#yes this was prompted by the joy that's been radiating off her and the power in the eras tour film

[wildfloweronwheels]

Was reminded while falling asleep last night of when Taylor compared finding the right record label to finding the right romantic partner and the breath of fresh air that was and the subsequent looseness and ease in her career over the last five years. Don't think I realised how 'tight' everything before that felt until it was gone.

By the way, that's not to say everything at Big Machine was terrible forever or that Taylor was a slave to the demands of Scott Borchetta but I guess I just didn't realise how stifling it must've been for her toalways feel like she was fighting in the end especially considering the freedom she felt like she had in the beginning (with the re-records we're learning things were different to how we perceived them back then) The speed and volume at which she's put out work since leaving them, which is obviously the byproduct of feeling like her life is hers again, stable mental health and SO many things is always going to be staggering but I don't think we give Republic's non-conditional and unwavering support enough credit. Like clearly they just trust her and her art and her vision. And that freedom has let her fly.

It's probably no accident that this creative streak which honestly seems less like a streak the more time passes, and honestly what she was always capable of if she'd had the support kicked off when. she was allowed to own the art she'd made. Like let's review for a sec; since signing with republic, Taylor has released lover, felt confident enough to start solo directing - this has branched out into a short film and now a feature (!!!), spontaneously recorded + released Christmas tree farm, done, beautiful ghosts + cats, released Miss Americana & only the young then folklore, the long pond studio studios, evermore, carolina and midnights. She's also reclaimed fearless, red, speak now and 1989, and created the biggest stadium show of all time, which has now been released to cinemas globally, all in the last FIVE years. This is what happens when you give someone with a creative brain and heart the space to stretch and make magic and play without constraints or caveats. Just food for thought

[illarian-rambling]

📙 and 🍋 for the Jumbo Ask Game?

📙 What kind of subjects (of conversation, of discussion, in school or whatever) does your OC find interesting or engaging or that they can talk for hours about? What kind of stuff do they just find fun?

God, I could talk about Twenari or Astra here, but I'll go with Twenari. Her darling in life, her purpose, is magic. She loves sorcery and knows just about everything there is to know about it, even at her young age. She's intensely curious about book magic - runes and potions and stuff - and wants to go to school for it, even though a sorcerer of her talent would usually never stoop to study the 'material magics.' The things she's most interested in, though, is the Araunian desert.

To start, the Araunian desert is weird and there's never an explanation for why it is the way it is. It's a blasted desert on top of the ruins of an ancient empire of the same name, and it's utterly saturated with rotting magic. Rotting magic is the runoff energy from spells that slowly decays into reality in the form of radiation. There's a massive pool of it across the Araunian desert, which means anyone who enters better be wearing protective runes or they're getting magic cancer.

The other weird thing about the desert is that the rotting magic, sometimes just called the corpse, might be sentient. Twenari has drawn on its decaying power twice in her life. Once, it tried to influence her into using it all up, which would've killed her. The second time, it tried the same thing, which prompted Sepo to come up with audio runes, an entirely novel form of magic. There's also the fact that only in Araun do automatons spontaneously become sentient.

Twenari is utterly fascinated by all of this and eventually dedicates her life to discovering the desert's secrets. She can talk for hours about Araunian ruins, runoff signatures, and robot sentience. Often, she seeks to study it even in her free time by reading all that's been written on it and parsing through any legends that have survived from the old empire.

🍋 Does your OC act petty and jealous easily? What sort of things make them feel like this and do they experience guilt for getting so worked up? How do they deal with these emotions when they get them? If your OC doesn’t feel like this often, why not?

Let's go with Sepo, since he's the king of petty. He's the type of guy to tailgate someone with his brights on after they cut him off in traffic. He's the type to spit in a customer's food if they were rude. He can hold a grudge into literal eternity - he practically collects the things. So yes, very petty.

Another very petty character of mine is Djek. He's more cheerful than Sepo, so his ability to hold a grudge tends to get looked over, but he's holding them just the same. When he loses his temper, he tends to lash out with insults. He usually feels guilty about this, with one exception.

Sepo and Djek have a sort of grumpy older brother/annoying younger brother dynamic. Djek takes genuine joy in irritating the siren, and though he'd never admit it, Sepo wouldn't know how to live if he didn't have someone to complain about. They're constantly trading jabs as payback for some comment or another, constantly playing small pranks, constantly taking innocuous remarks as insults.

But honestly? They both have fun. The insults are petty and the pranks are many, but they both know where the other's buttons are and avoid pressing them. Djek knows not to joke about Sepo's brother, and Sepo knows not to joke about Djek’s parents. So yeah, they're two very petty, irritating men who use each other as a sort of social isolation chamber so their mean streaks don't spill out on other people as much.

Thanks for the ask!

[violetnotez]

request:  It’s the the first time I send a request so I hope I’m doing it right 🥺 can I request a kirishima x reader one-shot with the reader being the traitor and during a fight with the LOV she betrays her classmates and her boyfriend and they found everything out. Possibly angst ofc and you can choose if end it with angst or not, as you prefer. Please I love your blog 🥰

hi anon! So I really loved this idea, and I kinda took it in a different direction, hope thats alright! <3

Kirishima x reader

Genre: Angst, PG

Word Count: 2.6k 

Warnings: none!

Prompt:  #3, “you cant tell me you dont feel the same way” from @bnhabookclub​ Provisional Licensing Exam event

Summary: You have been recruited by Shigaraki to spy on UA as a student. You mistakenly fall in love with Eijirou Kirishima during your time there, dating him for almost 6 months. But now Shigaraki needs you back, and in order to keep Kirishima safe, you have to break his heart

You let out a deep sigh, your chest feeling heavy and full of despair.

You didn't want to do this- you didn't want to hurt him, or let him go.

But to keep him safe- you had to do it.

Shigaraki had revealed the night before that his new plan was complete, and that your spying operation at UA was no longer needed. You had been recruited by Shigaraki at a young age to pose as a student attending UA High, your powerful quirk allowing you to get into the famous Class 1-A. For the last few months you had been pretending to be a hero-in-training, befriending every member in the class in order to win their trust. It was tiring work, trying to study on your own as well as memorize each student's strengths and weaknesses for Shigaraki to use. But by being so friendly with them, you began to realize you actually liked some of the students, making it difficult to hate them as much as you used to. They were so carefree and hopeful about the future, not realizing how cold the real world was like you did. You surprised yourself by loving every moment you were with 1-A, especially with your boyfriend, Eijirou Kirishima. It was hard to stay away from him- he was so bright and charismatic, his smile able to be seen from a mile away. His warmth was so intoxicating, lighting up your life in love and affection. He was the sweetest boy you had ever met, and quite handsome as well, sealing the deal for the massive crush you had grown to have on him. You felt guilty for dating him, knowing that a large portion of your life was hidden from him. It was a frigid lie that had once tried to hold you back from crushing on Kirishima, yet his brilliant warmth melted it away. He unknowingly helped you feel safe, to momentarily believe the world wasn't so bad after all.

Even though you had grown to love the redhead and his bright personality as you spied on Class 1-A, you knew the consequences that one day you would have to leave, yet you followed your heart anyway.

But now the dreaded day had come- Shigaraki needed you to disappear from this new life you had learned to love. He had received all the information he needed from your snooping around, and it was time for you to leave.

Guilt flooded your body, drowning your lungs and heart in regret and misery by the news: you should never have dated poor Kirishima in the first place. You knew it would break his heart once he knew your time together would end, but it had to be done: if Shigaraki ever knew a student from 1-A was romantically in love with you, he wouldn't hesitate to use Kirishima against you as bait to keep you wrapped around his clammy finger. You wouldn't allow Kirishima to get hurt over you, not on your watch.

The only way to ensure you could slip away without worrying about Kirishima was to make him forget about you. That was a close to impossible task, so that idea you scratched out from your mind. You only had two options left: tell him the truth or break his heart.

If you told him the truth, you would have to admit that you were a villain, and most likely would break his heart from the pain away. It would mean revealing your whole life and reason to be a "hero" was a complete and utter lie, most likely destroying the boy in the process. But you already knew Kirishima like the back your hand, and could guess his actions in an instant. He would most likely try to help you, attempt to fix your ways and tell you could leave: but you knew better. You were too involved with the LOV to ever leave and live an everyday life. They would hunt you down if you so much as even admitted to wanting to leave.

You decided the best course of action was to tell Kirishima you were over and down with your relationship- it killed you to even think of speaking such lies, but you didn't want to see him getting hurt. The boy would be heartbroken, yes, but after a while, he'd get over it. His friends were so supportive, so he was sure to have many people consoling him out of his blues. He would forget about you one day and find someone else, someone who wouldn't lie and hurt him. It hurt you to admit it, but this was the best plan you could think of to keep him completely safe.

You were going to miss Kiri and his strong embraces, though, as they were only things that made you feel safe and protected. He was so bright, cheerful, and kind, and it was hard not to resist those warm emotions when your world felt so cold and menacing. But the only way to keep the light inside Kirishima bright was to cut ties with him permanently- you had to break his heart.

Kirishima bounded into the common room cheerfully from his normal workout routine, a warm towel wrapped around his shoulders as he greeted some of his friends. His eyes fell on you, and his heart soared- you looked so pretty sitting there, the setting sun making strands of your hair sparkle like spun gold. His smile grew wider, his perfect teeth sparkling- how was he so lucky to land such an amazing girl like you? His strong arms wrapped around your body from behind the couch, his skin radiating heat as he rubbed his cheek against your hair. "Hey princess, how are you?" he mumbled your pet name into your ear, making your heart churn painfully- this would be the last time he'd hold you like this, the last time he'd speak so softly and sweetly to you. You sighed sadly, meekly wrapping a hand around his skin. 'Hey Kiri," you replied numbly, your voice depressed. You rose from the couch, your legs feeling heavy like lead as you wrapped your arms around your body- why did it feel so cold? Kirishima's smile faded slightly- you didn't sound at all happy. You usually greeted him so adorably, always giving him a big hug or a peck on his cheek. Now you seemed defeated, your hands wrapped around your body as if to protect yourself from something. "Hey, whats going on? You alright- is something bothering you?" he asked sweetly, clueless to why you were feeling this way as he closed the gap between you. He placed his calloused palm on the small of your back, reassuringly, his thumb rubbing against the fabric of your shirt. You swallowed hesitantly, your eyes unable to look into his- it felt too painful to look at him, his innocence to the whole situation making you feel so conflicted and guilty. "We need to talk," you forced yourself to say, his face instantly masked in worry. "Uh-uh sure!" he replied quickly, his speech a little flustered as he tried to seem unbothered, "do you want to talk in my room or yours?" "Let's go in mine," You quickly began walking to your room, Kirishima's footsteps following close behind. He was perplexed and worried- you seemed like something was really bothering you, your voice free of any brightness and joy like it usually was.

You felt like each step to your room made your heart fall heavier and heavier, opening up your room door slowly and letting him enter your room. He flipped on the lights, illuminating the space as you closed the door- even though you'd be long gone by the morning, you felt you at least owed Kirishima some privacy by having the door closed. It made the room feel so much smaller now that Kirishima's aura took over the room. Guilt and shame were eating up at you as you remembered all the hangout sessions and study dates you had in this room, hating how worried and compassionate he looked towards you. "What did you want to talk about? Is it something I did or do? I'm really sorry if I hurt you some way," he was already thinking it was his fault, making you cringe in internal pain- god why was he so sweet? It was you, it was your own personal issues, not him.   "No Kiri, no!" you frantically reassured him, your hands going out in front of you in protest. "Its not you, its- its just," "You can tell me anything, you know that right?" he affirmed sweetly, his eyes soft with concern. You nodded your head numbly, your mouth feeling dry like sandpaper. Kirishima walked close to your body, placing his palms around  your elbows, your arms full of tension as he tried to melt it away with his touch. He was looking down at you with so much worry, so much adoration and love, it made your stomach turn painfully. Why did this have to be so hard-it was so agonizing, like pulling off a bandage slowly and painfully. You just needed to get it done, to rip off the metaphorical bandage as quickly as possible- the longer you wait, the longer the stinging and the pain will be for the both of you. "Then tell me whats wrong," he instructed softly, still utterly oblivious to the whole situation. You swallowed thickly, your voice and throat feeling hoarse and tight. It was now or never. "Kiri, I- we need to break up."

Kirishima froze, his heart stopping in his chest. He didn't hear you correctly, right? Maybe he heard you wrong? There was no way you wanted to break up with him, no way at all- "I-Im sorry, I just-I just don't love you," You hated how these words were coming out of your mouth, these lies that were obviously ripping you and Kirishima apart from the inside. You watched his expression turn from worry to agony, his eyes wide with shock. It hurt too much to see him look so frozen, as if your words had caused him to shut down. His hands were still on your body, the air changing so suddenly- it was stuffy, stale, and uncomfortable. And it was your fault. You shimmied out of his embrace, turning around so you wouldn't be forced to face him. The guilt was eating at you- you couldn't bear to look at him look so defeated when you knew you had caused it. Your abrupt movement seemed to wake him up out of his heartbroken daze, his hands instantly grasping for you, spinning you around quickly. You breathed hitched painfully in your throat- you had never seen him look so defeated, so desperate. His palms were wrapped around your shoulders tightly, almost painfully, making it practically impossible to escape his hold on you. "y/n, please, please just tell me what's wrong," his voice was wavering, his eyes already gleaming with tears, "I-I know this isn't you, if I did something, y/n, I'll fix it, I promise! I can't lose you, please, please dont do this-" he was practically begging "Kiri, I-I, I cant," your voice was becoming weaker from the stress of trying to hold back a sob, "I-I never loved you." "Y/n, no, I cant accept that," tears were gliding against his cheeks, his voice full of passion, "you cant tell me you dont feel the same way." "I-I love you so, so much, you have no idea," he looked down at you with his wide, puppy-like eyes, begging you to change your mind with his words. "Your all I think about- when I wake up, when I fall asleep, everything I see reminds me of you. You make me so happy, the way you smile, your laugh, your hugs- I-I cant live without those things y/n. I cant live without you. When I asked you out that day, I was so nervous- I had been planning for weeks before, and when you agreed to go out, you made me the happiest man alive." Tears were falling down your cheeks now, your heart screaming in agony. You wanted to tell him that's how you felt as well- Kirishima was your whole entire life, enveloping your every waking moment in his wonderfully bright aura. He was your light, your sun, your anchor in the crazy mess of the galaxy of your life. There was no love and no warmth until Kirishima came around. But now you needed to keep him safe- you had to sacrifice your happiness with each other in order to keep him out of harm's way. "Kiri, I only dated you because I felt pity," you lied straight through your teeth, wishing you could melt into the wall seeing Kirishima's face break. "I was too afraid to say no," His heart couldn't take anymore clearly, his face conflicted with so many emotions you couldn't differentiate between any of them. You felt like this was the most ultimate betrayal to the boy, making him think his love he had with you was all a lie. It wasn't, and you wished you could just tell him the truth, but you knew that would be worse. He'd never allow you to leave- you had to, to protect yourself and him. You put yourself in a crappy situation- you wouldn't drag him along with you. "So-it-it was all fake?" He asked, his voice quiet and terrified. He didn't want to hear the answer he knew would spill out of your mouth. "Yes," The room was deadly quiet, Kirishima completely dumb founded-all the times you hugged him, made him feel accepted in your life, laughed at his jokes, kissed him, made him smile, made him happy-was all a lie? A cruel joke in order to spare his feelings? He felt like such an idiot-he should have known this was too good to be true. He felt deep down he wasn't good enough for you, strong enough, smart enough, manly enough. This was just confirming that fear by 10 fold. You were sniffling, watching the love you had for the boy only grow out of misery, while his love for you was diminishing. "Y-n, I-"he was so confused, his hands running through his hair in anguish. "Why?!? Why did you-you were my first everything! You are everything to me! I can't believe you, there's gotta be another reason-I love you, you love me!" You were so quiet, your shoulders shaking in misery and guilt as tear after salty tear fell against your cheek. Your silence was painful, confirming what he feared with each passing second, your averted eyes hiding the actual truth "You love me, right?" You were too afraid to speak, knowing what you had to say to break him from you-but you couldn't. The lie of saying you didn't love him was eating up your insides, clogging your lungs and your throat to the point you felt you couldn't speak. You couldn't tell him you didn't love him-it was too painful. You already lied to him enough. "I'm sorry," you whispered, looking at him with reddened eyes. What he thought you were sorry for was your lack of care for him, the lies you had told him for the past 6 months, and it burnt his insides in a gut wrenching flame, the fire licking and eating his insides in agony.  He had to leave-he couldn't take this anymore, his body walking right past you and opening the door quickly to get fresh air. You were now sobbing, broken gasps crying out his name as he shut the door behind you, closing his heart off from ever accepting you again. You were sorry that you were in love with him, and by being in love with him, you had broken him.

Taggings:

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@weebartistinc​ @yuueimagines​ @orokayagi​ @leeeah-loooser​

[unfortunatelysirius]

UNEXPECTED | Regulus Black, Marauders Era

「 ❁ 」PROMPT 「 ❁ 」

Request // Regulus finds something unexpected—at a Slug Club dinner party, with a girl named Y/N L/N.

「 ❁ 」AUTHOR’S NOTE 「 ❁ 」

Sorry if this sucked.

        LOVE.

                Even the word itself felt like a promise. It could come like a metaphor, as gentle as misted rain, or it was a broken idea, radiating animosity that maimed worse than misplaced surgical lesions. Some folks went their entire lives without knowing it, feeling it, getting the chance to embrace and relish it—while others did indeed get a taste only for it to scorch like too-hot coffee. A funny little thing, love was. As scary as it was delightful.

        Regulus Black didn’t know much about love. He only knew bleak sun—and a yearning that churned his stomach like butter. If he let his thoughts wander off too far, they’d explore territory too disturbingly foreign he’d have no choice but to retreat. His parents taught him discipline and obedience, but “love” was a rare occurrence; truthfully, the only person who ever even had an inkling of understanding for it was his brother Sirius, and the bastard left Regulus to bleed under the ripe moon. He knew what hatred felt like, same with spite, same with betrayal, same with repulsion.

        Then he descended on the path weary travelers couldn’t cross.

        It all started at the start of his fifth year, getting worse from there. He began noticing the Gryffindor who never stopped challenging professors and requested an extension on nearly every Charms essay. Who always wore an untidy uniform with the shirt untucked, cloak rumpled, and two different stockings. Who could be more quiet than a fairy’s whisper but the loudest personality in the room. Who once punched Giovanni Rivera, some snob in Hufflepuff, so hard in the nose he stayed slumped unconscious by a knight in the open dungeon corridor for an entire night.

        He noticed you.

        It was entirely accidental. Regulus was not someone to dive head-first, always treading the shallow end before walking into riptides that couldn’t be foreseen. He was caution in a world of chaos. He didn’t want to know the definition of “love,” even though he thought that was what he felt for Sirius. Brotherly love. The love someone had for another that protected them, provided for them in times of need. Then Sirius was labelled the family disgrace, shunned by Orion and Walburga; the perfect little Slytherin son, Regulus shunned him too. Regulus lost that feeling and failed to find it again, even in his circle of friends that mocked tainted blood and wanted more than meager lives. They aspired for a Wizarding World cleansed of impure magic; Regulus wasn’t sure what he wanted.

        He quickly became lonely. As the days turned to months then years, he preoccupied himself with his studies—working diligently to fabricate a living lie like he had any future outside of the Dark Lord’s bidding. He envied Sirius for breaking from the family so soon, forcing Regulus into a compromised position; their parents scrutinized him more carefully now and expected more than he would have had to provide if Sirius was the pride-and-joy firstborn they could have turned into a great ally, rather than an adversary.  Regulus hated it, hated that whatever he liked and the little joys he had in life were useless now that he had one reason to live. There was little to his life except growing up to be part of the Dark Lord’s army. Regardless of anything, he did know what he hoped for. The only thing that truly, truly belonged to him was his hope. It was different from his aspirations, as even those were polluted by conditioned hate.

        He watched you frequently. He watched you curse his own brother, Sirius, for calling you a suck-up. He admired your appearance, from your Y/H/L Y/H/C hair to your facial structure, the effortless way you stood and walked, the kindness in your expression when guiding none-the-wiser first years. You were the same year as him, fifth year, and an entire breed of your own. Regulus didn’t know when he began falling for you. Well, the idea of you. You encompassed freedom, and fuck if Regulus didn’t crave freedom. He wanted to see himself careless, able to act out and be himself inconsequentially. This was an impossibility he loved to consider, like a dreamer in a room of realists. His parents expected the most out of him and in his crystal ball, all that laid in wait was the Dark Mark etched in his skin. Death and destruction. His head dark and heavy. It wasn’t happiness that killers strived for—it was pleasure. Power, too. Regulus knew he was different from the others. He had to hide it and fight every inch of himself that wanted what Sirius had. Freedom.

        Regulus wanted to unleash every idea, every desire, every unspoken dislike. A brave heart scratched from under his skin, itching to have a say.

        Sirius was the courageous one, not him.

        He stuck to watching from afar.

-

        You hated Potions class. You hated parties. You hated Slughorn. Most of all, you hated Slug Club parties. Dammit, you hated your life.

        “Why did you drag me here, Lily?” you complained for the umpteenth time, fidgeting in your Gryffindor-red attire. You didn’t even like this shade of red. It was one of those colors you got tired of after seeing at every waking hour. All the assholes that prided themselves in the House the Sorting Hat bellowed, uniquely chosen for them… bleh! Dawning red and gold, parading around in Gryffindor scarfs bought for a bargain. You couldn’t be bothered. Lily had begged that the two of you go in a matching set, as one of your good friends. You never envisioned yourself agreeing. Fucking Lily, conniving you into wearing a dress like looked like it was sewn from a red Christmas stocking and attending a Slug Club party.

        Lily smiled innocently. “You owed me a favor!”

        A favor. You wracked your brain for any situation you’d been a part of where Lily offered her help. As your honorary big sister and a sixth-year prefect, she was the one calling for damage control whenever you did something warranting of punishment… and you didn’t want to fulfill your duties as a serious student. She chastised you at your worst but boosted you up too. Your best consisted of her praise and affection. You loved her, yes, but you didn’t love what owing her favors implied. It always wound you up in some unlikable predicament, such as this godforsaken party.

        “I don’t owe you shite,” you grumbled, pinning your eyes on a table of refreshments over by the door. You belatedly noticed a figure standing by it. The air went still and silent, your blood pulsating like a gushing river of red. Your eyes narrowed just the slightest bit. Regulus Black was sharply—no, impeccably dressed, standing with his glossy dark hair in a neat do and his gray eyes watching the floor indifferently. When he got too close to looking at you, you quickly turned away. Lily was already raising a brow. “What? I don’t.”

        “Yeah, okay,” Lily said amusedly. As she reopened her mouth to remind you of your every last unreturned favor and escaped week of detention, she spotted something over your head and a look of horror struck; you gauged this by the way her eyes bulged at the sockets. “Oh, Merlin—why the bloody Hell is he here? I’ll talk to you later, Y/N. Try to have some fun.”

        She retreated like a squirrel from a hound, her body launching at the occupied Slughorn over half a room away. As she was nearly there a bulk dressed in black dress robes followed, at a tame pace compared to Lily’s. You knew it was James only by the unruly mess of black hair you saw from his enrobed backside profile.

