#also- why is silver so much harder to render than gold is???

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

How many letters in "Claw Noir"? THAT'S RIGHT cause he ATE these outfits, brother

#my phone couldn't handle this drawing it almost fully broke like three times #mostly during the line art stage 😭 #his hair- i could cry dude #also- why is silver so much harder to render than gold is??? #i love his design so much #cole's art #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanart #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #ml chat noir #claw noir #ml claw noir #miraculous world #shadybug and claw noir #adrien agreste #ml paris special #ml paris

[syllvane]

she’s a rainbow- natasha romanoff x reader

a/n: this was loosely requested by anon, inspired by a song of the same name

The first time you see her, she is dressed in blue.

You’re at one of Tony’s parties- and you don’t want to be there, you’d rather be anywhere else in the world in fact, but you work for Tony and more than that, you’re worried for him.

Though you both had worked closely on things regarding the Iron Man suit, he had been pulling away from you without any explanation as to why. The closest that you had gotten to an explanation was whenever he got drunk and started mumbling about a new energy source or something.

You stood in the corner of the party, nursing a drink as the lights flashed and the music played loudly, so loud that you could barely hear yourself think over the music, much less have a conversation.

You made your way outside of the house and even there, a small part of the party seemed to have spilled out of the house and you weren’t able to find the peace and quiet that you were looking for.

Someone touched your arm gently and you spun around, not knowing who to expect, though it certainly wasn’t her.

She had long, dark red hair and she was wearing a beautiful midnight blue dress to match, her hair done in curls.

You didn’t believe in love at first sight but looking at her, you thought that maybe you had been wrong.

“Oh, I’m so sorry- I thought you were someone else,” She said, smiling sheepishly. “What’s your name?”

You told her your name, momentarily losing your train of thought.

“What about you? What’s your name?”

“Natalie Rushman- I’m Ms. Pott’s personal assistant at Stark Industries,” She smiled, extending her hand out.

You extended your own, taking her hand and shaking it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Natalie- and welcome to Stark Industries.”

Were the two of you technically coworkers? If you dated each other, would you have to tell HR about it?

“So, what do you do? Famous model, actress?” She suggested and you laughed slightly.

“Now you’re just flattering me, I mean if anyone’s the model here, it’s you. I just work with Tony on the Iron Man project and things of that nature.”

Her eyes went wide as if she was more impressed by that than any of the things she mentioned before.

“Just? Don’t downplay how smart you have to be for that, humble isn’t a good look on you.”

“You’re right, I guess… just a force of habit.”

She smiled softly.

“It must be a strange work environment if he’s always this… impulsive.”

You glanced back towards the inside of the house, seeing several models on each of Tony’s arms.

He was clearly drunk.

“He wasn’t… it’s been different these past couple of months. I don’t know, if Tony’s good at one thing besides engineering, it’s bottling up his feelings.”

She nodded intently, hanging onto every word that you were saying.

“I’m sorry. That must be tough for you.”

You sighed.

“It’s harder to see him like this than it is when he ices me out.”

She opened her mouth to speak but before she could, Tony stumbled out of the doors.

“There you are, Natalie- come back in and enjoy the party!” He beckoned before being pulled back inside.

Natalie looked at you apologetically.

“I should… it was nice talking to you though, really,” She said, giving you a small smile before she entered the house once again.

As you would later learn, that was the only honest thing that she told you that entire conversation.

The crowd roared as she entered the home and she did not look back at you once.

The next time you see her, she is dressed in black.

All pretense of meekness was gone and what was left was a woman with the same red curls as before, her midnight blue dress traded in for a black jumpsuit with long sleeves.

She is sitting on Tony’s front porch step and given the way her eyes are following you as you made your way up the drive, you guessed that it was you who she wanted to talk to.

“You lied to me,” You said, almost wincing at how childish your accusation sounded- of course she had lied to you, that was her job.

She was a spy, she didn’t owe you an explanation or an apology.

“I’m sorry,” She said, her words careful. “If it was up to me, I wouldn’t have.”

You don’t believe her.

“Why are you even here, Natalie? I-”

“It’s Natasha,” She corrected and you didn’t say anything for a couple of moments.

You truly knew nothing about her and more than that, you trusted nothing about her. After all, what was stopping her from lying about being named ‘Natasha’ as well?

“As for why I’m doing this… I don’t know. I didn’t want you to think that it was all fake, I guess.”

You crossed your arms.

“So what was real then?”

Another pause.

"I really did like you,” She said softly and even though you desperately wanted to be angry at her, you couldn’t help but melt slightly. “And you are too good for him.”

“We’re not…” You took a step back from her as if she had just slapped you. “Are you just trying to manipulate me into joining SHIELD?”

She blinked, as if the thought had never even crossed her mind.

“What- no! I think you’d be a good fit for SHIELD, but I wasn’t…” She fell silent, studying you once again. “That’s all you think I am now, isn’t it? A spy.”

You shrugged helplessly, tears pricking your eyes.

“You haven’t given me much else to go on.”

“Forget it. Just… go back to someone who completely undervalues the work that you do and just forget that I exist. I’ll do the same for you.”

She stormed off without saying anything else, getting into a black unmarked car and driving off.

When you see her again, her hair is shorter and although you aren’t positive, you think you’re on a plane.

You also have the worst headache of your entire life and vague memories of the past couple of days, all of which seem to be tinted in blue.

“I liked your long hair better,” You mumbled and she rolled her eyes, though a small smile appeared on her face.

“You didn’t take my advice about forgetting me.”

“Can you blame me?” You said before you winced, your head throbbing. “What happened? I remember… a portal opened, I think. And some guy… walked out. The rest is fuzzy.”

“That guy… Loki… he mind-controlled you. A bunch of people, actually.”

“Wait,” You sat up straight, causing a wave of dizziness to rush over you. “Loki, as in Norse mythology Loki? That Loki?”

“Yes.”

You sat there for a second, thinking.

“Hm. That’s interesting.”

She blinked.

“You’re handling this surprisingly well.”

You shrugged slightly.

“I’m a scientist. It wouldn’t do me any good to ignore the evidence that’s been presented to me.”

She didn’t respond, handing you a cup with medicine in it.

“For your head,” She said and you nodded, looking at the pills before taking them with the water that was just off to the side. “I didn’t take my own advice either, you know. I didn’t forget about you.”

You stayed silent for a couple of seconds.

“Why not?”

“I already told you, didn’t I? I really did like you,” She said, not meeting your eyes.

“I liked you too. But I don’t… I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

She thought about this for a minute.

“What are you doing Thursday night?”

“If the world hasn’t ended by then? Probably going back to work.”

“Have dinner with me. I might not even make it out of this alive, but-”

“Yes.”

A small smirk appeared on her face.

“That didn’t take long.”

“Oh shut up,” You said, a small smile on your face. “Don’t you have a city to save?”

She glanced towards the door before looking back at you.

“I suppose I do. I’ll see you on the other side?”

“I hope so,” You said softly and she smiled before walking out of the room you were recovering in.

The next time you see her is on Thursday, outside of the address that she texted you.

You are nearly twenty minutes late because of all the damage that had been done during the Battle of New York, but when you arrive, she is standing there in a pale gold dress, her hair curled and styled like she just walked out of the 1920s.

You are rendered speechless by her beauty and she just looked at you and smirked.

“Something catch your attention?” She asked innocently and you rolled your eyes, though you felt heat rise to your cheeks. She offered you her hand and you took it. “I feel the same way about you, you know. You take my breath away.”

The two of you walked into the restaurant together, hand in hand and as certain as you had once been that there would be no relationship between you and Natasha, you found your own doubts about your relationship with her slowly slipping away.

And they continue to slip away.

Her dress is emerald green when she tells you about her adopted family, about Ohio and about Yelena, and it’s silver like moonlight when she stands up on her tiptoes to kiss you on the doorstep of your apartment.

It’s sky blue when she introduces you to the rest of the Avengers as her girlfriend and it’s a black, oversized hoodie when she first tells you that she loves you, laying next to you on the couch, half-asleep and fighting off a cold.

(You say it back, but she’s already fallen back asleep. You don’t worry though, because you know that you have all the time in the world to say it.)

Her dress is white when the two of you finally get married and her hair is longer, curled like it was the night you first met.

Tony is drunk again and is taking credit for your love story in his toast, but you don’t care, not as long as you’re with her.

You can face anything, you think, as long as you’re with her.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanov x you #natasha romanoff #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #natalie rushman #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu imagines #mcu x reader #mcu x you #mcu x y/n

[iguessilovebakugou]

In Search of Silver Linings, We Discovered Gold ||  Bakugou x Fem!Reader (x Shinsou) ||  Happier pt 3 ||  Series

I really feel like Sleeping At Last’s “Two” resonates with Shinsou in this one.  But also for the Reader towards Bakugou just like...in general.  Also, I would suggest Gang of Youth’s “Achilles, Come Down” as well. And Lauren Aquilina’s “Fools”. 

One day I’m going to make a playlist for this fucking series - and then you bitches will be sorry.  

I’m sorry it took so long to get this part out.  I feel like nothing I would write would live up to what I did 2 years ago now.  So I really hope that people like this one just as much as the others. 

Part One!  Part Two!

Word Count:  7.7K TW:  Smooching, Death Mention

“Hey, you okay?”

It should be so easy to explain to them what you were feeling.  They where there with you.  They went through the same thing you had, right?  You were right there with Ochaco, sat right by her side and watched her tell Mr. Aizawa...you should be able to just...

“Yeah,”  You offered Asui a bright smile.  “Just...tired.  These make up classes are just...they’re really killer, you know?”

The dorm had been quiet by the time the raid team had made their way home from their extra classes. Everyone had already gone to bed, the common area devoid of life by the time you had settled on the couches. And you were happy for it.  Ever since...well, it had been a bit harder to be around everyone.  It was hard to come to terms with the fact that after everything that had happened, happened.  And you were supposed to just...move on from it.  Keep going forward.  No time to process.

You pulled out your phone to check your messages.  You had hoped Shinsou would have at least texted you - but you had been left on read.  You tried not to be upset about it and instead, pretended to go to another app and check your messages there.  You even got comfortable and put an arm behind your head - yep, perfectly relaxed and not at all wanting to break down on the inside.  

Tsu’s big bright eyes stared down at you.  You wondered if she felt the same - if Kirishima, Izuku or Ochaco felt the same.  You wondered if sometimes, during class, they just lifted their heads, looked around at your classmates and felt...so out of place.  The only way you could describe it was like stumbling in the middle of a skit being performed in the middle of a park, and no one seemed to quite realize you weren’t actually an extra.

