#Anyway I must stay focused for the fresh beginning!

[showfallmediamedical]

I do ever so much love horses!

This is of course entirely unrelated to the current project being done, I just wanted to leave you with something pleasant before I went silent for a few days to focus on tests.

Horses may just be a favorite animal of mine, they are quite wonderful! Though my most darling wish would be for centaurs to actually exist.

#showfall ask blog #showfall doctor #showfall r&d #encoreverse blog #showfall media ask blog #ask blog #showfall media #The issues presented in past tests #Appear to have been accounted for #And hopefully fixed #We will see if the negative test failures are no longer variables #Positive outcomes are much more likely #...this is of course a common research event #The department does it routinely every few years #So every time we do it it teaches us more and more with every new positive #Of course still it's better to keep it private #Anyway I must stay focused for the fresh beginning! #This is good bye for now

[vampi-fixx]

a matter of habit

ミ★ pairing: yusuke urameshi x reader   ミ★ fandom: yu yu hakusho ミ★ summary: yusuke has a habit of stopping by your place, bringing food and another type of delight. ミ★ genre: smut. 18+ only ミ★ word count: 1,776 ミ★ warnings: friends with benefits, unprotected sex, kitchen sex, afab reader

He shows up at your apartment unannounced, like always, hours after his ramen stand closes for the night. It’s not like Yusuke to ring you up anyways, since he thinks all forms of technology are “a fuckin’ headache,” and after the first few visits, you’ve come to expect his knocking at all hours of the night. Welcome it, in fact.

“Yo,” Yusuke greets. He’s wearing his favorite green jacket, but you’re surprised to see his hair isn’t slicked-up in its usual style–he must have showered before heading over here. You did mention last time that the smell of pork broth clinging to him was kind of a mood-killer. In his hand is a plastic bag, holding what you have no doubt is food. The one thing you can say about Yusuke is that he’s always considerate enough to bring grub whenever he swings by.

“Gonna let a guy in?” He shudders, hunching his shoulders up. “It’s freezing!”

“Was hardly expecting to see you,” you quip, leading him inside.

“Yeah, well, I hope you weren’t expecting Santa.” He shuts the door with a kick, deposits the bag on your coffee table, and slumps into the couch cushions, looking entirely at home. You suppose it’s not a long-shot, considering how often he’s been over.

“Hmm… you’re a lot less jolly than him,” you muse, plopping down next to him. “Less round too.”

“Thanks! I try to stay in shape,” he says, patting his stomach. Despite his sarcasm, you can definitely attest to his stellar physique. “Gotta, after all.” He sighs. “All that ramen would get to me otherwise.”

“Is that why you’re giving me the leftovers?” you ask wryly. “Trying to fatten me up instead?”

“Leftovers?” He furrows his brows, and you’re surprised to hear he actually sounds offended. “(Y/N), what are you talking about?! I always make you a fresh batch. Besides, I’m sick of all these noodles. This,” he starts, unwrapping the bag’s contents, “is Chinese takeout.”

You grin, rolling your eyes as you help him. “I still say you’re trying to make me fat.”

He scoffs. “It’s not like anyone would complain—hell, I wouldn’t complain if your ass got bigger.” He waggles his brows, sneaking a glance at your rear, and you laugh, smacking him on the shoulder.

The two of you dig into the food, reruns of your favorite sitcom playing in the background. When the both of you are full and satisfied, empty takeout cartons littering your table, you lean back into the couch. Your head rests on Yusuke’s shoulder, and he drapes your quilt over your bodies (He does make sure to grumble about your tendency to hog the blanket, though). His hand rests on your thigh, and the heat of his palm seems to disperse through your leggings. You shiver.

“What? You cold or something?”

“You could say that,” you say, distracted, shifting under his touch.

“It’s a yes or no answer.”

“Then I guess I’m saying no, it’s actually getting kind of warm in here, don’t you think?”

Yusuke shoots you a confused look. You decide to show him what you mean—he is a man of action after all. You move so that you’re straddling his lap, all pretense of watching the TV gone.

“So, if you were Santa, would I get my wish granted?”

He pauses. “Depends,” he finally says, gaze darting to your chest. Yusuke’s laser-focused on the ample cleavage your tank top provides, and you have to clear your throat for him to break his stare. “Uh, what is it you want?”

“There’s this guy….” you begin, curling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. “And… we have a thing.”

“Uh-huh…” he says, fully intending for you to go on, his hands sliding up to cup your ass. You don’t miss his attempt to angle you towards the tent in his pants, and you bite back a smile, resisting his guidance.

“And… I was thinking…”

“I’m not a mind-reader, (Y/N.) You gotta tell me–”

You press a finger to his lips. “Shh. I was wondering if you wanted to break the new kitchen in? You do seem to like it an awful lot—”

You don’t even finish your sentence before he’s hoisting you up and speeding to the kitchen. Your legs wrap around his waist, your arms latching around his neck.

“I thought you’d never ask!” He exclaims.

You laugh. Yusuke deposits you on the kitchen counter, then his lips are on yours, quelling your mirth. With his hips pressed tight against yours, you can feel just how excited he is. A roll of your hips has him groaning into your mouth.

“You’ve got… way too many clothes on,” you say. You reach for his jacket and yank it off. It doesn’t even hit the ground before his hands are up your shirt, and you moan as you feel his fingers cup your breasts. You tilt your head back, and his mouth finds its way to your neck, his teeth biting down. You gasp, bucking into his hips. He groans.

Your hands dart for his belt buckle. You’ve become a pro at undoing it swiftly, but as his jeans slip down his legs you come face-to-face with—

“Pfft.” You have to stifle a laugh.

“What? Laundry day is tomorrow!”

“Or were you just… excited to see me?” you ask, raising a brow. You grasp his unclothed length and pump it, still feeling the vestiges of humor at the fact that he came to your place commando. “I guess it does make things easier.”

“Mm, yeah that too.” Yusuke grunts, his jaw clenching.

He tugs impatiently at your leggings, and you laugh, removing your hands from his body to slip them down your legs. He wastes no time before delving his fingers right into you, without warning. Your breaths stutter, and he swears.

“Damn, you’re pretty excited too, huh.”

“I-I was hoping you’d drop by.” You gasp as his fingers start pumpinginto you, much like how he plans to with his cock. “Did you bring a condom?” you ask, trying to hold onto your last thread of sense before you snap—

Yusuke swears. “Shit, that’s the one thing I forgot.”

“Well,” you say, dazed by the feel of him, velvet steel, against your palm, at the way his fingers, so thick, are still thrusting into you. “I guess as long as you… pull out…”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm.”

“Well then, what are we waiting for?”

Yusuke pulls his fingers out of you, and you nearly whine at the loss, but then he’s dragging your ass to the edge of the counter. You spread your legs wide, propping yourself up with your arms, and he enters you in one, swift thrust. You jerk against him. He’s hot and hard and fills every part of you. He groans lowly.

“Fuck, this is—“

“Y-yeah—”

“So tight and hot.”

He slams his hips into you, and you moan. Your legs wrap around his thighs as he thrusts in-and-out of you in a messy, erratic rhythm. Yusuke grunts as you clench around him, his hands gripping the counter before him.

“Lie down,” he commands. You comply, leaning back until Yusuke jerks you forward, and you nearly fall backwards. He wraps your thighs around his waist, leaning forwards before pummeling into you. You gasp, your hands scrambling for purchase on the counter. For some kind of grounding. His fingers dig into your hips, and your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head when he hits a spot inside of you that has you clenching around himself, pleasure bursting out of you.

“F-fuck!”

The smack of your ass meeting his hips fills the air, mixed in with your whines and Yusuke’s grunts.

“M-Man, I’ve been… thinking about this since… since the day you moved into this… fancy new place,” he says, voice strained.

You laugh breathlessly, but it’s cut off by a moan. “Yusuke, y-you… you perv.”

“Wanna… wanna bend you over every single fucking surface… bet you’d like it too.” He’s fucking into you so rawly, so thoroughly, that all you can feel is every inch of him, your nerves alight with a growing fire.

“I—! Yeah.” Your words come out as gasps. You don’t think you’re physically capable of anything more. “I-I would.”

“You fucking love this cock, right? I-I want you to say it,” he grunts.

“Y-yes, Yusuke, I—I fucking love it. I want you to fuck me on every surface in this goddamn place.” You clench your eyes shut, feeling your pleasure crescendo-ing if he could just keep going at it—

He inhales sharply, his thrusts speeding up. Shakily, your hand comes between your legs to play with your clit, and it’s not long before you’re tightening around him, mewling out his name as you reach your end. With a strangled grunt, he cums as well, his release painting your thighs in thick spurts as he pulls out, jerking the last drops out.

Your legs slip from his sides, and he falls forward, nearly knocking your chin with his forehead to land face-first into your chest with a satisfied groan.

“Hey,” you mumble, exhaustion creeping into you. It was late. “Watch the goods.”

“Sorry.” He grins up at you weakly. “Wouldn’t wanna damage ‘em. ‘Specially since I like ‘em so much.”

“That’s right. Keep up the sweet talk and maybe next time… I’ll let you appraise them better.”

He laughs. “God, you’re fucking perfect. Ya’ freak. We’d probably fuck all day if you let me.”

That sounds exhausting, considering Yusuke’s stamina, but… you can’t deny that the idea appeals to you. “That can be arranged.” Your eyes are slipping shut, but you feel his head perk up, and force yourself to stay conscious. “I can take the day off from work. And you’ll have me all to yourself.”

It takes him a second to mull it over. When he speaks, his voice is uncharacteristically quiet. “You mean it? You’d take off from your fancy job?”

You hum, thinking about it yourself. “For you? Yeah. I would.”

Your eyes are slipping shut again, but you don’t stop them this time. To your surprise, you feel Yusuke’s weight leave you, and instead he’s lifting you up. You yelp, your eyes snapping open to see him carrying you, bridal style, to your room.

“Better rest up. You’re taking off work tomorrow and we’re getting breakfast first thing. My treat.”

“You’ll need it for all the activities we’re gonna be doing.” He grins cheekily.

#yusuke urameshi x reader #yyh x reader #yyh imagine #yusuke x reader #yyh thots; #tati writes

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

y'know I really do feel sorry for the younger 20 somethings (and anyone in general tbh) that are suffering from tiktok brain rot around "anti-aging" advice. like the other day, I had a review/reaction video from I think james walsh the beauty influencer in my fb watch feed, where he was reviewing/debunking the bs anti-aging advice that people give on tiktok.

one of the videos he reacted to was from some 21yo beauty influencer or some rando idk, I'm not on there. her piece of advice was to "always sleep on your back like a vampire to reduce fine lines, wrinkles and crows feet. that's how I stay looking so fresh... even though yes I'm 21 which contributes quite a bit but still. be disciplined about sleeping on your back ALL NIGHT, EVERY NIGHT to get the PERFECT SKIN!!!" like im sorry, what???? you're 20 fucking one (21). why the FUCK do you feel compelled to give "anti-aging" advice??? why the fuck do you even care about anti-aging stuff when you're like at least 10 YEARS away from any considerable signs of aging beginning to slowly show??? get the fuck out of the house and enjoy nature or some shit. instead of lamenting that you're "getting so old by the minute so I MUST ELIMINATE laugh lines and crows feet even though im still only 21."

"but but. it's in the name of self care." I can hear some people say. "but but. it shows that as a woman you take high self-care maintenance of yourself if you begin EARLY with seeking out remedies for and eliminating the signs of aging" other people are saying. and finally: "but but. look at zendaya (or some other young 20 something movie star or TT influencer like idek mikayla nougeira). she's promoting revlon anti-aging serums! it can't be that bad!!!"

I raise to people with the first response that: no. having some 21yo condescend to you that you MUST fight to stay younger and sleep uncomfortably on your back stiffly like a vampire is NOT self care. starting to "fight" the signs of aging is NOT being a high maintenance woman in your early 20s. it's just being fucking insanely obsessed with youth..... when like... you're still young as fuck. like yes I made jokes about feeling ancient and old and w/e when i was 21.... but that doesnt mean that i became weirdly focused on trying to eliminate any crows feet and laugh lines....... that weren't even fucking on my face yet!!!!!! or cellulite that's on my legs.

moreover, for zendaya or other beauty influencers that may promote anti-aging products. they get paid either 10s of thousands of dollars or hundreds of thousands or maybe even up to possibly millions of dollars for promoting some bs estee lauder/revlon etc etc anti-age defying gravity super plumping and hydrating hyaluronic acid and idek retonoid vitamins C and E serum fuck shit.... against you, a random 21yo from god knows where in the US (usually).... like idek calabasis or houston or whatever the fuck with fuck knows how many low count followers (im assuming but probs not idek and idc)....

the people who I'll listen to about aging are people who have actually lived a life. like jamie lee curtis. like sandra oh. like leslie jones. like viola davis. idek just people who have ACTUALLY lived a life and are happy with aging, i guess (even if yes, they're famous and kinda unrelateable anyway). not some fucking stuck up rude asf early 20 something whose watched 3 fucking antiaging brain rot videos on tiktok and NOW thinks that they're the utmost expert on anti-aging hacks. and this is coming from someone whose nearly 30. fucking embrace getting older in your 20s. cherish it and use it wisely.

I say this as someone who, in 2020 at 25, nearly fucking died twice after a massive surgery. why the fuck should I give a fuck about crows feet???? laugh lines (ie lines of fucking J O Y)???? my cellulite??? when I'm 28 this year??? (*cue these TT brain rot girlies* EEEEWWWWW OLD HAG WHO DOESNT DO GOOD HIGH MAINTENANCE SELF CARE TO FIGHT THE SIGNS OF AGING EEEEWWWW!!!!!) I'm finally healthy again.... but realisitcally, YOU ARE the one that needs to look in the mirror and realise that being young and looking young ain't that crash hot, really. wise the fuck up and delete tiktok and escape anti-aging brain rot.... when you're still a kid (in a sense) stumbling about in your early 20s... stop giving a fuck about useless shit you can't avoid.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #this has been bothering me for DAYS

[cloudlovethorne]

Hearts on Ice : Part 1

Pairing : Sunghoon x Female Reader

Genre : Figure Skating AU

Synopsis : After a disappointing season for Park Sunghoon, he is eager to come back better than ever. What stands in his way is the rest of the world of figure skating including the American Champion and former World's Bronze Medalist Jay Park, Nishimura Riki, the Junior World Champion making his senior debut, and a host of original characters.

Words : 3,862

A/N : I made some weird mistake after I finished soo +-+ if something looks weird pls tell me

Two figure skaters, poised and ready Training hard, each day and night They glide and spin, with grace and beauty Their passion burning, a guiding light

The autumn air is crisp and cold But they stay focused, young and bold With each spin and each jump They know they must give their all, never slump

So they practice, day and night Honing their skills, ready to fight For the gold, for the fame For the love of the game

Tying the laces of her skates, (Y/N) tried her hardest to ignore the scratching of the blades on ice around her. Its all her fault anyways, oversleeping enough to allow Park Sunghoon to get to the rink first. Usually she's the first one in, practicing jumps and doing run-throughs long before he's even awake, but as of late there's been a resurgence of motivation in him.

Of course he has- the memories of last season were fresh in both of their minds. The memories for Park Sunghoon of a Triple Axel on life support and a Quad Salchow less stable than the late Princess Margaret. The memory of missing the Grand Prix Final, of not even being chosen for Worlds, losing out on Korea's one spot to the younger Kim Sunoo, whose seventh place performance earned Korea another male skater into this year's worlds. Those memories burned in the mind of Sunghoon, and for good reason. He was labelled to be Korea's next skater and within his first three seasons on the senior circuit, his only real accomplishment has been a bronze medal at NHK Trophy during his debut season. There was never any competition on the Junior circuit, and well it was the fault of Coach Lee and the Korean media for singing his praises. They all knew he was great, hailing him as the next Kim Yuna. If you call a fourteen year old boy the next olympic gold medalist then its only natural his work ethic will suffer. But after last season, the Korean media began asking questions- harsh ones about that lack of success. And after Kim Sunoo's success at Worlds, landing that same Quad Salchow that's eluded Sunghoon, the question had to be asked; why was Sunghoon the golden child? That was all he needed to start waking up before sunrise, to get to the rink before Coach Lee. That was all he needed to begin working as he should, and it was wonderful to see.

A thud on the ice and a small yelp quickly put a bookmark in those thoughts for (Y/N). Rising to see if any real damage had been done, she was met by nothing but the sight of Sunghoon pulling himself back to his feet while Coach Lee barked out exactly what it was that lead Sunghoon to his intimate encounter with the ice. A Quad Flip gone wrong- goodness? Quad Flip, another four revolution jump to his arsenal... The Quad Toe was always stable, Quad Salchow... well, never mind about the Quad Salchow, but a flip? How had Sunghoon improved so much unbeknownst to his own training partner? How? It was easy to explain that, (Y/N) was busy herself that offseason. Questions were asked of her to, mainly does she have what it takes to compete with the Russians? A very unfair question in her opinion. Those poor Russians, debuting at fifteen and retiring at seventeen or eighteen when their bodies could no longer handle their coaches expectations for them. But still of the last six world champions, five hailed from the training grounds of Moscow or St. Petersburg and they were the ones to bet on the ladies circuit.

(Y/N) carefully stepped her way onto the ice, choosing the corner of the rink furthest from the practicing male and considered her own past season. It could be described in one phrase, close but not there yet. She had qualified for the Grand Prix Final through a silver medal in Canada behind an upset winner, Adalina Beneventi, and a bronze medal in China, but came in fifth place out of the six skaters. The Four Continents Championship resulted in a disappointing silver medal behind Japan's Mihara Kimiko (Since Europeans don't compete at The Four Continents, it meant she didn't have to skate against the Russians), and Worlds came and went with nothing more than a ninth place finish after a fall on the Triple Lutz in the Free Skate... The Worlds that featured a full Russian podium with American and Japanese skaters grasping for fifth through tenth. However, sneaking in at ninth place was good enough to ensure two spots for Korea's female skaters at this year's worlds.

She skated on through her thoughts, warming up before attempting any jumps. A lot of work went into this offseason and with the Grand Prix assignments coming out tomorrow, it would soon be time to see how far that work could take her. The Triple Axel, bane of the last three months would have to be the key if she was going to be able to even compete against the Russian teenagers this season. All of those tiny girls and their quadruple jumps had been holding medals hostage from the rest of the world, but the Russian girls were inconsistent as their bodies were still growing and the hill that (Y/N) burrowed her belief that she might be able to steal one or two golds this season in was the hope that she could consistently land that Triple Axel... well that was the hope after all, in reality the jump was just as inconsistent and that lobbied together with failed attempts at a Triple Lutz-Triple Loop combination meant that this season looked as if it would be a repeat off last season.

But Figure Skating is scored in two scores- technical elements and artistic elements, and as (Y/N) already knew that while nobody had the jumps to compete with the Russians, she and the rest of the world would try to prepare the most creative programs to try and mitigate any gaps and capitalise on any mistakes. With a short program to El Tango de Roxanne and a free skate set to a Caro Emerald Jazz Medley, showmanship was the tactic for (Y/N). If Swing Jazz wasn't enough to sneak onto a podium, then she didn't know what it would take. The Russian girls were critiqued time and time again on one thing; when they skated, it looked like they were just waiting to jump, they weren't performing, they weren't artists, just jumpers. This could be said for all but Natalya Zhukova, the reigning European Champion, Worlds Silver Medalist, and Grand Prix Finals Silver medalist was said to be a ballerina on ice. And last year's free skate to Don Quixote just proved that...

She thought as she started her practice routine, first a few spins, a spiral, and some light jumps. Continuing on before a run-through of her programs, which by the noise of Chopin's Ballade No 1 in G Minor Op 23 blaring throughout the rink, she knew Sunghoon had started his and by the absence of the crash of body meeting ice, she came to the conclusion that it must've been going well. Maybe the Quad Flip was a good addition after all? She ran through it in her head.. Quad Toe, Quad Flip, Quad Salchow, and a Triple Axel? A World Championship medal could be won if that was the combination Sunghoon was going with. She turned her head to watch the final step sequence of the program as she skated along the boards.

On the other side of the rink across from her, she finally caught sight of the final skaters that made up the team under Coach Lee, the pair of Lee Heeseung and Lee Haewon. Out of the camp, they were coming off of the best season claiming gold medals at the Four Continentals, a bronze at the Grand Prix Finals, and an impressive fifth place at Worlds. Momentum was behind them, but the pressure was on as anything short of last season would be a disappointment to them and Coach Lee. They were the best pair that Korea had ever seen, an honour that they wore with great pride. Haewon, a close friend, she used to be a singles skater before she met Heeseung. (Y/N) had many memories of those small domestic novice competitions with her when they were younger.

A tantalising spin in tandem from the duo was the sight for (Y/N) as she skated past them en route to attempt a double axel. Two and a half revolutions later, she landed back on the ice and skated off. Sunghoon's run-through was over and (Y/N) took centre ice for an attempt at the free skate.

A breath in, the last moment before any program, the last clear breaths for the next four minutes. Four minutes where she would push her body to the limits, and greatly surpass them. That's what it meant to her, that's what skating was about. Finding that moment when any more exertion seemed impossible, and then finding the strength to go forth. Then a breath out.

The sound of Caro Emerald's "You Don't Love Me" now surrounded her as she began. The movements as rehearsed were delivered as she skated through the claps of Coach Lee and his requests for more flare. Finally- the first jump, Triple Axel, the lifeline of the program. She turned, stuck the left leg out, began rotation, lifted, and three and a quarter rotations later landed with her legs twisted, falling onto the ice. Quickly popping back up into her stride, transitioning into a spin she continued on for the rest of the program.

"Come on (Y/N), rotations.. arms in, push with the legs," Coach Lee sighed as (Y/N) skated off the ice.

"Yes coach," she nodded, untying her skates. She slid her feet out of them and walked over to set them next to her bag. Setting them down she looked back over at the bench to see Sunghoon sitting down across from her bag, taking a sip of water.

"Still no Triple Axel?" He asked with a slight head tilt, garnering nothing but an eye roll from his teammate.

"I could ask you the same thing," (Y/N) shot back, sitting down and unzipping her jacket, "At least I have some life in my programs."

"I," Sunghoon began, putting an indignant hand up to his chest, "am the epitome of elegance, and I reflect it in my skating. Also, for your information, I landed both my Triple Axels today."

(Y/N) mustered enough in her in order to offer up a small round of applause for this incredible achievement, "Good for you. I guess there's a first time for everything," she managed a chuckle before changing gears, "Grand Prix assignments come out tomorrow, what are you hoping for?"

"A medal," the attempt at a joke came out weakly as he tried hard to conceal the frown that threatened to show itself, "Hopefully NHK, I could use the chance to go to Japan again. I assume you want to dodge the Russians?"

"Well you can't dodge them," She massaged her thighs with a short laugh, "There's too many of them. I am hoping to at least avoid Natalya Zhukova or Yulia Sorokina."