        You rolled your eyes and snuck another glance at Regulus. He wasn’t looking your way.

Try to have some fun, my arse.

-

You were here. Regulus didn’t know how, but you were. He hadn’t calculated what he’d do if you attended this party, not knowing you were a member. He assumed you weren’t, a rash assumption by all accounts, and that costed him. He didn’t want to be dogged by the thought of you all night, and now that your presence was mere feet from him, his mental duties seemed like lost causes. The burning urge to stare at you, consequences be damned, was incinerating—and control failed him left and right. Fucking hell.

Regulus filled a drink for himself. A punch of some kind. He drank it in one go, hoping the taste would eliminate you from his mind. If it were bad enough he could instead be hounded by his throbbing throat, gagging like no tomorrow. That would be better than this.

The punch didn’t work its magic. He looked again at you and calculated the inevitable penalty of making an approach.

        Cursing his luck or lack thereof, he felt less inclined to drown himself in the punch bowl upon the appearance of a bloke he had in Potions, Terrence something. He was a Ravenclaw know-it-all, but he was Pureblood. He could go overlooked conversing with the fellow. Regulus was a master of mimicry and had his haughty Slytherin performance down pat.

        The bloke asked too many questions and was evasive on topics Regulus had no interest in discoursing, but he was a well-welcomed distraction. Or ill-welcomed. Regardless of the reception, Regulus’s ambivalence towards you transitioned to an annoyance towards Terrence. Annoyance, that he could work with. He felt it most days. It was familiar territory. A stroke of olive on a canvas of emerald where you were lavender.

        It worked. It worked until Terrence bid a hasty farewell, trailing after some quiet, expressionless brunette from Slytherin.

        Regulus subtly scowled. Out of the corner of his eye he looked at you, surreptitious in a way he remembered from parties he went to hosted by well-known Pureblood families. You were in mid-conversation with some Gryffindor he knew from a mutual class the three of you shared. It was a bloke whose mouth seemed too keen on keeping a conversation going and hand was swaying too closely to your waist. Regulus’s eyes hardened without his meaning to, and before he knew it, his feet were in complete control; he walked to the two of you with renewed purpose.

-

        You were ready to unleash your inner ugly. Random people kept coming up and trying to talk to you, each of them more mentally-taxing than the last. First there was Cornelius, an absolute walking disaster, then there was Dave, who went on tangents without checking to see if you were listening. Then Kala, then Paisley, then Travis. Finally, there was Justin. Justin was a compulsive flirt. You politely tried to get him to fuck off, but he just wasn’t catching the hint or acknowledging your blatant apathy in what he had to say. He wouldn’t understand discomfort on the part of his conversational partner if it slapped him in the face.

        It was like a blessing and a nightmare when Regulus Black, wearing a cold expression and marginally more perfect up close than he was from a distance, appeared.

        “Can I borrow you for a moment, L/N?” he asked, something off about his voice. Your eyes narrowed. If you had to garner a guess, you’d say he was straining to maintain a calm disposition, truly angry. The cold in his expression was cracking, giving way to heat. Had he noticed your wandering eye and wanted to clarify with you that he had no interest except to exterminate your muddy self from the Wizarding World? You were unsure; it was a common ideology among extremists, the hatred of non-Purebloods, but Regulus didn’t give off that ambiance. He didn’t feel like a future monster.

        “Sure,” you said, sneaking a glance at Justin. Justin’s face wasn’t aggravated at the interruption, just confused that Regulus Black had been the one to interrupt. Regulus kept to himself usually… and he hated anyone who wasn’t pure of blood, supposedly. “Sorry to cut this chat short, Justin. I’m sure there’s plenty of other birds to talk into a stupor around here…”

        Justin’s eyes lit up, disregarding the annoyance in your voice. “You’re right! Thanks, Y/N.”

        You raised your eyebrows at him but bit back a less subtle remark, following Regulus when his hand prompted you at the shoulder.

        “So, what was that back there?” you boldly asked, trying to avoid smirking. It was almost adorable, the way he swooped in and rescued you from a dolt. He couldn’t have approached you just to chastise your invasive stare or threaten you with death. You were taking a chance in assuming he came to save you the burden of dealing with Justin Doley’s bland chatter, but you didn’t care. You really didn’t. It was a sweet gesture if that were his true intention, but a niggling suspicion refused to believe it was. “Thank you, by the way. I was ready to lock my knees just so I could escape.”

        Regulus’s face blanched, a tinge of hot pink flooding his cheeks. His brows made a cute little furrow that gave the impression of a natural unibrow. “Why would you lock your knees?”

        “When you lock your knees, the blood stops circulating and can lead to fainting,” you said. Now you smirked. “Trying to avoid an answer? I’m hurt.”

        He frowned at you. “I’m not trying to avoid anything. It was nothing. You looked uncomfortable…”

        “I was more annoyed than anything,” you said, a correction you weren’t obligated to make. Seeing Regulus squirm was a pleasure on its own. He would already squirm, caught willingly communicating with a Gryffindor, but you had a tendency to go over and beyond in putting others on the spot. It made you a childish shade of giddy both inside and out, not that he would be able to tell. “You don’t have to keep talking to me, you know.”

        “Oh,” Regulus said but didn’t move. He stayed rooted where he was, watching you with a piercing gaze. Now that you were close enough to reach a finger across the distance and graze those gaunt, knife-sharp cheekbones, you ogled him. You knew he was gorgeous from the brief times you interacted and the long, solitary moments you took to dissect him outside lessons, but being so close and with no time limit, you took a chance. Your chance was a rescue mission disguised as a private discussion.

        A smile tore at your lips. “You clean up nice,” you said, your ogling session finished. You could stare at Regulus much longer than you deemed appropriate and actually did, but he was a moment and moments had the ability to pass you swiftly by. In this case, he’d leave without you getting to properly know him. Opportunistic as you were, you wouldn’t let him leave without taking what you could.

        Why would you even want to know him? you asked yourself. He’s probably a Muggleborn-hater. The heart wanted what the heart wanted, try as you might to logicize.

        Regulus frowned. “Thanks,” he said. He hesitantly snaked his eyes up and down your figure, stopping on your neckline. A beautiful necklace with your favorite gemstone adorned it, a gift from a Muggle relative. He cleared his throat aggressively. “You do too.”

        He’s a shy bugger, isn’t he?

        You inched closer, moving on a whim and putting your hand on his arm. Your fingers tightened around the material of his sleeve. He drew closer, like it was instinctive, and your eyelids fluttered as you basked in his perfumed, intimate proximity. You’d regret advancing on a Slytherin, especially one as admired and esteemed yet dark and dangerous as Regulus, but he just had this air about him. Like going from an altitude that took your breath away to one that had enough air to burst you at the seams. Like a butterfly with clipped wings, a scorpion without its stinger. He was tempting, but beautifully broken.

        I know. I just know.

        “When you came over, I thought you were going to confront me on how I haven’t kept my eyes off you all night,” you murmured. You met his gaze evenly, ignoring your pounding heart and fluctuating nerves.

        Regulus froze immediately. “What?”

        “Oh, did you not notice? Silly me,” you said, flaPping a hand like it never mattered in the first place. Truth was, your thoughts were frozen and fixated on his ignorance—ignorance you had just given a reality check. There had been no point, absolutely no hidden objective, in admitting your inability to overlook Regulus. Yet you had—and now he was staring at you like you had turned the color orange and horns magically sprouted from your head.

        Then, like a switch went off that had full control over Regulus’s emotions and the way he expressed them, he smirked. It wasn’t a full smirk, just apparent enough you noticed it. All the tension contorting his face flattened, leaving him like he was relaxed, the opposite of how he looked mere seconds ago. Always the skeptic, you stared at him with narrowed eyes, scrutinizing him from head to toe. He didn’t lose the smirk, his arms crossing over his sleek robes in a devil-may-care fashion.

        “Presumptuous of you to think I ever notice you in the first place,” he said, in that pompous voice you were used to hearing from Sirius’s favorite Slytherin, Severus Snape.

        You laughed at his audacity and, hearing the music change tone and tempo, reached out a hand. You forgot your wit and lost all possible responses to give his arrogant retort. “Dance with me, Black,” you said softly, “before your brother comes to ruin my night, like the prick he is.”

        Regulus raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t deny you. He interlaced his fingers into yours and his free arm, moving at whim and ease, came quickly to your side, enveloping your waist in a delicate embrace. A formal embrace that bespoke of the distance between you, the invisible rift. The dance he swept you in was unfamiliar, but it was simple enough that you could match his pace without tumbling over your own feet.

        You felt everyone staring, but nothing mattered more to you than the feeling of his hand on your waist and the deep, unreadable waters of his foggy gray eyes. He was an enigma that swept coast to coast, tainting the sand with his attendance but leaving wild imaginations to run rampant wondering why he was there, what he did, who he was. Everyone knew of him, but no one knew him. You couldn’t deny you also didn’t know him. Really, you knew nothing about him except that he was a Slytherin in your year, the younger brother to Gryffindor’s infamous playboy, and a supposed Pureblood extremist. You were curious, though, and wanted to know all the dismissive facts that made up his mind and crafted a mental narrative even you found ambiguous. He had consciousness, and there was no way in Merlin’s sodding Hell he was a host to someone else’s thoughts, opinions, and interests the way so many other future killers seemed. Every now and then he showed you something unusual—a mannerism individual to him, words you recoiled back at hearing from his mouth. After he smirked at you and accepted your demand to dance, you lost yourself in the shock of his dismal composure cracking at the folds.

        You never really believed in love.

-

        Regulus never really believed in love.

-

        But if you wandered too far into the bittersweet fantasy of happy endings…

-

        Regulus could get lost.

-

        The song changed again; slow and calm it became. Pressing your cheek to Regulus’s chest, you let the soft fabric of his dress robes sway you into an admittedly false sense of security. The hawk eyes following your every move disappeared with every cyclic step Regulus took. You were hypersensitive to his heartbeat now. It pounded against your cheek like a drumstick, a vibrato of epic proportions. You felt delirious with delight, yet a piece of you was stuck to the path your half-conscious feet made through the slow dance. It’s like you left a trail, and you’d have to pick up the pieces once Regulus became sick of your pathetic antics.

        “Are you asleep?” he asked amusedly, his chest vibrating against you. It rattled you enough to awaken some semblance of nerves.

        “No,” you said, shaking yourself out of the daze. You pulled back from him, bridging enough space to look him in his eyes. He had beautiful eyes a silly girl like you could get lost in. Any girl really. They were pools of fog made of spring mornings and forest hues. You just wanted to kiss his eyelids. What a strange desire, but you felt it all the same…

        Regulus blinked and you were drawn back in the moment. He had said something.

        You hummed in question, your eyebrows raising.

        He shook his head, his face flattening until it was expressionless. “I have to go,” he said. You knew what lies looked like. He was a good liar, but you were a better observer. “I have a matter to discuss with Slughorn.”

        You laughed. “That’s too bad,” you said, voice coming out like a purr. Your hand rose until it settled on his chest; your fingers curled around his robe, until fabric was fisted and cupped into a swirl. “We could have had some fun.”

        “No,” Regulus said firmly. Almost too firmly. His hand jerked up to meet yours and his larger fingers interlaced yours, tugging in an attempt to prompt your release. Your refused to let go. “Y/N.”

        “I like it when you talk all authoritative,” you said teasingly.

        His face blanched and it was enough of a shock to make him lose all incentive to fight the good fight. You took this chance and drew him in, his feet stumbling in a clumsy attempt to regain balance. “Y/N, I—”

        “What are you so afraid of?”

-

        Regulus was afraid of a lot of things. He was afraid of what his parents would do if they figured out he didn’t despise tainted blood the way he was raised to. He was afraid of his peers shunning and scorning him for being caught dead with a Half-blood. He was afraid of losing himself in the moment just to sate his deadened hope and watching you get killed in the crossfire of his foolish, self-indulgent mistakes. He was afraid of many things.

        He would never dare utter those fears aloud.

-

        You watched the conflict flit across his face, erasing itself seconds after.

        “What?” you innocently asked, noting that he had gone stiff. You were unaware to how deep his issues ran. You knew from Sirius’s running mouth that Pureblood households were devoid of tender moments and affectionate caresses. You wanted to imagine an alternative for them, but Sirius was a hellish hailstorm when honest; his feelings were subjective, but his experience was likely to ring alarmingly true. Regulus was quiet and allowed things to fester, so no one would ever know how he felt.

        He looked at you now, a lock where his mouth was. No key in sight. His eyes were piercing and unquestionably inscrutable.

-

        He had to leave before he lost control of his mouth. He couldn’t afford to involve you in his mess. He was a hurricane and you were summer rains. He would destroy you.

-

        “I have somewhere to be,” Regulus said, no room left for an argument. His arms disappeared from around your waist and he tore his eyes away, like it was physically painful to do so.

        You grabbed his wrist before he could melt into the dancing crowd. “Regulus, wait,” you said. You hated the way you sounded. You didn’t know him, but you felt strongly anyway, like he mattered more to you than was plausible for a girl and boy from two separate worlds. You couldn’t explain why you cared; you just did. He hid himself under the pretense of a rich, spoiled Pureblood who stood above the rest. He was hypnotically beautiful and bathed in greens and silvers. He was brilliant in ways Gryffindor House could only aspire to be.

        Regulus didn’t respond to your plea. He stared at you, waiting briefly to hear what you had to say.

        You didn’t have anything to say. You had something to express—and words weren’t always the best at expression.

        You reached up to his face and palmed his cheeks, finding little skin and mostly bone. His cheekbones jerked underneath your grip. His eyes went slightly wide, like he disbelieved you had taken physical initiative with him. Your fingers didn’t dig or tear at his skin, nor did you impulsively decide that you had him in your grip and now was the time to hurt him. You didn’t want to hurt him. You wanted to show him that he didn’t have to be risk-aversive; he could fall clumsily into risk with you and the two of you would make it work. As long as he felt this bizarre, unnatural connection same as you did.

        You’d find out.

        You pressed yourself flush against him and drew your lips until you were a breath away. Then you kissed him.

        The room and its occupants disintegrated, leaving only Regulus and you. Regulus dissolved into putty. His arms went around you again, one of them circling your waist entirely and a hand gripping your hip tight like letting you go would mean you never came back. His lips were soft if slightly chapped, moving against yours like they belonged there; there was no hesitation, no anxious energy. Regulus had lost himself in the moment, same as you. He wasn’t a Pureblood and you weren’t some Half-blood Gryffindor who had spent half the night pinning after a Slytherin who would keel over dead before wanting you. Regulus was different, and you hadn’t failed to sense it.

-

        Regulus abruptly remembered his place and pulled from you. Your eyes were still fluttered shut, and it took several seconds before you noticed he was no longer wrestling with your lips.

        You stared. Regulus wiped all emotion from his face, refusing to let you know he wanted a second kiss. You were not a good deceiver and every emotion you felt showed on your face, from confusion to lust to apprehension.

        “That should not have happened,” Regulus murmured, glancing around. There were people staring; even some of your Gryffindor friends, like Lily Evans and Marlene Mckinnon, were aghast, eyeing the two of you like you had just committed a murder.

        “Why?” you said confrontationally. “Did you regret it?”

        Regulus glanced at you but didn’t say a word.

        You could feel your heart plummet to your gut. “Yeah, okay,” you said, shaking your head. You knew he was being dishonest, but that didn’t stop you from feeling hurt at his blatant favoring of his reputation over a chance at this… this relationship. You jerked out of his slackened grip.

      You fought tears as you walked away.

-

        Regulus watched you go.

        He knew what it felt like when towers crumbled and empires fell, as it happened frequently. His life fell apart more than it came together. He missed you the moment you left but he knew this was for the better. That kiss had meant more than Regulus would ever admit. He felt the connection and he knew there was a future that would happen if he allowed it, if he chose not to intervene. He was the inhibitor of a lot of good things, but he would rather see himself drown than another person swallow their breath underwater.

        So he stared at your retreating back, wishing things were different.

[planetsam]

@casualcloudlighttrash Not sure if you are taking prompt buts if you are Post S2 prompt: I just want to see Alex quietly singing/humming The Song to Michael. Maybe Michael's hurt and in pain or they've both had a really emotional event happen and are totally drained from crying. I want that song to be a source of comfort. My partner isn't an amazing singer but I still find it really comforting when he sings to me and I like to think Michael and Alex eventually get to that point too.

It doesn’t work like the movies.

A lot of things aren’t like the movies, and Alex says that as someone who spends his days surrounded by aliens and working for a top secret government outfit. He’s wished things were like the movies before. Computers were as easy, the military was as interesting state side, that love and families worked the same way.

That CPR worked that way.

“Come on, Guerin, stay with me,” he mutters.

That’s the bitch about CPR. It’s life preserving. But that’s it, it preserves. No matter how many of Michael’s ribs he breaks, no matter how long he spends putting his body weight into pumping his heart, unless someone with an AED or Max shows up soon, Alex knows he’s going to lose him.

The priority is chest compressions but Alex can’t take any risks with Michael’s mind. Not after he just started college classes. There’s nothing romantic about breathing for Michael and Michael isn’t going to respond but Alex desperately hopes as he pushes air into Michael’s lungs before returning to pumping his chest. This is the most physical contact they’ve had in months and he tells himself he’s imagining Michael’s body temperature is cooler.

“Michael!”

Max’s scream makes all the hairs on the back of Alex’s arms stand up. He looks over at the doppelgänger and prays that this is the right Max. Michael was sure. Alex has no choice but to trust him. He breathed for Michael again as Max drops to his knees before he shoves himself backwards. Only a law of physics could get him to pull back as Max claps his hands against Michael’s chest. Electricity jumps and Michael’s body goes tense. He doesn’t jump but as Alex stares his chest moves on it’s own.

“Hang on,” Max says, “you’re okay,” and he focuses on healing him.

Michael coughs with healed lungs and ribs and then inhales deeply, his eyes opening. Horror fills his features as his brain catches up and he shoves himself upright, looking between Max and the doppelgänger, the doppelgänger and Alex. Alex doesn’t know what happened but the blank horror in Michael’s eyes makes his worry increase instead of retreating. Michael grabs for Max and winds up half in his lap, his hands fisted in Max’s shirt as Max holds him tightly.

“You’re okay,” Max repeats. Michael blindly shakes his head, “yes, you’re okay,” he says.

“I killed him,” Michael chokes out, “he said he knew i had it in me!”

Alex forces himself to look at the body. It’s identical to Max, right down to what he’s wearing. His chest is caved in and his neck is bent. Alex hopes that Michael crushed his chest and he suffered. He listens to Michael sob and hopes the doppelgänger was scared. Before he stopped Michael’s heart. Alex doesn’t want to touch him but more than that he doesn’t want Michael to wind up at the police station.

“Get him out of here,” he says to Max, “I’ll take care of this.”

“What? No—“

“Yes,” Isobel appears suddenly, taking in all the info before turning to Alex, “we’ll take care of this,” she looks at Michael, “you take care of him.”

He and Isobel work quickly to dispose of the body. Thankfully between the two of them and her alien powers, it goes fast. Alex isn’t sure if this is a thank you situation. When he opens his mouth, Isobel closes her eyes and then furrows her brow. Alex knows enough about freaky twin powers to know what’s going on. The worry doesn’t ease. She looks over at him.

“We need to go,” she says.

“We?” He asks, his heart jumping, “what’s wrong with Michael?”

“He’s unresponsive.”

Alex barely remembers the drive to Max’s house. When he gets there with Isobel, Max barely acknowledges them and brings them back to his room. Michael is sitting on the bed staring blankly ahead. His curls are limp and dripping onto the towel around his shoulders. Another is around his hips. Max’s handprints dot his chest but there’s one in the middle of it that is darker and angrier. It looks like a burn. The skin around it is raw like Michael’s tried to scrub it off.

“I got him clean but he just stopped,” Max says, dragging his eyes from Michael to Isobel, “can you—“

“I think we should let Alex try,” isobel says. Max looks surprised and even in her worry, Isobel manages to look exasperated. She softens when she looks at Alex, “come on, let’s get some acetone in you,” she says, steering Max down the hall, “Michael will be fine, he’s with Alex.”

Alex wishes he had as much trust in those words as she seems to.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him, walking over to Michael. The only acknowledge Michael makes of his presence is to close his eyes and try to make himself smaller. Alex crouches down in front of him. He can feel the pain radiating off Michael but he doesn’t know if it’s one particular thing or everything that has just happened.

“Can I touch you?” He asks. Michael lets out a shaky breath but nods, “we don’t have to talk,” Alex tells him and that gets Michael to relax, just fractionally. O

He starts with Michaels hair, using the towel to press as much water as he can out of it. He doesn’t know where Michael’s clothes are. He doesn’t want to see any of them again, though it’s Michael so he has a feeling they’ll make another appearance. It’s easy enough to find a pair of sweats and a hoodie and help Michael be steady as he gets them on.

“He looked at me like Max looks at me,” Michael blurts out suddenly, “he said he expected me to do it, like Max used to say when I wound up in prison,” he chews his bottom lip, “I feel different,” he stares at Alex, “why does it feel different?”

“You were dead,” Alex says, the words tasting like ash.

“Yeah but I’m not,” Michael bites his lip, “Max said killing changed him. Killing—“

“Hey, look at me,” Alex says, “did you love Max less? Or me less?” Michael shakes his head, “everything makes us different, that’s part of being alive.”

“I didn’t enjoy it,” Michael says, “he said I would but I didn’t.”

Alex nods. He’s killed people and the only joy has been in that they didn’t kill him or his unit first. But he doesn’t want to unpack the fine details and risk Michael going quiet again. Michael looks at the bed nervously and Alex knows that however much he needs sleep, the idea of closing his eyes must be unfathomable. Alex sits on the side of the bed and Michael stands there.

“I can’t—“

“Just sit,” Alex says, “please.”

Michael warily approaches him and then sits, leaving a good foot of space between them. Alex can follow the logic that it’s better for Michael to be around family. That hopefully the smell of Max will make any nightmares he has about killing him go away. If he could Alex knows Michael will sit there all night, stubborn until the end.

“You need to sleep,” Alex says.

“Yeah,” Michael replies. He hesitates, “can you—“

“I can stay,” Alex tells him.

There’s a shift and he isn’t sure who moves first or how he winds up with Michaels head in his lap. He exhales at the warmth of Michael’s head on his thigh. He doesn’t seem to be alone in his need for physical contact, even though he knows Michael doesn’t remember him giving cpr. Michael exhales shakily against his jeans. To his completely surprise he sees him relax more. Like maybe Michael’s also missed them touching these past few months.

He starts to sing.

Alex hasn’t sung the song he wrote in a long time. There have been other songs but this one has stayed tucked away, waiting for the right time. Michael trembles against him and Alex isn’t sure if it’s tears or shower water that dampens his jeans, but he keeps singing. Until Michael’s breathing turns even and he drifts off. It’s a miracle that he feels safe enough to do it. Alex wasn’t sure that they would ever be able to find that safe place again.

The door cracks open and Isobel tip toes in, looking purely relieved at the sight of Michael asleep. She focuses on him for a moment longer.

“I just made sure he’d stay asleep,” she says to Alex, “come on, you need some food.”

“I don’t want to leave him,” Alex admits.