But you didn’t want to run the risk of looking at her.  If she looked at you, she might realize that you hadn’t come to terms with what happened - with Nighteye, Lemillion, with that poor girl, Eri.  And that wouldn’t do.  That might lead into her asking what was wrong.  And what were you supposed to do then?  Answer her honestly?  Come to terms with your feelings like a rational, level headed adult?

You?  Nah. Never.

“Yeah, you’re right.”  Once you were certain her back was towards you, you risked a glance in her direction.  

Your body ached, your eyes were sore, and your mind felt blank but busy at the same time.  You weren’t sure where to begin with everything, where to start with trying to catch up.  But this had become your norm, and as sad as it was, it felt like your body was accommodating to the drama that had become commonplace in your life.  You watched as she met Ochaco at the base of the steps leading up to the rooms.  She seemed surprised when you didn’t move to join them, turning to give you a concerned glance and a lip pout - for extra measure.  

You smiled, lifting up your phone and giving it a little wave.  “I think I’m just going to hang out down here before heading to bed.”

“Oh,”  She muttered softly.  “Okay, if you’re sure?”

You knew she wasn’t buying the act - whatever it was - in the slightest.  You knew Nighteye’s death hit her hard.  A lot harder than you.  As it should have - you had tried to use your quirk to defend her and Nighteye, only to be overpowered and rendered unconscious when it mattered most so you weren’t technically cognizant when she had made her getaway.  But it must have been terrible, holding a man in your arms as he died.   And yet here you are moping about it.  What gives you the right?

“Yeah, I’m sure.”  Another smile, this time a little wider.  “Got some videos to watch, don’t want to run the risk of waking anyone up.”

You turned, ending the conversation there.  You stared at your phone, sitting on the home screen and not bothering to look back once you heard them make the ascent up the stairs to their respective rooms.  It had been getting harder and harder to sleep these past few days and you couldn’t spend another restless night staring at the same four walls anymore.  Watching the same videos, rereading the same texts, you would go insane.  With an exasperated sigh, you tossed your phone to the side.  Hands found your face, fingers rubbing your eyes while reclining back, letting out a slow, low groan.

The lights in the common room were dim, just enough to find your way in case you stumbled down here in the middle of the night.  It was a small comfort, you figured to yourself, to have this moment alone.  To sit in the quiet and listen to the sounds of your friends around you, of the dorm settling snuggly down for another night’s rest.  And there you were, sitting by yourself in the common room.  Trying to decide if you were still mourning for a man you spoke to maybe a handful of times before you watched him get impaled on a spike or if you were ready to move on from it all.  Your head fell back limply against the edge of the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to push any semblance of thought from your mind.  You just needed this one minute, one second for your entire world to just...stop running away from you.

If I could just get to him in time, maybe I could, I could help.  I could save him and be a hero and...

God, how dramatic could you get.  At least you hadn’t held the man in your arms as he lay dying.

With a sigh, you sat yourself back up and went back to your messages, pulling up the chat with Shinsou.  You hoped he was free.  Maybe even free enough to talk.  The empty feeling finding home in your chest was becoming too much.  You could use him, right now.  Maybe you could convince him to leave and come over.  You could watch a movie and just talk until you passed out.

Like friends did.

And if he was there, maybe it would so much easier to stay asleep. 

Hey.  We just got home.  Hope you’re...

Nope, delete.  Didn’t sound right.  

Hey!  You free right now?  I can’t sleep so

Nope, too eager.  

Shinsou, you loser get your ass over here

Nothing was coming out the way you wanted it to.  Nothing had ever sounded right.  You had so many things you wanted to say and yet never seemed to have the energy for it anymore.  Is this depression?  Do you have depression?  Do people who have depression know they have depression without being diagnosed with depression?  

You bit your lip, chewed on it until it grew sore and red and angry.  You needed your friend.  Your best friend.  Your only friend.  You missed hanging out with him, missed being able to text him weird shit and get a selfie of him looking bored at the camera just cause he knew it would make you laugh.  Cause you knew the weird shit you sent him made him laugh.  You wanted to see his face, to hear his voice.  You wanted it to go back before the dorms, back before whatever extra curricular thing he was doing.  But it wasn’t like he was doing this on purpose!  He was busy and you were just being fucking dramatic and needlessly stupid you didn’t even see Nighteye die but Deku did and he is holding himself together so much better and you would be okay if...if...

Why were you fucking crying now???????

Shinsou - I really miss you and I don’t want to be alone right now but I don’t know what to do I just wish you were here

“Hey.”

Given the recent events in your life, his gruff voice shattering the quiet of your isolation should have been expected.  Nevertheless, it still sent your heart skyrocketing into your throat.  You thought everyone had gone to bed and you could be a miserable wretch on your own time.  You jumped, sending your phone clattering to the ground and sliding under the coffee table.  The giant...granite...coffee table.  “Ah, shit, shit...”  You fell to your knees, trying to make a grab for it.  “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

“I thought I would find you down here.”

Shinsou had hardly heard from you since the night you got back from the raid.  He had seen the news that something had happened.  When you didn’t answer his morning text, he just hoped you were just being your normal self.  When you didn’t show up at lunch, he feared the worst.  He paced his room, hardly ate, did nothing but refresh his news feed to see if your name flashed by as a causality.  He figured no news was good news but waiting to hear from you was the hardest thing he ever had to do.  And the fact you hadn’t told him you were going in the first place and had to find out about it by overhearing one of your classmates mention it?

Ample payback it seemed.  Secrets had become your duo’s new norm - and he hated it. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were told not to say anything to anyone.  I’m sorry, Shinsou.”

Your voice had sounded so off, so different in what little words you spoke.  Silence had never been so poignant until he experienced it from you.  As he laid in bed and stared at the phone on his pillow, his heart broke with each toss and turn he could hear from you.  He sat quietly, for that whole 2 hours as you tried to make sense of what you had just been through that day.  But you never said more than a few words and, even so, those were just a mask to hide the rest of the truth you wanted to keep hidden.  He listened, patiently, as you tried to place it all in order so you could begin to move past it.  

He hoped he had helped - in what little way he could.  In what minute way you had allowed him.  You were closing off and he so desperately wanted to cry out for you.  But he stayed quiet.  

And he felt entirely useless. 

He didn’t know exactly what happened; only what little information he had heard from Mr. Aizawa and even that had been bits and pieces.  Confidential, he said.  Bullshit, Shinsou thought.  If he was going to try to begin to figure out a solution to...whatever it was that plagued you, to lift your spirits, he needed to know exactly what happened.  But, when Shinsou had asked if you had been involved, if you were alright...?

“You’re friends with her, right?  She didn’t really seem to want to talk about it when I asked her after the fact.  But I figure that’s just because I’m her teacher.  Maybe you should be the one to check in on her instead.  She might actually open up to you.”

Open up to him.  

And that was the problem wasn’t it?  Something that always seemed to stand right between the two of you, pushing you in separate directions - opening up to each other.  It was a thought that occurred to him as he watched you spin your spoon around in your soup, but refused to eat.  The two of you had no problems talking, especially you.  You talked a lot, and he...didn’t.  You suited him fine.  More than fine.  

But what is talking if you’re not saying anything?  What was the point of being friends if you couldn’t even rely on each other to keep a secret, to lean on each other when everything seemed so fucking terrible.  Had he done you a disservice, hiding things from you?  Had he given you the impression that you couldn’t come to him for something so small as a crush on...ah, for something really small?  Had you transitioned from “don’t want to bother him with something silly” to “I can’t talk to him anymore period”?

Shinsou had always been the more straightforward one.  Where you seemed to be an endless supply of needless conversation and seemed to always dance around subjects, Shinsou was the one who could give it to you as plainly as possible.  And you knew that.  You knew him better than anyone, could understand him better than anyone.  

So when he didn’t give it to you as honestly, as plainly as he could have, it would stand to reason that you would be sent tumbling.

Shinsou - I really miss you and I don’t want to be alone right now but I don’t know what to do I just wish you were here

The text had come as a surprise.  Shinsou had been trying to sleep, but it was a rare commodity those days.  His mind swirled with thoughts of you.  Of how much he missed just you.  Your laugh, your stupid jokes.  Everything was starting to feel so hollow when he heard that soft ding from across the room.  To say he scrambled towards his desk where the phone lay charging was an understatement.  

I really miss you.

You were screaming for him and he hadn’t heard it.  You were sinking further and further and yet here he was, wondering and waiting for some sort of sign on what to do.  How he could fix it - but later.  He’s not strong enough now.  He’s not ready.  After he’s done with Aizawa.  After he’s a hero.  After after after.  Always cautious, always testing the waters.  

I just wish you were here.

You never waited, never paused, never hesitated.  When Bakugou was kidnapped, you rushed home and came up with a plan of action.  When you wanted to talk to him, you marched from your dorms, almost got into a fist fight, just to talk.  You were reckless in all the best ways.  In all the ways that made him want to scream, to touch you, to praise you, to love...to love you.

“I would be able to sleep if you answered your phone once in a while.”

He gripped his phone and hated that he had to draw one hand up to wipe his eyes.  Hated that his chest ached and hated that you even had to ask him.

“I wish you would have answered me.”

No more.  You would never have to ask him again.

He couldn’t pull his shoes on fast enough.  Before Shinsou could stop, rethink if this was a good idea, he was outside and making his way towards your dorm.  If he couldn’t help you now, when you needed it the most, when you were asking for him to pull you out from the waters...

His heart didn’t have the right to ache for you as much as it did. 

The two of you had done this so many times, Bakugou was surprised that you weren’t in the kitchen when he finally got down stairs.  The moment he got to the ground floor and saw you hunched over on the couch, his body froze.  

He had been hoping to have a bit more time to think of what he wanted to say.

“Is it just me, or has she not been the same since coming back from the raid?”

“No, I noticed it too.”

“Should we ask her about it?”

The frog grew quiet for a moment.  Bakugou had to strain to hear her response from down the hall.  “I think she’ll open up when she’s ready.”  She said softly.  “If we try to push the issue before then, it might just make matters worse.”

“Yeah,”  Uraraka responded, “I guess you’re right.  Still...I’m just worried.”

Worried.  For you.  

He didn’t want to think about why he was down in the commons, so late at night.  He didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that seeing your shaking shoulders, hearing the fast gasps you were making, ripped his very state of being apart.  He watched you, eyes narrowed.

He didn’t like it.  He didn’t like that you were in this state at all.

“Hey.”

He expected you to jump - it was a good thing that you did.  He would drag you out of whatever rut you were in, kicking and screaming if he had to.  

You got to your knees, cursing under your breath and scrambling for whatever you had been holding.  Probably your phone.  Bakugou stepped around the couch, shoving his hands in his pockets.  “Figured I would find you down here.”

