#apart from the hazy ideas of 'pink' and 'lips' floating around in the back of my mind

[crossedwiress]

i wish we were all rose-colored too, my rose-colored boy

#posting this bc! why should it just sit in my drafts! #in all honestly i must have just blacked out and put this together before i fell asleep last night #bc i don't remember making it. #apart from the hazy ideas of 'pink' and 'lips' floating around in the back of my mind #so anyways #thank u for calling this beautiful and dishevelled molly im grateful for ur feedback #and helping choosing a captionnn. insert dancer emoji that i can't fucking find rn #moodboard #my moodboard #luke #aesthetic #why do i just blank every time i got to tag a mb #help #e*creations

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part five)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)

No nightmares make their way into Eddie’s mind that night, no bad memories stir in his subconscious. That night, instead, he dreams of Steve:

Steve sat in the back of Eddie’s van, lounging against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him, perpendicular to Eddie who sat against the back of the seats, legs also kicked out and propped up on top of Steve’s as they passed a joint back and forth, talking and laughing about everything and nothing. The windows and doors were closed to keep the night’s cool summer breeze out and the smoke in, the air in the van pleasantly warm and thick and hazy; their minds so too. 

Steve took a hit of the joint and attempted to blow smoke rings when he exhaled, making funny shapes with his lips and failing so spectacularly it made Eddie burst into a fit of raucous laughter. He threw his head back with it, hysterical and giggly in his high. Steve shoved at Eddie’s legs in mock offense at being laughed at, but it lacked heat, and he’d already caught the giggles from him too. 

“You’re really beautiful, you know,” Steve said, dopey smile on his face as he watched Eddie laugh. 

Eddie snorted. “And you’re really high.” He plucked the joint out of Steve’s hands, not giving the compliment much weight at all. People just say things sometimes when they’re too high, and he knew Steve’s tolerance for any sort of substance had gone way down since he’d gotten caught in that mall fire a couple weeks ago. Something to do with trauma or whatever. 

“Yeah, I’m gone,” Steve agreed, blowing a raspberry at him. “But I meant it, though,” he said. His dazed eyes drifted lazily over Eddie’s face. “I think it all the time sober too, every time you laugh or smile or the light hits you just right. You have pretty lips and pretty eyes and pretty hair.” 

“Yeah, it’s the long hair, man.” Eddie laughed, genuine but dismissive, taking a hit of the joint and saying on the exhale, “Got the wires all crossed in that lovely little head of yours. Your high brain’s just got me confused for a girl or something.” 

“No.” Steve frowned at him, bottom lip jutted out in a pretty pout as he shook his head. “I’m not confused. I don’t think you’re a girl. I think you’re a gorgeous, gorgeous boy.” 

“Hm.” Eddie took another hit, felt the weed float through his veins, cloud his mind even further. “In that case…” The smoke escaped past lips stretched into an unsuppressable grin. “You wanna know a secret?”

Steve angled his body towards him and leaned forward in interest. “Uh huh.” 

Eddie snuffed out the joint, pushed away from the back of the seats, and pulled his legs off of Steve, sitting back on his heels instead as he shifted to face Steve better and move closer. Inches apart now, Eddie brought a hand up to Steve’s cheek and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I think you’re a gorgeous, gorgeous boy too.”

Steve giggled, smile wide and cheeks pink. He hooked an arm around Eddie’s waist and swept him onto his lap, making Eddie giggle too as he was pulled in close. Their foreheads rested against each other. Steve’s heavy-lidded eyes settled on Eddie’s lips, and Eddie thought he got the hint. He leaned in, and for a second Steve leaned in too, only for him to duck away at the very last second, the would-be kiss amounting only to the barest brush of their lips. A small whine, confused and wanting, escaped involuntarily from the back of Eddie’s throat. 

“Waitwaitwait-” Steve said, one hand pressed lightly against Eddie’s chest to hold him back. “We should be sober first.” 

Eddie huffed, but agreed, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” His hand still cupped Steve’s face though, thumb running over his cheekbone as he asked, “Will you even still want to kiss me when you’re not high?” 

“Of course I will.” Steve leaned into his touch. “Will you?” 

“Of course I will. Have you seen you?” Eddie said with a light laugh. “How could I not?” 

Steve grinned, bumped his forehead against Eddie’s again. “I’m gonna kiss you breathless when we’re sober, I promise.” 

“You better.” Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek instead, for now. “I’m holding you to that, pretty boy.” 

He was rewarded with another giggle and both of Steve’s arms wrapping around him now to pull him closer to his chest. Eddie slipped an arm around Steve’s waist too and settled against him, curled up so that he could rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. His other hand dropped from Steve’s face and drifted instead to land on the bicep of the strong arms that cradled him. 

The giggly elation of their high was beginning to give way to a stoned sleepiness, the weed-soaked air draped around them like a blanket. They probably could’ve fallen asleep like that - it wouldn’t have been the first time they’d passed out back there after a smoke sesh - but the air would soon grow stale, not to mention every breath inside the hotboxed van only maintained their intoxication and Eddie kind of really wanted to be sober as soon as possible. 

“It’s getting late,” he mumbled, reluctantly pushing himself away from Steve. “We should head inside.”

“Yeah, alright.” Steve, equally reluctantly, let go of Eddie and let him leave his lap. 

They separated to climb out of the van and make their way to the trailer and back to Eddie’s room to get ready for bed, but they gravitated towards each other again, drawn together like magnets once they laid side by side under Eddie’s sheets. It was almost unconscious, really, the way they both reached out and pulled each other close. 

By the time morning came, they were completely intertwined: both of them had both arms wrapped tight around the other, their legs entangled, Steve’s head tucked beneath Eddie’s chin and face buried in his chest. Eddie idly ran his fingers through Steve’s hair; Steve stirred at the touch and muttered a muffled, “‘Morning,” which Eddie softly echoed. 

Steve pulled his head back from Eddie’s chest then and shifted himself up so that they were face to face - or, more accurately, nose to nose. “Oh.” He smiled a little. “Hi.” And Eddie echoed that too, with a matching small smile. 

“About last-” Steve started to say, at the same time Eddie began to ask, “Did you-?” They both broke off into a light chuckle. Steve shook his head and said, “Sorry, you go.” 

“Did you mean what you said last night?” Eddie asked, voice quiet and careful and hopeful. 

“Every word,” Steve replied, his gaze soft as his eyes met Eddie’s. “Did you?” 

“Every word,” Eddie confirmed. A slow grin spread across his face, and he slid his hand from Steve’s hair to trace his fingers along Steve’s jaw. “You have a promise to keep now, big boy.” 

“That I do,” Steve agreed with a smirk of his own, pulling Eddie closer.

Their lips met, properly this time. Steve kissed him gentle and sweet and slow, and Eddie all but melted into it, a syrupy warmth flooding his veins. He kissed back, matched the pace. Steve flipped them over, pressing Eddie’s back into the mattress as he deepened the kiss and settled his weight on top of him with a languid, full body roll. Eddie moaned softly beneath him, his lips parting to accept the caress of Steve’s tongue which licked into his mouth in easy, tender strokes. His hands curled in Steve’s hair again and in the fabric of his shirt, back arched in an attempt to press himself even closer as Steve continued to kiss him like he was drinking Eddie in, like Eddie was something precious and Steve was determined to savor every taste. It was dizzying, hypnotizing, thoroughly fucking intoxicating. 

When Steve finally pulled away, Eddie was pretty sure he’d forgotten how to breathe, how to speak. He stared up at him, dazed, eyes wide and mouth still open soundlessly. 

“Told you,” Steve said, a smugness in his smile, “breathless.” 

“Man of your word.” Eddie found his voice again, remembered how to pull air back into his lungs. “An attractive quality,” he murmured before tugging Steve down into another kiss. 

This one got a little more heated. It was Eddie who took control this time, and he kissed Steve with fervor. He switched their positions, rolling over so that Steve was the one lying beneath him now, Eddie’s body grinding down as he landed on top of Steve. It was not soft and neither was the sound Steve let out in response: a guttural groan that rumbled against Eddie’s lips. Eddie swallowed that sound, bit down on it, devoured it; craved more of it. He left Steve’s mouth to kiss down his neck, scraping his teeth against those stupidly biteable moles and sucking a bruise onto the skin. Steve’s breath stuttered; as Eddie paired the lovebite with another harsh grind, Steve’s hips bucked up to meet him, pulling another deep groan from them both. 

“Eddie,” Steve gasped out then. “Eddie, we should slow down.” 

Eddie immediately clambered off of him. “Right, yeah. Too much. Sorry.” He put some distance between them, sitting more towards the edge of the bed and looking away awkwardly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Steve said as he sat up and shifted closer, placing a hand over Eddie’s. “I just- I don’t want this to be just that.” His other hand reached up to turn Eddie’s face back towards him. “I want something real with you. I want to do things right.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I wouldn’t just-” Eddie shook his head and smiled softly instead, taking Steve’s hand from his face and holding it. “I want something real with you too.” 

Steve sighed, smiled with visible relief. He squeezed Eddie’s hands. “Okay, good.” 

Eddie’s stomach grumbled audibly then, and he said with a grin, “So, how about you take me out to breakfast, sweetheart, and we can go from there?”

Steve laughed. “Sounds good to me,” he said, leaning in to give Eddie one more lingering kiss first. 

Eddie wakes up wanting, a deep ache in his heart like there’s something missing now that he’s awake. Steve is still holding his hand, and Eddie looks over to see the guy passed out in the bedside chair, head lolled to one side, mouth open, a line of drool crusted down his chin. It’s disgusting. It’s fucking adorable. The ache in his heart twinges.

“Goddamnit,” Eddie groans to himself. He knows what this is. He’s got a fucking crush. On Steve fucking Harrington. Of all people. Of course he does. 

For all his anti-jock rhetoric, even for all his protests yesterday about not being obsessed, Eddie always did have a sort of fascination with Steve Harrington in high school. More of a passing fancy, really. He thought Steve was attractive, sure, but in the way a celebrity is attractive - unobtainable and unreal - so it was always more like Steve was just his favorite reality TV show rather than an actual crush. But now Steve is real, and worst of all, he’s kind. King Steve Intangible Hot Asshole Jock Harrington is now Sweet Lovely Gorgeous Goofy Perfect Steve who holds Eddie’s hand when he’s scared and tells stupid jokes to make him laugh and always seems to know exactly what he needs, so of course Eddie never stood a single goddamn chance. Of course Eddie only had to spend one fucking day with this man for his old teenage fascination to trip and start falling for him, for Eddie to start having stupid, sappy dreams about him. 

Because Eddie’s sure that’s all it was. No way was that dream a memory; his brain was just taking bits and pieces of what Steve had said yesterday and filling in the blanks with fantasy. Dumb, sweet, soft, romantic fantasy. Complete with fucking yearning and shit. 

Eddie groans again. Why couldn’t it have just been a sex dream? He knows how to handle sex dreams. Sex dreams don’t come with actual feelings. 

Steve begins to rouse then, probably stirred awake by all Eddie’s grumbling. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Eddie says as Steve lifts his head and wipes the crusted drool from his mouth. 

“Eddie?” Steve rubs his eyes with one hand, then blinks and squeezes Eddie’s hand with his other as his face breaks into a smile. “Hey, you slept through the night!”

Eddie snorts. “You don’t have to make it sound like I’m your infant child reaching a milestone.” He puts on a slight character voice, pitching up his inflection, “‘Baby Eddie slept through the night for the very first time! Mommy Steve was finally able to get some rest!’” 

“Ew.” Steve wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, even as he scoffs out a laugh. “Do not call me mommy.” 

“Oh, sorry, would you prefer daddy?” Eddie asks with a smirk and raised eyebrows. Because he’s stupid and has no fucking filter. 

“Uh-” That startles a nervous chuckle out of Steve, pretty pink blush blooming in his cheeks. Then he closes his eyes for a moment, shakes his head again, and takes a breath to regain his composure. “Yeah, no, that’s not my thing either.” 

“Noted,” Eddie says, and then physically bites his own tongue to stop himself from asking something even more stupid like so what is your thing then? 

“Anyways-” Steve seems a little desperate to change the subject. “No nightmares last night?” 

“Nah.” Eddie taps his fingers against Steve’s hand. “You’ve got some sort of magic touch, man. I never have nightmares when I fall asleep with your hands on me.” 

Steve smiles at that, a small thing. “Told you I’d fight them off.” 

“Man of your word,” Eddie mutters. His heart gives a little lurch as he echoes his dream, a reaction which is consequently made clear and apparent for anyone to see by the immediate uptick of beeping from his heart monitor. So that’s going to be a problem. 

“Yeah-” Steve glances at the monitor, then back at Eddie, a concerned pinch between his brows (Eddie wants to reach up and smooth it away; his heart only beats faster). “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Eddie glares accusingly at the heart monitor, like it’s betrayed him on purpose. “I don’t know why it’s doing that.” 

Steve doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? I can go get someone to check on you-” He starts to stand like he means to leave, but Eddie tightens his grip on his hand so he can’t get too far. 

“I said I’m fine, Steve,” Eddie insists, a little sharper than he meant to. He takes a breath, smooths the edge off his voice. “A slightly increased heart rate is not gonna kill me, alright? You don’t have to worry about me so much.” 

“I always worry about you,” Steve mutters. Though he does settle back into his chair, he keeps eyeing the heart monitor and worriedly chewing on his lip - as if that’s going to help Eddie’s racing heart situation. 

“Okay, you gotta stop doing that, man.” 

“What?” 

“Acting all nervous like I’m about to drop dead,” Eddie says. “You’re stressing me out. No wonder my heart’s beating faster.” 

“Right, sorry.” Steve looks away from the monitor and releases his lip from between his teeth, bitten red and plump now. Jesus. 

Eddie breathes in slowly. He can be calm, he can be cool. He takes another few breaths until his heart rate finally starts to chill the fuck out and the monitor stops beeping so incessantly. “See, I’m totally fine.” 

“Yeah.” Steve relaxes visibly. He squeezes Eddie’s hand, gives an apologetic smile. “Of course you are. Sorry I stressed you out.” 

“That’s alright.” Eddie smiles back with a shrug, brushing it off. “Means you care, Stevie. I appreciate it.”

Steve’s expression turns warm then, and about 95% of Eddie’s higher brain functioning is now completely focused on trying to keep his heartbeat steady under the glow of Steve’s smile and the warmth of his hand. He doesn’t even hear whatever it is Steve says in response, just lets the timbre of his voice wash over him. It sounds like something soft, something kind, but not something that requires a reply, so Eddie stays quiet and continues to count each beat of his heart in the easy silence that settles over them. 

~ 

Steve can’t decide if he wants to stay right here forever, holding Eddie’s hand and making sure he’s alright, or if he still wants to run so far from the ache it leaves in his chest. 

Hanging out with Eddie yesterday had been overwhelmingly bittersweet. It felt so good to laugh with him again, to talk with him the way they used to, to see his face all lit up and happy. It felt so good to know that Eddie wanted him there, that he enjoyed spending time with him. There were moments that set Steve’s heart aglow, moments so effortless, so simple, so them, that he could forget, just for a second, all that was still missing between them. But each good feeling came with a stinging aftertaste of grief as Steve would remember and he felt the difference in the depth of their affection like a great gaping chasm, vast and black and bleak. 

His emotions are frayed, all stretched and pulled in so many different directions at the same time. He wants and he worries and he aches and he loves; desire and despair.

Time makes his decision for him, though, as he catches sight of the clock on the wall and suddenly remembers, “Shit- I have to go, sorry. I promised Robin I’d finally come back to work today so she’d stop having to be stuck on shifts with Keith,” Steve says, starting to stand. 

“Oh.” Eddie blinks like he’s been startled out of a trance. A brief disappointment flashes across his face. “Okay.” 

“I’ll be back tonight, though,” Steve promises with a reassuring squeeze of his hand. “Soon as I can.” 

The corners of Eddie’s mouth tug up into a small smile then. “Yeah, I know you will.” He lifts Steve’s hand to press a kiss to the back of it before letting go. “You’re my good luck charm.”

It’s such a small, innocent thing, but it wrenches Steve’s heart. The feeling of Eddie’s lips lingers on his skin like it’s haunting him, taunting him; the barest trace of something that once was, a ghost of what he’s lost. It’s almost cruel. Steve hates it, and he aches for it. 

He’s quick to leave the room before Eddie can see the tears in his eyes. Steve knows Eddie doesn’t like to see him sad.

(part six) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

#fun and interesting new developments #i am dragging this shit out sorry lmao. not too much longer tho #i'm thinking this'll probably have maybe 3 more parts to it? we'll see. #steddie #steddie angst #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #fanfic #mine #dyfamsteddiefic

[starlit-scarlet]

Reflection

Pairing: Levi X Fem Reader

Rating: Explicit/NSFW/18+ Only

Word Count: ~1.6k

Content: Mirror sex, vaginal sex, dirty talk

All around the apartment complex, people lived out their lives, content in remaining in their own little world. Whether it be with family, with loved ones, or with friends, everyone enjoyed unwinding in the way they knew best.

The little family on the second floor—you regularly babysit their kids on the weekend—settling down for dinner. The sounds of laughter and childlike chatter mixing with the clinking of silverware against plates filling the little two-bedroom apartment

The elderly couple—the one that never failed to give you a friendly hello—relaxing in their living room, watching their favorite tv show. It was some comedy show, but they didn’t care, simply wanting to enjoy their time together...something you could relate to.

The college roommates—the ones that never failed to burn their popcorn—playing some new video game together. You’d seen how strong their friendship was, the way they always made time to hang out with each other, even with the busyness of their lives.

Other families were settled outside in the little playground of your complex, watching their kids play together, chatting about their day. Some families within the building had different friend groups, but their kids seemed to get along for the most part, sharing toys, playing on the swings and sliding together. Parents were quick to correct if a child misbehaved or was unfair to another, working to teach them the rules of the world using each experience as a learning opportunity.

Yes, all of these people were living their lives, moving about their day, completely oblivious to the events currently taking place in a particular apartment.

Yours.

One that you shared with him, your gruff, raven-haired lover.

Currently astride his lap, back pressed against his chest, your whimpers and mewls filled the room around you as he took you on the couch of your living room. The late evening sunlight filtered in through the windows, sending a warm glow across your body, highlighting the way your legs were draped on either side of his, spreading you wide so he could admire your reflection in the mirror as he pounded up into you.

Pressing his lips to your ear, kissing the shell, he succeeded in sending a shiver throughout your body. “That’s it, baby, look how good you take it.”

His gentle hold beneath your chin kept your gaze locked on the mirror, and you were helpless to look away, taking in the way his cock glided in and out of you. Each thrust into you coupled with the sight of it sent ripples of pleasure pulsing through you, drawing heated moans from between your lips. Hips held in place by his arm, you were at his mercy, your own arm coming up to loop around his neck as you let yourself be swept away by the onslaught of sensations hitting you.

Fuck and you wondered why you’d ever been hesitant about putting a mirror in the living room in the first place. It had seemed like such a strange idea at first, even though it wasn’t all that unusual to have one. And when he’d told you he wanted to fuck you in front of the mirror...you hadn’t known what to say.

‘Let me show you how you look when I fuck you. Want you to see yourself, the way I see you.’

It had been the most mind-boggling thing he’d ever said, yet, you were glad you’d agreed as you took in the way his calloused fingers gripped at your hip, arm holding you in place while he thrusted up inside you. The sight of his slickened cock sliding into your wet heat was more arousing than you’d ever imagined, and you whimpered at the sight of it, the erotic nature of watching him bury his length into you driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” His voice was strained, the deep timbre taking on a husky tone, telling you he was just as affected. “Watch how beautiful you look taking my cock. Fuck, you take it so well, baby.”

The words were almost as dizzying as the feel of him moving inside you. Almost. But nothing could ever compare to his thick, hard length pulsing within you.

Seemingly satisfied that you wouldn’t glance away from the mirror, he removed his grasp from your face so he could graze his fingertips across your body, lighting the skin aflame with each barely there touch. Moving to cup your breast, he kneaded at the tender flesh, brushing his thumb against your rigid nipple, eliciting a desperate and needy moan from you.

Gaze dragging up your reflection, it was exhilarating to see your flushed body, the ripples of pleasure moving across you in time with the sensation of them. Lips parted, face tinted pink with arousal, your breasts bounced with each of his thrusts, and for the first time, it felt as if you were seeing yourself through his eyes, the way he saw you.

Just as he’d wanted.

And in his eyes?

You were beautiful.

Gorgeous.

Sexy.

Of course he’d told you all of that and more, slowly becoming more and more comfortable with compliments as your relationship progressed. But to experience watching yourself, the way he did, was on a completely different level. One that was more arousing than you could have ever expected.

Feeling his gaze on yours, you glanced at his face resting against your shoulder, his eyes boring into yours as he picked up the pace of his thrusts, drawing more needy mewls from you. You were trapped in those hypnotizing, bewitching eyes, the searing blue-gray of them full of lust and desire for you.

He tutted at you. “No baby, look at yourself, not me. Look at how pretty you look stuffed full with my cock.”

Despite the teasing words, you could hear the strain in his voice, and it had you smirking at him, though it quickly faded when you felt that familiar knot tightening within you, so close to release, so close to the bliss only he could give you. The reaction you gave him only fueled his smirk, as he drove even faster into you, the slick sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room to mingle with your moans and his grunts.

Gaze dropping back down to where you were joined, watching as his glistening length slid into you, stretching you, his thrusts turning lazy now as he slowly worked you up to peak. The sudden change in pace had you whimpering, gripping tight at the arm he had wrapped around you, desperately needing the release you could feel looming. Somehow the teasing pace worked even more to fuel your arousal, your need for him.

Breath hitching as you watched his hand slide from your breast so he could rub at your clit, the leisurely pace at which he did so driving you insane as you squirmed against his hold—though to no avail of course. A little mewl escaped you at the golden tipped arrows that rippled from where he touched to land at the ever winding coil.

Shuddering at how close you were, your eyes fluttered closed as you gave yourself over to the sensations he was giving you.

“Don’t you dare close your eyes,” he growled into your ear. “Watch how beautiful you are when you come on my cock.”

Eyes shooting open, his words were all it took to shove you over the edge, your back arching against his chest as your hips spasmed against him, convulsing around his length buried deep within you. It was a struggle to keep your eyes opened, but you managed to do so, watching the way your entire body flushed with arousal, quivering and trembling in the midst of your orgasm. Somehow, the pleasure was heightened at the sight of your mouth having dropped further open, high-pitched pants spilling from your lips as you rode out the waves.

Eyes half-lidded and hazy, you were helpless to look away as you watched yourself get swept away by the gratifying release brought by him. Your hand had fisted into his hair, clutching tight, needing something to ground you as your body threatened to soar. The nails of your other hand were digging into his arm, leaving behind deep crescents in his forearm while his calloused fingertips continued their fierce circles against your clit, prolonging the orgasm.

So consumed by your own rippling pleasure, you didn’t even notice the way he’d pressed his face against your shoulder, the way his hand squeezed down on your hip, struggling to stave off his own release at the way you clamped down on him.

For how long you remained that way, you had naught a clue, a quivering moth trapped in the eternal flame that was Levi, and all you could do was whimper, moan, and twitch at the waves that continued to crash over you. But oh, what a place to be caught.

