fingertips feel as stiff as rock.

You don’t move. Still you don’t move. You can’t. Your brain is screaming but your mouth remains sewn tightly shut. You are in shock.

Despair. Gloom. Caught in a trap that you can no longer escape from.

And just when you think you have finally mustered the strength to take a step forward— just when you believe you can run into the night and call after Eddie.

You collapse to the frozen dirt with a harsh thud and a teary wince.

The first noise to leave your mouth in minutes is a scream.

A scream as hot as malted lava. A scream that leaves your throat bleeding and raw. A scream that’ll leave you voiceless.

A scream that becomes a cry. A cry that becomes a sob.

And a sob that becomes slumber. You fall asleep on the dry and stick covered ground of the forest. The last thing you see before you succumb to the darkness is the looming trees that tower over your lowered and huddled frame. They shelter you from the brewing storm.

But they couldn’t save you from a torn heart.

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll @purplewitchcauldron @manitskatrina @georgeweasleyslostearhq

[smoft-demons]

If you aren't busy could you try writing about an mc that looks identical to Lilith and maybe even has a similar name example: lily, Lillian etc. (If you can, maybe mc that has a similar personality with lilith) And Ofc its platonic. (sorry if you don't understand, I barely ask on tumblr(⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

Also! It can be fluff or angst (if you can't write all of the brothers lucifer, belphegor and Beelzebub would be fine(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

Mc can be gender neutral! (You can choose whatever format you're comfortable with)

Ofc if u don't want to its fine, i just saw your requests open

Sorry if this is too long(⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

Sure! No worries about it being too long, it gives me lots to work with :)

First request yay! Hope you like it

MC’s name is Lily

Lucifer:

Lucifer double-takes when he first sees you. He knew your name in advance, but looking at you, seeing the resemblance… it shocks him.

He keeps a straight face, however.

It becomes increasingly obvious that he has a soft spot for you. It grows softer and softer as he gets to know you.

When you harmlessly disobey him, he can’t help but let you off. Lilith was a bit of a rebel too, and you look just like her when you’re trying to be sneaky

He loses it when you put yourself in danger! You remind him so much of his baby sister, who he gave everything he could for… and he’s supposed to keep this blasted human alive, so help him he will succeed! It’s a matter of pride—and also trauma.

All that is there, but still Lucifer makes an effort to pay attention to the differences between Lilith and you. Few as there may be, he will not cloud his own judgement by thinking of you as the new her.

And he will not do you the disservice of acting like you’re someone you’re not.

When the ancestry reveal happens, he’s not exactly surprised. It’s still great news, but… not shocking!

He’s already had his crisis about not being unfair to you by acting like you’re a replacement, so he’s actually pretty good about not saying anything hurtful along those lines.

Beelzebub:

He can’t bear to look at you at first

I mean really, how he’s grieving his sister plus how he’s missing his twin… what’s he supposed to do? You’re in Belphie’s spot, and you’re called Lily, and you’re even acting like her… his heart aches

Good news tho, he definitely won’t eat you

He feels AWFUL for scaring you that one time, about the custard

And that conversation when he opens up to you about that impossible choice he had to make about who to save? He won’t admit it to you or to himself, but a big part of why he asked you who you would have chosen is that he hopes you can give him some insight into what Lilith would have chosen. If she would have made the choice he did.

Once you’ve become good friends with him, he does make an effort to not confuse you with his sister… but it’s hard for him, especially if you look and act like her. He’s really trying!

He would want to hug you for hours after having nightmares of falling. It helps him feel like maybe he’s not a total failure of a protector

He’s giving Mammon a run for his money in terms of being protective of you.

Beel finds himself conflicted after the big reveal. He’s overjoyed to have Belphie back, but he’s so angry with him for hurting you, and also he’s so upset with himself for not realizing Belphie was trapped in the attic the whole time, and ALSO he’s struggling with keeping you separate from Lilith in his mind, similar and genuinely connected as you are, and that makes him feel even more guilty because he genuinely does love you just for yourself. He feels like it’s very mean to you if he lets himself be distracted from that.

This is further complicated by you naturally falling into the role of his baby sister. He loves having you in that role, but it’s hard. A bit triggering. He’s working through it!

All in all, he’s a good big brother. He’d be overjoyed to hear it if you tell him that.

Belphegor:

Learning your name sends him spiralling. He was thinking of this exchange program as a betrayal to Lilith’s memory, he thought Lucifer had forgotten about her, he thought Lucifer didn’t care, but he chose a human named LILY?? Is this him being manipulative, is this coincidence, does it mean he HASN’T stopped caring, does it mean he’s trying to replace their lost baby sister with some human?

Belphie can’t figure it out.

He hangs onto his hatred. He carries out the first steps of his plan

When you meet him, he just… stares. You look like her…

He refuses to cry about it! He sticks to the script, lying to your face as planned, summoning all the hatred and resentment in his fallen heart.

But… you keep coming back. Not just to update him about your pact collecting, but also… just to chat? Checking on him, bringing him small snacks and things that fit through the gaps in the door, telling him about what his brothers are up to, reminding him that Beel misses him terribly and no one has forgotten about him

He’s finding it hard to keep hating you. In all honesty, he’s grown fond of you! But he has a plan and he’s sticking to it! You’re NOT his sister, and nothing short of a miracle can convince him to let go of his resentment!

In timeline A, after the first jailbreak, he never gets around to harming you. He can’t figure out if it’s due to laziness, lack of opportunity, fondness for you on his part, or not wanting to make Beel sad. This becomes irrelevant of course, after Diavolo imprisons him

In timeline B, you’re sent back in time to see how he got released. You open the door, he offers you the hug, you accept.