You didn’t pay him any attention.  In fact, as you tried to reach under the coffee table, you kept your head turned - enough to where he couldn’t see your face.  You kept cursing, kept trying to reach desperately.  He watched you for a moment, feeling the frustration rise up inside of him.  You were ignoring him.  Like he wasn’t even there.  Like he wasn’t standing in front of you.

“Hey!”

“SHHH!”  You snapped to attention, pressing a finger to your lips.  He tried not to stare for too long.  “Do you want to wake the whole dorm!?”

“You should be in bed.”

Your stare lingered on him, for just a moment.  He refused to break eye contact first, refused to back down from the daggers you were sending his way.  You let out a huff, going back to searching for whatever it was that you had dropped.  “Couldn’t sleep.”

Bullshit.  He could tell.  It was a fact that he didn’t like to pay much attention to: tiny mannerisms that caught onto his attention like a hook.  You generally were so bright, hardly ever short.  Low energy, but not tired?  Sure.

He waited another minute.  “The others just got home.”

The slight pause.  Heh - you were like a book.  So easy to read.  “Oh.”  You said so matter-of-factly.  In another beat, you were back to searching, still focusing your gaze on the far side of the wall.  “Yeah, I guess.”

“So unless you got sent back early, I doubt you’ve even had a chance to try and sleep.”

Your fingers clenched, your fist shaking against the granite top.  Your body pulled up and away, resting in a rigid position.  But you were still refusing to look at him; in fact, to ensure that he wouldn’t be able to see anything,  you put your face in your hand.  Still, you didn’t say a word, didn’t argue with him.  So he continued:  “I’m just saying, if you’re going to lie, at least keep track who you tell what.”

You didn’t respond.  And he wished it didn’t make him as angry as it did.  He wished that he had been able to stop the rage that bubbled in his stomach.  But he couldn’t.  He didn’t want you to hide anything from him.  He wanted you to feel comfortable telling him when something was hurting you.  After he laid it all bare for you a few weeks ago, you couldn’t be bothered to at least confide in him what the hell was going on in your tiny little world?

“...tch.”  Bakugou fingers slid under the edge of the coffee table.  “Grab the other side.”

You paused, turning to stare at him.  His eyes met yours and he saw so clearly how blood shot they were, your cheeks blotchy and burning.  You sniffled once, pushing a strand of hair back into place.  “Uh...wha?”

“Do you want your crap or not!?”

“Oh, yeah, uh...”  You pushed yourself up.  His eyes followed you as you stationed yourself on the other side like instructed.  “On three.  One-”

He didn’t bother waiting.  Up he lifted and you scrambled to meet him half way.

Just a little to the side - and the bright screen of your phone illuminated the living room.  It was closest to him, causing him to flinch just slightly when the glow blinded him.  He moved to grab it for you -

Before Bakugou could realize what was happening, your fingers brushed against his.  You both paused, your digits flinching away from him every so slightly.  He didn’t know if he should continue making the grab for it or if he should pull away.  He didn’t want to.  Your skin was so soft and warm and...

He could feel your eyes on him and almost was able keep his gaze away.  Almost able to hold off temptation.  But you were like that, weren’t you?  The light had dimmed, casting a soft glow over your features.  He wanted to look anywhere else - anywhere but at you.  But your eyes held his, demanded that he hold your attention.  He hated the soft sound that escaped him.  Hated the way his heart hammered in his chest as you stared at each other, fingers still touching ever so slightly.  

He shouldn’t feel this way about you.  But he did.

Bakugou pulled back with a grunt.  He could feel your eyes follow him as he stood back up and stepped away, away from you.  Why did you do this to him?  Why did you manage to make him the worst of himself?  Lord Explosion Murder - reduced to a sniveling little puppy, eager to please because a girl he kind of thinks is pretty sometimes makes him feel like he’s going to throw up.  

His fingers shook.  He shoved them back in his pockets to hide the evidence.

You plucked the phone off the ground and immediately hit the lock screen to turn the light off.  You were once against standing alone in the dark, though he could see you plainly.  Neither of you said a word.  He wished he could say something, not scream it but just say it.  His mind strained to find something meaningful to say to you, something catching or just enough to keep you distracted from your thoughts.  But you had the knack for words - he didn’t.  All he could do was leer at you, waiting for you to start conversation.  You always had something to say.  

You silently slipped your phone in the pocket of your skirt.  

There was something different about you.  A wall that was keeping you from him.  Maybe the girls’ concern for you had weight behind it.  You still didn’t look at him, eyes downcast.

He had hoped, that night in the kitchen, that things might have been different.  That maybe...someday...

“You got your damn phone.  Now go to bed.”  He turned on his heels and made his way back towards the stairs.  He was done.  He helped you out enough.  

Sometimes you were too much.  Messed with his head and pulled his mind in so many different directions, he forgot which way was up because right there with you was where he wanted to be. 

“Why do you want to be a hero?”

Your voice cut through the silence of the dorm like a knife.  He hadn’t expected you to speak up now, though it fit you.  Question, make him stay; just when he decided to leave.  And of course, because you asked him to stay - he would.

“What kind of stupid question is that?”

“Humor me.”

He regretted coming down here to talk to you.  He should have just stayed in the comfort of his room.  “Why?”

“Humor.  Me.”  

His eyes narrowed.  Even if you wrapped yourself around him, brought him to his knees and groveling in your steps, no one spoke to him like that.  He spun around, snarl behind gritted teeth.  Who the fuck did you think you were talking to?

Then he paused.

You were watching him and the hollow expression on your face shoved the rage back down into his stomach.  With just a glance, you quelled that fury.  Another noise, another shock. Then your eyes softened and your shoulders slumped.  You remembered where you were, who you were talking to...no...no, you had never been afraid to talk to him like that.  Never afraid to meet his attitude head to head.  So what was different now?  “Please,” You added on, quietly.

What the hell happened to you?

Why did he want to be a hero?  

“To be number one.”

“Is that it?”

I don’t know anymore.  He didn’t like this line of questioning.  Bakugou was a smart kid - he could tell this conversation wasn’t going to be like the last one the two of you had.  No tea, no gentle touches.  The wounds were infected now and he felt shame burrow deep.  You had something you wanted to say, but something else was keeping it trapped, holding you back from being honest with him.  “What are you getting at?”

You fell quiet, letting his eyes take you in.  With a sigh, you turned and sat back down on the couch.  Your body folded in on itself, your hands grasping your arms, shaking fingertips digging into the fabric of the white dress shirt you were wearing.  “Nothing.”  You said finally.  “Just...thinking.  About things.”

You thought a lot about a lot of things.  Perhaps a little too much for too long.  You were receding back into your thoughts, pulling away from him again.  While he didn’t enjoy the feelings that being around you brought, losing you to your own headspace wasn’t something he would do tonight.  Or...any night.  His feet carried him back to the couch.  With a groan he sat down beside you.  “Well, then say it out loud.”

You let out a laugh that sounded too much like a sneer.  “Yeah.  Okay.”

It took everything in him to not reach out and grab you.  “I’m being serious.”

“I know.”

He just wanted to fucking help you.  “So tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

Like you had helped him.  “Whatever the hell that’s going on.”

A moment passed before you pulled your eyes back to his.  Finally, you were back in the present - back in that room with him.  Suddenly, you were aware that he had stationed himself beside you, so close your arms were a breath away from each other.  And there was a moment of panic in your eyes.  

You smirked, “Oh, are you playing therapist now?”

“Shut up!”  He bellowed.  “And tell me what the hell is going on before I change my mind!”

Your laugh was bitter, but it was something.  You used your hands to push your hair back out of your eyes, “...okay.”  You started...then fell quiet again.  He could hear you swallow the regret, the shame, the fear.  He watched as you struggled to put to words everything spinning around you.  “I don’t think I belong here.  At all.”

There were a million things Bakugou would have thought you could have said.  That...wasn’t one of them.  He had never thought of you not here.  What would that look like?

“I look at everyone here: Kirishima and Uraraka and Tsu and Deku...and I just can’t seem to find a place to put myself.  Among the rest of our class.”  His brows furrowed as you spoke.  He watched as your expression shifted with each word - angry and bitter and lost and upset.  “Like, you all are able to keep your heads held high, keep looking forward and never seem to let things drag you down.  I...I just don’t think I can do that.  So...”  You shrugged, swallowing harshly.  “Maybe I don’t deserve to be here if I can’t handle it...not like everyone else can.”

This wasn’t about the raid - that was just a catalyst.  It obviously struck a chord with you.  

“That’s stupid.”  

Another laugh.  This one tear filled but honest; and so, so bittersweet.  “Yeah.  Yeah, you’re absolutely right.  It’s pretty pathetic, huh?”

“No, you idiot.  It’s stupid because you’re wrong.”

You stared at him, mouth agape.  Then, in a second, your eyes narrowed, your lips thinned and your expression darkened.  He couldn’t help but feel the pride bubble in his chest:  You had realized you weren’t going to avoid this.  Not with him.  Not when he could help you.  He closed his eyes, figured it best to keep you out of his sight until he finished.  

“Look, you moron.  If you want to be angry or sad about whatever the hell happened back there, fine.  Do it.  But what good is wallowing in your own self pity if you’re not going to do anything about it?!”

Your voice shook as you spoke.  “Okay fine - then what should I do, Bakugou?”

His eyes snapped open, lips parted in surprise at the question.  There was an edge to your expression, daring him to answer.  Daring him to suggest something.  Blow it up?  Yell at it?  Fight it until it gives up?  But where would you start?  It wasn’t a real person - you couldn’t threaten it to back down.  Eyes scoured the floor for a response, searched desperately to find something - a strand of advice - to give you.  But he had nothing.  

“Yeah,”  You moved, pushing yourself off the couch.  You snatched your bag with such force it almost swung around and hit him in the face.  “That’s what I thought.  You don’t have an answer either.”

Shit.  Shit. He watched you as you skirted past his legs, intent on burying everything again.  If he let this go - let you go - you might actually do it.  You might actually leave UA - leave everyone in Class 1-A, leave your dream, leave...him. 

“It’s fine.”  You added, making your way towards the stairs.  “I’ll be fine.”

But he knew that was a lie.  Everything about this situation was a lie.  You wouldn’t be fine if he let you go upstairs, left you along with those thoughts of inadequacy, and if you kept falling lower and lower...?

“Hey.”  

You paused in front of the elevator...then pressed the button, it’s soft white glow sending panic down Bakugou’s spine.  The only thing he could see of you in the dark was the back of your head, the way your chin dipped just so lightly to your chest.  You weren’t going to respond if he didn’t do something.  He didn’t want this conversation to end - not like this.  What would All Might say?  What would Kirishima say?  What would Deku say?