“I know, you can come right back.”

Alex doesn’t know why he follows her and manages to get down food. It should feel like he’s an interloper but instead he feels like he belongs. Like Michael is always where he’s belonged. He looks over his shoulder to see blankets and pillows stacked on the couch.

“I figured you two could take the bed,” Max says.

“I—“ Alex stops and nods, “thank you.”

Max nods back at him. Michael is the one who died and the one who killed him, but Alex knows he’s never going to forget the feeling of keeping Michael alive. He’s grateful that they both seem to get it. It’s not something Alex is sure he could explain. When he gets back to the room he takes off his jacket and his shoes and gets into bed with Michael. Isobel said he wouldn’t wake up so Alex knows he’s not disturbing him by putting his arms around him.

“Alex?” Michael mumbles.

“Sorry, I—“

Michael grabs his hands before he can pull them back and keeps them close.

“S’fine,” he says.

Alex breathes until his heart rate is back down. Thankfully that doesn’t seem to wake Michael up. Neither does Alex finding a comfortable spot so he’s not smothered by the riot of Michael’s curls. It’s awkward to make the pieces fit together, edges have changed and things don’t go exactly where he remembered them as being. But he  figures it out. They fit differently but they still fit. The pieces still want to be together. Alex has never met a fight he didn’t want to be a part of. And he’s sure in the morning there will be more to talk about.

But for tonight, he let pieces be together.

[diorsho]

absolute power

prompt: “come on, it isn’t that hard!”

words: 914

paring: bakugou x reader

warnings: talks of fighting and some kissing but nothin’ bad !

an: this is an entry for xin’s 1k raffle ! i couldn’t be more proud of her ! 1k is a big deal and they reached that number 🥺 i rewrote this piece from something i drabbled a year ish ago and its loosely from the gone series hehe but anyways,, you’re amazing xin and i’m so happy that i can call us friends and that the bookclub brought us together !! i hope you’re well <3 be happy and healthy, u deserve the world !!

~~ 

"Power corrupts," Y/n said softly.

"Yeah," Bakugou said sarcastically. "I've heard that. Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts. I forgot who said it." Silence hung in the air, it wasn't constricting though. "I made a lot of mistakes Y/n. I don't want to keep making mistakes either. And I don't want to be him. I don't want to be Midoriya. I want to..." Bakugou spread his arms wide, a gesture of helplessness. The two were overlooking the surrounding area from a tree and the rest of their friends scattered throughout. "I just want to live. I want to get away from everything." Bakugou wanted all the fighting to stop so he could finally be a teenager. 

"You won't be corrupted, Katsuki. You wouldn't do those things. You’re better than him." He moved slightly to turn to face her. Y/n moved to close the distance between them. Their bodies close enough where he could feel the warmth radiating from her.

"How can you be so sure?" Bakugou questioned. Self doubt could be seen peeking through his eyes."Well, two reasons. First, it's just not you. Sure you can be a dick sometimes, but that's just you. Plus of course you felt a rush from the power. Who wouldn't? but, you pushed it away. You didn't grab at it, you pushed it away. You’re so much different than the three of them. You’re better than all of them in every way imaginable. You're you. Not Midoriya, Iida, or Uraraka. And that's only reason number one." Bakugou wanted to agree, wanted to accept what she said, but he felt he knew better. He couldn’t believe the words coming from his lovers mouth.

"Don't be so sure." Bakugou scratched the back of his head. Y/n sighed and reached for his hands with hers to hold.

"Do you want to know reason number two?" Bakugou locked eyes with her and nodded. 

"You have me." Y/n smiled.

"Do I?"

"Yes."

Bakugou felt the anger and frustration drain from him like someone pulled a plug. For a long moment he was lost gazing in her eyes. She was so close to him it was almost hard to breathe. His heart shifted to a deeper rhythm that had vibrated his whole body. There were mere inches between them. Bakugou closed the distance by half, then stopped. He sighed, "I can't kiss you with your little brother watching," Bakugou smirked and he felt her groan against his lips. 

“Come on, it isn’t that hard! Just kiss me.” Bakugou shook his head and Y/n finally stepped back, took Katsuma by the shoulders and turned him around so he faced the opposite way. Y/n turned to face him again and smiled. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him to her. "How about now?"

Bakugou smiled again and wrapped his hands around her waist, closing the little distance that was between them. Her figure settled perfectly with his. His body shifted so her body laid against the tree while he held her. "Perfect." He watched her close her eyes, the eyes that he had fallen in love with so long ago. Everything seemed to be moving painfully slow. Bakugou wanted to remember this moment forever. He looked at all of her facial features. Her eyes that sparkled from the sunlight above them to the freckles that had dusted the bridge of her nose and cheekbones. They weren't even prominent, just faint enough to see. Yet somehow they seemed to form constellations. The small scars that covered her face that showed what she’s been through made him want to kiss her all over.  Her lips were a pretty pink color and from what he knew it was her favorite chapstick, peaches.

 He finally came back to reality and moved his lips closer. He felt her lips against his. It was like heaven, they were so soft and pink. He moved his hands up to her face and held her, afraid that something could tear them from one another. He never wanted to lose her. Bakugou would do anything for her. She pressed her lips against his with a bit of strength and he pushed right back. His hands caressed the sides of her face and it was almost like she shivered under her touch despite the heat from the sun. Y/n pushed his shoulders slightly and he let go. He rested his forehead against hers and she breathed heavily. 

"Thought you weren't going to let me go for a second." She laughed while he smiled, her laughter did something to him. His stomach was doing backflips and his skin felt like it was on fire. The sound brought happiness and joy whenever it was heard.