Finally, you slowly came down, body slumping back onto his, eyes fluttering closed as you no longer had the strength to keep them open. Through the floating fog that had formed in your mind, you heard his chuckle, felt the vibrations against your back, and it had a satisfied smile forming on your face, your lower lip caught between your teeth.

A squeak escaped you when he flipped you onto your back, his body pressing yours into the couch as he teased the corners of your mouth with his lips, his silky bangs tickling across your face. You blinked up at him, taking in the smirk on his face that had desire curling deep once again.

As if it ever ceased.

His husky voice filled the room as he whispered against your lips, a gasp spilling from you when he slid into you. “I’m hardly finished with you yet.”

The words drew a giggle from you, followed by a moan at the feel of him filling you.

It was a good thing you weren’t either.

You never were.

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#smut #levi x reader #attack on titan #modern au #shingeki no kyojin

[dienamights]

Ellipsism | K.Bakugou

Ellipsism: A sadness that you’ll never be able to know how history will turn out.

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 1.9K

» Genre: Angst 

» Summary: In a world where everyone is born with a unique tattoo on their ankle, and every time they fall in love with someone, their tattoo appears somewhere else on the body of the person they love. You come to the realization that it might not be as simple as that, and all your childhood dreams would come and bite you in the ass.

» Warning(s): ANGST, mentions of self-harm.

» Author’s notes: Listen, I don’t particularly like angst, but I love the way it hurts, y’know? Not sure if I want this to have a happy ending or not (in a second part) and honestly I’m leaning towards the latter, I love pain and I have no idea what would happen. Also, peep the “tattoo” in the header its relevant to the story ahaha

Thank you everyone for the support and love, it means the world to me that people enjoyed my Kacchan representation! Lemme give you smooches.

Big smooches to @tteokdoroki and @sightoru for making me feel good about hurting them🤧❤️

» Masterlist | Requests

The sun had awakened and was promptly emerging through the hazy sky. The cloudy layer created a gloomy blanket from the sun. You jolted awake, your neck aching from your sleeping position and you twisted your head side to side to relieve some of the pain, before reaching for your phone and holding the bright screen to your face to check the time. Alas, the screen was turned off without registering the time nor how long were you asleep for.

You lifted your eyes to see the grey out the window in front of you. With that fog, the trees and buildings never ended, they floated upwards, seemingly as endless as beanstalks. Reaching your head back, it met the wooden counter. You were in the kitchen, fell asleep on the floor and slumped against the counters, the empty bottle laying across from you a reminder of the event that transpired the previous night - maybe morning? You didn't really know.

You lazily extended your legs in front of you, eyeing your sock-clad feet and the tattoo that peaked from the clothing. Blooming lilacs that danced and branched out, the stem wrapping around your ankle oh so loosely, almost teasingly. Lilacs that represented happiness and tranquility, which you have never felt more far from. 

Remembering the old days, the better days, you with your poofy dress, so blindingly pink it demanded everyone's attention, giggling with your friends that adorned similar attire to yours, showing each other the tattoos that hugged your ankles, in endless shapes and sizes, dreaming about who the lucky person you’ll share your tattoo with would be, who was lucky enough to capture your heart and claim it as their own, and offering theirs in return.

Bedtime stories were your favorite quality time with your mother, where you’d both forget about the story cradled in her hands and you’d spend your night tracing the few tattoos that scattered across her arms. Asking her how could she love so many people and have them love her in return before loving her husband - your father - the only person she was meant to be with, only to wait with bated breath for an answer you already heard so many times you probably memorized it by now. You’d be entranced at the way her eyes always softened, a light gleaming in them as she would explain to you, again and again, with no sign of ever getting bored, how she have never and would never regret the people she loved, because in some twisted way of the universe, it led her to the father of her beautiful child, that snuggled her in her princess bed. 

Alas, asking her how you came to the world received a totally different reaction, and you refrained from asking her that again until later on in life.

Whenever your grandma visited, you’d run to hug her old and withered body, apologizing when she would howl about her aching back and dragging her to sit with the excuse to help her rest, but you both knew you wanted to hear stories, your teenage self was so ready to fall in love, so excited to have a piece of someone you adored with all your heart decorating your skin, inking it in the most beautiful forms of promise.

She always made her past lovers sound like prince charmings right out of a novel, the kind of guys with the power and confidence that seemed perfect in every way. The kind of guys schoolgirls woke up and went to school for in the morning. The kind of guys that hit women of all ages right between the eyes every time they were seen and stirred up their fantasies.

And by God, did you not realize that your grandmother wasn't spewing bullshit after all these years, because there he was, a storm in each step he took, fire in his knuckles erupting and seething with fierceness. He was an explosion of bare, raw, real mystery. A soft caress of the wind, warm sand, and pure silence. He was colors and textures and shapes and designs, all combined together in an artistic canvas that thrived for attention but wouldn't stoop to admitting it. 

You remembered the day your lilacs embellished his shoulder, shyly peeking through his hero suit, claiming everyone’s attention on their petals as they swayed on his skin, the attention of the media as the shoulder of the hero, Dynamight, was showcased on social media, people envying whoever was able to capture the exploding hero’s heart.

As if he wasn’t capable of love, they didn't see what you saw, they will never have the privilege, because when he dropped the façade of the hero, he’d come home to you, knock on your apartment door and you’d flee to open it to him to lay your eyes on him, a tired laugh, sore muscles, a teasing glint in crimson eyes, golden hair tasseled after a sleepless night. He was secure embraces oozing with warmth. He was toughness and hardness, perfectly mixed in with trust and care.

It was at that day it happened, in the middle of the living room while the newsman was talking nonsense about the hero, the warmth wrapped around your wrist, gripping it like a vice with no intention of letting go; yes it burned, you remembered the sting, it just paled in comparison to the warmth in your chest, the warmth of the tears escaping your eyes as you held your wrist close to your chest, happily whispering about how this was what love felt like. You also recalled that it was at that exact moment the hero, your hero, walked into your apartment, dropping everything and running the small distance to your hunched body to grab at your wrist to inspect the damage he thought was done to it.

Only for his eyes to meet that one wretched inking he loathed all his life, the - meaningless doodles, he’d call them - that blemished his skin, he remembered the remarks, how no one would be able to share that blotch of his with him because who could ever love him? Who could ever endure him, with all of that ego and all of that anger? And as time passed, he believed it, he believed them, that he wasn’t worthy to be loved, that he was only meant to save, not be saved as well, not even from himself.

But there you were, there you fucking were, crying and laughing and struggling to breath as you repeated the words you’ve been dying to confess, 

“I love you, Katsuki.”

Suddenly, that speckle that was always hidden under his socks brought him happiness, brought him love, and damn did he deserve it, because he fought for it, he endured hell for it, and there you were, wrapped around his arm and repeating those three words against his lips between heated kisses.

He was pleasure and lust. Rough groans and mutual needs. A burning touch. Your name hanging by his lips, breathless kisses and hair-tugging and hot flesh against hot flesh.

He was an illusion you thought it'll never materialize, and yet here he was. 

Here he was, all highs and lows, smiles and frowns, softness and roughness, carefulness and danger. Here he was, a tiny spark of thunder, sparkling with passion, loyalty and dedication, protection, satisfaction, confidence and love.

Here he was…

Where was he?

The inking you used to spend hours admiring now haunts you, the design that used to whirl and twirl across your wrist as you hummed while tracing it now felt like shackles, squeezing so tight against you as you tried to break free. The black almost shrouded by the coats of metallic red that spilled from your attempts of escape. The dark crimson that matches his eyes, the eyes you know you won't forget, you know you don't want to forget, no matter how you’ll feel better if you do.

The girl staring right at you through the distorted reflection created by the dishwasher judged you, all mangled and blurry, yet the tear stains and numb eyes are hard to ignore, easily cutting through the deformed reflection.

You and the girl in front of you envied your friend, the aromantic that was never interested to fall in love, only possessing their own tattoo that graced their ankle, with no one else's accompanying it, sure it looked lonely on some days, but who were you to judge?

You remembered what they always told you, that it wasn't always the fairy tales your family fed you. They told you about their mother, who had an affair and fell in love, spending almost a year hiding the tattoo of her fling from her husband before being caught, they told you how their father was broken beyond repair, he who also was so drunk on the idea of falling in love and being loved in return, just like you were for all those years. They told you of the heart break that you might have to face when your partner’s inking is embedded into you, but not the other way around, how you had to decide whether to wait for your own personal design to mark its location onto them or leave, always being haunted by the part of them that you can't get rid of, no matter what you do.

They never told you about this kind of heartbreak though, the one where you’re both so in love, so happy, destined to be together forever, because what could possibly go wrong?

You never got the answer to that, you remembered asking him as he dragged his suitcase out of the apartment, the tears cascading down his face never answered you as he apologized again and again, mumbled how you deserved to be loved by someone that wasn’t him, babbled about him not deserving you. About how he won’t ever love someone besides you when he caught your eye scanning whatever was visible of his arms, in fear of finding out a piece of someone that wasn't yourself.

You finally got up, legs numb and steps wobbly from sitting on the floor for so long, you eyed the door, still unlocked after his leave a couple of hours ago - maybe more it's still unclear - no urge of yours strong enough to get you up to lock it again. You moved slowly, as if the shuffle of your feet is causing you pain, and in a way, it did, because you know when you reach the living room couch, there won't be the warm arms that engulfed you, because what else did you have other than the warmth you surrounded yourself with when you told him to hold you close to him?

That's right, nothing. 

As you laid down on the couch and allowed yourself to be suffocated by the scent of caramel, you cursed at all the fantasies and dreams that clouded your mind day and night, you frowned and scrunched your nose at the scent that used to mean love and warmth, but now only burnt your nose and teared up your eyes.

A constant reminder, just like the defaced wrist you brought closer to inspect and hissing when the cold air bit at it. You recalled the lilacs and swore at them, the same lilacs that symbolized love and passion, but looking more withered and torn the more you looked at them.

Good, guess they know how I feel.

Borrowers (taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

#tw: self harm #this shit hurted #i know theres like one sentence of dialog in here #speed past that #I WANTED EMOTIONS #AND PAIN #katsuki angst #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou angst #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #nami writes

[ssa-sugar-tits]

Before It's Too Late

Request: this one

Have this scenario in mind: Hotch is working on a case where the victims look like the reader and he feels he should tell her his feelings before it's too late like what happened to his ex wife. Smutty or fluffy, it's your decision

Pairing: Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner x Reader

Content warnings: canon typical violence (torture/murder), mutilation, cursing, mentions of haley's death, smut, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex

a/n: yeahh we're doing the classic there's only one bed shit. enjoy, my horny lovelies.

The entire team saw it, instantly. When JJ pulled up the victims with an uneasy gaze. They looked like you. All four women. You saw yourself in their cold, dead eyes. Your hair matched theirs too under the bloodstains. Hell, they could all be your sisters. The only difference was the glaringly obvious: the terror spilled all over those poor women's faces before they'd been tortured and murdered.

Wheels up in 20.

Hotch's meaningless words echo in your head as you stare deeper and deeper into your victim's eyes.

Hotch sits at his desk, the team's leaving in 10 minutes. He can't shake what everyone knows damn well. The women. They look like Y/N. They look like his clandestine love, Y/N. Hotch won't let anything happen to you, he'll die a thousand times before that happens. But he can still feel Haley's heavy, limp body in his arms and his heart shattering. It took a long time but piece by piece, you put it back together and now you hold Aaron Hotchner's heart in your oblivious hands.

"Y/N, we're leaving," Emily yells to you, walking with JJ out to the jet. You're forced to leave your trance and join the others. You feel hazy and have to focus your breathing as you take a seat next to Hotch.

"Hey babygirl, you're on." Derek places a laptop down with Garcia's live image displayed. Quickly looking up at the team and not wanting to show any sign of weakness, you share your thoughts.

"Well clearly, our guy's got a type. Same ethnicity, hair color, even the lip shape is insanely similar. I'm thinking surrogate." Receiving nods from the team, you hope precariously the profilers beside you don't notice how you're doing everything you can to avoid looking at the crime scene photos. Hotch agrees with you, not looking up from his file for fear of showing just how miserable the very idea of something happening to you is making him.

"Y/L/N is right. Garcia, start by looking at men in the area 20 to 40 years old who are related or romantically involved with a woman fitting the physical parameters of our victims. It'll be long but somewhere to start."

"Yes sir!" Penelope says enthusiastically, already beginning to click away at her keyboard. JJ stays at the back of the jet, making a phone call and Emily speaks up.

"Actually Penelope, cut that down to only romantic involvement. The torture and mutilation of the women's genitals is an act of sex in itself, I doubt he'd be doing that for a mother or sister. And the rage is evident so focus on recent breakups or rejections." Rejection. Why does that word stand out to Hotch?

"Very helpful, my raven-haired beauty," she chirps. "We are down to... 2700 matches!"

The word rejection still makes its way, floating around Hotch's mind like an annoying song he can't get out of his head. That's it, isn't it? You're the song he can't get out of his head. A song he loves, one that may not feel the same way. A song he can't lose.

"Garcia, try looking for large places of residence. Our unsub wouldn't torture in an apartment where neighbors can hear or in a house with other people around." Reid says.

"Look for areas with basements, sheds, garden houses, and such." Rossi adds.

"Hit you back later! P.G. out," she signs off.

Instead of, as he probably should be, doing his job, Hotch lets himself get lost in his thoughts. Thoughts about what happened to Haley, what could happen to you.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Those three gunshots ring in his mind.

Is this why your marriage fell apart, Aaron?

Foyet's words taunt him. How can he let himself love someone again? After failing Haley, at the cost of her life? At the cost of Jack losing his mother.

"Hotch?" you tap him lightly. "We landed, the team's outside."

"Thank you." He gathers his things, taking a quick deep breath.

"Sir," you say it with a careful tone. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine Y/L/N," he reassures you quickly and starts to leave but looks back at you. "Are you? We've all noticed that the victims...."

He trails off but you know what he's talking about.

"It's scary," you admit. "Definitely offputting, but I'll manage."

"If you need anything, let me know."

Your heart skips a beat. He's only being a good boss, you tell yourself.

"Thank you Aaron."

A rare sight, Hotch smiles at you. It's the first time you've called him by his first name.

The team sets up in the precinct and it's a slow day for the case, all in all. The suspect list is narrowed, slowly but surely, and interviews are conducted but no arrests are made. Most of your friends have turned in for the night, urging you to get some rest but you can't. Not when you're-- and you hate to admit it-- fucking scared. How could you possibly not be? Every time you look at the bloody photos, it's almost like looking into a future mirror. Hotch stays in the next room, alone. Gazing down at the file, he has to wonder. Is it really protecting you if he hides his feelings for you? Or is it a selfish attempt to guard his own fucked up fears? He doesn't have time to think about it much, interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Hotch?" You call.

"Come in, Y/L/N."

The object of his misery enters.

"I'm going back to the hotel for the night, I came to see if you wanted to ride back with me." Saying it confidently, not worrying he'll know your true desires. He almost objects but can't resist, especially not when he's made the decision to tell you before it's too late. To tell you he loves you.

"Give me a few minutes, I'll meet you outside."

"Got it," you smile genuinely, pleased that he agreed.

Checking into the hotel, the owner gives you a key, saying it's their last available room. Not a problem, you think. You step into the elevator and notice a hitch in Hotch's breathing.

"Y/L/N, I need to speak with you regarding something."

He cringes at his own words. How formal does a goddamn love confession need to be? This is stupid, what is he even doing?

"I'm not in trouble, am I?" you laugh, unlocking the room. He doesn't respond but one thing catches your eye when you walk in. You turn to face Hotch and your face is mere inches from his, able to feel the heat of each other's body.

"Hotch," you breathe out your words, low and shaky, feeling the tension you'd convinced yourself you'd been imagining all this time. "There's only one bed."

"That there is." He says calmly, not breaking eye contact. With a small burst of confidence, you place a hand on his rising chest.

"What'd you want to talk about, Aaron?" He almost moans just at the way his name sounds on your precious lips.

"This," he growls. You don't resist when he grabs your face to mash his lips against yours. In fact, you throw yourself on top of his and deepen the kiss. Without breaking the kiss, you push him onto the bed and straddle him. You take grip of his shoulders and he wraps his hands around your waist. He grunts and you take the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, attacking his with yours. Hotch tilts his head to have more access to your mouth and you feel his growing bulge against your thigh. You throw him down and smirk as he stares lustfully.

"Is this what you want Aaron?" you tease. He doesn't give you an answer, only exhaling and undoing his belt.

"Y/N, I need you." he pants, hungrily.

"Yes sir."

Pulling down his strained boxers with one swift movement, your mouth salivates at the sight of his already hard cock. His pink head glistens with precum and you bring your head down to swipe your tongue on it, making sure he's watching you.

"Fuck," Hotch moans, grasping a handful of your hair. You slide your mouth down on his cock, moaning against him and stroking what you can't fit with your hand. A long noise escapes him and he grips your head tighter while you bob your head up and down.

"Just like that baby, so good Y/N."

"Mmm," you hum, savoring every moan that travels from his mouth. Tears pricking your eyes, you take him down your throat determined to taste every inch of him, making him hum with delight. Cupping his balls in your hand, you work on him with your hands and mouth at the same time and you feel him near the edge. You pull your head up from him, a string of saliva connecting your lips and his dick.

"I was close," he mutters roughly. You lift your shirt over your shoulders and pull down your skirt, leaving you in your lacy white bra and panties set. Glad I wore something nice, you think. When he sees your body hovering over him, he's a man captivated. Rapidly, he unclasps your bra and takes in the view, starting to knead them sensually.

"Fuck me, Aaron." you command, somehow sounding sweetly. Hotch pins your wrists above your head and kisses you again, like he's waited his whole life to have you. He takes hold of your hips and moves your underwear to the side, holding his shaft to enter you. You moan in sync and he enters your pussy all the way.

"Aaron, fuck."

"You feel so good, baby." He praises.

"God yes!" you scream with his first thrust. "Fuck me as hard as you can, please sir."

You plead and Hotch complies. As he fucks you faster, moaning all the while, his hands tighten on you. You're sure he'll leave bruises for the morning but you don't care experiencing the pleasure you have right now. His fingers roll your nipple in his hand, pinching and squeezing lightly and he thrusts hard and passionate.

"I'm gonna cum," you warn and your pussy's blissful walls tighten around his nearing cock.

"Me too Y/N," he grunts. Exploding inside of you, he throws his head back messily and moans, pushing you over the edge. Your juices drip down your thighs and Hotch pulls out of you.

Breathing heavily, neither of you say a word. Only holding on desperately to any last drop of what you just did.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm in love with you."

You stare into his deep brown eyes, still floating internally and inhaling the smell of sex. You trail a hand down his firm arm. It wasn't in your head.

"I'm in love with you too, Aaron."

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch hotchner #agent hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch smut #hotch fanfiction #hotch imagine

[carelessannie]

here’s the last part of my Mermay Winteriron AU but I’m gonna be super honest, it’s the end, but with an asterisk for editing. Please read it, but know I’m completely aware of all mistakes.

while we’re devoting full time to floating chapter three: no time will be better

Rating: T (for now) Word Count: 4.5K Relationships: Tony x Bucky Warnings: Non-graphic violence, Alexander Pierce, implied smut, my poor editing Read on AO3 Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

- - -

As he watches Tony leave the room, Bucky reclines on a nearby boulder, admiring his array of gifts in the mirror. When he’s completely alone, he faces himself in the mirror, closes his eyes, and tries to remember.

He had stopped doing this around Tony a few weeks ago, since every time he focused on the hazy, slippery memories, a sharp and crippling pain would pierce his temples, slamming the door shut on the places in his mind that had seemed so close, so accessible only moments before. Tony thinks it’s residual trauma, but Bucky knows that’s only half of the truth. He knows that something, or someone, is keeping him from his memories. And every time Bucky would clutch his head, riding the waves of pain and agony, Tony would worry and worry and worry.

So now, it’s only when he’s alone that he can try. He starts gradually, retracing his memories with Tony over the past weeks, focusing on the joy and the warmth they bring. Then he follows the warmth, remembering his brother’s smile, the rare laughter from Natasha, Alpine’s soft fur— fuck!

The door slams shut, erasing the feeling and memory completely, shocking the sensation right out of him— until all he can remember is pain, pain, pain. He breathes steadily and slowly comes back to himself, unsure of what led him to the painful recovery in the first place. In the mirror, his eyes are red and cheeks are flushed. Oh, Tony likes the flush.

Tony. Where’s Tony? Bucky looks around— he could have sworn they were just… they were…

As he turns to survey the room again, a dull, throbbing ache radiates from his chest. Oh! When he looks down, he sees… nipple clamps? They’re quite beautiful, floating a few inches in front of him and gently clipped to his already abused nipples. What could they have been getting up to with nipple clamps? Bucky pulls on them and groans— he’s never worn a pair before, but he could get used to this feeling.

Bucky looks into the mirror again. He’s never worn this much jewelry before, even when… when… He should probably take it off. They aren’t practical for…

When he blinks aware, Bucky can tell minutes have passed. There’s a pile of jewels and metals on the dressing table in front of him, but he can’t remember if they belong to him. Or to… Tony. Fuck, where’s Tony?

He tries to walk over to the bed and sit down, but crashes into the wall. Why did his legs— ow, fuck!— his tail…

Bucky settles on the bed and curls up, breathing deeply and wishing that Tony would come back. Maybe they could walk through the gardens together, eat more of the weird fish, forget about… forget…

“Prince James, would you come with us, please?”

Oh, that’s him. Bucky lifts his head and finds a few guards, armed and dangerous, floating near the doorway. They are all holding serrated weapons, and the one who spoke looks serious.

Carefully, he sits up and swims over to the guards, looking around in confusion, “Where… where’s Tony?”

“The Prince is otherwise occupied. It is by the King’s decree that you are to be escorted from the Kingdom, never to return.”

“Oh. Okay, can I just…”

The guard grabs Bucky’s arm, pulling him towards the doorway and motioning for the other armed guards to surround him. They push him forward and swim down the halls— halls that feel familiar, feel important, but are unknown to Bucky.

When they swim out into the courtyard, Bucky can see a group of Merpeople floating together by the gates. As they approach, he catches a glimpse of the two Mer in the center, locked arm in arm, and smiling at each other. They look so happy. The smaller Merman is familiar looking— handsome with dark hair, a glowing ring hanging around his neck and a ruby red tail. The larger Merman also looks familiar, but in a negative way. Bucky can’t place the yellow, almost white, hair and piercing blue eyes. Blue eyes that are reflected in the smaller Mer’s face, causing his irises to light up unnaturally blue where there should be deep chocolate—

Another shove to his back, and his concentration breaks. He glances back over, smiling to see two Mermen embracing, clearly in love. How sweet, how beautiful.

There’s another gap, and Bucky is picking through the sand, curious about the crustaceans underneath...

Another gap, and he’s in a cave, scraping his nails down the wall, digging for…

Another gap, and he’s floating on his back, watching little dots of light in a blackened abyss…

Another gap, and he’s inspecting patterns of soft fabric, woven together and perfectly even…

Another gap, and he can’t get free. His limbs are tangled and caught, and it’s a lot of effort to fight…

Another gap, and there’s a brilliant white figure in front of him, barking loudly and bathing his face with a scratchy pink tongue...