What would you say?

“You never told me:  Why did you agree to go on that raid?”

There was a moment of pause before you turned and glanced over your shoulder at him.  There was a confused expression on your face, your eyes scanning him to try and figure out just what he was playing at.  “I told you why I wanted to be a hero.”  It was a challenge.  Stay and face this.  “Now tell me why you went on that stupid raid.”

“Don’t get too worked up about this.”  Mr. Aizawa - no, Eraserhead - had said.  “The Big Three are one thing:  They’re strong enough to hold their own out there with the Pros.”  He called you all out by name.  Asui, Uraraka, Kirishima and you.  “You didn’t volunteer for this and you’re not obligated to participate.  It’s your call.”

It had been your call.  Your decision.  The Pros wouldn’t have shoved you into a situation you weren’t ready for.  The four of you had known that it was not necessary for you to go above and beyond what you had already done.  It was going to be dangerous, and you needed to not only be physically capable, but mentally as well.  

You should have waited, weighed the odds, thought about it for a moment longer.  

Your call.  Your choice:  Save a little girl who was in danger or back down.  Be a Hero or refuse to answer the call.

Well...the choice was simple than wasn’t it?

You hadn’t been capable.  You screwed up.  Once again jumping deeper into a situation than you should have.  You weren’t like your friends.  

You weren’t like them at all.

“Mr. Ai- I mean, Eraserhead!  After everything we just heard, I can’t imagine not helping out, sir!”

Someone who could raise their head and keep it held high.  Who could look danger in the eye and refuse to back down.

“Yeah, if you’re going to let us be apart of this, I’d like to pitch in however I can!”

Who saw someone and danger and threw themselves into the line of fire.  Who reached out a hand and kept holding on, long past the last scrap of energy was gone. 

"If I can use my power to help that girl even a little bit, then count me in Eraserhead!”

They were heroes.  You weren’t like them.

You stood up, nodding earnestly.  Your look was stern, your eyes hard as you looked at Eraserhead.  You were equals - at least in this moment.  “Yeah,  heroes save people - so I’ll do my best to make sure that girl is safe!”

You could feel Bakugou’s eyes pick you apart and put you back together.  Looking at him made you sick, made you want to crawl into yourself and rot.  But...with a soft sigh, your eyes casted up, trying to keep the tears from falling again.  You had thought you had done all your crying.  God, his face in the dark was a slight comfort.  His eyes practically glowed in the low light of the common room.  His dark t-shirt hung around his shoulders, his hair was a wild mess, sticking up in every direction.  And he just watched you.  No malice, no rage, just...waiting.  

Waiting for your answer.  

Why did you agree to join the raid?

To save that little girl.  Because that’s what heroes do. 

But...

“After my fight with Deku, you sat with me.  You didn’t have to do that either. So why?”

Arms gripping your hoodie, squeezing you for dear life.  His whole body trembled under your touch.  Tears as he begged for forgiveness that you couldn’t give him.  But you wanted to - because it would mean his pain would be put at ease.  If you couldn’t give him what he needed, what he longed for, you would at least be there for a moment longer than the tears would fall.  You just needed him to know he wasn’t alone.  You needed Katsuki Bakugou to know you were there for him, no matter what.

“And with the League attack?  You weren’t with Kirishima and them.  You went off on your own, to try and save me.  Why?”

They wouldn’t see how hard he worked.  How much he wanted to be a hero.  And if they hurt him, if he refused and the villains hurt him?  If they took that away from him…?  All of his hopes and dreams?

No.  No, you weren’t going to let that happen.  

You had to bite you lip to keep it from shaking.  Bakugou was listing off all your fuck ups as if they mattered.  As if they were helping his case.  As if they were something you should be proud of.  You considered telling him, making him aware that even in those moments, you still failed:  you got knocked out during the raid, during the fight with the villains, and that you hadn’t done much besides give him a hug in the kitchen.  You weren’t doing much.

Deep breath, look away.  His face was too much.  It was too honest, trying to grab at you and hold you still.  He could almost convince you that you did something besides hinder those who had a better chance of being a Hero.

“You do half the shit you do because you’re a good person.  You want to help people.”  Movement caused you to glance his way.  He turned to sit back down on the couch.  “As stupid as it is, I guess it’s pretty admirable.”

‘Pretty admirable’?  He - Katsuki Bakugou - thought it was admirable.  You opened your mouth, but after a long moment of silence found you had nothing to say, so you closed it again.  You hated that even without speaking, you were losing this fight.  “So does everyone else.”  You replied weakly.  It didn’t make you special.  It didn’t make you any different.

“That so?”

“Yeah.”

“Than wouldn’t that mean you belong here with all the other losers looking to be a Hero to protect people?”

Ding!

Behind you, the elevator opened.  

A soft gasp escaped your chest.  So...that’s what he was doing.  Leave it up to him to talk you around into a circle before shoving your argument back into your face...no, he hadn’t been nearly as harsh as you had expected.  He was speaking so softly to you, being as gentle as he knew how - which granted, wasn’t much, but appreciated none the less.  One shouldn’t look a gift explosion in the mouth.  

You looked at the elevator over your shoulder, stared at it’s open doors.  

You let them shut.

For the first time since that raid, you smiled.  Really, honestly smiled.  You set your bag down against the wall.  The walk back to the couch was the lightest you had felt in a long while.  You sat down next to him, resting your hands on your knees and one by one, you tapped your fingers against your skin.  With a deep breath, you felt your shoulders relaxed.  You weren’t surprised he was able to help.  “I guess...technically...using that logic...you’re not wrong.”

Bakugou scoffed, closing his eyes and tossing his head back.  “Of course I’m not wrong.”

You chuckled, shaking your head.  “How could I have ever thought to argue with you? Truly a futile effort to begin with.”

His smirk was quick, a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth before he grunted and looked away.  The prickly exterior he generally used to conceal himself was growing back into place and you couldn’t help but laugh.  You had been so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you almost forgot how much he made your heart skip.  As you looked over his profile, you realized that you were entirely thankful for Bakugou and not just in that moment.  You had been so stuck in your pit, sinking lower and lower that you didn’t think you’d ever get out of it.

But like everything, he broke the glass ceiling and shot through.  Only this time, he snatched you up and pulled your head to the surface.  Even if for a moment, you could breathe because he was holding your head above the water.  

You leaned over and bumped his shoulder with yours, nudging him warmly.  He ruined expectations again by waiting a moment before doing it back to you.  

He was so warm, his skin amazingly soft.  It lit your chest aflame and your cheeks grew pink - but you didn’t move.  The two of you leaned against each other but said nothing about it.  How did you find yourself here?  You had been close to him before but this was different in a way that didn’t seem to make any sort of sense.  And...you kind of like that it didn’t.  Because it didn’t have to.  You realized that sometimes, when it was just the two of you, as few as those “sometimes” may have been, you simply wanted it to just...be.  

You shouldn’t want to be so close to him, not now.  Would it be in poor taste?  Would he think less of you if he knew?  Did he know?  Did he feel the same way?  You were certain that if he looked over at you, looked into your eyes he would...at least see something.  You weren’t sure exactly what it was, but it was enough to cause your knees to knock and your chest to ache.  And you wondered if he would see how much your fingers longed to reach out and touch his body, draw him close and...  

But that didn’t matter.  Not now. 

You looked down at your hands.  If you...wanted to try...wanted to see if...this was something you could have, you would have to take the first leap.  Bakugou wasn’t going to do it.  He wasn’t going to be the one who dove head first.  But was now the perfect time?  Would there ever be a perfect time?  After having him strip your defenses, tear you down, build you back up - should you wait?

You spared another look, hoping that you might find confidence in his being.  

Your eyes met.  He was looking at you too.

No.  No, you weren’t waiting.  Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t someone you waited for.  If you were going to do this, see if he felt the same way you felt - all the crazy heart skips and lingering glances when the other wasn’t looking - you had to do this now.  

Gathering all your courage, you moved your hand and offered it to him.  His eyes tore away from your face then down at your open palm.  The universe held it’s breath, watched eagerly...as he slid his fingers between yours.  His calloused digits scratched at your skin lightly, his palms were a little clammy and...

Bakugou held you firm, grasping you tightly.  Desperate and scared and you remembered everything that lead you to this moment.

“That Bakugou kid likes you.”

Wild hair haloed in the setting sun peeking above the tops of overgrown trees.  Everyone around you disappears when his arms wrap around you.  He holds your hands, guiding the knife as he helps you chop.

“Out of all those losers, I was glad you were there.”

It felt like something was dragging you to him, tugging your body towards his.  He wasn’t stopping you, he wasn’t yelling or screaming or pushing you away.  He just watched, eyes narrowed and darkened under his hair.  Was he waiting to see what you would do?  Was he too scared to move on his own?  You reached out, gliding your fingers over his sandy blonde locks and brushing them out of the way so you could see his face.  Fingertips drifted down and over his cheek, trying to offer the same warmth he filled you with.  

Defiantly, a daring look in his eye, he pressed his cheek into your hand.  If you’re going to do this, then mean it.  Everything about him made you want to scream, drove you mad.  He always fought - and you saw now, that this whole time...he was fighting for you.  Fighting to let you know.  Had you been so entirely blind all this time?  

You wanted to say something, to let him know that you saw.  But words were wrong, thin, pointless and empty.  Nothing you could say would ever be enough to let him know how you felt.  So you would give all of you and hope that it was enough for him.

Without waiting another moment, you pressed your lips to his.  It was a deep and heavy action, one that he met with passion only he could muster.  You closed your eyes and lost yourself into his taste, the heat of his lips, his very presence.  It was a rush, one that sent you spinning - derailed all train of thought.  All that mattered was him.  All that lived in this universe was you and him.

His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you up and over him and you were happy to follow.  You didn’t dare break away, to lose the contact that you obviously both had been longing for.  Your fingers found their way into his hair, twisting and tangling.  Never once did he pull away - quite the opposite.  He met you, every press of your lips, every motion of want and desire, laid bare in front of both of you.  And as you felt his finger graze over the skin on your back, dipping under your dress shirt to set the nerves there on fire, you realized both of you were utter fools.

It’s an awful thing: knowing you’re not enough.  Wanting something so badly, but no matter how much you long for it, it still slips through your grasp.  Of knowing that nothing you could have done would have changed the outcome.

He should have stayed in his dorm.  He should have never looked at his phone.  He should have never told you about Bakugou.  

He should have never let you get so close.  