"I understand Sorokina, she has the chance to break the World Record if she ever lands all her quad jumps, but Natalya? I know she's reigning European Champion, but she doesn't have the quad superpowers of Yulia Sorokina or Veronika Semenova," Sunghoon leaned forward for an answer.

"Yes, Natalya doesn't have the quads, but she's the most consistent... and beautiful, she's like a ballerina on dance. I've never seen her fall, while people like Sorokina fall all the time."

"Yes, but Sorokina can fall twice and still come in third."

(Y/N) shrugged in response at this as she leaned back, "Asking which one I want to avoid is pointless, I wish to avoid all of them. I mean you have Zhukova who won the European Championship, Sorokina who won the World Championship, and Semenova who won the Grand Prix finals, its really incredible how they managed to split the three... But you have your challenges too," she said flipping the conversation to the male discipline, "Jay Park... Nishimura Riki...."

"That Junior skater?" Sunghoon pressed while tapping the top of his water bottle.

"Junior World Champion," (Y/N) responded, "A lot of Quads, and a lot of passion and energy. I don't think you should underestimate him."

Shrugging his shoulders, he rubbed his face with his right hand as he attempted to form an opinion on the young skater, "Okay, but still when you look at Japan, he has to go through Nakata Jun."

"Jun? You know I love him, but let's be honest he can't put together two consecutive successful seasons and he won Four Continents last year... But now that Soda Yuji's retired, they're saying its his year. I doubt it though..."

"Now you're being mean," Sunghoon squeezed out between a set of soft giggles, "There's also Suko Katsu, he's young too."

"Riki already beat him when they were both Juniors, I'm saying he's competition, both of them are. And Kim Sunoo- seventh in worlds, its one of the best results Korea has ever seen in the male discipline. Christian Cohen, that one American boy- He medaled a lot on the Junior stage, he's making his senior debut too. And of course you're forgetting the European Champion Ilya Nikitin." "I get it, I get it. There's lots of skaters in the world. I'll do my best, and I know you always do yours."

"Well my best hasn't been good enough for years," (Y/N) sighed as she stood up, "I think that's all for me today. Tomorrow is the big day, I'll see you then."

"Don't go on that note," Sunghoon lamented, "Your best will always be good enough. I'll try to match it, and maybe then I won't embarrass myself this season."

"You never embarrass yourself," She walked over to pick up her bag, "We all have off days-"

"I seem to have a lot," He sighed, "But anyways, I'll see you tomorrow," he sent her with a wave and a smile as he turned back to re-enter the rink.

The next morning was not a friend to (Y/N). Awaking to the sounds of what seemed to be a million notifications only made her aware of one thing, Grand Prix Assignments have been released. She would soon be aware of which two of six events she would competing in her campaign to hopefully reach another Grand Prix Final. This would be her third year skating, she was lucky enough to reach the finals in her second year. That finals of course, was won by Veronika Semenova. She finally found the energy deep in her soul to sit up. Funny how an athlete can be so easily defeated by Apollo's gift. One glance at the clock on her bedside table was all the wakeup she needed. Late- late... she threw off the knitted blanket made for her by Coach Lee's wife when she was twelve. A small yelp left her lips as she stubbed her toe against some stupid desk that really should've been placed at least ten centimeters more to the left, she continued jumping about as she tried to get out of pyjamas and into anything decent enough to go out in.

She pulled on a burgundy coat over some complimentary 'Korean skating federation' t-shirt that they get sent to them each year and a lovely pair of trainers, a rose print on them; a gift from Haewon. Desperately trying not to be too late for the second day in a row, she called for a taxi on the mobile app while eating a small breakfast. She jumped in the backseat as it arrived, "To the rink- up the hill, yes," she nodded at the driver as he drove off to her meeting with Sunghoon, Heeseung, Haewon, and Coach Lee where they would discover the assignments.

"I'm not too late am I?" (Y/N) cried out after opening the large glass door to the rink and cutting through the lobby past the registration desk, "Nobody peaked at the assignments without me?"

"We were moments away... perfect timing as always," Heeseung quipped, arm wrapped around Haewon. He lazily picked up his wrist just enough to offer a small wave which (Y/N) happily returned.

Haewon patted the seat next to her, naturally (Y/N) slid in and exchanged good mornings while Coach Lee began to look over the chart one last time before announcing the assignments to his skaters.

"Alright everyone," Coach Lee began, "I'll go in order of the Grand Prix events and we'll see which one of us will be going where," He croaked out a small chuckle, "What an exciting time each year. The first Grand Prix, Skate America..." He paused for dramatic effect.

Haewon laughed and leaned forward to drum her fingers against the table, Heeseung joined her as the rest of the team erupted in laughter.

"Thank you," Coach Lee nodded, "Going Skate America will be Park Sunghoon and (Y/N)." Sunghoon stood up after a short moment of hesitation and made his way around the seating area towards (Y/N), "I look forward to enjoying Las Vegas with you," He chuckled. He held out both his hands for a high-five which was quickly granted to him. A giggle escaped both their lips as (Y/N) looked up to his eyes. There was a joy to them tinged with a certain sense of relief. Sunghoon never did enjoy travelling alone.

"Also competing," Coach Lee continued, "In the Men's Discipline, Jay Park, World's Bronze Medalist, Grand Prix Finals Silver Medalist, and American National Champion," He was briefly interrupted by a groan, "Christian Cohen, Junior Grand Prix Silver Medal, Junior World Champion Silver Medal... oh goodness, poor think lost to Nishimura Riki in every event they competed against each other in," (Y/N) took the chance to shoot an 'I-told-you-so' glance at the skater who had taken the seat next to her, "Jake Sim-" Coach Lee got out before setting down his phone to rub his eyes. He picked his phone back up, "No, I saw that correctly... An Australian? Figure Skater?" He looked around the room seemingly for an explanation.

"Jake Sim?" Sunghoon sat up brushing knees with (Y/N), "Yeah- Youth Olympics, years ago... He competed with me. A very nice boy, not really that good at skating yet, but if he's made it to the Grand Prix of Figure Skating, he must've gone through major improvements in the past few years."

"That's good," Coach Lee absentmindedly put, "And then the only other major one is Rolan Kuzmin, he hasn't really had a good season in recent memory, but a former European Champion is a former European Champion. Now for the ladies," Coach Lee swiped on his phone, "Our lovely (Y/N) of course. Mallory Rose, the reigning American Champion, Bronze Medal at the Four Continents-"

"Mallory Rose? I thought she retired to go to University. She's studies physics, don't tell me she's a student and a skater," Haewon interjected, "I could never, I gave up on academics years ago."

"You gave up academics I think your first year of school. You were five, I believe," Heeseung said, earning a slap on the shoulder and a pout from his partner.

"Katia Pushkina is the other notable one," Coach Lee chose to ignore the side chatter.

"YES!" however he was interrupted by the clap of (Y/N)'s hands, "I love Katia... She's literally known as the Queen of Figure Skating, what more do you need."

"Someone's still got their posters up on the wall?" Sunghoon laughed, "You can get her autograph while we're there."

"(Y/N) does have a point. Katia is twenty-seven years old, and being from Russia, a country famous for having every single skater for the past decade and a half retire at eighteen, it is remarkable to see her still going. She was the World Champion in 2013, but she broke her back later that year after she turned eighteen and instead of retiring like every other one of her compatriots, she came back."

"But she was unsuccessful, she finished what- Ninth in the Russian Championships in her return year, missed the Grand Prix Finals after finishing last in both her assignments, missed Europeans and Worlds-"

"Heeseung please, she persisted, and she had the courage to keep fighting. She made the Grand Prix Finals last year, like eight years after that World Championship win and she won bronze," Haewon sighed, "She's gotten that Triple Axel that won her that World Champion back and she's looking like she's in shape."

"That is what makes her a woman of interest for us, Katia is a fighter... and one who fights, is one who can't be counted out. Now please let me read the assignments," Coach Lee reeled them back in, "Skate Canada belongs to our lovely pair," he persisted over the sound of their clapping, "Nobody goes to France.... Cup of China! Park Sunghoon. The competition in China really is Ilya Nikitin, current European Champion, has qualified for every Grand Prix Final since he became a senior. Kim Sunoo, the boy who replaced you at Worlds last season," (Y/N) took a side glance over at Sunghoon. By the tension in his jaw, she felt that China was an important one for Sunghoon to medal at, "Suko Katsu, he's been strong, Silver Medal in Japanese Championship. Fourth place at the Four Continents. Lu Nianzu, he is inconsistent, but assuming he can finally land all the jumps in his program, he has the potential to win any competition he skates in."

"Also skating in China is our pair, your main rivals are Hao and Ren. They took Silver at Worlds. But a medal should be easy and that paves an easy path into the Grand Prix Finals," Coach Lee drew a breath finally, "Now onto the NHK Trophy which (Y/N) will be skating at. Your main competition is Natalya Zhukova, European Champion, Russian Champion- and by that horrid noise that just left your mouth, I assume you know all about her. Min Haru, the only woman in Korea who can contend with you... No real accomplishments on the Grand Prix circuit, and then Mihara Kimiko, reigning Four Continents Champion, Japanese Champion, Fourth at Worlds only behind the Russians, and stopped an All-Russian podium at last year's Grand Prix Finals by taking bronze."

(Y/N) felt Sunghoon's patting on her back. Of course she drew Mihara Kimiko for her Grand Prix Assignments. The best skater outside of Russia. The only woman outside of Russia to land a quad, to land a Triple Axel in competition... It was her luck of course. The twenty-two year old had five years under her belt as a senior skater. Best result coming in 2019 with a World's Silver Medal... Besides she was an Olympic Silver Medalist - granted it was in the team event, Three time and reigning Four Continents champion..

"And that's all for this team's assignments, I look forward to a wonderful season. We depart for Las Vegas in a few weeks." Coach Lee smiled, putting his phone in his pocket, "Tomorrow, I'll treat everyone to dinner."

Team Lee cheered as they set off to get into skating gear for another day of training...

#enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x female reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon au #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enhypen reactions #enha #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon imagines #kpop fanfic #Hearts on Ice

[randonowrong]

Sir Billiam (Technoblade), Ranbutler (Ranboo), and James (Sapnap) x Servant! Reader [HCs]

A/N: I put it under the cut because it’s so long. I honestly just started writing and unknowingly put so many words into these headcanons. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Lord Billiam III (Technoblade):

You are one of his many employees at the estate.

You were an orphan that was brought (bought) by his parents to serve at the estate since their servants kept dying or leaving.

Growing up you were taught how to do household chores by the older servants.

Seeing as you are in the same age range as their son, your masters decided to make you his personal servant.

With how Billiam grew up into an adult, I would assume that he was taught this during his childhood.

His parents were very critical of the social divide between you and their son.

You never forgot the reminders that you were nothing compared to them.

Billiam kept the act his parents wanted whenever he interacted with you in front of them.

But he was always kind and gentle with you compared to the other servants even his parents weren’t present.

He taught you how to read and write, leaving you with his favorite books whenever he had business to attend.

He loved when you ran to him to ask something about the book that you couldn’t understand, or when you didn’t know what a word meant.

This went on for years until his parents caught you in his room reading while he wrote at his study.

He heard them start screaming profanity at you and he ran into his room to see you being dragged by the hair outside.

He walked forward to help you but his father told him to stay because they had to deal with the “filth”.

Months went by without him hearing or seeing you. He assumed the worst, his parents had you killed.

During the period, he refused to have another servant but you.

He acted out against his parents’ orders and started on his path to independence.

He focused on his studies and work so that he could take over the family business and lands so that he can find you.

After a long time, he finally saw you again.

This was when he stayed up late due to managing some family matters and he stepped out of his room to get some fresh air.

There you were, in the servant’s clothes, on your knees and wiping the floor clean.

“Y/N?” he asked, reaching out to you.

After you heard him you stood up and took a deep bow. “I apologize for disturbing you my lord, I shall leave immediately.”

He had no time to stop you from taking the cleaning supplies and booking it downstairs.

Every future instance where he tried to talk to you was met with profuse apologizing and leaving.

He eventually gave up on interacting with you, as in the few moments that you do, you make it clear you don’t want anything to do with him.

Without his anchor, his tether that kept him humane, he was consumed by the snobbish teachings of the aristocracy.

When his parents finally died, Billiam became the sole owner of the many properties and subsidiaries his parents’ managed.

His cruelty knew no bounds, severely punishing servants who made a slight mistake. Servants...except you.

When the heir became the lord, you had become appointed as the head servant of the estate, in charge of managing and teaching the staff to serve.

Servants would notice the tense air that hung when you and their employer would interact, the casual reports on the happenings at the estate, servants being laid off for mistakes, etc.

The first time you two had conversed without the awkwardness is when a deal he wanted to secure fell through. He was livid, destroying everything in his quarters.

Knowing that any miniscule slight while Billiam was furious would result in severe punishment, you took it upon yourself to fix the room. Deciding to spare the other servants from possible suffering.

When the noise of glass being thrown, tables being flipped, and paintings being torn had ceased, you decided to enter the room and tend to your lord.

Billiam stood by his overturned desk. Shards of glass from the decorations he threw stuck in his bleeding hand. 

“My lord you are injured, please allow me to tend to your wounds.” he tensed after hearing your voice call out to him. 

Turning around he observed the wreckage that he caused, his eyes stopping on your figure holding a rag and setting down a basin of water on the ground.

The room grew silent as you were crouched down and tending to Billiam, no sound threatened to escape from either of you. 

When you finished picking out the shards and cleaning the wounds you stood up with the basin, now colored red, to leave the room when he grabbed your hand “Stop.”

Complying, you stopped in your tracks and faced him. “Yes my lord?”

“I-I...” he clenched his fists, trying to find the right words to tell you.

His mind cleared, he knew what he needed first from you. “I command you to tell me why you were and have been avoiding me!” he shouts, raising his voice.

You sigh, eyes drifting to stare at the floor as your lips open to answer. “It would be best to show you my lord.” you answer, setting down your things, you untie the affixes of your attire.

With the last of the strings untied, you turn around and move your top to expose your back to him. 

His mouth agape, he stared at the lashes on your back, the burn marks, the deep cuts. “Wha-”

“It was your parents, my lord. They did not like it when they saw how close we were.” you added, beginning to fix yourself back up.

You felt him crash into you, pulling you into a tight hug, as his breath fanned your nape. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.” you feel warm tears fall on your bare neck.

You let him be open with his emotions, as the dam that kept all of the pain in for the past years cracks and floods out. You hear him mumble apology after apology to you.

When his tears falter, you turn around and pull him into a hug. Tangling your hand in his hair and nudging his head into your neck to comfort him.

“Don’t apologize for feeling what you feel.”

His breath hitches as you continue speaking.

“And don’t apologize for loving me.”

That night was spent with Billiam being in your arms as he had wanted to be for years, finally feeling the warmth he did when you were both young.

The next day, your belongings were being moved by the servants outside of your quarters. Under orders from Lord Billiam they answered when you questioned why.

“You will no longer be the head servant, (Y/N).” Billiam stated as he walked towards you accompanied by three maids.

“From now on you shall be mine, the spouse of Lord Billiam III.” he smirked, holding out a hand for you.

You reach out and grab his hand “Yes, my lord.”

Ranbutler (Ranboo):

A fellow servant under the employ of Lord Billiam III.

The both of you were employed on the same day, as your new master needed more servants to manage the happenings around his vast estate.

Ranboo had no time to introduce himself to you as work was immediately shoved upon his shoulders, he would be acting as the personal servant at the side of Lord Billiam.

You, meanwhile, were in charge of managing the storehouse and making sure everything your master needed was in stock.

Life...is hard when serving under an aristocrat, more so under Lord Billiam. 

He was very critical of everything and all he does is done with utmost perfection. Failure wasn’t allowed at his manor.

Thankfully, you were able to adjust easily to your job. Taking walks around the estate to question the denizens of the necessities which were needed. Being able to pick out the most affordable but high quality items.

Which lead to you being one of the few that did not catch the ire of your master. He had even given a sarcastic statement which sounded like a compliment? You were unsure if he was capable of complimenting a mere servant.

When Lord Billiam needed to attend to business away from the city, he left Ranboo in charge of acting in his stead, as one of his closest aides.

Most of the servants breathed a collective sigh of relief when the carriages, carrying your master, had left the confines of the property.

The few servants that stood by the side and watched the others silently knew something.

They couldn’t slack just because he wasn’t here. Lord Billiam has eyes and ears everywhere, so slacking off was something never to be done.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Ranboo walk and stand beside you. “Lord Billiam wants stocks of wine and other refreshments to be present in the cellar by the time he arrives. He specifically instructed to only procure the best, so do not worry about the cost.”

You nod and continue watching the rambunctious bunch of servants. “Of course. I assume Lord Billiam instructed you about that?” you question.

He gives a slight nod and turns to walk back inside the manor leaving you.

The next day, most of the servants had taken it upon themselves to have fun while doing their job. The cooks used ingredients to cook meals for themselves, the cleaners allowing dust and dirt to gather on the furniture.

You took your daily stroll around the place, taking mental notes of whatever the servants you crossed paths with were doing. 

Absentmindedly you bumped into someone’s chest and mumbled a quick “Sorry.”

Looking up you came faced with the trusted aide of your lord. “Would you like to join me for afternoon tea?” he invited, gesturing to the direction of the balcony.

You raise a brow and begin walking with him towards the balcony. In your mind you wonder what his plans may be, knowing Lord Billiam must have trusted him with that.

Arriving at the balcony a gentle breeze blew through your hair as you looked at the table in front of you. An assortment of treats and sweets were laid out, a pot of tea with two cups and saucers present as well.

Ranboo walked to one of the chairs and pulled it out, gesturing for you to take a seat. When you did, he walked to his own and began pouring the hot beverage. 

The two of you sat in silence, the only sound being heard were the chirping of the birds that flew overhead. 

“So...I presume that you are on the same orders as I am?” you break the silence, taking a sip from your cup and staring at him for an answer.

He nods. “Sir Billiam has entrusted me with this job and I must fulfill it dutifully. You must understand so, (Y/N).” he grabs the pot and pours himself another cup. 

“Yes...we must weed out the imperfections that our lord does not need.” you hum, staring at your reflection in the tea. “As our lord’s favored aids, you being publicly known, and I with the others being secret, must serve without fault.”

Your eyes both held a dark gleam, staring at each other with understanding of your orders. “Well, I am thankful for the tea, but I must continue with my work.” you stand and set down your saucer. “I enjoyed our small discussion. I hope to speak with you more in the future, now excuse me.”

The succeeding days were a blur, although your master was absent from the manor, there was still a backlog of work and duties which had to be done. Having to continue observing the other servants, managing deliveries and orders to and from the estate, and making sure your discussion with the butler was kept private.

Oh yes, speaking of the butler. He would be at each of your turns, giving his insight on what sir Billiam would order and keeping the estate running. 

You would catch him in the corner of your eye, staring at you from the shadows. Though this did not faze you as he was just following commands, as was you.

When Lord Billiam III returned a week later all the servants stood outside to receive their Lord. They all stood firmly, heads bowing low, and no noise threatening to escape their lips. “Welcome back my Lord!” you all collectively shout.

You and Ranboo stood at the head of the two lines. Lord Billiam began to stride towards the entrance when he stopped in his tracks. “You two, follow me.” he commanded and continued on his path.

“Yes my lord.” you both answer, raising your heads and following him, keeping a suitable distance. 

Arriving in front of the doors to his quarters, you both took steps forward and opened the double doors and bowing. You could feel the smirk that Sir Billiam held as he walked in, the two of you soon following and closing the doors.

Taking a seat at his study, Billiam put his hands together and set his elbows on the table. “Now, give me a detailed report you two.” he ordered.

You both nodded and gave detailed statements on what happened at the estate in the duration of his absence. Every mistake, every success, every mishap, everything. With him nodding to each explanation.

“I knew picking you two as my personal aides wasn’t a mistake.” he chuckles. “Now leave, I have work to do.” he states, voice turning cold.

In the morning, all the servants were gathered in the main hall. They whispered to one another, wondering about the sudden meeting.

The noises stopped as soon as Lord Billiam stood at the head of the stairs overlooking the foyer, he was followed by two servants, the butler and you. 

“Now, you may all be wondering why I have called you all at such an ungodly hour.” he stated, looking at the servants like ants. “It has come to my attention the problems my estate faces, with regards to all of you.” he continues, taking delight in the looks of fear that some held.

“I hereby relieve you all of your duties, leave at once, I have no need for incompetents who slack around when they believe their master isn’t present.” he seethes, glaring at them, before turning and leaving the room.

You and Ranboo glance at each other as you hear the servants cry, some panic, some running to sort out their departure. No matter, you thought, as the butler put a hand on your shoulder and nodded.

He tugged your arm towards the balcony, a soft smile on his face. “Afternoon tea?”

“I would be glad to have some, Mr. Butler.”

Lord James (Sapnap):

You are a servant in service to Lord James’ family for a long period.

You were present from the beginning of his marriage to his subsequent divorce. Acting as one of his wife’s personal servants, in charge of dressing her and tending to her beck and call.

Having been assigned to her, you were well acquainted with Lord James. Being the one to inform him whenever your lady was unavailable.

Though the first interaction between just you two, not involving or speaking about anyone else happened quite later.

It happened after an argument with his wife, who promptly stormed out of the manor, leaving you with her husband. You felt awkward being left in the same room without your lady. 

You were ready to walk out of the room when you suddenly heard him collapse as he began to sob. 

You crouched down and held him up, comfortingly rubbing his back. You were about to speak when you were pulled into a hug, feeling tears fall on your shirt. 

You stayed on the floor, letting James cry his heart out. You continued rubbing his back but stayed silent.

Once his tears stopped flowing, you helped him stand and walk to his bed.

Turning to leave the room, you were stopped when he grabbed your hand firmly. “Stay.” he softly spoke, tugging you towards the bed.

“My lord, we can’t, what would my lady think-” you protested, worried for yourself and for him, already thinking of the scale of this scandal if word got out.

“I just...want someone to hold me, please.” he pleaded, eyes downcast towards the floor. 

You relented as he brought you into an embrace and pulled you into the bed. He rest his head in the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning your skin.

Within moments, he had fallen asleep, obviously emotionally drained with all the baggage he’d been carrying. You sigh, running a hand through his soft locks. He stirred in his sleep and moved his head closer to your hand.

You stayed there for a few minutes, a wave of exhaustion washing over you as well. Slowly, you were lulled to sleep with the sound of his breathing...

Awakening, you rubbed your eyes, it was still dark outside possibly nearing daybreak you assumed. Turning your head, you saw Lord James. He still remained clung to your side like a babe.

Although you wanted to stay in the comforts of the soft bed, one which could not be said for your own in the servants’ quarter, you decided to leave before his wife came upon the scene. 

Slowly, you wrung the arm he was hugging from his grasp and stood up from the bed. Fixing your attire you saw as he stirred from his sleep, moving to search for the source of heat that moved away.

You smiled, tugging the blankets over his figure and patting his head one last time before exiting the room.