Bakugou moved from her forehead and pushed his face in the crook of her neck. He pulled her close, Y/n’s arms laid on his shoulders while his were on her waist. He felt a small kiss on the side of his head. Bakugou felt his heartbeat quicken and he smiled. He moved to see Katsuma sitting with Kirishima while Kaminari was off by himself looking at the river. His other friends were busy doing other things as they prepared to leave the next morning. He hugged his girlfriend’s body close to him and let her scent overtake him. These were his people. the people he could count on and who wouldn't let him down. Bakugou loved his people, even if he did find some of them barely tolerable.

~~~

taglist: | @sugacookiies | @bnhabookclub

masterlist | kofi

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 55: Friends Helping Friends

Presenting the next chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Due to scheduling things, this is being simultaneously posted here and AO3!

This chapter and earlier ones can be found here

“So who should we do for our project?”

Kenta looked up from his math textbook and the notes spread out on his desk.  He, Takuma, and Kimiko were all studying in his room. ��It was the least cluttered and busy of their three rooms, without Kimiko’s plushies and martial arts equipment or the eye-searing and garish decorations that filled Takuma’s.  Other than Shoji’s, it was probably the most boring room in the dormitory. At least he had stuff in his, mostly a few posters and some family photos. Pretty basic, but it was his.

“I asked what we should do for our project,” Takuma said.  He was sitting on the floor, a book on his lap and a notepad next to him.

“What project?” Kenta asked.

“Our Hero History project?” Takuma prompted.  “From Skyline’s class today?  A presentation on a Pro Hero who made a significant contribution to society, either through good actions or bad behavior?”

“Oh, right,” he replied. “That.”

His pink-skinned friend held his gaze for a minute.  “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

Kenta let out a sigh. “Yeah, sorry, nothing.”

Kimiko, sitting on his bed, gave him a look.  He couldn’t see her eyes or expression, of course, but he could practically feel the concern radiating off her. There was a slight denting on the collar of her shirt, which told him she was tilting her head.  One sleeve came up.  Was she maybe pointing?   “You okay, Kenta?” she asked.  “You’ve been kind of spacey ever since you got back last night.”

He frowned.  “You guys have your sessions with Hound Dog yet?”  

“During English today,” Kimiko said.  She tensed. “You did notice I was gone, didn’t you?”

Kenta swallowed hard. “I didn’t.  Sorry, Kimmie.”   He felt bad about that.  Kimiko tried so hard to make sure she was noticed, and he hadn’t even realized she was gone.   Sure, he’d kind of been sleepwalking through the day, but he didn’t feel like that was any kind of excuse.

“Kenta!” she yelled, arms flailing, “how could you just miss me like that!  I oughta….”

She trailed off.   Kenta guessed he must have looked distressed enough to prevent a full on rant and swat.   There was some small blessing in that.  Kimiko wasn’t that tall, but she was fit and packed a lot of power behind her smacks.   He was surprised Takuma didn’t have brain damage from all the times she’d gone upside his head.

Though she never did seem to smack him as hard she did him.

She arms dropped to her lap. “It was fine.  I really didn’t see much of anything.  Just one of those things when me and Doctor Izumi got closer to the hospital.  I made us invisible and Mister Aoyama zapped the hell out of it.  Thing sure was ugly though.  But I got cleared right away.”

“Me too,” Takuma said. “During Science.  Tsukuyomi did pretty much all the lifting and just tore the one we were fighting apart.  Scary, kinda gross.  But I wasn’t in any danger.”

Keta wondered if wasn’t noticing how his voice was shaking with that. But his best friend’s lighter nature returned almost immediately.  “Please tell me you noticed,” Takuma continued.  “Because I sit right next to you.”

Kenta squirmed uncomfortably.  

“Bro.” Takuma gave him an incredulous look.

“Seriously, Kenta, what’s going on?” Kimiko asked.  “This isn’t like you.  You’re usually the one keeping us focused.”

Well, how was he supposed to answer that?  That he’d used his Quirk on what he’d thought had been a living thing?  That he couldn’t get the taste of its freakish (false?) flesh out of his mouth?  That he’d been scared he was going to die?   That if he had a better or more impressive Quirk, he wouldn’t have nearly died?

How about the fact that he’d been planning on asking Kimiko out before everything turned to shit? He’d gone from riding a victory high after helping to beat that gunk villain to being scared out of his mind just days later.

Suneater and Nejire-Chan said he’d saved their lives.

So why didn’t he feel like a Hero?

“It’s nothing,” he said, trying to change the subject.  “So, you said we’ve got a report?”

Unfortunately, his attempts at diversion did not work and just got both of them staring at him intently.   “”It’s not nothing,” Takuma said, crossing his arms.  The frown looked badly out of place on his pink face.  “You’ve been out of it all day.”

Kenta looked away.  “I really don’t…”

“Bro,” Takuma said again.  “I’m your best friend.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, Kimmie, but it’s true.  You’re a real close second, though.  But Kenta, we’re your friends.  We’ve been through some shit together.  That time we tried to hide a kitten in your room.  The cookie fiasco.  Mrs. Tendo’s math class.”

Left unspoken was the death of his mother, but Kenta knew it was there all the same.  Takuma, Kimiko, Akaya, they’d all been there, as much as five year olds could, when his mom had been killed.  And the friendships there had stayed ever since.  

“Talk to us,” Takuma said, softly.

Kimiko moved over to his side of the room.  “Aw, Kenta,” she began. Some inner warning system told him to flinch, which was wise, because the next thing he knew, she was hitting him, smacking him across the arms and shoulders with her hands.  “If you don’t tell us what’s wrong, I’m going to beat the stuffing out of you!  We’re your friends! If there’s something wrong with you, we wanna know about it!  Why don’t you talk to us?!”

“Kimmie!  You’re gonna leave bruises!”  Takuma grabbed her arm before she could hit him again, and pulled her slightly away.  

Kenta rubbed his arm where she’d been smacking him.  “No, she’s right.  You’re… both right.  I shouldn’t…”

He looked down.  The floor was more comfortable than having to look two of the people who mattered most to him in the eyes.  “I nearly died, guys.”  He heard gasps from both of them.  Kimiko didn’t even protest that she was “not a guy.”  

Kenta sucked in a breath. “That Nomu knocked out Suneater and then Nejire-Chan. She hit her head.  I was pretty sure she was dead, until I saw her breathing.  But it kept coming. I thought for sure it was going to kill her, then me.  Or some combination of that.  So I… I took a bite out of it.”

He shook his head.  “I was pretty sure it was alive.  Or as alive as something like that could be. Not a robot.  But I still did it.  Because I thought it was the only way to get out of there alive. And then I tried to hightail it out of there with Nejire-Chan.  But it kept following us, even with half its calve missing.  If Deku hadn’t shown up… she’d be dead, I’d be dead, and then it probably would have gone back and finished off Suneater.”

He was aware, suddenly, that he was sobbing. Kenta held his head in his hands.  “We’d all be dead and Dad…   Dad’d be all alone…  Maybe if I was stronger or had a better Quirk or…”

Arms wrapped around him, Takuma’s wiry ones and Kimiko’s fit ones.  A group hug.  “Oh, Kenta,” Kimiko said.  “We had no idea.”

“Dude,” Takuma added, “you can’t just keep this stuff to yourself.  We’re your friends.  We’re the ones you’re supposed to tell this stuff to.

“And besides,” he went on, causing Kenta to look up, “do you know how much time we’ve invested in your social media presence?  All of that’d be wasted if you got killed.”  He had on his “good idea grin,” the one he always did when he was trying to convince someone to go along with his ideas and trying to push the charm. It rarely ever worked.

This time, though, Kenta found himself laughing.  Slowly at first, but then faster, louder, until he was laughing as hard as he’d been sobbing, and the tears of pain he’d cried turned to tears of joy.  When Kimiko and Takuma released him, he wiped his eyes.  “Oh, man,” he said, feeling lighter for the first time since Saturday morning, “I needed that.  Thanks, both of you.”

“Anytime, Bro,” Takuma said.

“What’re friends for?” Kimiko asked.   “But if you ever pull anything like that again…”   She raised an arm, menacingly.

“’Make Kimiko go whacko, you get the smacko,’” Kenta repeated from memory.

“Damn right you will,” she said firmly.  

“The three of us,” Takuma said, “we’re together to the end.  No matter what.”

He could still hear the Nomu’s roar.  Still smell its fetid breath.  Still taste its putrid flesh in his mouth.  Still feel the fear threatening to drive his heart from his chest.

But now, it all felt just a little more distant.  And maybe, just maybe, he was a little more determined to tell Kimiko how he felt. After nearly dying, there were way worse things than maybe being a little embarrassed.

Worst she’d probably do was smack him.

***

“Thanks, both of you, for coming,” Kana Tetsutetsu said, walking up the stairs to the fourth floor of the Class 1-B dormitory.  She let out a weary sigh. “I’ve tried talking to him, but he practically hid from everyone at lunch and he holed up in his room immediately after class.”

“Anything for ‘Ro,” Mika said.  “He’s been ignoring me too, for what it’s worth.  I was about to send him some steamy pics when you called.  See if that worked.”  

She had a really great bikini for it too.  Combined with her rocking bod, it was guaranteed to get some kind of response out of anyone female-attracted. She should still probably send some of those to Shinji.  He was on a social media lockdown as part of his punishment for flying to the rescue across Japan (And how romantic was that?), but texts should still count…

“Maybe you should try sending Haimawari some, Kana,” she said.  “Guys like those things.  Keeps the fire in the relationship.”

“We’ve texted and watched some movies together,” Kana said, sounding annoyed.  “He’s a nice guy—and he is cute—but we’re definitely not at that stage yet.  And Mika…”

“Yes?”

“Stop hitting on him or I’ll break your legs.”

Mika like out a frightened eep.  “Yes, ma’am,” she said.

“Should you not tell your Homeroom Teacher?” Akaya asked, trying to drag the subject back to the actual reason they were there.  It wasn’t Mika’s fault so many things lead to sexual or relationshipal thoughts!  “The welfare of students is his job.  Or perhaps your mother?  She is a close family friend.”

Kana shook her head, setting her orange-red ponytail swaying.  “Getting Fujii-sensei or Mom involved is just asking for trouble. Plus it might end up on the record, even with Mom.  The line between family friend and teacher gets a little weird.  Plus Mom’d tell his parents and Shiro already feels like he’s here hanging on by a thread.  Who knows what would happen if he thought it was getting worse.”

Mika was definitely glad her mom wasn’t a UA teacher.  She needed freedom to pursue her various interests, like boys.  And girls.  And other individuals to which she was attracted.  Having that much scrutiny around all the time during your teenage years couldn’t be good for you.

“Understandable,” Akaya said.  “But if Shiro is so deeply troubled, I would prefer he get the help he needs, regardless of what it may mean for his career.  Still… perhaps we can convince him to seek the help himself.”

“Thanks,” Kana said, opening the stairwell door.  “Fukidashi says he’s “undergoing character development,” but that’s pretty par for the course for her nonsense.”  Even Mika would admit that Anime sometimes didn’t make a lot of sense.

“Think it has something to do with his Internship?” Mika asked.  

Shiro had interned with Red Riot.  Considering Shiro was hung up on Kirishima-Bakugo, that had to have been awkward.  Wasn’t he supposed to have done some kind of dramatic confession before they started those?  If it had gone well, he’d probably have bragged about it to everyone who would listen, so she could only assume she’d turned him down, but still…

“I asked Shoji what happened,” Akaya said.  “But he said it was not his place to discuss it.”

“Of course he did,” Mike said, rolling her eyes.  “He makes minding his own business a Sports Festival level event.”  Understandable, but not helpful in this particular situation.

Two of the four doors were open, one on either side nearest the stairwell.  In one of them, a very attractive guy who looked like a humanoid bat was strumming on what looked like a heavily modified guitar with his long fingers.  His fur was white, save for a mane of wild blond hair.  She could just imagine him folding his wing-arms around her and…

A tug on her arm brought her back to reality.  “Help friends now, carnal pursuits later,” Akaya cautioned her.    

“I’ll introduce you to Koumori later, if this pans out, okay?” Kana said, giving her the same look other people did when they were fighting the urge to roll their eyes.

If he was interested in music though, maybe she could pass up a hot guy this one time, introduce him to Chihio?  Her best friend was nearly flat as a board, so she needed a different hook to get a guy… Chi did have good legs and a great ass (She noticed these things, even if she’d never hit on her best friend), so throw in a mutual interest…

From the doorway of the other open room, a large young man—He had to be nearly three meters tall!—poked his head out.  “Everything okay, Tetsutetsu?” he asked.  

“I don’t know yet, Fukui,” Kana told him.  “Have you seen Shiro today?  Outside of class, I mean.”

The big guy shook his head. “I think I saw him go down and get some food, but that’s it.  He was doing that sneaky ninja creep thing he does.”

Kana just sighed and pinched her nose again.  “Of course, he did.  Thank you, Fukui.”

“Yes, thank you,” Akaya added.  She gave him a little wave.  “Hello, Fukui.”

The big guy smiled and returned the wave.  “Hi, Koda. Still planning on joining us in the garden this weekend?”

“If time and weather permit.”

Mika looked between the two. She knew they were friends, but were they friends or “friends”?  None of her usual radar was going off, so probably just the former.  And also not relevant to the task at hand!  If she didn’t get any action on this trip, nobody did!

***

Shiro’s room was at the end of the hall, on the left.  Kana knocked on it.  “Shiro! Open up!”  

Silence greeted her.   She knocked again.  “Shiro, this is me as your friend, not as your classmate or Class Rep.  Open up. Please.”

A muffled sound came from within.  It sounded a bit like “Go away.”

Kana threw her hands up in the air.  “Argh. He’s power sulking, I just know it. He was doing this before the Internships too.”

Yeah, that definitely suggested whatever had happened with Kirishima-Bakugo hadn’t gone well.  Poor Shiro.  There was a sweet guy under all that ego.  He’d definitely treated her like a princess when they’d been dating.

Kana turned to Akaya. “Okay, your turn.  We’ll try reasonableness.”  

“Shiro,” Akaya said, with that soft voice of hers, like wind through reeds, “Shiro, please.  We are worried about you.  Whatever happened, allow us to share your burdens.”

This too, was met by silence.

Akaya placed a hand on the door.  “Shiro. Please.  I am asking you not to hide from us.”

Silence again greeted them, until the soft sound of footsteps on carpet followed.  The door opened slightly and Mika peered around Akaya’s bulk to a get a look at him.   She would be the first to admit that she was frequently surprised, whether it was by unexpected hotness or Kirishia-Bakugo showing up out of nowhere to yell at her.  But what she saw with Shiro took her breath away.

He looked like he hadn’t slept in a couple of days, with deep, dark bags hanging under his eyes.  He was slouching.  He hadn’t changed out of his uniform, other than to shuck the jacket, so it was it was wrinkled.  He’d allowed his hair to become unkempt.

That was when she realized just how serious this was.

“Holy crap,” Mika said, softly.

“I’m fine, Akaya,” he said, not looking her in the eyes.  “Just tired.”

“Kana was worried about you,” Akaya said.  “And I see now that she was right to be so.  You are very much not yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” Shiro insisted.  It looked very much like he’d been crying.  And like he hadn’t even been doing his skin care regime!  “If you’ll excuse me, Akaya, it’s nice of you to check on me.  But I’m in the middle of something.”

Mika could just see into Shiro’s room.  The vaguely French décor, the expansive hair care set up, it looked just like the last time she had been in his room (It had been entirely platonic, despite how she kept dropping things and had to keep bending over to pick them up.), except for the suitcases on the floor.  It was entirely possible, given his depressive state, that he had never unpacked. It would have been unlike his usual collected self, but possible under current circumstances.  Except for the fact that most of his dresser drawers appeared to be open.  And empty.

“What,” she said, “the actual fuck?!”

She quickly became aware that she must have been rather loud, because Akaya, Kana, and Shiro were all staring at her.   Even the other boys on the floor had come out of their rooms to see.  Fortunately for her, she didn’t care.

She pushed past Akaya and shoved Shiro into his room, roughly.  “I’ve got this.”

The door slammed shut behind her.

***

Mika gave Shiro another shove further into the room, and then one more, to knock him onto the bed. She pointed at him and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.  Trembling with rage, she forced herself to be able to speak.

“What.  The Hell. Is wrong with you?” she demanded, going back to pointing.   “Are you giving up?  Quitting?  Since when the hell do you do that?!”

She realized he was staring at her, eyes wide, a frighten expression on his face, shaking like a leaf.   “Hey, no, no,” Mika said quickly, joining him on the bed.  She put her arms around him.  Under most circumstances, she’d have pulled his head to her bosom, but it didn’t seem like it would work here.  “I’m not mad. Okay, yes, I am mad at you. Because you got me all worried. But why are you leaving?”

“Because I don’t belong here.”

“The hell you don’t.”

Shiro gestured to his desk, where some of his things were still out.  A deck of playing cards, a set of lock picks, even a twirling baton. A small pair of hand weights sat on the floor, and DVDs of Heroes in action in hand-lettered cases occupied a significant section of the bookshelf.

“Did you know there’s a running bet among some of the other courses as to whether or not I even have a Quick?  Do you know how hard I have to work, just to keep up with people with real powers?  Just because I can move like Eraserhead or copy Gunhead’s moves doesn’t mean I’ve got any of their strength unless I work at it.  All the time.  So I’ve worked for years to be able to keep up.”

He closed his eyes. “And when I was out in the field… when that monster attacked… my Quirk and body betrayed me.  It might have been a robot, but cloaked in dead skin, all I could see was how profoundly wrong it was.  Not like Ojiro or Fukidashi, they’re just blind spots.  But just pure, unadulterated, unnaturalness.  And I knew, in that moment, no matter what I did… there was nothing I could have done that would have even slowed it down for a moment.”

His eyes snapped open, tears trailing down his cheeks.  “I froze! Shoji had to carry me out of there, like a child!  I could have run, I could have done anything, but instead, I was exactly what they always used to say I was… a useless kid with a useless, fake Quirk, deluding himself about being a Hero!”

Mika blinked slowly, processing everything Shiro had just unloaded on her.  She knew he had plenty of crisises of confidence.  She remembered comforting him after he’d lost at the Sports Festival.  She remembered the many times where he’d wondered if he was good enough.

But she had never seen him as broken as he was right now.  Self-doubt was one thing, he had wanted to be talked out of those bouts.  She wasn’t sure he did right now.

“So I might as well pack my things.  Maybe they can give my spot to a Gen Ed kid like Kocho.  Somebody who’ll do something with it.  It’s not too late to take up a career as a street performer.”

Mika frowned.  Kana would have had some words of encouragement. Akaya would have had something deep and thoughtful to add to the conversation.  Even Kirishima-Bakugo would have known what to say here, though her answer probably would have been “Suck up and get over it.”  Unfortunately, Mika was none of those people, so she was going to have to improvise.

“Okay,” she said, “first, I’m going to need the names of whoever’s organizing these bets.  Because I need to adjust the hoof to ass ratio around here something fierce.”

He gave her an incredulous look.  “That’s your takeaway from this?”

“Look, I don’t have a lot of tools here, Shiro.  So ass kicking on your behalf seems like a good start.”

“You’re impossible, you know that?” he said.  “But even if you beat them all up, it doesn’t change anything.”

She gave him a small poke in the chest with her finger.  “Listen to me, Shiro.  You’re going to stay here, and you’re going to be a big damn Hero.  And do you know why?”

He gave a little laugh. “Because you’ll adjust my ass to hoof ratio?”

“No,” she said. “Well, yes, if this moping thing keeps up.  But that’s not why.  It’s because you’re a spiteful little bastard who never let anybody tell him what he can and can’t do.  And if you think you can’t cut it… then do it to spite yourself.”

This got another laugh, one that was quickly replaced by a frown. “You realize that made no sense? And it still doesn’t change anything.”

“Got you to forget your problems for a minute, didn’t I?” Mika asked.   “You change your mind yet?”

“No.”

Her eyes widened.  “What?”

Shiro shook his head. “As… refreshing as this chat’s been, I’m still the guy who froze up when he should have acted.”  

She was rapidly running out of ideas here.  “How’s your class going to get by without you?”

“Kana is the Representative. She’ll do a fine job, even without me. She might not have quite the same competitive spirit I do, but she’s got enough of one to ensure they won’t fall behind.”

“The term’s not over and you won’t be able to transfer anywhere, even to a non-Hero school, without a complete transcript.”

He opened and closed his mouth.  “…Dammit.”

“Stay at least that long?” she asked.  “Please?”

“For the sake of my academics, yes.”

“Great!  That gives me a few weeks to work with!”

He just shook his head. “You’re really not giving up on me, are you?”

“Of course not,” she told him, leaning over to give him a little peck on the cheek.  

She really didn’t know how to solve this.  This was every problem Shiro had had turned up to eleven.  Being rejected on top of having his perceived weaknesses brought to the forefront…  There really wasn’t a good way to get past that.  At least, not that she could see right now.  Maybe Akaya or Kana or Anime could think of something.

But she could be there. And she’d bought herself a little time.

***

“Hey, ah, can we come in?”

The voice at the door snapped Katsumi’s attention out of her math homework.  Or rather, her attempts at her homework.  She wasn’t exactly having an easy time focusing on the numbers and formulae.  The more she tried to concentrate, the more it all ran away from her and sent her spiraling down dark paths.  

At least Izzy and Toshi were giving her space.  They’d both assured her they were here for her if she needed them, but knew to let her process it all in her own way.  Though Izzy was extremely insistent that she unburden herself somehow, to someone. Still unable to say no to Izzy, she’d said she would.  Which meant she’d have to deal with this sooner or later.  Because while she was many things, she wasn’t a liar.  

“Kirishima-Bakugo?” a second voice, this one male,  joined the first.  “You going to give us an answer?”

“Katsumi.”

That last one definitely got her attention.  She turned and saw Sero and Kaminari standing in her doorway.  She gave them a glare and both squawked.  Sero actually took an awkward step backwards, losing his balance and falling on his ass.  Kaminari let out an equally terrified squeak, her Extension Cords standing upright and sending off sparks.  “Kaminari, we definitely aren’t close enough to be to be using my first name,”

“We used to be,” Kaminari said as she helped Sero back to his feet.

“Yeah,” Sero said. “Bakusquad Generation Two!  What happened to that?”

Her glare must be getting weak.  They were still there and still talking.  “Because you two got dumb as fuck.”  

They weren’t wrong. They’d been friends, once, when they were children and when they were pre-teens.  But then Sero got obsessed with internet fame and Kaminari had started listening to Mineta more and more, where Katsumi remained one hundred percent focused on her goal of being a Hero.  So they’d drifted apart.  Kaminari, she saw more often still, since she was also friends with Izzy, but it was never quite the same.

They weren’t friends, but they were still…  Something. She wasn’t sure what the word was. Classmates, at least.  Family friends, sure.  And she’d put them ahead of Horse-Girl or the Glowstick on the list of people she tolerated, so there was that.

“Right,” Sero said, unfazed by her barb.  “And you got terrifying beyond all reason.  You know, the usual.”

“So can we come in or not?” Kaminari asked.

“Is there any answer I can give that would make you go away?”

They exchanged a look. “Nope,” Sero said.

“Nope,” Kaminari added.

“Nope!” both said at once.

“No,” Katsumi said, because some things had to be tried, no matter how futile they were.  She wasn’t surprised when they ignored her and came in anyway.

“Dig the posters,” Kaminari said, looking at the posters for the heavy metal bands on her walls.  “Scream Girls?  Great sound. You’ve got good taste.”

“I’ve heard about them,” Sero said.  “Loud, angry-sounding lesbians in leather costumes.  I can total see why you dig them, Kirishima-Bakugo.”

Katsumi gave him a look that would peel paint.  He panicked appropriately, flailing his hands in an apologetic gesture.  “N..not that there’s anything wrong with that!  Kind of loud for me, though.  I gotta go with the Nyan-Band myself.  Their stuff’s catchy!”

This time, both Katsumi and Kaminari gave him a look.  “You’re an idiot,” Kaminari said.

“Dumbass,” Katsumi said.

There was a brief pause as Katsumi exchanged a look with Kaminari.  It said “in this moment, I respect that you are not Sero.”

“So seriously, what are you two doing here?” she demanded.  “Other than lowering the average IQ in the room?”

“Look, it’s like you said, we’re not really friends anymore,” Sero said.  “Not close, anyway.  But all our families are still friends.  We were worried about you and your dad.”

“Yeah,” Kaminari said. She frowned, which Katsumi admitted looked out of place on her features.  She was a dumbass, but Kaminari was usually cheerful.  “Um, I just… remember when Dad was hurt.  Back in the day.  And how messed up it all was even back then.  So now…”

Back when Papa had been hurt.  And Uncle Tetsutetsu had been hurt.  And Sato had lost his mother.  Lots of people had been hurt on that one.  Kaminari’s dad had been stabbed.  A lot.  When they hadn’t been sure if they were going to lose Papa…

At least in the here and now, they had a guarantee that Dad was going to be all right.  Him living wasn’t a question.  But how well he’d take to, well, pretty much anything, was still up in the air.  She’d talked to both her parents today.  Lots of physical therapy for Dad, so he could at least be fitted for a normal prosthetic eventually, even if he couldn’t use his Quirk with it.  Papa was also trying to get him to talk to a real therapist… it wasn’t going well.

Of course, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to her own sessions with Hound Dog either.  Because she was pretty sure she wasn’t getting away with just one.  The school therapist probably had a thing about people suppressing their uncomfortable emotions and channeling them for violence.  Some stupid rule about not using “unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

“He’s… he’s healing,” Katsumi said, hoping they didn’t notice the hesitancy in her voice.  The last thing she needed was for either of them to stop being afraid of her.  “Still a way’s away from being discharged though.”

“Eeesh,” Sero said. “Rough.  Mom said Dad’s going home tomorrow.  Gotta take it easy for a while though.”

“Dad went home to day,” Kaminari said.  “He actually got off pretty easy.”

Katsumi clenched a fist and gritted her teeth.  She wasn’t going to snap at them.  She wasn’t going to yell.  She wasn’t going to protest the unfairness of it all.  It was all part of the risks of being a Hero.  But damn, she wanted to.

“Still,” Sero said, “good to hear about your dad.  When we heard what had happened to him…”

“Got pretty scared,” Kaminari said.  “Somebody like him can get hurt like that…  Somebody we know and who took care of us as kids…”

Yeah.  A big name Hero like Dad getting hurt, that was shocking. Brought them down to normal suddenly, deleted the myth of invincibility.   But she’d learned that lesson early.

Didn’t make it hurt any less right now.  Or make her worry go away.

“So…,” Kaminari went on, as an awkwardness hung in the air.  She gestured vaguely with her Cords, hands stuffed into the pockets of her pants. “We just wanted to say we’re here if you need us.”

“Just wanna talk, or whatever,” Sero said.  He held up a finger.  “Or even if you just want to yell at us.  That always seems to make you happy.”

A free pass at that?   A grin slowly spread over Katsumi’s face.  “I just might have to take you up on that,” she said.  “…But not when you’re expecting it.”

“So what you’re saying is we’ve got a free shot at annoying you now?” Sero asked.  “Because I could totally film that.  Simmering kettle, I’ll call it…”

Katsumi just rolled her eyes.  “Under no circumstances.”

“Yeah, okay,” Kaminari said, tugging on Sero’s arm to get him moving toward the door.  “Let’s get out of here before you get us both killed. But we meant it, Kirishima-Bakugo. You need us, talk to us.”

Maybe she would. Maybe she would.

[whoreforfanfiction]

They Get Jealous (MM! Preference)

Yoosung

You've been spending your extra time with Zen recently while Yoosung has been busy with his studies. You guys usually went for a run in the lush green park by Zen's house every morning and then went out for some tea (or coffee if you prefer that). Yoosung was walking by going to a local convience store and he saw you two running and laughing together. He felt this hard pang in his heart and his adrenaline started pumping. He stormed up to you two. 