It was by chance he glanced at the window looking into the common room, hand poised in front of the door.  At first, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking at - two shadowed masses, one on top of the other.  But then, he saw your face.  His heart wrenched when you pulled away from Bakugou.  A scream locked in his throat the way you smiled at him, soft and loving.  He hated the look in your eyes as you ran your thumb over his lips, as he slid his fingers into your hair to pull you back for more. 

Something Shinsou couldn’t have.  Someone he wasn’t enough for.

He didn’t linger on the steps for too long.  He feared you would see him and then - then you would have to talk.  He wasn’t sure he would be able to handle that, not with Bakugou behind you.  

The walk back to the dorm was a long one and he was surprised he made it into his room without incident.  It was late enough though, most of his classmates were asleep and the rest had retired to their rooms.  No one knew he was gone.  His mind was utterly blank until the locked clicked shut.

He didn’t realize he had punched the wall until his hand pulled back, sliced open.  Blood pooled and ran down his arm.  But it wasn’t enough.  It didn’t stop him from replaying that scene in his head over and over again.  The way you two were looking at each other, the soft touches, gentle smiles...

He slumped to the floor and let out one pitiful sob.  

What was he supposed to do now?

Author’s Note:  I honestly watched Cats the 2019 musical and then wrote Shinsou’s part because I’ve been having a pretty good week honestly so I wasn’t in the headspace for honest disappointment.  

I just needed something to remind me that happiness is fleeting and something terrible and awful will usually come and destroy what you know and love most in this world.  Drag your joy through the mud until the only thing left is a shell of what once was.

...who let’s Hooper direct shit?

Anyway.  I do think I’m going to lead into a part 4 for this one.  I don’t know.  I’ll let you guys decide if you want something more lol since I’m interested in continuing it.  Especially given the newer chapters. 

Also eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey, kissing scene.  First real one on this blog anyway and not a kiss mentioned in passing.  And look, it only took me a year or so to do it. :)  I’m a fantastic mod of this blog who gives people what they want and doesn’t focus on stupid shit in the slightest why are you guys here you should have left me on the street corner where I was standing

Tag List!  If you want to be added, let me know!

@snaspants​ | @purplebellybell | @sxlenced-xf-lxvers​ | 

#katsuki bakugou #katsuki #katuski bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugo #jealous bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #canon x reader #shinsou x reader #Shinsou #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinshou x reader #bnha shinsou #this #was #a long time coming #and I honestly feel like it's still not perfect #but. #yeah #yeeeeeeeah #Happier || Series

[pressedinthepages]

Sidetrack: Geralt

Summary: An unfriendly figure from the past still haunts you to this day, and Geralt finds a way to end that.

Series Masterlist

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: language, angst, fluff

A/N: Whoops my hand slipped. There was a big question that I needed to answer in this series, so here it is! I plan on doing one more “sidetrack” for another plotline :)

    You hear hooves approaching your cottage, just the faintest plods against wet leaves under the sound of Eskel snoring. He didn’t used to snore, but here, in this sanctuary, he is comfortable. You stand, leaving the herbs you had been sorting on the table. You discreetly peer out of the window towards the near-invisible path from the woods, watching as a familiar figure steps out of the shadows. The moonlight dances over the silver of his hair and lets you see the high planes of his face, darkened by the tell-tale scowl on his mouth.

    You push open the door gently so as not to wake your sleeping Witcher. The air is cool on your exposed arms as you cross the small valley, meeting Geralt half-way. He looks tired, but only in the way that another Witcher would notice. The subtle way that his head hangs slightly or that his shoulders are not perfectly held. Nevermind the fact that his armor stinks to high hell. 

    “Gods, Geralt. How long has it been since you’ve cleaned that?” You cross your arms as you stand just out of his reach. 

    “I’ve been busy,” Geralt hums, and you smirk lightheartedly. “Listen, I need your help.”

    “Of course Geralt, whatever you need, I can-”

    “It’s about Stregobor.”

    Your blood runs cold, the world spinning around you as you feel rooted to the spot. And then, like oil bubbling and spitting through the streets of Novigrad, anger fills your stomach and boils over. “That motherfucker? What is it, Geralt? Hang on, let me get my shit and then we-”

    “Wait. We’re not rushing into anything here, not now.” Geralt’s right, and you know it. You huff nonetheless, gesturing for him to go on.

    “I know where he is. Yennefer did some magic-y yada yada and was able to figure out where he’s hiding. It looks like he’s holed up in some cave system that I am sure is enchanted. Yen is waiting with a portal for us,” Geralt shudders, “but we have to leave quickly. There’s no telling what exactly we’d be walking into, but I want to get rid of him once and for all.”

    You nod, glancing back to your little home. Eskel is probably still asleep, curled around nothing in the void where you usually lay. Your heart swells up, conflicted. As if reading your mind, Geralt chimes in. “I’m not asking lightly. I know how much of a risk this is, and I get it if you would rather stay here. But I wanted to ask you, since you have a history with him too.”

    You look up at Geralt, letting your eyes drift over the way he holds himself. The great ‘Butcher of Blaviken,’ stooped down and looking at you with fire in his eyes. You steel yourself, biting your lip before shaking your head. “Let me go grab my gear, I’ll meet you back here.”

    You leave him and Roach, listening as he walks her over to your stables. The door is silent as you walk into the house, letting you pad along the floor over to the edge of the bed. You kneel and slide out the little trunk that has held your armor for more than a year, now. You have to move aside some of Eskel’s as you retrieve your own, smiling a bit at the familiar red and brown stripes. 

    You stand and begin methodically dressing in the heavy pieces. First, the trousers, enforced with hardened leather and chitinous shell at the knees. You have to let the belt out a bit at the waist, having grown a little bit soft around the middle since you last dressed in these. Next a plain tunic thrown over your simple corset, followed by your boots. It’s so much easier to do them first rather than trying to bend over in all of your armor. They are stretched and molded from years of use, plates of enriched dimeritium steel decorating the sides. Then comes the chest armor, meticulously pieced together from different monster bits to provide the highest level protection from any number of creatures one may run across. Finally the gloves, your fingertips bare to provide the most direct source of any signs you may cast. 

    You look over the room, finding your swords resting against the door frame. You run your hands through your hair before pulling it back so it is away from your face. What am I thinking?

    “There’s a pack under the washbasin, it’s got all of the potions and oils in it…” You startle at Eskel’s deep rumble, finding him watching from where he lay over the pillows. Sure enough, when you look, there’s Eskel’s old saddlebags, filled to the brim with various decoctions. You move back to the bed and perch on the edge, running your fingertips over the scar down Eskel’s cheek. He sighs into your touch, turning to press his lips to your palm. 

    “How much did you hear?” You ask, running your fingers through his hair. 

    “Enough to know that this is insanely dangerous. But I also know that you have to do this. And I’m just glad that Geralt’s going with you.”

    You lean down, pressing your foreheads together for a long moment. “I love you, Eskel.”

    His eyes, deep gold in the way of sunlight filtered through the trees, find yours in the darkness. “Just come back to me, that’s all I ask.”

    You kiss him, trying to pour every bit of love and promise into him that you can. You break away first, knowing that if you push it any longer, you won’t actually make it out of the door. You throw on your dark cloak and latch the buckle of your sword sheaths over your shoulder, turning to look back at Eskel one more time. 

    He sits on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands intertwined between them. He looks up at you, and you can smell the fear pouring from his skin. You nod, choking on unsaid words as the door closes behind you. 

    Your eyes shine as you approach Geralt once more. “Ready?” He asks.

“As I’ll ever be.” The final leaves that still decorate the trees dance in the breeze as you pass underfoot, following in Geralt’s footsteps. He suddenly stops, just far enough into the trees to be out of sight of your home. He reaches into his pouch and pulls out a little circular device, opening the lid and taking a deep breath.

“Yennefer? We’re ready.” As soon as the words leave his mouth your medallion hums against your chest, the air kicking up around you. A portal opens up between the trees, a black void lined with bright orange and red energy. Geralt groans, moving forward first.

“Gods, I hate portals.” He disppears as he steps through, leaving you in the silent forest, save for the audible buzz coming from the portal. You follow quickly behind, hearing it snap shut as your stomach lurches forward, pulling the rest of you with it. 

***

The air is significantly cooler, the ground crunching with the beginnings of the incoming frost. When your eyes open you notice a tall mountain before you, the entrance to a cave situated not far from where you stand. Geralt shivers, clearly still recovering from the aggressive sudden relocation. 

“Does he know that we’re here?” You whisper, drawing your steel sword. 

Geralt hums, doing the same. “No. Yennefer rendered his outer enchantments null, so we should be able to sneak in pretty easily.”

You nod, and the two of you move silently up to the mouth of the cave. You reach into the pouch that you have situated on your hip, finding a bottle of Cat. You down it in one go, shuddering with the taste. Geralt raises an eyebrow, knocking back his own bottle.

“Shut up, it’s been a while.”

“Didn’t say a word.”

The world sharpens to every little detail in the rocks, rough edges jutting out over a small creek that runs through the stone. Geralt steps first, keeping his feet light and quick down the paths. You follow in his wake, and you can feel your medallion humming harder against your chest as you climb further and further into the depths of the cave. 

“We’re close” Geralt murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. “Climb up there and you can drop down. I’m going to go around, try and get him from behind. You need to go up to him and cast Yrden, that way he can’t portal out of here.”

“Got it,” you reply, hefting yourself over an upturned boulder and onto an overhang. You can hear the bubbling of various mixtures, the intertwined scents tingling your nose. You can see a lab of sorts, dimly lit by candles around the place. There are barrels and trunks littering the floor, and a man in a long, dark robe stands before a table. His hair is grey and unkempt, and you can feel a powerful magic deep in your bones. You give a count to thirty, letting Geralt find his way around the cavern. 

You take a deep breath before launching yourself forward, landing in a crouch right behind the mage. Yrden leaves your hand before the man can even turn around, trapping him in an almost invisible ring, the barest bit of purple light betraying the edge of his trap. 

“What the-! Why I-urgh!” The mage seems to go through several emotions quite quickly, dancing through confusion into anger, and then anger into pain. His knees hit the floor quite forcefully when Geralt leaps onto him from behind, yanking his arms behind his back and locking a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. You can feel your stamina depleting as you hold the sign, clearly a bit out of practice. We should do some training, just to keep up to standards, you think to yourself. 

“Don’t bother trying to break them,” he growls into the mage’s ear, “they’re dimeritium.”

You let Yrden go, your energy quickly returning in its wake.  You watch as Stregobor struggles in his binds before relenting, looking up at Geralt with a smug smile. “So we meet again, Witcher. And it seems you’ve brought a friend.”

Your stomach churns, but you force down your swirling emotions in favor of observing the mage a bit closer. You step into the light, letting Stregobor see your face. This face, scarred and feral and tired, that he recognizes in an instant. 