It’s… nice, for a long moment. Gentle and warm and comfy.

And then he regains his determination, going ahead with his plan to kill you. He gets as far as “Finding it hard to breathe?” before he looks at you. Expecting to feel sadistic satisfaction at seeing a human face screwed up in pain like that. But… you look like his baby sister.

You look just like his baby sister, and you’re scared and hurt. His baby sister… panicking and tearful, because of HIM

He can’t do it

His grip relaxes. He doesn’t let you go, but he’s no longer hurting you.

He’s shaking.

You feel… moisture in your hair. Your throat is bruised and bleeding from his claws digging into your skin. You’re wheezing through your crushed airway. Your brain is flooded with adrenaline. Your prey terror hasn’t let up, as the demon who was threatening your life is still holding you, and he’s CLEARLY still unstable. But, maybe crying from guilt is safer than cold determination to murder you…?

At this point, the others rush in. Mammon tears you away from Belphie. Beel is frozen in horrified confusion. Belphie is having a breakdown on the floor.

Diavolo and Barbatos fill everyone in. Belphie can’t even look at you, he feels so awful.

As you both heal, you get closer. You become real friends. You learn what aspects of the Belphie you knew from the attic were lies, and the surprising amount of things that were true. With everyone’s help, Belphie really digs deep and commits to finally unpacking his trauma and his survivor’s guilt and his grief.

Once you trust him enough—and he trusts himself enough—he takes every opportunity to spoil you. He’ll cuddle you whenever you want, he’ll make sure you don’t get any nightmares, he’ll share his food, he’ll even let you wake him up for dumb things without getting mad at you.

______

I didn’t have many ideas for the rest. I had some for Mammon, but nowhere near as many as for these three. I might add the Mammon ideas as a short bonus later, if I have the energy or any more inspiration.

[angyalikira]

sfw + nsfw relationship headcanons for mike schmidt

author's note: had a lot of thoughts regarding this pretty boy and i decided to finally write them down! do tell me if you have similar or totally different hcs for him, would love to hear everyone's opinions <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

sfw

⋆ super awkward at first and says some embarrassing stuff because he doesn't know how to act around you

⋆ gets more comfortable with time and the conversations flow more naturally

⋆ enjoys observing you and your reactions to anything really

⋆ doesn't initiate a lot of conversation at first because he sucks at it, but that doesn't mean he isn't interested

⋆ be prepared to be the one to initiate meet ups and conversations a lot (he really appreciates you for doing that though)

⋆ tries to be super respectful and always keeps an appropriate distance between you guys

⋆ you have to sit closer to him or stand right next to him so he gets the hint that you are comfortable with being closer to him

⋆ in the beginning he does ask if it is alright to sit so close to you

⋆ either you have to confess or he confesses randomly one day bc he slipped up

⋆ he doesn't think himself worthy of your attention or love, that's why he never planned to confess

⋆ if he's the one who confesses on accident, he will panic because he fears that this will make you distance yourself from him

⋆ please please PLEASE reassure this boy and give him a big hug so he knows you feel the same way and can calm a bit down

⋆ on the first day he still can't wrap his mind around how you reacted positively to his confession and that you feel the same way

⋆ it takes a bit of reassurance and confirmation that yes you DO actually like him and yes you really do want to be with him

⋆ once he gets comfortable with the idea, he will be so clingy and touchy

⋆ still fears to loose you and that you might change your mind so he wants to show you how much you mean to him in every possible way

⋆ he cooks for you, he lets you borrow his clothes, he gives you a lot of cuddles

⋆ what he still struggles with at first is kissing you whenever he wants (which he could do now)

⋆ so please kiss this pretty boy often so he can get comfortable with that too

⋆ at first his kisses are soft and slow, holding and treating you with utmost care

⋆ his heart always feels like it will explode when you guys kiss, he feels so much love for you

⋆ but once he gets used to kissing you he gets more needy and a bit sloppy, like his life depended on it

⋆ he never gets too rough with it though, he respects you too much to ever treat you roughly

⋆ he also loves your cheek kisses, it makes him feel so loved

⋆ now let's get to hand holding – his favourite activity

⋆ he finds your hands so soft and warm, if he could he would never let go of them

⋆ he will find any excuse to hold your hand as much as he can: while cooking (to show off how good he is with only using one of his hands), while cuddling and watching a show, while going out and about (he's also a bit possessive of you)

⋆ he also LOVES when you link your arms together, especially when you snuggle up to him that way

⋆ makes him feel very manly and protective of you (in a non toxic way ofc)

⋆ this man is so touch starved, he will thrive so much on the smallest of gestures in general

⋆ he loves when you play with his hair, makes his headaches immediately disappear

⋆ he loves to be the small spoon since he is so used to being the protector and provider, it's nice to just be held and being cared for sometimes

⋆ another cuddling position he loves is holding you in his arms while you have abby in yours, that way he can hold his whole world in his arms

⋆ sleeping with him also includes either him sleeping on top of you, you sleeping on top of him or you snuggled up to his side. point is he has to touch you in some way

⋆ going back to his slightly possessive side, he ADORES when you wear his clothes

⋆ those times he feels like he is on cloud nine and he wishes he could just freeze this moment and live in it forever

⋆ he loves the domestic vibes of it (he is very domestic in general)

⋆ tries to act like it's not that big of a deal to him but you see right through him

⋆ it also makes him feel good when you are meeting other people while wearing his clothes, it's like marking you to him

⋆ he in fact adores it so much that you could be standing in the kitchen with his shirt on on a random day and he would come in, see you and seriously debate if he should just ask you to marry him right then and there