        "Hey M/C doesn't it just look like you're having a fun day," he said sarcastically. Zen giggled instantly knowing what was going on. He decided to tease the blonde further by draping his muscular arm around your shoulders, causing you to blush.

        "Yes! Is there anything wrong with that?" You giggled with Zen also seeing the jealously plainly displayed on Yoosung's face. You walked forward, feet kicking up some slight dust, and swooped your head up to land a big kiss on Yoosung's now red cheeks. 

        "You're adorable when you're jealous," you teased as you walked off. 

        "W-Wait!" Yoosung stuttered and stumbled after you, trying to reassure you he wasn't jealous. Zen chuckled and raced after you two. 

Zen

You spent almost all your time with Zen. But, when he was on stage acting, you had to entertain yourself. You met this handsome young man working behind the scenes with Zen. On his breaks, he'd bring take out food and talk to you while your boyfriend was on stage rehearsing. You and the guy only met a few times, but you could tell it made Zen furious. He remained his composure at first, reminding himself that you are independent and loyal and he has no need to be worried. But, when he saw that low life man put his hand around your shoulder, boy did he burst. 

        He ran off the set and slammed the guy into the brick wall that laid behind him. The guy was trembling and Zen's usually beautiful red eyes held such hatred in them. 

        "Don't you EVER touch her!" he shouted shaking the entire area. You knew Zen was scary when he was mad, but you could never imagine being able to literally feel the anger radiating off of him. The guy instantly got the hint and never talked to you again. However, the outburst almost got Zen fired. You took him to his dressing room to soothe him

        "You know I'm yours and only yours sweetie," you cooed while running your fingers through his silky hair. He relaxed into your touch. 

        "Yes, babe, I know. I just don't want anyone being able to feel your perfection other than me. He doesn't deserve you. All men are beasts, remember that." He turned and pecked your cheek. 

        "Thank you for always looking out for me and protecting me." He hugged you upon hearing this. 

        "Anytime, beautiful." You guys shared some loving cuddle time in his dressing room before he had to leave and apologize to the crew for his outburst. 

Jaehee

Jaehee's coffee shop was BOOMING. It was crazy packed almost all day and she could use all the help she could get. Most days, you tried your best to be there most of the day even staying after hours to help Jaehee. Since you spent most of your time there, you became close to one individual. There was a blonde girl who was also a barista. She seemed to have taken a particular interest in you and made sure to chat with you on her breaks. You guys would sit down and discuss whatever for an hour every day before your break was finished. However, Jaehee seemed to notice this and you stopped seeing the blonde girl. Upon investigation, you realized your shifts were at complete opposite times. 

          "Jaehee, did you do that on purpose?" You decided to question her one day. She paused what she was doing on her laptop and looked up at you.

        "I noticed you two were getting close and I don't need her to be distracted at work especially during such a busy hour." She sipped on her black coffee before setting it back down on the table. You sat down on her lap and looked into her deep brown eyes.

        "You're jealous, aren't you?" You began to giggle. Her face blushed and she turned her head to look away from you.

        "O-Of course not, that is so childish." Her gaze remained on the floor a small smile appeared upon her lips. You gently placed your hand on her chin and tilted it upwards so that she was looking at you. You landed a loving kiss on her lips which lasted a few moments. After you two had finished, her face was the reddest you have ever seen it.

        "It's fine. It's cute."

        "I know you are loyal, however, it gave me an ill feeling seeing her get close with you. I am sorry I do not have much free time during the day, but I will try my best to take my breaks at the same time as yours so that we can indulge in conversation instead of her." You pecked her cheek and nuzzled into her torso.

        "That sounds amazing." 

Jumin

It was seven's birthday and you convinced Jumin to allow him access into the penthouse you two shared. You knew how much the red-head loved the cat and knew it would bring him joy to see it on his birthday. However, Jumin did not expect how well you and the hacker would get along. You two sat on the expensive couch taking turns kissing Elizabeth the 3rd's belly. Seeing you laugh and giggle with someone other than him sparked a flame in Jumin's heart. Trying to deal with the situation "rationally" he called the guards to take Luciel away. He whined on his way out and called Jumin a meanine. You were furious. 

        "Did you really have to do that on his birthday? Give the man a break he works 24/7 and all he wanted to do was see that damn cat for a day. Is that so hard? I was right there, he wasn't going to kill her!" You fumed at him. He kept the calm look on his face, but there was a storm raging beneath. 

        "I did not enjoy how he was treating both you and my precious Elizabeth the 3rd." 

        "What was he doing wrong?" You prompted him, giving him the angry girlfriend stare. 

        "Only the most elite are allowed to kiss her precious belly. And, it disheartened me to see you and him sharing laughs together." He spoke of his emotions, but did not show them on his face. 

        "Is that really what this was about?"

        "What do you mean?" His look held some confusion. 

        "You got jealous, didn't you?"         "Is that what that feeling was? Jealousy? Hm, I do not like that one. I should look into how to get rid of it." You giggled and walked up to the cooperate heir and draped your arms around his neck. 

        "You're cute, Jumin. You know that right." You spoke between light kisses on his neck. He put both his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him. 

        "I will do everything in my power to make sure you remain mine and mine only." His voice held authority and you found it extremely sexy. 

        "I already am yours, my love. There is no need to worry." The rest of the night was spent making out and cuddling, reassuring Jumin that all your love belonged to him. He promised himself to hold you tight and never let you go, because life without you would be a hell indeed. 

Seven

Vanderwood. That damn dude came in one day when you were over at Saeyoung's. Seven was working and you spent the time on the couch talking to Vanderwood about anything and everything while waiting for your boyfriend to finish his work for the agency. Seven watched the security camera religiously seeing you two get along so well. After his work was through, he didn't rush out and hug you as he usually did. Instead, he sulked back into his room.

        "What was that all about?" Vanderwood questioned. You shrugged. "If he finished his work, I should probably get going. I'll see you next time, M/C" You waved back. After he left, you went into Luciel's room to see him curled up in a ball crying. Tears running down his face and clutching his knees, causing his knuckles to turn white. You sprinted over and leaped onto the bed into the spot next to him. You fought your way under his muscular arms so that now he was holding you instead of his knees. 

        "Saeyoung, are you okay? What's wrong?"

        "I'm never good enough. I can never do anything right." 

        "That's so wrong. Why are you saying those things? You are the best man I have ever met." 

        "I saw how you acted with Vanderwood. You like him more than me. You guys laughed and talked for hours." 

        "Seven, it's not what you think it is." He interrupted you.

        "You like him. Go be with him. He is better than me." He continued to sulk.

        "Seven, he was telling me stories about you! No need to be jealous, all we did was talk about you. He told me agency stories about how you made everyone laugh and how you bravely completed missions." His teary eyes lifted and made eye-contact with yours. They now held some happiness in them. 

        "Yes, I love you. We both do. Don't be jealous, Saeyoung, no one can make me laugh or fall in love the same way that you do. You're my special defender of justice." He gripped you even tighter while burying his head into the crook of your neck. 

        "Let me know if there is anything I can improve on." He mumbled. 

        "Well, there is one thing." His eyes looked up, now full of concern

        "Oh god, what is it?"

        "You're taking an awfully long time to take me to the space station." You giggled while pressing your nose up against his. He returned your smile and picked you up, spinning you around.

        "Come on, my 606 let's go get married at the space station tomorrow!" You laughed and played along with his bit. The rest of the day was spent eating HBC and lots and lots and lots of cuddling.

[kagetsukai]

Drops of Satina: Day 16 - Blessings

Raphael and Lily Trevelyan belong to @out-of-the-embers. Thank you so much for helping me with this prompt!!! The name of the nobleman was concocted by @shannaraisles, who is forever the best ever?

Words: 2,767 || Read on AO3

Summons to the Inquisitor’s quarters came as a surprise and put Hannah in a state of mild panic. She had never truly spoken with the Inquisitor - most of her communication being handled by either Commander Cullen or, occasionally, Lady Montilyet - so the fact that she was going to have a direct conversation made her worry. In her past job experience, any time The Big Boss wanted to chat with her, it meant immediate termination and a need to look for a new job. With a heavy dread in her heart, Hannah put away her work, locked everything up and slowly made her way towards the Inquisitor’s tower.

Whatever she had expected to find at the top of the seemingly endless staircase was not what she found; the room was as large and splendid as Hannah remembered, but instead of obvious opulence it was tastefully decorated with practical furniture and multiple bookshelves. A large desk sat on the opposite side of the room and the Inquisitor stood up and moved around it the moment Hannah stepped past the balustrade

“Hannah!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

Hannah dipped into a courtesy and frowned a little.

“You have formally summoned me, Inquisitor,” she pointed out. “I could not refuse.”

Lily frowned and hummed. “That… is a good point,” she said. “Either way, I’m happy to finally get to talk to you. And please, call me Lily. I don’t want to be so formal when we’re about to have tea.”

Hannah stared at the woman, confused.

“Tea?” she asked.

“Yes, tea,” Lily replied with a shaky grin and pointed to a fancy couch that Hannah hadn’t noticed before - there was a table before it, ladened with food and drink. “I was gifted some black currant tea and I thought that maybe you’d like to share it with me?”

A multitude of questions crowded in Hannah’s head, one more insistent than the other. While she no longer thought she wasn’t going to get fired from her position, she still had no idea what was going on. Just to be on the safe side, she decided to play along.

“I must admit, I’ve never had black currant in my tea,” Hannah said carefully. “But I’m always interested in new food experiences.”

“Excellent,” Lily said and directed Hannah to sit down. “Shall we get to it then?”

Once they sat down, Lily went about pouring out some tea into their two cups and offered sugar and milk to go with it. Then she offered the little sandwiches and scones and cookies that sat neatly arranged on fancy porcelain plates. Hannah was surprised, because those were the kinds of things that were left for servants to do and not the most powerful woman in Thedas. Still, she held her tongue. For her part, Lily looked extremely tense. Hannah noted the stiff posture, the fingers idly picking at the nails, and the slight frown between the brows that reminded her of Raphael. Something was going on, that was for sure.

“I guess I should tell you why I asked you here today,” Lily intoned. Hannah nodded, but said nothing. “For some time now I’ve been hearing rumors of how certain members of the Inquisitions treat you and I have to say that I never condoned it and I am sorry you had to put up with it.”

Hannah narrowed her eyes.

“I had sent Master Wardell to the Exalted Plains as a test,” Lily continued. “He was supposed to go on site and repair a bridge in the area. Not only he failed to give me anything beyond a few planks tossed across a gap, but he belittled my intelligence when I questioned his actions. When I asked why he couldn’t build me a bridge like the one in Emprise du Lion, he immediately got defensive and angry. Do you know why?”

Of course Hannah knew why Wardell would be unable to replicate the bridge in Emprise du Lion, but she also knew she could never say it out loud. She didn’t have to.

“I think he wasn’t the one who had designed that bridge,” Lily said and finally looked directly at Hannah. There was steel in those gentle brown eyes as she continued to speak. “I think it was you who did it, which is even more impressive because you had to have done it sight-unseen. Which means you should be the one who’s in charge of our engineering team.”

This was getting to be too much so Hannah set down her tea cup before she spilled any liquid.

“Inquisitor,” she said and paused. “Lily,” she corrected herself. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Master Wardell--”

“Is no longer employed by the Inquisition,” Lily finished.

A dragon could have landed between them and it would have shocked Hannah less than the words she just heard. She kept staring at Lily, her mouth slightly open.

“What?” she asked weakly.

“Master Wardell is gone. I have no patience for men who disrespect women just because they’re women,” Lily said evenly. “Which means the position of Chief Engineer is open and it would bring me great joy and satisfaction if you agreed to take it.”

Words formed at the tip of her tongue, but no matter how hard she tried, Hannah couldn’t make a sound. The fact that the bane of her existence would no longer make her life unbearable brought on such vivid relief, she actually felt her body uncoil from the stress she didn’t know she had been carrying. Then the full meaning of it all hit and her eyes widened.

“Wait, you mean--” She paused, suddenly overcome with emotions. “I’d be making all of the decisions? Officially?”

Lily smiled a little and nodded.

“Yes,” she simply said. “Will you accept the offer?”

“Yes!” Hannah immediately agreed before Lily changed her mind. She had worked her entire life to get to this point and she wasn’t going to let doubt get in her way. “I accept.”

It was such a happy feeling to know that for the first time in her life, Hannah was being recognized and rewarded for her hard work. Even when she had a commission with Queen Anora, her position was largely in name only and had been given to her as an appeasement to Warden Tara Cousland. If this thing with the Inquisition went well, Hannah would be able to finally have enough influence to force the College of Engineers to accept her among them and give her the title of “Master”.

“You’ll be taking over Wardell’s office, of course,” Lily continued. “His men arrived earlier today and have been packing everything, but once they’re done, the space is yours.”

No more crowded spaces with multiple people shuffling about and breaking her concentration, Hannah realized. She wouldn’t have to lock up her desk every time she had to step away, either. All of this information was so good, Hannah was having a hard time keeping her emotions contained.

“Thank you. You will not be disappointed,” she whispered. “This means so much to me. A lot more than you could ever imagine.”

A soft blush tinted Lily’s face as she smiled wider, clearly pleased with herself.

“I’m glad,” she said and her brows furrowed again. Something else was clearly on Lily’s mind, because she shifted in her seat and sighed deeply. “I am very sorry I didn’t realize what had been going on. If it hadn’t been for Raffy, I probably wouldn’t have known.”

Hannah blinked. “Raffy?” There were so many implications and her mind tried to consider all of them at once, creating a cacophony of thought that threatened to overwhelm her.

“He talks about you a lot, you know,” Lily offered and chuckled. “Won’t shut up, really. I feel like I already know you really well just by the stories he’s told me over the past few months.” She paused and looked down at her hands; the quiet guilt that radiated from her made Hannah frown even more. “He’s been through so much, so seeing him be so happy with you…” Lily looked up and smiled sadly. “I’m glad he’s found you, that is all.”

A familiar sort of pain swelled in Hannah’s chest as she tried to work through her emotions. It should have annoyed her that it took Raphael’s intervention to get others to respect her, but she felt grateful instead. She finally had someone in her life who was willing to fight for her and had her back - and that was invaluable. The fact he also made her incredibly happy was just a lovely side-effect.

“I’m glad, too,” she said and felt herself blush a little.

Lily kept looking at her, eyes slightly sad and distant, as if she was trying to figure out Hannah’s innermost thoughts.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

Hannah nodded. “Of course.”

“What are your intentions towards Raffy?”

Perhaps she should have known this question would come up, since their conversation had turned to such personal topics, but it still made her gape at Lily in surprise. How could she answer when she didn’t understand her own feels just yet?

“Intentions?” she said slowly. “I don’t have intentions towards Raphael. If I’m to be honest, most days I’m surprised he wants to be around me to begin with.”

Lily nodded, though she didn’t seem convinced.

“I get it - I think,” she said, then frowned. “I’m sorry. I know I’m probably coming off rude, but I can’t help worry about his well-being. The last thing I want is to watch him get his heart broken.”

Oh. It all suddenly made sense and Hannah felt herself relax. She smiled a little and felt her cooling blush return in full force.

“If that’s the case,” she said, “I can tell you one thing for sure: I don’t know what the future holds, or if we’re meant to stay together, but it’s not my intent to hurt Raphael in any way, shape, or form. I care about him very much.”

The words felt like a love confession in Hannah’s mouth, and she felt terribly embarrassed that she let herself speak so freely, but it seemed to have the desired effect: Lily’s body relaxed visibly and a small smile graced her face.

“And I’m glad to hear that,” Lily said.

Silence returned between them. It felt a little awkward to sit with Raphael’s cousin and discuss Hannah’s feelings for him, so to cover her embarrassment she reached for her tea cup again and grabbed a plate with sandwiches. Lily followed suit and they were soon engrossed in their own thoughts.

The first one to break their silence was Lily.

“So I heard you had a bit of trouble with a nobleman the other day,” she said in a casual tone. “Does that happen often?”

Hannah scowled into her tea cup at the memory.

“Not so much anymore,” she said, trying to keep a growl out of her voice. “Usually it’s enough when I glare at any idiots who feel entitled to demand things from me.”

Lily nodded along.

“Makes sense,” she said. “Still, I will not tolerate such horrible behavior within the walls of Skyhold - no matter if they are high-born or a commoner. I permanently banned him from Skyhold; Lord Bruic Scheissehausen will not bother you anymore.”

Hannah had been in the middle of a sip of tea when she heard the name of the nobleman who had accosted her and it took all of her willpower not to spit take everywhere. She coughed several times, trying to clear her airways, while Lily stared at her in confusion.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked and frowned. “I don’t actually speak Fereldan so I wasn’t sure if I got the pronunciation right.”

Once Hannah collected herself again she waved off Lily’s concerns.

“No, no, you’re quite fine in your pronunciation,” she said around a grin. “I just wasn’t prepared for the man’s name. Did Lady Montilyet not translate it for you?”

Lily’s frown deepened. “Now that you mention it, her face was unusually amused when we talked about it, but I didn’t think anything of it. What does it mean?”

Hannah snorted and broke into a new bout of laughter. “His name--- his name is Brick Shithouse,” she finally managed to get out and dissolved into unrestrained giggles.

Lily’s eyes bugged out at once as an undignified snort issued from her mouth - which she promptly covered with her hand.

“Oh Maker, that’s horrible,” she said softly.

Hannah couldn’t help herself. “A horrible name for a really… crappy man,” she said and snorted as well.

Lily groaned at the terrible pun. “That was an awful joke.”

“Not as awful as that name, though!” Hannah managed to wheeze out. She was crying-laughing at this point and Lily was having a hard time keeping things together as well. “His parents really had to hate him.”

A new thought brightened Lily’s face in delight. “No wonder he’s unmarried! Who would want to be called ‘Lady Shithouse’?”

Hannah’s brain immediately provided an answer: “Perhaps a woman named Latrine?”

That was the last straw for Lily and she burst out laughing at full volume. It further triggered Hannah and they were soon howling together while trying to stay upright on the couch. Any time either of them tried to collect themselves into a semblance of calm, she would look at the other and start laughing again. There seemed to be no end in sight.

“What’s so funny?”

Raphael’s raspy voice washed over Hannah like a blanket and made her sober up significantly. There were still tears in her eyes so she tried to wipe them off as she turned to face him - and Lily did the same. He stood there, at the top of the stairs, staring at them with curious suspicion.

“I’m not sure how to say this--” Lily started, but Hannah waved her off.

“You saved me from the shittiest man in Ferelden,” she said and burst out laughing again. Lily followed suit.

Not being in on the joke, Raphael seemed a little annoyed at the little display before him, though he did his best to play along. He moved to sit down on the couch next to Hannah and gently put his arm around her waist.

“I already knew that,” he pointed out. “That doesn’t make it so funny that the two of you are crying into your teacups.”

Once again Hannah tried to contain her mirth; she took several deep breaths and fanned her face to help dry out the tears that kept streaming down her cheeks. She pointedly avoided looking at Lily in case her amusement triggered her - this had to be said quickly.

“Apparently the nobleman who accosted me was called Lord Bruic Scheissehausen,” she said and choked on a laugh. “Which in Fereldan means Brick Shithouse!”

Both Lily and Hannah dissolved into giggles again at the way Raphael’s eyes turned into saucers in shock.

“What the fuck,” he swore. “That can’t be real.”

“Oh, it’s real alright,” Lily chimed in. “Lady Montilyet was the one to tell me his name.”

Raphael stared at Lily for a moment before his face broke into a grin.

“That’s amazing,” he said. “He’s an ass, so he deserves an asshole name.”

Another bout of laughter bubbled up in Hannah’s lungs, though it simmered down the moment she got to look into Raphael’s smiling eyes. The funny name quickly drifted out of her mind, instead replaced by a steady heartbeat of Raphael’s name her body called out any time he was near. She could feel the small circles he was rubbing into her lower back and it made her melt under his ministrations.

“Anyway,” she heard Lily say. “Now that we got our silliness out, perhaps we should finish the tea service?”

Hannah turned back to Lily in time to see the other woman smile softly in her direction. It made Hannah blush in embarrassment for getting caught in such an intimate embrace.

“Can I join you?” Raphael asked.

“Of course,” Lily replied. “Grab a cup. There should be more than enough for everybody.”

As they busied themselves with food and drink, Hannah couldn’t help but marvel at how different her life had become in a span of just few weeks. Not only she found a man who cared about her in ways she never knew possible, but she also got a promotion and gained a female friend who didn’t seem threatened by her existence. Somehow, life became good.

[fandom-collective-writers]

“Light of My Life” Edgar x MC

Thank you @lilster360 for requesting #40 from the 50 types of kiss prompt list “A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regards for what’s going on around them” and for the anon on my own blog that requested a Christmas tree lighting fic! I ended up combining the two!

Author: @toloveawarlord

              The entire day had been like a dream, from the moment she opened her eyes. Like the previous three nights, she had awoken in his bed, snuggled closely against his chest. The two had lingered there for far too long before arising to begin their day together. Edgar had the entire day off, a rare occurrence. He insisted on planning their date, keeping every stop a surprise.

              Lunch in a lovely café on the far side of the Central Quarter.

              Shopping at one too many stores, mostly browsing and trying on ridiculous outfits.

              Dinner atop the Civic Center, where only someone of his status could have gotten access this quickly. We ate delectable food, an array of sweets, and spent hours talking while watching the sun set.

              The moonlight illuminated the garden in an almost magical way. They strolled around, arms linked together. The air had grown colder, enough to see their breath. Alice nearly gasped when the snow began to fall. “It’s been so cold these last few days! I’m so glad that it’s finally snowing!” She liked the cold weather the best when it snowed.

              The clock tower chimed in the distance, and Edgar tugged her after him. “There is one last thing. A final event that I believe you will quite enjoy,” he said, as cryptic as he had always been. The day had been filled with so much fun and adventure. Alice couldn’t imagine what more he could have up his sleeve.

              The streets of the town were crowded, more so than she had ever seen at this hour. Children were running about, couples gathered together. All gathered around the largest tree she had ever seen in her life. It stood much taller than some of the buildings. Decorations were hung strategically around it. It must have taken hours for this to be put together, days even!

              The only missing thing was the lights.

              Edgar stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her to keep her warm and safe from the ever-growing crowd. “I used to come here as a child with my father. People from far ends of either territory come to see this display,” Edgar spoke softly into her ear.

              “It must be a sight,” Alice answered, already giddy with excitement. In London, a tree quite a bit smaller was placed in a similar location, and it became quite the spectacle. This would be the perfect end to their day together.

              She didn’t have her expectations high enough for the event she began to witness. The strings of crystals strung from the tops of the buildings lit first, around in succession, until it rose high up into the air, attaching to the top of the tree. Her eyes widened, unable to look away. She had never witnessed a tree being lit from top to bottom.

              The golden star sparked to life, sending streams of soft light out into the night sky. Swirling around the branches like the wind blowing petals through a field, the crystals lit up one by one, spiraling down and down. Brilliant hues of light blue and gold. The surge of lights continued until it reached the base.

              Yet it didn’t stop there.

              As if the ground itself had been laced with magic crystals beneath their feet, the space between each stone began to glow. The golden gleam creating a snowflake pattern in the middle of the town. The space radiated with the magic being brought to life. The snow twinkled as it fell, creating a picturesque scene.

              “Alice,” Edgar called out to her.

              She hadn’t felt him release her during the excitement. Turning on her heel in search of him, her gaze dropped. In the middle of that crowd, all the noise around her faded out. The luminescent ground providing a gentle light to his features, Alice could only stare.

              Edgar had bent to one knee, knowing that there would never be a more perfect opportunity than this. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest, but he held onto his charming smile. “I’ve never had anyone in my life that brings me as much genuine joy and happiness as you do. You are an incredible woman, strong, smart, and headstrong. You chose to stay here in cradle, for a man not so worthy of any love as wonderful and powerful as the love that you’ve shown me.” His voice wavered against his will. Swallowing down the nerves, Edgar continued, “Please do me the greatest honor in the world and allow me to love you for the rest of your life, Alice. Will you—”

Alice could feel the tears streaking down her cheeks, both with unbridled joy and sadness. She stumbled forward, legs weak with all the emotions bubbling up inside. Kneeling on the cold street with him, she grabbed onto the lapel of his jacket, interrupting his question. “That’s not true, Edgar. You are completely worthy of my love, of every kind of love. Please don’t think that your past transgressions are the only part of you that I see. You’re caring, and gentle, and the most wonderful man I’ve had the pleasure of falling in love with.” Her breath caught in her throat, threatening to send her into a hysterical state.

She leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips, snapping him out of the trance she had put him in. Meeting his jade eyes, Alice continued so softly that only he could hear her words, “Edgar, I love you, for all you are. From now until eternity. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Time seemed to freeze in that moment for the both of them. Happiness spilled out. His arms around her waist, their lips meeting in another kiss. It quickly grew more feverish, each trying to convey all their feelings to the other. Joy. Happiness. Passion. An overwhelming amount of unbreakable love that grew increasingly stronger each and every day.

In the middle of a crowded street, in a town ruled by magic and wonder, the strongest magic of all had begun to take two lives deeper into it’s never ending bliss.

[marmolady]

Rekindling

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Just a short follow up to my New Year’s Kiss entry (which you can find here: New Year’s Kiss. Rourke ending. Some Estela x MC fluffiness, cause I’m a sucker for that shit. 