“Ah, even better. A friend that I already know.” You bare your teeth at his words, measuring your steps as you step closer. “Are you here to finally understand what you truly are?”

You grab his chin forcefully, breathing heavily into his face. “I know what I am. I am a Witcher, a human, nothing more. You, however, are a monster.”

Geralt hums from where he stands behind Stregobor. “Witchers kill monsters, do they not?”

You nod, pressing the tip of your blade to the delicate skin under the mage’s neck. “Did you truly believe in the Curse? Or was this all some game?”

Stregobor, the bastard, smiles wider, all innocence gone from his eyes. He knows he’s been caught, might as well have a bit of fun. “What does it matter? It’s over now, has been for decades. All of the rest of you are gone, you remain the final piece to my puzzle.”

“It matters,” you growl, “because I am the one with a blade to your neck.”

“No. The curse, it’s a myth. Sure, there was the oddity in one’s anatomy every now and then, but that was mere coincidence.”

You blink, a hurricane of emotion swirling just beneath the surface. But you can’t let it out, not yet. You have work to do.

Geralt steps around to stand at your side, and you can smell the rage pouring off of his skin. Like a wildfire made of cinnamon bark, burning the hairs along your arms as the wind blows over. 

“Go on,” he whispers, Stregobors eyes widening as your fingers tighten on the worn leather of the hilt. “Finish it.”

With a flick of your wrist and a step to the left Stregobor’s head hits the ground, followed soon after by the rest of his body. His blood runs thick and dark over the wet cavern floor. You can’t hear anything over the sound of your heart pounding in your chest and your breath coming fast. You sheathe your sword, stalking to retrace your steps through the cave. 

Your feet dance over the rocks as you climb out of the darkness, forcing yourself to ignore the thoughts whirling through your mind. You burst from the cave entrance, finding only dense forest and nowhere to go. The last traces of your potion leave your system, your eyes returning to their somewhat normal state. You look around for anything, finding nothing, panic taking over as you brace to run. 

And then Geralt is there, his hand on your arm. You look to him, finding a mirror of your own emotions in his eyes. His grip tightens, forcing you to stay. “Tell me.”

Tears well up unbidden as your damn finally breaks. You sink into his arms, sobs wracking your body. Geralt stiffens for a millisecond before his arms wrap around you, sheltering you from the storm that feels as though it is erupting from deep in your chest. 

“It was a waste,” you cry, “all of those years spent running, keeping you all safe, from me. But it didn’t matter, I wasn’t-I’m not-”

Your voice dissolves back into sobs, mourning the years that you lost because of the actions of another. Geralt told you his story with Stregobor, and Renfri. She, and countless others, had her life snatched from her, for nothing. 

“It’s done,” Geralt murmurs, “You don’t have to let this control you any longer.”

You take a deep breath and nod, stepping back into your own space. “Thank you, Geralt.”

He hums, opening up that same little box from before. Another portal opens just before you and you step through first, your feet carrying you home.

***

Your cloak billows around you as your feet meet the mossy ground of the forest around your valley. You hear Geralt groan as the portal pops shut before you take off running. The sun is just starting to rise over the mountains, bathing the lower areas in soft light that beckons towards the mist. The treetops give way to wide, clear skies as you run up the path towards your home. You see the door open with Eskel on the other side, visibly relaxing at the sight of you.

You gasp unwillingly as he runs to meet you, falling into each other’s arms as soon as you feel him on your skin. You fit your nose into the crook of his neck and breathe in, scenting the last of his anxiety filtering away, leaving only the soft scent of home in its wake. Eskel’s hands hold you impossibly close and you can feel how his chest trembles under your fingers. 

Eskel parts from you only enough to look you in the eyes. “Did everything go okay? Where’s Geralt?”

“Yes, it’s done. Geralt was behind me, he’s probably emptying his stomach in the forest.”

“I HEARD THAT.” Geralt shouts from the treeline and you turn, watching as he trudges up the path. “I’m fine, just hate portals.”

“Yes, Geralt, we know.” Eskel laughs, and that sound, so deep and true and happy makes every moment of regret you may have felt seem so insignificant. “Come on, I’ve got breakfast ready.”

Eskel takes your hand and the three of you walk inside, dropping your swords and armor off to go back to their silent vigil over your home. 

#hollow things #eskel x reader #surprise bitch #betcha thought you'd seen the last of me

[thewarriorandtheking]

I certainly believe in celebrating love, but Valentine’s has always struck me as such a manufactured holiday...these days it seems to exist mostly to sell cards and chocolate.  I had this idea for a scene with the Warrior and The King, I decided to turn it into a Valentine’s anniversary.

........

“What’s the occasion?”

Kaylea Wolf looked at the slim black box with a sense of apprehension. Today must be another special date that she had completely forgotten about. Thorin was so much better at remembering these things than she was. Kaylea knew it was the day men of Gondor celebrated their beloved, but Thorin had never bothered himself with the holidays of Men. This had to be something else.

The King of Erebor smiled at her. He knew she would forget which meant he got to surprise her, he always enjoyed that. “This is the day we first met, one hundred years ago.”  

Kaylea looked up at him, calculating the dates in her head. “So it is. I honestly do not know how you remember these things. Has it really been a hundred years? It seems like just yesterday.”

“I remember some very long years,” Thorin replied. “But it is hard to believe how much has happened since then.”

A hundred years, that did explain his choice of venue. Kaylea looked out at the view from their table, the city of Minas Tirith falling steeply away beneath them to the plains. The mountains of the Ephel Duath sharp against the evening sky, the peaks just catching the last rays of the setting sun. The White Fox was one of the most luxurious inns in the city, located in the sixth circle it often hosted visiting royalty and its fare was famous far beyond Gondor. The tables were full this evening as many noble couples were celebrating the holiday. Every head had turned when Kaylea Wolf and Thorin Oakenshield had walked across the room to one of the best tables, set apart against the windows and a step up from the main floor. Kaylea was widely regarded as one of the most beautiful women in Middle Earth and tonight she was not wearing her usual black traveling clothes, but a long red dress, mithril beads shining in her elaborately braided golden hair. The King was resplendent in midnight blue, a wide jeweled belt around his fur-trimmed silver vest. The first course had just been cleared when Thorin slid the box across the table.

“Are you not going to open it?” Thorin asked. Kaylea looked at it, her hands in her lap.

“Each thing that you give me is more spectacular than the last. They never seem fitting for an old warrior like me.”

“Nonsense,” Thorin said. He got up from his chair and walked around behind her, reaching over her shoulder to press the latch of the box. “There is a reason I asked you to wear your red dress.”

Kaylea gasped despite herself. It was a necklace made of three strands of tiny rubies interspersed with the occasional diamond, the chain between them fine as a strand of silk. Stones hanging from the lowest chain gave the effect the gems were dripping off. As everyone in the inn watched Thorin lifted the necklace out and fastened it around her neck, it fit perfectly in the low, heart-shaped neckline of her dress. Thorin kissed her lightly beneath her ear and walked back to take his seat.

“Now you look like my wife,” he was smiling widely, obviously pleased. Kaylea ran a hand over the necklace, the stones cold against her skin. She felt a bit self-conscious wearing so many jewels. She normally only wore jewelry for Thorin in Erebor and perhaps that was his point.   

“This is amazing. Must have taken you forever to set so many stones.”

Thorin chuckled. “One hundred. And yes, it took me some time but I always enjoy making these things. Though I do admit, I wish you would wear them more.”

Kaylea looked at him mischievously. “I hate to tell you this, but you married a soldier.”

Thorin laughed. “And you married a Dwarf. What a pair we are!”

Kaylea laughed with him, reaching to pour them more wine. “Thank you, my king. I will try to wear it for you often,” Kaylea raised her glass, clicking it against Thorin’s.

“See that you do,” Thorin said, in mock seriousness.

As they drank Kaylea could feel the eyes of many in the room on her. She felt a bit sorry for any man giving out jewelry tonight, everything would look pale beside Thorin’s work. The waiters had just served their second course when the man at the next table kneeled beside his lady, taking her hand. Those around them applauded as she said yes and the man slid a ring on her finger. Thorin was watching closely.

“That is a good stone,” he said, nodding approvingly at the ring.

Kaylea shook her head, remembering the time Thorin had done the same to her, so many years ago. “How did you know I would say yes when you did that to me?” She asked.

Thorin shrugged. “I did not know for sure, I only thought you would find it harder to say no in front of those Elves,” he grinned at her over his wineglass. “I thought it was worth the risk.”

“Every time you asked I found it harder to refuse you,” Kaylea said.

“I know,” Thorin smiled knowingly at her. “Why do you think I kept asking?” He looked out the window thoughtfully. “I resented you so much at first. You, and Dain, and Balin, and everyone who kept telling me to marry someone else.”

Kaylea studied her husband, turning her wine glass between her fingers. “You did surprise me, when I came back and found you married. I did not think you would do it.”

“It was the right thing to do, in my heart I knew that. My people accept you now, I do not think they would had it not been for Shurri, and the heirs she bore me.” He looked back at her with a smile. “And it did work out in the end, I got to marry you not once, but three times!”

Kaylea smiled back at him, remembering each wedding. The first private ceremony, then the huge coronation in Erebor, the spring wedding her brothers had insisted on at Tor Graham. She reached into the hidden pocket in her dress and brought out a small metal case. “It happens that I also have something for you,” she said. “When you said we were dining here tonight I suspected you might be up to something so I brought it along.”

Thorin’s eyes went wide when he saw the markings on the box. He looked up at her in astonishment. “You never!”  

“I have had this for many years,” Kaylea said. “It was given in gratitude for services rendered. I had been saving it, and now I know I was saving it for you.”  

Thorin picked up the box, the markings were the language of Mhyr, source of the rarest jewels in the Empire. Fabulous gems that glowed with inner fire, shifting colors as they were turned. To find even one required many years of careful searching. This tiny box was worth as much as a small planet.

The King looked at her seriously. “You say I give you extravagant gifts! All the worth of Erebor could not buy this.”

“You are more than all that gold to me, husband. And what better gift could I give than one that even the Fair Folk would envy?”

Thorin glanced up at her, still amazed. In all his travels with her he had only ever seen one Mhyrstone, in the tiara of the Emperor’s daughter. He slid the box open to reveal not one of the multicolored gems, but two. Now it was the King’s turn to gasp. He did not want to lift them out of the case in the crowded inn, but moved them in their holders with his finger. They were nearly flawless, cut by a master. Thorin was stunned. The only gem that could outshine the fabled Silmarils of the Elves, and now his wife had given him two!