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

nsfw

⋆ idc what anyone else says, this man is not a dom – he's so submissive (maybe he has little switch side too him but that's it)

⋆ he LOVES when you take absolute control and boss him around

⋆ make him beg and he will cum just by the thought of touching you

⋆ he loves being overstimulated and will cry but beg you to not stop

⋆ he also wants you to be satisfied and comfortable every time, you are his first priority

⋆ he is open to trying things out, he trusts you enough for it

⋆ his favourite position is you on top riding him

⋆ this boy loves to mark you in any way possible

⋆ expect hickeys all over your neck, collarbones and thighs

⋆ he likes to cum deep inside you, another way of him to mark you

⋆ in return he also likes it when you mark him, it's a nice reminder for him that he is yours as you are his

⋆ he gets off on getting his hair pulled and moans every time you do it

⋆ he's a whiner and LOUD, but will try his best to be as quiet as possible (since abby is in the same house)

⋆ regarding abby, he will try to fuck you whenever she is not home but if she is he will try to put on the radio, the tv, anything so she doesn't have to suspect anything

⋆ he also won't risk doing it outside his room, he doesn't want to disturb her in any way or form

⋆ that being said, he loves being teased and getting excited to fuck

⋆ especially when you guys are out with others and you tease him under the table

⋆ since he is a bit socially awkward he will have a hard time managing the conversations and keeping a straight face but he loves the thrill of it

⋆ but just as before, he loves and cares for you too much to just fuck you out in public (even in the public toilets), he will wait till you guys get home so he can have you in private

⋆ he likes to go multiple rounds and enjoys spending a lot of time with you

[half-dead-ham]

With chaos brings Justice

My last entry for the DpxDCshipweek, sad I couldn't get through it in it entirety, but happy I made some for it at all!

links: [Ao3] Wc: 6656 Cw: implied/referenced torture

John Constantine was a man of few pleasures. He liked booze, nights with a full bed and belly, and keeping his head attached to his shoulders.

 So when he felt a surge of chaos magic flood the board room of the Justice League Watchtower one long morning into their bi-monthly meeting that for some reason he decided to show up to, he felt any chance of him recovering this day with booze or food leave the solar system entirely.

 Before the other Leaguers even felt the pressure change that came with teleporting magics John was on his feet, readying a defence spell just in case who (or what) decided to attack first, talk second. ‘Course the other gits just saw him knock back his chair with a flask of whatever he’d poured himself last night and thought for a second he was trollied.

 He always loved it when the other blokes did that. Fuckin’ hell, where was Zatanna when you needed her?

 He would’ve cracked a smile when the rest of them finally got the memo that sumthin’ foul was afoot, but John was too focused on the fact that he recognized the magic to try and play this off as anything but deadly serious. Why was he the only one here that was able to deal with this particular brand of chaos? Why couldn’t he have bloody stayed home like all the other bloody times he’d missed a meeting?

 The magic was perceptible now, a swirling red cloud hovering over the conference table like it might start raining blood, a static in the air, the smell of lamp oil and chaos magic making John's nose twitch. There wasn’t any use in trying to fool himself as a figure formed in the cloud, and any trace of those lovely effects of his bevvy of choice went straight out the airlock.

 A pale-faced child emerged from the mist, curly black hair with two styled points partially obscuring a set of beady black eyes that looked down their nose at the group surrounding the table.

 “Klarion,” the teen turned to John, expression unusually flat. The witch boy Hadn’t yet said anything, and his blasted familiar kept its place on his shoulder, hissing but not leaping into action.

 Now that John got a good look at the chaos magic user he almost wanted to look surprised. Klarion had changed his style; no longer was he dressed in puritan settler chic, now he wore dark jeans with black converse, a white t-shirt with the runic symbol for creation in red, and a black sleeveless overcoat. It looked grunge, and John could almost appreciate it.

 Almost.

 “Now what does the infamous Witch Boy need that he’s ‘ported in 'on our lovely gathering?” John asked, seeing as the teen (an’ he looked like a proper teen now, didn’ he?) wasn’t feeling especially chatty. His defensive spell was almost complete, if John could just keep the lil shit distracted for a little longer-

 “Stupid heroes, I have come because I have a task for you,” the Witch boy announced, looking like he sucked a lemon while saying it.

 John could see a few others in the room looking at each other in confusion, but he kept his eyes firm on the brat in front of him. “Oh? An’ what task would require our services, oh mighty mage?”

 The Witch Boy’s eyes narrowed at him, clearly not liking the sarcasm in his tone. Surprisingly, to him at least, Klarion turned to Superman, not falling to the taunt like he would’ve before.

 “Someone I respect has been captured by the American government, and while I would have no problem raising the place to the ground myself-” more than a few of the heroes present tense at that, “-this person would only find more trouble in me doing so.”

 Now that brought up a nice heap of questions for the surrounding men in tights. Why, or better yet how does Klarion know someone that needs help from the Justice League. Someone who he apparently respects enough to go for help from a group of stuffy adults with sticks shoved so far up their-

 "And why should we help you?" The big ol' Bat asks what's on the tip of everyone's tongues.

