THESE MINEFIELDS • LMH•villain au; somewhere between angst and fluff; mention of injury, blood, and death; 815 words; for @meanhly♡
Your dress was white and stark against the ruination around you. The flowers Minho had carefully wound into your hair every day smiled, whispering shy welcome against his skin as he rested his forehead against yours. Like a man folded into deep prayer, and you were his hallowed temple. He clutched your cold, clasped hands in his bloodied grip and hoped, with all the remains of his tattered soul.
whatever your opinion about aang not killing ozai, I think we can all agree that ozai would have literally rather died than live the rest of his life as That Guy Who Got The Shit Kicked Outta Him By A 12-Year-Old Pacifist Monk.
me: aang is a very powerful avatar and the fact that he was able to mostly-master all the elements at such a young age means he would be a terrifying opponent!
also me: avatar roku’s spirit spends at least 30% of his time haunting ozai, slapping trash can lids together & yelling “you got beat up by caillou”
Belayed - Created for @niceandaccurateseas zine in 2021 - This was a monstrous comic in terms of research and drawing and I am so damn proud of how it turned out!
Pairing: Draken | Ryuuguji Ken x Reader, mentions of Hanma Shuuji x Reader
Rating:Mfor Mature
Warnings: infidelity, not poly, Draken stealing Hanma’s girl (but it’s consensual and she is very into it), no smut but it’s implied.
A/N: pls this is the first thing i’ve written in ages and i’m not that proud of it lmao. i love draken so much but writing him is so, SO difficult for me; it makes me want to cry. this started out as a bday present for him but morphed into some ugly “leave hanma for the good guy” piece lmao. i still love you shuuji, but draken— come on. (side note: draken is the only man i would leave hanma for. it’s just… draken, yk?)
You’ve always had a knack for getting in trouble.
It’s never really made sense. You’re a nice girl with good grades and a career that you’ve been working for since you graduated high school on the horizon, your name and trouble shouldn’t even be in the same sentence. However, mischief seems to lurk around every corner as far as you’re concerned; how else would you have wound up here?
Here, stumbling through the door to your home with someone who doesn’t belong there.
“Just go home,” Hero sighed at the intoxicated villain standing outside of the headquarters gate.
Their stance was wide and unsteady and the hand holding the neck of their broken beer bottle was stooped forward at the shoulder like a weight to heavy to raise.
“None of you even care,” Villain slurred furiously, tears springing to their bloodshot eyes. “You raid and you hurt and you kill and then call us the bad guys. People are only paychecks or obstacles to you.”
Hero scrunched their face in confusion. Villain may have been a criminal, but if there was one thing they weren’t it was a liar. They wouldn’t say these things for no reason. “What are you talking about? What’s happened?”
“As if you don’t know.” Villlain lurched forward.
Hero caught Villain’s wrist and twisted their arm behind their back. It barely took two seconds for them to yelp and drop the bottle. They were already injured.
“I’m serious,” Hero said, as gently as they could with their arm pinned behind their back.
“You so called heroes of justice broke into my base,” Villain spat. “Unprovoked. And you…you slaughtered…”
Hero’s blood ran cold. “How many?”
“Fifteen.” Villain went slack, and Hero let them collapse into a pile of heady emotion. They did not however, stop dogging them for answers.
“Their names! What were their names?”
Villain’s head swayed and their eyes had a hard time focusing but after several pats on the cheek they managed to start a list. “Tray Berg, Ally Mason, Henchman…”
Hero stopped listening after that. They felt like they had been punched in the gut. Something frantic and suffocating crawled up their throat and broke loose in the form of a long, animalistic wail. They collapsed beside Villain, tearing senselessly at the asphalt, their hair, their clothes. Warm blood gathered beneath their fingernails, but the pain barely compared to the hot agony putrefying in their chest.
So that was why their partner hadn’t been answering their texts.