Another gap, and faces swim in his vision, sounds bombard his ears. He touches a face, soft and familiar, but it slips away. He’s lifted up and dropped, touched and turned. Gold and white and fiery red flash in front of him…

He blinks a few times, and feels soft fingers on his temples. There’s a low chanting in front of him, and everything is warm, radiating from his head, just behind his ears. Bucky takes a deep breath for the first time in weeks, sighing as Natasha presses harder, weaving spells of healing and sanctuary.

“James?” her voice stops chanting and speaks his name, finally allowing him to open his eyes and look at her fully. “Are you with me, James?”

There are tears in her eyes, and Bucky tries to smile, soft and reassuring, “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“Fuck, thank gods,” Natasha breathes out, pulling him close and kissing his forehead, wiping away quickly falling tears, “Clint—” she calls, pulling her familiar closer, “go get Steve, now.”

Clint shifts, folding down into his animal form and flying into the air. Bucky slumps forward, taking in his surroundings for the first time. It seems like he’s by the sea, half in the ocean and half clinging to the wooden dock above. He does a precursory check of his skin— he still has a Mer tail, Triton.

“Wait, Nat,” he grabs her arm, gasping as he’s suddenly, finally able to access his memories, weeks of romance and joy flooding in along with performing the spell, talking with Wanda, seeing Tony’s eyes for the first time.

Tony, fuck!

He remembers their last day together— Tony offering him jewels of engagement, confessing his love, and dipping forward for a kiss, before he was led away. And those last moments, where he could see Tony, arm and arm with…

“Alexander.” oh, hell no, “Natasha, what does Alexander want with Tony?”

He doesn’t wait for her response, flashes of memories where Tony was beaming up at Alex, the larger man— enemy of state, Alexander Pierce— adorned in courting jewels and transformed into a Merman as well, swimming with a midnight blue tail and all the favor of King Howard himself.

The most concerning memory is what Bucky can recall of Tony’s eyes, unnaturally blue and vibrant instead of dark and brown. His expression was serene, but Bucky knows exactly how powerful the other mage can be, how controlling Alex can be. He shivers remembering his former teacher’s hold on his mind, cold and stifling, years ago before Steve banned him from the Kingdom.

Why is he here? What could he possibly gain by controlling and marrying Tony?

“Buck!”

His head whips up and Steve is barreling towards him, dressed casually and face red with tears, “Bucky, holy shit! I’m so so sorry, Buck— oh my gods, are you okay? I can’t… are you…” his words break apart into sobs as he jumps into the water, throwing his arms around Bucky’s neck and holding him close.

Bucky has never seen his brother broken up like this, and returns the embrace, stroking Steve’s hair while he cries, “Hey, punk— it’s okay, I’m okay,” he soothes, pressing a few kisses into his hairline.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Buck, I had no idea… when Nat came to me weeks ago, saying you disappeared right out of her house, I had the surrounding land absolutely scoured searching for you. I had no idea you were... turned into one of them. What happened? How do we… how do I get you back?”

“Shut up, Steve, gods—” Bucky chuckles, clapping his brother on the shoulder, “I agreed to this.”

“What?”

“Listen to me, for once in your life, Steve. I agreed to this— after you burned down my fucking boat— to show you that Merpeople are people, too. I made a deal with the mage who Natasha was banging, and she told me there was a spell over the sea Kingdom and their people, something blocking their minds from understanding anything above the shoreline. She said if I married the Prince, uniting the Kingdoms, the spell would be broken.”

Steve looks completely lost, so Bucky just continues, “Uh, the catch was I would have to go under their spell and give up my memories. After a few weeks, Tony was going to propose, but Alexander Pierce showed up and enchanted him away. And by that time, I had lost almost all of my memories and couldn’t stop him.”

“And then you washed up here.” Steve finishes, nodding distractedly. “Okay, and how do you change back?” he asks, motioning at the tail between them.

“Uh… I think I have to marry Tony.”

---

He’s never swam faster in his life. On the surface, Bucky can see the naval ships gearing up to sail, and he picks up his pace, diving down to find the underwater Kingdom.

Because of the ban against him, he’s going to need insider help. As he approaches the Kingdom’s Eastern walls, Bucky lifts his fingers to his lips, whistling once, sharp and piercing. He slows to a stop behind a few boulders and waits, hoping that Pepper and Rhodey could hear him from nearby.

“... Tony?” a voice whispers nearby— Pepper, thank the seas.

“Pepper, it’s me,” Bucky puts his hands up in surrender and rounds the stone formation, stopping when he sees her and Rhodey raise their weapons, “please, I need to talk.”

“Bucky?” Pepper calls, swimming closer and shrugging off Rhodey as he tries to stop her, “where have you been? What did you do?”

He shakes his head, keeping his hands raised, “Please, I think Tony’s in trouble. The man with him, Alexander Pierce, is an enemy of the state and powerful mag— witch. I think he has Tony under a spell. Please, I need you to help me—”

“If he’s such a threat,” Rhodey interrupts, lowering his weapon and crossing his arms, “why did you leave?”

“The King forced me out. My memories were almost gone, and by the time I was out of the Kingdom, I couldn’t remember my own name, much less Tony.”

“Triton, Bucky. How did you get back?” Pepper curses, swimming closer and putting a hand on his shoulder, “How are your memories back?”

Bucky looks over her shoulder at Rhodey before turning back to her, grabbing her hand, “I ended up back with my people. They healed me and restored my memories. Look, I don’t know what Alexander wants with Tony, but it’s not good. I think we can stop him.”

Rhodey swims forward to join them, placing a weapon in Bucky’s hand, “We know. Ever since you left, Tony hasn’t talked to us once— always in the company of Alexander and his father. He’s closed down our scheduled explorations and is set to wed the man today. We’ll help you stop him, Bucky. He has never been as happy as when you two were together.”

“Fuck, okay,” Bucky says, feeling the emotion well up within his chest, “show me where they are.”

The three of them swim around the walls, heading to the southmost side of the Kingdom borders. When they approach, Bucky can see a crowd of Merpeople gathered, surrounding a magnificent display of lights and color. The closer they get, the more Bucky can discern. Tony is floating underneath an ornate altar, wearing all the jewels and chains the Bucky dressed him in only days before. He sees red, and turns to Rhodey—

“Cause a distraction. I’ll take Alexander.”

They part, and Bucky aims for where Alexander is leaving the Kingdom gates, flanked by three or four royal guards. He can hear Rhodey and Pepper yelling near the altar, drawing everyone’s attention, and he attacks, diving down and plowing straight into Alexander.

“The hell—” Alexander yelps, drowned out by the commotion up front, and Bucky pins him to the sand, getting in a solid right hook before the guards are on them, pulling Bucky away as he struggles and fights.

“You bastard! The fuck do you want with him Alex?” Bucky screams, kicking hard with his tail to know avail.

Alexander just smiles, vile and knowing, “Oh, James. I thought you were smarter than this.”

As they start to drag Bucky away, he sees a glimmer of blue around Alexander’s neck, separate from the chains and jewels and headdress. Tony’s signet ring. Dammit. The gold of the ring is washed out in a pale, unearthly blue— similar to the blue in Tony’s eyes.

Alexander turns around, ignoring Bucky and heading back to the ceremony, and Bucky takes his chance. He whispers a small enchantment and feels the power run through his body— before clenching his fists, satisfied when all four guards burst away in a wave of light. Alex turns to defend himself, but it’s too late. Bucky lunges forward and rips the ring— chain and all— right off his neck.

The water around them shifts. Stilling and snapping all at once. He feels the power rush back into himself from the ring, stored away from weeks ago when he healed the love of his life. His head snaps up, looking for Tony in the crowd. Rhodey’s cradling his limp body, screaming for help.

With one last look at Alexander, unconscious on the ground, Bucky takes off.

“Tony!” he shouts, slowing down when he reaches the two of them, terrified of how similar this moment is to when Bucky saved him the first time. And similar to then, he takes the ring in hand, sliding it on his finger, before breathing the healing spell and enchantment into it.

“It was you,” Rhodey looks on in awe, pointing at the ring on Bucky’s finger, “you saved him from the shark attack.”

Bucky can’t respond, mouth working quickly as he finishes the spell. He looks down at Tony’s face, taking in his features with fresh eyes. Gorgeous, just as beautiful as before, but thin. Gaunt. Bags that never existed before marr his perfect skin, and Bucky can swear his skin is gray instead of tan and pink. Alexander was killing him, draining the life from him slowly.

“Tony,” he whispers, shaking his love, his friend, his betrothed— dammit, “c’mon, baby, wake up. Tony, look at me sweetheart.”

As he’s begging, he slips the ring off of his finger and onto Tony’s hand, securing it on his ring finger. Tony gasps awake, looking around frantically before his eyes settle on— “Bucky?”

“Fuck, baby,” Bucky chokes, feeling the back of his eyes heat up with unshed tears, “are you okay?”

“I…” he looks around, confusion settling over his features, “are we getting married already?”

Bucky laughs, helping Tony to sit up straighter, “As much as I’d love that— no. We’re not. You’ve been under enchantment by a man named Alexander Pierce. I’m not sure what he wanted, or how he found you, but he’s had you under for a few days. What do you remember last?”

Tony furrows his brow, concentrating, “I— I remember us in my room, putting on the courting jewels, and then… I promised I’d come back to you.”

“You did,” Bucky crowds into Tony’s space, pushing his hair back tenderly, “you did come back to me.”

Their eyes meet, longing and affection traded in a loaded gaze, before Rhodey clears his throat, “Uh, not to ruin the moment completely, but is he supposed to be doing that?”

All three of them turn to look as Alexander’s body unfolds, swelling and popping, bursting with tangled limbs, growing and growling towards the surface of the water. As a long, reptilian head emerges, Bucky’s eyes go wide with understanding.

“It wasn’t about me or you Tony,” he murmurs, reaching for a weapon, “it was always about him.”

The hydra monster screeches, terrible and loud, as it stretches out long limbs and three, snarling heads. One of them zeros in on the crowd, now screaming and swimming away frantically, and smiles deadly, horrifying teeth at them, “It’ sss alway sss been me,” it hisses, snapping just a few feet in front of where they float, huddled together.

Bucky straightens up, “What do you want, Alexander?” he bellows, opening his arms wide, “you’ll never have us, we won’t surrender to you.”

“I never wanted you, sss illy boy,” he sneers, “you were only the di sss traction. A sss we sss peak, my army is preparing to lay sss eige to your preciou sss Kingdom.”

“Steve will stop you,” Bucky yells back, grabbing Tony’s hand as they face the Hydra together.

“Oh, but you sss till don’t get it,” Alexander throws all three heads back and cackles, a sharp, nasty sound, “it was my sss pell that divided the Kingdoms, my enchantment that brought you two together, my plan to turn you to the sss ea.”

“Wanda—”

“My sss ervant, mo sss t effective in getting rid of you, Jame sss.”

Bucky reels back, trying to add everything up. Wanda’s spell— while a lifeline to Bucky— was just a trick to get rid of him. He was too knowing, too curious, and it allowed Alexander to do gods know what in the past month, culminating in taking over the sea Kingdom, enchanting the King and marrying the Prince. Now that everyone is free from his spells, it’s obvious how misled Bucky had been from the beginning.

And now, Steve’s not defending the Kingdom. He’s on his way here, and completely unaware of the threat converging back home.

“Tony,” he turns, urgently grabbing the Prince’s shoulders, “my brother’s on his way here. My Kingdom is vulnerable to attack with him gone. We need to kill Alexander now and stop him here before he’s able to unite land and sea.”

“Okay, okay… wait. Land?” Tony asks, looking confused, and Bucky remembers. Triton, t he spell is still blinding the Merpeople.

Bucky keeps one eye on the Hydra, still growing and thrashing in front of them, and takes Tony’s hand. “Rhodey, can you help me?” he asks, and the other Mer swims closer, looking between them curiously.

“Tony, do you trust me?” Bucky looks into Tony’s eyes, astounded to see only affection shining back at him, his own face reflected in his favorite dark irises.

“With my life, Bucky,” he promises, and Bucky grabs the ring, pulling it off and placing it in Rhodey’s palm.

He covers it with his hand, encouraging the three of them to link arms and put a hand on the ring. It glows brighter, gold and vibrant, and Bucky holds Tony’s gaze, “The only way to break the curse is for us to wed, Tony,” he begins, watch as Tony’s jaw drops in surprise, “we’ve only known each other a few weeks, so this spell will bind us in soul, temporarily husbands as long as my enchantment is on this ring. I can easily break it, so after tonight we don’t… you don’t… anyways,” he lowers his gaze, unable to meet Tony’s anymore, “for now, it will help if I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

Tony hooks a finger under Bucky’s chin, lifting it gently, “I trust you, Bucky, and I would be proud to marry you.”

They share a sweet moment, resting their foreheads together, before Rhodey clears his throat and interrupts them again, “Guys— the Hydra?”

“Fuck, okay. Rhodey, I need you to hold the ring tight— you are the conduit for our soul bond.”

Rhodey looks hesitant, but clenches his fist obediently, gripping the ring in his hands. Bucky clasps a hand on Rhodey’s shoulder, instructing Tony to do the same, and intertwines their fingers together. The chant is simple, short and brief. He feels a tug in his chest as he weaves it, feeling Tony’s soul reach towards him eagerly, until it slides into place, whole and complete.

Their eyes shoot open at the same time, and Bucky can see a golden ring shining around Tony’s iris. He knows his eyes look the same, and he laughs as he feels… whole. Feels certain. Feels Tony, solid and peaceful in his chest. Tony laughs in response, grabbing his chest and throwing his arms around Bucky’s neck.

“Uh guys…” Rhodey gets their attention, holding out his hand. He doesn’t need to finish the sentence— inside his palm are two rings instead of one, shimmering and pulsing with a light of their own.

Bucky hands one to Tony and slips the other on his finder— a perfect fit.

They turn to see the Hydra monster hundreds of feet away, heading back towards the Kingdom of Brooklyn, but the real spectacle is a dark cloud that starts to rise from Howard’s Kingdom. Wispy, black tendrils rise in the water, floating to the surface and releasing the Kingdom below. Bucky looks over the crowd nearby and sees the vapor physically seeping from each Mer, departing from their bodies and rising away.

He feels revelation and realization deep in his chest, and knows it’s coming from Tony. Shocked cries resound and he can hear the Hydra roar, but Tony swims closer to him, mouth open and speechless as he touches Bucky’s face, reverent and careful.

“You saved me.”

Oh, of course, “You remember?”

Tony laughs, bright and loud, “You idiot, of course I remember. You had fucking legs. A boat. Magic. How did I forget?”

Bucky just shakes his head, “Alex had everyone under a spell. We need to stop him, Tony, and later we can talk about everything, okay?”

Tony nods and they start to swim, gathering guards and other members of the royal army as they go. Howard is nowhere to be found, and they learn from a townsperson that the Hydra took him hostage, determined to unite the two Kingdoms under his own rule.

They swim faster. Bucky never lets go of Tony’s hand, anticipation and adrenaline thrumming strong through their bond together. That is, until Bucky starts to choke. He takes a deep breath, confused about the issue, and realizes that the water is flooding his lungs, no longer being converted into oxygen. He sputters, frantically looking to Tony, and clawing towards the surface, desperate for air. And then he starts to sink. It’s unbelievable pain as his scales recede into skin, and his tail rips apart, restructuring and rehealing into two, familiar legs.

No. Tony looks down, watching the transformation in horror, before hugging Bucky close and swimming rapidly for the surface. Bucky’s vision is dimming, oxygen lacking, and his ears pop as they break the surface, finally taking a desperate gulp of air.

Tony holds him still as he heaves, legs wrapped around the Merman’s waist to keep him above the water. They watch the Hydra move quickly away from them, but there’s a large mass in the distance, blocking Alexander from his goal.

“Can you get us there?” Bucky whispers, voice hoarse from the transformation.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” and it’s all the warning he gets before Tony’s shifting them, putting Bucky on his back, and swimming rapidly just below the waterline.

He watches, helplessly, as the Hydra strikes in the distance, smashing what Bucky can only guess is a naval ship. They close in on the fight, and Bucky can see the royal ship, Steve’s ship, sail around the Hydra and approach from behind. There’s a moment where the Hydra seems to avoid the rear attack, but then is caught, trapped between two other ships, and impaled slowly onto the bowsprit, piercing through its heart and ripping a guttural cry from the monster.

“Tony! Tony!” he yells, trying to get the Mer’s attention. “Tony, stop! I think he’s dead, Tony!”

He screeches to a stop and Bucky careens forward, almost losing his grip around Tony’s back, “What? What happened?”

“Look!” Bucky points forward, both of them watching as the Hydra not only falls back into the sea, but starts to shrink and shrink and shrink.

“We… he did it,” Tony says, breathless, and turns to hold Bucky, both of them facing each other again.

“We did it,” Bucky agrees, endless joy vibrating between them.

This time he doesn’t wait. Bucky swoops down and captures Tony’s lips in a kiss, both of them smiling into it, salty and sweet and tender. It tastes like victory. It tastes like relief. It tastes like home.

They stay wrapped up in each other— Bucky quickly aware that he’s completely naked pressed up against Tony— until Steve’s ship arrives, a flag of victory in the air, a symbol of hope on the sea.

---

It takes a while for them to rebuild. Even though Alexander didn’t do much lasting damage, and his troops were easily scattered without him, the wreckage he caused in the minds of both land and sea citizens is hard to heal.

Tony and Bucky are married before both of their people— a large ceremony that takes place in the cove where they first met. They keep the enchantment on their rings, happy to nurture their soul bond, and strengthen it with Natasha’s help.

King Howard was grumpy, but uninjured after the battle. His relationship with King Steve is slow coming, but both of them have plenty to bond over concerning their newly wed Princes. They establish several trading routes between their two Kingdoms, and there’s a quick exchange of several types of raw and baked foods.

Natasha presents Wanda to the King a few weeks later, the girl worse for wear and humble at Steve’s feet. She tells a convincing story of her own manipulation, and with Natasha as her character witness, the King is easily convinced to grant her a pardon.

For their wedding gift, Natasha works a charm into their rings to let them shapeshift at will. They spend the first week on land, showing Tony the joys of walking and baking and intercurral sex— and the second week in the sea, building their own cottage outside the castle and christening it with very adventurous Mer mating.

Pepper commissions a painting, done in the palace and reproduced on land, of their Princes—

Underneath, the inscription reads, “Separated by Ignorance, United by Love, and Victorious in Unity."

It’s a little dramatic, sure. But as they celebrate their marriage and love year after year, it’s decided that no words could be better to honor the two Princes, loved by both land and sea.

#winteriron #mermay #tony/bucky #starkbucks #tony x bucky #mer!tony #mer!bucky #mage!bucky #happy ending #good King Steve #tw: Alexander Pierce #finished wip #fanfic #mcu au

[the-peachpit]

Sons Of A Crow

DSMP AU: Wilbur, Tommyinnit, Technoblade are siblings with an absent Father

Warning: Major Character Death

Summary: Philza left to defend L'manburg, Technoblade left to bring him home, Wilbur stayed and watched Tommy grow on his own. Too young to watch over himself and suddenly watching the struggles of others something broke inside Wilbur. his family reunion wasn't what he wanted, but maybe- what they all needed.

In this story L'manburg was a city that always existed and was ready to erupt without the help of Wilbur or Tommy.

Also consider following me on Twitter for more insights on stories! @Thepeachpit_

Orange leaves danced through the sky when Wilbur said goodbye to his father watching his back become a silhouette against the sun. It was fall, a crisp chill in the air when Tommy ran from the top of the stairs his little yellow wings puffed behind him as he missed a step tumbling down. Wilbur turned his face fell watching Tommy scramble to stand ignoring the blood on his knee and hands. Wilbur wrapped a scarf around Tommy’s neck as he screamed for his dad to come back in shorts and a t-shirt. Wilbur could see his own breath as he held Tommy down from trying to fly telling him it was alright.

“Why is he leaving!” Tommy sobbed, “I told him I’d learn how to fly! I’d learn to fly to keep him here! I can do it!”

Wilbur hugged his brother closer whispering into his wheat-colored hair, “Please, Tommy it’s not your fault.”

“It’s everyone else’s,” A voice growled.

Sun beamed through the high windows of the wooden home, but Techno stood in the shadow that day. Sulking, tricking himself into thinking Wilbur couldn’t see his tears. Wilbur would never say a word about the way Techno’s mouth twitched and his shoulders shook. Being the oldest Wilbur knew Techno would carry too much on his shoulders, but he was no father figure. He was no unfeeling weapon, as much as he pretended. Their father had rescued Techno from an auction, and Techno repaid that kindness by being his shadow. Learning everything their father had to offer. A piglin with the dream to be equal to men. Wilbur couldn’t imagine what Techno thought watching their father spread his wings without him.

The day dragged on as Wilbur sat with Tommy on the couch drilling it into the young boy’s skull it wasn’t his fault their father left- he had to. Their father’s situation was delicate. He wasn’t just a crow hybrid but a godly being of sorts, though he never advertised it. Their father had taken Wilbur and Techno to his shrine when they were a little older than Tommy. People worshiped him when they were in need. He looked after those who needed protecting. He wasn’t born an immortal god but was given the right after giving so much of himself to the world that the universe had to reward him. An immortal life with the curse of mortal children with the universe herself. Now people expected him to fight in the war of L’manburg a nation that had been teetering on the edge of revolution for years. Philza would be the hammer ending it all. Wilbur shifted his white wings when Techno came in the whites of his eyes red, his cheeks puffy. Wilbur wouldn’t utter a word.

Taking on the role of a caretaker wasn’t unusual to Wilbur having done it before even when their father was home. Before Tommy was born. Growing up with a piglin brother who still had basic lessons to learn in over world customs was fun but came with challenges. Especially when Techno started learning the art of the blade. Wilbur was tasked with keeping his brother from scrapping with every kid who laid eyes on him with a sneer.

Tommy had finally fallen asleep to something on TV and Wilbur had noticed Techno slip out hours ago. Walking out onto the back porch Wilbur watched his half piglin brother whack at dummies with an axe. His blows were messy- unusual for the calm and collected fighting state his brother usually took on. With tight moves and precision.

“You want to talk about it?” Wilbur sat himself on the stairs.

“Not really,” Techno huffed.

Wilbur leaned back on his palms, “You can’t keep it in forever, better to get it out now right?” he looked up at the sky, it had gotten cloudy.

“Bet I can,” Techno landed another blow.

Wilbur sighed, “Come on.”

Techno spun around his long pink ponytail lifting from his shoulders, “What the fuck do you want me to say Wil? Philza just left us here with no warning, who knows how god damn long he’ll be gone. L’manburg’s been fighting itself for years now. Suddenly he has to do crowd control.”

“If you keep swearing like that Tommy is going to get a sailors mouth,” Wilbur smirked.

Techno rolled his eyes, “You remember what he was like after the last war he was called to don’t you? Swearing is the least of Tommy’s worries.”

How could Wilbur forget, the man who came back was not their father. He was cold, distant, quick with a fist. Techno scrapped with their father a lot after he came home, sometimes protecting Wilbur, sometimes Tommy who was too young to remember the in-house violence. Too young to know to keep away from his own dad. Wilbur never blamed Philza he had seen a travesty; he’d taken lives and there’s no coming back from that casually. To return to a family after finding blood on your hands couldn’t be easy. The thought of that happening to Technoblade haunted Wilbur, to see his brother’s eyes look empty and dazed. He hopped Philza would never let Techno join him, as much as Wilbur knew that would tear Technoblade apart.