With a soft click of the door, you scanned the halls, it was empty. You breathed a sigh of relief, it was a good thing no one caught you at this time. You knew what people would assume if they had seen you, a lusty commoner ruins another marriage.

You began your walk towards the servants’ shared quarters, the light of the moon passing through the window lighting your path. 

James awoke the next day, with a blanket draped over him. He smiled, knowing you did this. 

He heard a knock at the door “My lord, breakfast has been served and my lady is looking for you.” a servant called out before the clacking of their shoes indicated they walked away.

Sighing, he began to prepare himself for the day, grabbing a new tunic and fixing his disheveled appearance. 

Arriving at the dining hall, he saw servants running around the place, placing plates and utensils on the table. Some were bringing out the food from the kitchens.

Although his eyes drifted immediately to you. You were stood by his wife and listening to the orders she barked at you. With each command earning a nod of acknowledgement from you afterwards.

With a wave of her hand, she dismissed you and turned to start her meal. You bowed and turned to exit the room when your eyes met James’. You stilled before casting your eyes to the floor and walking out of the hall.

James understood it all too well, once being someone who laughed at the broken marriages of other nobles, caused by them falling prey to their servants’ temptation. He couldn’t laugh, now that he was one of them.

He knew it was wrong though. He was already married, and had a duty to fulfill to his family and wife. While you? You were trying to survive in society, not wanting to be part of any drama.

Snapping out of his trance when his wife called out to him, he sighed and took a seat at the table. Mind still focused on you.

Even though he consummated the marriage and had children with her. His love and yearning for you never faltered. You were by her side every step of their marriage. You took turns with the nannies in watching the children, sometimes being left to care for them when James and his wife went on trips.

Through the years you two did this careful dance. Feathery touches that drifted on your skin for moments before disappearing. Loving glances thrown at each other’s way. The soft tone of his voice when he spoke to you. Though others would think nothing of it, the two of you knew the fragile fantasy going on.

A fragile fantasy that all came crashing down that day.

Screaming could be heard throughout the whole manor, servants stayed quiet and steered away from the room, which you couldn’t really do.

As the personal servant of Lord James’ wife, you stood by the sidelines as they threw words, insults, and the occasional object at each other in their rage.

In her anger she threw one of the decorative stones on the nearby table. Lord James saw it and was able to jump out of the way.

They both stopped when they heard it collide with something else. Turning around, he saw the stone on the floor with blood staining one side of it.

You crouched down from the pain and put a hand on the side of your head, retracting it you could see the red color staining your skin. 

“(Y/N)!” James shouted, running over to help you up when his wife cut in.

“Don’t help that lowly servant! Pay attention to me you bastard! Do you think I wouldn’t notice?!” she shouted.

James paid no mind to her as he caught you in his arms. You had passed out from the blood loss, and probably the concussion on your head.

“Don’t think we aren’t done talking! You still haven’t answered me!” she continued to scream, though her words never reached his ears.

Picking you up he turned and glared at her. “We’ll speak about this tomorrow.” he firmly stated, before walking out and bring you to an empty room so he can tend to you.

You awoke with a headache, it was dark. Sitting up on the bed, you noticed you were one in the spare bedrooms and gripped your forehead as a stinging pain came. Right...you got hit by a rock.

You jumped when you heard the door open. Turning you came faced with Lord James, the upper buttons of his shirt being undone and a hand running through his hair.

He opened his eyes and met yours, then he scrambled towards you. “Are you okay? Is there still pain? Do you want me to call the physician?”

“Please do not worry yourself over me my lord.” you answered, wanting to keep the formality of the situation. Standing up from the bed you put your hand over his, which was placed on the side of your head. 

“I- uh yes.” he coughed, retracting his hand and putting them by his side. “I’m sorry about that, you didn’t need to get caught up in our argument.” 

Your eyes widened, your lady must be looking for you right now. “Excuse me, my lord.” you stated in panic, patting yourself down to look presentable before running out of the room.

“No need, she’s gone.” you heard James state as you stopped in your tracks. “Our divorce will be finalized in a few days, and she doesn’t want anything to do with me or you anymore.”

Thoughts raced through your mind, does she know about the incident, what would happen to you if she did. Your breathing picked up as you stilled.

James brought you into an embrace, your back hitting his chest as he dipped his head into the top of your head and inhaled. Your hair smelled lovely, comparable to that of other noble ladies. He shut the door, wanting to keep the privacy between you two.

“My lord, we shouldn’t it isn’t proper.” you stated, keeping firm on the fact you wanted to preserve not only your reputation but more importantly his.

“I don’t care.”

“But what would others think?”

“I don’t care.” he firmly stated, turning you around and pushing you against the wall.

“For years I’ve kept these feelings inside and now that there isn’t anything stopping me, I can finally express these repressed emotions.” he continued.

“I...I...-” he trailed.

“I command you to love me!” he shouted. trapping you against the wall with his forehead touching your own. 

You sigh in defeat and finally relent, reaching up and cupping his cheek, “I already do, my lord.”

#technoblade x reader #ranboo x reader #sapnap x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #tftsmp x reader #dream smp x reader #tales from the smp x reader

[uchihashisuii]

coming home - Kakashi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Falling into bed with Kakashi, after a too-long mission | ANBU!Kakashi/ANBU!FemReader PWP Word Count: 2798 Content warning: Established relationship, messy kissing, unprotected sex Author’s Note: a friend of mine said the words “kakashi” and “reader” in the same sentence and oops this happened. it’s just porn nd tender feelings. feel free to leave a comment i love you enjoy x Ao3 Link

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The pair of you fall through his open window in a cloud of smoke, your knee connecting with his stomach as you stumble into the darkened room. Kakashi says nothing but you apologize anyway, the word a breathless whisper. You're exhausted, weary right down to the bone as you manage to tilt yourself back, spine connecting with the thin wall. Without ceremony you slide to the floor, groaning as you go, eyes falling shut behind your mask.

The mission was a success, but the target had made you work for it.

Exhausted as you are, you must have nodded off for a short moment; the next thing you know there's a touch at your shoulder, making you jerk forward with a hand already on a kunai, fist launching forward -

To be caught in a gloved hand. You blink once, twice, then relax back against the wall as Kakashi gently uncurls your fist, yanking your gloves off to be thrown somewhere behind him. You watch him through lidded eyes, summoning the remaining vestiges of strength within you to begin pulling at the hidden ties and clasps of his vest, his head turning the smallest degree that tells you he watches you from behind his mask. You can almost feel the weight of his stare but do not rise to the bait, focusing on pulling the flak vest above his silver head. Once it's off you hear him sigh, so quiet you nearly miss it, and the flush it sparks on your face is enough to have you biting down on you tongue hard enough to taste copper.

You undress each other in silence until all that's left is bodysuits and masks, and two people huddled close enough that limbs tangle together amidst a pile of gear and weapons. The porcelain of your masks clack together as you tilt your head up, pressing your forehead against his. Even kneeling he towers above you, and a hand comes up to weave his fingers through your hair, not yet ready to let go as he holds you tight against him.

The moon shines in full force when at last Kakashi helps you stand, hands cold and breathing deep. You turn from him, reaching out to shutter the window and plunge the room in shadow. You lift a hand to your mask, the other tugging at the crimson silk knotted at the back of your head. It comes loose in an instant, the porcelain heavy in your palm as you breathe deeply of the fresh air, placing the mask on the windowsill. You hear Kakashi sigh into the night behind you, the sound making your mouth twitch into the smallest smile.

A weight against your back, then, and an arm over your shoulder. He leans down over you, caging you to the wall.

"Will you stay tonight?" Kakashi's voice is deep and clear, free of either mask he dons. It nearly makes you shiver, eyes falling closed as you turn in his arms to press your face to his chest. His bare chest is warm against you; solid and steady, his presence enough to lull you to a soft calm after days spent running and fighting.

Kakashi buries his nose in your hair and breathes deep; a part of you knows you must smell of sweat and blood but he never says a word, knowing he smells the same. His arms tighten around you and once again a wave of peace brushes over your skin, heady and gentle.

You nod against him in answer, mouth pressing a soft kiss to the elegant slope of his collarbone. Kakashi says nothing, simply grabbing you by the hand and leading you towards his futon. As you stand before it he reaches to pull the skintight shirt over your head, cool air making your heated skin prickle into gooseflesh. A small part of you wants to protest as Kakashi tosses your shirt somewhere behind you, his hand moving to cradle your face. You're just so tired - but then his head tilts down, mouth capturing yours in a kiss that steals your breath and silences every errant thought.

He tastes of sweat and a barely-there rush of desperation; the mission hadn't been particularly long, but the both of you silently agreed to keep your relationship within the walls on Konoha. Because of that it's been nearly a week with hardly any physical assurance; a hand on your shoulder, fingers brushing together as a canteen of water gets passed around. And you miss it, miss him; your lethargy seems to disperse like mist as your hands move to tug at the hem of his sleeveless shirt, yanking it impatiently up his toned chest.

Kakashi smiles against your mouth, giving your bottom lip a parting nip before he pulls away, just enough to pull his shirt up and over his head. His mouth is back on yours in a single breath, hands cradling your waist. You sigh into his mouth, Kakashi happy to swallow every sound that escapes. Impatient, you press yourself hard against him; the feel of your tightened nipples grazing over his heated chest makes your back arch towards him, hands moving of their own volition to grip at his shoulders. A low burn of arousal begins to lick at your spine, core tightening at the feel of his rough palm roving from your hip to the side of your breast, up and down and up again. You shudder in his arms, lips parting in a breathless murmur. Kakashi wastes no time, licking into your mouth to taste and tease, his grip on your waist tightening enough that it makes you tremble; you're needy and gasping already, and he's barely touched you. Your hand reaches to curve over the side of his neck, thumb brushing over the line of his jaw, stubble prickling against your softer skin. Kakashi's hips roll slowly forward, gasping into your mouth at the friction of his cock dragging on your stomach. He's hard beneath his trousers, back bowing forward to trap you in his arms as he ruts, slowly, against your pliant flesh.

Your breath starts coming in soft pants, skin heated and pulse a low roar in your ears. There's a growing slickness between your thighs, legs trembling as you hold to Kakashi for balance, nails digging in to his shoulder. His broad palm moves to cup your breast at the sensation of tiny pinpricks, a groan rumbling deep within his chest. Heat immediately floods your face and core at the sound, thin thread of patience finally snapping. Your palms move to flatten against Kakashi's chest, offering one last heated kiss before half-heartedly shoving him away from you. In the low light you can see the way his dark eye widens, the flush that spreads from the slope of his cheekbones and all the way down to his chest, a trail you'd followed with teeth and tongue in urgent nights past. This is not unlike those hurried trysts; all desperate hands and clever mouths. Your thighs press tightly together in an attempt to ease the pulsing ache at your core, yet find hardly any relief; it's been a long week of dirt and blood, you think, eyes half-lidded as you sit yourself down on the soft mattress. Arms reach forward to invite Kakashi into your embrace, breath stuttering as he immediately shucks his trousers and underwear, cock jutting proudly before he's on you.

Fingers tangle in your hair, his mouth stealing your breath in a bruising kiss. Your hips buck forward even as your legs spread to accommodate him, keening low beneath his eager tongue as you search for something, anything, to ease the burning tension within your slick cunt. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, pulling him close until his weight crushes you, in some vain attempt to press you both into one person. Kakashi stutters out your name, taking your bottom lip between his teeth as he grinds his cock over your center, eliciting a gasp as the head brushes over your clit.

"Please," you whisper, back arching nearly clear off the bed, "please, Kakashi -"

His chuckle is breathless, mouth moving down to press a kiss to your throat. His teeth scrape over your jawline as he descends, your eyes rolling back with a low groan. Kakashi sits back on his heels with a parting nip to your pulse-point, and then his hand moves from your hair to your breast, clever fingers pinching and rolling a hardened nipple expertly. Your gasp is loud enough you have half a mind to feel embarrassed, but it only spurs Kakashi further. He leans down to capture your other nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling over the bud and cheeks hollowed in an enthusiastic suckle; you think you might see stars, hand instantly grasping onto his silver hair, desperate for any anchor in this sudden storm you've found yourself in.

It's exactly what you need, you think distantly to yourself; to be taken care of, to be cherished. It's what brought you and Kakashi together in the first place; falling into bed after a particularly gruesome mission, desperate for release and relief and to forget. To feel something that would drown out the shame and the guilt and the numbness that comes hand-in-hand with the rank of ANBU. Your hands are stained with the blood of Konoha's enemies. But as you rake your nails down Kakashi's back, making him buck and groan your name, there is nothing left behind save four lines of raised skin that you know he'll wear as a badge of pride.

Kakashi parts from your breast, teeth dragging languidly over your nipple as he sits to full height, hand still plucking every manner of sigh and moan and gasp from your throat. It distracts you from your heavy thoughts, tongue poking out to wet your lips. It's still too dark to see properly, but Kakashi's silhouette is something lovely, painted in black and silver; broad shoulders and serpentine scars, dark eye kept locked on your face. Your hands move of their own volition to drag your nails down his muscled arms, mouth turning up into a smile as he groans above you. Kakashi tilts his head to the side, silver hair falling over his closed eye, to watch you silently. It almost makes you want to fidget, caught beneath that unflinching stare. Your face heats in a flush, swallowing thickly as you instinctively run a hand back over your hair.

"You're beautiful," he whispers after a beat, voice low enough that it stirs the lust burning low in your belly. You blink up at him, lips parting silently as your face positively burns.

"Funny," you reply with a breathless laugh, "I was thinking the same about you."

Kakashi barks a laugh, shaking his head. You frown, at that; you want to grab him tenderly by the cheek and insist that he's lovely and dedicated and beautiful and good, and all manner of things that brush much too close to an emotional line you're yet unwilling to cross. Instead you level a flat look in his direction, sitting up on your elbows to catch him with a kiss. He's too tall for you to reach his mouth, the pair of you sharing a quiet laugh as your lips just barely brush against his jaw before falling back onto the mattress with a roll of your eyes.

And then his hand delves between your thighs, and the laughter dies instantly on your lips, replaced by a breathless whimper of his name.

Kakashi's fingers trace over your damp folds with care, your back arching as your eyes instinctively close. You bend your knees, feet planted flat against the mattress to allow him further access, hips bucking towards his touch. Kakashi's thumb runs from your mound down to your entrance, just barely grazing over your clit as he goes, teasing in a way that makes you gasp. He dips his thumb just barely inside you, biting down on his bottom lip at how drenched you are. The digit swirls around your hole, gathering your slick before he moves his hand to press down, soft as a sigh, on your swollen clit. Your back arches, cunt clenching desperately around nothing, as the pad of his thumb rolls expertly against you. Your breath turns ragged, body taut as a bow, as he grinds and pinches and caresses where you need him most. Kakashi only chuckles, the bastard; he knows what his touch sparks within you, can see plain just how desperate you are for him. As his thumb picks up speed on your clit, he moves to loom above you, angling his hips so his cock presses against your aching slit. Your mouth dries, hand moving to grasp onto his bicep, corded muscle hard beneath your palm. Kakashi dips down to catch your gaze, smirking openly as he sheathes his cock inside you in one steady thrust.

He swallows your gasp, his kiss messy and warm as he slants his hips tight against you, palm pressed over your mound and thumb still working your clit. Your nerves are alight from the pressure, hips jerking forward in search of more. His cock stretches and fills you perfectly, and you can't help but dig your nails into his arm when he refuses to move.

Kakashi chuckles against your lips, deepening your kiss as he pulls his hips back, just enough to tilt forward in a grind that's low and slow, cock brushing against the sweet spot inside you. You can't suppress your whimper, feeling his cock twitch in response. His thumb presses harder in your clit, and you can feel your orgasm approach. Sweat begins to bead on your chest, your core tight and thighs beginning to shudder. Breaking the kiss, Kakashi sits back on his knees, hand moving to curve over your hip and hold you in place, just as he starts to move.

He moves his hips back, until only the head of his cock rests inside you, before thrusting forward and slamming his hips against you. You gasp as he fills you, the pressure in your core deepening as his pace increases. Kakashi watches your face with rapt attention, lips slightly parted as he fucks into you, hard enough you think your thighs may bruise. Your cunt clenches around his thick length, rapidly reaching your peak as his thumb nearly blurs over your clit, his pace frantic.

You throw your head back as the tightening in your core snaps without warning, meeting his thrusts desperately as you chase the sensation his hand and cock give you. You're sent over the edge as Kakashi's hand tightens on your hip, his crooked smile bright and half-feral as he pounds deep into your soaked cunt. Your walls pulse around his cock, all the tension in your core releasing between one breath and the next. You feel almost weightless from the orgasm, moaning lazily as Kakashi moves his hand from your cunt to your waist. There isn't time to bask; Kakashi is as desperate to come as you've ever seen him, holding your hips tight enough that his knuckles go white. He pulls your taut body towards him with his every thrust, groaning deep in his chest. His thrusts grow harsh, breath leaving him in heavy pants as he slams into you, nerves jolting with every drag of his cock inside you. You clench your walls tight around him, smirking when he shudders and gasps out your name. He returns your smirk with a glint in his eye, shifting the angle of his hips so the tip of his cock grinds against that rough patch inside you, making your back arch and a sharp gasp pass your lips.

With a final hard thrust, Kakashi buries his twitching cock deep in your cunt, pumping you full of his come. He finishes with a hoarse cry, jaw clenched hard enough to crack. Your hand moves up his arm and over his shoulder, fingers tangling in his hair as you watch him stutter and moan above you, cunt tightening around his throbbing cock. He pauses to catch his breath, gaze heavy and lidded as he empties himself within you, hips canting forward in shallow thrusts as you milk him dry.

Kakashi leans his weight against you, forehead pressed to your chest. You wrap your arm around his shoulders, hand carding back through his sweat-dampened hair, and hold him close. He doesn't pull out of you even as he cock begins to soften, content instead to listen to the steady pound of your heart, pressing a breathless kiss to your breast. You tangle your legs over his, eyes slipping shut as a sated smile curves your lips.

It's good to be home.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi/reader #hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi fanfic #naruto #anime #jules writes #THERE U GO BABEY

[saphirered]

Hey! You asked for individual character requests, so how about Vex x Reader (I thought I’d give you a break from EXU as well), where the reader has a massive crush on Vex, but is unfortunately really scared of Trinket? And maybe something about Vex helping them to relax and bond? Thanks regardless! I love your writing x

Thanks for requesting! This was definitely a fun one to write so I hope you enjoy! 😘

-

You may or may not like Vex. Okay, maybe a but more than just like, closer to a major crush but how could you not? Vex’s intelligent, quick-witted, drop dead gorgeous and don’t even get started on the woman’s charm or you might just swoon. Gods above, you’ve fallen for the half-elf hard. The worst part; you know she likes you too. She’s stated so several times, flirting with you more than anyone else and not just to get something from you. She’s not shy about it and takes every opportunity she can get to make you blush. It’s great, or would be great were it not for your very reasonable fear for big hulking bears and Vex just happens to call one such bear her closest of buddies if not closer to a fur baby.

You’re not sure what to do. Trinket, you know, is nothing short of lovely but you cannot get over your fears no matter how much you may like Vex. You’ve kept your distance and retreated within your shell every time the big grizzly is around. Bears are scary. Sharp claws and teeth, super strong. They can climb, swim and run. They’re great trackers too so there’s really no getting away from them.

“Darling, do you have a moment?” You’re seated at the table scribbling away on some paperwork you needed to take care of. Someone has to assure there’s any food and drink left after Grog has one of his solo exclusive parties again. They’re not really parties and only consist of him inviting Scanlan and Vax for a night of binging food and ale until the sun comes up but you’re always out of groceries right after.

Vex peaks around the corner leaning on the doorpost arms crossed. You put down your pen and nod. Vex nods her own head to the hallways behind her and you get the message getting up and following her to wherever she’s leading you. There’s a determination in her step but she tries to cover everything else which leaves you worried just a bit. What’s she up to?

“Vex, where are we going?” You fall in line next to her as you begin to ascend the stairs.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ve found the perfect sight I think you might enjoy and simply wouldn’t want you to miss out before the weather changes. I’d like to discuss some things with you too so, two birds one stone?” Okay that does sound like a reasonable explanation. Maybe almost a little too reasonable now you think of it. You continue walking until you’re stopped in front of a door, Vex opens it and allows you to step in.

Immediately you see the late afternoon sun shine through the clouds, casting rays of golden light upon the landscape contrasting with the darkened grey of the rain ahead. It’s an absolutely beautiful sight. You enter the room walking up to the window as Vex steps in and closes the door behind her. You hear a grumble and a soft but forceful ‘shh’ behind you.

“Just my stomach. I’m afraid I haven’t had lunch yet. Would you like to enjoy some with me?” You turn around at the offer, seeing the table to the side set with lunch for two and a huge plate of fresh fish. A brown grizzly tries to nibble on the tail of one fish in an attempt to pull it off the plates without his momma noticing and is quickly scolded.

“Trinket! What did I say! Stay hidden!” Vex scolds the bear as you squeal making a break for the door but Vex is quicker and grabs you by the arms stroking your shoulders in a calming motion as Trinket growls in shame, for disappointing Vex and being tempted by the delicious fish.

“Let me go, Vex.” You almost beg and Vex offers you a sad smile.

“I’m afraid I can’t just yet. I wanted to ease you into this but as we’re a bit short on time, we’ll have to take this route. Now calm down, just breathe, in and out. That’s it.” You do as she says, Vex guiding you and preventing a mental breakdown of being face to face with your fear in an enclosed space. Her presence makes it a little better knowing she at least is able to control Trinket to an extend and you know he won’t attack you outright but doesn’t get rid of the fear.

“Now, are you alright to sit down or am I going to have to tie you up to prevent you from running? I’m not opposed to the latter but I think we’d both prefer better circumstances.” Vex jokes, or half jokes. You know her well enough for that. You nod and she guides you over to the table, sitting you down on one chair while taking the other next to you, rubbing circles in your back to keep some nerves at bay as trinket makes himself comfortable, laying down, eyes closed but occasionally peaking, pretending to be asleep, much akin to a young child having been told to go to bed.

“Shall we eat?” Vex gestures to the set table and you have to admit the food does look divine, maybe minus the plate of fish though. You look between her and Trinket. You can do this. You’ve been in the same space as Trinket plenty of times before. Granted, those times the spaces were much bigger and there were several people between you and the bear at all times.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I could do with some food.” Your voice shakes but Vex smiles anyway. Small steps are better than none at all. She half expected you to have made a break for the window. She took all the precautions and ‘fear-proofed’ the room just in case. Awkwardly you’re eating and if Vex has learned one thing from animals is they don’t eat when they really mistrust the company, so people can’t be much different right? Vex attempts small talk asking you about your day and such and while you replied you always keep an eye on Trinket not so successfully pretending to be a sleep even mustering a fake snore.

Halfway through Vex keeps staring at you absentmindedly playing with her food leaning her chin upon her enclosed fist. She’s got plenty of ideas running through her head but all are circumstantial. Maybe she’ll go for a hail Mary.