Word Count: 1776 words

Tagging: @sceptilemasterr @bbaba-yagaa @bbaba-yagaa

Taylor pulled away from the kiss first, worrying that she’d overstepped, despite the fact that it was Estela who’d initiated it. It was a bizarre feeling, to lovingly embrace her wife, as she’d done so many times before, but to have no idea if it meant to Estela what it did to her.

“Was that… okay? I don’t know why I…” Estela stopped. That wasn’t true. She knew why. She didn’t understand how- how on earth she was in love with this woman. She didn’t go around falling in love with people, opening herself up to them. But it wasn’t just memories now… she could feel it. Deep within her bones, a wonderful ache that all but overwhelmed her. And Taylor… Taylor wanted it too. Her eyebrow furrowed, she ran her fingers along Taylor’s face. God, she’s beautiful. “I think I…” Love you? Shit, shit, shit, you can’t just come out and say-

“That was… wonderful,” Taylor murmured, feeling alight at the touch. “Do you… do you remember? Any of it?”

Estela closed her eyes. “I remember. I can feel so much… as real as any memories I’ve ever had. How did I have a whole other life that I forgot? How did I forget… you? I lo-“ She caught herself. “I’m so confused.”

Before she could respond, Taylor was pushed back into the couch by a desperate hug.

“Jesus, what’s wrong with me?”

Taylor wrapped her arms around Estela, her heart simultaneously soaring at the feel of her closeness and breaking at her turmoil. This was never going to be easy. “Nothing’s wrong with you, okay? It’s just Rourke screwing with everything.”

Estela recoiled, bristling. She ran her hands through her hair. “My mom… she’s with him. She’s not safe… she’s not…”

“Hey,” Taylor said, reaching out to grasp Estela’s hand. “it’s gonna be okay.”

“You don’t know…” Estela growled.

“No… I don’t. I- I can’t promise that no one will get hurt. But… I know that we’ve got each other now, and I know we’ve beaten Rourke before. I can promise that I will fight for you, and for everyone you love, to my dying breath.”

Estela squeezed Taylor’s hand, wincing. It was all too much… she was suffocating. She’d been walloped with a whole other lifetime’s worth of emotions, and it was turning into a sharp physical pain in her head. Feeling it all come back; the happiness she’d felt with her friends and with Taylor, a warming blast of sunshine that she didn’t know she’d missed… and the realisation of how much danger her mother was in, how she was so far away with her life in the hands of a man who’d had her murdered by a trusted friend… it was just too much. She had to do something, but the sheer overwhelm of lost memories left her in a raging storm that she simply couldn’t fight. Her free hand tightly holding her head, willing the sudden, crippling pain to stop, she cried.

Her heart wrenching, Taylor reached out, holding onto Estela, pulling her close, loving her. “I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered. She didn’t know if she’d ever hated Rourke more. “It… it’s gonna get easier. More clear. I know you’re not gonna want to… but I think you need to just be gentle on yourself and let yourself adjust.”

“Sit back when I know he has her?” Estela’s whole body trembled as she spoke.

Taylor held her tighter, realising how close they were teetering toward a very dangerous situation. “Yes.” She spoke forcefully, but her voice quickly softened. “I need you… to trust me. I know everything’s overwhelming right now… but we’ve gotta be careful about this.”

“I know that… but it feels like my head’s gonna explode. I need to do something.”

“I think for now, ‘doing something’ means getting your head straight. I get it. Really, I do. I’ve been trying so hard to reach out to you all, but it’s felt like I’m getting nowhere. You know Zahra’s in the next room? It’s been months, but she’s still closed off. I know some of it’s coming back to her, but she acts like I’m crazy. But you came here. You remembered. I just don’t think it’s possible to do this any faster. We need each other- all of us- but it’s easier said than done when no one wants to know.”

Estela became quiet. Her breathing steadied from a raging pant, and she let herself relax, slowly but surely. She was tired. Drained. She could understand why the others might resist the startling dreams and visions; to actually have allowed herself to succumb to the memories had knocked the stuffing out of her. Even now, certain as she was that everything she’d seen and felt was real, her mind was a jumble of questions, and of different realities competing. It was gut wrenching to know that she couldn’t get to her mom. Olivia had kept away, minimised contact. For Estela’s protection, that now seemed clear. Surely… surely, she’d be trying to somehow take Rourke down, to put things right. Estela had seen little of her mother growing up, for Rourke had recruited her early and made certain to keep her close. But now… now their life together, a life that the snake had taken away, had become clearer. That son of a bitch had stolen every joy from her life. Estela felt her hands curl into fists against Taylor’s back, and then once again she softened. Taylor… her Taylor was holding her. She closed her eyes, just taking in the feel of her, letting her focus be on nothing other than the scent of her partner’s skin, the comforting rhythm of her heartbeat, the touch of her fingers stroking her back.

“Taylor,” she breathed. “I’m sorry too. I wish… I wish you weren’t so alone.” Thinking back to her early indifference, annoyance even, towards Taylor was painful. What Rourke had done to her was just so… so unspeakably cruel. “I’ll help you. I don’t know how I’ll help… it was hard enough opening up to them the first time round… but I’ll do it with you. We’ll reach them.”

Taylor was looking at Estela with a gaze so warm and affectionate that it made her blush. There was a silent longing there.

Estela felt her heart thumping hard against her chest. “You can kiss me, you know. You… look like you want to. I don’t bite.”

“My love, I know it’s all still coming back to you, but I’m pretty sure you do bite.” Taylor smirked, amused as Estela’s cheeks turned a deeper red. “I, uh, I just don’t want to push you too much. This has all been… intense.”

“Kiss me. I want you to. Please.”

Caught off guard, Taylor felt her breath catch in her throat. She could feel heat radiating between them, drawing her closer and closer. Estela’s gaze was heavy with desire and it lingered on Taylor’s mouth. She tipped Estela’s face gently towards her with one finger so they were just a breath apart, and let her eyes flutter closed. Taylor pressed her lips against Estela’s… tentative at first, but powered further, harder, by the pleasurable jolt of electricity that pulsed through her body. Estela moaned against her mouth as Taylor’s tongue caressed her lip. Their arms wrapped around one another in a tangle, fingers delving into hair, hands pulling one another closer.

After an age, they came apart. Taylor leant back into the couch, grinning from ear to ear. “So… that ring any bells?”

Estela’s face was bright with the sweetest of smiles. The confusion, the fear, the agonising pain in her head… it all seemed to fall away. For now, the only thing that made sense to her was Taylor, and she had no idea why she’d spent so many weeks fighting what had always been true. “You can give me a few more reminders, if you like.”

Exhausted, she collapsed against Taylor’s chest and nuzzled in. “I need to get some sleep. I haven’t been sleeping well… all the dreams. I guess it’s gonna get worse before it gets better.”

“We’ll fix it,” said Taylor confidently. “I know with Diego it took a little while, but it’s kinda settled. He gets the odd dream, but it’s not like a constant onslaught anymore.”

“I hope so.”

“Hey… do you… do you wanna sleep with me tonight?” She added hurriedly, “I’m not pushing for anything to… er… happen, but since you’re already here and it’s late, I… I’d like to wake up with you next to me again.”

“You don’t mind someone tossing and turning next to you all night?”

“And snoring,” Taylor said with a smirk. “But that’s just how much I love you.”

They crept into the room Taylor shared with Diego. It was a cramped space, really only intended to house one student, but as Diego had begun to recall their friends and the events of La Huerta, the room had become their sanctuary. By now, he’d fallen into bed and was sound asleep. With a glance over to the slumbering Diego, Estela followed Taylor onto the other bed. Her mind wandered back to her handfasting… Diego had been there too, making his own commitment. What had Rourke done to Varyyn and his people?

Taylor made to undress and paused. “You don’t mind if I…?”

Estela took the bottom of Taylor’s shirt and carefully pulled it over her head. “Does it look like I mind?”

Stripped down to their underwear, the two women tucked themselves into bed, immediately appreciating the warmth that skin to skin contact gave them. With no prompting, Estela edged in close to Taylor’s back and nuzzled her face against her neck. She wriggled one arm around her shoulder and draped the other over her chest. The steady rise and fall lulled her into a state of quiet bliss. It was just as it had been.

“I don’t snore, by the way…” Estela grumbled into Taylor’s shoulder.

“Sure, you don’t.” Taylor gave a tired giggle and put her arm over her chest so that her fingers rested against Estela’s. “But you have any weird dreams and want to talk, just wake me up- anytime. We’re gonna get through this.” She felt Estela’s body relaxing around her, seemingly finding the same security that she was giving Taylor. “Sleep well, Estela.”

And then, the words that she’d feared she would never again hear…

“I love you, Taylor.”

Just a whisper, muffled and tired, but full of certainty and without a trace of fear. Taylor’s heart skipped a beat.

“I love you too, Estela. I always will.”

[teruthecreator]

Who She Wants to Be

ummmmmm, so this was supposed to be a short lil’ thing based on @tazdelightful‘s blupjeans baby that i’ve had many a thought about because i needed a reason to start writing again

buuuuuuut then i made it 11 pages long and oops! pobody’s nerfect i guess!! (theres a brief mention of drugs/drug use, but its pot and its also like literally two lines but just thought id mention) 

She was born in a ring of fire. Ravens croaked and cawed, perched diligently all around the Raven Queen’s chamber, watching with beady eyes as she was birthed. Blessed by two powerful goddesses upon birth, she opened her eyes to a shadowy room and the teary-eyed faces of her mother and father. Her mother gasped at the sight, while her father could barely contain the tears that were flowing in streams down his face. A dark mass, looming past those faces, seemed to radiate a loving warmth from its being as it addressed the two:

“She is beautiful,” Her parents nodded in response, too overwhelmed to produce a verbal response.

“She’s our beautiful Marlena,” her father whispered hoarsely, and then a strange mass passed over her line of sight as he moved to cup her face.

She was born in a ring of fire, in the presence of two powerful goddesses, in the realm of the Raven Queen.

And all Marlena Bluejeans could do, in that exact moment following her birth, was scream as loud as humanly possible.

                                                             ---

At age four and a half (the half was extremely important), Marlena decided she only wanted to wear polka dotted corduroy pants, and only polka dotted corduroy pants.

“Lena, sweetie, please come back!” Her father could be heard shouting down the hall as Marlena races to the steps, giggling all the while. She reaches the stairs and clumsily bounds down them to the first floor, her father’s worried voice echoing through the large home. On the first floor, she makes a mad dash to the kitchen, where her mother was making lunch.

Upon arrival, Marlena immediately ducks behind her mother’s legs, still giggling like a madwoman. Her mother pauses her vicious stirring of something to peer at her runt of a daughter, a mischievous smile tugging on the corners of her lips.

“What’s goin’ on, lil’ stinker?” she asks, just as her husband rounds the corner and skids to halt. Marlena giggles even more as her father takes two steps into the kitchen, then leans over the island counter to desperately catch his breath. Not even her mother can hold in her laughter, as she lets out a snort and asks, “You good, Bear?”

He nods his head into the counter, taking a couple deep breaths before lifting his body off of the counter and presenting the lilac purple t-shirt he’s been clutching in his hands.

“Shirt. Please. Wear.” He pants, which prompts his wife to finally get a proper look at her daughter. And, just as her husband implied, she was most certainly not wearing a shirt. Her favorite pair of purple-and-pink polka dotted corduroy pants, yes, but definitely not a shirt.

Marlena giggles some more as her mother shakes her head.

“We’re not goin’ out anywhere, babe, just let her wear the pants.” She says, taking the few steps to reach her husband and kiss him on the cheek. “Let her be rogue for the short time she can be.”

“B-But, honey, she needs a shirt--”

“And you need a new pair of work pants because, if last I checked, somebody ‘accidentally’ burned a hole in his old pair. But you don’t see me dragging your ass out to the store any time soon, huh?” Her husband considers this, face tinted with an embarrassed blush, before conceding.

“Alright, alright,” he says, causing both mother and daughter to cheer. He smiles and shakes his head, scooping up Marlena and pointing a playfully-strict finger at her. “But when we go to dinner with Uncle Taako and Uncle Kravitz tomorrow, you are wearing a shirt.”

Marlena giggles and nods her head, though she knows well enough that her father will give up again; just like he’s done countless times before.

                                                              ---

At age eight, Marlena learns Magic Missile. Which is, admittedly, pretty great; figuring no one taught her Magic Missile. But it’s also pretty bad because that means no one is expecting her to know Magic Missile, which makes them finding out even more of a catastrophe.

“Pshaw, psh psh pew! Take that!” Marlena cries out from the living room of her uncles’ apartment, playing pretend-magic with her Uncle Taako’s Krebstar. She bounds over the plush couch and does a tuck-and-roll as she avoids shots from her invisible assailants.

Nearly ten feet away, in the kitchen, her Uncle Kravitz worries.

“Love, is it really safe for her to be playing with your magical focus?” he says, chopping a head of iceberg lettuce with practiced ease. “What if she gets hurt?”

Taako pushaws at his husband’s remark, cracking some black pepper into the sauce he’s been working on. “The most that kid can do with that thing is let off a few sparks. And if it keeps her busy, then fine by me. I only have so much energy to keep up with a direct spawn of Lup’s energy and cook a baller dinner at the same time.” Kravitz chuckles under his breath, careful to keep his knowledge of Taako’s legitimate love and adoration of his niece to himself. He knows for a fact that that girl could ask for anything in the entire multiverse, and Taako would find a way to give her it and then some.

“As long as you’re certain--” Kravitz’s sentence is cut off by a loud exclamation of “ABRA-KA-FLIP-YOU!” before an even louder boom startles the pair. Taako’s already five feet ahead of Kravitz before he can even turn and notice the charred remains of a few priceless paintings on the wall of their living room, as well as the hole burned clean through the wall itself.

And, standing a couple of steps away from the wreckage, is the culprit; Marlena, looking both triumphant and terrified, clutching the Krebstar in a battle stance.

Both adults gape at the scene before them, unable to parse what exactly happened, when Marlena drops the Krebstar and takes a giant step backward.

“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry,” she says as tears begin to build in her eyes. Before they have the chance to fall, though, her uncle lets out a wheeze of laughter.

“Holy shit this is fucking incredible,” Taako wheezes out as he waves a hand over the wreckage, mending the wall and extinguishing the flames in a matter of seconds. “Bubbeleh, you do not need to apologize for some sick-ass casting.” This seems to both confuse Marlena and alarm Kravitz.

“Taako, she just burned a hole through our wall.” Kravitz says, taking a step toward his husband. “Th-This is an obvious sign of that unkempt magical energy Barry kept saying he was detecting on her as an infant. We need to do something about that.” Taako looks back to his husband and rolls his eyes, walking the short distance to his forgotten focus and hefting it over his shoulder.

“Yeah, what we’re gonna do is invest in some targets and get this girl her own wand.” he says as he ruffles Marlena’s hair. ��Ch’girl got some crazy skills already and we haven’t even taught her anything.” He looks down to address his niece with a lazy grin. “But starting tomorrow we’re gonna be holding Magic Day at your momma’s house.”

Marlena’s eyes light up, and she lets out a gleeful noise as she hugs her uncle. Taako instinctively hoists her up into his free arm to hug her properly, and Kravitz sighs fondly at the two. Before Taako can notice, though, Kravitz makes his way back to the kitchen; where a forgotten dinner needs to be finished, and a Stone of Farspeech awaits a call to his coworkers.

                                                                ---

At age twelve, Marlena sits her parents down for a talk.

“You want to do what now?” Her mother asks skeptically, setting her morning cup of coffee on the table.

“I want to stay with traditional schooling.” Marlena repeats, her tone serious and unflinching even as both her parents eye her with concern and bafflement.

“But, sweetie, just last week you were complaining about those boys who keep asking you about your mother! Wouldn’t homeschooling fix that?” Her father says, hands folded in the way he does when he’s too nervous to figure out what to do with them.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t bother me enough to make me want to leave all my friends!” Marlena says.

“But it’s not like they’re giving you any new information.” Her mother adds with an accusing jab of her finger. “I’ve seen you sneaking around with Ango’s college textbooks; I know you know more than what you’re letting on! And we’re already teaching you magic, so what’s the big deal about us teaching you everything else?”

“You would learn at your own pace, and at your own leisure,” her father continues. “And just because it’s called ‘homeschooling’ doesn’t mean we’re going to force you to stay here. The rest of the family are all on-board with taking you in for weeks at a time to teach you their own tricks of the trade. Uncle Taako’s already called dibs on you for the next month!”

“You could graduate in, like, a year; just like your cousin! Doesn’t that sound great?” Her mother finishes with an enthusiastic grin, much like the one her father is also sporting. All the joy they seem to have about this idea is cut short when Marlena slams her hand down on the table.

“No!” She exclaims, her half-elf ears twitching slightly in frustration. “Because what you don’t get is that I don’t want to graduate in a year!” This causes her parents to both freeze, glancing nervously back at one another to see what the other might say. But Marlena gives them no time to say anything when she stands up and gestures angrily at nothing.

“Look, I get it. You guys both want what’s best for me, you love me, yadda yadda. But I’m not like my cousin. I don’t have a family I’m desperately trying to avoid because of personal reasons, and I don’t have a career I’m desperately trying to pursue. I’m just a kid who wants to do kid things like play kickball in Gym and write essays on topics I think are boring! You just don’t understand that I hide my knowledge from you guys because I want you to keep me in school!”

“It’s hard being me! Every other week I’m getting kidnapped by necromancers looking to use me; if I sneeze too hard sometimes I let out a bolt of lightning because I still don’t have full control of my magic; and people publish articles about me if I decide to wear the same jacket two days in a row! I just wanna be like every other middle schooler and go to school! And play soccer with friends after class! And eat Cheese Wiz straight from the can on a dare, even though I know it’ll make me puke! I just. Want. A normal life.”

She’s panting by the time she finishes, and there are angry tears building in the corners of her eyes. But she’s said what she had to say, and so she plops back down in her chair and holds her breath for a response.

“We…” Her mother mutters, eyes still wide and mouth slightly agape. “I…”

“Aw, beans,” her father says as he leans over to hug his daughter. “Lena, we didn’t know.”

“Well, we did--we did know all that other stuff--about the kidnapping and the jacket thing--but uh, we didn’t, uh. We didn’t realize how you felt.” Her mother fumbles for the right words, standing to also hug her daughter. “We’re sorry we hurt you, Len-Len…”

“You didn’t--” Marlena sniffles. “You didn’t hurt me. I just...I didn’t tell you. It’s my fault…” Her father shakes his head and reaches around to pet her hair.

“No blame game, missy. If anyone is at fault for this, it’s us,” he says sternly. “We’re your parents, and we should know when our daughter’s upset.” His wife nods as she wedges herself into the hug.

“Yeah, he’s right.” she adds with a reassuring squeeze of Marlena’s hand. “So the next time you feel something this strongly, you come and tell us. Because we’re still, uh, sorta new at this; and we don’t always catch when something’s bothering you.”

“Y-You’re not mad, though?” Marlena asks, squished between her parents in an awkward tangle of bodies and limbs. Her mother guffaws.

“Mad? Bullshit! I would’ve felt worse if we had gone through in pulling you out of school!” She pulls away from the hug to look her daughter in the eye. “Sweetie, we love you. We want what you want.”

“Unless that ‘want’ involves drugs, alcohol, crime, necromancy, et cetra.” Her husband adds.

“Yeah, except that. But if it’s something like school,” she rolls her eyes. “Go buck wild, sweetcheeks. Go play soccer out back. Play pranks on the shitty subs. Eat a bug. We just want you to be happy.” Both of Marlena’s parents lean in to kiss her on the forehead, causing Marlena to gag and push them away with a laugh. The three of them share in this moment for a while before the morning settles into its usual routine.

About an hour after the fact, Marlena clears her throat to catch the attention of her parents.

“Uh, I know we just got done with the whole ‘I wanna stay in school’ thing. But uh, if Uncle Taako still has the offer open…” She trails off, looking nervously around the room. Her mother laughs and pulls out her Stone of Farspeech.

“I’m sure he can re-clear his schedule.”

                                                             ---

At sixteen, Marlena gets caught redhanded at the Spring Formal.

“It’s not what you think!” Marlena quickly exclaims, even though it is exactly what it seems. If this was her mother, it would all be over. Guns ablazing; fury absolute; no survivors. If it were her father, then it would be weird. A lot of awkward coughs, little to no eye contact, and a very stiff conversation to follow at home.

But, somehow, Marlena got the worst out of any of these options; her Uncle Merle.

“Uh-huh, suuuuure,” he says, surveying the scene before him. “It sure doesn’t look like ya were just mackin’ on this young lady, riiight.” He turns his attention to the nervous girl standing beside Marlena. “And what’s yer name, hun?”

“U-Uhhhh,” she stutters, cheeks a fiery red. “Isabelle.” Merle nods his head and runs a hand through his crunchy beard.

“Well, Isabelle, why dontcha just run on back inside the cafeteria so me and my niece can have a chat, alright?” Isabelle cannot nod fast enough, and she gives Marlena one final glance before racing down the darkened hallway and back to the dance.

The silence left behind by Isabelle’s exit is deafening, and Marlena looks far too wired to try and explain what Merle just waddled into. Merle, on his end, looks like he has all the time in the world to address the fact that he just caught his niece kissing someone at a high school dance.

“Sooooo, I’m guessin’ I don’t need to give you a talk ‘bout the birds and bees.” Merle starts off, causing Marlena to immediately shake her head. “Figured. But, uh, that girl. She, uhhhhhh, you two dating?” Marlena looks around for a couple of seconds, before looking at her heel-clad feet and nodding her head. “Figured that, too. How long?”

There’s a shift in the air around them before Marlena mutters, “Four months,” and then promptly slaps a hand over her mouth. Merle chuckles and shakes his head.

“You been around me for how long, kid, and you didn’t think I’d try an’ Zone of Truth ya?”

“I’m not exactly thinking right now, okay!?” Marlena blurts out. “I’m kind of experiencing my Worst Case Scenario at the moment, so if you could excuse my lack of oversight on you casting the same damn spell for the millionth time that would be great!” She slaps a hand over her mouth again, then drops it when Merle laughs some more.

“Geez, somebody’s feisty tonight…” Merle looks around, then shakes his head. “Come on, this is no place for a talk this.”

And then, just like that; they’re in a simple office with a long table, surrounded by cushy office chairs, overlooking a sunset-filled sky.

Marlena rolls her eyes.

“Parley. Really?” She looks at him with an uninterested stare. Merle huffs at her.

“What? I’ll have you know I’ve had some great conversations in here!”

“Yeah, and most of them ended in you dying…” Marlena points out as she walks to the table and plops down in one of the chairs. Merle laughs again and sits across from her, a chess board suddenly appearing between them.

“Hopefully this one won’t,” he gestures to the board, a silent offer that is met with a silent confirmation. He moves his first piece and leans back in his chair.

“So. Four months is a long time to go without introducing her to the family.” Merle says, watching Marlena tense before she moves a pawn. “You had any plans on having her meet us orrrr….”

“I did.” she mutters, moving another piece. “That all kind of just got ruined, though, and she’s probably never going to talk to me again, so that’s something.”

“Why do you think that?” Merle moves a bishop.

“Because people have this ill-conceived notion that you’re all these big, intimidating people; and she’s gonna get scared that you’re all going to come after her, or somethin’...” she moves another pawn.

“That’s kind of a stupid thought,”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because she’s your girlfriend!” Merle says as he captures one of Marlena’s pawns. “Listen, I may be no ‘romance expert’, but four months is a long time for relationships, at your age. If she wasn’t scared off by the thought of your family being the Seven Birds before, then I don’t think that’s suddenly going to change because one of them caught you two swappin’ spit in the Music hallway.”

“Gross,” Marlena mutters as she captures Merle’s knight.

“Listen, love is love. Once you love somebody, it takes a lot to change your mind about that.” Merle continues as he moves his rook. “Look, if Dav still hasn’t left me after alla my baggage, then I think there’s plenty of hope for you and your girl.” He captures Marlena’s king in one fell swoop and sits back again. “Now, I’m not saying you two are necessarily ‘in love’; but by the way she was lookin’ at you before she split, I think it’s pretty damn close. She wouldn’t let that go because of something dumb like this.”

Marlena stares at the board, a little dumbfounded, before letting out a little chuckle of her own.

“I guess you’re right…” She says, fiddling with her queen. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” Merle asks with a quirked brow. Marlena’s ears turn a little pink.

“It’s just I’m...afraid. Of what Mom and Dad will think.” At that, Merle snorts.

“Honey, you got several uncles and aunts who are in the LGBT community; and so are your own damn parents. No one’s gonna freak out at you liking girls.” Marlena huffs and shakes her head.

“Not about that!” She replies, her voice cracking. “About...the time…”

“About the fact that you waited four months to tell them you have a girlfriend?” Merle says, to which she nods. Merle pauses for a minute, running his soulwood hand through his beard a few times, before having an idea. “Well, how about I don’t tell anybody about this little fiasco, as long as you promise me that you’ll bring Isabelle to the next family dinner?” Marlena looks up at Merle in shock. “That way it gives you a coupla weeks to figure out how you wanna go about it. That sound good?”

“Y-Yes!” She blurts, this time without any magical prompting. “You got a deal!” She reaches over the table to seal the deal with a handshake, to which Merle complies. “And, uh, thanks. I guess. For being cool about this.”

Merle hops off the chair and shrugs.

“Eh, that’s what makes me the ‘Chill Uncle”. Now let’s get you back to the dance, so your principal doesn’t think I snuck off the property to smoke some pot.”

And in another blink of an eye, they were back in that dark hallway. Marlena smiles at Merle one last time before running off to meet up with her girlfriend, leaving Merle to linger in the hallway.

“Ah, young love.” He sighs wistfully, watching Marlena’s figure disappear around a corner. He stands there for about another two minutes before shrugging and reaching into his pocket.

“Well, guess no one’ll miss Ol’ Merle tonight.” He says, waddling towards the back entrance, joint in hand.

                                                              ---

At age eighteen, Marlena graduated second in her class. She claimed it was because of a class she struggled with her Junior year, but her closest circle of friends know it’s primarily because she didn’t want to seem like she was handed the title of valedictorian. And if that left her girlfriend of two years at the very top, then that was only a bonus.

At graduation, Marlena doesn’t look for her family in the seats, because she can hear them several miles away.

“THAT’S MY GIRL!!!” Her mother screams from her seat, much to the dismay of the security guard standing a mere two feet away. “HI BABY!!!! WE LOVE YOU!!!” Not even her father, who is the more reserved of the two, is holding back his enthusiasm; screaming his fair share of positive words and firing off a few harmless sparks of magic.

Marlena rolls her eyes with a fond grin as she takes her seat in her row. Isabelle is beside her, reaching out to take her hand and give it a good squeeze. Marlena looks at her and gestures with her head back toward the crowd.

“If anybody asks, they aren’t my family.” She says, earning a small chuckle from her girlfriend.