“Maybe this time will be different,” Wilbur sighed watching the clouds roll in.

Within the first week Tommy’s golden feathers were scattered around the house. Wilbur found a few in the bathroom at first thinking nothing of it. Then more popped up in the kitchen, living room, and a whole pile on the front porch. Wilbur had always respected his brother’s privacy, but out of pure panic he burst into Tommy’s room without knocking watching as Tommy pulled a handful of feathers from his wings. Wide blue eyes filled to the brim with tears starred at Wil-pleading. Scooping Tommy into his arms Wilbur tore down the stairs yelling for Techno.

It was noon on a chilly fall day a storm was rolling in the thunder rumbling deeply as it shook the old house. Wilbur was clutching Tommy’s hands as the boy sniffled at each tug of the bandage Techno wrapped around the bald spots. Pouring oil to heal and hopefully deter Tommy from plucking anymore.

“He’s stressed out,” Wilbur sighed finally feeling like he could breathe.

“Really,” Techno said sarcastically.

Wilbur ran his hand through his brown wavy hair-it was getting long- “I’m serious what are we going to do?”

Techno shrugged, “Our best I guess?”

Wilbur was already doing his best.

After plucking his feathers and being banned from flying on Dr, Techno’s orders Wilbur made sure to never let Tommy leave his sight in fear of his depression getting worse. If the wings were the worst of it Wilbur was sure he could deal, but things could always get worse. The curse of the Crow god hung heavy on the odd family. Weeks passed with the weather oddly warmer for the middle of fall. The trio was outside regularly soaking up the sun or hiking into town casually speaking with others. Techno hated the small talk, but Wilbur insisted it was for Tommy’s sake, keep him socialized. He reminded Techno how important it was to socialize him and was met with a swift whack to the back of the head. Ignoring every bit of war talk they could. It finally felt like it was all stabilizing- like they could hold out until Philza came back.

“You know we just got some new candy in I thought you’d like to try,” A girl smiled coming out from the back of the grocery store.

“Hell yea!” Tommy pumped his fist in the air.

“You’re spoiling him Niki,” Wilbur shook his head putting his groceries on the counter.

“I got some new books too,” Niki put three books on the counter, “Free of charge of course, “She winked.”

A month ago, Wilbur had resented Niki’s kindness as if they couldn’t care if themselves without their father. He hated thinking she was right. With time he realized that wasn’t it at all. Niki was genuinely kind, enjoying the company of the brothers. She wasn’t full of sympathy, but compassion. Giving where she could, but never overly so.

“What, nothing for me?” Technoblade put on a show of pouting.

“Sorry,” Niki shrugged, “My boss still thinks weapons in a general store is a bad idea.”

Techno shook his head, “He’s missing a whole customer base.”

“Maybe I can-“ Niki was cut off as a crowd gathered around the TV in the corner of the store.

Coming from the back the store’s owner turned up the volume on the news broadcast. It was a warm fall when the footage of fires ablaze in homes that viewers were assured had been abandoned was shown to the public. People whispered and gasped, but no one saw him-except Wilbur. A shadow in the corner of the screen wings close to his body, his stance tight, sword sheathed at his side-the Crow in all of his glory. Was that his handy work? He wouldn’t. L’manburg was in flames. Something silently snapped in Wilbur that day, watching his father do nothing as a city burned to the ground. Seeing that scene alone may have started the spiral but knowing Philza watched over the pyres of family’s- Wilbur grabbed the groceries rushing out of the store.

He didn’t speak to his brothers the whole walk home. It had gotten chillier.

Winter dropped two snowstorms back-to-back, during the second Wilbur picked up smoking to keep himself warm. The clouds that escaped from his lips as he sat under a hazy sky while Tommy played in the snow were thick. He watched the smoke curl and join the sky. It started with a smoke outside int eh morning and night. His hands with nothing more to do just kept lighting until he found himself at a pack a day. There was a numb comfort as he lit a second cigarette while Tommy rolled snow into a ball. His mind felt distracted, distant floating away with the smoke. His chest felt lighter, like the weight he’d been carrying found its peace-it never lasted long enough.

“Come on Tommy,” Wilbur put out his cigarette butt in the snow, “It’s cold out here,” He stretched out his wings, “Techno has a nice fire going inside.”

Rolling his eyes Tommy groaned, “Fiiiine,” he pouted his golden wings puffed behind him.

He’d healed perfectly and Wilbur had taken Tommy out for flying lessons a few times over the fall, but winter was hard for flying. The weather changed fast and the cold hurt inexperienced wings. Wilbur had been so happy there was no permanent damage he cried to himself in his room, not unusual, but this was different. He was so happy.

“Wilbur,” Tommy rolled on the floor by the fire, “Can you make hot chocolate?”

“Sure thing,” Wilbur smiled heading into the kitchen.

Techno stomped in trying to get the snow off his boots. Wood stacked under his arm.

“Well, we won’t freeze to death.” Wilbur joked pulling out a small pot.

“You’re welcome,” Technoblade stuck his tongue out.

A knock on the door stopped Wilbur’s quip dead in his throat. A knock at the door. Their door in the middle of nowhere. They weren’t expecting anyone. Would he have knocked after all this time? Wilbur shared a glance with Technoblade who was holding his breath.

The sound of the door creaking open sent Wilbur to the front entrance.

“Tommy, dude you can’t just open the door for anyone,” Wilbur scolded him.

“Oh, come on Wilbur,” Tommy rolled his eyes.

Standing in the doorway was a familiar face in a light blue hoodie. The man would have almost disappeared amongst the snowy landscape if not for his tan complexation.

“Hey Skeppy, what brings you out here?” Wilbur asked the ice mage.

“Mail believe it or not,” Skeppy held out a disheveled letter, “Niki said you guys don’t go to the store during bad weather and asked me to deliver it.”

“Thanks,” Wilbur nodded, “Would you like to come in and warm up?”

Skeppy shook his head, “This weather is my natural element I am as comfortable as can be,” He assured him, “Plus Bad is expecting me back.”

Wilbur chuckled, “Have fun in the nether, don’t melt.”

“Ha-ha,” Skeppy rolled his eyes waving goodbye.

Closing the door Wilbur looked at the letter in his shaking hands. It was tattered and must have had a long journey to his cold fingers. Walking back into the kitchen where Tommy and techno stood Wil looked between his brothers unsure what to say. Opening his mouth, he wished he had a cigarette to give him an excuse to stay silent. There was no other choice as he slowly slipped a finger unto the fold of the yellowed envelope ripping it open. Pulling out the letter Wilbur gasped.

“Who is it from,” An urgency in techno’s voice.

“Dad,” Wilbur whispered his dark eyes scanned the letter again, “He says he’s coming home soon.”

“Let me see,” Techno ripped the letter from Wilbur’s grasp, “Holy fuck,” he breathed out.

“Dads coming home!’ Tommy threw his hands up in the air running around the house.

Spirits were high as the sun shone over glittering snow.']

The letter hadn’t stated when their father would be back, just soon. The days rolled like molasse with everyone especially Tommy, checking the windows to catch a glimpse of their father landing. The days and nights were all becoming bitterly cold, and the thought of delayed travel started to creep into Wilbur’s mind. To clear it when cigarettes weren’t enough, he snuck out at the dead of night through his window. The air was brisk, it shook him to his bones. Extending his wings with a powerful downward thrust Wilbur took to the starry skies. The wind hurt his wings-burned them with frost, but Wilbur had never felt so alive as his lungs froze inside. He was reminded of living as he soared against the inky night. He remembered his first winter flight with Philza. He fell towards the ground unable to deal with the brutal temperatures. His father had been there to catch him- support him- swearing to Wil he’d only have to fly in the winter if he were every in trouble. He wondered if he was in trouble now.

Technoblade was off, it had snowed again in the middle of the winter season. Wilbur would catch Techno staring out the window at nothing for far too long. Putting his hand on Techno’s shoulder would jolt him back to reality. His brother’s long pink hair that was usually tied so neatly in buns, or ponytails was in a knotted braid that hadn’t been maintained in days. He looked pale. Wilbur was worried about illness.

“Hey Techno,” Wilbur stood form the floor, “You mind playing this round with Tommy? My knees are kind of sore.”

Techno shrugged sitting across from Tommy who shuffled a deck of cards.

Wilbur at on the sofa behind Techno taking in the site of his older brother. Techno had purple marks under his eyes, they looked slightly puffy as well. He missed his turn and Tommy had to keep pulling techno from his fog. Slowly Wilbur reached out picking up the long braid and pulled the hair tie free. He brushed through his brothers matted hair surprised Techno was being a willing participant.

“I’ve always been jealous you had the patience for all of this hair,” Wilbur started braiding noting it was messier than anything techno had done.

“I’m going to grow my hair as long as techno,” Tommy proudly declared, “My braid will be ten times better.”

“You know I bet Techno could braid your hair now,” Wilbur suggested getting no response from his distant brother, “Techno,” Wilbur prompted.

“Oh-yea,” Techno shook his head, “Tommy come here.”

With quick fingers Techno braided Tommy’s short blonde hair before moving to Wilbur’s brown wavy mess. They were bonded the brothers of misfortune. Techno was getting worse, forgetting things, spacing out for hours, losing blocks of time. Wilbur kept asking him if he was okay but, Techno kept deflecting. Wilbur knew it was better not to push when it came to his brother. Techno would sort it out on his own, maybe it was a weird Piglin thing. Tommy stated asking again when their father was returning home as the snow melted and spring was on the way. Wilbur had no answer and it added onto the pile of anger he had been harboring. Seeing news cast after news cast about the war. How L’manburg was falling, how they didn’t just end it. He kept catching glimpses of their father at horrible sights, but nobody else seemed to catch him. Wilbur had given up months ago on the man he knew.

Cutting vegetables for dinner Techno put his knife on the counter leaning forward heavily panting.

“Hey you,” Wilbur started before Techno slumped to the ground.

“Techno!” Wilbur fell to his knees to comfort his brother only to be slapped away.

“Don’t touch me,” Techno growled.

“You need to rest something’s not-“

Slapping Wilbur’s hovering hand away Techno’s piercing green eyes shot through Wilbur, “I said fuck off, don’t touch me,” he growled. Standing on shaky legs Techno stumbled away and up the stairs leaving Wilbur to worry about his piglin brother. Techno locked himself away for three days, Wilbur left meals outside his door.

“Tommy!” A voice roared from down the hall, “I told you a hundred times to stay out!”

A scream sent Wilbur charging up the stairs, “What happened,” his voice died in his throat.

Cowering in the corner was Tommy his arms in front of his face to protect himself while Techno brandished a blade in front of him. Charging into the room Wilbur pushed Techno and his brother swung the weapon at him instead. His eyes red and angry his features more piglin than man.

“He’s just a kid what the hell is your problem?” Wilbur yelled.

“I’ve told him a hundred times to not touch my weapons and he was in here playing with my crossbow,” Techno growled.

“Is it broken? What is your deal, you don’t threaten him!”

“He doesn’t even deserve to be our brother, Philza raised us to be strong, and Tommy’s always been pathetic,” Techno spat.

“You’re a monster!” Tommy stood stomping his foot before taking off.

Slowly Techno lowered his weapon blinking frantically as his red eyes faded to the familiar green.

“Wil,” Techno swayed before collapsing to the floor.

Wilbur wasn’t sure which mess to pick up first. Deciding his brother on the floor would be priority. Getting leverage under his arms Wilbur hoisted Techno onto his bed glad the man passed out in his own room. Putting his hand on Techno’s forehead he felt the sheen of sweat on his hot skin. Biting his lip Wilbur took off to tend to Tommy. As he ran down the stairs, he pictured a flurry of gold feathers littering the halls. Of irreversible damage. Wilbur felt like his lungs were collapsing in on him as he checked every room to no avail. There was a chill in the air from an open window in the kitchen, Tommy had left. Wilbur felt himself gag when he realized. Tommy had taken off into the winter sky on the verge of darkness alone. Fuck and Wil knew he hadn’t taken time to put on any warmer clothes besides his thin long sleeve shirt. He had to go out and find him quickly throwing on his brown trench coat, scarf, and knit hat before running out and taking off to the sky.

“Tommy!’ Wilbur screamed until his voice was hoarse scanning the sky and land.

It had been two hours since he started his search, and his heart was pounding in his ears from a mixture of cold and panic. The sun had set behind the mountains leaving only a faint blue glow to the sky Wilbur knew would fade in time. Then Tommy would be out there alone overnight with no way for Wilbur to spot him. Tommy wouldn’t make it.

“Tommy!” Wilbur screamed.

“Wil,” A small broken voice made its way over the rushing wind.

Through tear frozen eyes Wilbur spotted him a small dark red speck in the white winter night. Immediately landing hard enough to stumble like he did when he was a child Wilbur scrambled to the lump on the ground. He couldn’t tell who was shaking more, himself or Tommy. In the darkness it was impossible to get a read on what was wrong, but the young boys breathing was shallow, and Wil begged for him to tell him what was wrong as he wrapped Tommy in his coat. A feeble effort to warm him. Holding his brother tight Wilbur prayed something he’d never been a fan of even being the child of a man akin to a deity. He prayed to his father to guide them safely through the night.

“Wilbur,” Tommy croaked, “I miss dad.”

“Me too,” Wilbur whispered holding his brother closer.

Miracles could bless those in dire need as the wind died down and the sounds of horse hooves crunching on the snow echoed through the trees. Wilbur’s ears perked at the sound of his name.

“We’re here!” Wilbur shouted with every breath he had left in his shivering body.

A horse sent by a prayer appeared before them with a familiar pink haired figure riding on top. He pulled off his red cape as he dismounted wrapping it around the shaking shoulders of the man who was trying so hard to have all the answers and hold it together.

“Let me see him,” Techno’s voice a faraway whisper with hands outstretched.

Wilbur hesitated knowing those hands caused destruction and started the argument that lead down this path. However, he was weak using all of his stamina while flying and holding Tommy tightly to his chest trying desperately to protect him from the elements. Slowly Wilbur handed over the shivering boy. Techno looked over Tommy nodding to himself Wilbur knew he was using his superior night vision to check Tommy over.

Standing on unstable legs Wilbur hoisted himself on the horse holding the red cloak around himself tightly apologizing in his own mind to his brother quietly endured the bite of the frost. Letting his dark eyes slowly close Wilbur continued his prayers to his father-pleads to come home.

Waking slowly with a pounding headache Wilbur propped himself on his elbows. He was in his bed int eh same clothes he’d worn last night. Looking down he saw red splotches on his shirt feeling his skin crawl. He wished it was his. Rolling out of bed he hissed at the pain in his knees, that landing had done more damage than he thought. Leaning against the wall for support he limped his way out into the hallway where a savory aroma hit his nose. Soup- a familiar soup- a dish his father had made a hundred times when one of them had been injured or sick. The stairs creaked causing Wilbur to hold his breath.

“Oh, good you’re up.”

Wilbur’s face fell, “Your hair.”

Techno stood in the hallway with a tray carrying two bowls of soup. His long hair had been hacked away into a short messy style. His long braid discarded.

“I’m leaving Wil,” Tehcno’s voice was cold, “I need to find Philza.”

Wilbur shook his head feel his braid, “We don’t need him we’re doing fine without-“

“I need him!” Techno shouted, “You don’t get it! I’m a danger to you two without Philza here! He keeps the voices away; they demand blood, and it doesn’t matter whose. Wilbur if I did anything permeant to you or god- fucking Tommy almost died last night!”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“Don’t try to spare me, you sugar coat everything thinking it’ll all work out, but it’s not working Wil! So, I’m going to drag dad back here by the scruff of his wings.”

A creak of the floorboards.

“A branch went through Tommy’s leg, its broken. I set it the best I could.”

“Techno please, we can beat this without him.” Wilbur felt his throat tighten.

“I’ll be back before summer.” Techno set the tray on a small table in the hall.

Without another word Techno walked down the stairs with Wilbur at his heels begging the man not to leave. Not for him but for Tommy, he would beat himself up, he wouldn’t survive if Techno just up and left. He’s a child who doesn’t deserve anymore disappointment. Nothing could deter the determined look of the piglin as he secured a travel bag to his horse and double checked the saddle. With a stern glance Techno left his axe shinning in the sun on his back.

Wilbur went inside a numbness overcame him as he pulled his heavy legs up the stairs grabbed a bowl of soup went into Tommy’s room. The boy laid eyes closed leg elevated the wrapped. Bloody scraps of cloth laid all around the room. Setting the bowl on the nightstand Wilbur felt his world crush him falling to his knees and sobbing his chest heaving. He apologized over and over to no one who could hear him. He apologized for being weak, unable to protect anyone, for letting things slip through his fingers. When Wilbur felt his heart snap months ago watching the fires he ignored it, took up smoking, and retreating into himself hiding what he thought he knew of his father from his brothers. If L’manburg was supposed to fall Wilbur wanted to push-someone had to push. It was the only way to bring everything back.

It was the first day of spring when Tommy finally awoke disoriented and Wilbur cried again holding his brother close to his chest. A warm wind rustled the grass that was returning when Wilbur had to come clean about Technoblades absence. He watched Tommy’s curious blue eyes become cold and steely. He wasn’t inconsolable, but as the earth thawed Tommy became icy. Going into town wasn’t as fun without Tommy chatting to everyone instead, he stood by Wilbur avoiding eye contact. Wilbur made a point to take Tommy out more hoping he would just spring back even on his crutches. After a while Tommy started saying he was too tired to hobble to town on his busted leg.

“That leg will heal in time Tommy, before you know it, you’ll be bouncing around again,” Wilbur encouraged.

Tommy pouted silently.

“I’m at my wits end Niki,” Wilbur leaned on the counter, “I can’t bring him back from this.”

The sweltering summer weather was on the way Wilbur had gone to buy ice cream realizing it was just another feeble attempt at fixing something impossible. “He’s been through a lot; the cast just came off didn’t it?” Niki pointed out, “All spring he’s been trapped, maybe take him for a flight! He’s always so happy to come back from those and tell me what he saw,” She giggled.

Wilbur shot up, “You’re a genius!”

A crash stopped Wilbur and unknowingly changed the ever-evolving family of unfortunate crows. A boy stood there wide brown eyes shooting between the knocked over display and Niki and Wilbur. His breathing was heavy.

“Sorry,” he stuttered out.

“It’s okay Tubbo,” Niki quickly assured him, “Accidents happen.”

Wilbur crouched down next to the boy spotting two stubby ram horns poking through his thick brown hair, his bangs were practically covering his eyes. He had long floppy ears and black nails. A hybrid.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Wilbur observed.

Tubbo said nothing staring back with big doe eyes.

“You just move in mate?”

Tubbo shrugged.

Niki gave a sad smile to Wilbur, “His situation is a lot like yours, except it’s just him.”

Wilbur’s body jerked like electricity had shot up his spine. A situation like his huh, an absent father fending for himself. All alone though he was just a kid couldn’t be older than Tommy, that was cruelty. Without hesitation Wilbur offered the kid a place to say welcoming Tubbo into the misfit pack. How he wished he’d met that kid sooner. At first Tommy was apprehensive until Tubbo burned himself on the stove. He wouldn’t let Wilbur go anywhere near him to help cowering like an animal in the corner. When Tommy approached though slowly Tubbo offered his hand. From that day forward the boys were inseparable as Tommy showed Tubbo things the ram boy had never seen and swore to protect him. Wilbur smoked a cigarette on the porch watching the boys climb trees in the backyard. Sometimes when he blinked, he saw himself and Techno climbing those trees. When did Techno go from the scared unsure halfling to a warrior? All Wilbur did was blink.

Running an errand in town the boys were chasing each other as usual when Tommy’s golden wings sprung out, somehow Tubbo had yet to see them.

“Wow!” Tubbo beamed, “Can you fly with those?”

Tommy shrugged, “Kind of.”

“Tommy,” Wilbur raised a brow, “You’re a splendid flyer.”

Tommy gave his wings a flap shrugging again.

It hit Wilbur; Tommy hadn’t flown since that night in the snow. Hadn’t even attempted all summer to stretch his wings.

“Why don’t you guys buy some candy form Niki,” Wilbur handed the two boys money watching them run off.

Wilbur went to a different store to buy his cigarettes. It smelled of cheap smoke and alcohol lined the shelves. It also played the news Niki had stopped showing because she thought it was bad for Tommy to see. Wilbur didn’t totally disagree, but he couldn’t play it at home either. The store was dim and none of the faces looked friendly, besides the slick man who worked at the counter. Tall with a close buzzcut, he wore glasses with two different colored lenses. Wilbur had spoken to Jackmanifold a few times, never in depth, but he knew they shared the same view of L’manburg-it had to end. The conversation had started that summer if you could call it innocently. Now it was becoming real tangible plans with a syndicate closer to the city.

“They’re starting to move the dynamite,” Jackmanifold slid a pack of cigarettes across the counter, “It’s a slow process, but when it’s done the war will end.”

Wilbur scowled; it was for the best. It was a complicated plan and included p6eople sneaking around to plant large undetectable stacks of dynamite around the city. The hardest part would be building the kill switch mechanism from what he understood. To set off he explosives untraceable.

Lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag Wilbur walked towards the exit, “Keep me updated Jack.”

“You got it boss,” Jackmanifold saluted.

Exiting the store Wilbur’s shoulders sagged.

“Wilbur!”

Two boys ran towards Wilbur showing off their spoils from the general store smiles bright and unafraid, unaware of the world crumbling around them. Wilbur returned their bright smiles he was doing this for them.

Summer was hot and the only cooling relief came in the form of a small inflatable pool Wilbur pulled from the basement. The boys got a kick out of splashing each other and Tommy had gotten more comfortable letting his golden feathers flap around like he used to. Wilbur had taken up journaling writing down every insignificant detail of days that dragged on through noon until lunch when suddenly the cool nights went much too fast. He wrote down the day he took the duo fishing, how Tommy never wanted to go again seeing fish struggling was too much for the young boy. How Tubbo tried to show Tommy it wasn’t that bad and trying to eat a raw fish. He wrote about taking Tommy back to the sky the poor boy was practically shaking at the thought.

“Tommy avians weren’t meant to spend so much time tethered to the ground,” Wilbur had said one day.

Tommy shook his head, “Wilbur I can’t last time it was.” He stuttered.

“Last time it was cold and dark,” Wilber gripped Tommy’s shoulder reassuringly, “Today’s perfect.”

Tommy shook his head, “Look Wilbur.”

“I’d like to see it,” Tubbo chirped, “I’ve never seen you fly! Could you take me?”

Tommy looked at Wilbur.

Wilbur nodded, “When he’s older he can.”

The thought of taking Tubbo into the sky was all it took for Tommy to follow Wilbur back into the open air. It really was a perfect day; Wilbur wrote in his journal about how there was no clouds in sight that day. He wrote about Tubbo wanting to get into music after seeing a traveling band in town. Wilbur spent the end of the summer teaching the boys guitar. Tommy snuck into Technoblades old armory in the shed and started to take blades seriously. Wilbur was hesitant but figured Tommy should know how to defend himself. Sending him to learn with Jackmanifold who was sworn from talking about L’manburg. Wilbur wrote about watching the boys grow for two years they turned into brave young men, and for a moment he was proud. They’d had ups and downs but the young men who stood in front of him now were admirable. Wilbur wrote letters his father would never see, and apologies Technoblade deserved.