“Darling, do you trust me?” The question makes you look at her confused. Have you done anything to show that you don’t? You don’t think so.

“Of course I do. You’ve saved my life more than I can count. I trust you more than anyone.” You admit a bit wary of where this is going but it’s Vex and what you said is true.

“Could you close your eyes for me?” You look between her and Trinket biting your lip. You do trust Vex but within your own head a battle between that love and trust for her and your fear for the big fuzzy animal rages on. What are you supposed to do?

Vex sees your struggle and gets up from her seat. She gracefully walks around the table making sure your eyes stay focussed on her and kneels down in front of you. Taking both of your hands in hers she squeezes them softly and gives you a gentle comforting smile.

“I want you to know your trust is not misplaced so I’ll give you this.” Vex takes the necklace from her neck and puts it around yours.

“Now I want this back when we leave this room but for now you’re in control of it. Will you close your eyes for me?” She asks once more. Her expression says enough to let you know if you don’t want this you don’t have to and literally anything but closing your eyes will show her you’re not ready yet and that would be okay. There’s no shame in taking small steps or finding a different approach. She’d come to terms with that too but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t relieved and happy when you nodded and closed your eyes.

Darkness. That’s all you see, and the occasional movement of light outside bleeding through distorting that darkness from time to time. You’re hyper focused on your other senses and you’re unsure wether that be because of closing one sense off or because you’re practically shaking with fear awaiting for that fight or flight reaction to kick in. You smell the sweet fruit from your plate, the gentle kick of the fermented grape juice, and of course the slight saltiness of fresh fish. You hear a grumbled moan and the sound of paws-no sharp nails hitting the fine stone floor step by step almost drowned out by the soft whispers of encouragement of Vex.

Trinket, as quietly and carefully as he can makes his way over to you. Vex shushes him a couple of times and the bear loyalty obeys the commands, laying down at your side. Vex takes one of your hands and you jump a little when she does so she turns to rubbing circles in the back of it as she guides your hand away from your lap towards Trinket.

“You’re doing great.” Vex can feel the gentle shake of your hand but you don’t resist so very slowly she guides you towards Trinket until your fingers touch his fur. You breathe in sharply holding your breath upon contact and freeze up, waiting for something to happen, be that a sharp claw slashing out at you, teeth munching down on you, a roar in your face but none of these come. Even Trinket awaits in suspense for your responses, his bear senses giving him enough insight in your discomfort.

Once you’ve gotten a moment to adjust Vex takes her hand off yours watching both you and Trinket. You don’t dare open your eyes yet but in the back of your mind you hear words of encouragement. You’re doing great. You got this and before you know it your fingers glide, all be it a little rigid and awkwardly, through Trinket’s fur.

“Perfect, darling. You’re doing absolutely wonderful.” You nod afraid to speak and break the spell you definitely must be under with this newfound courage.

Vex couldn’t be more proud of you. When you walked in here she wasn’t even sure she could have you be in the same room as Trinket for more than ten minutes and now you’re petting the bear. She watches as you slowly peak through one eye and when you deem the coast clear open the other too watching in amazement.

“He’s so soft…” You breathe barely audible and Vex laughs. Trinket grumbles at the compliment making you pull away your hand and jump a little but when no repercussion comes you put it back and continue petting the bear, who begins purring softly almost akin to an oversized cat. You can still feel your heartbeat in your throat but this is going relatively okay until you begin seeing spots and you start feeling dizzy. Vex notices and pulls your hand away from Trinket offering you your glass.

“Maybe that’s enough for now? We’ll take it easy.” You nod and feel the nerves subside as Trinket returns to his comfy spot by the window. It may be best not to push your luck and drive yourself into a panic attack.

“Don’t worry, darling. Before you know it we’ll have you riding into battle on Trinket’s back. Won’t you like that Trinket?” She shouts over her shoulder to the bear who replies in a happy moan. Vex pours you another glass of wine after she watches the colour drain from your face. Let’s stick to small steps. But for now, the first ones have been taken. Besides, she can’t deny you’ll look absolutely marvellous riding into battle on her favourite Trinket.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #vox machina x reader #vex x reader #vex'ahlia x reader #critical role #vox machina #vex’ahlia

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine leaving the fire nation with Zuko when he was banished and helping comfort him when he’s having his breakdown.

Your years of banishment had been pretty uneventful at first, just travelling the seas and every corner of the earth looking for the avatar who didn’t exist. Then he suddenly did and your life was turned into an endless chase. You honestly didn’t care that the avatar was the biggest threat to the fire nation but as it was Zuko’s mission to capture him you helped. Then after Zuko’s many failed attempts Ozai sent Azula and you went from being the hunters to the hunted. You, Iroh and Zuko all had to go into hiding and Zuko took it the hardest. He’d been in an awful mood for days but when Iroh offered to teach him lightning bending he perked up and put all his effort into learning the skill.

You however, were more than happy to stand and watch from a distance. You had always been scared of lightning and although you’d done a good job hiding it in the palace (if you showed it you knew Azula would constantly do it so you managed to stifle your flinches) you still didn’t want to get too close. So you stayed by camp preparing food for later when suddenly you heard yelling. You stood up and frowned to see Iroh and Zuko arguing. Zuko was clearly angry at Iroh and pushed past him storming away. You ran over to Iroh and watched as Zuko stalked away from your camp. “What happened, what’s wrong with him?”. Iroh sighed “he wanted me to fire lightning at him but I refused and now he’s heading out into the middle of a storm”. You frowned looking up at the sky, it was drizzling but it didn’t seem like storm weather. "I’ll go after him, see if I can get him to calm down" you suggested and Iroh nodded “thank you y/n”.

As you rushed after Zuko you were hit with the irony that this was what you always seemed to be doing. Following Zuko around, trying to calm him down, but that’s was friends did. When Zuko was banished you weren’t sure if it was the thought of being truly alone in the fire nation or just all the pain and sadness you knew he must be feeling but for some reason you demanded to go with him. The whole point of a banishment was to make people leave not stay and so you managed to talk your way into accompanying Zuko easily. You helped Iroh nurse Zuko back to health from his injury and it was really hard at first. When his burn was fresh it was so angry and painful but Ozai didn’t let you have the royal physician work on him. It was mainly up to you and Iroh and you did everything you could. At first the main worry was if Zuko would lose his eyesight or even his eye but Iroh managed to save both. When Zuko did wake up he was in excruciating pain constantly and it killed you to see him lie so clearly wreathing in pain but refusing to show it. He thought he deserved it and that killed you further. You wanted to shake him and yell that it wasn’t his fault, that it was Ozai’s but Zuko had a problem seeing who his father was. You’d given up trying to tell him and for the sake of your friendship decided to just support him, Iroh assured you Zuko would eventually realise the truth of everything and you prayed he was right.

You continued following Zuko but through the countryside but he was moving very quickly and you struggled to gain any ground on him. Soon Zuko disappeared from your view altogether and you just carried on hoping you’d find him. Iroh was right and soon the light rain turned into a downpour. Then the lightning started and you jumped every time a bolt boomed across the valley. If it was anyone else the lightning would’ve scared you off but Zuko was your closest friend, you had to find him. Your foot slipped as another lightning bolt lit up the sky and you sighed but continued to follow the direction Zuko had gone in. You were beginning to give up finding him when you came to the top of the hill and saw him stood on a cliff edge. You paused taken back at the sight and then you realised what he was yelling. He was  screaming for lightning to hit him, sobbing and yelling at the storm to strike him. He looked the most broken you’d ever seen him. Even worse than when he was first banished, at least then he’d had a mission he pretended was reasonable, now as a fugitive hiding from Azula as well as the earth kingdom he didn’t have that. He didn’t have any hope. Zuko was broken and Ozai had done this to him. The thought alone brought tears to your eyes and reaffirmed the fierce protectiveness you felt for him. "Zuko!" you yelled through the storm and somehow he heard you. He turned around shocked before returning his gaze to the lightning "what are you doing here y/n?". "I’m making sure you’re not doing anything stupid like trying to get hit by lightning". Zuko didn’t respond to your joke "go back y/n" he said simply and you paused. "No i...Zuko this is dangerous the storm is really close". "So go" Zuko said yelling at you now. He was angry at the world and you were the nearest thing for him to vent it through.  "I don’t want you here i didn’t ask you to come with me! If it’s so dangerous then go! You never should've come here with me anyway, you should be back in the fire nation not here with me". "Wait why is this about me leaving the fire nation with you?" you asked and Zuko glared. "Because you and my uncle are always so selfless, it makes me sick! You changed your whole lives for me, you helped me recover from my burn you both try and appease me but it’s useless! I will never accomplish my mission, i will never be able to take us back home! I’ve ruined both of your lives and seeing you trying to help me makes me sick with anger. I can’t fix it y/n, i can't repair the damage, i can’t get my honour back, I can’t" he yelled and collapsed on his knees shaking with tears. You wrapped your arms around him and held him as he carried on sobbing. "No wonder father prefers Azula i’m useless! Useless, useless" he carried on hitting the ground with his fists until you grabbed them so he couldn’t. Zuko kept repeating the world useless however and so you just held onto him tightly as he cried. Eventually he stopped talking and just sobbed into your neck. You were crying too seeing him so defeated and just held onto him tightly. The rain was mercilessly pelting you both but you didn’t even register it, you were too focused on what was happening to your best friend. "You’re not alone and you’re not useless" you told him "we don’t care for you because we think you’ll save us but because we love you, you are worth it Zuko" you told him raising his face to yours "you are worthy". Zuko just stared so you hugged him again and Zuko clutched you tightly. The rain showed no signs of stopping and after a close lightning bolt you managed to get Zuko to stand and come with you. You found shelter in a small cave and led him inside. Zuko collapsed on the floor as soon as he was inside and you helped him lean against the side of the cave. He was shaking and still crying so you wrapped your arms around him again. Zuko leant into you and you patted his back trying to soothe him. Finally Zuko stopped crying but he didn’t move away from you. You supposed he needed the comfort and had no intention of denying him that...but you were still so close to all the rain and cold. Your feet and hands were freezing and you were itching to make a fire and move further into the cave. After waiting as long as you could you spoke softly "Zuko we should make a fire....you’re freezing". Zuko got off you without a word and followed you as you walked further into the cave. You found the makings of an old campfire and the wood lit instantly. Zuko moved closer to the fire and sat hunched over his knees. You came to sit beside him and silence settled. You were sure he must be hungry and searched through your bag for some food. It was soaked but you managed to find an only slightly damp packet of fire flakes at the bottom. You opened it and held it out to Zuko. He glanced at you over his shoulder and you shook it "we won’t be able to travel in this weather so we'll be stuck here for the night, i’m sorry but this is the only food i have". Zuko sniffed "it’s okay" and took a handful. You both sat munching on the food quietly until it was all gone. You added the packet to the flame and tried warming your hands on the fire. "You’re shivering" Zuko noticed and you shrugged "it’s okay". "No it’s not, you’re soaking wet and trapped in this cave all because of me". You shook your head "not because of you, yes i choose to follow you but not because I had to. I did it because i wanted to, i’m not your responsibility". Zuko shrugged "i guess but you wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for me". You knew he actually meant this whole situation not just the cave and sighed worried he still blamed himself. "Maybe but we are here so the only thing to do is to make the best of it, how about we try to sleep? Things will look better in the morning". Zuko didn’t reply but you laid down close to the fire and hoped he’d copy you. "Make the best of it" you heard Zuko mutter "okay". Zuko suddenly grabbed your shoulders and began dragging you to the side of the fire nearest the cave opening. "What are you doing?" you asked laughing and Zuko smiled "making the best of it, if we have to sleep here then you should be near the fire but we also need to make sure it doesn’t go out so we’ll block the wind with our bodies and still get the benefit of the fire”. The wind blew angrily against your back and you frowned before Zuko sat down putting himself between it and you. He blocked the cold and the fire’s warmth was more noticeable. "Better?" he asked and you nodded "thanks". A massive lightning bolt struck right outside the cave and your whole body jumped. Zuko laughed “what was that?”. “I...I hate lightning”. “What since when?” Zuko asked and you shrugged “since forever, i can usually hide it when i’m safe inside but when I’m in the middle of a storm....” you trailed off when another bolt struck and you flinched again. They seemed to be getting closer. Zuko smirked “it’s okay it can’t get us in here”. You nodded “i know that but...”. Zuko paused and cautiously put an arm around you “does this help?”. You managed not to blush but you couldn’t look at his face. “I...yes”. Zuko nodded and he smiled slightly before pausing. "Y/n about today....". "It’s okay" you said immediately but Zuko shook his head. "No it’s not, i didn’t mean to yell at you but i did and that was wrong. I’m so sorry". "You were just upset" you shrugged and Zuko nodded "i was but you are not the person to direct that at, all you and my uncle have ever done is be there for me, even changing your whole lives for me and i guess i feel guilty about that, like i’ve dragged you down with me". "You didn’t drag me anywhere i came willingly and so did your uncle because we care about you, you don’t have to be held responsible for that, we don’t hold you to that and so you shouldn’t. We made our decision and neither of us would change it". "Really you’d still decide to follow me out here in the storm?" Zuko asked with a smirk. "I’d like to say yes but i can’t feel my toes". Zuko laughed but noticed you were indeed still shivering. Zuko moved closer to you again and tightened his grip on you. You didn’t manage to hide your blush this time but luckily Zuko was looking away to also hide his own blush so he didn’t notice. "Thank you" Zuko said suddenly "that’s what i’m trying to say....i don’t know what i did to deserve someone like you in my life but somehow you’re here and i want to thank you, i don’t do it enough but thank you for being with me, for not giving up on me, it means a lot". "I’ll always be here for you" you smiled. "Really?" Zuko asked smiling, you knew he was joking but could also hear the sharp undertone of his voice, that part that was seriously asking, scared you didn’t mean it. "Always" you nodded and laid a hand on his cheek. Zuko’s blush deepened and you pretended not to notice. "We should go to sleep” you smiled and Zuko nodded still pink "erm good idea". You lowered your head against his chest to hide your smirk at Zuko’s awkwardness and folded into his side. With the rain pouring outside and the warm fire you were actually very comfortable. Zuko seemed to be too and you smiled as he stroked your arm absentmindedly "goodnight y/n" he said softly and you smiled "goodnight Zuko".

#zuko #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #Avatar The Last Airbender #avatar the last airbender imagine #avatar the last airbender zuko #atla zuko imagine #avatar zuko #atla iroh #atla azula #atla ozai #avatar iroh #avatar ozai #avatar azula #firenation royalty #fire nation #prince zuko #fire nation royalty #fire nation royal family #lightning bending

[diminuel]

i just finished reading To Walk With You Again 😍 Got really happy, got heartbroken, then super happy again. do u have any omega!cas fic recs that are long reads? ❤

Thank you so much! ♥♥

I think "long reads" are up to the readers, but I picked a couple that are 80k and up! I hope this gives you something to read! ♥ And if I forgot a longer omega!Cas fic please let me know! The one on this lists are some I've definitely read!

Longer list below the read more!

Expectations by everandanon (418k)

For centuries, the Winchester princes have taken omegas from the northern town of New Eden to bear the royal heirs before exiling them to the countryside - a punishment for a past dispute caused by the town's strict beliefs. When Prince John marries Lady Mary of Campbell and puts a Queen on the throne, however, most people assume the tradition has been set aside.

Thus, it's a complete surprise to Dean when he's sent to New Eden to retrieve the girl they've arranged for.

Cas, as a male omega in backward New Eden, has been ostracized and condemned by his town since he presented. To make matters worse? His sister is being given away to the crown prince of Winchester, never to return.

But when the morning before the prince's arrival dawns and Anna is nowhere to be found, the town's council decides there’s only one thing for it:

They’ll simply have to give him Cas instead.

All Things In Succession by everandanon (313k)

When thirteen-year-old Castiel unexpectedly presents as an omega, everything changes. Worst of all, his older brother is sending him away — to be married. Still, though everyone insists Cas can’t be a knight anymore, maybe his new husband will feel differently.

As for Dean, the last thing he’s expecting his mysterious husband-to-be is a child. Though he’s furious with his dad and Cas’s older brother, Dean goes through with the marriage, anyway. If he doesn’t, they’ll give the poor kid to someone else, and who knows what will happen to him? Nah, Dean’ll just stash the kid in the barracks to train to his heart’s content, and life will go on.

Of course, Cas can’t stay a kid forever, but as the years pass, Dean seems more and more determined to pretend otherwise . . .

Coming to Terms by Unforth (169k)

Naomi Novak has laid out her son's entire life. Castiel Novak-Shurley must get a great education, focus on business, ignore frivolous things, attend Harvard Business School, become an investment banker at International Angel Deposit Bank, maintain his virtue, marry a proper beta or omega, and make lots of alpha babies. Even when fitting her expectations was difficult for him, Castiel has done his best to comply.

Until now.

His mother is arranging a marriage for him - he doesn't know to whom, but he knows it's happening, and soon - and before he ties the knot (figuratively and literally) Castiel wants to have an experience all his own: he wants to bottom for an alpha.

Nervous, terrified, Castiel goes to Palmeton’s red light district and hires Jensen, a gorgeous young alpha prostitute who smells like fresh-cut grass and sunshine and lemonade. With Jensen, Castiel finds the courage to ask for what he wants.

Being knotted is amazing. Castiel’s not an omega, but…but being with Jensen - who's real name turns out to be Dean - is everything Castiel has dreamed of.

And now he has to figure out: how is he supposed to go the rest of his life without experiencing that again?

No Righteous Path by jupiter_james (111k)

On his 40th birthday, Dean Winchester suddenly begins to worry that he may have lost his chance for a real mate. He's been so focused on his business as a 24-hour roofing and repairman, that he's never taken the time to date properly, or even make any lasting friendships outside of his family. Beginning in their late 30's, alphas and omegas start to lose their mating and bonding hormones, making it more difficult - and often impossible - to mate or bond with anyone past a certain age. But as a modern Alpha, Dean would be content with a companion, at least. Blood bonds aren't the be-all, end-all. However, after a late night emergency roofing repair call from Castiel Novak, Omega, Dean starts to hope. Yearn. The only hangup is that Castiel admits to being as old-fashioned as the books he teaches. Nervous to go against his religious upbringing by being with someone who he can't bond properly, as alphas and omegas are intended to do. But he can't deny his attraction to Dean, and despite his sensibilities, he thinks that, just maybe, he can change for the man he's falling in love with.

A Little Grace by tricia_16 (99k)

Castiel is well aware that a handsome, surprisingly gentle alpha like Dean was way out of his league even before he made the decision to become a single parent.

Dean's been kicking himself for blowing his shot with Cas before he could even ask for it, and now Cas is happily taken (and adorably pregnant) by an alpha who doesn't deserve him.

Neither one of them could have guessed that Castiel's baby would be what brings them together, but it turns out that a little Grace goes a long way.

Choice Series by MashiarasDream (96k)

It’s the dark ages. All Omegas are enslaved. That’s just the way the world is and Castiel has learned to accept it. But while he has no hope for the world to change, he still wishes for things, no matter how unlikely they are to happen. Right now, he wishes that Dean’s pack would come into some money. Because winter is coming and Castiel is an additional mouth to feed. He knows what that means for him, and he’ll not make it difficult for the Alpha if selling him on is how it has to be. But he wishes. Oh, how he wishes.

By the Dark of the Moon by r2metoo (92k)

John Winchester has this saying: Alphas are the head of the pack, but Omegas are the brains. And that's what Dean wants.

Wool for the Summer by HCMichele (87k)

Regardless of season, Dean Winchester is a loyal customer of The Bees' Knees' wool works on Etsy. It might or might not be because of the amazing scent he can detect on the pieces.

(He also might or might not have bonded with said scent.)

Meanwhile, his coffee house has an intriguing new regular who appears to share his same fondness for wool and disregard for the weather, dreams of having a two digit number of pups, and Dean might or might not be in love with him. Which is a problem, considering his High School girlfriend has just moved into the city and they're trying to give it another go at a relationship that only ended because Dean wanted a mate and a family and she could care less for it.

Please Be Happy by ishipitsobad (83k)

Castiel is the youngest Prince of the Novak bloodline, an Omega, a prize to be won.

His oldest brother Michael, the King of Eden, holds a competition with Castiel’s hand in marriage as the prize, intending for some influential noble to win and bring powerful alliances to the kingdom.

So imagine Michael's horror when Dean Winchester, the notoriously unruly Alpha of the Borderlands shows up, and has every intention of undermining his plans and winning the competition.

But Dean has nothing but noble intentions where Castiel is concerned.

#Anonymous #Diminuel replies #ABO dynamics #fic rec #omega!Cas #alpha!Dean #Destiel

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (Part 6): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: the search for a new place to settle has begun, but you’re left searching for a reason for Geto to stay.  

wc: 1.9k

tw: none

a/n: shorter chapter, but I have something super-sweet in the works for the upcoming parts because *you know I love sweets and lemons*

masterlist

“I cannot have you like I want to.” 

The words the General spoke the night before ring fresh in your mind as Kaori goes about her task of washing and preparing you for the day. He had left before you awoke, but you know you’ll see him at some point during the day. It seems that his explanation will have to wait, then. 

“You’re very quiet today, Lady y/n,” Kaori whispers, pouring water down your back. “Did something happen?” 

Could you tell her the truth? Could you tell her what the General said and what you did in response? 

“Nothing’s wrong; I’m just tired today.” 

“I’m sure you can catch up on your rest after we see Haibara and Gojo off.” 

“They leave today?” you ask, turning around to face her.

“We have to move quickly these days.” Kaori states, her face grim. “We can’t waste a single day as we get closer to the Imperial Palace.” 

“What will happen when we get there?” You wonder aloud, and Kaori shakes her head. 

“No, you’re not thinking like a warrior, my Lady.” Kaori stands and you do the same, placing the towel around your frame. “The question is not what we’ll do when we get there. It’s what will happen before we get there.” Your frown smooths out into a look of understanding, and suddenly, a headache begins to set in. Any number of things could occur before you arrived at the Imperial Palace, and a great many of those things could be terrible for both you and Geto.

“You needn’t worry, my Lady. Master Geto has a plan for everything. We just need to follow his orders, and everything will work out fine.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

Your mouth is full of grilled fish when you feel the familiar chubby fingers of Yuji Itadori on your arm. You look down at the toddler with expectation of more food being pressed to your lips - despite it being lunchtime - but instead, he’s holding a dandelion. 

“Make a wish!” You laugh, then close your eyes, searching for something to wish for. When you find it, you send it up to whatever gods are listening, and then blow on the dandelion with all of the breath in your lungs. 

Yuji lets out an astonished whoa and then watches the little spores blow away in the light breeze. “Nobara!” he calls out, running away. “We need more dandy-lions!” The two children dash off into the field, and you wonder about the brain cell they share before Kaori and her other friend hiss your name. 

“Lady y/n, he’s coming,” Kaori points toward the three men striding toward your small group, and you perk up at the sight of Geto. His eyes are on you, and at the contact, he smiles widely. 