 Klarion turns to the Caped Crusader with the most serious expression John had ever seen on the Witch Boy. "Because the High King of the Dead needs help escaping the living, and you guys love to make sure this stupid plane of existence doesn't fall to war."

~~~~~

   "You seriously aren't helping, Witch Boy!" Danny calls out to the cackling teenager as he evades yet another tentacle from the thing coming out of the side of a large floating island. More of a mountain, really, but Danny's a little too tied up to care.

 "Hit 'em again!" The pale-faced teen on the sidelines jeered as the ghost boy shot off another volley of ectoblasts towards what he's starting to dub as a hermit-ectopus. Grimacing, Danny did just that, raining a hail of green towards the writing mass of tentacles, finally pushing the thing back in its cave enough so that he could seal the entrance with ice.

 With that out of the way, Danny could finally take a breather. He put his hands on his knees for stability as he panted, annoyed. Ancients curse that stupid Witch Boy, he may not need to breathe in this form, but that was one hell of a workout. 

 The cackling to his left was finally starting to die down, but not before he heard the idiot making his way closer. One final exhale and he straightened back up, giving the other teen a side glare Mr. Lancer would be proud of.

 "Give me one good reason I shouldn't soup you right now, cat boy," he demanded with a scowl as he crossed his arms.

 "'Cause you still need me to help you get that stupid antidote for your stupid friends!" Klarion quipped back immediately, smug smirk stuck on his face. "Besides, it's not like your weak little can'll be able to do anything to me."

 "You're the one who poisoned them in the first place," he sneered back, letting his hatred of the other boy leak out through his aura while trying not to worry himself over Sam and Tucker back home.

 Klarion got closer, smirk growing menacingly wider, "Well who was the ghost that kept ignoring me? This is your fault and you know it."

 Danny said nothing, just punched Klarion in the face before flying off into the mountain grumbling, leaving the Witch Boy to deal with the blood falling onto his tie by himself.

~~~~~

   "Constantine, what do you know about this 'High King of the Dead'?" Batman asked after pulling the mage into the hall. They had left Superman to deal with the details and negotiations. He's always been better at that.

 "Not much, Batsy," John sighed, really wishing he could pull out a smoke. If it weren't for those blasted 'no smoking' rules the furry in front of him enforced, he'd be chugging like a train right 'bout now.

 Batman simply glared at the man for a moment before John got the unsaid ‘well, get on with it’. “Alright, alright, I do know some things, but I don’t know how useful they’ll be!”

 “Explain.”

 John sighed, “Not much information about the ruling body of the dead gets through to the realm of the living, that whole ‘dead men tell no tales’ bit. What I know of a King of the dead was that he was a right bastard that wanted his cake and e’ryone else's. Got locked in some coffin or what have you by his ruling court, and hasn’t been heard from for about two millennia ‘til the new one came about.”

 “And this new king, is he anything like the last one?”

 Before John could confirm or contradict the question a sharp laugh came from the other side of the conference doors. The two detectives looked at each other before heading back in, Klarion watching from his seat on the table as they rejoined the group.

 “The new High King of the Dead is nothing like the last one,” the Witch Boy stated with a sneer.

 Batman turned to Superman, asking with a silent tilt of the head. He got a head shake and shrug in return. “We were talking about why he would need us specifically when he just started laughing.”

 “Oh?” The occult detective spoke up, “And what makes you say that? If you respect him he must be pretty similar, eh? Why do you or him need our help?”

 Klarion looked down, a pinched expression taking over his face. “He’s nothing like me. He’s good.”

~~~~~

   Wind tore through Danny’s hair as he flew up to the massive Vortex rampaging through mid- America. He could barely see five feet in front of him before a tree or the rare car nearly takes him out of the sky. Klarion’s magic could be seen on his ten o’clock, trying to stop the raging wind before it throws something at him too. Danny dove to grab onto the magic caster, turning him intangible before the broad side of a barn could crash into him.

 “What did you even do to make him this angry‽” Danny yells over the wind, pulling the concentrating Witch boy to another spot so they could be harder to hit. It doesn’t help, as half a tree still nearly decapitates them.

 “Absolutely nothing!” Klarion ground back through his teeth, “He just started chasing me through the Realms! I thought I could lose him in this plane but he just followed me!”

 Another tree sailed their way, and Danny had to drag the other teen out of its path. He shot a volley of ectoblasts at some clumps of dirt launching themselves at them, breaking them up before they were close enough to hit them.

 “How long ‘til your spell finishes‽” Danny asks, throwing more ectoblasts into the swirling vortex of carnage. The tornado consumes them greedily, returning fire with debris from an old storage barn it had picked up.

 “Not fast enough!” Klarion shouts back, now flying under his own power as the harder parts of the spell conclude.

 They weave through projectiles after that, Danny obliterating the larger objects thrown their way so Klarion could focus more on his spell. They were at least lucky enough that they had lured Vortex out to farm country, where they could easily provoke him out of the way of any towns. That left just the crops and their tools for the weather ghost to throw.

 At least, until Danny spotted some larger buildings.

 “Better speed that spell up, Witch Boy!” Danny urged, realizing they were heading towards the city, and fast.

 “I’m going as fast as I can!” Was all the other teen could retort as he ground his teeth further, doubling his efforts anyway. Red light swirled fiercely around the pale boy, encircling him and his familiar before suddenly launching outwards to wrap around the tornado. The wind picked it up easily, quickly turning the angry winds and clouds above a sickening blood red colour. A triumphant grin spreads across Klarion’s face at the turn of events, a giggle bubbling up before being stolen by the wind. Danny would almost be scared at the situation if it were him that smile was going against, but right now he was just a little relieved.

 Klarion spoke one final word to his spell, and with it the red smoke pulsed bright, lighting up the whole cloud before the funnel just disappeared, leaving some dark yet still clouds above them. Danny could only stare at the sight in awe.

 “What did you do dude?” He asked, noticing the odd change in the air around them. It was strangely still, almost-

 “I froze the air in place, of course,” Klarion huffed hotly, and Danny turned his awed gaze to the teen next to him.

 “You froze the air?” 

 “Well,” Klarion’s cheeks started to gain an almost normal complexion as his blush rose at the attention. “It’s not frozen frozen, but I made it so it wouldn’t move. So yes, I froze the air.”

 When Danny didn’t move or change his expression Klarion’s blush only grew. Teekl gave a lax “meow” from the Witch Boy’s shoulders, breaking Danny’s trance and allowing Klarion the time to unruffle his proverbial feathers. The witch Boy coughed lightly in his hand as he turned away.

 “Teekl’s right, shouldn’t you be doing your job now? I’ve done all the hard work, pick up the slack Ghost Boy.” Only his familiar saw the light green blush spread over the ghosts cheeks before he gave a nod and flew off towards where he could sense the weather spirit.

 “Meow,” Teekl commented playfully.

 Klarion blushed harder, “Oh shut up you hairball.”