“Then whose dinner did I crash last weekend?” Isabelle asks, earning herself her own giggle. The ceremony cuts their banter short as their principal addresses the crowd. After a performance from the Senior Choir, Marlena gets up to deliver her speech to the crowd. Isabelle shoots her a thumbs up as she reaches the stage, and Marlena smiles as she makes it to the podium. She’s never been one for public speaking, but this speech has been rehearsed enough times to where she could recite it without the paper in front of her.

“I was born in a ring of fire.” She begins, her voice echoing down the rows of families. “Ravens stood attentive around the room when I was born, and I was blessed by the powers of both the Raven Queen and Istus. When I was born, it has been said that both life and death stood at a perfect balance. And then, I screamed.”

“I screamed and screamed, and even when my mother tried to comfort me, I still screamed. My father told me that I screamed for an entire day, and it took being place in my crib to get me to stop. Now, I don’t know what this means entirely, but I can assume it means what I’ve always thought of myself: that I’m not special. I’m not special because, at the end of the day, I screamed like every other baby that’s ever been born does. I’m not special because I still slept in a crib, and I still wore diapers, and I still crapped my pants.”

“So when the world started telling me I was special, I was confused. Who decided I was special? It certainly wasn’t me; nor was it my parents. I was a kid, like every other kid on the planet. And I grew up, just like everyone else does. Now I’m graduating, just like every other kid sitting in these seats in front of me. I’m no different than your child, or anyone else’s child.”

“So I guess what I’m trying to say is: make yourself who you want to be. Set your own goals; follow your own path. Don’t let what others try and tell you be what you are if that’s not how you feel. Be the person you want to be. And if that person goes off to college, then that’s great. If not, then that’s great too. Because society doesn’t have the right to decide who you get to be. The only person who gets to decide that is you.”

“I was born in a ring of fire, in the deepest part of the Astral Plane, surrounded by goddesses with immeasurable amounts of power. But I still screamed, just like every other baby did when they were born.”

Her speech was met with thunderous applause, and a lot of erratic cheering from her family members. And, as she went back to her seat and watched the first solo performance of the ceremony, she smiled to herself.

Her name is Marlena Bluejeans, and she is exactly who she wants to be.

[fontainebleau22]

Box of Frogs (Part 5)

From @tramstrams‘ not-at-all-serious prompt, ‘an AU with magic, but something has gone terribly awry and people are being turned into frogs. Only Sam Chisolm can stop this madness’.

Part 1 here. Part 2 here. Part 3 here. Part 4 here.

---

‘Turned into what?’ Sam stood in the doorway to the living-room, taking in the glass tanks full of foliage, humming equipment, stacks of brightly-coloured handbooks on amphibian care and plastic tubs spilling out … eugh.

‘Frogs.’ Goody was haggard, his normally well-trimmed beard beginning to bristle, and dark circles under his eyes: when he’d opened the door he’d fallen on Sam’s neck with the fervour of a drowning man. ‘That’s Joshua up there.’ 

Sam peered suspiciously into the tank on the shelf. Yes, definitely a frog, mottled green and brown with paler ridges along its sides, motionless apart from the rapid in-and-out of its breathing. Joshua?

‘Billy’s in here.’ Goody collapsed onto the sofa beside the larger tank on the coffee-table. ‘He won’t come out straight away – I’ll see if I can encourage him with the misting spray.’

Goody fiddled with a dial, but squinting into the tangle of leaves Sam saw nothing, only a running stream and mossy stones. He frowned. ‘You sure they’re not just pulling your leg?’

Goody looked at him reproachfully: he certainly seemed too agitated for it to be a joke. ‘Ale saw it happen both times: Josh got frogged right in front of him. And Billy too.’

Sam glanced around as though Ale might be lurking unnoticed somewhere in the room. ‘So where is he now?’

‘I put him in with Josh.’ Goody gestured vaguely towards the tank. ‘He’ll be hanging behind those branches – tree frogs are nocturnal.’ Sam leaned closer: he could just make out an indistinct green blob clinging half-hidden behind the leaves.

Right. Sam attempted to rally his rational forces. ‘Is everyone a frog but you?’

Goody nodded exhaustedly. ‘Jack’s in the bathtub.’

‘The bathtub,’ echoed Sam blankly. 

‘He’s a bullfrog,’ explained Goody impatiently. ‘He needs the space, though you should hear his croaking.’ 

Sam felt himself beginning to struggle. ‘You’ve been sharing your bath with Jack? What happens when you want to shower?’

 Goody gave him a withering look. ‘I put him in the basin. Look, can you try to focus on what’s important?’

Sam sat down heavily on the sofa. A flash of blue ricocheted across the habitat in front of him and a delicate black-striped frog landed next to the pool; it seemed to regard him sagely. He tried again to get to grips with the situation. ‘Where’s Red?’

Goodnight pointed upward. ‘On the roof.’

‘On the-‘ Sam bit himself off before he started parroting again. ‘Isn’t that a mite dangerous for him?’

Goody stared at him in puzzlement, then snapped. ‘He’s a hawk, not a frog. He hasn’t been human since Tuesday, I’ve had to wrangle this all on my own. I’ve been counting the days till you came back.

It certainly wasn’t the return he’d been expecting: Sam blew a breath out through his moustache. ‘How did it all happen?’

Goodnight was leaning forward over the large habitat, working at the latches. ‘It’s- there’s this woman,’ he said distractedly, ‘loses her temper, zap!, frogs. Can’t reason with her. Look, none of that matters.’ He grabbed Sam’s elbow with one hand. ‘It just hasn’t worn off, and there’s no cure we could find – kissing him doesn’t work, and what Joshua and Ale have been doing in there together – well, that doesn’t work either. It’s why I need you.’ He fixed Sam with such an earnest expression that Sam couldn’t help reaching to squeeze his shoulder comfortingly. ‘I kept telling myself, all I had to do was hold out till you came back.’

Sam Chisolm, officer of the law, six feet of well-preserved muscle and moustache, handsome, robust and a complete anomaly: a man without a magical fibre in his being. No ability could survive contact with him: from his childhood he had walked in a bubble of mundane reality, left sitting alone on the ground while a tree lifted his friends in its branches, speaking dogs clamming up into resentful silence at his presence, the flying ball that skimmed before a chase of laughing children falling inert to the ground at his touch

As he’d grown older he’d discovered he could make a bottomless flask of whisky turn up rattling and empty and the dancing pictures conjured by a barroom storyteller flicker to meaningless static; he’d made more enemies than he cared to count jostling elbows at a crowded counter and inadvertently stripping the glamour from a man or woman of irrestistible charm.

His stubborn resistance irked him, inevitably, when he had to put up with a minor injury Goody couldn’t cure, when his houseplants withered and died without Teddy’s ministrations, when he saw Faraday roll cheerfully through a wave of green lights which flicked relentlessly to red as Sam approached.

But in a world where everyone manifested some ability, useful or entertaining, the man who stood apart had power of his own. Sam could take pride in an exceptional career in law enforcement: he was the man who could clap a hand on the shoulder of a burglar and enjoy the dawning horror as his super-speed deserted him, the man in whose presence the lies of a con artist would fall clunking and flat from his tongue, the man who could walk confidently through a fog of confusion and slap the cuffs on the crime lord at its heart. Mundane and flat his world might be, but Sam served Justice, and served her well. 

‘You can touch them and make it wear off.’ 

‘Well, yes….’ Sam temporised, but Goody had already set aside the lid of the vivarium and was making frog-coaxing noises to draw Billy out. ‘I’d best put him on the sofa, the coffee table won’t take his weight…’

Sam put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘Goody, wait a minute.’

Goody’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Wait? It’s been days. I can’t imagine what he’s been going through: he’s been eating insects.’

 ‘Have you really thought this through?’ 

Goody made a sudden grab inside the tank and turned to him, hands cupped over his amphibian husband. ‘I’ve been doing nothing but think. All you have to do is touch him and he’ll be human again.’ 

‘It’s not that…’ Sam pressed himself backwards against the cushions, but Goody pursued him. ‘Here.’ 

With an inward sigh Sam caved. ‘Put him down, then.’ 

Goody opened his hands and Billy hopped co-operatively onto the cushion; Sam extended a finger and – flunch! – there was humanBilly sitting between them, rather dishevelled and slightly dazed. 

‘Sweetheart,’ cried Goody, folding him enthusiastically into his embrace. ‘Are you alright?’ 

‘Gkk.’ Billy coughed and swallowed, then looked as though he wished he hadn’t. 

‘I knew you’d fix it!’ Over Billy’s shoulder Goody’s face radiated joy; he pulled back to run his hands solicitously over Billy’s arms. ‘How do you feel? Did I do anything wrong?’ 

Billy stuck his tongue out experimentally, squinting at it, then held up his hand for examination. Goody folded his own around it and drew Billy back again to kiss his brow. He looked at Sam, still sitting at Billy’s side. ‘Could you … give us a minute?’ 

‘No,’ said Sam. 

Goody’s brow creased as Billy struggled from his embrace to frown at the vivarium. ‘It’s been a week: we could use a little privacy. Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.’

‘You don’t understand,’ began Sam, but Goody rose to his feet. ‘Then excuse us – Billy and I will go and you can get started on the others.’

Billy was still touching the tank tentatively;  Goody took his hand and tugged him gently away. ‘Come with me, sweetheart, let me see you’re not–’

Billy took four obedient steps from the sofa, then - zap! - disappeared. Sam and Goody looked down together: where he had been standing was once more a tiny blue frog.

‘No,’ gasped Goody, falling to his knees. ‘No, no, no.’

‘I was trying to explain-‘ started Sam.

‘Quick,’ begged Goody, ‘touch him again!’

Sam heaved reluctantly to his feet. ‘This isn’t going to…’ Oh, why bother? Goody wasn’t going to listen. He squatted down and extended a finger again.

Flunch! There was humanBilly again, swaying a little. ‘I think,’ he said, voice rusty from disuse, ‘I’d like this to stop happening.’ He tried to scratch his eye with his foot and toppled over onto the carpet.

‘Sorry,’ said Sam with a pang of guilt. He jumped to his feet before Goody could stop him and headed for the door.

Zap! 

Goody let out a wail of despair as frogBilly hopped away and Sam took advantage of his distraction to duck into the hallway. ‘Goody, you have to listen. He’ll only stay human as long as I’m here, right next to him.’

There was a flurry from the living room and Goody reappeared, hands cupped protectively. ‘Then stay in contact with him.’

Sam backed away, hands raised defensively, but Goody followed him step by step. ‘What happens when I need to go home?’

‘You can stay,’ objected Goody, extending Billy’s diminutive blue form towards him; Sam felt a doorway behind him and retreated into its shelter.

‘What am I going to do, move in with you? Sleep in your bed so he doesn’t change back at night?

‘You could…’ began Goody optimistically, but Sam mustered his severest tone.

‘Neither of us wants you to finish that sentence. Besides, what about Josh and Ale? And Jack? Bedroom would be a mite crowded.

He’d been backing away from the door while he was speaking, but a sudden chill against his calves brought him up short. Brorp! bellowed something behind him, bass and echoing; Sam let out what he later hoped was a manly shriek and leapt for the door again.

‘Goody, see reason,’ he pleaded. ‘You heard him say it, he doesn’t want to keep transforming.’ For a moment there was silence, then he heard Goody’s footsteps retreating down the corridor.

Sam watched as Goody deposited Billy into the vivarium again with trembling hands, then clicked the lid back into place, ‘I’m sorry, Goody, truly I am, but I’m not the solution to this problem.’

Goody rounded on him, wild-eyed. ‘Not the solution? If you can’t fix this, who can?’

‘Just let me-‘ he began, but all at once the look of woe on Goody’s face was replaced by one of resolute determination.

‘I’m going up to the roof,’ he announced

Sam blenched. ‘Now Goody, I know this is all very distressing, but there’s no call for-‘

‘I am going,’ said Goody through gritted teeth, ‘to speak to Red. He knows where she lives.’

‘That’s a much better idea,’ agreed Sam at once, ‘I’m sure if we approach her like reaso-‘

Goody seized him by the shoulders, cutting him off. ‘You have to promise to bring me home again after.’

‘Huh?’ Why was he permanently on the losing side of this conversation?

‘If she won’t turn Billy human again, I can surely annoy her until she turns me into a frog. Swear to me that you’ll put me in the vivarium with him.’

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Goody, this is not….’

‘Swear it!’ Goody struck a melodramatic pose in front of the tank. ‘I love Billy, and I’ll do anything it takes to be with him again. I don’t care if I’m a frog for the rest of my life, as long as-‘

‘What kind of frog will you be, have you considered that?’ interrupted Sam.

‘What?’ asked Goodnight, derailed.

Sam gestured around. ‘Everyone’s different, even I can see that: Billy’s a poison dart frog, you said Jack’s a bullfrog and Ale I’m guessing is a Mexican tree frog.’

‘So?’

‘So if she does agree to frog you, you don’t know what species you’ll be: you might not even be compatible with Billy. We’d have to keep you in separate tanks.’ Goody turned pale, and Sam pressed his advantage. ‘What if she turns you into a bayou bullfrog? You’d probably try to eat him.

‘I would not eat my husband!’ declared Goody, outraged, ‘he’s poisonous,’ but  nevertheless he sagged in defeat.

‘I’ll fix this, I promise.’ Sam squeezed his dejected friend’s shoulder, trying to project a confidence he didn’t feel. ‘I won’t let you down. Just give me a chance to tackle it my way.’

[harumaki03]

Intertwined

Summary: Sometimes she wanted to send him flying away, but that did not stop her from wondering if theirs was destined from the beginning of everything. As if someone had planned each step, each word without saying anything to them.

Note: This story was done for the SouEri/SoRina Week 2017 but it was published in Spanish only, after a lot of work, I could translate it into English and have some small things changed in order to participate in the Shokugeki OTP Week 2018 Day #2 :D.

Prompts: Future/Soulmate.

There was something that, hidden in her romantic heart, she had always asked herself. After all, the things that had happened in her life, in both of them, seemed to have been placed in such a way that they could not be without each other.

A destined love? Soulmates? Her exhaustive research on shoujo mangas, romantic movies and magazines, all of them talked about finding the one with whom you would spend the rest of your life, that companion who from the very first moment your eyes crossed, had made your heart beat in an accelerated way.

She frowned and saw her partner in the kitchen, looking something in the fridge.

Accelerate her heart from the first encounter? Not at all. On the contrary, all that she had wanted at the beginning was for him to disappear from the face of the earth.

How their relationship had progressively improved over the years until the closure of their marriage was still a mystery.

Because yes, there were still times —too many— in which she had wanted to put him in a rocket straight to the moon.

But that did not prevent her from wondering if theirs was destined from the beginning of everything. As if someone had planned each step, each word without saying anything to them.

She gently bit the thumb of her left hand when noticed that a smoking cup was in front of her amethyst eyes.

“Earth to Erina.” Sōma gently waved the cup in front of her, which seemed lost in her thoughts.

“I-I’m sorry.” The blonde took the cup with both hands, avoiding looking directly at him.

Because Erina knew that if she did, he, with that strange power he had of reading her like an open book (which fascinated her and drove her crazy in equal proportions), would definitely know what she was thinking.

“Are you okay?” The redhead took a seat next to her on the couch and settled down to watch her, while resting his elbow on the edge of the back of the couch.

“Y-yes, it’s nothing.” Erina shook her head and took a sip of the chai tea he had brought, savoring the spices in it; Sōma raised one eyebrow, with disbelief.

“Well, what’s hanging around that little head of yours?” Sōma stretched out his other hand and stroked her cheek with his knuckles. Erina closed her eyes, delighted in the subtle caress.

“It’s kind of ridiculous.” Erina sighed, if she told him, she was sure he’d make fun of her until the end of her days.

“That would be something new,” he taunted, making her look at him in a fulminating way. “Hey, the one with ridiculous thoughts and ideas in this relationship is me, right?” And raised his eyebrows, playfully.

Erina snorted. How was it that she had married this man who drove her mad, so buffoon and, in his very own way, so wonderfully strange?

“I have a hot drink in my hands and I could use it against you,” she said, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You wouldn’t dare to.” He feigned fright and leaned back a little. “The doctor’s bill would be pretty expensive for you.”

“It would be expensive for you, I will not give a single yen for you to be healed,” she replied, following the jokingly flow.

“Wow, what a cruel wife I’ve got.” Sōma wrinkled his face in feigned anguish, as he brought his hand to his heart and Erina could not help but laugh at his face.

“Take, a peace offering not to pour it on you.” Still laughing softly, she extended the cup towards him.

“You have thrown something on it while I wasn’t looking?” He questioned, and she tapped him lightly on the arm he had leaning against the back of the couch.

“I-idiot” she shook her head, “with what chance? You’ve been watching all the time,” and Sōma opened his eyes, astonished, and formed a perfect “o” as he looked at the tea and then at her.

“So if I stop looking, you’d really throw something on it,” he said incredulously, “and here I was thinking that after all this time you have finally accepted me.” He pouted and Erina could only laugh all over the theater her favorite redhead was playing.

“Just take a sip and give me back the cup.” Erina held her cheeks, feeling then hot from all she had laughed at.

Sōma looked at her sweetly. Seriously, that woman had him fascinated. He loved her when she was acting all mighty as much as seeing her undone with laughter and joy that made her amethyst eyes shine with happiness.

He saw Erina brush her fingers down her cheeks, feeling the warmth of them, the brightness of her eyes, the smile that still danced on her sweet lips.

Sōma had never been the type to think about girls or dating in the past, it was even quite surprising for himself to have noticed that he felt something different for the heiress Nakiri that was nothing like what he felt for the other people around him.

And as he was glad to have noticed and even more, to be reciprocated.

“What are you looking at?” Erina found him giving her that look she knew he reserved only for herself, the one where his manly features softened and his golden eyes seemed to radiate warmth and tenderness.

That look that made her feel a tingling at the tips of her fingers and her stomach be flooded by what looked like the furious flutter of a million butterflies.

“You,” he answered flippantly, shrugging, curling his lips in a casual gesture.

Erina felt her heart rate increase, that idiot.

“Will you accept the peace offering or what?” She stammered, crossing her arms.

And there it was, her tsundere ways emerging.

“Yes, yes” Sōma nodded as he left the cup on the table and came closer to her, “I’ll accept it” and Erina only saw the flash of his white teeth when he smiled briefly before feeling his lips on hers.

Erina closed her eyes slowly, feeling his lips move subtly and then biting gently on her lower lip, making her gasp, one that he took advantage of to sneak in and taste every corner of her warm mouth. Erina felt her pulse beating in her ears and how heat rose all over her body as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Sōma sighed against Erina’s lips and then slid his lips to her cheek, leaving a kiss there, and then leaving another against one of her temples.

“Thank you for the peace offering,” he muttered, his voice hoarse as he smiled, resting his cheek against the blonde’s temple.

“You took the wrong offering, i-idiot.” She was still clinging to him, her cheeks hotter than before.

“Oh, I do not think so,” he said, roguishly, as he separated enough from her to look for her eyes. “Are you going to tell me?” He asked like nothing, while stroking one of Erina’s cheeks with the tips of his fingers, in a loving touch.

“T-tell you what, exactly?” She snapped.

“In what you were thinking when I brought you the tea,” he noticed that she opened her eyes in surprise and then she parted her lips to reply. “I want to know, even if you think it’s ridiculous, yes?” He cut he off before giving the chance for her to reply, while putting that look of abandoned puppy wanting to be taken home.

“Sōma…” She began, her tone tired.

“Come on.” He leaned back, resting his back on the armrest and took her with him, practically making her lie on top of himself. “Are you worried about your restaurants?” He looked at her, his golden eyes reflecting his sincere concern.

“N-no, that’s not it.” She laid her head on Sōma’s chest, feeling how he placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head, making her put a small smile.

“Do not tell me it has anything to do with your father,” he huffed with some suspicion. Always listening to the uneasiness in his tone when he spoke of her father it always surprised her.

She knew first hand that the redhead was not spiteful at all, but if her father was included in the topic, Sōma’s face could be transformed into stone and reflect the purest anger.

“Easy.” She lifted her head to look directly into his eyes. “My father has nothing to do either, at least, not directly,” she shrugged.

“What do you mean?” He played with the tip of the braid in which she wore her blond hair that afternoon.

She knew that he would not let the subject pass, especially if he imagined that her father was involved.

Why she couldn’t be less transparent to this man? She questioned herself while inhaling deeply.

“I was wondering if” she heard him make an affirmative sound with his throat, awaiting for her to continue, “if everything we lived was already destined to be, including… W-well, this result,” she concluded quickly, hiding her face in Sōma’s chest.

Erina felt him release the air slowly, as a sign of relief and relaxation.

“And you came to some conclusion?” His other hand drew circles on her back, on the fabric of the white turtleneck coat she wore.

“Not yet,” she murmured, bitting her lower lip before asking, “what do you think?”

She heard him release a soft hmm thinking of an answer. Erina could feel (and hear) the heartbeat of Sōma underneath herself, in a regular rhythm and that always managed to calm her down.

“I think our paths were meant to interbreed in some way or another.” Erina opened her eyes in surprise and lifted her face to look at him. “Even if I had not attended Tootsuki, I have the feeling that we would have met as well.”

“What makes you believe that?” She caressed Sōma’s chin with her forefinger. She felt him shrug under her.

“You knew dad since you were little, he and your grandfather have always seen each other, I suppose it would have been a matter of time when one of those visits pops would drag me with him just for the pleasure of defeating me in front of your grandfather,” he caressed one her cheeks with his thumb, “or some situation like that.”

“So, do you think our destinies were hopelessly intertwined?” She saw him nod.

“As those stories of the famous red thread of destiny.” He noticed how her eyes opened up more, if that was possible. “I never believed or paid attention to those things” he smiled sweetly, “but with everything that we have gone through…” And he didn’t finished that sentence.

But it was not necessary for him to do it, because she knew what he meant.

“So you have a romantic side too,” Erina murmured, in feigned astonishment.

“Oh, yes, you have no idea,” and then he placed that small, confident smile characteristic of his person. “Was that what got you so worked up before? I thought it was, I dunno, that the end of your favorite manga was late or that you did not know whether to add marmalade to the coffee instead of sugar.

Erina rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Marmalade to the coffee? For God’s sake,” when Erina saw that he was going to add something, she took that as a sign of silencing him with her lips.

Sōma had decided to let her do and not add more to what she thought about their paths crossing. But he was sure that the wheels of destiny had begun to turn from the moment he went to apply for the transfer exam.

He thought it was on that day that the bonds of their destinies were intertwined and since then, it had kept them together until today, and the days to come.

But that would be something that —maybe— he would told her later.

Shokugeki OTP Week 2018.

Day #2: Future/Soulmate.

February 12th, 2018.

[marthajefferson]

+ au ASOIAF fic + lyanna stark / arthur dayne + pg + 1794 words +

for this prompt x : lyanna doubt arthur's riding skills and wants to help him*

*setting in the Essos AU where everybody survived and lives now away from Westeros’ mess (and yes: jon is named jon is every universe, this is law!). as you will see, i took a few ‘liberties’ with the prompt. sorry :P ---AO3 LINK

-

“I am better than you.”

There was no need of being precise for him. Lyanna was a better person than he was in every way, so he simply nodded at her statement. “You are.”

“A better rider I mean.” The young woman wanted to be precise anyway.

Then--a scream, and they both looked hastily at the ocean. A laugh, they realized, as Jon was playing with the sand, making castles and running around, splashing water on his ephemeral buildings when tired of being a ‘lord'. And any panic vanished. Arthur and Lyanna watched him from afar, leaned back against a rock warmed by the sun. 

They spent the day on a deserted beach on the Orange Coast, a few miles from Volantis. The sound of the waves, the smell of salty sea air, the colour of the water… The beauty of this continent was the easiest part of their exile to accept.

“Hmmm I am… not certain about that my Lady.”

She gave up on trying to convince him to use her name after two years and many demands, but she would definitely fight to defend her indisputable talents. However, there was no irreverence in Arthur’s words, more a teasing music she had learned to recognize and to play with. She looked up at the man sitting by her side: white linen shirt out of grey breeches, purple eyes carefully watching the waves, dark stubble and hair, a faint smile gracing dignified features… The sun seemed to love him, for his skin was born to profit and benefit under it. “I saw many tourneys, many exceptional riders. I am pretty good myself,” he eventually breathed, pulling her out of her contemplation.

“Certainly. But, when it comes to just you and I,” she bumped her shoulder against his broad one, “I am better than you.“

Though still focused on the ocean and Jon playing, he shrugged, feigning disinterest. And Lyanna smiled. They’d been playing this game for a while now, a whole year of teasing and flirting and general suggestiveness -mostly on her part. Arthur’s distance excited her, for he seemed to be holding back, giving in to his instinct inch by inch. She wanted to draw it out, know it in its fullness. She wanted to be wanted by this man.

Her slender hand reached down to take his in the sand. “I could teach you,” she suggested, “to mount properly.”

“I’m too old my Lady.” Too old to learn. Too old to change. Too old for you.

“You are not, Arthur,” she answered right away, the weight of her chin resting now on his shoulder. “Look, I know that we own just one mare but we can try to improve your style anyway.”

Arthur’s face turned towards hers and Lyanna saw the minuscule tightening in his strong jaw. “And how?” he asked, amused eyes searching hers.

“Well, you’ve got to learn the theory first in order to know what you’re doing, right?” There was a tone in her voice he knew too well. “Let me show you.”

His purple eyes widened when she shifted her stance, her petite form climbing onto his lap to straddle his hips. The way she had executed the maneuver so perfectly left Arthur stunned for a moment.

“My Lady?” he breathed, the words caught in his throat.

She raised her forefinger at him. “First lesson. You need to learn how to sit properly on your saddle and to find your balance.” Lifting one hand to rest on his pectorals for stability, she moved on top of him, seeking for the most secure position. A simple roll from her hips, quickly followed by a frown from him. “Your legs must hold on tight. This way… the stallion knows who is truly in charge.”

“My Lady, yo–”

“Lyanna,” she cut across him. Her hands rested on his chest, feeling his rib cage expand as her knight inhaled deeply. “Second lesson: the reins.” Light fingers traveled up to the wisps of his black strands and her hands fisted in tousled hair. “The grip has to be strong and solid, and yet… you have to give some slack. If not, the stallion will rebel.”

Arthur was at a loss for words at her boldness, such was the power of that small woman. Fingers twitched into the sand, he kept his arms by his side and his wide and unblinking eyes on her. Briefly, he thanked the fact that Lyanna adopted the less conformist dress-code of their new land: a pair of man’s trousers, under a light tunic ornamented with embroideries she made herself ; if she had simply worn a gown, she would have certainly felt hi–- “I witnessed people using whips,” Lyanna crooned, unable to hold back a wicked smile, “but I don’t like this at all. A shame, truly, to hurt such a magnificent and obedient animal, isn’t it?”

Was she really expecting an answer from him?

“Third lesson: the commands and the tone used.” At this point, the whole breathing thing was forgotten by Arthur, and he opened eyes he hadn’t even realized he’d shut when she spoke. “Intonations are more important than orders, since a stallion is a very instinctive animal,” she purred, “You shout orders. You do not whisper them.” Lyanna’s fingers tightened more in his dark locks and she noticed only now that both his hands had moved from their previous places on the sand to now being still, in the air, inches above her legs straddling his waist. Afraid of touching her. “If I whisper my commands, if I whisper orders like... faster–” her hands slowly drifted down his scalp to rest on his tense shoulders, “–higher–” to run gently up and down his arms, “–slower–” to eventually wrap around his wrists, “–would the stallion obey?”