“Are you enjoying your meal, ladies?” Haibara asks, trailing behind Geto and Gojo. 

“Yes, the fish is heavenly,” Kaori replies eagerly. “Give the cook our best.” 

“Will do,” he answers, and Geto sits beside you on the blanket. 

“Might I try a piece?” he inquires, and you oblige, feeding him with your fingers just like he has done to you many times. When his mouth makes contact with your fingers, you feel his tongue slide against the tips of them and for a moment, you wish he wouldn’t let go. But he does, and hums as he eats the fish thoughtfully. You smile at him and he returns the expression, placing his hand on yours before turning back to the two men who are left standing. 

“I’ll see you two in a few hours.” Gojo and Haibara take off, followed by Kaori and her friend - who wags her eyebrows at you before leaving the two of you alone in the field. You want to run your hands through Geto’s hair and ask him about his day, ask him about his words the night before, but you keep yourself rooted to where you are. It’s only after a moment of hesitation that Geto closes the gap between you and pulls you into his chest, examining the horizon with wide eyes. 

“What is on your mind, great general?” you whisper, and he looks down at you, lips curled up in a half-smile. 

“Would you believe me if I said it’s you?” 

“I would,” you answer. He exhales slowly, the smile dropping from his face before he returns his gaze to the horizon. 

“I must confess that you have placed me in quite a predicament, little one,” he begins, placing a kiss at the top of your head and smoothing a hand down your spine.

“Oh?” 

“Don’t play coy.” Your laughter peals out across the field like bells in the wind, and Geto chuckles as well, his shoulders shaking as he bends over a little. 

“And this… predicament… Is this the one you spoke of last night?” You were pulling answers out of him, but it seems only right for you to have to search for the truth. Because, somewhere in that truth, you know you’ll find your own version of what you felt for him. 

“The very same one... I want to have you, y/n; I want to make you mine.” 

“And what’s stopping you?” Geto inhales deeply, all of the laughter from before vanishing from his face in an instant. 

“I made a promise to myself on your behalf. I swore I would not take you to bed and - instead - preserve your maidenhood for whomever you choose to be with. My plan has always been to release you to your freedom in the end.” Your shock is evident by the way you lean away from him, but Geto makes no move to pull you in again. He eyes you carefully as you process his words, unsure of how to react. 

“So, I am only a pawn to you.” Realization sweeps over Geto’s features, smoothing them out to a wide-eyed gaze as he shakes his head. 

“No, no, little one,” He reaches a hand out and grazes your cheek with the back of his knuckles, the gesture making you close your eyes and instinctively lean into his touch again. “I want you to be happy. If your happiness is not here with m-- with us, then I will not force you to stay when I become Emperor. You will be afforded all of the privileges of a free woman, as you were before.” 

“But…” You capture his hand on your cheek, pressing a kiss to his palm. “What if I have found some happiness here with you?” 

“I would be elated to have you accompany me, if that is the truth.” 

“Why would I lie to you?” The side-eye Geto gives you makes you chuckle, and you lean into his arm again, thinking about the warmth of his body and how he feels so familiar now. He always smells like fresh rain, and the way spoke to you never bordered on disrespectful or harsh. At least, not anymore. “Geto, I--” 

“I know what you’re going to say,” he interrupts, holding a finger up to your lips. “But I haven’t divulged everything yet.” You wait for his second round of speech, holding your breath. “Should I be overcome, and my father wins the war… I am also saving your maidenhood so you can be spared. If it comes out that you have lain with me, I know my family will not hesitate to have you murdered.”

“Your father wouldn’t do such a barbaric thi-” 

“You don't know my father. Nor do you know my half-brothers. They are ruthless, y/n. And if my father will not have you punished for being the mistress of a traitor, I know that my brothers will not hesitate.” The breath escapes your lungs slowly and Geto looks down at you again, fixing you with his onyx eyes. “And so I ask you this: would you be satisfied with possibly losing your life for being with a traitor to the crown? Or would you rather resist the temptation, and live a long life with few regrets?” Your hand flies to his chest, right above his heart, and you answer confidently: 

“Whichever way the wind blows, I will not regret taking this chance to be with you.” At this, Geto hastily pulls you in for a deep kiss, holding onto you as if the source of life itself is wrapped in the sinew of your bones. 

______

“Safe travels, brother.” You observe Geto and Gojo - equal in stature but differing in composure - clasp arms before Geto turns to Haibara and repeats the motion; pulling him in and whispering something in his ear. Haibara pulls away and laughs, smiling widely before they climb onto their white horses. A group of soldiers are waiting for them as they ride off into the horizon, leaving the entire camp behind as the hooves of the beasts kick up massive amounts of dust. 

You shield yourself behind Geto’s broad frame as they depart, and the other members of the gathered crowd disperse easily, leaving the two of you standing in the field with Nanami. “Master Geto,” Nanami begins, and Geto turns away from the disappearing figures to face the youth. 

“Yes, Nanami?” 

“It has come to my attention that Emissary Noritoshi made it back to the Imperial Palace, and was immediately thrown out upon the Emperor’s realization that he had not secured a deal with you.” 

“Will they be sending another emissary, then?” 

“Within the week, sir.” You examine Geto’s face as he wraps an arm around your waist protectively, squinting his eyes. 

“Send for a scout tomorrow morning. I need to know if this emissary is any different from Noritoshi in his tactics.” 

“Shall I call upon Yuuta, sir?” 

“Yes; he would fare well. Thank you, Nanami.” Nanami bows slightly to Geto, and then to you, departing just as quietly as he had arrived. “And you…” Geto squeezes you closer to him. “You need to get some rest. We will recommence training tomorrow morning, after breakfast.” A groan escapes your lips at the thought of Geto making you fight with a rake again, but you follow him back to the tent anyways.

As you undress for the night, you wonder if Geto is really focusing on his plans or if he’s trying his best not to watch as you disrobe and expose yourself for his eyes again. But when you sneak a glance over your shoulder, he’s wholly focusing on his maps and diagrams, left hand propping his chin up as he faces away from you. Sighing, you dress in your night clothes and slide into bed, wishing that you could just feel his arms wrap around you before you drift off to sleep.

Some god heard you, you realize, as Geto pushes away from his desk and stands, wiping his face in exhaustion. Your body tingles with hyper awareness as Geto trims the wick of the lamps around the tent and shuffles over to the bed, yawning while tossing his haori and hakashita off. The moment he slides in next you and places his large arms around you, you jolt a little, and you feel his warm breath on your skin as he chuckles. 

“Easy there, y/n. I’m not going to hurt you.” You turn to face him in the semi-darkness and place both hands on his face. 

“I wasn’t worried about that,” you answer, and he hums, pulling you in for another kiss before tapping one to your nose. “Quite the opposite, actually.” Geto replies with a rumble in his chest, hands sliding further down to your ass. But the temptation is quickly overcome when he pulls his hands away, placing them behind his head as he lays on his back. 

“You cannot tempt me that easily, little one,” he breathes, exhaling through his nose. “Sleep well; goodnight.” You roll onto your side in defeat, but a small smile plays across both of your faces as you fall asleep, the wheels of imagination and desire turning around and around in your minds. 

_______________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover​ @jotazinha​ @just4readingfics​ @mxhi​ @sammytamaki​ @brownskinnedgirll​ @keelyshayee​ @leanne-tamashi​ @vabybizzle​ @amaris9​ 

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen getou #jjk geto #geto suguru #getou x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo satoru

[morganaspendragonss]

give me all your love now

full credit for the idea goes to jamie ( @silvarafael ), i am just the person lucky enough to be trusted to write it. thank you for letting me, lovely, i hope i did it justice 💚

title from we might be dead by tomorrow by soko

ao3 | 2.6k | 2.12 fix-it of sorts

The fire is everywhere, and all TK can think is that they’re going to die here.

For all his training, for all his experience, panic still has him by the throat; he’s been trapped in fire plenty of times before, but it’s never been like this. It’s never been his house, never been his boyfriend in danger. Carlos’s terrified gaze locks onto his as they crouch on the bedroom floor, and TK has to force himself to focus because it’s not just his life on the line anymore — Carlos needs him to take charge.

He searches through the smoke for something, anything, that could help them, his eyes eventually alighting upon the window. 

“The window,” he says, coughing. “How far down do you think that drop is?”

Carlos frowns. “Um, I—twenty feet? Twenty-five?”

TK barely manages to suppress a wince; a twenty foot drop is no joke, and visions of all the different injuries they could receive flash through his mind, ranging from a few bruises to a broken neck. But the flames are getting ever closer and the smoke thicker, and he knows that there’s no other option.

Either they jump, or they die.

“Come on.” He grabs Carlos’s arm, one hand on his back to keep him low, and they stumble over to the window together. Carlos seizes a chair and slams it into the glass until it shatters, grunting with the exertion.

He takes a step backwards when it’s done, tossing the chair away and looking at TK nervously. TK understands that fear, but he refuses to let it show right now, not when Carlos is so obviously struggling as it is.

“Go on,” he says, “you go first. I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”

“Okay.” Carlos nods and turns to the window, and TK takes the opportunity to let his mask slip. He folds in on himself with a hand pressed against his chest, closing his eyes as he fights to take a breath. His vision is going hazy at the edges and he knows they need to get out as soon as possible—but he refuses to leave before Carlos does. 

As much as Carlos would protest, TK knows that he is the priority in this situation. He doesn’t care what happens to him, as long as Carlos gets out and lives.

Then hands are on his face, gently bringing his head up. TK meets Carlos’s eyes, aching at the raw pain in them—Carlos so rarely lets his worry and fear show openly like this, and TK knows that the same thoughts he’s been having are running through his boyfriend’s mind.

“If we don’t…” Carlos starts, shaking his head. “If we…”

His jaw clenches, eyes going wide, and TK puts his own palms on Carlos’s cheeks, steeling himself for what they both believe might be the last words they say to each other.

He keeps his voice as calm as possible when he says, “Hey. I love you too, okay? Now go!”

He pushes on Carlos’s arm for emphasis, and lets out a breath of relief when Carlos nods and turns back around, stepping to the window. His hands clench briefly at his sides before he seems to steady himself and climbs onto the sill. Carlos sends him one last backwards glance, and TK forces a smile, a fresh pain stabbing through his heart as he gets one in return.

Then Carlos is gone, disappearing through the window with a barely audible yell. TK waits a minute, praying that Carlos is unhurt—or, as unhurt as possible—then moves forward, reaching to haul himself up.

But, before he can, the bedroom door crashes open. TK whips around, his watering eyes taking a second to recognise the bodies in the doorway as his dad and Billy.

“TK!” his dad calls. “Follow us!”

He stumbles over, gratefully accepting the damp cloth from Billy. “Dad,” he croaks. “Carlos, he—” He gestures to the window, hoping the message gets across as another coughing fit almost sends him to his knees. He’s steadied—he doesn’t know who by—then almost dragged out of the room, only aware of a guiding hand on his back and the sounds of his home collapsing around them. Dimly, he registers another voice, another set of hands, but TK can only focus on putting one foot in front of the other, everything else blending into a distorted mess of sensations.

Fresh air, when it hits, is both a blessing and a curse. TK heaves, falling to the ground as he tries to take in lungfuls of clean oxygen, but his throat is raw and his chest tight, and black spots dance in his vision as he fails to breathe. He’s vaguely aware of shapes moving around him, of the searing heat still at his back, but the burning inside him and the pounding of his own heart in his ears overwhelms it all; panic settles deep within him, and TK begins to slip as the darkness only grows.

It feels like a blink, but when he comes back to himself, the scenery is completely changed. He’s no longer outside, rough tarmac under his palms, but flat on his back, staring up at what his clouded mind slowly comes to realise is the inside of an ambulance. 

TK sits bolt upright, ignoring the dizziness that washes over him, and bats clumsily at his face until he manages to dislodge the oxygen mask someone must have strapped on him. He blinks hard, trying to clear his vision, but someone steps in front of him before he has a chance to figure out what’s going on.

“That stays on, Strand,” Captain Vega admonishes, replacing the mask over his mouth and nose. TK squints up at her, confusion clouding his thoughts.

“Cap? What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too,” she says wryly, before appearing to reconsider. “Actually, no, it’s not. Next time we’re in an ambulance together, please try and make sure that it’s because you’re doing your job, and not because you’re the patient.”

It takes a second for her words to process, but when they do, it’s like a puzzle finally falling into place. TK’s eyes widen and he shoves at the gurney, attempting to drag his uncooperative body into a standing position. He fails fairly spectacularly, his frantic wriggles leading him to almost roll off the gurney and onto the floor — if it weren’t for Tommy catching him at the last second, he’d probably have a broken nose to add to his list of injuries. Whatever those injuries are, anyway.

“Woah, woah, woah!” she cries. “What do you think you’re doing?”

TK takes a moment to breathe, the exertion setting his aching lungs aflame, then looks up at Tommy through watering eyes. “Carlos,” he gasps, the single word taking all the air he has.

Tommy’s face softens and she glances out of the ambulance. “Paramedics are with him,” she says, and TK’s heart plummets when no further explanation is forthcoming. That means… Well, he knows what it means. 

It means that Carlos is hurt, badly, and Tommy doesn’t want to tell him.

He opens his mouth to argue, to plead, to do something, but before he can, his dad appears, switching out with Tommy in the ambulance. Other paramedics he thinks he vaguely recognises from calls jump in too, slamming the doors shut behind them. One of them tries to guide him back onto the gurney, but TK fights against them, panicking as the rig rumbles to life.

“No, I can’t leave. Carlos — I need to see him. Please. Please, I—”

“TK!” His dad is gripping onto his wrists, pinning them down, and TK is too weak to stop him. “You need to calm down, okay? You inhaled a dangerous amount of smoke back there; you have to focus on breathing for us.”

“But—Carlos—”

“Is already being transported.” His dad sighs, loosening his grip. “Son… He fell twenty feet. They wanted to get him to hospital as soon as possible.”

The information sinks in slowly, the guilt following much faster. TK slumps, a sudden, intense weariness overcoming his body even as his mind goes into overdrive with worry. He still itches to know how bad Carlos is, but his imagination fills in the gaps plenty, and TK feels sick with the knowledge that whatever happened, it’s on him.

Carlos fell twenty feet, and TK was the one to tell him to jump.

This is all his fault.

*

“You should not be out of bed.”

TK looks up from pulling on the shirt Paul had donated, scowling at his dad. “I’m fine,” he counters, though his lungs decide to betray him by sending him into a coughing fit.

“Want to try that one again?”

When he’s recovered, TK takes a couple of deep breaths, then looks his dad dead in the eyes. “Sure. I’m fine.”

His voice is raspy and talking grates at his throat, but no coughs follow this time, so TK considers his point firmly proven and continues getting dressed. He can feel his dad’s gaze burning holes in his head, but he ignores him, pushing himself up onto unsteady feet.

His dad shakes his head, but walks over and lets TK lean on him. It’s frustrating to need the support; TK is grateful for it, but it also means that he can’t go anywhere without his dad agreeing to move, which he knows he’s going to refuse to do.

“The doctors wanted to keep you overnight.”

“It’s not like I’m going to leave the hospital,” TK points out. 

“But you won’t be getting any rest either, and they specifically told you to do that.”

“What do you want me to do, Dad?” he demands. The outburst hurts, but TK swallows down the pain and focuses his gaze on his dad, setting his jaw. “I need to see him; I need to know that he’s going to be okay.”

“I know that, son,” his dad says, sighing. “But you can’t take care of him if you don’t take care of yourself.”

“I’m barely hurt. You were there too; you heard them say that the smoke didn’t do any real damage.” TK looks down at his shoes, bitterness welling up in him and bleeding into his voice. “‘Lucky’ was the word they used. Wish I felt it.”

A brief silence falls, then his dad shifts, pulling TK’s arm over his shoulders. “Alright, then,” he says wearily. “Let’s go.”

The walk to Carlos’s room is both too short and too long. It feels as though it takes forever to get through the endless corridors, but, by the time they’re standing outside the door, TK hasn’t even begun to prepare himself for what’s waiting for him. His dad had given him the cliffnotes version—burns, a broken arm, a nasty head wound and probable concussion, a shattered kneecap that had needed surgery, and more bruised skin than not—but hearing and seeing are two very different things.

It’s only his dad at his side that gets him to take those final few steps into the room, his hands trembling as he nears Carlos’s side.

He looks… TK wants to pretend that he’s just sleeping, but there’s a slackness to his face that betrays the lie before he can even tell it. Carlos is a light sleeper—not a restless one, but if he were truly sleeping, he would have woken up at this point, roused by so many people being in the room. 

Andrea looks up at their entrance, immediately standing to give up her chair for him. TK goes to protest, but she sends him a stern look and he wilts, accepting the seat with a grateful nod. She rubs his shoulders gently, her gaze so kind and motherly that it almost breaks something in him.

“He’ll be okay,” she murmurs.

TK swallows, squeezing his eyes shut. Tears begin to slip down his cheeks, and he twists away when she reaches to wipe them away. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “This is all my fault.”

The frowns of everyone else in the room are practically audible, and TK burns with shame under the weight of all their gazes.

“What do you mean?” Gabriel asks, his tone hard—though TK knows the anger isn’t directed at him. “You didn’t start the fire; this is the fault of that sick bastard who rigged your house.”

“Not the fire,” TK corrects quietly, opening his eyes but not daring to meet anyone’s gaze. “Carlos. Jumping out of the window was my plan. We didn’t know if or when help would come and I just… I guess I panicked because I couldn’t think of anything else, and I told him to do it. All I wanted was for him to get out safe, and now look where we are. If I’d just gone first, then—”

“Then, you’d be in the bed instead of Carlos, and the rest of us would be in exactly the same position,” Andrea interrupts. “You had no way of knowing what was going to happen, and I know you did the best you could. What matters is that you’re both alive; the rest we can figure out.”

TK shakes his head, wanting to argue, but all the fight has left him, replaced by an overwhelming guilt and sorrow. Andrea pulls him into her side as sobs wrack his body, the physical pain paling next to the open wound of seeing Carlos so still before him.

*

“Are you okay?”

TK sighs, wearily looking up at the sound of the hesitant voice from the bed. “Don’t ask me that, Carlos, please. Not now.”

Carlos purses his lips, but nods, understanding clear in his eyes. He’d woken up a day ago after sleeping for two, and to say he’d been struggling would be an understatement. The total loss of their home and all their possessions had hit him hard, and they’d spent much of that first day he was awake just holding each other, words irrelevant and unnecessary.

Today, though, has been different. The team has been trickling in and out, making attempts at light conversation and, when that’s failed, offering up reassurances and, several times, their homes if TK and Carlos need it.

TK appreciates it, but he’s glad for the quiet in this moment. It’s just the two of them, his dad taking a breather with Carlos’s parents in the cafeteria, and he feels he can finally let some of the exhaustion of the past few days show on his face.

Not all of it—he still has to keep up some sort of façade for Carlos’s sake—but it’s not as though Carlos can’t see through it anyway. They know each other too well for that.

“Hey, um, back there,” Carlos starts nervously, not needing to clarify what he means by ‘back there’, “just before I jumped. I thought… I thought we weren’t going to make it. And I just—I just couldn’t say it. I don’t know why. But it kills me that we could have died and I didn’t tell you that I love you, I—I’m sorry, TK.”

TK frowns, reaching to grasp at Carlos’s hand. “What are you talking about?” he says. “Carlos… I know you love me. You don’t need to say it for it to be true. I promise you, I know.”

“I know you do,” Carlos says. “I still should have said it.”

“Baby, no.” TK leans over and kisses Carlos’s palm, lips lingering for a long moment. “No. Don’t… Don’t think about it, okay? We’re alive, and we have the rest of our lives to say it; can we just enjoy that?”

Tears shine in Carlos’s eyes, but he manages a wobbly smile as he meets TK’s eyes. “We can try,” he allows. He sinks back into the pillows, squeezing TK’s hand as hard as he can. “I love you.”

TK smiles. “There we go,” he says softly. He kisses Carlos’s temple, resting their foreheads together and closing his eyes.

“I love you too.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #tk x carlos #owen strand #andrea reyes #tommy vega #lone star #911ls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #userjillian #userkimmy #tuserpaige #tuserjenny #reyeslonestartag

[ghostbustermelanieking]

i'd like to hear some headcanons for your "georgie can see dead people" au! :0

oh thank you so much!! this is probably going to be a little messy, since i haven't actually started the fic, but!! here is something!! :) (also i am so sorry for all the sixth sense references. the actual fic will undoubtedly be worse.)

1. So the basic premise of this AU is that the end result of Georgie's encounter with the End is that, instead of losing her ability to feel fear, she gains the ability to see the dead. Everything goes the same otherwise: the protest, Alex, the dead woman, Georgie waking up days later at home, the months of strangeness and unfeeling. The difference is that when Georgie wakes up, she can see the dead woman, too. Never too close—only in corners, behind doors, in the window. And never always, but only in the moments that feel crucial. The moments where she's searching for something of herself. Her mother hugs her and she sees the dead woman over her mother's shoulder. 

Georgie sees Alex, too, sometimes. Closer and more head on; she is always looking back. But she never speaks, and neither does the dead woman from the room. It isn't until she begins to see other ghosts that she realizes they can talk, if they want to. If they choose. 

(Six months later is when Georgie figures out how to lock the dead woman out. She stops seeing Alex shortly after, except on occasion. Sometimes she'll see a flash of those familiar eyes in the mirror, over her shoulder, and they always seem to be apologetic. But Alex still never says anything. Georgie gets good at pretending that this doesn't hurt nearly as much as losing her.)

2. Jon is the first one that Georgie almost tells. Almost. They're honest with each other in a way that Georgie usually isn't, when they first meet, and she almost thinks he'd believe her. They talk about ghost stories all the time. 

She mostly thinks about it when she sees Jon's ghosts. It isn't often but she sees them. He'll talk about what little he remembers of his parents, or pull out some old, faded pictures, and she'll see the faces reflected in the kitchen, the bathroom mirror, Jon's bedroom. He never talks about the apparition of a strange teenager that appears, once, when they both wake up sweaty from frantic nightmares and he refuses to explain, and Georgie doesn't press. He doesn't tell her about Mr. Spider and she doesn't tell him about the ghosts. Much as they love each other, they do still have secrets. 

Georgie goes to his grandmother's funeral years later, even though they're barely talking at this point, and almost tells him then. Seeing him stand mostly alone at the grave, looking monumentally alone, and then a flicker of his grandmother behind him—she almost does. But still she doesn't. She's never told anyone before, and she and Jon aren't really in touch, so she just hugs him and tells him she's so sorry, and doesn't meet the eyes of the woman watching behind the fresh grave. 