~~~~~

   The Javelin was speeding into earth's atmosphere towards the Americas, half of the Leaguers who had been in the meeting previously plus one chaos mage nestled inside. They had decided an impromptu rescue mission was in order, despite some worries of the Witch Boy leading item into a trap.

 Batman remedied this by keeping Superman on standby, Shazam on call, and taking Manhunter with them to catch any lies the teen might be telling them.

 The plane was dead quiet, and it was honestly making Hal antsy, especially sitting so close to someone they consider an enemy. His solution? Small talk.

 “So,” the green lantern drawled as he swiveled his chair to face the teen. “From the way you talk about this King it sounds like you have something a little more than ‘respect’ for the guy. Care to elaborate?”

 Klarion gave the Green Lantern a long side eye, making Hal even antsier in his seat. Seriously, how can a kid this dorky be this creepy?

 A terse meow from the cat in the boy’s lap and the stare broke, and suddenly Hal felt he could breathe again. Klarion sighed heavily, like the topic exhausted him before he even started, but before Hal could rescind his words the Witch Boy was talking.

 “The King of the Dead and I have known each other for a few years now,” he started. “And while at the beginning we were basically at each other's throats, after his coronation we figured out we didn’t really want to be enemies anymore. Looking back we had probably already decided that without saying anything, but it just got awkward to think about after.”

 “This king was crowned recently?” Batman asked from his place at the wheel.

 “Within the last three years, if I remember right,” Klarion replied flippantly. The Bat nodded, taking his focus back to flying to their charted destination. Not wanting more stifling silence, Hal picked the conversation back up.

 “If you’ve known the King of the Dead for over three years you guys must be pretty close, huh?”

 The Witch Boy huffed, “Yes, you could say that.”

 “So could you maybe tell us more about him? What’s he like? Does he have a hobby? Don’t leave us hanging man!” Hal was encroaching on a jeer with his tone, though he died down quickly at the flat stare he received from both mage and familiar. If Diana hadn’t spoken up he might've been afraid of turning into a toad.

 “I am also curious, Klarion. You haven’t told us much about someone you seem to care greatly over, anything you could tell us about them would help us settle whatever dealings they have with the American government.” At the moment the princess mentioned the government Teekl was on alert, Klarion’s expression soured with the change.

 “The ‘dealings’ they have with your stupid higher powers is that they want to hunt his kind for sport and resources,” He spat, to the astonishment of the league members. Bruce and Diana shared a glance from the front seats, dread seeping into Bruce’s gut at the news.

 “Could you explain that further? We need to know if we want to fix this,” Diana asked more seriously, motioning for Hal to take her seat as copilot so she could focus more on the conversation at hand.

 (Hal was thankful for the distraction.)

 “Your government,” the teen hissed, eyes glinting dangerously red before settling back to their eerie black. “Has been trying to catch Phantom since before I met him. They’ve deemed anything that holds ectoplasm in their body as unfeeling and mindless, and deemed them worthy of extermination and experimentation.”

 “That can’t be legal, non-humans are protected under the Metahuman rights acts.” Diana comments with a frown.

 Klarion rolls his eyes at the princess, “Everyone says that when they hear it, but I assure you, Phantom has talked my ear off about the Anti-ecto acts more times than I care to count. They’re real, and heavily enforced.”

 Diana gave a sidelong glance to the front of the ship, noticing Batman already searching for these ‘acts’ while ever so slightly speeding up their flight. It was worrying that even Bruce didn’t know about this, considering his incessant need to keep up with things that could inevitably cause harm to those he wants to protect. She left that for him to deal with, refocusing the conversation back to lighter topics. “You mentioned ‘Phantom’, is this the king’s name?”

 The Witch Boy gave a small hum, hand moving to idly stroke Teekl’s fur as they settled with the change of topic. “He told me it was originally the name he chose for himself when he started protecting his little town, and by the time he was crowned the ghosts all knew him by that name and it stuck.”

 “Oh? The king is a hero?” Aside from Deadman, she had never heard of any spirits calling themselves heroes. Though it wasn’t entirely a surprise that another spirit wished to help others from beyond the grave.

 Another hum from the teen in front of her, face reading more thoughtful as he presumably went back to the first time they had met. “Yes, he was doing something incredibly stupid, though he called it ‘heroic’ at the time. I still don’t see why he needed to destroy that artifact after he rewrote reality, but then again he was still a boy when he did that.”

 …

 “Pardon?” Diana said, stunned. Klarion either didn't notice the stunned silence he had created or didn’t care as he continued.

 “After that I went to play with him every so often, sometimes playing a few pranks so he would stop ignoring me. He absolutely hated me when we first started, but I like to think I grew on him,” the Witch Boy gave a smirk at the memory, still not noticing the silence in the shuttle.