Fall was right around the corner and Wilbur had given his trench coat to Tommy last winter. He was in town looking for warm clothes for himself as well as Tubbo. The boys were milling about the isles on their own while Wilbur hummed to himself going over his coat choices. When the crowd around the TV caught his eye Wilbur already knew it would be L’manburg coverage. Noticing Tommy and Tubbo at the back of the store Wilbur slowly made his way through the crowd. His heart shattered and his breathing became ragged at the sight of the news coverage, hey were speaking of a beast of pure rage that had knocked down a whole wall in a single blow. Wilbur knew who they meant deep down in his aching bones he knew-but it couldn’t be he went there to bring their father back not join in the bloodshed. They must have been talking about Technoblade as they mentioned his blood red cape and crown on his head- a prince of destruction.

Wilbur ran, he left the boys as he sprinted down the street to the sketchy store on the corner where he bought the cigarettes that started to make him cough. “You have to blow it!” Wilbur slammed his fists on the counter.

“Wil, we can’t,” Jackmanifold tried to calm him, “There’s only a fail-safe button if you were to press that you’d die.”

Wilbur laughed, “It’s almost been three years Jack! What is taking so long!”

Jackmanifold raised his unusually even tone, “It’s not exactly easy sneaking tons of explosives into a maintain and rigging them outside of a war zone!”

“Tell me where,” Wilbur ran his fingers through his hair.

“Mate,” Jackmanifold looked pale.

“Tell me Jack or I swear I’ll burn this place to the ground!” Wilbur grabbed the front of Jack’s shirt his wings spreading far enough to break bottles as they fell off shelves. Jackmanifold spilled the beans and Wilbur spiraled that night packing all of his belongings hastily into a suitcase. Hurrying down the stairs in the dark only to be stopped by a man at the door with blonde hair and arms crossed.

“Where you going Wil?” Tommy asked.

“Tommy, I have to,” Wilbur trailed off.

“Have to what huh?”

Wilbur winced, when was the last time Tommy had raised his voice in true anger.

“Fucking leave? Like Techno? Like dad?” Tommy raised an eyebrow, “Want to leave me here alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Wilbur was trembling, “You have Tubbo.”

“You’re my brother! You’re all I have left of my family Wilbur!” Tommy slammed his fist into the door, “Tell me why you’re leaving! Tell me why Technoblade really left! Tell me if you knew dad was leaving and why nobody gave me any goddamn warning! Why am I the last one to know anything in this family? I. am. A. part. Of. This. Wilbur! Stop treating me like I’ll break if you talk about them! It’s been three years and I haven’t heard you mention them once, just slowly break!”

“What’s going on?”

Wilbur turned he felt lightheaded as he saw Tubbo those same wide brown eyes shining in worry like the first day he saw him.

Tommy was laughing, “Welcome to this shitty family Tubbo! We’re fighting because your brother thinks your nothing!”

Wilbur felt his stomach twist at Tommy’s laugh-he was becoming more like Wilbur- Tommy was better than that. Wilbur thought he had been sly all these years, but Tommy was wise and knew he was falling apart.

“That’s not true Tommy,” Wilbur reached into his pocket pulling out a leather-bound journal holding it out to his brother, “If you don’t believe me then read this, but not yet. I’m going to L’manburg, and you might as well come with me. I hear there’s a safe zone outside of the city. You can read that and all of the books in the desk in my room after this trip. Okay?”

Tommy snatched the book looking at it, “Why would you go there,” he scowled.

“Techno went to get Philza back, but something went wrong. Now I’m going to end this story and get them both home.”

“Fine,” Tommy nodded, “Let’s pack our bags Tubbo.”

Renting a cart all Wilbur could think about was the outburst Tommy had, years of resentment had built inside of him Wilbur had never seen coming. Years of pain and confusion as his family fell apart around him. He was feeding off of Wilburs poor energy it seemed as well. Tommy was better than Wilbur-he had a bright future ahead of him. When they stopped for the night on the first day of their trip Wilbur snuck the leather journal from out of Tommy’s backpack. He wrote an apology letter, for the past present and future. He deserved at least that much.

When they got to the encampment Wilbur felt electricity spike through his body. He jumped from the cart running past confused by standers before his fist collided with a familiar face.

“I deserved that,” A gruff voice spoke.

“You deserve more than that,” Wilbur growled his fist still at the ready.

A tall figure with a muscular build stood before him, an axe at his hip, pink hair growing out to his shoulders. A blood red cape fluttered around his ankles and it looked like he’d broken a tusk.

“You’re right,” Techno nodded.

“Technoblade!” Tommy shouted running through the path Wilbur had carved out of the crowd.

Colliding with the tall man there was very little give as Tommy threw his arms around his chest. Techno looked at Wilbur in a pause his arms in the air palms out. Wilbur sighed giving a nod.

Technoblades face was soft as he smiled bending down to hug Tommy, “You’ve gotten so big.”

Wilbur wondered what it was like for Techno, the last time he saw Tommy he was critically injured, a busted leg, hypothermia now he had a full wingspan. Tubbo slowly came to stand next to Wilbur silently watching Tommy hug another hybrid.

“Who’s that?” Techno asked spotting the ram boy.

“My mate Tubbo,” Tommy moved to the boy slinging an arm around his shoulders, “basically part of the family.”

Tubbo gave a small wave.

“He basically saved Tommy after you left,” Wilbur narrowed his eyes.

“Wilbur,” Techno started.

Wilbur walked away without another word into the crowd back to the cart. He pulled it out of the commotion of the tents and stalls to an open part of field. He tied it to a tree and found a large boulder to sit on watching the crowd mill about. Looking at the sky he saw it, the mountain he would be climbing that night. After the sun went down Tommy would get the life he deserved.

As the time wound down Wilbur made sure to spend the day with his brothers even softening up around Technoblade. They ate good food and met better people caught up in a tragedy Tommy slowly realized he didn’t know much about asking Techno question after question to Wilbur’s dismay.

“How sheltered did you keep him?” Techno half joked.

“I just wanted him to be happy,” Wilbur looked at his reflection in his beer, night had fallen he had to leave, “If something happened to me,” he swallowed thickly, “Would you look after both of them?”

“Of course, I would but nothing is going to happen to you out here, it’s safe,” Techno assured him.

“Come home Techno,” Wilbur asked. His answer would change everything. He was the last string holding him together.

“I can’t until this is done,” Techno shoot his head a new braid done by Tommy swished around, “These people need me to keep them safe right now.”

It snapped.

“Right,” Wilbur nodded pulling his knit cap over his ears, “Have you seen Philza out here?”

“A few times, he was trying to be positive, but,” Techno took a drink, “He’s losing himself Wil, it’s bad. If this doesn’t end soon, he won’t be Philza much longer. I’ll get word out you’re here though; he’d rush to see you.”

The thought made Wilbur smirk, he had so much time to rush to see him, it was too late now.

Wilbur squeezed Techno’s shoulder as he said he was going to bed. He hugged Tubbo and hugged Tommy for far too long. He heart was aching; he thought this operation would be easy and as he hugged his youngest brother who had been through the ringer, he second guessed himself. He had to remind himself this was bigger than Tommy, this would stop a whole war. He had come this far-it was for more than just himself.

Lighting a cigarette on his torch Wilbur started to climb the mountain, it was steep, and rocks slid and tumbled with every step he took. How people could be stealthily on this trail he’d never know. He was sure the whole city could hear him scheming. He had his white wings out to help him balance and for comfort-if he fell, he would catch himself. He cursed his white feathers if they were black like his fathers he could have flown up.

Getting to the crest of the mountain the mouth of a cave greeted him. He entered with no hesitation his heart pounding in his chest as he noticed the writing on the walls. The anthem of L’manburg. In the center of the writing was a button-the button that would end it all.

“I knew I’d catch one of you eventually if I waited long enough.”

The voice behind Wilbur turned his veins to ice.

“Turn around slowly,” They demanded, “And come with me. I have a few questions.”

Slowly Wilbur turned to a shocked face holding a shaky sword.

“Wil,” Philza whispered into the dark, “What are you doing?”

“Philza,” Wilbur’s voice cracked.

“Why are you here?” Philza dropped his sword his long blonde hair braided to the side.

Wilbur wondered if Techno had done it. He smiled feeling his mouth wobble, “I want to bring you home.”

“Wilbur I promise to come home as soon as-“

“I’m ending this tonight!” Wilbur shouted, “It’s been three years Philza! Do you know what any of went through? Did Techno tell you how he ran away when Tommy almost died?”

“What?” Philza’s green eyes were wide, ‘I didn’t-“

“What do you still know about us!” Wilbur backed towards the wall, “We’ve grown and changed, and you haven’t been there! I can’t believe you even recognized me!”

“Of course, I recognize you! You’re my son!” Philza shouted.

Wilbur smirked, “I used to proudly tell people I was the mortal son of the crow. Now I say I have a dad somewhere. Except I’ve known exactly where you were all this time. I saw you on TV when no one else seemed to be able to! Causing atrocities. You even brainwashed Technoblade into it because he’d follow you anywhere.”

“Buddy I’ve been,” Philza hesitated.

“So, help me if you say doing your job, I’ll slit my own throat,” Wilbur spat.

Philza stood straighter, “I’ve been helping people, I’ve been a relief effort I’ve only raised my sword to defend.”

Wilbur hung his head, “I wish I believed you,” He looked at Philza with blurry vision tears welling up, “Do better for Tommy.”

Wilbur hit the button.

“NO!” Philza screamed rushing forward as the earth shook and rumbled.

Wilbur closed his eyes waiting for the crushing pain he deserved of mountain debris. Nothing came as the sounds of explosions rang through the night and sparks brighter than the stars lit up the night before the fires. Opening his eyes, he saw black wings extended over him protecting him from harm. Heavy breathing was the only sound as Wilbur looked into his father’s soft eyes and saw fear, panic, and anything but disappointment. Wilbur felt tears fall down his cheeks, but they weren’t his own. Looking to where the small mouth of the cave used to be he saw a gaping hole with crowds of people gathering to see the monster dwelling inside.

Tommy, Techno, and Tubbo stood out, their mouths a gape as they saw Wilbur pinned by their father in a tragic twist of fate. Slowly Philza stood turning to see the same crowd.

“You brought them here,” Philza looked panicked.

Wilbur clutched his own chest, “Philza you have to kill me.”

“What?” Philza whipped back around.

Wilbur stood kicking Philza sword towards him, “You have to kill me. They’ll arrest me.”

“Wil,” Philza shook his head, “We’ll work this out, I’ll talk with them.”

“Your reputation will be ruined.”

“I don’t care about me reputation! I won’t have to keep doing this if I lose it!” Philza stepped closer his hands out like he wanted to comfort Wilbur, but they were shaking.

“Philza they’ll torture me, you know they will.” Wilbur spoke like a dead man.

“I won’t do it in front of them!” Philza screamed, “You’re my son! I won’t kill you in front of your brothers! My children!”

“They’re so much stronger then you know now,” Wilbur picked up the sword from the ground slowly walking towards Philza. He put the hilt in Philzas open palms closing his fingers into fists holding his own clammy hands around Philzas warm ones, “Dad.”

Wilbur whispered his final word as Philza stepped forward and Wilbur hugged his father for the first time in a very long time. He cried silently while his father sobbed onto his shoulder his black wings encircling them as if to make it more private, to spare his brothers from knowing. As Wilbur succumbed to the pain he smiled, they knew, he bet Techno knew all along he came to L’manburg to die. It hurt more then he thought it would, physically or emotionally he couldn’t tell though. The pain in his abdomen was fire, but hearing Philza wail, and Tommy’s voice ringing in his ear Wilbur closed his eyes feeling cold, and warm against his father and his feathers.

“Wilbur, my strongest son,” Philza whispered.

They were the last words Wilbur heard. ------- Traveling in silence a day later Tommy was flipping through the journal Wilbur had given him, it was all of Wilbur’s personal thoughts. Tommy felt like a fool saying Wil hadn’t cared about him. He’d documented everything, several times he talked about how brave, and strong Tommy had gotten two summers ago. Their first winter flight together- how impressed Wilbur was. Tommy was a fool, he wrapped Wilbur’s old coat tighter around his shoulders trying not to cry where everyone could hear. If this was just one journal he wondered how many were in Wilbur’s desk, what they all said. At the end of this one Wilbur mentioned getting the family back together. He looked up at Philza driving the cart- he held Tommy so tight last night. It reminded him of the forest when he broke his leg. Idly flipping through Tommy noticed writing he had missed on the front cover earlier.

Dear Tommy,

You were served a rotten hand in this life, with a father who disappeared and brothers who were broken. Techno and I tried our best I promise you that, but we weren’t equipped to bring you up still being kids ourselves. We were scared- I was scared- of letting you down. I’ve written a journal full of apologies to Tehcnoblade, and I was a fool to think after Tubbo showed up you weren’t owed anything. You are owed a dozen apologies from three people, but I hope I am sufficient. If you’re reading this at all there’s a good chance I didn’t come home okay, or I didn’t come home at all, and I’m sorrier than you could ever know. This life wasn’t for me Tommy, I am in pain and I don’t know how else to stop it. You dulled this pain for so long I almost forgot I was suffering. I never realized how it was affecting you, and you were right, you’ve bene in the dark for a long time, because no one wanted ot hurt you- instead we did the opposite. Don’t be mad at Philza – our father never wanted to be a figure head, he wanted to be a man who made his family proud, and you should be proud of him. He would do anything for us, he just hasn’t had a lot of choices when it’s come to fate. If he could leave it behind, I know he would just to spend every day listening to you catch him up on what he missed. Be gentle with Technoblade, under his tough exterior out brother is soft and scared of what you think of him. When he left it was with good intentions to bring our father back. He gets caught up in his own head and becomes a danger to himself more than others. If you see him start to clam up don’t let him- bother him every day. He’ll pretend to be annoyed, but he wants to talk about it, he wants to feel something. Protect Tubbo when this is all over. Our family will be fractured and hurt, Tubbo has only ever had a broken family, he’ll hurt watching the pain work its way through your hearts differently. He’ll fell like an outsider with no right to mourn, but I believe Tubbo became just as much of a brother to me. I know he saved you from yourself, you might need to save him in return. Just remember not to be too strong, let yourself feel. We as a family hid our emotions for too long. Lastly, I have a large request I may not even know comes true, but don’t be mad at me. If I could have, I would have done this differently, but there was no more time. I needed to be free, you needed to be free. Tommy you’ve grown into a brilliant, gentle, curious soul who puts others before himself. Who is afraid to put himself first, listen to yourself more, trust yourself more. You are important and deserve to take care of you. I would have loved to see you continue to grow as you come into your own, but it wasn’t meant to be. Remember avians weren’t meant to be on the ground too long. Find me amongst the clouds on your next trip to the sky. Your brother forever, Wilbur.

Tommy hiccupped grabbing the ends of Wilbur’s jacket tight as he dropped the book, curled into a ball and sobbed, not for himself, but his brother whose hurt he never got to understand.

#dsmp #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fic #writing #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #major character death #dream smp #c!techno #c!wilbur #c!philza

[silke-doomflare]

Rock Bottom

It had been a few hours since Iris had left the estate. There was a huge gap in her night she couldn’t remember anything of, so she suspected she had passed out. After she had awakened she had headed into The Forgotten Knight, bought a new bottle and staggered on the silent streets while sipping. Iris could no longer remember why, but she had got into a fight with some people. She had been overpowered and someone had had the nerve to steal her bottle. Iris wasn’t been sure had she just spent all of her gil or had she also been robbed during the conflict. Either way, she had no place to go or enough gil to leave Ishgard. Then a sudden realization had struck her: she actually did have a place to go. The one final place. After a long while that had felt like an eternity Iris found her way to Silke’s doorstep. She lived in a block of flats with four floors. Silke’s apartment was located on the third floor, in the second one of the three outdoor stairways. The place was cheap and Iris had often noticed it - among other things - from thin wooden walls and random noise coming sometimes from upstairs, sometimes from downstairs or the apartments next door. If there was one person in the whole world who understood her, it would definitely be Silke. She was Iris’ lighthouse in this cursed sea of pitch black shite. Iris leaned on the doorpost for a moment, trying to pull herself together. Finally she knocked the door. “Si… Silke!” she yelled. “Open the door, it’s mi!”

It took a while for Silke to get to the door. She cracked it a bit, looking tired. Iris saw a very unfashionable combination of a poison green morning gown and pink moogle slippers from the narrow gap. Silke hadn’t even tried to tame her long, black hair, which was hanging loose, partly in front of her face and all around her shoulders. The tiny shiba inu earring she had bought from a fair earlier this year was dangling in her left ear. Iris hadn’t seen her ever taking it off. “Lareine?” Silke asked in a sleepy voice. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” Then she noticed the blood and the smell and seemed to wake up. “Oh dear gods, what the heck? Come in”, she urged and opened the door. Iris stepped in, struggling her way towards the sofa and fell onto it. She was probably quite a sight: covered in blood and puke and the corner of her left eye was purplish blue and swollen. Though she was too tired to care about what she smelled or looked like. “The focker threw mi out… Like I was a damn dish rag he had just used… to wipe his failures off the floor…”, she explained vaguely. It wasn’t necessary to say anything about herself actually wanting to leave the estate. Silke didn’t need to know. The only important part of the story was how she had been thrown out. Silke closed the door and followed Iris to the living room. For a moment she was unable to do anything but stare. “What happened?” she uttered finally. “Have you fought with someone? How much have you drunk?” She was eyeing at her all over. “Oi… do you need a bathroom? How about some tea? Or can you keep it in?” Silke was fussing about like she had never seen anyone in such a state before. Iris leaned on the sofa. She could’ve just listened and looked at Silke forever. She always looked so nice, fancily dressed or not. She also smelled nice. Mostly her scent was ink and old parchment, at times some mild, floral perfume, and sometimes something that resembled awfully lots of gunpowder. “N-no… I kinda… used a bathroom already… Kinda… Might have been yer neighbor’s bush…” Iris wasn’t completely sure. The memories were hazy. “Ya… happen to have anythin’? Some fockin’ ugly pig stole… my bottle.” Silke’s eyes widened the more the farther Iris got in her story. She opened and closed her mouth for a couple of times, trying to come up with something to say.

“Uh, you should know I’m so impulsive I can’t keep any booze in my apartment. Just so that I wouldn’t depend on it on bad days”, she explained while giving an awkward laugh. “And even if I did have something, I definitely wouldn’t give it to you. You’re in need of the damn tea… and maybe at least a bit of food?” Iris could almost feel something snapping inside her head. She turned around to see better Silke standing behind her. “Oh fock yer damn tea… Ya really think some leftover leaves floating in hot water will help mi in ani way?” In some twisted way Silke’s baffled expression made Iris feel good. Silke used such a huge chunk of her time in either school, library or her apartment, that it had probably been ages since someone had roiled her boring and dull life a bit. “Ya know.. Maybe ya should keep somethin’ here”, Iris continued. Now that she had started, she could as well mention about some other things as well that had been more or less bothering her. “Maybe if… Maybe if ya did take a shot or two on a bad day, ya wouldn’t… be so fockin’ boring! Why not take those dirty old books of yer and stuck them up to yer ass?” Okay, maybe that had been a bit too much. What she had said was true, Iris thought, but people were so damn sensitive nowadays and got mad if someone spoke aloud some uncomfortable truths about them. Perhaps she could still save the situation somehow. “Could ya… go to yer sissy’s place and… get some more booze for mi?” Iris asked in as soft voice as she possibly could. Silke had apparently forgotten herself to stare at Iris for a moment again. Her jaw was hanging wide open. Then she finally blinked like she would’ve snapped out of some kind of trance. She inhaled deeply and started to gabble: “Well excuse me, princess! Water would actually help you, since obviously you’ve gotten yourself a big fat alcohol poisoning. It ain’t some rocket science, so even a bunny-eared potato like you should understand such a concept…” She tossed her bangs and some longer locks away from her face, but the bunch of hair only fell immediately back to where it had been. “And I’m sure you know where The Second Circle is located. If you want your damn drinks so badly you can scurry there by your own little feets. Do I look like some damn maid to you? Geez…” Iris couldn’t do anything but to blink as well. For a moment she wasn’t sure what to say. She had hardly ever seen her friend like this. She got up and started to walk towards her, supporting herself by leaning into the couch. Suddenly she noticed a book laying on it, and for a reason yet unknown, decided to pick it up. The cover said something about aether currents, but Iris didn’t care enough to focus more on the thing. She turned back to Silke, waving the book in her hand. “Dat whut I am to ya, sweetheart? A potato?” she asked. “Well, dis explains quite a lot of things! Ya never even see mi! Ya fockin’ ignore mi! Ya have any idea how much I want ya!? And yer just playin’ with mi! And now I know why! Dis damn piece of crap matters to you more than I ever do!” She gave one final look at the book before flipping it into the fireplace behind her back. “But ye know whut? Yer wrong! Ya should be BLISSFUL for someone actually showing interest in ya! No wonder they peck ya at dat school of yer.” Silke just stared in horror as the book flew into the fire. Apparently it took a moment for her brain to process of what was happening. She leapt over the sofa, crouched next to the fireplace and tried to save the tome, but it was too far on the other side of the flames and she quickly yanked her hand away with a sharp “Shiteberries!” Iris followed her struggle, smirking slyly. “…Point proven…” Silke watched the book burning for a while, her back turned to Iris. “Do you have any idea how much those things cost?” she asked quietly after a while. “As a student my income is quite crappy…” She slowly stood up and turned to look at Iris, who could see a hint of red on her pale cheeks. “What the fock is the matter with ya, Lareine?!” Silke started to scream. “I don’t give a damn what you’ve drunk or taken or what kind of stupid drama you have with others but for gods’ sake don’t take it out on me! Oh, and mebbe if YOU drank a bit less and wouldn’t be such a rectum people wouldn’t be throwing you out of places! And you know, I’m rather just by myself and keep sticking my tomes up to my asshole than hang out with a nut job POTATO like you.” Her right hand seemed to be very tensed up and her fingers were frozen into a position like the hand would’ve been cramping. Iris noticed a small flicker of fire in her palm before she squeezed her hand shut, extinguishing the fledgling fireball. “I think you should go”, Silke said numbly. At first Iris was about to turn and leave. Then she changed her mind. She wouldn’t let anyone who had reviled her this gravely go so easily. She walked up to Silke, raising her chin with her finger. Iris was more than aware of her breath smelling like last night, and maybe even the night before. “Dat’s what ya want? Mi to leave?” she asked in a hoarse voice. “And… here I thought you of all people would understand. But it seems I was wrong. Yer no better than the rest of dem… No one in dis fockin’ world gets mi… But how could they? We could have been somethin’ beautiful… If ya did not focking fall asleep on mi!” Iris leaned forward, slipping her hand below Silke’s hair to hold her head in place and kissed her violently on the lips. Silke shivered in disgust, pushed Iris away from her and took a long leap backwards. Suddenly a small, turquoise creature appeared next to her from thin air. Iris didn’t know much about magic, but she had seen them around. It was an emerald carbuncle, the first creature beginner summoners learned to call forth from the other side of the rift. Except that this one was half smaller than they usually were. The tiny thing was barely bigger than Silke’s moogle slippers. Silke glanced at it confused, like summoning it wouldn’t even have been a conscious thing to do. Then she turned back to Iris, her gaze full of disbelief and disgust. Laurence had also appeared from somewhere and flashed his teeth and growled at Iris from behind the couch so that only his head was showing. He had tucked his ears back so tightly into his neck hair they had disappeared from sight, which made him look like an orange, bloodthirsty seal. “You’ll either walk away from here by yourself or you’ll be taken out on a stretcher carried by medics, princess~!” Silke proclaimed. She was smiling like a lunatic, eyes full of tears. Iris glared at the shiba inu staring back at her with a demonic grimace and an ugly, low growl. Even the damn dog who usually lay on her lap on his back, all paws pointing in different directions while she was petting his tummy, had turned against her. Iris turned back to Silke, full of rage just waiting to be released, but once she noticed tears in Silke’s eyes, all of her anger just dispersed. This woman never cried. Never. Or did she? “S… Silke?” Iris whispered, taking just one step closer, rising her hand towards Silke. “Don’t touch me”, Silke said, her voice forced calm. “Do not ever touch me again. Get the fock out and don’t show your face around here anymore!” She strode next to her big bookshelf, started to pull tomes out of the tight rows and throwing them at Iris. “You wanna burn my stuff? Here, take it! And this one? And mebbe this one too?” She giggled mindlessly. Iris gasped as the first book flew through the air. She ducked under it, dodging it barely, only to see more to come. The second and third barely missed her, but the fourth, a large brown one with leather covers hit her on shoulder. She lost her already questionable balance and fell onto the floor. She couldn’t recall the last occasion recently she would’ve been so terrified. “Silke… Silke!” Iris tried to call her. “Sweetie…! Silke, stop it!” Silke kept throwing more tomes at her but she quickly became exhausted. That didn’t stop her, though. “Out! OUT!” she yelled and pointed towards Iris. The tiny carbuncle twirled like trying to perform some sort of attack, but it only managed to create a light breeze that didn’t do basically anything. Silke let out a frustrated sound and started marching towards Iris. She grabbed a broomstick laying on the floor and started blindly whacking Iris with it. “OUT, OUT, OUT!” she screamed. “I’m not your focking sweetie!” Iris crawled backwards on the floor while being pummeled. She tried her best to cover her head, but a couple of swings found their mark. “P-please, Silke!” tears started running freely down Iris’ cheeks, as she curled up under the swings, too exhausted to move any longer. “S… Silke, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” Iris held her head, crying inconsolably, like all the grief gathered during her drunken night would’ve been breaking out at once, her tears washing away her anger. But where Iris had just reached the end of her fury, Silke’s had just ignited. She let out a scornful laugh. “That shite has gotten old already, honey, there’s no point to try it out on me anymore”, she hissed. When Iris stopped moving, Silke threw the broom away and marched to the door. She swung it wide open, returned to Iris and started to drag her along the floor and over the doorstep, grunting and groaning on the way. When Iris was completely on the other side of the door, Silke stepped gracefully over her. “There’s a drunk tank close by, only two blocks straight ahead when you step out of the main door”, she stated coolly. Iris forced herself to look up and was able see the last glimpse of Silke’s teary eyes, before the door was slammed shut in front of her and locked. Million things raced through her mind at the same time. Her head had started to clear up. She saw little Tora, weeping in front of her, covered in her own blood, her beautiful yukata ripped to pieces. She saw Mori, sitting in a corner, cradling what was left of her beloved music stand. And lastly, she saw Silke’s face when she had backed out from her kiss. Tears on her beloved friend’s face. All of her friends. What was she even thinking? Iris looked down at her hands, still covered in blood and who knows what. She got up, and with her legs feeling heavy and her mind even heavier, she started to slouch away from Silke’s door. Not towards the bar, nor the drunk tank. But towards the small cafe in the Jeweled Crozier. She would get a cup of tea, clear her head, and then… She did not know. She would try to fix things. Or at least some of it.