“After all these years you can still surprise me,”Thorin shook his head. “I will set these one in each of our crowns. As a testament to our love.” He reached across the table and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “I cannot live without my warrior Queen.”

“And I cannot face life without my handsome King,” Kaylea replied with a soft smile.

Thorin looked across the table at his beautiful wife, her eyes shining over the sparkling necklace. He was very much looking forward to the next hundred years.

#fanfic #fanfiction #short reads #wrtiting #thorin oakenshield #thorin #king under the mountain #thorin oakenshield x oc #romance #true love #middle earth #jrr tolkien #tolkien fanfic #keep on writing #the hobbit #lotr

[dragon-fics]

S&H: Ch. 27 The End Of the Beginning.

Chapter summary: Molten and Zion wake up, expecting to be by each others side; but they’re not.

Notes, Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8, Ch. 9, Ch. 10, Ch. 11, Ch. 12, Ch. 13, Ch. 14, Ch. 15, Ch. 16, Ch. 17, Ch. 18, Ch. 19, Ch. 20, Ch. 21, Ch. 22, Ch. 23, Ch. 24, Ch. 25, Ch. 26, Ch. 27

Zion woke up slowly. He felt like he had slept for a week; his head was light, and he felt more refreshed than ever before as a breeze blew on his face through the open balcony door. He raised a hand over his face and cracked open his eyes as the mid-morning sun shone in through the transparent net curtain in front of the glass doors. He blinked twice, confused.

He was in his room in the Askal Castle. But he did not understand how he got there. He propped himself up on his elbows, looking around, before looking at who lay in his bed; one of his ‘bed buddies’. A bay Pegasus lay beside him, laying on his stomach, snoozing quietly.

“What the fuck?” Zion muttered, holding his hand to his forehead. He sat on the edge of the bed, his silk sheets still covering his bare legs as he rubbed his face.

Molten.

That was all that was going through his mind. He had felt like he had lived a lifetime with the drake... But where was he? He remembered nothing about coming to the castle. He reached across to his bedside table, picking up his silver, latest model phone from its wireless charging station. He pressed the ‘on/off’ button. His lock screen showed his usual background of the Roanian flag. And then he saw the date; 26 June. He briefly remembered looking at his calendar the day of his and Molten’s wedding, and according to his phone, that year was three years.

Zion felt his head get even lighter, he felt dizzy. He unlocked his phone and scrolled through his contacts; no Molten and none of Molten’s family were in his contacts list. He put his phone down again and looked at his hands. No rings. No pale sapphire engagement ring, no silver and gold wedding ring. He breathed out through closed lips.

He thought hard. Long and hard. Trying to figure it all out. He felt like he had lost part of himself by not waking up to have the drake by his side.

And then it hit him.

“It was a dream.”

*-*-*-*

Molten groaned to himself as sunlight shone into his eyes. His head was throbbing from a hangover as he prolonged opening his eyes. Eventually, the heat of the sun irritated him enough to open his eyes. He stretched as he looked around. He was in his old bedroom; in the cottage he was supposed to have moved out of a few years ago. He rubbed his eyes and pinched the scales on his bare forearm; he was awake.

He forced himself up. He winced, thinking was hard with his hangover clouding his mind so he was pretty fucking confused. He sat on the edge of his bed, leaning on his knees. Immediately he saw there was no ring on his finger. He felt his horns; they were bare. He drew in a slow breath through his nose, trying to smell the air. There was no scent of a newborn lingering in the air.

Zion.

Where was he?

Molten reached for his phone. He pressed the ‘on/off’ button only to realise the battery was flat. He plugged his phone in quickly and waited for his lock screen to flash on. It felt like the longest minute of his life.

He saw the date on his phone. “Three years?” He questioned. “How?” He unlocked his phone as a dragoness with taffy scales and small wings entered the room. She was about Molten’s age, with smudged make-up and dressed in a cyan party dress.

“Hey, Bethany,” Molten said wearily, pushing aside the Zion ‘thing’ for now. Bethany looked at the ground, swayed from side-to-side.

“Moltie? Can I have some cash to get a cab home?” She asked, playing with her finger. Molten picked up his jeans from the night before and grabbed a twenty credit note from his wallet.

“That should be enough, right?” He asked, handing it the blue paper note. Bethany nodded, took the money and grabbed her high-heeled shoes on the way out. Molten Ross to his feet as she left, he walked into his bathroom at looked straight at himself, trying to remember everything he could as she searched through his phone.

“It wasn’t real?” He looked around the room. “It was a dream.”

*-*-*-*

As soon as his ‘bed buddy’ woke, Zion rushed him out the door. And not long after, he left the room, dressed in a crisp shirt and jeans. According to his dream, he had had an argument with sire before meeting Molten. Yes, he had never come out to his sire, but he didn’t want that to happen, not in this reality.

He motioned down the hallway. With any luck, he might have Mona accompany him to talk with their sire.

“Zion,” came his sire’s voice. He turned around.

“Father,” he greeted, pushing aside his thoughts. Arryn put a hand on Zion’s shoulder.

“Come with me,” he said. He brought Zion down to the library, which was now the games room of the castle, which was on the ground floor. Zion hadn’t been down here for years, alone anyway. Especially since most of his memories here were with his dam—she was an avid reader and loved the stars.

She used to keep her favourite books in one corner, way down the back, behind the once tall oak bookshelves. Zion put all his favourite books there too. It was the only part of the library that remained. Arryn brought Zion to that corner. There were two large chairs in that corner, a rocking chair and a solid oak chair. Zion remembered when his dam would sit in the rocking chair, cradling Kate or Sarabi as she read one of her books.

He swallowed hard. “Father, why have you brought me here?” He looked at the ground.

“You remind me so much of her, Zion,” Arryn replied. He motioned back towards the more modern part of the room, towards the red velvet couch and theatre screen. “So much.” He sat on the couch before gesturing Zion to sit with him. Zion did so.

“So, what have you been meaning to tell me?” Arryn said, getting straight to the point. Zion drew in a breath; this was so much harder than coming out to his sisters.

“I think I met my soulmate in my dreams,” he blurted. He held his head in his hands.

Arryn cocked a brow. “No one has experienced that in quite some time,” he noted. “Are you sure?”

“I lived so much of my life last night. Besides, why else would I dream about falling in love with a dragon?”

*-*-*-*

Molten strode through the forest. But this time there had been no argument at home, nor was he wandering as he had in his dream. His family was about twenty paces behind him, well most of them—someone had to stay with Ember and Blaze didn’t believe what Molten said.

He had gone through his tale in great detail, so it was convincing. He had heard of people dreaming for their soulmates, but it had only ever been about their first meeting or their wedding or something like that. He settled that if today was the day he met his chosen one, his soulmate, he wanted his family to be there to make sure it wasn’t a dream this time.

He could see something ahead, some white, thin figure. He moved closer, fixing his hoodie a little as he strode forward.

***

Zion heard someone comes closer. He saw Mona, his twin, give him two thumbs up. She was as excited as he was, giggling and smiling as they trespassed into Wyrmia. She was a sucker for romantic stories.

Zion smiled. His sire had insisted on all of them to come. This could be a historic moment for Wyrmia and Roania, so why miss it?

Zion relaxed with a deep breath and turned around. His icy blue eyes met Molten’s sky-blue eyes, rendering them both motionless. They felt like they had known each other their entire lives as they stared at each other. Their hearts raced as they wondered what to say.

Finally, Molten spoke. “Zion?”

“Molten,” Zion answered, his lips lifting into a smile. They didn’t realise it, but they were getting slowly closer, until Molten wrapped his arms and Zion, sweeping him closer to him. Zion held him back, burying his face in his hoodie. Molten drew in Zion’s sweet scent as he held him, rubbing the back of his hoodie. They separated gently until Molten saw Zion’s sisters.

“Mine also came along,” Molten whispered to Zion. He looked behind Molten.

“No, Ember?” He asked. Molten was a little taken aback, but it was a shared dream. He shook his head. Molten took Zion’s hands in his and ran his thumbs over the soft fur of his hands. Zion smiled at him and pecked him on the lips, Molten kissed him back for a longer-lasting kiss.

“I don’t suppose we could trade hoodies? Just until we meet again,” Zion suggested after they broke away, already trying to lift Molten’s off. Molten raised a brow but took off the hoodie. Zion held the hoodie in a bundle in his arms. He handed his own to Molten and slipped on his. It was quite a few sizes too big, but he expected it with the size difference between the two. Sleeves flopped passed his hands, and it ended near his knees—he loved it.

He smiled brightly and started back towards his family before turning back around to Molten, who led his small hoodie in his hands, feeling how soft it was. Zion jumped into his arms. Molten held him easily as he straddled him and they shared a sweet, long passionate kiss. Zion broke away and strode off, leaving Molten in the clearing. They smiled to themselves.

This is where it all begins.

#Scales and Hooves

[itbeajen]

Agape [8] | Yuri Plisetsky | Witch!AU

"Wake up, sunshine," the Sorcerer cooed. He was ecstatic. No, perhaps ecstatic wasn't the correct word, he wasn't even sure if there was a word that could properly describe the rush of emotions he was experiencing. He twirled around, using your body and he gently patted down the creases on your outfit. He could still feel your resistance, albeit much fainter than it was before, but still putting up a fight in the control for your body. He frowned, but there was a hint of ferocity laced within the usual gesture of discomfort or disagreement. He tuts, and instead of your usual gentle and soothing voice, the voice is almost guttural and definitely dripping with malice and toxins. "Now now [F/N], the more you resist me, the more your precious Hunter here will suffer in your stead. Of course, unless you want him to suffer, then I'll be more than glad to help you," he chastised you in your attempts to reclaim your body. He can't hear you, nor can he see you, but he can still feel your presence. It was a constant flickering thing, much similar to a gnat that's constantly buzzing near your ear or a flash of light in the corner of your eye. He frowned and muttered, "Persistent whore, you should know better than to fight against me for possession of this body. It's only temporary anyways, although this body is quite flattering and-" His monologue is cut off by the sudden movement made by the previously fallen hunter. Despite lunging upwards with the use of his sword, Yuri was still adjusting himself from the strange dream he just had. Glaring aquamarine orbs were slightly outlined in silver, and the Sorcerer rose a delicate eyebrow as he watched Yuri wobbly stabilized himself after one swing of the enchanted sword. The Sorcerer licks his - your - lips, and then pauses upon tasting a rather familiar warm liquid. Iron. Your lips curled into a hysterical smile and the Sorcerer chuckled, "A. Wound?"