 She could feel Hal’s eyes on them, incredulity practically oozing from his seat in front of her. Instead of meeting the Green Lanterns with one that was sure to match, she looked to J’onn, who had quietly been assessing their guest the whole flight. He had his head cocked as he faced the teen, but nodded when Diana turned. The boy told no lies.

 They might need to reassess this King of the Dead’s threat level.

~~~~~

   A cacophony of cheers resound in the courtyard of Pariah’s Keep, now renamed officially to Phantom’s Fortress with the crowning of the new king. Danny peered out from beyond the curtain to the courtyard, his ascendance ceremony freshly ended and a crown of arora and ice twirling lazily over his snow white hair.

 “I still can’t believe this many ghosts want me on the throne… I thought everyone hated me with the way I chase them out of Amity all the time…” He marveled to himself, still not quite believing what just happened. He was a King now. He had people to rule. And they actually liked him.

 Though with the reputation of the last king, he supposed that a potato could’ve taken the throne and they would’ve been happy.

 “Is it that hard to believe that maybe you aren’t that hard to like?” A voice jokes from behind the new king, and turning from his peeping spot he couldn’t help the grin that spread. Klarion was standing not too far behind him, one arm behind his back in the clothes they picked out together. He looked good, like he belonged in this century now, and even with his posture radiating nervous energy, Danny could tell he was a lot more comfortable in a t-shirt and jeans than that stuffy puritan suit.

 “I was thinking those odds were in-phantasmal, but I guess the chance was higher than I thought. I’m glad you could make it.” His smile grew slightly at the pink tint to the Witch Boy’s ears, but he went against the thought of pointing out how cute it was.

 Klarion scoffed, as though the notion of not coming was even something that crossed his mind. “As a lord of chaos, it would be remiss of me to not show up for the coronation of a potential fellow lord. Besides, you asked me to come specifically, it would be impolite to refuse.”

 Danny gave a snort at the response, he knew very well that if the other teen didn’t want to be here he would’ve refused the invitation outright. It was nice not having to fight the other anymore, after the battle with Vortex they started fighting less and hanging out more, Danny could even take him to the mall now without a struggle. Sure, Klarion was still trapped in the past with his underground village, but slowly he was starting to relax, have some fun that didn’t destroy everything around him.

 It was nice to hang out with someone he didn’t have to hold back with.

 “So, is there a reason you’re just standing there awkwardly?” Danny asked, letting a chuckle escape at the flat stare he received. A year ago he would’ve gotten a magic blast to the face for that.

 Instead Klarion sighed, eyes glancing around the ornate hall before sighing again. “I figured- I mean- I- ugh…” the Witch Boy kept stuttering before petering off into a grumble. Danny accidentally let another chuckle escape at how cute the other teen was being, causing said teen to glare a hole into the carpet, before letting out a growl. He stomped up to Danny, so close he had to back up a step or they would be in each other's personal space, and suddenly his vision was full of orange and purple with a spatter of red.

 Another step back put the colours in focus. A bouquet of flowers was being thrust towards him by a furiously blushing Klarion, whose eyes were currently on a rather interesting vase.

 “What are these for?” Danny asked as he relieved the bouquet from the others' vice grip.

 “For you, to congratulate you on becoming king. The orange ones are lilies, the purple flowers are irises and gerberas, and the little red ones are bloody williams. The lady at the store said they say “I’m happy for your success” in flower language.” Klarion looked like he was ready to say more, he probably had a whole speech about these, but Danny just couldn’t get over the fact that one of the biggest (previous) pains in his ass just started blushing and gave him flowers.

 “Thank you,” he said, cutting off whatever Klarion was rambling about with a genuine smile. Klarion stared for a second, before blinking and clearing his throat.

 “Of course,” he replied, blush spreading all the way down his neck.

~~~~~

   The Javelin touched down a ways off of a squat white building. It was rather nondescript, save for the perimeter fencing circling the compound lined with guards.

 “This is the place?” Batman asked tersely as they disembarked the plane. None of the armed men had seen them yet, it would give them the advantage in the infiltration.

 “I wouldn’t lie to you about something so important,” the Witch Boy replied, narrowing his eyes at the compound before them. He could feel Danny in there, the strange mix of life and death energies radiating off the half-ghost was an ever present comfort to the Witch boy by now, and he was especially glad for it now.

 He wouldn’t have been able to find him so quickly without it.

 “I sense something heavy in the compound,” Manhunter noted with a frown.

 Batman, ever the detective, wanted to know more, “Elaborate.”

 The martian’s face twisted as he focused, reaching out with his mind to better read the heavy -no, oppressive- cloud that covered the compound, before gasping, recognition and anguish passing over as he physically recoiled. Green Lantern was there to steady him by the shoulders before he could so much as stumble.

 “What did you feel?” The Dark Knight compelled once it was clear there were no lasting effects of his reaching out.

 “Pain,” he replied shakily. “So much pain and suffering, hanging over the building like a fog. It is unnaturally powerful, if I hadn’t known beforehand, I would assume an entire city was under attack and not a single building.”

 The Dark Knight said nothing, simply taking what was said to heart. He moved forward with purpose, but before he could get too far a hand held him back. “Wait.”

 Batman looked down at the chaos mage, a single hand splayed out over his chest. “You need to know some things before I take you in there.”

 The  miniscule tilt of the taller man’s cowl was all Klarion needed to continue. “The facility is phase proof, the martian won’t be able to density shift through the walls, and the nature of their weapons are similar to Green Lantern’s constructs. You won’t get hurt badly if they hit you, but I’ve been told they burn.” All vital things to know. Batman's strategy would have to account for this, but he could still sense something from the teen, and so kept quiet.