But was it all beyond saving? --- With @iris-ymir​ :3

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #rp #viera #silke doomflare #iris ymir #veena #repost from the old blog #stories

[angelofthequeers]

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 36

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Chapter 35 | Chapter 37 | AO3 link

“Don’t forget to hand in your homework!” Ms Bustier says. Everyone dutifully rummages around in their bags, but Marinette’s heart freezes in her chest when her fingers don’t land on her paper despite feeling every inch of her bag.

“What! No!” she cries, feverishly tearing through her bag. “I know I put it in here!”

“You forgot your homework?” Alya says. “Girl –”

“No, I didn’t forget it! I know I didn’t!” Marinette says. “I distinctly remember putting it in my bag!”

“Marinette, where’s your homework?” Ms Bustier says, having noticed the commotion.

“I didn’t forget it, I swear!” Marinette says. “I know I’m a mess, but I know I had it this morning!”

But as she looks around the classroom, it’s clear that no one believes her. No one apart from Adrien and maybe even Chloé, that is. Even Alya looks a little sceptical.

“It’s not the first time you’ve forgotten to hand in your homework, Marinette,” Lila says with a sympathetic tut. “Are you having trouble with your class representative duties?”

“Lila has a good point,” Ms Bustier says. “It’s not very responsible of a class representative to constantly forget their homework. Maybe we should –”

“Oops,” Chloé says loudly. Everyone’s heads swivel to her, where she’s holding her bag open in plain view, while Sabrina shifts and makes a sound like crinkling paper. “Sabrina and I didn’t have time to finish our homework, Ms Bustier. We should totally have another day to finish it.”

“I – well –” says a flustered Ms Bustier. “I don’t think –”

“– that my daddy would want to hear about this?” Chloé tilts her head. “Yeah, I really don’t think he’d appreciate hearing that I’m being punished for not getting to finish my homework instead of being given an extra night to do it. He sent me here expecting me to get a quality education, you know.”

Well. It’s not entirely good of Chloé to threaten Ms Bustier with her influence like this but…Marinette had mentioned directing her attitude towards good, hadn’t she? And it’s not like Chloé’s trying to hurt anyone, unlike every other time she’s pulled the “Daddy” card. Baby steps.

“I suppose when you put it that way…” Ms Bustier says.

“Excellent,” Chloé says. “Marinette, you’re coming over tonight and we’re doing it together. I’ll make sure she hands it in tomorrow.”

“Um…thanks?” Marinette says. It’s not that she’s ungrateful for what Chloé’s doing. She’s just…not used to Chloé being a force of chaotic good rather than chaotic evil.

“That’s, um…very good of you, Chloé,” Ms Bustier says. Chloé smirks and flips her ponytail, and her disguised Bee comb glints in the sunlight.

“I know.”

Marinette ends up zoning out for the rest of class, until the bell rings for lunch. To her surprise, she, Alya, Adrien, and Nino are joined by Chloé and Sabrina on their way out, and even Nathaniel and Alix tag along.

“Thanks for what you did back there,” Marinette says. “But I know I put my homework in my bag!”

“Yeah, you’ve said it enough times,” Chloé says. “But do you really think anyone’s gonna believe you? You’re an airhead, remember?”

“Touching,” Alya drawls. Chloé rolls her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Marinette, I’ll help you get it done!” Sabrina says. “Now that Chloé’s doing her own homework and I’m tutoring her, I can help you as well!”

“I just don’t get it,” Marinette says. “It’s not even the homework. Everything’s been going wrong for like a week now.”

“You know, you’ve got a point,” Adrien says. “Like the time that bucket nearly fell on your head in the locker room.”

“Or the time you tripped in the courtyard even with Alya holding your arm,” Nino says.

“Or the time you sat in that bucket of paint in art club,” Nathaniel says.

“And it so wasn’t there at first!” Alix says.

“Or the time your pen exploded!” Sabrina says. “It’s like you’re cursed!”

“Or like someone’s sabotaging her,” Chloé says. “Duh.”

“But who?” Alya says as they reach the stairs leading down to the courtyard. “The only person who hated her enough to do something like this was you. No offence.”

Chloé shrugs. “It’s true. Not that I ever went this far. So, you must’ve really pissed someone off.”

“I just wish I knew who!” Marinette says. “I can’t think of any – wah!”

One moment, she’s walking down the stairs. The next, something slams into her from behind and she’s flat on her face on the concrete, with sharp pain zinging through her left arm every time she so much as breathes, while the world swims around her. There’s a flash of gold and green that focuses into a mop of messy blond hair and striking green eyes, crinkled as they loom over her, and they flash when something touches her arm and she screams as the agony shoots up her arm and jabs her brain.

“– careful –”

“– who shoved me –”

“– pushed me into her –”

“– don’t touch her!”

“– call an ambulance!”

“– is it broken –”

“Akuma!”

There’s screaming all around her. Someone helps her up, careful not to touch her arm, and she’s led away from the chaos by an iron grip, and she follows because what else can she do? The world’s still fuzzy all around her.

“Oh, dear,” the person tuts. There’s a flash of red and brown. “Poor little Marinette. You’ve really hurt yourself, haven’t you?”

Marinette lets out a weak groan.

“Not to worry,” the person says. “I’ll make sure you’re safe and sound. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, right? How would our dear hero Chat Noir focus?”

“Lila!” calls a familiar voice. Gold and green. Chat Noir? “I’ll get Marinette somewhere safe. You should hide!”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all, Adrien!” says the red and brown person. Lila? “I know how much you care for Marinette –”

“That’s why I’ll get her somewhere safe.” This new touch is softer, gentler, not like a vice trapping her and leading her around. “Go and hide, Lila.”

“But –”

“Go!”

Marinette finds herself spacing out as she’s led in another direction, and she’s not sure how much time passes before she’s guided to sit down in…a classroom, right? That’s what her hazy brain is telling her. Adrien squeezes her non-injured hand and says, “Stay here, alright? Ladybug and Chat Noir will take care of the akuma and then we can get help for your arm.”

“K,” Marinette slurs. Then Adrien’s gone, and a small red figure is floating in front of her face. Tikki!

“Marinette!” Tikki says. “You have to transform!”

“Hurts,” Marinette whimpers.

“I know but transforming will help you deal with the pain!” Tikki says. “It won’t be healed or painless, but you’ll be able to think clearly.”

“T-Tikki…spots on…”

The searing pain in her arm dulls once the pink light around her fades. Although it still burns to move her arm even a fraction, the pain isn’t so bad that Ladybug can’t focus on what needs to be done. And right now, what needs to be done is defeating this akuma.

“This is gonna be hell,” she mumbles when she staggers out of the classroom and her arm throbs in time with each step. Why can’t the transformation take all the pain away? This sucks. And her Miraculous Ladybug won’t even fix it, since it’s not due to an akuma attack. What the hell had she tripped on? Then again, she doesn’t need to trip on anything to go down like a bowling pin, what with her clumsiness.

“Milady!” Chat Noir skids to a halt next to her. His brow furrows when he takes in how she’s trying desperately to avoid moving her left arm. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, kitty,” Ladybug says with a forced grin. “Just a minor injury. I can still kick this akuma’s butt!”

“Are you sure? It looks painful.”

“I’ll be fine. I just tripped and landed wrong. But Ladybug can’t take a break, so let’s go!”

A fresh wave of pain washes over Ladybug as she takes off running, and an involuntary gasp escapes her before she can hold it back. Chat Noir’s immediately by her side, guiding her to the nearest classroom despite her protests.

“What are you doing? They need Ladybug! They need me!” she says when Chat Noir shuts the door.

“I know, bugaboo,” he says. “They need Lucky Charm and they need the cure. But I can’t watch you kill yourself trying to do this. Do you trust me?”

“What? Of course I do! What kind of question is that?” Ladybug says. Chat Noir stops in front of her, and his green cat eyes are so serious, devoid of their usual playful spark, that she’s rendered unable to say another word.

“Close your eyes,” Chat Noir says. “And trust me.”

“Chat –”

“Just trust me! Please. I can’t stand seeing you in this much pain.”

Ladybug chews her lip, then reluctantly closes her eyes. After a moment, she hears, “Claws in” and there’s a bright flash of light behind her eyelids.

“Chat!”

“Just detransform, Ladybug. I know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t – I just –” This is ridiculous! They have to get out there and face the akuma! “Spots off!” she blurts out, and the pain in her arm doubles as her transformation fades, and she would have fallen over and blacked out if not for Chat Noir guiding her to sit down, fumbling with his free hand since he’s no doubt got his eyes closed as well.

“Hey, Sugarcube,” says a scratchy voice that Marinette had heard only once before, when she’d been cornered on the Eiffel Tower with Rena Rouge.

“This isn’t the time for cute nicknames, Plagg!” Tikki says. “Ad – Chat Noir, what’s going on?”

“There’s no way Ladybug can fight like this,” Chat Noir says. “But we need her powers. So…” A warm hand feels around on the desk until it finds hers, and then a small, cool object is slapped into her palm. A moment later, Chat Noir’s hands scrabble at her head until they find her ears.

“Are you crazy?” Marinette bursts out, groaning when her head spins despite her eyes being closed. “We can’t just swap Miraculouses! Do you have any idea how to use mine? We could be handing them to Hawkmoth on a silver platter!”

“We’re definitely doing that if you go out and fight like that,” Chat Noir says. Having finally unpinned her earrings, his hands withdraw, and he’s silent for a moment. “I’m the cunning, ultra-charming Chat Noir, remember? Now you get to wear the clown costume for the day and take it easy.”

“Chat –”

“Hey. We’re a team, bugaboo. We have each other’s backs. If you need me to do the heavy lifting this time, that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“I agree with Chat Noir,” Tikki says.

“Tikki!” Marinette protests.

“You’re hurt! There’s no way you’ll be able to fight nearly as well as you normally do!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you too much,” Chat Noir says. Marinette rolls her eyes behind her eyelids, even if he can’t see it. “Look, I know there’s no way I can get you to stay out of the fight. You’re Ladybug, and you’re stubborn and go for whatever you want, and that’s why I fell for you in the first place. I know I’ll feel better if you’re in my costume and you’ve got my job, and I know Rena and Carapace and Honeybee would feel the same.”

As much as Marinette loathes to admit it, Chat Noir’s right. Wielding the earrings in her current state would pretty much be gift-wrapping them for Hawkmoth…not to mention that there would be an increased risk of someone realising that her arm’s hurt and putting two and two together. If she’s wielding the Black Cat and she’s not the focus, she just might be able to get away with this.

“Fine,” she sighs. “I don’t like it but you’re right. What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn, milady,” Chat Noir says. “What do I say to transform?”

“Spots on!” Tikki says.

“And claws out for moi,” Plagg says.

“Wait,” Marinette says. “Tell Ryuuko not to show up. I don’t think we’ll need her for this fight, and we want to keep Hawkmoth’s attention away from the zodiacs for as long as possible. I mostly picked her to be sure that we’d have an even team but there’s no point in revealing her until we absolutely have to.”

“Right.” There’s the sound of shuffling as Chat Noir turns around so he can open his eyes, followed by the tapping of him typing out a quick message on his phone. “Alright. Tikki, spots on!”

“Plagg, claws out!”

Marinette opens her eyes at the same time as Chat Noir. For a moment, they say nothing, just drinking in each other’s changed appearances. Chat Noir’s Ladybug suit is armoured without being overly bulky, red with black spots down his chest, stomach, inner thighs, shoulders, and forearms, and black down his upper arms, sides, and the outside of his legs, to his ladybug-patterned boots. The ladybug pattern on his forearms tapers into a sharp point over the back of his hands, giving way to black gloves, and his golden hair is just as ruffled as when he’s Chat Noir. But the most striking feature is the eyes behind his ladybug mask, just as bright, oceanic blue as when she’s Ladybug. She’s seen her eyes in pictures but…never in person like this.

“Wow…” Marinette pushes herself to her feet and takes a step forward, against her will, and reaches up with her uninjured hand to brush her fingers against Chat Noir’s cheek. “Is that really what my eyes look like when I’m transformed…?”

Chat Noir swallows, but he doesn’t back away and ask what she’s doing like she’s expecting. Instead, he cracks a grin and says, “Well, you look simply ameowzing in my suit, milady Noire.”

Lady Noire. Hmm. She can work with that. “You pull off spots pretty well yourself, Mister Bug,” she says. Chat Noir – Misterbug – groans.

“I am not going by that name,” he says.

“Too late,” Lady Noire sing-songs. “Come on, we’ve got an akuma to catch! Ready to step into the spotlight?”

Misterbug unslings his yo-yo and gives it an experimental twirl. Lady Noire fights to conceal a grin when he nearly hits himself in the head and is forced to dodge it with a yelp.

“So long as you’re ready to be the clown, milady,” he replies, then bows and gestures to the door. “After you.”

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #aotq fic #aotq: hold me #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #chloe bourgeois #sabrina raincomprix #lila rossi #anti-lila #lila sucks #ugh #nathaniel kurtzberg #alix kubdel #injury #injured marinette #kwami swap #misterbug #lady noire #yeah i kinda had to #how could i not

[vannahfanfics]

Romance Dawn

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Characters: Natsu Dragneel, Lucy Heartfilia

Requested by: @searchfortheonepiece (Tumblr)

“-Happy birthday dear Luuuuucyyyyy! Happy birthday to youuuuu~!”

Lucy’s cheeks were glowing an animated, happy pink as they hollowed for her to suck in a breath, then inflated as she released it to extinguish the sputtering little flames ornamenting the handful of candles that were decorating her birthday cake. As soon as the fires were diminished, Lucy’s eager fingers plucked the wax constructions from the cake; the sooner she could have that mouthful of delicious confection in her mouth, the better! Mirajane’s cooking and baking skills were both legendary, and the creamy texture of the buttercream icing and the flecks of moist cake dropping from the ends of the candles had Lucy’s mouth nearly drooling. Mirajane, seeing her squirm in anticipation, chuckled and wasted no time in carving a large sliver from her creation. No sooner than it dropped down on a plate in front of her did Lucy dive into it was a plastic fork. She nearly melted into a puddle on the spot.

“Oh my God, Mirajane, it’s delicious!” Her compliment was a bit distorted from the square of cake that was bulging in her cheeks, but Mirajane received it well enough.

“Why, thank you, Lucy. Happy birthday!”

As per tradition, the guild had orchestrated a massive birthday party to celebrate Lucy turning one year older. Following the eating (or, absolute destruction of) the birthday cake, the members participated in a number of fun, zany party games that of course took a turn for the deadly as the more monstrously powerful mages got a little bit too competitive. Juvia had to put out at least four fires that Natsu started, Natsu and Gray got in no less than seven fistfights, and somehow poor Wendy got suspended by the back of her dress from the chandelier and cried until Gajeel got her down. It was no less than what Lucy expected from a Fairy Tail party, and she thoroughly enjoyed it; however, even she had her social meter, and thus when everyone was occupied watching Cana and Erza in a beer-chugging contest, she stole out of the front entrance for a brief moment of respite.

They had been at it since about ten in the morning. As she closed the guild’s door quietly shut behind her, she was a little amazed that the sun was setting already. How time flies, she marveled silently. The sun was only halfway down the sky, a thin streak of blue hovering over a cascade of yellow, orange, then deep red as the burning ball of light encroached on the cityscape that housed the Fairy Tail guild. The buildings were thrown into deep shadows as they eclipsed the roiling sun. Violet began to spill down from the north, slowly seeping into the slimming trail of blue sky like ink traveled down a page. A small, content smile was on Lucy’s face as she leaned up against the outside wall of the guild watching the beautiful sunset. Life really was all able the simple pleasures. One by one, the stars blotted into existence, little glittering diamonds on a fluttering cape of night.

“Hey, Lucy. What’re you doin’ out here?” Lucy’s brown eyes tore away from the splendorous display as she was suddenly address. The wooden door clicked shut behind Natsu as he stepped out onto the cobblestone street, looking at her with curious green eyes slightly offset with the tilt of his head. Before he could ask if she was dissatisfied in some way, she gave him a light, reassuring smile.

“Ah, I just came out here to get some fresh air, that’s all! Who won the drinking contest?”

“Cana did, of course. Now Erza’s sloshed,” he answered. The sag in his shoulders and weary expression combined with the faint rumbling of upended tables and slung chairs echoing from within the massive building indicated that Erza’s rage had been released upon the poor denizens of the guild. No wonder Natsu snuck outside too; he was sure to be caught up in it in one way or another if he lingered too long. His face only held that uncomfortable frown for a moment before it brightened to that beautiful, sunny smile that Lucy loved so dearly. Lucy loved so many things about him- that cotton-candy tufty hair that she so longed to run her fingers through, his magnetically energetic personality that seemed to draw her in so powerfully, those green eyes that shone like a grassy summer meadow threaded with emerald flowers… Yet, it was that smile that always captured her, so pure and alight with unbridled joy and child-like affection. Seeing it always made Lucy’s heart clench in her chest- both from the absolutely absurd adorableness and the fact that Natsu likely didn’t see Lucy in the way she saw him. Ugh, don’t think about stuff like that right now… It’s your birthday, dammit!

“Wow, it’s gettin’ dark fast,” Natsu commented as he walked over to lean up against the wall beside her, hands slipped into the pockets of his baggy shorts. He was entire head taller than her, so she had to crane her neck to look at him; the way he was intently staring up at the setting sun made her suck in a small breath. The light played over him beautifully; his sharp jawline was accented into a ridge sharper than Erza’s blades as the shadows passed over his body, and in other areas his skin took on a golden hue from the intensity of the sun’s final moments. His green eyes sparkled with hidden flecks of treasured gold, while his cotton-candy hair seemed to burn all the brighter atop his head, almost the color of azaleas. Lucy’s cheeks flashed that color as his green eyes flickered to meet hers; she was all but caught red-handed gawking at him like a lovestruck teenager. His canines flashed at her as a smug grin spread across his features. “Anyway, Lucy, I have a present for you.”

“Oh?” Her embarrassment was immediately forgotten at the promise of a gift. He turned such that he was propped up against the wall at an angle, large bicep molding into the grain of the wood as his other hand fished deep into his pocket. Lucy’s eyes widened as, with a triumphant grin, his arm flew up to reveal a fist wrapped around the slightly swaying silver chain of a pendant necklace. A couple of little star charms hung on the end of the necklace, and the celestial mage immediately felt her heart swell to the point of bursting with gratitude. “Oh, Natsu… It’s so pretty…” she whispered as delicate fingers rose to run over the white enamel decorating the little silver star shapes. Natsu grin was brighter than the setting sun overhead.

“Lemme put it on for you!” he said with a motion for her to turn around. Lucy did as bid, her hand smoothly sliding her blonde pigtails away from the nape of her neck to allow him unrestricted access. She could not hide the sharp inhale of breath as his fingers ghosted over her skin, raising the small, light hairs at the base of her scalp at his feather-like touches. His nimble, sure hands attached the clasp at the back of her neck and the charms fell down against her chest, and Lucy thought that would be that; however, her entire body stiffened as she was greeted with an unexpected and riveting sensation- Natsu’s lips, pressed against the small patch of skin just above where the chain wound around her slender neck. The tension of the chords of muscles in her body prompted him to push his lips further against her skin and give a sultry murmur of her name.