This drew another sigh from him and the sound made her pause: the normal soft purple of Arthur’s eyes was now only a thin ring around dark pools of repressed yearning and a heat swelled, radiated from his entire body. The sight made her bit her bottom lip and she rolled her hips once more, wriggling against his lower belly. Goose bumps rose over the nape of his neck. “My Lad–”

“Lyanna,” she corrected him again. Please, say my name. “Fourth lesson: the pace.” Her fingers were still curled around his wrists, but they never pushed his hovering hands down on her. Please, touch me. She leaned forward. “You and your stallion have to move together. In harmony. As one… In perfect… rhythm.” Each of her words punctuated an imperceptible rub against his clothed crotch.

A low groan. His gaze drifted from her eyes, to her hair, her nose, her lips, until he looked her in the eyes again. Abandon. His lips parted. “…Lyanna–”

She almost gasped at the word.

The last person she had heard whispering her name was Rhaegar in a promise he hadn’t kept. A name chosen by her parents, used by her brothers, honored by the North, forgotten in Essos. The six letters vanished from her life in their exile for safety, Jon calling her ‘mother’, and Arthur calling her  ‘my Lady’. But now, hearing it after years, in someone else’s mouth, in her knight’s mouth with such reverence and awe… it felt real. And clean again. She was Lyanna.

Her tongue darted out to moisten her chapped lips. “Say it again.”

His hands finally landed on her thighs. “Lyanna,” he murmured.

A deep, perhaps irrational part of her wanted him to say it again, and again, and again, to compensate for years of oblivion. She put steady hands where his elbows bent and could only breathe in the clean scent of him along with the salty smell of the shore. Again. “Please…”

The scream was higher this time.

It snapped them out of their trance, and they both instantaneously focused their attention on the dark haired boy at the water’s edge. A laugh, a high and enthusiastic cry, and the boy destroyed another sand-castle. Lyanna sighed out of relief and heard a identical breath from the man beneath her. Her Jon didn’t seem to like castles or being a Lord.

When she turned back to Arthur, his hands were gone from her legs but rested on her waist, yet she knew the moment was gone now. Quickly but gently, he pulled her off him as if she weighed no more than a single snowflake, to put her back to her initial position by his side. She tried to protest but Arthur was already on his feet, looking down at her. “I need to–”, he paused and she knew he was searching for the right way to finish the sentence, “I need to go for a swim.”

Lyanna’s eyebrows raised. “A swim?”

“This is a beach.”

His plain statement should have induced a quick and caustic reply from her, but her mind didn’t completely recover yet from the thrill of Arthur’s body trapped beneath hers and her name on his tongue.

He moved to face the ocean, his back to her, and promptly pulled his shirt over his head. At the sight of his bare back, she didn’t divert her eyes. On previous occasions she had spotted his strong body through veils and curtains or interstices, but had hastily repressed the memory or the desire to study it longer. Now, leaning back on her arms, fingers in the sand, Lyanna observed him in all his tanned and muscled glory. “You need a cold bath, don’t you?” she smiled.

That she was able to make a joke of what just happened made a part of Arthur that was tense relax completely. He looked at her over his shoulder. “Can you look after my shirt please? Oh, and after your son as well… occasionally.”

She scooped up a fist full of sand and threw it at him, but the light earth-dust never reached its target. “Hey! I am an exemplary mother.”

With a sudden seriousness she was familiar with, he answered. “You are, my Lady.“

My Lady, again. Lyanna let out a sigh of annoyance but the vision of her bare-chested knight walking toward the sea in simple breeches made her mood change.

When he reached Jon’s level, he gently ruffled the boy’s hair, which incited a new laugh from her son and made Lyanna smile even more. It was a simple action, almost unnoticeable, but one swelling her heart with a warm lump of joy.

Arthur dived into the blue ocean, Jon built another castle, and Lyanna dug her feet into the warm sand.

In that moment, ‘exile’ didn’t seem as frightening as it had sounded almost 4 years ago.

- -

AO3 LINK

for @my-hypes

-

+ a moodboard to illustrate that lazy day at the beach

[escapingtheconstrictingboxes]

"You won't make it the night" for Nessian! 😊

First of all, thank you so much for the prompt! I loved it! I’m working through these really slowly but I really hope the lengths are making up for it. It is a 4k fic so maybe it helps? I really liked this prompt and my mind went kinda wild with it. I read a few prompts from other people and I’m over here like, are they supposed to be scarier? Because mine aren’t. I might have done this wrong. *shrugs* Oh well. My bad.

“ You won’t make it the night,” Mor said, sipping her wine but her eyes remained on him. If it weren’t for his Fae hearing, he wouldn’t have been able to hear anything over the music at Rita’s. The rest of the Circle all rose an eyebrow at Mor and then at Cassian. Cassian only returned a lazy smile at the challenge in her eyes and looped an arm around his mate.

He ignored the questioning look Nesta was sending him and said, “ Please. I could go in there at dusk and come out at dawn completely fine. Hell, both Nesta and I could do it.” He knew his mate was simmering with anger. He could tell as much through the bond but Mor had challenged him one too many times.

“ Really? Then you wouldn’t have any problem going in those forests tomorrow? Both of you?” She asked slyly, a wicked look in her eyes as those red lips went to sip her drink once more.

Cassian didn’t even look at Nesta as he said, “ Of course not. No reason to say no.” Then, down the bond, Please say yes, Nes. Mor is going to laugh at me otherwise.

A moment passed that caused Cassian’s confidence to waver and Mor to look at Nesta with a raised eyebrow. “ Sure. I’ll go,” was the flippant answer from his mate. Cassian grinned in victory and didn’t notice how Nesta’s mental shield came up and had officially blocked him out.

Now here Nesta was, walking deeper into the forest because of that stupid dare Cassian had agreed to. This forest was renowned for scaring away people because of what they had heard and seen. Of the ancient beasts that prowled around. Of course her mate was childish enough to accept the stupid challenge and then decided to drag Nesta into it too. Only her mate. She was walking ahead of Cassian by a few feet and knew her mate was still probing her mental shield though the bond. No, this time, he could figure it out for himself.

Their relationship was so new. They were barely a year into their relationship and Cassian was parading around, declaring Nesta as his mate. Sure, he’d been aware of the bond for years and he’d been bursting to tell her and everyone. She understood his excitement but there were times when he didn’t consider her own feelings. When he didn’t talk to her about the decisions he made. She supposed she should have called him out on it a few times ago, but his excitement made her give him another chance. But not this time. Not when they were in one of the most dangerous forests in Prythian.

She’d had her mental shield up since the night before and Cassian hadn’t noticed until they were in bed and he had attempted to talk to her though the bond. She’d plainly ignored him and turned away from him. She had bitten her lip at the confusion in his voice as he said, “ Nes? Talk to me, please?” Still, she didn’t let her resolve break and had only strengthened the shield in response. She wouldn’t let herself be the one to tell him. He should be the one to figure it out.

Over the course of the day, Cassian had made it a point to be out of the house and Nesta had no doubt that it was to let her cool down. This cooling down didn’t happen. When he returned an hour before leaving, she still didn’t talk to him and made sure not to look at him. She knew Cassian was suffering but she couldn’t find it in herself to ease any of it. Not in that moment.

When Mor had appeared to make sure they left properly, she noticed the tension in the room and had asked, “ Are you two sure you want to do this today? There’s other days too.”

“ We’re sure,” Nesta gritted out, her first words in front of Cassian. Mor exchanged a look with her mate but had winnowed them anyway and left after telling them to be safe.

They reached their campsite for the night with no sound of any roars or howls. Nesta was starting to doubt the stories she’d heard about this place. What really was out there? She dropped her pack against a tree and debated helping Cassian set up the tents. In the end, she let him do it alone. He hadn’t asked for help and she wasn’t going to offer it either. Her guilt bean gnawing at her and she let out a small sigh before going to her own pack to get their food out.

When Cassian was done, he turned around to see her sitting on a log. No words passed between them but Nesta could feel his presence around her shield, lingering. As if he was waiting for when she would finally open up to him. She wordlessly handed him his portion of the food as he sat down beside her. Near enough that she could feel the heat radiating off of him. His wings twitched as if they wanted to extend out to her like they used to do. Before Nesta started ignoring him. She quickly finished off her portion and then entered her tent. Not to avoid Cassian. Of course not.

She got out a separate sleeping roll that she had packed for herself and ignored the large one Cassian had laid out for the both of them. She turned away to face the wall of the tent and closed her eyes, trying to reach out to the darkness of sleep before her mate could come in the tent. Unfortunately, Nesta heard the flap of the tent moving and then felt the presence of Cassian inside.

“ Oh, come on, Nes,” he said as she felt his eyes on her sleeping form. “ You can’t be this mad at me.” Well, guess what, she was. She felt him taking off his leathers then felt him approach her from behind. Quickly, he stopped and she heard him growl at the barrier of hardened air she had put up. “ Let me in, Nes.” Please, he echoed through the bond.

He got onto his knees and she knew he was trying to push against the barrier. She could feel the power building up inside of Cassian as he prepared to fight back with his own power. But he didn’t. As soon as it had grown, it faded away just as fast. Good.

“ What did I do wrong, Nes?” He asked, his voice nearly sounding like a whine. I miss you, he said through the bond.

Just like that, her self control broke and she sat up and snarled at him. “ What you did wrong? You’re asking me?” Nesta growled at him, her eyes revealing her sparks of wildfire. Cassian flinched and stared at her in confusion. She opened up her shields for a moment and sent out a wave of her rage. Just to let him know how mad she was. “ I didn’t think you did that anymore.”

“ What?” Cassian asked, pain so clear in his eyes and voice.

“ You’re such an oaf!” she yelled at him. She then threw the pillow he’d so lovingly brought along for her at him. To see the shock written on his face as he caught the pillow, tears pricked her eyes and she knew her tears were close to falling as she said in a quieter voice, “ You don’t listen to me. You don’t even ask me things and you don’t care about my feelings.” With that, her tears rolled down slowly. As she looked back down at her lap, the barrier of air disappeared.

Nesta didn’t have it in herself to push Cassian away as he approached her. She let him scoop her up and put her on his lap so that she was straddling him. She buried her head into his chest as his arms came around her and his wings cocooned her.

“ Deep breaths, Nes,” he murmured into her ear as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. Nesta followed his instructions and slowly, her sobs ceased but she didn’t look at him. They stayed silent for a few minutes, listening to their surroundings. “ It’s been building up for a while, hasn’t it?” He asked softly then as he ran a hand through her hair.

“ Yes,” she said quietly, her voice muffled as she didn’t pull back to look at him.

“ I didn’t ask for your opinion on the dare, did I?” He then mused in a far away manner. Nesta didn’t need to answer this one. She doubted he’d been asking for one. Then, he pulled back from her and sorrowful hazel eyes met hers. He held her face in her hands gently and kissed her forehead. “ I’m sorry.” I’m an idiot, he said through the bond. He kissed her temples. “ I’m sorry.” Please forgive me. He kissed her nose. “ I’m sorry.” Yell at me some more if you want. Then, their foreheads touched and he squeezed his eyes shut as their breaths mingled. I deserve it.

“ Why? Why don’t you talk to me? We’re mates, Cass. But if you can’t trust me enough…” her voice wobbled again. She didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t want to hear Cassian’s answer. Was she so untrustable?

“ No, no, no,” he said hurriedly and his eyes snapped open. He must have caught the gist of her thoughts through the bond. “ Cauldron, no, Nes. I trust you. Completely.”

“ Then why not?” She asked, tears once again welling up in her eyes. Cauldron, she hadn’t cried this much in years. Then again, Cassian was the only one she’d allow to see her like this.

His wings drooped and they rested on the floor as he adjusted them both so that he could look at her properly. Nesta could see him scrambling for words. Could see the pained frustration when he opened his mouth and nothing came out.

“ I…when…when I went to those camps, I had to carve out my own destiny because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have had one. I met Rhys and Az and Mor and we became close but our titles, our duties made us…isolated, I guess. We had to make decisions that affected the whole of the Court. Alone. Neither of us could ever understand what the other one of us had to go through for every decision. What we had to go through every day. I was always alone in that sense.” He paused there and Nesta saw the way his chest shook as he took a deep shuddering breath. “ And then I met you,” he whispered with such joy that it made her heart sing, “ You were so…so, perfect, for the lack of a better word. I felt that bond between us and you don’t know how happy I was, Nes. That we were meant to be. That fate hadn’t ignored me after all,” Her chest tightened with a sorrow so powerful, her breath caught, “ You turned me down so many times, I almost lost hope,” he murmured with a slight laugh, “ Then, you finally said yes and we became mates and-and, I’m biggest idiot in all of Prythian. I’m so used to not having anyone by my side. So used to not having to consult my decisions with others that I forgot that I have the most cunning and beautiful woman right here with me…I was always supposed to have that self-confidence inside of me. The one that made it look like I knew what I was doing,” A pause and another deep breath. I didn’t know at all, he then whispered, “ I got so used to having having that arrogance inside of me, it just…it just spread to every part of my life. I know what I did was wrong, Nes. Please forgive me. ” I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he echoed though the bond and Nesta was beginning to understand.

“ You’re not alone. Not anymore,” she said in a gentleness that was only reserved for him. She reached up to cup his hands and brushed a thumb across his unshaven jaw, “ if I’m going to be opening up more. You need to do it too.”

“ I know,” Cassian murmured as he leaned into her touch.

“ I love you, Cass,” she said, their gaze only filled with that unbreakable intensity that been there from the start, “ You hold a piece of my heart now.” Please don’t break it, she said down the bond. Cassian’s presence seemed to grow and envelop her in a warm embrace.

“ And you hold a piece of mine,” he returned. I won’t. I love you too much for that, he replied. Nesta grinned slightly as she brought his head down to kiss him softly. At the same time, both of them seemed to clash through their bond as if some unknown barrier had been broken. A barrier she had created, Nesta realised.

“ Then,” she said as she pulled back, “ I forgive you.”

Cassian grinned so wide and freely, Nesta had to grin back with the same wild spark that was in his eyes. “ Thank you,” he breathed. He lowered his head to kiss her once again but a roar went off in the distance. One that shook the tent that surrounded them. Nesta scrambled off him, ready to fight whatever it was.

Then, the thud of legs. So powerful, even the ground shook slightly. Cauldron. Where had they come? Cassian swore filthily and creatively under his breath, something that would normally have Nesta smacking him in the arm but given the circumstances, she would have joined him had she not been absolutely terrified. At the same time, they cast their power out, trying to figure what exactly it was

This time, Nesta swore at a faster rate than Cassian. It wasn’t approaching, it was already here.

What is that, they both hissed at each other at the same time. It was a long serpentine creature with wings. It’s body so long, it had already coiled around the camp three times. The wings seemed to settle almost peacefully and Nesta heard the sound of claws raking against the ground as they rested. A lot of them. It’s head rested on it’s body and Nesta knew it was looking at them both. She already knew it could somehow see them through the tent.

“ Come out,” it hissed at them, truly sounding like a snake. Its voice only spoke of the centuries it had lived and the rage that was straining under its skin.

Cassian was trembling beside her, truly trembling. She had never seen Cassian this terrified. Hell, she’d never even felt this terrified. Quickly, she spun to face Cassian and pulled him down for a kiss. A kiss that held all their passion. All their tightly tucked secrets. All their untold dreams and promises.

We aren’t going to die, you hear me?, she said to Cassian through the bond after they pulled back.

That’s awfully optimistic of you, Cassian returned in a dazed manner. Whether from the kiss or the fear, Nesta wasn’t sure.

That new world you promised me in the War? We can start it now. We escape this and I’ll let you build the whole damned thing, she responded. Please, please, please, let this work.

And it seemed to. Cassian grinned despite their surroundings and said, After asking for your opinion, of course.

“ I don’t have all day, youngbloods,” it hissed again and both of them shivered at the sound. That sound that promised so much pain and darkness at the flick of a tail.

Shaking, they stood, trembling, they stopped at the flaps of their tent and looked at each other. They linked their hands and undecipherable emotions passed between them. Together. They’d go through this together and live.

They took a synchronised step outside of their tent and both of them sucked in a breath. Holy….If Nesta knew any gods, she’d be praying to them in that instant. It was a large dark as night serpentine creature curled around their camp. Thrice. The light seemed to hover around the pitch black scales as if in curiosity but then would only get sucked in. Nesta could see a pair of enormous wings draped over the scales so neatly out of the corner of her eye. Large talons stuck out from many points and if Nesta had turned ever so slightly, she would have seen the remnants of it’s previous meal still stuck on. It was the head that captured their attention. It had the head of a dragon and one that you would hear in stories in camp fires. In stories that would even horrify the teller. The head was tilted in the way a cat might when something strikes its curiosity. Its snout snorted out puffs of smoke and Nesta wondered if it was deciding in which manner to kill them. The eyes were a molten golden. It seemed to swirl around the way golden paint might but it was electrified of something else. Something Other. Its pupils were mere slits that resembled ones of a snake’s. Streaks of an unnamed colour flashed in the iris for brief moments, making her wonder if it was just a trick of the mind.

Then, its head rose almost above the trees and Nesta knew she was trembling. Knew Cassian was doing the same thing. They had good reason to do so. This creature was the one that haunted the ones that lived to tell the tale. But they wouldn’t run away. Even if all her instincts were telling her to bolt in the opposite direction. Those eyes narrowed at them both as the head slowly lowered and came to hover just a few feet above the couple. Its nostrils flared and Nesta reached inside for her power, ready to create a shield if it was going to set them on fire. She kept her eyes on his neck, not quite wanting to meet his gaze.

Instead, it said in an anger that shook through her bones, “ You smell like him. What have you done to him?” Nesta froze, unsure of what to say. Who was it talking about? “ His scent is decades old but yours…” It hissed down at Nesta. “ Yours is new. What have you done?”

She wracked her brain for who she could have possibly visited recently. How new was new? “ Who?” Was what she ended up asking.

“ My brother,” it growled at her and smoke curled out of it’s mouth, caressing her skin in a way that promised her of ashes and death.

Decades?, Cassian asked through the bond before Nesta could feel shock washing over him like a wave, Bryaxis. You went just a month ago.

“ Bryaxis? Is that your…brother?” She asked almost hesitantly. If she was wrong…she didn’t let herself think of the consequences.

“ If that is the name he has made for himself, then yes,” it hissed, anger still somehow roaring through his tone. “ Do not anger me, child. What have you done to him?”

“ I have done nothing,” she replied, her voice shaking slightly.

“ Yes, you have, girl,” it hissed again and more smoke curled out but this time, the way it brushed her cheeks was anything but soft. “ I do not tolerate lies from the Fae. Or the Made.”

“ I’m telling the truth,” she said in a more stable voice, her own anger rising. “ I visited him and gave him some company just like he had requested.” Over the past few years, Nesta chose to go down there, bonding a sort of acquaintance with the creature. She’d been curious at the start but later on, as Bryaxis began talking more, she began sharing her own things. Now, she wouldn’t be against the idea of calling him an acquaintance of sorts.

“ He had requested for company?” The beast asked in a tone of disbelief. There was some sort of amusement underlying its tone. Whether it was targeted towards her or Bryaxis, she wasn’t sure.

“ A couple decades ago, there was a War with Prythian going against Hybern-”

“ Yes, yes. I’m aware of your little battles,” it said in a more impatient tone, the anger seemed to have dimmed down.

Little battles? What kind of war had this creature seen? “ My sister made a bargain with your…brother. Well, two. He asked for company the first time and then a window. He resides in the Night Court’s library in a deep pit. He wished to see the moon and stars. The skylight was built and finished a decade ago,” she replied, her gaze starting to rise further and then stopped right where his head met his…neck? She felt Cassian quaking beside her and she squeezed his hand as a promise. They would get out of here. Alive. He squeezed back and if Nesta had been looking at him, Cassian’s gaze was only studying the body, trying to look at the wings and claws. Perhaps more out of fear or out of strategizing.

“ So you went to visit my brother then. Who sent you down there?” It asked her, the order lacing his voice clearly.

“ Sent me? No one did. It was my own choice,” she replied, her head tilting in confusion.

“ Look at me,” it commanded her in its ancient voice. Her grip on Cassian’s hand tightened as she slowly raised her head and met the pinning golden eyes with her hesitating clash of blue and grey. Its head lowered even further and it studied her for a long moment. Then, “ You are telling the truth, it seems.”

Both Nesta and Cassian released a sigh of relief at the same time. “ Thank you,” they murmured in unison.

“ Is he truly content in that suffocating building of yours?” The creature asked in true curiosity but Nesta could have sworn the creature had a hint of fear in him.

“ He is happy,” Nesta admitted. “ He does have the longing to roam the world but…he is content with what he has.”

“ All of us do,” the beast returned and then its head came down to the ground in front of them as if tired. Its head was big enough that Nesta still had to look up to meet its eyes.

“ Have you been searching for him?” She asked, her mind beginning to whir and put pieces in place.

“ Yes, youngblood,” it said in quiet voice, its eyes closing as if in defeat. “ I have been searching for a long time. Ever since I lost him.”

“ I will tell him of you when I return home,” she said, pity entering for this creature. She remembered searching for Feyre so many years ago when she went missing. She knew what that kind of panic and despair felt like.

“ You will not be returning, child,” it said, its power simmering in the very land beneath them. Nesta’s heart sank and so did Cassian’s. “ You will be my next meal. I have captured you now.”

Through the bond, their fear crashed together in waves like a roaring sea. After a long moment of her mind whirring through all her options, Nesta said in a trembling voice, “ I’d like to make a bargain with you.”

The creature huffed a laugh and opened its eyes slowly, the golden only promising cruelty. “ You have nothing to offer me, youngblood.”

“ We have your brother,” she said and then it growled at her, its anger awakening again.

“ What are you saying, girl?” it asked and its eyes narrowed at her.

“ I’m saying that it’s possible for you to meet your brother if you let us go. Both of us,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady.

“ What bargain would like to make, youngblood?” It asked its head coming closer.

“ My mate and I will be allowed to leave without any harm done to us and we will return to you and let you meet your brother on our terms,” she said slowly and carefully.

“ But you will not free him?” It asked questioningly.

“ That would involve another bargain with Bryaxis. Even then, guaranteeing the protection of my people would be difficult…I’m not sure if that’s for the best,” she replied, bowing her head slightly.

“ But I will get to keep visiting him. For as however many times I like?” It asked then.

“ That…is a conversation for another time,” she said again, her heart racing faster than ever before.

“ You will return?” It asked in a doubtful tone, its head then rising from the ground but its gaze stayed on her.

“ Everything I said in my bargain is all I will agree to,” she said firmly, her own gaze turning more into one of steel.

It tilted its head as if to consider her words and finally, it nodded. “ Alright, youngblood. I will agree to your bargain.”

“ Thank you,” they murmured again. Slowly, the creature rose and Nesta stared in terrified awe he took off with single swift movement of its wings and heard the boom in the air. Cassian kept on watching the the creature as if in a stuck trance as it flew away and Nesta studied her right upper arm as a new tattoo slowly formed. It was the creature but in ink and much less frightening. Its body coiled around her arm thrice just like it had around the camp earlier. On the outer side of her arm, its head was facing upwards as if in mid-roar.

Then, Cassian reached out to her, wrapping himself around her through the bond and then physically put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Nesta lazily put her arms around his neck as if they hadn’t just met Bryaxis’ brother.

Kind of ironic, isn’t it? You didn’t consult your decision with me, he accused playfully. Nest looked up to meet his dancing eyes and kissed his jaw once.

You had a better idea? she asked, raising an eyebrow. She relaxed at the sound Cassian’s laughter echoing down the bond, We can go home and talk to the whole family. This is a decision we all have to make together.

Cassian echoed his agreement before saying, Do you want to leave now or wait till the morning?

A howl went off into the distance and Nesta pulled her mate closer, Leave now. I don’t care about my dignity right now.

The next morning, Nesta woke up with Cassian’s arms and wings embracing her softly and she couldn’t help but grin at the smile that greeted her as she behind at him. They’d flown the entire night back to their own townhouse, not willing to stop anywhere. After sharing a shower, they’d fallen into bed, holding each other close as if to protect the other even in their sleep.

“ Good morning, sweetheart,” he murmured in that half-awake bliss. Then, his attention shifted to the tattoo on her arm. “ Even if that thing did come out of bad circumstances, it’s beautiful.” Nesta adjusted herself to look at the ink in her skin and lightly stroked a finger over the wings.

“ It is,” she whispered back.

“ I can’t wait to see Mor’s face,” Cassian said excitedly and Nesta smiled slightly. “ That is, if you want to tell them today. We can do it another time too.”

Nesta turned around to face him and kissed him softly before saying, “ No, I want to do it too.” Cassian grinned back at her and kissed her once again before folding in his wings, readying to get out of the bed.

After their morning meal, Mor and Rhys winnowed into the room with smug grins on their faces. Both Nesta and Cassian rolled their eyes at them before raising an eyebrow. Of course. It was just like them to enter in like that. The couple were sitting on their couch, a blanket over them both so that it was covering the tattoo. It’ll be a surprise, had been Cassian’s words.

“ Az’s spies told him that you two returned a few hours before dawn. That means you lost,” Mor said in victory and grinned wide for them.

They both shrugged and then Cassian said, “ We weren’t quite welcome in there.”

“ What did you see in there?” Mor asked then, sitting on a bar stool, her eyes narrowing on them.

“ Wasn’t Bryaxis, was it?” Rhys asked and the cousins snickered with no guilt whatsoever.

Nesta rose her eyebrow in an unimpressed manner and then moved the blanket off of her, standing up n one smooth movement. She inwardly smiled at their shocked faces at her new tattoo and then she said, “ No, but we met his brother. We made a bargain so that Bryaxis and his brother will have to meet someday.” Cassian began laughing at their gaping faces and Nesta walked passed them, shutting their mouths on her way. The bargain might have almost been worth it after seeing those faces.

I am so glad I get to build our new world with you, Cassian said as he pushed past the two and followed Nesta.

I am too, she replied, echoing the love that flowed through the bond.