3. Melanie is another person Georgie almost tells. They still meet through their connections—Ghost Hunt UK, What the Ghost, and Georgie's power is (probably unsurprisingly) very useful for the paranormal podcast business. (All her episodes aren't pulled from real life, from her own experiences—that would be irresponsible, and there's more clout in retelling familiar stories. But sometimes when Georgie runs out of episode ideas, she'll visit a spooky place, write down what she sees, do a deep dive on the history, and fill in the gaps by attributing her sightings to "unnamed" witnesses.) She's met a lot of people in the ghost hunting business, but Melanie stands out, because they hit it off so immediately. Start hanging out outside of work drinks, at parties or pubs or research stints. Melanie starts inviting Georgie to consult on the show, or to collaborate, and Georgie uses what she sees to point Melanie and her team towards real sightings. Why not? Might as well have the horrible power be useful for something. Haley Joel Osment solved his problem by helping people, and this isn't the same at all (and that's a movie, anyways), but it is something. 

So she and Melanie become fast friends, faster than Georgie is used to, and Georgie genuinely thinks about telling her. She trusts her, and she doesn't think Melanie would laugh, or call her a liar. (Melanie's got stories about not being believed, too; it's common in the paranormal business.) She thinks Melanie might be the right person, maybe. Just maybe. 

(She doesn't end up doing it. She's still a coward when it comes to that. But it isn't because she isn't tempted.)

(The idea to tell Melanie comes before she starts seeing Melanie's father. But that fact doesn't help her decision, either. In quiet moments with Melanie, Georgie starts seeing the man in Melanie's framed photos in the shadows, looking at Melanie with sad eyes, calling her little moth. But Melanie can still barely talk about her dad, and the accident, and it feels even more wrong after he starts showing up, to tell her. Georgie worries Melanie might think she's making fun, or making something up to make her feel better, and she doesn't see this going well.

Instead she says, sometimes, I know your dad loved you a lot. Melanie says, Yeah, I know, too. Georgie says, And I bet he misses you, even though it isn't a bet; she knows. But she can't tell Melanie, and that's as far as it can go.) 

4. The most significant time Georgie wants to tell Melanie, but doesn't, is the one she'll end up regretting the most in the end. When Melanie gets out of the hospital, first, and then when she comes back from India; when Georgie is basically the only friend Melanie has left from her old life, and therefore is probably the person Melanie goes to the most. The person Melanie confides in. 

So Georgie is there to see it all. She'll be sitting across from Melanie in a pub, or beside her on the couch; she'll brush Melanie's hand with hers, or their knees will knock together, and Georgie will see flashes of blood, violence. Hear screaming. She'll see haunted faces out of the corner of her eyes: soldiers, doctors. Muzzles of guns. Once, a stained hand gripping Melanie around the leg. 

She'll regret it, later, but Georgie doesn't say anything; she doesn't know what to say. She's never seen anything like this, even with over a decade of seeing ghosts. How is she supposed to explain it? She doesn't really know what it means. Melanie talks about war ghosts, and Georgie listens, and she rationalizes that Melanie will have to be okay. (She was okay, when it was her, and if—if this is something serious, something worse, than… then Georgie will be there. Melanie will have someone who understands.) 

5. One night in February of 2018, Jon shows up back in Georgie's life, looking shell-shocked on her doorstep. He stands in the hall looking mildly terrified, when Georgie opens the door, and behind him stands a dead woman, looking desperate and furious all at once. 

"Georgie," Jon says weakly. "I-I know it's been a while, but…" 

"Jon! Christ, what happened to you? Are you all right?" Georgie says, trying to take in Jon and the dead woman all at once. (She is new—Jon must have had someone else close to him die.) She focuses on Jon, puts a hand on his shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

"I… I'm fine." Jon's hands twist in front of him. "I… didn't know where else to go."

Georgie swallows hard and says, "Are you in trouble?" The dead woman is looking right at her. Georgie keeps looking at Jon. 

"I… yes." Jon chews on his lower lip. "If… I know it's a lot to ask, b-but I… could I… possibly stay here for a little while?"

Georgie swallows hard. She has a dozen questions—what's happened, why he needs somewhere to stay, why he looks like this—he looks like he's been through emotional turmoil, through hell—and worse, why a dead woman has followed him here. But she doesn't know how to ask these questions. And she can't just turn him away. Jon helped her heal during one of the worst periods of her life, even if he doesn't know it. And she can do the same. 

"Yeah," Georgie says, and leans forward to pull Jon into a hug—tentative at first, and then stronger, when Jon latches on like he needs it. "Y-yeah, Jon, of course."

Jon rambles out a frantic thank you, layered in with apologies and copious promises to pay rent, but it becomes harder to listen. Right over Jon's shoulder, the dead woman is staring right at her, her mouth hanging open. She's got long hair and glasses, and she looks exhausted, and it isn't immediately obvious how she has died, which is unusual. And she's looking right at Georgie. She says, suddenly, "Can you—can you see me?"

It isn't the first time a ghost has spoken to her, but it's a rare enough occasion to be shocking. Her throat is thick with surprise, and she can't say anything in front of Jon, so she just sort of imperceptibly nods. Holds the dead woman's gaze for a moment. 

"Fuck," says the dead woman. "Thank—thank god, thank Christ, I…" She pauses and looks at Jon, then back at Georgie, still numbly hugging Jon there in the hall. "My name is Sasha," she says, and Georgie thinks of the scene in The Sixth Sense where the sick little girl under the blanket asks for help. "Can you… can you help me?"

(send me an au and i'll give you 5+ headcanons)

#*pushes my Sasha and Georgie becomes friends agenda* yeah.... (so this is like the concrete plot points from this au lol. i havent decided #on an ending) #wtgfs #tma fic #sorta #tma au #jon & georgie #i wrote this #georgie barker sees dead people

[lovely-angst]

Goodbye, UA.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 2355

genre: angst

summary: your parents decide to take you out of UA, which meant you had to say goodbye to the life you once knew

a/n: there WILL be a part 2! stay tuned! also, i don’t do tagging! sorry! i wanted to combine part 2 in here, but I think having them in two different parts will set the mood

11.18.20

-

Class had gotten out an hour ago, the students roaming away to their dorms or to away to train, but here Bakugou was, standing outside the doors of Class 1-A.

He had seen you busy yourself at your desk until the students all left the class before you stopped Aizawa, wanting to talk to him privately. Bakugou wasn’t sure if this was something important or not, but you hadn’t mentioned anything to him yet, which worried him. 

It might’ve been wrong of him to wait for you outside these doors, trying to catch any words he could, but he just wanted to know what you couldn’t tell him first. 

Peeking through the window, Bakugou saw how your head hung low as you played with the hem of your uniform sleeves, looking dejected. He could see Aizawa’s mouth move, but Bakugou couldn’t make out any words. 

Aizawa placed a hand on your shoulder before you nodded, hand coming up to wipe at your eyes, bowing to thank the teacher before you made your way over towards the door. 

Bakugou quickly jumped away from the door, leaning back against the wall as he heard you open the door, your footsteps stopping as you catch the young man in your path.

“Katsuki? What are you doing here?” you asked as he pushed himself away from the wall to stand in front of you. “I was waiting for you, but I didn’t know you were talking to Aizawa,” he states, the two of you walking together back to the dorms in silence. “What were you guys talking about anyway?” 

When you didn’t reply, Bakugou turned his head to glance over at you, his eyes widening when he sees the tears dripping down your cheeks. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked, alarmed when sobs escaped your lips. “Was it something I said? Fuck, I-”

You shake your head at him in between sniffles. He turns you to face him as the back of your hands are wiping at your seemingly never ending tears. “Katsuki,” you start shakily. 

His heart is beating quickly in his chest as he waits for whatever you’re struggling to get out. If you were crying over it, it must be something big.

“I can’t go to UA anymore.” 

Bakugou’s breath stopped in his throat as he tried to process your words. “Huh?” was all he could reply with as the two of you stood in the quiet hallway of UA, heartbroken. 

“My parents don’t want me being a hero anymore. They’re taking me out of the hero course, out of UA.” 

Glancing up, you could see the pain in Bakugou’s eyes at the thought of you leaving. Wiping the remaining tears on your eyes, you let out a shaky breath before you reach over to grab his hand, snapping him out of his shock.

“They never really wanted me being a hero, but I somehow was able to convince them. I guess they had enough after everything that’s happened,” a heavy sigh escapes your lips as you gaze over at Bakugou. 

Hand intertwined with his, the two of you continue back to the dorms in silence—the news was a little too much for Bakugou to take in.

-

Standing in front of the class, you glanced around nervously as you waited for Aizawa to finish his announcement before you were going to finally break the news to your classmates that you were going to leave UA. 

Unbeknownst to them, they all gave you smiles as they awaited your announcement. But when Aizawa gave you the stage, you gripped the end of your sleeve nervously. 

Words struggled to fall from your lips as your eyes glanced down, suddenly focused on your shoes as your brows knitted together. Your lips pressed into a thin line as you tried to keep your emotions at bay, but you knew you would cry as soon as you spoke. 

Glancing over at Aizawa, he gave you a gentle pat on the shoulder, “Take your time.” 

The smiles your friends and classmates wore soon dissolved as they watched worriedly—it was rare to see such an expression on you.

Bakugou hated seeing you in such a sad state, especially because he knew nothing he could do would help your situation. When your eyes finally lift and they latch onto his, his face softens before you give him a small smile. 

“Um,” you start, eyes flickering from Bakugou’s and the floor beneath you. “Firstly, I want to say thank you to Class 1-A for making my first year at UA the best year of my life,” you say with a small smile as your shoes dig into the floor.

“So much happened, good and bad, but it helped me get a grip of what being a hero might be like,” their smiles found their way back as you talked about some of your favorite memories, about growing together. 

“As much as I’d love to continue this path with you all, I can’t,” your hands freeze as you stare down, eyes glossing over with tears as silence filled the class. “I-I’m leaving UA...”

Before you could continue, a loud wail cut through the silence before your head shoots up to see Mina sobbing in her seat. “Nooo, don’t leave us!” she cried before your tears overwhelm your eyes. 

“I don’t want to leave either,” you say with a hiccup before you begin to cry as well. It didn’t take long before Hagakure and the other girls follow suit, sobs filling the class before they all run up to the front to hug you. 

Thankfully, Aizawa let the class have homeroom hour as a free hour for the class to mingle and talk amongst themselves from your unfortunate news as he busied himself for the time being with a nap in the corner of the room. 

“Why do you have to leave?” Momo asks, wiping her tears with a soft handkerchief, reaching over to dab your eyes as well. 

“My parents don’t want me to continue as a hero. You know, after everything that’s happened, it’s been kind of rough at home, and I guess they reached their limits,” you reply with a shrug, Momo nodding.

“Couldn’t you just transfer to the general course?” Hagakure questions, but you shake your head, “I tried, but they want me out of any hero school. My parents have already enrolled me in a regular high school,” she lets out a sigh of defeat before you all hang your heads low. 

“I can’t imagine how hard it must be for Bakugou! It must break his heart to know you’re leaving!” Mina cries as you all turn your heads toward Bakugou.

Slouched in his chair with his foot raised up to press against the front of his desk as a frown settled itself on his lips. He looked upset. 

You nod at your friends, “Yeah, we haven’t said much to each other after I broke the news to him. I think we’re both trying to avoid it,” you replied quietly. 

Kirishima and the boys make their way over towards Bakugou, nudging him and joking around with him. You were glad he had friends to keep his head high.

“Well, are you guys going to do long distance? I can’t imagine the two of you ever breaking up,” Mina continues, the girls nodding in agreement. 

“Like I said, we haven’t talked about it, so I have no idea. I’d hate to break up, but knowing how much effort and time you have to put into these hero classes, we’ll barely have time for each other. We barely even leave UA. How will we be able to see each other?” a pout settles on your lips at the thought.

You’d hate to have to break up with Bakugou. 

“Hey, Katsuki?” sitting on his bed after everyone had gone off to bed for the night, you watch as he turns around from the mirror to face you, a towel on his damp hair. “Hm?” he grunts out, signaling you to continue. 

“Are we going to do long distance when I leave?” you ask, watching as his expression hardens. “What, did you think we were going to break up or something?” 

He makes his way over to you, laying down in between your legs as he buries his face in your stomach, your hands combing through his fresh hair. “No, of course not,” you say gently, watching the rise and fall of his back. 

“But, you’ll be really busy with hero work and we’ll have no time to see each other. Do you think you can handle not seeing me for who knows how long?” you question, but Bakugou doesn’t move from his spot, silence meeting your ears. 

“I don’t know,” he finally says, turning to rest his cheek on your belly. Your eyes soften, a frown on your lips. “But we can try to make this work.”

“Okay,” you say, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. “I can’t imagine how much I’ll miss you when I’m gone.”

“Why are you talking like you’re going to die?” Bakugou asks, annoyed, glancing up at you as you give him a pout. “I’m basically dying of sadness at the thought of not seeing you daily,” you reply dramatically before he pulls you down by your waist, getting you to lay with him.

“You’re so fucking dramatic.” Your laughter filled the air as you stare into his eyes, breaths mingling together. “You’ll miss it though,” you say with a cheeky smile. Bakugou breaks into a small smile before glancing away, “I guess I’ll miss your dumbass a little.”

-

Standing inside your empty dorm room, you give one last glance around the precious space before turning around to walk out, closing the door behind you, signaling the end of a chapter in your book. 

Letting out a deep breath, you glance up towards Bakugou who was waiting for you with your luggage. “Done getting your feelings out?” he asks, but you give him a half hearted smile, “I guess so.” 

Rolling your suit case, the two of you made your way down towards the main gates of UA, where your parents were and also where classmates were waiting to say their final goodbyes.

Each step you took that brought you closer, you felt the tears threaten to pool in your eyes. You hated this. Hated that you had to leave behind your friends, your life as a UA student and especially that you had to leave Bakugou. 

You wanted to cry. 

Bakugou could sense you trying to keep your emotions at bay as you walked beside him quietly. The luggage rolling against the cement with quiet thuds. 

“There they are!” Iida exclaimed as the class turns to face you, smiles on their faces as they begin to holler. A smile makes its way on your face as you see your class split up on either side of the gate, loudly wishing you farewell. 

Walking through the crowd, some shouted words of encouragement and goodbyes while others gave you hugs and gifts.

“We’ll miss you (Name)!” “Don’t forget us!” “We’ll never forget you!” “We’ll work out hardest as heroes for you!” 

Their words edged on your overflowing emotions as you allowed yourself to let your tears go, your smile growing from all the love of your classmates. Even a few of your Pro Hero teachers were here, like All Might, Aizawa and Midnight.

“Young (Name), you have become a fine hero,” All Might says, hugging you with a large smile. “Just because you no longer attend UA does not mean you have to give up being a hero. Go beyond-” 

“Plus ultra,” you finish off with a smile as All Might gives you one last encouraging hug. “I’ll miss seeing you so often, All Might.” 

After what seemed like forever, you finally manage to put all of your belongings in your parents’ car before you turn around, mentally capturing a picture of all your friends and teachers at the gates of UA. 

“Ready to go, (Name)?” your dad asks, but you turn around, looking for a certain someone in the crowd. “I’ll be finished in a minute, just wait for me in the car,” you state as you jog over towards your favorite person. 

“Everyone, let’s give them two some time alone!” Iida shouts as he begins to drag the class away. Your classmates give their final farewells before Aizawa ushers them back to their dorms, leaving you and Bakugou alone.

Reaching over to grab onto his hands, you look up to smile at him, “I wish we had a day to ourselves,” you say quietly as he stares down at you, eyes flickering across your face, trying to memorize your features.

“I’ll text you every day, even if we can’t call daily,” you continue, squeezing his hands. “Just because we won’t be going to the same school doesn’t mean we have to stay apart. Eventually, we’ll meet again.” 

Bakugou’s brows furrow before he pulls you in for a hug, his face hiding in your neck, “I wish you could just stay,” he confesses as your happy facade finally fades. 

Your hands grip the back of his shirt tightly as you quietly cry into his shoulder, your tears dampening the fabric. “I wish I could just stay too,” you whisper as you pull back, your glossy eyes staring into his equally glossy eyes.

His large hands lift from your waist to cup your cheeks, bringing you in for a soft kiss. Your forehead rests against his as the two of you soak in each other’s presence for the last time before he feels you pull away from him. 

“See you later, Katsuki,” walking towards the car, your hand gently slips from his. Opening the door, you turn back before you give him a wave goodbye before entering the vehicle, closing the door with a thud.

Bakugou watches as the car that held you slowly vanishes from his sight. Pressing his lips together, he stuffs his hands in his pockets before walking back to the dorms alone.

“See you later, (Name).”

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #bakugou imagines #bakugou katsuki scenarios #bakugou katsuki scenario #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou scenario #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou scenarios #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia scenarios #boku no hero academia oc #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia scenarios #my hero academia scenario

[girlmeetsliv3]

Lilies of the Valley I

A/B/O!BTS x Reader

Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower’s shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.

Chapter One: Hatred & Pride

“Lilies are considered a beautiful, popular flower but the orange variations actually symbolize hatred, pride, and disdain.”

Release Date: 05/18/20 @ 7 pm

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 YN stumbled haphazardly into her apartment, as she tried to kick off heels and steer her way into her apartment's small bathroom. In her hand lay a crumpled up business card that scorched her skin, yet she couldn't let go of it. As she reached the bathroom, she flickered the yellow lighting on and stared at herself in the dirty mirror. Mascara and eyeliner were smudged making her resemble a panda, a frown etched between her brows, and colored lips turned downward. It was not her wretched appearance that had her sorrowful, but rather the bite that was visible right where her neck met her shoulder. It looked fresh, harsh red marks that displayed to the world that she was taken. "What a fucking lie."

She took off her makeup and jumped into the shower scrubbing off every trace she could of the alpha. Not wanting his scent permeating on her body any longer, then it would truly prove people's perception of her to be true. A small ding as she was exiting the shower alerted her towards her phone.

           Mark Lee: Sorry about how I acted. I just don't understand, but I don't think we should see each other anymore.

"Great," YN grumbled. There went another one that she'd managed to drive away. It would be a lot easier if she could simply date someone like her - not that it would ever be allowed. Still, there would be less judgment and she wouldn't have to feel like a let down to society or her family every time a holiday passed and she failed to present with a mate. "Fuck society." Though truly it was more like fuck Jeon Jungkook. None of this would've happened if it weren't for the alpha and his hormones. Truly none of this would've happened if his mates kept a tighter grip on the newly presenting alpha, but she couldn't blame the others for his mistake.

           On second thought, fuck them all. Why the fuck are sub-genders a thing anyway? This wasn't the first time said thoughts had filled her head. Presenting as an Omega in a family full of beta's had been difficult, not to mention the events that followed afterward. YN dragged her feet into her bed, thankful for once that she lived in such a small apartment that things were never so far apart. Though her current apartment was about the size of the kitchen in her parent's home, she couldn't complain. Few people rented unmated omegas. She was lucky that her landladies were two female betas with small children. YN doesn’t have anything against alphas but she’s aware enough to know how they perceive her: a means to an end rather than a human being. Or half of one at the very least.

           Her cell phone screen lit up again, but YN was far too tired to check it. Until it stayed on as a plethora of messages appeared. Rolling her eyes, YN grabbed her phone and unlocked it planning to send to hell whoever sent so many messages this late at night.

           Unknown: Please consider it.

           Unknown: I know you blame me for a lot of things and it is my fault, but I’d like to fix things.

           Unknown: or help at the very least.

           Unknown: Please just answer me.

           Unknown: I’m very sorry. You know I am. It was a mistake, I was presenting and couldn’t control myself. Please YN.

           Unknown: You’re my mate.

YN slammed her phone down on her bed with tears in her eyes. She regretted ever going on the date tonight, regretted ever meeting Jungkook, regretted presenting as an Omega. YN regretted being alive. She knew others felt the same way, she'd seen the look in her father's eyes when he had gone to the police station. None of this would've ever happened if she were a beta. YN would be able to get a good education, a good job, a decent place to live. She wouldn't be treated like a third-class citizen because of her sub-gender - she would just be YN. The way she'd been in school before all this happened. The way she spent seventeen years of her life living. Sobs racked throughout her body and she bit into her arm to keep the sound from reaching her neighbors. She didn't want to get into any more trouble tonight.  

           Exhaustion eventually won over and YN slipped into a restless sleep, plagued by the events of her past and the ones that occurred a few hours earlier.

          “So there was nothing you did in high school? No clubs or anything like that?”

YN shook her head, shrugging slightly. "I helped some teachers, dabbled in a couple of things but wasn't like the head cheerleader or class president." Tentatively she reached for her drink, making sure Mark didn't notice her smelling it for anything. It wasn't that he wasn't nice, but one could never be too careful. Mark laughed, "Alright you got me there, but I'll let you know the only reason I became class president is that I promised I'd get us a pool."

           “How did that work out?”

           “Terrible. The school was convinced our stupid asses would drown or something. Can’t say it wasn’t true.”

           YN giggled, taking another bite of her food. Mark was cute and he seemed aware of things, enough to not try too hard. He hadn’t asked to pick her up or asked about exes, he’d agreed to meet at the restaurant and even arrived early. Then again it might also be because they have a friend in between and it was Rosé who’d set them up together. “So YN what school did you go to?” Mark leaned forward resting his face in his hands. The warm lighting in the restaurant cast a nice glow on his features, it made him look more attractive. Or perhaps the alcohol had finally set in.

           “I went to Yeong-gwang Academy.” As soon as YN uttered the name Mark’s eyes widened exponentially. “No way, I’ve heard about that school. Isn’t it like a rich kid central or something? Wait didn’t you go to school with the Kims?!” It was an involuntary reaction the way she shivered whenever she heard that name, but her date must not have noticed. He stood waiting for her confirmation and all it took was a curt nod, for the man to begin rambling about all the rumors he’d heard over the years. It was difficult to keep up with them all, but she did manage to correct a few.

           “Haven’t you guys been ranked number one school in Korea for like thirty years or something?”

           “I think it’s only twenty.”

           “I heard all your sports teams are national champions.”

           “We only really had like five or so.”

           “Don’t you have the largest private collection of flowers in Asia?!”

           “Um, it’s Lilies and I think that’s an exaggeration.”

On and on it went, YN was now beginning to regret opening her mouth. She'd heard of Academy fans before, but it was mainly people who wanted to go there and couldn't or alumni. The way Mark spoke about it made her seem like she was an olympiad or a part of history. The date was drawing to an end, YN couldn't help but feel disappointed but it could have gone worse. Mark could have seen her mark and it would've caused conflict, hearing the boy ramble about her school was the lesser of the two evils.  

           It was when YN lifted her drink to her lips that she sensed it. A hint of musk and the smell of fresh linen, she couldn’t explain how she knew it was him. It was almost instinctual the fear that spread throughout her. As discreetly as she could, YN cast a glance around the room trying to find him almost exhaling with relief when she didn’t. It’s probably a mistake.

           “Hey isn’t that Kim Jungkook right there?”

It was said a little too loudly, just enough that YN knew he'd heard it. It didn't take long for her to feel eyes peering at her, goosebumps rose through her arms. Her bite began to throb and YN could feel her heart skip a beat. Mark's eyes focused on him and eventually crawled up, letting her know the alpha was approaching. Now the scent hit her entirely, shaking her to her core. YN gripped the table to steady herself but found that near impossible when the alpha kept sending his pheromones at her.  

"Does there seem to be a problem here?" His voice had deepened over the years, no longer the voice of a teenager but that of a man.

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to call your name so loudly. Um, I'm Mark Lee. A pleasure to meet you." Mark turned his attention towards YN expecting her to acknowledge Jungkook or greet him as a classmate. YN couldn't. She couldn't look at him. It didn't help that there was a tense atmosphere between the two, the tension was palpable and it seemed Mark had enough.

           “Aren’t you going to greet him, YN?”

           Greet the man responsible for everything wrong in my life, sure. Yn’s eyes trailed upwards from the table to Jungkook’s face until her warm eyes met his golden ones. As YN parted her lips to speak, she felt it: the heat spreading throughout her body. An uncontrollable feeling that raked throughout her body. The fucker was trying to trigger a pseudo-heat. Instantly YN’s grip tightened on the table, her fingertips becoming white as she fought with nature to keep control over herself.

           “Do you two know each other?” It seems Mark was catching on and truly she couldn’t blame him if he misunderstood. She would too if the roles were reversed. Suddenly Jungkook turned to face Mark, holding his hand out to greet him.

           “I’m Kim Jungkook, her mate.”

"What?! No, he isn't. Don't listen to him, Mark." Her outcry had caused quite a few patrons to turn her way, now all paying close attention to what was happening.

"Uh -" Jungkook quickly interceded whatever Mark was going to say. "Did you not notice her mark? Or do you make a habit of seeking mated people?" At this a few people gasped, Mark looked between the two of them confused. YN snapped, "It's a partial bond. It was never completed so it doesn't mean anything." Her words only confused Mark even more. Whispers from surrounding tables began to reach her ears and it only fueled YN's rage more. This was all a big misunderstanding, but Jungkook was thriving off it. Mark and YN's eyes met as she silently pleaded with him to listen to her.

"Hey beta," Jungkook snapped his fingers together, "look at me." YN should've known she'd lost then and there. As a beta, it was impossible to resist the order of alpha, not to mention one that exuded the stench that Jungkook did.

           “You know who I am right?” Mark nodded, eyes wide as if aiming to please. “Then you know don’t you? You know…” When Mark looked back at her, there was sympathy in his eyes. “I’m sorry YN.” was all the beta said before standing up and walking away. YN had so many things to say, so many more explanations, but they all died in her tongue.

           Jungkook tsked, “What an asshole. Could’ve at least paid for the meal.” That was the final strand for YN, she gathered her stuff and threw all the money she had down on the table. Walking fast out of the restaurant trying to avoid the judgemental stares directed towards her, she swore some people hissed at her under their breaths. Once outside YN leaned against the side entrance of the restaurant trying to steady her breath and stop the incoming tears.

"YN. Hey!" Jungkook raced out the front, staring around panicked until his gaze landed on her. YN tried to walk away, but his long legs gave him an advantage and he reached her in a few steps. "Please YN. I'm sorry, I just- I couldn't control myself." YN rolled her eyes, trying to push the alpha aside.  

           “No please YN look.” His hands gripped her forearms and tugged her close to him. “I’ve been trying to find you, we’ve been trying to find you. But you disappeared off the map.”

           “That’s because of you. I left because of you.” YN tried to get him to release her arms, but his hold was too tight. “Wasn’t it enough for you? Isn’t it enough for you? You ruined my life and my reputation Jungkook. The least you could do is leave me alone.” She was begging at this point, trying to make him see reason.

           “I can’t leave you alone, YN. You’re my mate.”

           “You already have mates Jungkook. Fucking six of them! How could you want more?!”

           “It isn’t like that and you know it. You’re all our mates. You're the pack omega, you just don’t see it yet.”

           This wasn’t the first time Jungkook had tried to excuse his behavior by using the pack bond. Yes, it was true all seven of them shared it but that didn’t mean she did too. “Omega’s don’t have the pack bond, Jungkook. Stop trying to lie.” YN couldn’t see what he gained from this.

           “I’m not lying. It’s rare but it happens, please if you just speak to Namjoon you’ll see-”

           “Leave me alone Jungkook.” YN mustered all her strength and managed to finally push him off. The alpha looked shocked at her display of aggression, YN strongly desired to hit him but knew it wouldn’t end well if she triggered his instincts. “I’d rather die alone than be mated to you.” YN could see the spear driven through the boy’s heart because she felt something similar go through hers. YN let out a shaky breath, she leaned over resting on her knees for fear of falling over.

"I get it. I'm sorry, I ruined your date. I embarrassed you in front of all those people and that wasn't right. I'm sorry YN, I truly am. For everything, I've ever done to you. But it doesn't change the truth. You know this isn't something I can lie about: you are my mate. Our mate."

YN groaned and went to walk away, knowing that there wouldn't be an end to Jungkook's madness. As she walked past the shaken alpha, he grasped her hand placing something in it. "If you ever need anything, don't hesitate, please." YN didn't even spare him a look as she walked away. It wasn't until she could no longer smell him that YN broke down, her body shaking as she tried to hold it all in. She was still in a public place and a vulnerable omega might draw unwanted attention. YN took a deep breath and steadied herself. Heading straight to her apartment and refusing to look back.

           A loud abrupt ringing awoke YN from her sleep, she jumped so high she practically touched the ceiling. Grabbing the phone, she saw Rosé’s contact picture pop-up on the screen. It was rare for her to call, especially since it was nearly six a.m.

           “Hey.”

           “YN? Oh my god.” Rosé’s tone was panicked and YN could hear the way she panted. “Someone broke into my apartment while I was sleeping.”

           “What?! Are you alright?!” YN jumped out of bed and raced to put on pants and hoodie, before grabbing her keys and wallet. “Where are you?”

           “I’m at the police station. I couldn’t see very clearly, but they’re looking at security cam footage from around the area to figure out who it is.”

           “I’m on my way. Did you call Lucas?” Lucas was Rosé’s foster sibling, his husband worked in the police and was certain to make the whole process smoother.

           Rosé hesitated, “He isn't answering. Please come, I’m here alone and I-”

           “It’s alright I’ll be there soon I promise.” YN had managed to wave down a cab and told him to drive as quickly as he could.

The sight of her best friend in tears triggered something innate in YN. She pulled Rosé into a hug and refused to let her go, terrified at the thought of what could have happened to her friend. "It's alright, I'm here." Rosé dug her head into YN's neck using her scent to calm her nerves and trying to muffle her cries. Already she could feel the sympathetic stares of some of the officers. Out of the corner of her eye, YN saw someone approaching his bloodshot eyes, and the tall way in which he stood made it seem like he owned the place.

"I told you to call your mate, not your girlfriend." He remarked voice dull yet mocking. Rosé stepped away from YN turning towards him, "I don't have a mate and my brother isn't answering." Her tone was meek and eyes were downcast, YN knew she wasn't a confrontational person and this event likely further caused her to become more introverted. The cop rolled his eyes, "Where is your mate then?" He turned his attention towards YN, now she could see the name inscribed on his uniform: Officer Hwang. "I don't have one." Her tone was too blunt, YN knew she could see the way his eyebrows raised at it.

           “Don’t lie to me, I can see your mark.”

           “I don’t have a mate.”

Annoyance was now visible in Hwang's tone before his eyes widened. "Ah, now I get it." The officer turned back towards one of his colleagues and called out, "Bo, it seems we have a cat house on our hands." Rosé's eyes widened and YN spoke quickly, words tumbling out of her mouth. "No. You're misunderstanding." Bo had already stood up from his desk and was making his way towards them.  

           “Ladies if you could please follow me.”

The two of them were talking over each other trying to explain the situation, but the officers had made up their minds about what was occurring. YN cast a glance around the room trying to find anyone who could help them, but everyone kept their eyes downward. They'd been titled as prostitutes and it would be difficult to change people's minds. Officer Bo guided them, pushed would've been a better term, towards the basement where the holding cells were.

           “Please sir, you’ve misunderstood.”

           Officer Hwang shrugged, a cruel smirk on his face. “Call your alpha then and everything will be solved.” YN resigned herself as they were dragged downstairs and locked up.

Rosé and YN were separated in different cells while a guard stood watching. Tears streamed endlessly down her best friend's face, whilst YN told herself that hers were tears of frustration rather than humiliation at everything that had occurred tonight. Eventually, as they hit the two-hour mark the guard spoke up, "I'd call your mates if I were you. The boarding house bus swing's by at nine." Both omegas stilled in fear at his words. YN turned towards Rosé, "Ro can't you try your brother?" She was pleading with her friend, but Rosé shook her head. "He won't come." There was something she wasn't telling her, but YN figured now was not the moment to press it.

           “Don’t you know someone who can help YN? What about Mark?”

Mark would be no help, considering everything that went down at the date it would be a further embarrassment to ask him to come to pick her up at the station. If he even answered that is. Unless? No, there was no way. Her pride wouldn’t be able to take it.

            "Thirty minutes, girls."

It seemed as if fate was pushing her into a corner. YN had heard about what kind of things occurred to Omega's who were taken to the boarding house, it was not a nice place. It certainly didn't provide the comfort or protection that was promised to unmated troubled omegas. Hesitantly YN cleared her throat, "Can I please make a call?"

~ Please lmk if you would like to be added to the tag list. Thank you

#yandere bts #yandere bts ot7 #yandere bts x reader #yandere kim namjoon x reader #yandere kim namjoon #yandere kim seokjin x reader #yandere kim seokjin #yandere Min Yoongi x reader #yandere min yoongi #yandere jung hoseok x reader #yandere jung hoseok #yandere park jimin x reader #yandere park jimin #yandere kim taehyung x reader #yandere kim taehyung #yandere jeon jungkook x reader #yandere jeon jungkook #bts au #bts fanfic #yandere kpop #abo bts #abo au #bangtanarmynet #ykn #lilies of the valley #lilies of the valley I #lov I #lov #girlmeetsliv3

[photiniainsummer]

Something Worth Celebrating

Rating: General Audiences (basically GenFic)

Summary: Dark admits he sort of, kind of has a birthday. And then he sort of, kind of asks you to throw him a party.

I know. Pinch me, I must be dreaming.

(Basically a purely indulgent fic where Dark gets to be happy for 0.2 seconds. Yes, it's late, please forgive me, Mr. Darkiplier sir.)

(second person POV, gender neutral reader)

Word Count: 4906

Author’s Note: No warnings. Honestly just tooth-rotting tenderness. This is a super-late birthday 'present' for our favorite spooky ego that I just couldn't get out of my head. Also posted to AO3!

The thought strikes you in the midst of your weekly scan of Mark’s content. While Dark makes sure to check his uploads and social media presence moment-to-moment, you often join his weekly wrap-up review sessions as a second, fresh set of eyes. It’s usually a silent and uneventful affair, with Dark sitting at his desk and you to one side of it, both focused on the week’s batch of content as it projects on the opposite wall. Hooking up the projector was easier than hunching over Dark’s laptop, the two of you bunched together around the screen, and it usually meant you could catch and examine any irregularities with greater accuracy. Not that there had been any for months. Mark’s content has become suspiciously unsuspicious, with no odd shot changes in the middle of playthroughs, no sideways comments in food reviews… and so your mind has started wandering during your viewings.

It’s not that his content is boring. But it’s hard to enjoy Mark’s lighthearted commentary, really, knowing the man for what he is: a manipulative, body-snatching, undead creature bent on conquering the hearts and minds of the world. That kind of imposing terror makes it hard to kick back and enjoy him goofing through a new horror game.

And, yet, despite that same terror, it’s difficult to stay fully focused on the task at hand. Maybe it’s the lack of weirdness lulling you into being unobservant - maybe that’s Mark’s goal. Regardless, he makes a jokey comment, surprised by a new onslaught of enemies so soon after receiving a new weapon - “What, is it my birthday?” - and though he proceeds to casually mow down a fresh flood of zombies, your mind is nowhere near his running monologue. No, you’re off on a tangent of wonderings - When exactly is his birthday, anyway? Is it soon? Do the egos share his, or do they have their own, if they know it? When would they celebrate it, anyway? Did Mark build in birthdays for them when he summoned them up, or was it whatever day they were formed from some strange, shadowy process you still don’t know the specifics of? It’s a strange and vaguely sad thing to ponder, your mouth turning down at the corners as you roll it around in your mind. To your side, Dark sighs softly, reaching out to pause the current video. Mark’s face freezes in an unflattering expression, and you turn to look at the entity.

“What, think of something?”

“No,” he demurs, scrubbing the video back. “But you are distracted. What do you last remember?” He doesn’t sound annoyed, which is a little surprising. Where a few months ago he would have bitten off a sharp comment about your wandering attention, he just gives you a mild look when you don’t immediately respond, hands hovering at his computer. It speaks to how routine this has become for you both, how each of you has grown accustomed to the other - the ringing of his aura barely registers for you now, although you were certain when you arrived that investing in a lifetime supply of ibuprofen was a basic requirement for working in close proximity to Dark for any extended period of time.

That’s when the thought strikes you - you meandering thoughts crystallizing around his presence, centering on him. You have to wonder how much of your thought process Dark actually heard, if your idle thoughts are loud enough for him to pick up. But seeing as he’s not making any attempt to immediately answer, nor chide you for thinking about such unimportant things, the thought, as a question, easily tumbles out between you.

“Do you have a birthday?”

He immediately furrows his brow, blinking in surprise. “What?”

“I said, do you have a birthday?” you repeat, committing to this line of questioning. You go so far as to turn slightly in your chair to look at him better, attention fully directed at him. Dark sighs and turns back to the computer, picking a spot in the video a couple of minutes ago, certainly farther back than necessary.

“I heard what you said,” he clarifies. “I am attempting to understand what could have possibly brought that up.”

“He said something about his birthday. It just got me thinking, that’s all.” Dark pauses, squinting his eyes ever so slightly at the screen. His cursor hovers over the playback bar, obviously considering his next move. You pause with him, then a smile tugs at your mouth. “You missed that, didn’t you.”

“I did not. It was merely an inane comment, so I did not take note of it.” He’s a little too indignant, too quick with that response, and it makes you laugh. He shoots you a patented glare, although it carries very little true malice. “When did he say that.”

“A couple minutes forward, it’s right after he gets that new gun.” Dark hums in response, clearly still miffed at having been successfully teased, but in a good-natured sort of way. You watch him scrub for the right spot, lulling back into a comfortable silence for a few moments before you remember what brought all this up and press on. “So, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Don’t be obtuse, come on. Do you have a birthday?”

“They had birthdays,” he remarks. You recall them, or, at least, a picture of them, the only one you’ve seen that isn’t a staged portrait. You like it better than the stiff, properly posed photographs Dark hesitantly showed you once, when he had finally explained his origins to you. In the one you preferred to remember, a well-dressed woman and man hug each other close as they smile warmly into the camera. It’s some holiday, or just an excuse to get together - there are garlands blurred in the background - and the woman is holding a fancy-looking drink in the hand that isn’t wrapped around behind her brother, tugging him into frame. He looks a bit put-upon, smiling almost embarrassedly as if the woman has cajoled him in front of the cameraperson into taking a picture with her. But his expression, for all it implies, is still warm. His body curls close to his sister, his hold on her obviously affectionate. The woman is beaming like she’s won, squeezing her brother close as her cheeks apple, her painted lips curled in such pride. Her eyes dance, catching the light of the camera’s flash. They look comfortable, happy, beautiful. Full of life. The woman’s smile had pulled one out of you, when you saw it.

Dark’s explanation of how he had come to be makes the memory all the sadder, the melancholia curling around your throat even as you remember it now.

“I, on the other hand, was not born,” he explains, and for a moment you begin to regret bringing it up. But the shadow-bathed man doesn’t seem bothered, his tone matter-of-fact, simple. You know it pains him still, you saw the look on his face as he described how he had come to be, how his aura had raged around him like he was going to pull apart. How their faces had appeared in agonized red and blue flashes behind him - now that you knew what you were looking for, you could see them as themselves, not just as Dark.

Which makes the fact he can say something that directly referential without threatening to rip through existence sort of comforting. Is he just comfortable with you, now, knowing that you know? Whatever it is, you decide it’s a good thing, and settle back in your chair. “Well, sure, not as such, but… do you celebrate theirs?” you ask, as gently as you can.

“I do not.” Dark finds the proper place in the video, advancing to it.

“So you don’t celebrate you… coming into being, on any particular day?”

“I do not.” You squint slightly.

“You don’t,” you repeat. Dark sighs once more, bringing a hand to his brow in the way he does when Wilford is being particularly taxing.

“No. I do not. But the… fans. Do.” It’s an answer given through gritted teeth - the man finds the celebration of him and his many appearances in Mark’s work frustrating, to put it simply. Of course, he’s completely committed to his role as the villain the actor dreamed of, and won’t lie and say he doesn’t find it utterly amusing how Mark’s own fans seem to like him more than the actor himself. But all that is tinged with the truth of his conscription into this role, the indignity of being painted as the wicked mirror image of the man who took everything from him. It is particularly insulting, particularly painful. So to have some false version of him celebrated and adored, is…

Well, to use his words: Disgusting.

You would go for complicated, instead. It does feels strange to have them celebrate a fictionalized version of the entity next to you, given the reality of the situation, but it’s not like you can fault them for what they don’t know. They’re caught up in Mark’s game - it isn’t their fault. Still, you aren’t really surprised they found a whole day to put aside for the man.

“What day did they pick?”

“Hm?” Dark seems caught up in some internal brooding, set off by the memories of the fanart he’s seen. You prod again.

“What day is it? That they made your ‘birthday’?”

He pauses a moment, considering. You can tell he knows, he’s just debating whether or not to tell you. Whether or not this will have unintended consequences. “June 19th. It was the first time Mark posted something… strange enough to be counted as my first ‘appearance.’ So it is my birthday, by their reckoning.” He pauses again. “I suppose it is as good a day as any. Although I do not understand it - why would someone want to celebrate my existence?”

His tone takes this bitter, harsh edge, and you instinctively want to cringe against it. But you also know how Dark hates you trying to be delicate with him. It’s better to be honest, to know his reactions are not for you, but for his situation. For Mark. So you suppress the desire to turn away from it, instead reaching across the bit of desk between you to touch his arm. He doesn’t react, apart from flicking his eyes to rest on your hand. Touching him like this, yours fades to take on the same black-and-white cast as his own.

“For what it’s worth, I’d want to celebrate it. I’m glad you’re here.” You squeeze him very gently, as if trying to impress that more fully into his mind. “And… they don’t really know you, but, I mean. I think they’d like you even more, want to celebrate you more, if they did.”

Dark is silent, gaze falling to a whorl of wood in his polished desk as he considers your words. He doesn’t immediately reply and you take your hand away, not wanting to be overly touchy-feely about the whole thing. Or, at least, you don’t want to be if that’s not what Dark wants. You’d be the first to console him, if you could, but it’s hard to get a read on what might help the man most. He lives in his head, unaccustomed to sharing much with the other egos, let alone someone who hasn’t directly been through what they have. Your position on the outside imposes a distance that even having worked so closely with him for so long hasn’t yet bridged. Still, you leave that door open for him whenever you gracefully can, whenever it doesn’t feel like you’re opening it to force him through.

You try show him he can walk through whenever he likes. If he likes.

The man shifts slightly, reaching out to adjust a small pile of papers. He puts them to rights, even though they’re already perfectly in line with each other. When he finally speaks, his voice is almost covered by its own deep echo.

“If I am honest, I meant more… why would they celebrate the man they see, the ‘Darkiplier’ in his works? He is not a good man, by any means. He tells the truth, Mark’s confidence in himself sees to that. But they do not know it. He seems to seek to trap the audience through lies, manipulation… I simply do not understand the appeal.” You feel a little caught out, wondering if you jumped a bit too eagerly on his statement as a chance to comfort him. “However…”

He stops, realizing he’s run out of papers to arrange, things to fidget with. Folding his colorless hands in front of him, he finally and intentionally turns to look your way. It’s a slow, steady motion, heavy with purpose. When you meet his intensely contrasted eyes, they fall gently on you. His expression is open, almost bare. Devoid of any bitterness, frustration - his usual armor.

“...it is incredibly kind of you to say that. About me. I. I sincerely appreciate it.”

The hesitancy in his voice, yet how honestly he continues on, intent on telling you this… It’s enough to break your heart. You give him a tender smile.

“You’re not exactly that man in those videos, Dark. Not the way he has you play it, know you well enough to tell that… But even if you were, you have reason enough for it, I’d wager.”

That gets you a wry smile from the man. “Enough reason to pull ourselves back from the dead?”

You laugh, softly. “Yeah, something like that.” At your mirth, the lines of his body begin to relax, and he eases back into his seat somewhat. It’s a rare sight, Dark letting himself relax, be still for a moment. Even his aura, ever-roiling, merely seems to ebb and flow around him in gentle pulses. His mouth stays gently turned up as he looks at nothing in particular, gaze easy on some middle distance. You can tell he’s thinking, even at minor peace like this, but has no real intention to speak again. Sensing the Big Heart-To-Heart Moment™ has passed, you sigh and look back over your sparse notes. “Should we get back to it, though? I totally derailed us.”

Dark pauses a bit longer in the moment before he idly waves a hand and reaches out to close the lid of his computer. “There is nothing interesting this week, really. I think we can call it there, unless you are especially invested in head-exploding physics.” You pull a face.

“Not particularly. I can finish going over it later, anyway. Just in case.” You stretch and twist in your chair with a sigh. “Think I’ll make some coffee - can I get you a cup?”

“Are you going to use the cafetiere?”

“No, I thought the Mr. Coffee would be better. Really gets it nice and watery, just like you like.” Dark scrunches up his nose in the most totally undignified way, and god that makes you belly-laugh, bending slightly over the desk to support yourself. It breaks him, getting a real smile to curl over his face. He can be such a goofball, when he wants to be. “Of course I was gonna use the cafetiere. Who do you take me for?”

“I have to check, I have had many a disappointing cup after agreeing too eagerly. But yes, I will take one, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“None at all,” you hum, coming down from your laughing fit. You make your way out of his office but before you can turn the corner, Dark calls your name, stopping you in the doorway. You look back to him, and he seems… at ease. His hands are folded across his middle, he’s resting back in his desk chair. The ghost of a smile is still on his face. You try to bottle that moment, preserve it mentally. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. Again. And…” He hesitates for a beat, making some decision. “If you or the others would like to do something. On the day. My… sort-of birthday… I would not be opposed.”

You force your jaw to stay in place and not hit the floor. Wilford will go ballistic. You don’t know if the mustachioed ego will be able to handle the thought of throwing Dark a real birthday party - he might just explode in a haze of confetti and glitter stars. Blinking, you right yourself, finding your head nodding before you even know what it’s doing.

“I. Y-Yeah! Sure, we. We could definitely do that. Do… something.” Dark just smiles a little more fully, exhaling a laugh. “I’ll. I’ll talk to them about it.”

Holy shit.

“Wonderful. It will be nice to have a reason to have a proper party. Something to celebrate. Don’t you think?” You’re nodding again, agreeing wholeheartedly, but dazedly, too. You don’t realize you’re just standing there sort of staring until Dark tilts his head thoughtfully to one side. “Is… coffee still happening?”

“Huh?” You remember. “Oh. Oh! Shi- I mean, shoot. I mean. Yes. Yeah. I. Coffee, yes. I’m… gonna do that.”

As you beat a hasty and red-faced retreat to the kitchen, bursting with ideas, you can just make out the man giving the faintest, echoing chuckle.

---

You don’t think you’ve ever felt such pure excitement in the Manor before. The air is practically buzzing with pure, unbridled energy as you approach Dark’s office door. Downstairs, you can hear the egos making final preparations underneath Wilford’s speaking in an overly dramatic tone, giving some kind of grand speech. Likely a rallying of the troops into being on their best behavior for their de facto leader. You can’t help a smile and a shake of your head - maybe he’d take his own advice tonight.

Either way, everything is ready, so you rap on the birthday boy’s outer office door. He’d graciously locked himself away after retrieving his morning coffee so you would all have the space to prepare. Of course, he hadn’t escaped early-morning birthday wishes from you and the Host, nor a fresh-cut bouquet of flowers you two had collected for him. You’d even carried them up to his office for him, just so he wouldn’t have to touch them himself and risk draining their color. The memory of how sort of bashful he’d looked, the you really shouldn’t have energy that had rolled off him as he directed you to set them on his desk - it makes you grin in anticipation for this evening as he calls for you to enter, now.

He’s sitting by the fireplace, apparently killing time with a book which he looks up from as you enter. An inquiring look pulls his brow. “All prepared?”

“Oh yes. Your party awaits you, sir.” Dark huffs a laugh and rises, setting his book aside. He’s dressed a bit differently, still in slacks and a tie but with the addition of a waistcoat closely fit over his dress shirt, which is slightly rolled up over his forearms. Then he begins to fix them, going for his jacket, and you have to interject. “Are you really going to wear a full suit to your party?”

Dark stops, looking confused. And a little concerned. “I. Was intending to, yes.”

Oops. “I mean, you always wear a suit,” you chide as gently as you can. “They look nice, but the whole point is celebrating, relaxing a little? Besides, you look nice just like that.” Dark pauses, casting a look over himself. He absently adjusts his waistcoat, and you notice a thin chain connected to one of the buttons loops into one pocket. Has he always had a pocket watch?

“You are certain it is not too… casual.” He almost sounds worried, the poor thing. You give him a reassuring smile as you approach, picking up his jacket and folding it with care before hanging it over your arm.

“I’ll bring it down, but I think you’ll be more comfortable like that. Though you aren’t totally dressed, yet.” The man gives you an utterly baffled look, and you grin in response, bringing out a brightly colored party hat. His look sours immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No. I am already being made to go down undressed, I will not go with bells on.”

Sometimes you forget he’s just a grumpy grandpa. You pull out the big guns. “Well… we’re all wearing them,” you hum, your own firmly in place. “Besides, Wilford insisted. And he’s the Decoration Czar. Self-proclaimed, but he rules with an iron fist.” Dark makes a valiant effort to hold onto his resolve, but it weakens in the face of you invoking the mustachioed man. With a soft, amorphous grumble, he pulls the elastic band of the hat under his chin.

Now that you understand a little more about how Dark and Wilford had come to be, their bond makes a lot more sense, even for all Dark’s frustrated looks shot the more light-hearted man’s way in the midst of meetings. Even before you knew the depth of their bond, Dark had always seemed surprisingly willing to go along with Wilford’s more doable requests, less inclined to irritatedly snip at him for his foolishness. As Dark adjusts his party hat in a nearby mirror (making sure his well-coiffed hair isn’t too disturbed by his headwear), you’re glad that, although Wilford may not fully be aware of it, the two of them have each other.

He drops his hands with a sigh. “I look ridiculous.” He’s positioned the cone-shaped hat directly pointing up in the middle of his head, and. Well. It looks way too proper, but very Dark all at once. You chuckle, coming close to help.

“You should see the den. It’s a wreck,” you tease, reaching for his hat, giving the man enough time to wave you off. But he doesn’t, just watching you in the mirror as you adjust it (careful of his curls) to a more jaunty angle. His aura has already absorbed the color from it, but it looks party-appropriate. More importantly, Dark seems a bit more at ease as he gets used to how it looks. You wonder if he’s ever worn a party hat in his life. “There, much better.”

“Hm. Then I suppose I am ready.”

“As you’ll ever be. C’mon, they’re all waiting.” When he turns from the mirror, you playfully offer him your arm. You think you’ll get an eyeroll, a dismissive but amused huff at best. You aren’t anticipating him looping his arm in yours and giving you this little smile that warms his eyes and has you pulling up short. He chuckles somewhat at your reaction, your lack of movement.

“I thought I was being escorted.”

“Uh. You. You are, oh, you definitely are, hold on to your socks, you’re about to experience the best escorting of your life.” Dark’s free hand comes up to help suppress the grin that threatens to split his face as you lead him from the office and down to the almost overwhelmingly decorated den. While the room is comfortably illuminated by a variety of the Manor’s most colorful lamps, the light is somewhat low and catches on the sparkling garlands heavily draped on the walls. Matching balloons bob at varying intervals and a rousing cheer goes up as you and Dark enter, a flood of grins turning your way. Music cuts on - something upbeat and jazzy - and the flock of egos quickly descends on the object of celebration, Wilford leading the charge and pressing a drink into the man’s hand after a massive bear hug. You release Dark’s arm to let the crowd of other egos at him, covering him in birthday wishes and affectionate pats on the back (their boldness inspired by Wilford, no doubt), before eagerly showing off all their preparations.

While Yancy explains the variety of possible games he’s worked up, getting a horribly wry grin out of the shadowy man at his creation of ‘pin the cravat on the Actor,’ you step back a bit to make sure Dark’s suit jacket is safely out of the way of the night’s oncoming revelry. Clearly, he’s already forgotten it, much to your pleasure. The bar is lined up with a few drink options, pre-made cocktails and bottles of wine opened to breathe, a number of elegantly arranged finger foods courtesy of resident chef Google Alpha. Carefully, you tuck Dark’s jacket under the bar in an empty shelf and before scooping up a drink of your own and tossing yourself back into the fray.

It goes a lot more smoothly than you had anticipated - everyone quickly falls into comfortable conversation, dipping into the snacks and games when it lulls. Wilford manages to keep his pants on despite threatening to provide a different kind of ‘entertainment’ at one point (and in spite of encouraging whistles from Bing and the Jims, who are quick to shove a camera in Wil’s direction). Further, Dark survives having ‘Happy Birthday’ sung to him, even blowing out the single candle in the middle of the complicated-looking tiramisu Alpha crafted.

It’s a rousing success, by all measures.

By the time you finally get a chance to sidle back up to Dark, the easy hum of the party has kicked up to a bit more of an excitable buzz as the jazz records have turned more and more swinging. Yandere and Illinois clearly know what they’re doing, beating a quick step around the open dance floor and grinning like bandits as Yancy does his best to help poor Eric get over the hurdle of not staring at your feet when you dance. The Manor feels more full than it usually does, with all of you crowded in the one room together, and you can see the warm, pure energy of it all is having a similar effect on Dark as it is on you - you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so much, small as they are.

Another thought hits you, even better than the one that prompted this whole affair. Grinning, you quickly gesture over the nearest Google. With the music like it is, it’s hard to speak over the ruckus, but you mime taking a picture and Green gets the idea, his glasses getting a particular sheen to them so you know he’s flipping through his interface. Once he gives you a thumbs up, you gently tug Dark down by the arm and gesture in Green’s direction. “Say ‘cheese,’” you prompt, and the shadowy man pulls a face.

“I don’t think-”

“Oh, just one, Dark, c’mon,” you poke. “He’s set up and everything.” With a sort of resigned huff, the man twists and gets his free arm around you, hand resting carefully on your back as you get yours around him, bringing him in closer.

Then, almost in your ear, you hear his very dour voice say, “Cheese...” and it breaks you. You’re busting out laughing, forcing yourself not to double over or spill your drink, and over the music and your own laughter, you can hear Dark chuckling, the subsequent snap of Green’s camera feature. The latter catches the most attention, the gathered egos coming running as soon as they realize pictures are happening.

Suddenly, everyone wants in, smushing in as close as they can get to you and Dark, bickering when elbows ‘accidentally’ find soft sides and someone worms in front of someone else, Green taking pictures all the while of the ensuing chaos. Dark’s aura is starting to rouse from its relatively peaceful state when you decide it’s gone on long enough. You quickly clap and break up the worst of the infighting, getting folks arranged as best you can. By the time you finish and most everyone is settled, Dark is wearing a very betrayed look and Wilford’s heavy arm, which is hugging him quite close to his side. With a playful shrug, you pick your way back to your spot.

“I thought you said one,” he grumps softly even as you both get your arms situated comfortably around the other.

“You believed me?” His eyes get a bit wide - you trick Dark? You trick him into photograph like the child? - but you turn away with a triumphant smile. “Green, set your glasses on the bar, get in!”

The android quickly obliges, setting the timer and sliding in among his copies as he counts you down. “Okay,” you call, “everyone say ‘Darkling!’”

The cacophony of laughter and broken-up attempts at the word is something you’ll never forget.

---

Google sends you the photos the next morning, as the Manor collectively attempts to nurse minor to severe hangovers. Flipping through and marking the best ones to print and frame, you get to see the first one of the two of you.

In it, you’re hugging each other close, smiling warmly into the camera. There are garlands blurred in the background and you’re holding a fancy drink, tugging Dark into frame. That slightly embarrassed tinge is gone from his smile, but he still looks cajoled, still smiles as affectionately as he ever has. There’s no doubt he’s changed - the photo warps to try to capture his existence, red and blue fragments breaking up the image - but his expression is still warm. And you look so pleased with yourself, so amused, eyes dancing with success and joy.

Full of life.

It pulls a smile out of you.

#markiplier fanfiction #markiplier egos #darkiplier #ego fanfiction #happy birthday mister man light of my life #sorry it is late i was a pile of mental goop after exams #mad market pliers ramblings #fanfiction

[wingsofhcpe]

whumptober day 1- barbed wire

fandom: shadow & bone

pairing: fivan [ivan x fedyor kaminsky]

rating: T+

additional warnings: blood & injury

you can also read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34208404/chapters/85114393

[tagging @camilleisback upon request <3]

It’s days before Ivan finally finds Fedyor.

The druskelle, clever bastards that they are, have elected to hide near the borders with Fjerda and wait for reinforcements rather than make a run for it. There’s an abandoned warehouse that must have once been a butcher’s store near a withering Ravkan village; it’s well-camouflaged between the trees, and the vegetation and snowdrifts muffle the sounds of screaming that echo from inside as the witch-hunters torment their prisoners night and day. The location would have been impossible to hide, had it not been for the honed senses of a Heartrender being able to detect the distressed heartbeats from miles away, as well as an experienced Squaller sensing the slightest vibrations in the air that are commonly caused by loud noises such as screams.

Seven Grisha had been taken captive during the druskelle raid at their camp; when Ivan barrels into the warehouse, druskelle dropping left and right with nothing but a flicker of his wrists, he finds two survivors and five rotting corpses. For a moment, he fears the worst- but as his senses clear and the adrenaline of battle fades, he realises one of the two remaining heartbeats echoing in the dark, murky space, belongs to Fedyor. Ivan’s head snaps like a hound catching the scent of blood, and it is mere seconds before his eyes adjust to the distorted light coming from the busted door, and he finally makes out a shape at the far end of the warehouse. Before he can even think about it, he’s running.

Fedyor’s body is suspended by the wrists from a meat hook attached to the ceiling; it’s bad enough to see his lover limp and unmoving like a corpse, but then Ivan takes a closer look and realises with gut-wrenching horror that Fedyor’s hands aren’t bound with rope but with thick coils of barbed wire. The jagged points have dug deep within the skin, leaving sickening gouges across Fedyor’s wrists and forearms. There’s blood everywhere, having dripped down to his elbows, shoulders and even his hair. It has created a small puddle on the rotting floorboards, and Ivan’s boots squelch as he steps on it, trying to get as close to Fedyor as possible. The latter is nearly unconscious, but he makes a low, keening sound when Ivan attempts, in vain, to undo his bindings. It’s no use; the barbs are embedded deep into the flesh, and trying to uncoil them now will only cause more damage, more bleeding, more pain. They have to be cut away, but Ivan isn’t sure whether any of his Grisha is carrying a blade sharp and slender enough for the job. Either way, his first concern should be getting Fedyor down from where he’s still hanging from; this way, he’ll be able to get a better look.

It’s slow work, painstaking for both parties. Fedyor stirs in and out of consciousness as Ivan works, whimpering and begging for mercy. Ivan realises with a pang of unrestrained fury what a devilishly clever idea it had been to bind a Grisha’s hands in such a manner- Fedyor’s hands are close enough, he could twist them if he tried, he could use his powers to do away with his captors. But the barbed edges would shred his skin further if he did, would cause him to suffer and bleed even more. The druskelle had evidently known that; they had risked their own lives for the sake of toying with their prisoners in such a sadistic, inhuman manner.

Fedyor’s weak, pained cry jolts Ivan out of his fury-addled thoughts, and he realises belatedly that he has pulled too roughly at the wires; fresh blood is trickling from somewhere, and Ivan swears colourfully under his breath.

“I’m sorry, moye serdtse, I’m sorry,” he whispers, hoping Fedyor can hear him, hoping he knows Ivan doesn’t want to hurt him, he just has to get him down for his own good “I’m almost done. Just stay strong for me, Fedya.”

Finally, he manages to pry the hook loose from the wire; Fedyor’s body drops lifelessly, but Ivan is there to catch him and gently lower him to the floor, until Fedyor is lying against his chest. Ivan holds him gently, cradling him against his own body and whispering apologies and reassurances. It’s only then that Fedyor’s eyes open just slightly, brown irises glazed with pain and pupils dilated. His cracked, bloodied lips move, and Ivan has to strain to hear him.

“You found me.” The injured man whispers, and Ivan nods seriously.

“Of course I did, my love. I’m here now. You’re safe.” He doesn’t mention how he’s been too late; how he’s allowed the druskelle to torture Fedyor for four long, endless days. How they have lost five of their own, because Ivan had been too incompetent to find them fast enough.

Yet Fedyor’s mouth twitches into a small, relieved smile. “I knew you would… you always… find me…”

“Shh…” Ivan lays a hand on Fedyor’s cheek, flushed with fever. “Don’t talk now.”

They stay still for a little while; Fedyor’s ragged breathing echoing in sync with Ivan’s relieved sighs as he holds his beloved close, peppering gentle, loving kisses across his bloodied cheeks and brow. Eventually, Ivan carefully places a hand over Fedyor’s still bound wrists.

“I need to take these off.” He says softly, and catches the glint of fear in Fedyor’s delirious gaze. “I cannot lie to you, Fedya, it will hurt. But it will only be for a little while. It’ll feel much better after.”

Fedyor whimpers softly. “…so much. They hurt so much, Vanya. My hands… it feels like they’re on fire…”

“I know, I know.” Ivan voice cracks with despair; seeing Fedyor suffer like this, it’s too much to bear. “I will make it better, I promise. Just… Just trust me, dearest.”

Fedyor’s eyes close, but he nods tiredly; even while in so much pain, he must know there’s no other solution. Ivan takes his kefta off, bundles it up into a makeshift pillow and lays Fedyor down on it as carefully as he can. Then he calls out to one of his Grisha, requesting the sharpest and thinnest blade that can be found in their equipment or the druskelle’s. While rummaging, he takes the opportunity to hastily check on the other survivor, a younger Inferni woman- she’s alive and in slightly better condition than Fedyor, although her hands have been bound in a similar manner. By using her powers to heat them up, however, she has made the wires pliant and thus easier to remove. Clever, Ivan thinks to himself. He would have asked her to do the same for Fedyor’s bonds, but she looks so pale, and she can’t even sit up without feeling faint. No, he can’t run her any more ragged. The dagger will have to do.

Finally, Ivan finds a fine, razor-sharp blade within one of the druskelle’s coats. It’s possibly used for gutting fish, and is less than clean, but it’s his only choice, and anyway, Fedyor’s probably already suffering from an infection judging by the rust that covers the wires. Dried fish gore won’t make a big difference at this point.

“Close your eyes and count to fifty, Fedya.” Ivan encourages as he kneels next to his partner. “Focus on the numbers. Don’t think of anything else.”

Fedyor nods feebly and does as he’s told; his eyes close and his lips begin to move in a voiceless mumble as he starts to count. Ivan slips his fingers carefully between the coils of wire, and as gently as he can, he begins to saw at it with the dagger. No matter how gentle he tries to be, however, Fedyor’s body immediately tenses and his breath comes out in short gasps. Ivan shushes him softly, although he knows it’s not much help. The best he can do for Fedyor now, is focus on his task. And so he does- he does his best to shut off the pained gasps that soon turn into whimpers, and saws methodically at the accursed barbed coil until, little by little, it starts to come off.

“…fifty.” Fedyor murmurs shakily at some point, and Ivan doesn’t have to look to know there are tears running down his blood-crusted cheeks.

“Ten more, moye serdtse. I’m almost done. You’re doing so well. You’re so, so brave, my Fedyenka. So brave.”

Fedyor’s chest heaves as he cries quietly, but he doesn’t complain, not even when Ivan finally cuts through the wires and is able to pull them away. There’s a sickening wet sound as the barbs are pulled free from Fedyor’s flesh, where they’d been wedged for days, and Fedyor’s back arches- for once, he can’t keep in the hoarse scream that rips out of his throat. But the next moment his muscles relax as Ivan unbinds him completely, his fingers twitching slightly in relief as blood circulates back to them. Ivan breathes out a sigh, and places his palm on Fedyor’s forehead.

“I’m done, Fedya. It’s alright now.” Fedyor only shakes his head a little, unable to speak. But his heartbeat has eased just slightly- he’s still in pain, but he’s better.

The group makes camp right there, inside the warehouse (after moving the corpses of the druskelle away and dumping them into a snowdrift to be prey for scavenging animals. Serves them right). They hold a funeral pyre for the deceased Grisha, but Ivan only speaks a few words as the squad’s leader and then retreats back into the building; one of the others has lit a fire in the middle, right under an opening in the rotting roof, using old scraps and thin branches. The interior is warm now, and the smell of burning cloth and wood is chasing away the odour of stale blood and dead bodies. Ivan directs two of the Grisha to stand watch as soon as the funeral pyre outside is done, and focuses on the task at hand.

He digs around the ruins until he finds something that resembles an old, cracked wooden bowl- possibly used by the previous owner of the establishment to collect the majority of the blood that poured from freshly slaughtered cattle. It looks cleaner than one would expect, and it smells only vaguely of blood; nothing a good rinse with snow can’t fix. After that’s done, Ivan refills the bowl with snow and holds it over the fire until it’s turned into warm water. He rummages through the squad’s supplies too, and finds clean cloths and bandages.

Fedyor’s eyes flutter behind pale, close lids when Ivan returns to his side, although he seems to weak to open them. Still, Ivan knows he’s still conscious and in pain.

“I’m going to clean your wounds.” He says softly, sitting next to the other man. Fedyor can only hum in agreement- it’s not like he could move away even if he wanted to. Even if he didn’t know his wounds had to be cleaned before infection set in for real. There was no Healer with them, as conflict hadn’t been expected. It had only been a reconnaissance mission. It would be three days of fast riding at the very best, until they made it back to the Little Palace, and Fedyor wouldn’t last for half of it if Ivan didn’t do something to keep the infection at bay.

So with as much care as he can possibly muster, Ivan takes hold of Fedyor’s hand into his own and lifts it up slowly to take a closer look. Even with the dried blood obscuring the worst of it, Ivan can already tell it’s worse than he’s initially assessed; the cuts are deep, the skin around them swollen and hot to the touch, and there’s white liquid concentrated on the edges of the deeper, wider gashes. Fedyor’s hand is trembling in his own, and Ivan can only imagine how much it truly hurts. Fedyor has a high pain tolerance, yet even for him this must be almost unbearable.

In a desperate attempt to comfort his partner, Ivan starts to hum a slow lullaby as he soaks a strip of cloth in the warm water, then wrings it out and starts to slowly, gently clean the blood and grime away from the cuts. Fedyor lets out a quiet sigh of relief, the clean, warm water immediately doing wonders for his mangled hand. Ivan allows himself a small smile; he doesn’t cease his humming while he continues to carefully clean and bandage Fedyor’s left hand, then his right. All the while he keeps a metaphorical eye on Fedyor’s heartbeat, glad to feel it gradually grow slower and more relaxed. The last thing Ivan does after he’s checked Fedyor for other open wounds (he’s satisfied to find nothing, although the dark bruises on his face, chest and ribs are certainly worrisome), is clean the rest of the blood from his husband’s hair, face, and neck. By the end of it, the water in the bowl has turned from clear to a dark, muddy brown colour. Ivan does away with it as soon as he can- he can no longer stand to look at Fedyor’s blood.

Most of the other Grisha have gone to sleep by now, including the other survivor- a good sign all in all, and Ivan can see from where he stands that her own wounds have also been taken care of. The two Grisha he’d ordered to stand watch are doing so in a perfectly straight posture, even after four gruelling days of riding and searching, and Ivan makes a mental note to mention their names and devotion to the General when they go back to the capital. When he’s certain everything is in order, Ivan finally allows himself to lie down next to Fedyor. The wooden floor is uncomfortable at best, but he doesn’t care. Gently, he slings one arm over his husband’s sleeping form and draws him close. He’s never letting Fedyor go, ever again.

Fedyor hums a little in his sleep, cracking one eye open to look at Ivan. Immediately, he smiles tiredly and Ivan smiles back, unable to begrudge him such a simple pleasure.

“How are you feeling, moye serdtse?” He asks.

“Much… much better.” Fedyor whispers in a relaxed manner. Yet Ivan doesn’t harbour any illusions- he knows the pain and fever will come back with a vengeance soon, and he wants Fedyor to get as much rest as possible until then. He’ll need it. So he places a chaste kiss on Fedyor’s lips and starts filing his hand through the latter’s hair. Predictably, Fedyor submits to the affections; Ivan knows how to best make him relax, even under such conditions.

“Sleep.” Ivan whispers tenderly, and Fedyor nods. Before he closes his eyes again, Fedyor offers him another small smile.

“I knew you’d find me.” He mouthed, and Ivan nodded, pride and love and devotion swelling in his chest.

“Of course, my love. I will never leave you. I promise.”

Even if the whole Ravka, the whole world, was against them, they believed in each other. And in the end, that was that really mattered.

#my writing #whumptober 2021 #fivan #heartrender husbands #shadow & bone #fedyor kaminsky #ivan no last name #fedyor x ivan #angst #whump #whumptober