His voice was deliriously delightful, yet also laced with disbelief and slight hostile. He cocked his head slightly to the right, your hair tilting away from the wound and he slowly raises a hand to his right cheek. "You actually managed to cut me?" the Sorcerer laughed, "Ah, the cons of having a physical body. Of course, the White Witch is much more sturdy than a mere human, but even then.." he pauses as he channels some magic from the air around him and freezes his entire right side of the face in a mask of some sort. There was no beauty or aesthetic meaning to the mask. Your eyes were no longer the familiar arctic blue that Yuri grew to love and cherish, but rather some sort of demonic symbol. Your eyes no longer reflected the peace and understanding you were hoping to obtain from this conflict. Instead, it was the window into the never ending swirl of darkness known as the Sorcerer. The pitch black and lack of color indicated nothing more than the lack of life and meaning outside of hate and resentment. Yuri's breath was labored as he attempted to breathe in the suffocating presence of the Sorcerer. His eyes were steeled as he narrowed them at the Sorcerer in what resembled hate and anguish. The Sorcerer chuckled, and for a moment Yuri's resentment is lulled away due to the familiar melodic chuckle that should only belong to you. "Oh, look at you, so torn. This is why every hunter and White Witch failed, you know?" Every hunter has failed? Yuri's eyes widened at this statement. The Sorcerer noticed the slight surprise and he laughed, "But of course, that's why your soul is continually reborn. Of course, no memories are retained, otherwise you guys would have maybe learned from the first time around. But it seems as though.." The Sorcerer glances down at the glowing pendant that mirrored Yuri's. The pendant on your body floated away from it, and towards Yuri, as though it knew that the current owner of the body was no longer you. The Sorcerer grimaced and he muttered, "It seems as though you pesky insects finally figured it out. "But of course, can you actually bring yourself to harm [F/N], she's your-" "I made a promise," Yuri declared in a soft voice. But with that declaration, he had already lashed out twice. With his sword, he swings it forward, causing the Sorcerer to lean away and then stumble backward. And then with his left hand, his gun takes aim. A resounding shot echoes through the walls of the cavern and the Sorcerer's eyes widen in pure shock. Yuri internally cringed upon seeing himself shoot a bullet through your body. It's not her. He internally fought his urge to stop, but he made a promise. I said I'd end this. For the both of us. Even though it means.. even though it means she'll die. He momentarily lowers his head before shaking his thoughts away. The flicker of vulnerability in his eyes was gone, and the icy cold masked away any of his emotions. The Sorcerer frowned and muttered, "Perhaps you're different from the others, but even then." A bloodthirsty grin curls upward on his lips, and his eyes flickered from red to black and then to purple. His left arm slowly rises from his side, but Yuri's movements were quicker. With much discipline and trained movement, Yuri sheathes his gun in its holster and then lunges forward, one hand placed on the blade of the enchanted sword he had been passed on to from Otabek. "Percutio!*" Yuri commands. The runes on the sword lights up in a flash of brilliant blue before enveloping the whole of the sword. He runs his left hand from the hilt to the tip and muttered, "Linio.*" The Sorcerer doesn't manage to move fast enough, and Yuri's sword manages to litter cuts all over his left arm. An ear piercing scream of pain is heard from the Sorcerer as he clutches his left arm with his right hand. He glares at the young hunter and growled, "YOU DARE SEAL MY MAGIC? I am magic. How dare you." He attempts to lunge forward, but in the internal realms in which he fought against your for control of your body, you literally had him chained up. "This- This wretched witch," he hissed. Your presence obviously cannot respond, but your hold on him tightened, further preventing him from moving. Yuri's eyes widened upon seeing your left eye return to its normal radiance, albeit momentarily. With the seal in movement and magic, the Sorcerer was basically rendered useless. He growled as Yuri slowly approached him, "How can the Witch still have so much power despite losing her body?!" "Who said [F/N] lost everything?" Yuri spat out in response. He raises his left hand, the gun loaded and the hidden runes glowing with a faint gold and he muttered, "If only things could be different." "You won't do it, you can't kill the love of your life, your other half. If you're truly human, you w-" The Sorcerer's words don't finish. The only thing that's heard is the screams and gasps of the Sorcerer and the echo of two bullets lodging into the chest. One dead center and one just slightly off center, just barely grazing the heart. A shadow of darkness escapes your body, and you slump forward, lifelessly onto the floor. Yuri barely manages to stop you from falling face forward onto the bloodied cavern floor, and he glances around, searching for the Sorcerer's form. The Sorcerer was hovering over your form, and he growled, "You just killed off my most perfect vessel, and your other half." He huffed, and he barely manages to keep his shadowy form afloat. Hysterical laughter soon followed, and he muttered to himself, "That's fine, if I can't have her body as a vessel, I can still live as long as I'm given time to recuperate in another vessel. And you, you... your body is perfect, tempered with a witch's magic and refined by a Hunter's discipline, you'll be perfect!" The shadowy form rushes towards Yuri, much too fast for him to respond, but nothing happens. It passes through him, much like wind and Yuri's eyes widened, and the Sorcerer's voice is heard rambling throughout the entire cave. "Why? I've never failed to take over a body. Why? Why? Why? WHY? WHY?!" His form was slowly beginning to flicker from the effects of his own magic. You slowly and weakly lifted your head, a sly smirk on your lips and he howled, "YOU WRETCH." "Y-You.. will fall.. by your own devices," you wheezed. You weakly push yourself up with your good arm, and fall back onto your bottom as you stared at him defiantly. Blood trickled from the side of your lip and your left hand was limp and dead against your side. "His own devices?" Yuri repeated and the Sorcerer screamed, "You knew? But how? I altered the runes, I CHANGED EVERYTHING FOR THIS DAY." You couldn't respond, it was already getting harder to breathe with and each breath irritated a raspy cough filled with blood and mucus out of you. The Sorcerer could do nothing as he watched, and felt, his life's energy slowly fade away the longer he went without a body. I have to do something, if I can just take over that bastard of a hunter's body, I. Will. Survive. With the remaining magic he had left, he rushes dead on towards Yuri's body. The boy defiantly stares back, aquamarine orbs piercing through the shadowy ball of nothingness as he passes right through him. "It-It-It doesn't work?!" he howled in anguish and he glared at you. You were leaning against one of the pillars of his abandoned altar and screamed, "YOU WITCH, WHAT DID YOU DO?" "A simple protective spell," you rasped out. Yuri's eyes widened and he weakly asked, "Protection from Being?" You nodded, and the Sorcerer paused and he growled, "So you did know... that you and I are of the same being." You weakly nod, and with a shaky breath you mumbled, "So if I die, you die with me. And you can do nothing about it, because my Hunter will live." Yuri glanced from you to the Sorcerer and the black ball of nothingness flickered into a physical form of a cloaked figure and he muttered, "You're telling me that I will die?" He shook his head, "No, I refuse. The price to pay for that spell is too much, unless.." He paused and he chuckled. His voice no longer had the hysteria and malice laced in it, and surprisingly sounded normal, and defeated. "I see. I see. The sacrifice was us," he whispered as he felt the last bits of his life fade and he lowered his hooded head and mumbled, "I guess in the end, I still lose." You and Yuri watch with baited breath as his presence completely fades away, but with it, the balance in magic is tipped. Yuri immediately is able to read the signs and with a slight stumble, he manages to swing you into his arms as he dashes towards the exit as the cave slowly begins to rumble. Telltale signs of its crumble begins as you watched with slightly hooded lids of the ceiling of the cave collapsing on itself. The altar disappeared with a roar of rocks and sediment filling in the sealed cavern where the Sorcerer once resided. The magic is fading away rather rapidly.. a lot of it is trying to come back to this frail body, but... You let out another ragged sigh, blood spilling out with it. Yuri glances down, and you barely catch the concern and desperation in his eyes. Your lids fluttered close, and you could only pray that everything works like you hoped it would.

Master! Ela sprinted to the cave opening upon feeling your magic intensity spike immensely. Yuri carries you out, exhausted from the fight and the escape and he gently kneels down until he's sitting comfortably with you in his arms. He cradled you close to him, all in an attempt to keep you warm. As the magic in the air that was released from the imbalance tried to find a medium to exist through, your body temperature was gradually dropping as though the magic itself was sucking the life out of you. What, Ela hesitated and gently touched you with his nose, only to recoil, and he muttered, What happened? I can tell the Sorcerer's presence is gone.. does that mean? Yuri doesn't respond, but he nods instead. His answer was weak, and his hands were trembling from the immensity of his emotions and he softly whispered, "Please, save her." Ela looked at you, and his normally closed eyes open, and instead of the familiar bright arctic blue that once dazzled with life and radiance, it was dull, a mere shell of its former brilliance. The wolf gently sniffs you and mumbled, There is nothing I can do to save her... Even if I sacrifice my life for hers, it wouldn't be enough. Ela lowered his head and softly asked, Mistress.. did you foresee this outcome? Is this truly the only way for the wars to end? Your eyelids fluttered open upon hearing your familiar's voice and with your good right hand, you gently rest it on his head. You thumbed over his head and gently rubbed behind his ear. Ela let out a small whimper and leaned into your touch. Please don't leave. I haven't had a chance to get to know you long enough.. This isn't fair to us. You managed to crack a smile, but it quickly fades away as you cough out more blood, and you softly whispered, "It's a miracle I'm still barely alive... but once the magic reaches its capacity within me.. it'll all end." Yuri shook his head, and his grip on you tightened ever so slightly. He brings you closer, and you're surprised to find teardrops falling onto you. You glanced up, and he can only mutter, "Why?" His voice cracked and you can tell he's doing everything in his power to hold himself back. But it all releases like a dam that has been keeping back torrents and torrents of water. "I-I've spent a-almost my entire l-life looking f-for you," his mask of cold indifference crumbled away, and his vulnerability and heart was worn on his sleeve. "All I ever wanted was to save you from- from-" "Yuratchka." "It's not fair, why did this have to happen like this?" Yuri cried out as he sobbed against your shoulder. You bit back the tears to the best of your ability, but in the end, you lose. Your tears streamed silently down your cheeks and you can do nothing but lay there, lifeless as you could practically feel your impending doom. "I.. I'm so sorry," your voice cracked against his ear and you whispered, "I just wanted to save you.. and everyone else. I just-" you paused and you can feel the magic slowly reaching its peak, and you shuddered, "I just wanted you to be happy again, and free." Yuri immediately pulled back and he shook his head, "No, [F/N], I just found you, please." "I'm sorry," your voice was like a whisper on the wind, and if Yuri wasn't so close to you, he probably wouldn't have heard the last words, "Please know that I loved you." And I wish... that we could meet again in a better life.

#jenbean writes #agape #yuri plisetsky #reader insert #witch au #yuri on ice #yuri on ice fanfiction