 “And when we find Phantom? Get every agent you can out of there. He doesn’t like senseless killing, but I will not leave that building standing.”

 Batman gave a single nod, and with that Klarion enveloped the five in the red mist of his magic.

 ∆•∆•∆•∆

 The plan was rather simple, Wonder Woman and Green Lantern were to be dropped off at the entrance to the building as a distraction and to round up the agents while Klarion, Manhunter and Batman were to use Klarion’s magic to infiltrate and locate the King. Klarion’s mist acted as a memetic, letting the gaze of the agents fall past them on their way through the building as they ran deeper to where he could feel Danny. They had to be careful to not touch anyone though, as the moment they did they would be able to see them.

 “Why can’t you teleport us in?” Baman asked as they rounded another stark white corner into another stark white hall.

 “Death energies, do strange things to magic,” Klarion panted his reply. He was not used to actually running, and he couldn’t figure out why some humans actually liked doing the activity. “With so much, charged death and ectoplasm in the air, better to not cause an explosion. So soon.”

 Another swerve and he could feel Danny more, could almost taste that distinct flavour of citrus and menthol, the strange combination of ectoplasm and life that surrounded his ghost. The smell of citrus was strong though, and Klarion was desperately hoping he wasn’t too late with this rescue. The first real good thing he tries to do and he ends up a moment too late.

 “The source of the pain is drawing nearer,” Manhunter informs them as they pass a windowed room. Batman breaks off to take a look inside, calling to the other two to keep going. Klarion never stopped.

 One more corner and the acidic sour smell of citrus was assaulting their noses, and they started passing doors more resembling operating room entrances than offices. Lights were still on over a few as they passed, and Klarion made sure to snake a coil of mist into those that did, leaving screams and indistinct, cut off pleas in their wake. Those ones especially could rot in hell for all he cared, the smell of everdeath roiled off those rooms, alluding to whatever horrors might have been performed in them. He knew only a fraction of the ectoplasm spilt in there was from the one he cherished, but that made them no less guilty.

 The final turn led them to a hall lined with a different type of door, these ones steel grey tinted green. Klarion loathed to see the colours he associated with his spirit used in a mockery against him, keeping Danny away from him. He stalked down, using his magic to blow every door off its hinges as he passed until he hit the one his beloved was in. Turning to face it, he held up his hand, willing his magic to grasp it and tear it from the wall, throwing it down the hall and uncaring what was in the way.

 Emotion charged ectoplasm rolled out of the small cell, settling around their feet like fog and weakly intermingling with klarion’s magic.

 The sight made the mage want to puke. And weep. And decimate this measly world that would dare touch his soul like this.

 Were it not for the Martian's presence he just might have.

 Danny was there, shackled to the wall with chains at his wrists and ankles, head weighed heavy by the collar around his neck and the fucking muzzle on his face. The ghost made no move to the light that now filtered into the space, he hung limply from his chains, lifelessly. Only the faint glow around Danny’s frame gave away that he was not yet truly ended.

 But the green.

 A shaky breath from behind the mage reminded him where he was, and he urgently entered the room. He went to work on the manacles, seemingly seamless, but with one whispered word they were releasing Danny into his arms.

 “Is he?..” The martian started, too afraid to finish the sentence lest it become a reality.

 “No,” Klarion breathed out shakily. “No he’s still… He’ll recover.” He has to.

 “He’s so young,” Manhunter observed with a pained face as Klarion lowered to the floor of the cell, turning the ghost so he could hold him by the shoulders while he worked on getting his ankles freed.

 “He was even younger when he started,” with Danny's ankles freed, all that was left was the inhibitor collar and that damned muzzle. He did away with the muzzle first, desperate to see his cherished spirit's face. No magic was needed for it, thankfully, just a simple lock keeping it around the halfa’s face. Klarion gingerly removed the offending device, tossing it at a wall and making a note of obliterating it before he left. There were already chafe marks around Danny’s cheeks and on his nose, green and nearly raw from it pressing his jaw shut.

 How long has he been here for them to look so raw?

 Klarion had only been away for two months at the most, off on some insignificant errand after finding the piece of an artifact drifting in the Realms. Insignificant because apparently while he was away, his cherished one had gotten captured trying to save one of his people from this moronic group. When he had finally returned, he had to be informed about his capture. The rage he felt then… He hopes Danny wouldn’t be too mad at him for the damage he caused to the Fortress.

 A breathy groan followed by a sharp intake of breath and subsequent coughing brought Klarion out of his what if spiral. Danny was waking up, bleary eyed and confused at first -no doubt concerning his orientation- but a few seconds after the couches settled green eyes focused on black.

 “Hey, Rion,” the ghost king gave a small watery smile. “Glad you could finally make it. How was  your adventure?”

 “Stupid ghost-” Klarion has to reel back the power he was putting behind his voice with a breath that came out more like a sob. “Do you know how worried I was when you weren’t in Amity? In the Fortress? I was away for two damn months and you almost got yourself ended Danny!”

 Danny gave a chuckle that teetered into more of a cough as he weakly wiggled in Klarions lap. “They tried to grab Lunch Lady and Boxed Lunch, what was I supposed to do? It's my job as king to keep them safe-”

“NOT AT YOUR OWN EXPENSE YOU MORON!”

 The outburst silenced the ghost with a small snap of his jaw, followed by a cut off groan at the soreness from its disuse. A light cough broke the tense silence, and Danny sat up slightly to see what made it, eyes immediately sharp with alertness for any possible danger. His eyes landed on Martian Manhunter and that sharpness melted away to confusion.