“N-Natsu,” she stammered and compulsively reached up to enclose a hand around the star charms dangling at her neck, though she hadn’t the faintest idea why; perhaps, she was in desperate need to ground herself on something corporeal, lest she float away from the sheer amount of helium-like bliss bubbling up inside her body. Natsu seemed to realize that she was in no way resisting. Lucy audibly evidenced that as she breathed a deep, shaky sigh at the feeling of his hands returning to her neck, one steadying over the pulsing beat of her jugular while the other slid forward to gently cup her chin, slowly pulling her face back over her shoulder. Lucy’s hazy brown eyes were met with emerald pools of yearning desire and she lightly parted her lips on complete reflex. “Natsu,” she breathed again, an open invitation.

Natsu didn’t waste it.

A low moan hummed in her throat as his mouth enveloped hers. His lips were softer than clouds and sweeter than honey, melting over hers like the finest chocolate. The fluffy pink fibers of his hair weaved into her own long, trailing blonde strands as he moved rhythmically against her, like he wanted to feel every centimeter of her mouth and then some. The hand resting at the side of her neck slowly crept forward to push over the hand that was holding the star charms in a white-knuckled grip, slowly teasing her fingers apart to entwine them tightly with his. When they finally broke apart, they were both a little winded, their huffing pants for air mingling in the very thin stretch of July air between their faces. Lucy’s eyes fluttered as she remained momentarily suspended in the lusty haze, while Natsu beamed broadly and rested his forehead against hers.

“Happy birthday.” After the fog had finally lifted from her brain, Lucy blinked before giving him a sweet smile.

“Hehe, thank you, Natsu. I couldn’t have asked for a better present.”

As the sun finally dipped below the horizon to allow the curtain of night to fall, it signaled a new romance dawn for Lucy and Natsu’s relationship…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#fairy tail #nalu #natsuxlucy #lucyxnatsu #lucy x natsu #natsu x lucy #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #fairy tail fanfiction #faniry tail fanfic #fairy tail fic #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #oneshot collection #romance #fluff

[khazadspoon]

Wow I'm totally sending one then!! Wang zhi/emperor, kiss prompt 50 : A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.

I am generally happy to write anything that isnt underage or noncon so if you have an idea just shoot it at me, chances are I can come up with something! 

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He knew it was a dream. The room was hazy, there was a heaviness to his limbs that was usually present in his dreams, and there were silken red curtains instead of doors. 

There was always red in his dreams. Once he had been told it was because he was the son of heaven, his position as Emperor blessed by the heavens to be prosperous and peaceful. He wandered the palace and marveled at the blank faces of the attendants and officials that passed him. As he entered his private study, there was a face that wasn't blank. 

Wang Zhi stood in the centre of the room, his back straight and his eyes brightly determined. The Emperor could see every detail of his face; the dark eyes, long lashes, the subtle roundness of his face, the pink of his lips... He had long since committed them to memory in strange fascination with the young man. 

As he swept into the room, Wang Zhi strode forward. In reality that would never happen. When he entered a room, everyone bowed and deferred to him even if they seethed on the inside. But in a dream there was only Wang Zhi staring at him with blazing eyes and a curl to his lips that made something in the Emperor's stomach uneasy. 

He stepped forward anyway. 

His feet carried him across the room and placed him in front of the eunuch. Hands reached up and brushed his loose hair from his shoulders. Countless men had died because of those hands, both at his order and because Wang Zhi deemed it necessary. The hands slipped over the front of his chest and unlaced his robe, opened it, let the fabric hang at his sides like a bloody waterfall. 

Again, in reality this would never happen. In reality, Wang Zhi would be just as anxious to please and just as subservient as those other advisors. In his dream though...

Wang Zhi kept their gazes locked as he slipped the robe from his Emperor's shoulders, the fabric floating to the floor in a silent pool of shimmering red. The kiss that followed was cold - it was like stepping into the ice stores on a hot day in summer, the cold of it slow and permeating as it seeped into his skin and flowed down from his lips to his toes. 

Lips as soft petals, glistening like glazed porcelain and just delicate, moved against his own. His eyes watched unblinking as Wang Zhi kissed him in this strange dreamscape. The cold in his veins spread out to his muscles, tightened them and urged him to curl inward and into Wang Zhi's hold. It spread out to his skin, prickled as hands touched the bare skin of his arms and slipped up to grasp his hair in a loose hold. 

The dream shimmered like the red fabric as those lips traveled across his mouth, kissed the corner and trailed down the curve of his jaw. He watched the mirror image of their figures across the room. There was no mirror in this room in reality. His dream provided his eyes with all they needed, regardless.

The kisses against his jaw and neck were like the press of hot coals against his cold skin. He felt them brand him, mark him as under Wang Zhi's protection, and felt the low shuddering moan fall from his own lips. 

The room began to fall apart around him. Red silk crashed apart like dishes dashed to the ground. The ice-cool of his skin became almost unbearable as Wang Zhi kissed the flutter of his pulse, blood rushing through him like magma deep in the earth. Control, if he ever truly had any, left him as stars burst into view above them. 

The mirror showed Wang Zhi behind him, young and beautiful and loyal as he broke the world apart for his Emperor's joy.

He woke with a start, his heart pounding and the sound of the world quiet but real around him. The doors were wooden again. There were no red silks, his skin felt normal, the thrum of something in his veins not unfamiliar or strange even as his hands shook on the covers. 

It was a dream, he reassured himself. 

A dream; nothing more, but nothing less. 

#the sleuth of ming dynasty #wang zhi

[amilkaddictwrites]

Don’t Leave Me

characters: Isaac, Y/N

genre: fluff

reading time: about 7 minutes or so

Notes: Isaac speaks in the third person. 

»»————-　♡　————-««                              »»————-　♡　————-««

You ended up sitting on the floor, too lazy to get up. ‘Lullaby for a Cat’ plays right next to you from your laptop but it feels as though the melody is playing from somewhere far away. The distant light of the sunset hardly streams in through the windows as the curtains block it. With one knee up and the other knee down, you twirl the pole from the broom you used as a mic in the hand that’s resting on your knee. You’re on the floor thinking about nothing in particular while watching the golden glow from the sunset. 

Why…? What do I…?

Incomplete questions wander through your mind. Even you’re mind is hazy and too lazy to think.

I feel tired, you think. It’s exhausting. Everything is exhausting.

Time flies with no regard for speed as you sit there, contemplating about everything, yet nothing. You forget how much time passes by before you’re suddenly woken from your trance by the sound of your apartment door opening. The dim light near your door switches on and slightly brightens the room as ‘Hi Hello’ starts playing.

Click.

The door slowly falls back into place and you keep watching as the tall shadow’s feet move until they end up standing right next to you.

“Do you want to keep sitting there?” says an unvexed voice.

It was Isaac. 

“Hey,” you say lazily with a smile on your face, not even looking at him. “Yeah, just leave me the way I am. I’m just...chilling.”

Isaac doesn’t say a word, after all, he was a man of few words. He wasn’t surprised by your behaviour. It happened all the time; you being spontaneously random. He pulled out your chair as quietly as he could to place his bag on it but you could hear the silent thud the chair leg made when it made contact with the ground again. You look up at him as he slowly pulls out a pink doughnut box and a coffee cup with his restaurant’s logo on it and places them on your desk. 

Ah, what great timi...this is kind of what I wanted. He can really read my mind from so far…

He opens the box and a sweet smell reaches your nose. Sighing, you finally get an incentive to get up after sitting on the floor for so long. You wince as you realise that your butt is really numb. It kinda felt good. Numbness. But it isn’t always good either. Your numb emotions didn’t let you feel most of the time. It was emotionally draining to have numb emotions. 

You place the pole next to your bed and switch on the lights in your room for the first time in 20 hours and you quickly close your eyes as soon as the lights glared into the room. You blink a few times to get used to the bright light and look up at Isaac. He wore his usual white hoodie which did a very bad job of hiding his wispy beige-blond hair.

‘Go wash your hands,’ ordered Isaac.

You do as he says and walk sluggishly to the bathroom because you couldn’t be bothered to not listen to him. You quickly rinse your hands under the cold water. Before you could walk back to your desk, Isaac blocks your path and grabs your hand. He pulls you inside the bathroom with a strong grip and washes your hands with soap and then washes his own.

‘I’m not a little kid.’ you whine under your breath as Isaac starts drying your hands with the hand towel. 

‘How’d you end up on the floor?’

‘I was dancing...casually but then I lost my balance. I kinda landed on the closet door and just slid down until I reached the floor. You know the rest after that.’

Isaac’s mouth widens slightly into a little smile but his face returns to his usual unbothered expression. He hangs up the hand towel after drying his hands and walks past you. You follow him quietly, hands in your hoodie. Isaac sits in your chair while you choose to sit on your desk. You look into the opened box and see a non-frosted doughnut and a chocolate frosted one. 

You carefully place the plain doughnut between your fingers as Isaac concentratedly watches you. You take a bite out of it and immediately, you can feel the love that has been put in while making the doughnut. You feel warm down to every last cell in your body. Its been so long since you had any of his food.

‘Woah! It tastes so good!” you exclaim as soon as custard from the doughnut spills out into your mouth. “How is your new cafe going so far?”

“Great. Everyone loves the food.”

“As expected from the greatest chef ever!” you cheer enthusiastically.

Again, you see Isaac’s mouth broadening into a small smile and it stays for way longer than you expected it to. ‘How to Love’ starts playing when he pats you on the head a few times before turning to take his doughnut.

“How was your day? Did you get a lot of customers?”

“Good. It wasn’t busy so Isaac left the shop for Ice Bear to take care of.”

You pick up your coffee cup and take a sip. It was caramel macchiato!

He has really good taste when it comes to choosing food, you think to yourself.

The doughnut and the hot caramel macchiato were a great combination. Not before long, you realise both of you’ve finished your doughnuts. Quickly, you walk into the kitchen to wash your hands before your fingers got too sticky. Isaac follows your lead and waits to wash his hands. 

“So, what should I make for dinner?” you ask him while walking towards the fridge after you’ve dried your hands.

“Isaac’s treat,” he replies with a monotonic voice.

“How about we make dinner together? It's been a long time.”

“Actually...great idea.”

You open the fridge door but there isn’t anything useful apart from the usual milk carton. He starts walking towards you by the time you turn back to face him after closing the refrigerator. You manage to glance at his expression before your face came up to his neck.

Why does he look concerned?

All of a sudden, he pulls you into his arms and squeezes you to his chest. Without hesitation, you hug him back to let him know that he didn't need to be worried.

“Are you okay?” you ask in a soft tone. You could hear his loud, throbbing heartbeat.

“Don’t leave Isaac,” Isaac mutters.

“I could never dream of it. I don’t think I’d be able to leave you. Ever.”

Both of you stay in the same position for a few more seconds. Isaac quickly kisses you on the forehead before pulling away. However, he still has his arms wrapped around you. You look up at him. He was really tall and it hurt your neck to constantly look up at him but you do it anyway.

“So...what should we make for dinner?” you question him again with a smile.

“Do we have to decide now?”

“Not really. It’s still only six o’clock so we still have some time to decide.”

“That’s good.”

Isaac pulls you towards your bed, still having his arms around you. He didn’t feel like letting go and neither did you. Both of snuggle under your thick duvet and Isaac tugs you close to him. You place one arm on his waist and pull yourself as far as you could towards him. Isaac doesn’t resist. His warmth spreads through your body making you feel...accepted. You don’t know how to describe this warmth; it was so full of many different feelings. It didn’t matter to both of you if had dinner or not; Isaac wanted to keep you safe in his embrace and you just wanted to lie in his warmth for as long as you both possibly could. 

His lips slowly touch yours for a few seconds before he pulls away slightly, leaving only a millimetre between your lips and his. ‘Stay Here’ starts playing as you both close your eyes and slowly float into a deep slumber.

#isaac #we bare bears #i just decided to write a story with isaac in it #it might be pretty vague #isaac hasn't been in the show for many episodes #i researched as much as i could #i based a bit of isaac's personality on ice bear bc i couldn't get a lot of info on his character #like i knew the basic dialogue stuff but apart from that #there wasn't much #i also tried to give isaac more of a romantic personality #a bit #i tried y'all #on the previous one i spent 2.5 hours or so #on this one i spent 5 hours #maybe bc i had to research stuff #thank you for reading my story!! #have a great day! #love y'all and see y'all later!

[the-second-circle-ffxiv]

Rock bottom

It had been a few hours since Iris had left the estate. There was a huge gap in her night she couldn't remember anything of, so she suspected she had passed out. After she had awakened she had headed into The Forgotten Knight, bought a new bottle and staggered on the silent streets while sipping. Iris could no longer remember why, but she had got into a fight with some people. She had been overpowered and someone had had the nerve to steal her bottle. Iris hadn't been sure had she just spent all of her gil or had she also been robbed during the conflict. Either way, she had no place to go or enough gil to leave Ishgard. Then a sudden realization had struck her: she actually did have a place to go. The one final place. After a long while that had felt like an eternity Iris found her way to Silke's doorstep. She lived in a block of flats with four floors. Silke's apartment was located on the third floor, in the second one of the three outdoor stairways. The place was cheap and Iris had often noticed it - among other things - from thin wooden walls and random noise coming sometimes from upstairs, sometimes from downstairs or the apartments next door. If there was one person in the whole world who understood her, it would definitely be Silke. She was Iris' lighthouse in this cursed sea of pitch black shite. Iris leaned into the doorpost for a moment, trying to pull herself together. Finally she knocked the door. "Si... Silke!" she yelled. "Open the door, it's mi!"

It took a while for Silke to get to the door. She cracked it a bit, looking tired. Iris saw a very unfashionable combination of a poison green morning gown and pink moogle slippers from the narrow gap. Silke hadn't even tried to tame her long, black hair, which was hanging loose, partly in front of her face and all around her shoulders. The tiny shiba inu earring she had bought from a fair earlier this year was dangling in her left ear. Iris hadn’t seen her ever taking it off. "Lareine?" Silke asked in a sleepy voice. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" Then she noticed the blood and the smell and seemed to wake up. "Oh dear gods, what the heck? Come in", she urged and opened the door. Iris stepped in, struggling her way towards the sofa and fell onto it. She was probably quite a sight: covered in blood and puke and the corner of her left eye was purplish blue and swollen. Though she was too tired to care about what she smelled or looked like. "The focker threw mi out... Like I was a damn dish rag he had just used... to wipe his failures off the floor...", she explained vaguely. It wasn't necessary to say anything about herself actually wanting to leave the estate. Silke didn't need to know. The only important part of the story was how she had been thrown out. Silke closed the door and followed Iris into the living room. For a moment she was unable to do anything but stare. "What happened?" she uttered finally. "Have you fought with someone? How much have you drunk?" She was eyeing at her all over. "Oi... do you need a bathroom? How about some tea? Or can you keep it in?" Silke was fussing about like she had never seen anyone in such a state before. Iris leaned on the sofa. She could've just listened and looked at Silke forever. She always looked so nice, fancily dressed or not. She also smelled nice. Mostly her scent was ink and old parchment, at times some mild, floral perfume, and sometimes something that resembled awfully lots of gunpowder. "N-no... I kinda... used a bathroom already... Kinda... Might have been yer neighbor's bush..." Iris wasn't completely sure. The memories were hazy. "Ya... happen to have anythin'? Some fockin' ugly pig stole... my bottle." Silke's eyes widened the more the farther Iris got in her story. She opened and closed her mouth for a couple of times, trying to come up with something to say.

"Uh, you should know I'm so impulsive I can't keep any booze in my apartment. Just so that I wouldn't depend on it on bad days", she explained while giving an awkward laugh. "And even if I did have something, I definitely wouldn't give it to you. You're in need of the damn tea... and maybe at least a bit of food?" Iris could almost feel something snapping inside of her head. She turned around to see better Silke standing behind her. "Oh fock yer damn tea... Ya really think some leftover leaves floating in hot water will help mi in ani way?" In some twisted way Silke's baffled expression made Iris feel good. Silke used such a huge chunk of her time in either school, library or her apartment, that it had probably been ages since someone had roiled her boring and dull life a bit. "Ya know.. Maybe ya should keep somethin' here", Iris continued. Now that she had started, she could as well mention about some other things as well that had been more or less bothering her. "Maybe if... Maybe if ya did take a shot or two on a bad day, ya wouldn't... be so fockin' boring! Why not take those dirty old books of yer and stuck them up to yer ass?" Okay, maybe that had been a bit too much. What she had said was true, Iris thought, but people were so damn sensitive nowadays and got mad if someone spoke aloud some uncomfortable truths about them. Perhaps she could still save the situation somehow. "Could ya... go to yer sissy's place and... get some more booze for mi?" Iris asked in as soft voice as she possibly could. Silke had apparently forgotten herself to stare at Iris for a moment again. Her jaw was hanging wide open. Then she finally blinked like she would've snapped out of some kind of trance. She inhaled deeply and started to gabble: "Well excuse me, princess! Water would actually help you, since obviously you've gotten yourself a big fat alcohol poisoning. It ain't some rocket science, so even a bunny-eared potato like you should understand such a concept..." She tossed her bangs and some longer locks away from her face, but the bunch of hair only fell immediately back to where it had been. "And I'm sure you know where The Second Circle is located. If you want your damn drinks so badly you can scurry there by your own little feets. Do I look like some damn maid to you? Geez..." Iris couldn't do anything but to blink as well. For a moment she wasn't sure what to say. She had hardly ever seen her friend like this. She got up and started to walk towards her, supporting herself by leaning into the couch. Suddenly she noticed a book laying on it, and for a reason yet unknown, decided to pick it up. The cover said something about aether currents, but Iris didn't care enough to focus more on the thing. She turned back to Silke, waving the book in her hand. "Dat whut I am to ya, sweetheart? A potato?" she asked. "Well, dis explains quite a lot of things! Ya never even see mi! Ya fockin' ignore mi! Ya have any idea how much I want ya!? And yer just playin' with mi! And now I know why! Dis damn piece of crap matters to you more than I ever do!" She gave one final look at the book before flipping it into the fireplace behind her back. "But ye know whut? Yer wrong! Ya should be BLISSFUL for someone actually showing interest in ya! No wonder they peck ya at dat school of yer." Silke just stared in horror as the book flew into the fire. Apparently it took a moment for her brain to process of what was happening. She leapt over the sofa, crouched next to the fireplace and tried to save the tome, but it was too far on the other side of the flames and she quickly yanked her hand away with a sharp "Shiteberries!" Iris followed her struggle, smirking slyly. "...Point proven..." Silke watched at the book burning for a while, her back turned to Iris. "Do you have any idea how much those things cost?" she asked quietly after a while. "As a student my income is quite crappy..." She slowly stood up and turned to look at Iris, who could see a hint of red on her pale cheeks. "What the fock is the matter with ya, Lareine?!" Silke started to scream. "I don't give a damn what you've drunk or taken or what kind of stupid drama you have with others but for gods' sake don't take it out on me! Oh, and mebbe if YOU drank a bit less and wouldn't be such a rectum people wouldn't be throwing you out of places! And you know, I'm rather just by myself and keep sticking my tomes up to my asshole than hang out with a nut job POTATO like you." Her right hand seemed to be very tensed up and her fingers were frozen into a position like the hand would've been cramping. Iris noticed a small flicker of fire in her palm before she squeezed her hand shut, extinguishing the fledgling fireball. "I think you should go", Silke said numbly. At first Iris was about to turn and leave. Then she changed her mind. She wouldn't let anyone who had reviled her this gravely go so easily. She walked up to Silke, raising her chin with her finger. Iris was more than aware of her breath smelling like last night, and maybe even the night before. "Dat's what ya want? Mi to leave?" she asked in a hoarse voice. "And... here I thought you of all people would understand. But it seems I was wrong. Yer no better than the rest of dem... No one in dis fockin' world gets mi... But how could they? We could have been somethin' beautiful... If ya did not focking fall asleep on mi!" Iris leaned forward, slipping her hand below Silke's hair to hold her head in place and kissed her violently on the lips. Silke shivered in disgust, pushed Iris away from her and took a long leap backwards. Suddenly a small, turquoise creature appeared next to her from thin air. Iris didn't know much about magic, but she had seen them around. It was an emerald carbuncle, the first creature beginner summoners learned to call forth from the other side of the rift. Except that this one was half smaller than they usually were. The tiny thing was barely bigger than Silke's moogle slippers. Silke glanced at it confused, like summoning it wouldn't even have been a conscious thing to do. Then she turned back to Iris, her gaze full of disbelief and disgust. Laurence had also appeared from somewhere and flashed his teeth and growled at Iris from behind the couch so that only his head was showing. He had tucked his ears back so tightly into his neck hair they had disappeared from sight, which made him look like an orange, bloodthirsty seal. "You'll either walk away from here by yourself or you'll be taken out on a stretcher carried by medics, princess~!" Silke proclaimed. She was smiling like a lunatic, eyes full of tears. Iris glared at the shiba inu staring back at her with a demonic grimace and an ugly, low growl. Even the damn dog who usually lay on her lap on his back, all paws pointing in different directions while she was petting his tummy, had turned against her. Iris turned back to Silke, full of rage just waiting to be released, but once she noticed tears in Silke's eyes, all of her anger just dispersed. This woman never cried. Never. Or did she? "S... Silke?" Iris whispered, taking just one step closer, rising her hand towards Silke. "Don't touch me", Silke said, her voice forced calm. "Do not ever touch me again. Get the fock out and don't show your face around here anymore!" She strode next to her big bookshelf, started to pull tomes out of the tight rows and throwing them at Iris. "You wanna burn my stuff? Here, take it! And this one? And mebbe this one too?" She giggled mindlessly. Iris gasped as the first book flew through the air. She ducked under it, dodging it barely, only to see more to come. The second and third barely missed her, but the fourth, a large brown one with leather covers hit her on shoulder. She lost her already questionable balance and fell onto the floor. She couldn't recall the last occasion recently she would've been so terrified. "Silke... Silke!" Iris tried to call her. "Sweetie...! Silke, stop it!" Silke kept throwing more tomes at her but she quickly became exhausted. That didn't stop her, though. "Out! OUT!" she yelled and pointed towards Iris. The tiny carbuncle twirled like trying to perform some sort of attack, but it only managed to create a light breeze that didn't do basically anything. Silke let out a frustrated sound and started marching towards Iris. She grabbed a broomstick laying on the floor and started blindly whacking Iris with it. "OUT, OUT, OUT!" she screamed. "I'm not your focking sweetie!" Iris crawled backwards on the floor while being pummeled. She tried her best to cover her head, but a couple of swings found their mark. "P-please, Silke!" tears started running freely down Iris' cheeks, as she curled up under the swings, too exhausted to move any longer. "S... Silke, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Iris held her head, crying inconsolably, like all the grief gathered during her drunken night would've been breaking out at once, her tears washing away her anger. But where Iris had just reached the end of her fury, Silke's had just ignited. She let out a scornful laugh. "That shite has gotten old already, honey, there's no point to try it out on me anymore", she hissed. When Iris stopped moving, Silke threw the broom away and marched to the door. She swung it wide open, returned to Iris and started to drag her along the floor and over the doorstep, grunting and groaning on the way. When Iris was completely on the other side of the door, Silke stepped gracefully over her. "There's a drunk tank close by, only two blocks straight ahead when you step out of the main door", she stated coolly. Iris forced herself to look up and was able see the last glimpse of Silke's teary eyes, before the door was slammed shut in front of her and locked. Million things raced through her mind at the same time. Her head had started to clear up. She saw little Tora, weeping in front of her, covered in her own blood, her beautiful yukata ripped to pieces. She saw Mori, sitting in a corner, cradling what was left of her beloved music stand. And lastly, she saw Silke's face when she had backed out from her kiss. Tears on her beloved friend's face. All of her friends. What was she even thinking? Iris looked down at her hands, still covered in blood and who knows what. She got up, and with her legs feeling heavy and her mind even heavier, she started to slouch away from Silke's door. Not towards the bar, nor the drunk tank. But towards the small cafe in the Jeweled Crozier. She would get a cup of tea, clear her head, and then... She did not know. She would try to fix things. Or at least some of it.