 “Is that- why- Am I dreaming?” He stuttered, looking between the Justice leaguer and his lover. “Did I pass out so hard I’m actually dreaming my boyfriend came to save me with Martian Manhunter right now? Someone pinch me.” Klarion obliged the request and Danny yelped in pain. “Yep, okay, not a dream. Cool,” He whimpered, eyes now glued to the martian.

 Klarion went back to the task of freeing the ghost from his restraints, but hesitated before taking the collar off. “Do you have enough power to stay in this form if I take this off you?” He asked cautiously.

 Danny looked down, trying to see the band of metal around his neck, but quickly gave up with a sigh. “Probably not, it's taking most of my energy just to stay awake and talk right now.” He looked ashamed to say it, but Klarion was relieved to get a straight answer about his condition for once.

 “I’ll leave it on until we get you somewhere safe then,” Klarion whispered before readjusting his hands and standing up with the ghost boy bridal-style. The energy must have been draining from his cherished, as he only jolted at the movement. He could see Danny's eyes getting heavy, his head pitching forward before righting itself a few more times.

 “You’ll be there when I wake up… Right?” The Ghost boy asked, voice slurring with the effort to remain conscious. Klarion nodded once as he kissed the ghost's forehead -warmer than it should be- and walked back out of the cell. “Of course, my spirit. Rest.”

 One more wobbly nod and the ghost’s eyes closed. Klarion straightened, reigniting his magic with the help of Teekl and pushing it to blow the rest of the cell doors off their hinges. A few other ghosts floated out, and Manhunter helped a few more into the hall. They left slowly, with magical fire crackling in the prison that once held his spirit, catching the ectoplasm alight as the Witch Boy’s face contorted.

 ∆•∆•∆•∆

 The trip back to the Javelin was shorter than the trip into the facility, without the need to be covert they were able to retrace their steps through the building at a much faster pace. Batman regrouped with them just before the exit, and out in the grounds Green Lantern and Wonder Woman had done a great job of distracting and subduing most of the agents. One of them must have gone in and rounded up the scientists too, because they were tied up in a neat little pile a ways off.

 Good, he could burn this place to the ground without worry then.

 Klarion didn’t stop his stride out the compound as his magic spread to lick the walls, fire sparking to life where it touched. He didn’t stop to watch as the fire spread up the walls unnaturally fast, as it spread into the building through the holes it was melting in the reinforced glass. He didn’t pause when an explosion hit the air, the fire most likely finding the medical wing or the weapons vault.

 Klarion only stopped once Danny was securely in the small medbay of the Javelin, held securely in place for takeoff.

~~~~~

   Danny came to slowly, letting the ectoplasm of the Ghost Zone fill his lungs as he breathed deeply… Wait. Ectoplasm? Ghost Zone?? Lungs???

 Screw waking up slowly, Danny bolted up from wherever he was sleeping… and immediately regretted it. A massive headache assaulted his senses, along with about a dozen other aches and pains from his capture, most notably his jaw and starving stomach. Still, assessing the situation came before anything else, so he tried to make himself vertical despite his body's protests. Until a hand on his chest stopped him.

 Klarion met his bleary eyed confusion with a stern stare. He pushed down once more and this time Danny didn’t protest the movement. “It wasn’t a dream?” Danny croaked out, only a little bit surprised at how dry his voice sounded.

 “No it wasn’t a dream,” Klarion replied softly as he pressed a straw to Danny's lips. He was grateful for the first full drink of water he’d gotten in… he doesn't remember how long.

 “And Martian Manhinter? Was he real too then?” Danny asked when his throat no longer felt like sandpaper. Klarion hummed an affirmative as he put the cup back on the nightstand, idly stroking Teelke with his offhand. He takes a second to process that before he nearly bolts up again, startling the familiar and mage alike.

 “Is the Justice League here‽‽”

 A pregnant pause followed the exclamation before the Witch Boy gave a snort, snickering to avoid outright laughing at the bedridden ghost. “No, I left the little humans to fly back to their clubhouse while I took you back to the Realms with a portal.”

 Deflating with the explanation, Danny’s eyes travelled the embroidered constellations on the canopy of his bed, finally relaxing enough to appreciate where he was. Home. He took another deep breath, feeling his ectoplasm replenish itself more than it had in the last month in the GIW facility. The ectoplasm combined with the pine and fire smell of the mage sitting beside him only enforced the fact that he wasn’t there anymore. Tears threatened to fall with that thought.

 His boyfriend came for him. He didn’t doubt he would, but the days passed along and he was starting to lose hope. But not only did Rion come for him, he brought the Justice League, a group he knows Rion has beef with. Traitorously, a tear managed to escape and roll down into his hair.

 “You know, I’ll have to go talk to the League now that you’ve told them about me,” Danny commented, desperate to get out of those thoughts and ignoring the way his voice wobbled.

 “I’m sure you will,” Rion replied, no doubt with a roll of his eyes. “But you need to heal first. You’re in no shape to go talk to a bunch of stupid humans right now.”

 Danny gave a snort, “Those ‘stupid humans’ helped you get me back, right? Maybe drop the stupid when we see them next.”

 Rion only grunted in reply, and so they lapsed into silence again. Danny felt sleep pulling at his mind again, now that he knew he was truly safe with his beloved mage beside him. He didn't fight it for long, but he needed to say one more thing before he truly allowed himself to start healing.

 “Rion,” he mumbled out, getting the attention of the mage with a hum. “Thanks for coming to get me, love you.”

 A rare kind of smile passed the pale teen’s lips then, soft and kind. “I love you too, Danny.”