But was it all beyond saving? --- With @lareine-kira​ :3c

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #viera #storytime #rp #silke doomflare #lareine kira

[heavenlydrarry]

No Regrets

Rating: T

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Genre: Post-Eighth Year

Summary: Harry is forced to go out for drinks, Draco is d.r.u.n.k.

A/N: this is for @tossermalfoy for our fic exchange! i loved all your prompts so much and this probably sucks ass but i tried my best and i really hope u like it! its the second prompt i started and then didnt have time to finish it so its kinda rushed and all but idk

Other authors: @pixiemalfoy @rosadearest @ssoftdrarry @hpotterlocked @okaypottah

“Hermione, you ask every month and I say no every month, what makes you think that this time will be different?” Harry was annoyed. Hermione had come over, like she did on the last Friday of the month, and was trying to convince Harry to go with them, her and Ron, to the monthly meet-up that their year at Hogwarts had. It had started a couple of months after eighth year, someone had proposed the idea, a Hufflepuff probably, and the rest of them had agreed that it was a great idea. It wasn’t that Harry didn’t want to see his friends, he did. He loved hanging out with Ron, Hermione and Neville, but he hated large groups, they had started to make him uncomfortable.

Harry knew that Hermione worried for him. After finishing their eighth year at Hogwarts, Harry had completely closed himself off to everyone apart from the Weasleys, Hermione, Neville and Teddy. He had become kind of a hermit, spending his days at home, sending out Kreacher to do his shopping so that he wouldn’t have to leave the house and barely meeting anyone. He knew that Hermione just wanted to see him happy and that she was trying her best to make him.

“Alright! This is the last time I’ll ask you, though! Just come out tonight! If you don’t like it or aren’t having fun, you can leave and I won’t bother you about coming out with the group ever again!” Hermione proposed, hoping that she was able to convince him this time.

The idea of Hermione not pestering him ever again after that night appealed to Harry. He slowly and thoughtfully nodded, causing Hermione to let out a loud “Whoop!” and dance around him in a circle.

“Let’s a move on, then!” Hermione grinned excitedly, pushing Harry towards his bedroom so that he could get dressed and they could finally leave.

The two of them left Harry’s house and walked into an alley to apparate to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry was quite anxious, he hadn’t seen most of his classmates in almost a year and he was worried about their reactions towards him. As he walked into the Leaky, he realised though, that he had had no reason to be anxious. Seamus and Dean were the first to see him and they immediately pulled Harry into a three-way hug, telling him how much they were glad to see him again. Harry’s heart warmed, glad that his friends weren’t angry with him or anything. Dean led them over to a large table around the back end of the pub, where everyone else was sat.

Harry took a look around, taking in the familiar faces. He saw almost all of the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors from his year and quite a few Ravenclaws too. What surprised him though, was seeing a relatively large group of Slytherins as well. Parkinson, Nott, Goyle, Zabini and Greengrass were all there, Malfoy’s old gang, but Harry hadn’t spotted Malfoy yet. Maybe he hadn’t come, thought Harry to himself. He was slightly surprised by the pang in his heart when he realised that he wouldn’t be seeing Malfoy that night. There wasn’t any animosity between him and the Slytherins anymore. Eighth year hadn’t made them friends, but they weren’t strangers either, acquaintances if he had to put a term to it. They had apologised to him and he to them. And after that, the occasional nod in the hallways had been the extent of their interactions.

He took a seat at one end of the large table, on the far end, away from the Slytherins and most of the other people. His end was sparsely occupied and that pleased Harry. At least he could have a little space for himself.

“So glad you came, mate!” Harry’s heart almost jumped out of his chest when he felt a hard thump on his back. Harry recognised the rambunctious voice of his best friend, who only seconds later appeared in his line of view, two mugs of beer and two shots of Firewhiskey floating behind him.

Harry and Ron drank those shots and followed it by the beer. The coolness of the beer soothing the slight burning feeling left behind by the Firewhiskey. A slow but steady stream of beer into his system had given Harry a slight buzz, and he was now actually glad that he had come.

“Hi Harry! It’s good to see you,” Parvati and Padma took seats opposite him, their backs facing the entrance to the pub, and grinned widely.

“You too, girls!” Harry smiled back, clinking his beer mug with theirs. “You know, I still cannot tell the two of you apart!” He laughed.

“We shared a common room for eight years, Harry!” Parvati said playfully. Harry only knew it was Parvati because of her statement.

“I have a small mole here, and Parvati doesn’t,” Padma smiled at him, pointing to a spot near her lip. Harry nodded slightly absentmindedly, his eye focused on the door behind the girls, hoping to catch even a small glimpse of the blond hair he had been looking for.

He was able to catch up with his old friends and they had all been ecstatic to see Harry again. He had also noticed that at some point during the night, Malfoy had shown up. He hadn’t seen much of the blond-haired, grey-eyed man much since he arrived, but then again, he hadn’t made an active effort to, either.

It had been a couple of hours since he had arrived at the pub and Harry was sitting alone at his end of the table again. His friends had all dispersed, talking to other people but he had wanted to stay exactly where he was. It was a good spot, he could people-watch, something he loved doing, and also still take part in the conversation if he wanted to.

“Well well, if it isn’t the infamous Harry Potter, sitting alone. Finally decided to grace us with your presence, huh,” an unmistakably familiar voice drawled from behind. Turning around and confirming his suspicions, he saw that Draco Malfoy was standing right behind, a little too close. So close, that Harry could even smell Firewhiskey on Malfoy’s breath.

“Not even going to answer, huh?” Malfoy said, coming slightly closer and almost closing the small distance between them. As Harry’s eyes search Malfoy’s, he could see that blonde was already drunk, not buzzed, but outright drunk. His eyes were hazy, his hair messy, as though he had run his hands through them almost a hundred times, and he was even swaying slightly from side to side. Not to mention the strong scent of alcohol on his breath.

“Hermione made me come here, wasn’t actually going to,” Harry shrugged, answering Malfoy’s first question. He got out if his chair and moved to help Malfoy into the chair next to him and off his unsteady feet. He had barely even touched the man, when Malfoy pushed his hands away and scrambled into the chair himself.

Once he was comfortably seated, Malfoy stared at Harry’s face and Harry stared back, neither of them uttering a word. At first, Harry watched those grey eyes, following every slight movement with his own. But then eyes travelled down Malfoy’s face, stopping for a split second at those thin, pink lips. Those lips looked extremely kissable to him, but even in his inebriated state, Harry knew that they were not friends and he definitely could not kiss him. They were civil to each other, but that was the extent of it. After what felt like minutes, actually only about 30 seconds, Malfoy broke eye contact, shaking his head a little and then looking down at his hands.

“How come you’re not an Auror? Would have thought what with you defeating the Dark Lord and all that you wouldn’t even have to do the training,” Malfoy had broken the silence, his words blunt and direct. Harry had always known him to be blunt, usually with insults, but he was surprised to hear the genuine tone in the voice.

Harry simply shrugged, not knowing what to say. He didn’t want to tell Malfoy that he was struggling with coming to terms with the end of the war and how thinking about becoming an Auror and constantly being in a similar situation scared him an awful lot. Malfoy would have probably laughed in his face, he thought.

“Someone isn’t too talkative tonight. Drunk already?” Malfoy asked and Harry grinned slightly.

“As if you’re one to talk! You are clearly drunk! And this is the most you’ve ever spoken to me, willingly!” Harry exclaimed, his grin widening as Malfoy’s expression transformed into one of shock.

“How dare you accuse me like that!” Malfoy spoke loudly, loud enough for their neighbours to turn their attention to the pair. Hermione had turned to look at them as well, and gave Harry a look, as though she was asking him if everything was alright. Harry smiled at her and nodded his head, silently telling her that everything was a-okay.

“Oh calm down, would you? We both know you are drunk,” Harry muttered. Proving his point, Malfoy reached out to stroke the side of Harry’s face with the back of his hand. Something he was sure sober Malfoy would never even think of doing.

Just then, a popular muggle song came on, a song with a fast beat that had everyone in the pub’s hips moving. Malfoy let out a loud whoop followed by an even louder “I LOVE THIS SONG!” He jumped out of his seat, grabbed Harry, effectively pulling him out of his seat and pushed their way through a crowd of people over an empty space Harry could only assume to be some kind of dance floor. Malfoy was moving his hips to the beat of the music as Harry just stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

“You’re not dancing!” Malfoy exclaimed offendedly. He grabbed onto Harry’s waist and started swinging them about, trying to get Harry to move with him to the music blaring around them. Harry tried moving with the beat, but all he could manage was an uncomfortable hip shake.

All of a sudden, Malfoy pulled him closer. So close, that Harry could feel his warm breath in his ear. He was about to pull away, but the two hands on his hips stopped him from moving too far.

“Let me teach you how to dance,” Malfoy whispered in his ear. His voice had gotten raspy and low, stirring up feelings in Harry. Unable to find his voice (he was he would have let out a squeak if he opened his mouth), Harry simply nodded.

Malfoy swayed with him to the beat, and slowly, Harry was even getting the hang of it. But then, out of nowhere, he turned around so that he was now facing away from Harry, but his backside was firmly pressed into Harry’s front. And although Harry liked, he liked it very much, his brain reminded him that this was not something sober Malfoy would have done. So very gently, as to not offend him, Harry pushed him away and grabbed his shoulder, turning him around so that they were face to face once again. Now, he wouldn’t admit this to anyone, but also hadn’t wanted Malfoy to feel the bulge forming in his pants, in case Malfoy remembered everything the next day and was utterly disgusted with him.

“You’re drunk!” Harry yelled over the loud music. “I’ll bring you home, let’s go!” Harry started to steer Malfoy away from the centre and towards where their friends and classmates were.

Malfoy was adamant, though. It was clear to Harry, that Malfoy didn’t want to leave but after couple of minutes, he gave in. Malfoy had only agreed to leave if Harry walked, or side-along apparated, him home. He had even pouted a lot, to Harry’s amusement, before coming to this agreement.

Harry bid Hermione and Ron goodbye, both of who only gave him smirks in return. His two best friends knew him better than he knew himself and they had probably already figured out whatever he was feeling currently for Malfoy. But that was the least of his concerns, at the moment. Looking around, Harry saw that Malfoy had managed to convince Zabini and Nott to give him one last shot of Firewhiskey and now he wasn’t just swaying, but literally stumbling over air and his own two feet. Eventually, Malfoy found his way back to Harry, who put his arm around the taller boy’s waist and guided him out the door.

They walked silently for a couple of minutes, Malfoy stumbling along and Harry trying to keep their balance. It wasn’t easy, considering that he himself wasn’t sober enough to walk straight, much less guide someone else. They finally got to an alley to apparate from, when Harry realised that he didn’t know where Malfoy lived. Sure, there was the Manor, but Harry wasn’t sure if Malfoy was still living there or not.

“Hey, Malfoy! Where am I appara-” Harry started to say, but was cut off by Malfoy pushing him onto a wall and pressing himself up against Harry.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” he whispered raspily in Harry’s ear, and before Harry could even ask what, Malfoy was suddenly kissing him.

Harry froze for a couple of seconds, he wasn’t entirely sure on what to do. Should he push Malfoy away, he was after all drunk and probably didn’t know what he was doing? Or should he just give in and let the kiss continue, because he knew that he wanted this feeling to never stop. It was a feeling of elation and wonder and astonishment that had gone through Harry the moment he had felt those lips, and his heart wanted to feel nothing more that just those feelings over and over again. His common sense took over, though. This was Malfoy, and he was drunk, and Harry was extremely confused. So he pushed Malfoy away, gently, not enough to hurt his feelings, because he had come to realise, in the duration on this past night, that Harry liked being around Malfoy and he definitely wanted to continue doing that.

“Let’s get you sober,” Harry said, and before Malfoy could say anything, Harry has apparated the two of them back to his house. He guided Malfoy into a chair, before summoning two sobering potions. Handing one to Malfoy, he silently knocked back his sobering potion and immediately felt a whole lot better. He watched Malfoy carefully, and saw the immediate difference in Malfoy after the potion had been taken. Malfoy had looked around the room in surprise, not recognising where he was until he saw Harry.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly and Harry just nodded. “So, did I do something utterly embarrassing?” he asked and Harry grinned. Harry started to tell him about the dance floor and eventually about the kiss in the alley as well.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts, you know,” Harry smirked and Malfoy’s cheeks went a bright pink colour. But before he knew it, Malfoy had risen up and within one quick stride, was standing in front of Harry.

“Perhaps I’d like to kiss you again, but this time with your permission,” he said, looking Harry deeply in the eye. And Harry wanted to kiss him again as well, so he simply nodded.

This time, the kiss started out slower and more cautious than the other one. But as they continued kissing, they got more and more confident, and so did the kiss. Malfoy had pushed Harry into an armchair and was straddling Harry, leaning into him and kissing him with all his might and heart. They pulled back after a couple of minutes of kissing, both of them breathing heavily, their foreheads against each other and their breaths mixing in the small space between them.

“No regrets?” Harry whispered, not wanting to break the moment.

“No regrets,” Malfoy replied.

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #fic exchange #drarry fic #its probably shit but here u go i guess #love u all lots

[builder051]

We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, although there’s only venom

Happy New Year, Veddie style.

"Geez," Eddie mutters, throwing the wadded Kleenex in the direction of the trash can.  He'd toted it out to the living room when his knees started to go numb.  There's only so much kneeling in front of the toilet a person can take.  He'd gagged over it a few times, but in the hour since, it's become a repository for disgustingly wet tissues.

Eddie drags his sleeve under his nose, grimacing at the pearlescent smear of mucous left on the fabric.

Eddie.

"Fuck."  Eddie jumps and almost chokes on the strings of sour-bitter still clinging to the walls of his throat.  "What?'

We're at war.

Eddie stares at the bare bulb under the ceiling fan until his eyes burn.  He shuts them hard, clenching his teeth and scrunching his forehead before he relaxes again.  A fresh wave of throbbing nausea washes up from his gut and down from his sinuses.  "What?" he repeats.  Spewing bodily fluids alone on the couch isn't what he planned for New Year's Eve, but Eddie's pretty sure that's what he's doing.  All he's doing.  But then again, crazier shit has happened.

Our body is at war.

"Oh."  It's hardly more than an exhale, but it turns into a hack.  Eddie throws his arm over his face, his breath gusting hot on the inside of his elbow.  Clammy sweat breaks out there and on his upper lip and the back of his neck.  He gets a vague mental image of The Magic School Bus, of all things, floating through shades of red and pink while animated immune cells stick it to prickly invaders.  There was purple stuff, too, he thinks.

Eddie.

He senses Venom's confusion, but he isn't equipped to do anything about it.  Not right now.  Spit pools under his tongue, and he sits up to hastily heed his body's warning.  Eddie leans over his knees, hanging his head over the trash and letting the saliva run silently into the bed of tissues.  He half expects it to be an artificial grapey shade, but it's clear.  Until he retches, then it's yellow.

Eddie.

"Fucking Christ," Eddie sputters.  "What?"  He dry heaves once, then throws himself backward, tipping his head against the couch cushions.  Vertigo catches up a few seconds later, and he fixes his eyes on the light again, refusing to blink even when they start to water.  He imagines a tide rising like a biblical flood threatening to spill past his lower lids, Noah's ark bobbing violently on the surface.  Eddie feels seasick enough; it doesn't seem like too far a stretch.

He exhales.  Swallows.  Reconsiders.  He's pretty sure he's gone nuts.

Strange things happen in times of war.

A swirl of shiny blackness rises from the region of Eddie's collar and carefully rearranges the hair stuck to his forehead.  The sensation is like being dabbed with liquid marble, but Eddie appreciates the gesture.

"Yeah, I..."  Eddie sighs.  It's not his firs choice of metaphor, but at least it seems to mean they're past the need for a biology lesson.  But still.  "Maybe you're right."

Rest.  Heal.

"Yeah, yeah..."  

Eddie's nose starts to run again.  He extends his arm toward the tissue box.  It's a good two feet too short to bridge the distance to the coffee table, but he's not keen on the idea of sitting up.  Venom flows from his fingertips and wraps around the cardboard box like a gentle boa constrictor.  He sets it on Eddie's chest and nudges his cheek.

"Thanks--"

There's a loud, echoing crack.  The apartment goes dark.

It jars Eddie so much he claps his hand over his mouth, an instinctive just-in-case to back up his convulsive swallow.  His heart thuds against his ribs, which suddenly feel too high and too closed.  He's just bones and mush now, like a cartoon of a lightning strike.  His body will come back when the lights flicker on.  Right?

But they don't come back on.  Another gunshot rings out, and the street lamp outside the window extinguishes in a shower of sparks.

War.

"No, hold up--" It's supposed to be figurative.  Just an analogy from an old kids' show.  But fantasies from decades past seem to have a nasty habit of turning real.  He has a hazy memory of a woman standing in front of a pile of junk in some outdated clip from MTV.  Something's here from somewhere else...  Eddie doesn’t think Nina had symbiotes in mind, though.

Ninety-nine red balloons all pop at once as the gun fires a third time.

Pain.  Hurt.  Bad.

The ceiling vibrates, sending the chain dangling from the fan into a rippling dance.  Then there's a sound like a gong.  Low, heavy, metallic.  Then another.  And another.  And another.

Eddie.

The upstairs neighbor's grandfather clock strikes six times before the tense fear leaches out of Eddie's spine, leaving goosebumps and perspiration.  "Shit."  He shakes his head.  Laughs.  Coughs till he almost gags.

Eddie.  He's bad.  We want his head.

For an instant, Eddie thinks his mouth is watering in hunger.  Then he realizes he's going to vomit.

"No, we don't." Eddie's glad the power is out so he doesn't have to see what color he's spitting up this time.  "Just some dumb fuck...  It's a thing..." he mumbles.  "New Year's Eve..."

He deserves death.  We want his head.

"I'm not gonna argue," Eddie rasps.  He finds the box of tissues on the floor and uses his foot to pull it closer.  "You're... probably right."  He uses a Kleenex to mop his face and lies back down.

We're not going after him?

"'M tired," Eddie says, yawning.  "'M sick."  Venom materializes in the hammock between his ribs, curled up in a mound like a cat or a cloud.  "And we're already at war, remember?"  He pats what would be the head and closes his eyes.

Figuratively.

"Yeah, but--" Eddie opens one eye to glare at Venom, but instead he sees a Cheshire grin split the darkness.  "Fucker."

Venom's smile only intensifies.

Right.

#venom #venom 2018 #veddie #eddie brock #sickfic #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #emeto #emetophilia #fever #flu #colds #hurt/comfort #holiday #new years eve #guns tw #throwback #is eddie a milennial? #I feel like he is #I'm acting like he is #body roommates

[ivedonestranger]

Chapters: 26/26

Fandom: Teen Titans (Animated Series), Batman: The Animated Series Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson/Raven Characters: Raven (DCU), Batman (DCU), Robin(DCU), Starfire, Garfield Logan, Victor Stone, Alfred Pennyworth, Jinx (DCU), Poison Ivy, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley Additional Tags: Romance, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Sexual Situations, robrae - Freeform, Action/Adventure, Mystery, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Tagging, Nudity, Dark Magic, Swearing, Jinx swears a lot Series: Part 1 of Candy Series Summary:

Who would have thought a piece of candy could lead to something more.

------

The pregnant pause only lasted a moment before the entire ballroom exploded into noise. The sonic blasts of Cyborg blew through the zombies that crowded them while Starfire and Raven focused on Nocturnus. The sorceress gripped her friend's hand as they spun together to mix their powers in a move they perfected a long time ago.

Nocturnus screamed in agony and fury as the barrage of power descended on her. Jinx poured every ounce of her magic upwards toward Nocturnus while Raven and Starfire pummeled it from the top. The creature fell towards the ground before zipping around like a caged bird trying to escape. Raven focused her energy and lashed out with a tendril strike Nocturnus hard.

The creature hissed and pieces of fabric ripped away to dissipated into energy, but at the same time, Raven felt the sickening feeling strike her. She landed on the ground lightly while Beast Boy, in the form of a gorilla threw zombies around like rag dolls.

"Over here, greenie!" Pink Phantom yelled. Beast Boy grabbed her and hurled her towards a group of zombies. Terror filled Raven for a moment but the parasol popped open and a blast of electrical energy fried the creatures in the way.

Raven felt a bit of trickle run down her upper lip, and a quick touch showed blood. The memory of the feeling came back from the time on the yacht. A small idea began to form in her head.

"Jinx! It's a necrotic aura!" Raven called out to the hex witch that was dancing around zombies and slicing them with her powers.

"Disruption spell?" She asked out of breath.

"Only option. We can keep wiping out minions, but if we don't take out the host, it's not going to stop."

Jinx nodded and skidded to a halt before putting her hands together and then pulling them half a foot apart. She began to chant, and her eyes took on a pink hue that contrasted against the green that filled the remnants of the ballroom.

Raven closed her eyes for a moment to channel her soul-self towards Jinx assisting in the spell that she was forming. The sorceress gritted her teeth when he felt Nocturnus shift in the magic ether that surrounded them.

"Keep her off of us!" Raven commanded.

"Come on, Ugly! Come to papa!" Cyborg shouted emptying his cannons at the creature. S

"Yeah! Come to the papa, you thorgbriger!" Starfire said ripping at it with starbolts.

The energy continued to compile, and Raven felt Jinx shutter as she poured the chaos magic into the spell. Raven spoke her mantra under her breath as she steadied the spell that was forming with her own.

"You gotta hurry, honey," Jinx gasped out in a ragged breath. "I'm losing it."

Raven sent a pulse of urgency and impression of what she needed towards Robin, and to her surprise and delight, he heard his strong voice command the team to move the creature towards them.

"We got one shot, "Jinx's voice sobbed out. Raven could feel the pain irradiating from her body. The poor girl had never channeled so much into the spell, but they had to be sure.

Opening her eyes, Raven saw it. The hideous monster of moving cloth and no face charging down at her with a shriek of agony and fury. Gripping the floating pink ball of energy, she pulled it from Jinx's grip with her own shadow tendrils and hurled it at the creature.

The wail reverberated through the hall as the thing realized what had happened and knew it could not avoid it. The pink ball struck it in the chest and instantly the necrotic energy that surrounded Natalie began to burn away in a pink and onyx fire. In seconds, the body of a blond girl dropped from the mixture of power to land with a sickening thud on the floor below twisted and unmoving. Raven could see the vacant stare and mouth agape of Robin's once-girlfriend staring into eternity.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" the hazy monstrosity shrieked as the fires burned at it.

"Go to hell you bastard," Raven spat at it with fury.

Like the story? You can continue on your favorite website:

Fanfiction.Net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13052376/26/Candy

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15858042/chapters/44449612

#teen titans #teen titans robin #teen titans jinx #teen titans raven #ravenclaw #robin #robrae #robrae forever #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic