#even if i resigned almost three years ago now

[ms-softgoods]

.

#i love how im still receiving all the chismis/juicy gossip from my previous work #even if i resigned almost three years ago now #gotta love my old co-workers for keeping me updated with the gossip 🫡🤭

[suuuupernovaaa]

zeykoyu

zeykoyu [zɛj.ˈko.ju] n. healer

Anonymous Request: I would like to request a Neteyam x Na'vi reader with the "you'll never be her trope", where reader is promised to Neteyam, but he loves another. He is sort of a shitty asshole to her, a girl who is a quiet not very well known member of the clan; he treats reader with the coldest shoulder. However, he overhears the girl talking to her friends about how she just using Neteyam to gain status in the clan. He then sees reader for the caring person she is, and grovels for forgiveness.

I have resigned myself to my fate.

In what feels like a very short amount of time, I will be mated for life before Eywa, to a man who does not love me. In fact, he barely seems to tolerate me.

He looks at me with disappointment, and sometimes, it even looks like he feels disgusted by me.

It wasn't always this way. Neteyam used to be a friend, and someone I trusted. He was so kind and good-hearted when we were younger, but he has turned his back on me and come to resent our pairing.

As if it is my choice! I am the next Tsahik of our people, and he the next Olo'eyktan. We are promised to each other from youth, and there's nothing either of us can do that would not cause much upset in the clan, and with our families.

Though Neteyam clearly does not want to be mated to me, even more than that, he does not want to upset his family.

The change in his heart happened just a year ago, and it was slow at first. We went from friends to acquaintances to strangers, and now to near enemies, because of her.

I don't really blame her, though. He fell in love with her, and she can't control that. I felt jealous at first, but over time, as Neteyam has treated me more and more coldly, I have started to hate both of them.

If I'm being honest, I understand why he loves her; she is beautiful, and funny, and many men have had their eyes on her. I am plain, and small, and not many people speak to me. She does seem a better match for someone like Neteyam, and I almost wish we could be free of this pairing.

As much as Neteyam does not want to disappoint his family, I don't want to disappoint our people; I am a talented healer and I will serve our people well as Tsahik.

So I have resigned myself to my fate.

Our fate.

--

Neteyam watches Sa'me from a distance, as she approaches the center of home tree with her friends, dropping off a full fishing net from a day's work.

His heart swells with pride at the woman he loves, and then, he gets angry. These two feelings always accompany each other.

Love and adoration for Sa'me, and disappointment towards his fate. It doesn't matter who he loves; he's promised to Y/N, and he can't get out of it. That's just not how it works.

She is the next Tsahik and he knows, despite how he wants things to be, that she will be an excellent Tsahik for their people. He has to put the people before himself.

But he does not have to be happy about it.

He approches Sa'me and her friends, but their backs are to him as they empty their nets, and as he gets closer, he hears their conversation.

"Aren't you worried, about his upcoming mating ceremony?" one friend asks.

To his surprise, Sa'me laughs. "No! I have gotten what I wanted, and I am relieved it will end soon."

He stops in his tracks, listening closely.

"Sa'me!" a friend chastises.

"Well, I have three offers for my hand, from fine men. I owe that to Neteyam. When they knew he wanted me, that made them want me. I think I'll pick Marek - he's handsome and strong. Neteyam is nice, but too boring for me. Plus, the way he's treated Y/N since we started spending time together... I almost feel bad for her. She will have a miserable life."

The girls laugh, and Neteyam spins on his heel, charging away.

--

He expects sympathy from his sister, but earns only an eye-roll when he tells Kiri what he overheard.

"Well, she's right. You knew you were promised and pursued Sa'me anyway, even though it was kind of obvious what she was doing. And you have been an asshole to Y/N. She's really nice to still put up with you - to even speak with you. You've treated her like dirt the last year, and she's never said a mean thing about you. Even though, she would be right to do it."

Neteyam stares at his sister, slack jawed, unsure whether to feel angry or guilty. A fine mixture of both rises in his chest, and he sighs.

"You used to be friends with her, you know. She's so sweet, and so kind. She's only putting up with your behavior so she can be Tsahik, and not because she cares about the title. She wants to help the People, and knows she'll be able to if she's Tsahik. She just has to marry an asshole to do it."

"Okay, okay," Neteyam says, waving his hand in the air, begging his sister to stop.

"Well, I just don't feel bad for you, Teyam. You need to grow up and deal with what you did."

He rolls his eyes, but he can't deny it: Kiri is right.

--

Without her noticing, Neteyam starts to watch Y/N as much as he can from that day in. Her daily routine is simple. She rises early, and heads into the forest to gather supplies she can use in her healing practice. Once she's done, she begins going around to people who she knows need her help, in and out of their homes all day, gaining hugs and smiles and thanks wherever she goes.

She is soft-spoken, and kind hearted, and her small stature only serves to make her seem more gentle, more dispositioned for healing.

He sees the way people look at her as she approaches - they look at her with relief, and hope, and when she leaves, she leaves people better than she found them.

Neteyam feels sick to his stomach.

He tries to remember what it is about Sa'me that drew him in. He sees her beauty, he can't deny it still, but it's clear now that her beauty is only on the surface.

Did she ever compliment him? Support him? Offer him a kind word?

He can't even remember what they talked about... for a year.

"Neteyam?"

He turns from the tree he's leaning against and sees Y/N approaching, a large basket in her arms.

"You look ill. Are you okay?"

Neteyam wants to tell her he's fine, that she should leave, but he feels light-headed and instead, he sinks to the ground, a sweat breaking out on his brow.

"I'm... okay. My head feels light."

She kneels in front of him, rummaging through her basket. She pours a few things in a cup, and mixes them together with a powder.

"Here," she says, handing it to him. He takes it, his hands touching hers for a second, and he's struck by how small her hands are.

She's so delicate, like a flower, and he has certainly done his best to trample all over her.

The shame he feels is unlike anything he's ever felt before.

The drink is bitter, but it starts working almost immediately, and the faint feeling begins to fade.

"Thank you, Y/N," he says, handing the cup back to her. She takes it with a small smile and a nod, and rises to leave. Neteyam reaches out, grabbing her arm. "Wait."

She turns, frowning down at him. He stands up.

"I want to apologize to you, Y/N. I have been... terrible. I have neglected you, and I have been an asshole. I'm sorry. I would like to start again."

She tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes, staring deep into him. He wonders if she can see his soul.

--

Of all of the things I thought Neteyam wanted to say to me, 'I'm sorry' was not even on the list.

My instinct is to tell him to go to tell, but there is such a strange look on his face... he still looks sick, and sad, and a little bit ashamed.

Well, he should be. But also - what choice do I have? If Neteyam is offering me a chance to make the best of this situation, shouldn't I take it?

I remember how I felt about him once. Hopeful, excited, nearly in love... but that feeling is so far away now. I'm not sure if there's even a possibility of re-gaining it.

But, it seems smart to try, if we are to have any chance at a happy life.

"Okay," I reply finally. "But I don't think Sa'me will appreciate it."

Neteyam hangs his head for a moment, and then meets my eyes again. "What she appreciates does not matter. You are to be my mate. You are all that matters."

He places a hand over his heart.

I would like to trust him, but it's going to take more than one conversation where he says the right things.

--

It seems I cannot get rid of Neteyam now. When I gather supplies in the morning, he is there. When I make my rounds in the village, he is there. He is always... there.

Not silently, either. He is full of questions. Everything I do and say, he has a question about. If it wasn't endearing, it would be exhausting.

After a week of this, he asks me to take a ride on our ikrans with him - and I can't say no. I have been so busy working lately, that it sounds like a wonderful and welcome break.

Early in the morning, we head out together, and take one of the longest rides I've ever been on. In the air, we twist and turn and glide together, and all the while, Neteyam is whooping and throwing me ear-to-ear smiles.

He gestures to a nearby cave in the floating rocks, and we land together, dismounting. We are both wind-burnt, but smiling.

"I must ask you something," I say.

"Anything," Neteyam replies, chest heaving from the effort of riding.

"Why did you change your mind? About Sa'me?"

His face darkens, and he sighs. "I overheard her talking about how being seen with me has gotten her offers from many fine potential mates, and she doesn't care that I'm promised to someone else."

I wince. Even if Neteyam is a jerk, I don't think anyone deserves to be used like that.

"I'm sorry, Neteyam. Though, that does explain your sudden... interest."

He shakes his head. "No. After I heard what Sa'me said, I went to Kiri and she, uh, pointed out what an asshole I've been. She also pointed out how kind and smart and talented you are, probably to let me know, uh, what an asshole I've been. So I started kind of, uh, watching you. And I realized she was right."

"About what?"

"Well, I am an asshole but... you are the most kind-hearted woman in this clan. And you did not try to withdraw from our match because you deserve to be Tsahik. Not for the title, but because you are best suited to serve our people. You care about them more than yourself. You're selfless. And beautiful. And I was blind to think anyone could be better suited for me."

I bite my lip, and take a step back. "Neteyam, that all sounds very nice, but I..."

He steps forward, reaching out and taking both of my hands in his. "It isn't enough. I know that, Y/N. I don't expect our problems to be solved now. I just want a chance to prove to you, who I really am. What a good mate I can be for you. I can make you happy. I want to. It's all I want."

I can feel the tears gathering in my eyes, and I blink hard to keep them at bay. "I always thought so highly of you, Neteyam. I want us to be happy. I want to try."

He squeezes my hand tightly, pulling me to him.

"I will make you happy. I promise you, Y/N. Please, let me kiss you."

I hesitate for only a moment. The look in his eyes is so sincere, and his eyes fall down to my lips for just a moment, then back up to my eyes, and I can't resist. Everything I want seems to be within my grasp.

He places his hands around my waist, and pulls me in.

"Say yes," he whispers. I can't find my voice, but I nod.

The kiss is explosive. A year of anger, frustration and want packed into one kiss. My body is flush to his, and I feel the tears spilling over, but I can't stop them, and I don't want to pull away.

It feels too good.

I put my hands in his hair, gripping tightly, sighing against his lips, and he groans.

Finally, we pull away, and stare at each other, both breathless.

"I will make you happy, healer," he whispers.

I might believe him now.

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar #avatar twow

[buckyysdoll]

— 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 —

જ⁀➴ — • summary: off from work sick, you cancel your date — but that won’t stop spencer plans <3; • a/n: this scenario has been in my head for almost two years, and i finally wrote it !!; • cw: none, but themes of sickness (flu); • pairing: spencer reid x f!reader

MAIN MASTERLIST

Thirty minutes after your phone call, your apartment doorbell rang out with a buzz — thankfully not so obnoxiously loud as the shrill, high notes of the one you’d once owned.

You groaned, debating what to do, and the headache at your temples only throbbed ever harder. You’d only just managed to get comfortable, and would be well damned if you had to get up.

If you left it, you thought, perhaps whoever was there would just then leave. For all that they knew, you might’ve been out, and why not? You’d just let them believe it. Right now just the thought of leaving your couch had you mourning the loss of its warmth, already missing the relative comfort of where you’d been laying for most of the day.

It was just your luck to be sick on the first day off that you’d had in five months; life in the BAU had its stressors enough and now this? The world sure had its humour.

It seemed to be flu, or something similar — and now in November, it was hardly unlikely. After three bouts of nausea, those flushes of both hot and cold, you were truly fatigued. Somehow though, neither one of those bothered you more than one fact in particular:

You’d had to cancel your date with fellow agent turned close friend, Spencer Reid.

Your blanket and tissues and trashy tv was now all that tonight had in store.

When you’d spoken to him on the phone, he’d hidden his disappointment well; it was an undercurrent beneath the much greater worry for you, for how sick you were feeling. But then, what really did you expect? This was Spencer — of course he’d been understanding. He’d hoped you’d feel better as soon as you could, even offered to do “anything that might help.”

But you’d firmly insisted that after such a long shift working a case, the very last thing he needed was sickness from you if your influenza spread.

A knocking sounded at the door, just three short raps. Polite, uniform. It was enough to pull you out from your thoughts and resign yourself to opening the goddamn thing.

You hobbled up to your feet. Even just standing, your head spun, prickled; you waited until you regained your balance. When at last you did, you mumbled a quick “I’m coming” before with great effort, trudging to the door.

Your progress was slow, the blanket that had covered your legs now tossed over your shoulders. It was draped on each side so that it almost drowned out your whole form, and that was how you answered the door.

Hair a mess, dark circles in moon crescents just under your eyes, most likely snot clearly plain on the tissue that you clutched to your face — and on the doorstep, Spencer.

Shock registered dimly, followed by an immediate warmth. Whoever you’d expected it hadn’t been him, and yet just the sight of him spiked up your pulse.

“Spence? What are you doing here?” Acting on instinct, you opened up the door wider. There he stood, still in his smart suit, fresh from work with that wind-tousled hair. His eyes were concerned, and you knew that look well, saw it etched on each well-loved part of his face.

Spencer’s gaze swept over you, by no means brazen — uncertain, unsure. “Well you’re sick, so we obviously can’t go out anymore. But I grabbed some of your favourites, and just thought we could stay in …”

His voice was matter of fact, just like always, no nuance and only slight nerves. You hadn’t even noticed the brown paper bag that he clutched to his chest, but did now.

Your favourites.

It was something so simple, so endlessly thoughtful that your heart leapt with something unnamed. This was only the second ever date that you’d had since meeting some few months ago; you’d both taken time, seemed to waste it, hoping that the other one would ask first. And he did.

But you weren’t quite ready to name the soft feeling that had your chest aching inside you, couldn’t quite speak around the lump in your throat that could only be love, or close enough to it.

Spencer must’ve taken your silence for no, and when he next spoke, was less sure. “I was hoping that maybe … I could be here, tonight? You need your rest, and I know that you cancelled, but I guess I just thought I could be here to help —”

He was rambling. Actually rambling. That sense of heartache only ricocheted higher. You watched as one hand went up, streaked back through his hair, and he realised that he’d over-spoke.

His eyes gladly landed anywhere but on you, and you’d never felt more devastated.

You reached for his arm, and steadied it where it had reached for his hair once again; you knew him so well, each and every nervous habit, and his tells were second nature to you by now. It was only at your touch that his eyes at last stilled on your face. And this time, they didn’t leave.

“Spence, I was just gonna say that I really don’t wanna make you sick, too.” Your heart rate was spiking with affection for this boy who had a blush rising soft on his cheeks. His smile was quiet, eyes warm, as though he hadn’t just moved you with the sweetness of the gesture he’d made.

He’d come to your door with snacks, medicines — everything you’d need to feel better — just so he could be here, could take care of you, while you were too sick to go on your date.

“I’d really rather be sick with you than alright with anyone else.” And oh god. The crimson shade to his cheeks after that had your stomach going wild in flips — the way that he’d spoken the words so quickly as though they’d been instinct, as though he’d meant to just think them.

You couldn’t stop staring at him.

In this moment, he wasn’t Doctor Reid — unassuming, modest owner of three phds. He wasn’t just Spencer, so sweet and kind underneath the sure genius and practical skill.

No. Right here, he was Spence — and you, the only one who gave him that name. He was the boy on your doorstep that over the months that you’d known him — you’d now come to love.

His smile grew and so did yours; those thoughts were so plain on your face. Your plans for the night had just got that much brighter than you’d thought just ten minutes before.

#fanfic #fanfic author #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x f!reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer x you #spencer x reader #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XVI (kinda? Idk. Explanation in the note.)

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. I would say reader is ooc in this one, or it might feel like that. I don't know. There are also mentions of a difficult family situation (awful father, deceased mother, etc.)... Oh, and this almost makes me look anti-Gojo (I'm not, though).

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV

----------------------

“Aomori?” you repeated in disbelief. Isn’t that like…?”

Haruki leaned forward on his elbows on the table and placed his head in his hands in frustration. You watched his fingers bury themselves in his brown curls and tug them.

“It’s about a ten-hour bus ride or four hours in the train...” he said without looking at you. His eyes were on the table, and you could only see the top of his head. “That if I’m lucky… Which I am not, obviously,” he grumbled and lifted his head to look at you.

You two were at the coffee shop where he worked, or rather, used to work. He had submitted his resignation the day before.

“That’s far.” You were not sure of what else to say. The notice of his departure was coming in too sudden. Only a few days ago you had been talking about maybe meeting up on New Year’s Eve, and now he was leaving? “For… For how long?”

Ikeda looked outside and shrugged. “He’s transferring me there so I guess he means at least until the end of high school, and then…” he frowned. In fact, he was not sure of what would happen after that. “I’m sure that jerk will come up with something else.”

Haruki looked back at you and, realizing what he had said, quickly apologized for speaking like that in front of you.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t believe he did this behind my back. I knew he could not stand seeing me, but I never thought he would plan something like this and ambush me any other Tuesday.”

He sighed, and you looked at him with sympathy. It was the most distressed you had ever seen him, and the most upset too.

Haruki, who always looked happy and unbothered when he was with you, had only ever appeared uncomfortable, and sometimes even angered, when he spoke about his father. At first, you had believed they just did not get along, but it was more than that; Haruki had told you once that his father seemed to resent him since his mother left.

“I’ve never blamed her,” he told you one day while you waited for his train, “she was sick and he was never at home, but when he was, he was horrible to her.”

He had then showed you her picture. A beautiful woman with long brown hair and bright eyes a few shades clearer than her locks, smiling and hugging an eight-year-old Haruki; he had definitely gotten the looks from her, and it was evident she had loved him dearly.

Due to her illness, Haruki’s mother had passed away just a couple years after leaving her husband, before she was able to fulfill her promise to his son to come back for him. Hence, Haruki had ended up stuck with a resentful father who was almost never at home, but when he was, he was as horrible to his son as he had been to the mother he resembled. And now, he was sending him to live with his uncle in a distant prefecture to attend a new school.

He had given Haruki little less than a week to, and the boy quoted, “wrap up any business in Tokyo.”

Apparently, that included you, who did your best to comfort him, even if there was not much you could say or do.

“I will miss you,” Ikeda said after you assured him it would be alright and that two or three years would sure fly by, and then he would not need to listen to what his father or his uncle said. It seemed his mood had improved a little at that.

“I will miss you too,” you told him, still wrapping your head around the idea of not seeing him anymore.

If only you could see curses, maybe there would be another way out for you, maybe we could have more time.

You pushed that thought away. That was selfish thinking, was it not? Of course, you would not want Haruki to live in gore and pain as a sorcerer. There had to be better, more peaceful options for him somewhere.

“I like you a lot.” His words pulled you out of your head, and when your eyes focused on him, you noticed his face was flushed, but he was looking right at you. “I think I could have loved you. Not that I don’t now,” he smiled softly, “but in the way I wanted to love you.”

There was a tinge of sadness in his voice, but your heart was beating faster as he spoke. Did that mean you wanted to love him too?

“I…” you started, but he shook his head and smiled.

“It’s fine. I thought we had more time, so I did not tell you sooner, but now, I just realized I wanted to let you know in person.”

Haruki had not planned to confess that day. He was only going to tell you he was leaving and ask you to stay in touch but realizing that it might be the last time he was going to see you in, perhaps, a long time, he felt he needed to tell you. He had wanted to tell you since the first time you had accepted going out with him that summer, but he then thought it was better not to rush and just let your friendship take its course.

At the end of the day, people should honor their feelings.

That he believed whole-heartedly. That is why Gojo’s attitude had annoyed him, acting as a jealous boyfriend around you if he was nearby but still claiming to be just your friend. If he wanted more, he should admit it instead of doing whatever he thought he was doing that day he accompanied him to the station.

“Haruki, I like you too,” you said sincerely.

But do you like me as I like you? the boy wondered.

He would not ask you that as he would not ask for more at this point. What could he ask, that you waited for him? He was not that arrogant to believe you had to do it nor that idealistic to make promises he knew time could swallow. Knowing that you had cared about him was enough.

He gave you a closed-eye smile. “I’m so glad.”

***

But saying it had not changed anything. You and Haruki had agreed to staying in touch and he had hugged you tightly before letting you go.

Maybe he knew we would drift apart.

You had kept texting and calling each other after that. Once he was with his uncle, he had given you his address, so you could exchange letters; he even sent you a few postcards with some pretty views around his new city. For a little while, you thought you could remain friends and just live on it, but his absence became increasingly painful, and when you both got busy with school again, and he was barely replying to your messages and his letters felt distant, the realization that maybe you had truly loved and lost was devastating.

It happened slowly but not painlessly. There was just never a good time for a quick call anymore, the messages were fewer and shorter, and you probably did not reply to the last one because there was nothing to say, and finally, the letters. Oh, the letters... Once funny and vibrant as your friend had been, they became nothing but curt and disappointing. It was hard to believe that two people who once had so much to talk about could barely bring themselves to write more than a few lines for each other.

I guess people can enter your life seamlessly, but they can hardly leave like that.

Your friends comforted you to their best, and Satoru made it his mission to ensure you would not feel lonely doing the things you liked anymore. Despite your protests, he attached himself to your hip as he had done it when you were kids, even on the days when you did not want to leave your room.

And when, months after Haruki’s departure, you sat down in front of the training fields, tired of waiting for a letter that would not come, Satoru held your hand firmly as you accepted your loss and stayed by your side unfaltering, the same way you would do for him when Suguru left you all later down the road.

That was how, as the seasons changed, you quietly let go of your friend who had been a child of the spring himself.

----------------------

Note: I almost did not want to include this part? I mean, I felt like the other guy needed some explaining, and as much as I enjoyed it, I would say this is almost a filler, so I'm sorry of it's bad. Anyways, if the next part is not the last one, it will sure bring us quite closer. I've not forgotten where I left Satoru, promise!

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XVII

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk fanfic #jjk drabbles #gojo x y/n #reader x character #gojo fanfic #fluff #jujutsu kaisen #pay it no mind #i might delete this later #or maybe not #gojo satoru #jjk gojo

[httpknjoon]

(re)starting over again | kth; 10.5

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 3.5k

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | -

note | more angst haha I swear rainbows and sunshine are coming soon. icymi, I made a spotify playlist for this series! it gets updated every time I write for mc and taehyung. expect it to be angsty haha! anyways, enjoy reading this one. let me know y'all's thoughts.

main masterlist | series masterlist

“Are you sure about this?”

Gail, your supervisor, looked at you while holding the paper you gave her just minutes ago. Your heart beats heavier and louder as you stood in front of her. Gail was never a terrifying supervisor to you. She was always considerate. But this thing that you’re doing right now is still nail-biting. You came to work early today just so you can talk to her. No one knew about your plan except you. 

“Yes,” you replied, unconsciously fiddling with the fabric of your scrub pants.

She stared at you for what felt like a minute. You cannot even read what’s going on in her head. Her eyes wore no emotions and her lips formed a thin line. She moved her sight to the paper again. You felt like you needed to say something.

You cleared your throat, “I’m sorry if it seemed too soon.”

“Oh, it’s fine. We all know two weeks is the minimum time for notices like this.” Finally, her lips broke into a small smile, easing you for a little, as she looks at you again. “May I ask your reason for making this decision?”

You didn’t hesitate on telling your true reason, “I need to take a break and a new environment due to recent circumstances.”

That was two days ago. Gail approved your resignation letter after that exchange and was supportive of your decision. She said you can come to her anytime if you need a recommendation letter for your next employer. Your two-week notice began that same day without anyone– even Jisoo or Julia– knowing. You don’t want to disturb Jisoo because she’s already stressed enough with her wedding.

“You coming home?” Julia asked as you two get your bags on your lockers. 

You two just finished your graveyard shift at seven o clock. You just had a twelve-hour shift but you’re still off to somewhere.

You shook your head, “Not yet. I’m taking a train to Incheon.” 

Her head tilted in your direction, “What? Why? That’s like an hour's ride from here.”

“I’ll be checking this studio apartment unit I saw online,” you answered like it’s not a big deal.

Her eyes widened almost instantly, “You’re moving?!”

You quietly nod your head to her surprised question. A hint of excitement was also obvious in her tone.

“That’s far! Have you told Jisoo yet?”

“Nope.”

“How about Taehyung? Is he going to travel from there to his shop every day? And the house–”

“I still haven’t talked to him about it.” you cut her off calmly before she can ask anything else.

Julia was quick to understand what you meant. Your lips formed into a small, sad smile after saying that. Julia just waved her hand back when you waved yours as you bid goodbye. She instantly knew that moving to a new place isn’t the only life-changing choice you’re making in your life right now.

It was a couple of days before Jisoo and Namjoon’s special day, exactly three days in your two-week notice. Raindrops just happened to visit every night you have a late night shift. You didn’t notice the weather until you heard the roars of thunder while you were in the shower. 

You were busy the whole day in your room. Just cleaning up, feeling like a robot, numbly working so much but eating less. You only had a late breakfast. Taehyung made you buttermilk waffles with fruits, leaving it in a Tupperware on your kitchen counter. You ate and made sure to leave no dishes in the sink. Like a ghost, that’s how you liked to describe your recent presence in your shared home.

You find yourself busy since morning, removing photos in the frames you displayed before and folding some of your clothes from your closet to your luggage. Then, you prepared for your eight-hour shift. Just five minutes past ten in the evening, you walked out of your room ready to go.

“Hey.” 

You saw Taehyung sitting on one of the chairs on your kitchen counter. A thin sheet of smoke from the cup on the table showed he was drinking tea. 

“Hi.” you greeted him shortly.

The shorter your response is, the smaller the chances of small talk, you thought. 

“I packed you some light snacks there. Just some granola and fruits. Also, yogurt.”  

You want to feel something. The joy and giddiness you always have when Taehyung does nice things for you, pre and post-accident. Something that will make your day and shifts your mood. But you almost felt nothing now.

“It’s raining hard tonight,” he mumbled, looking outside the small window in your kitchen.

“It is.”

You tried to busy yourself with putting the snacks he prepared in your bag, not even looking up at him. Not until he said,

“Can I walk you to the stop?” 

Finally, you looked at him. He cannot assume if you’re surprised based on your expression because your face remained blank. No emotions at all.

He continued, ”I just want to make sure you’ll get to work safely.”

“Okay.” Whatever you say.

“You know, you don’t have to do any of this.” You were just looking ahead as you resumed, “You’re not obligated to do anything with me.”

“I wanted to do this.” He replied.

You knew he was looking in your direction through your peripheral vision. As much as you wanted to believe his sincerity, you don’t want to get your hopes high. He was just being nice. That’s it.

Before you go, he handed you another extra umbrella. No one said a single word. You sat away from the windows, just at the back of the bus. Because you knew damn well that you might feel guilty if you see Taehyung frozen on the same spot, waiting for your bus to leave.

“Wake her up. I’ll take out our stuff.”

Jimin unfastened his seatbelt after parking the car. Taehyung turned his head back to your direction. You have been sleeping throughout the whole night and none of them bothered to wake you up when they had a quick stopover since they knew you came from an overnight shift earlier. He got off his seat, gently closing the passenger door.

“YN….” he softly calls for your name.

It took him two more calls before you hummed and moved on to your seat. Your eyes were still closed as you respond to him, still half-asleep,

“What?”

“We’re here…”

Slowly, your eyes opened. You blink a couple times before rubbing your eyes as you sat back properly. Slightly confused, you looked around. He watched as you slowly get back to your senses and realize that you have arrive at the event venue.

“Oh…” you said under your breath. You ran your hand on your dress to smoothen out the tiny wrinkles. Unexpectedly, you turned to Taehyung, “How do I look? Did my hair–”

“Lovely,” he murmured.

For a moment there, you thought you heard a small beat inside your chest. You stare at each other’s eyes and the first thing you sense was familiarity. Then, longing. Then, abruptly, you looked away. Taehyung wasn’t sure if your eyes began glistening before you blinked away. He was about to ask when Jimin spoke outside the car,

“Is she awake? Let’s go. The rehearsal is starting soon, we still have to get these bags in the hotel.”

Thank God, you found a slight relief. Taehyung moved out of your way to let you get out of the car. Minutes later, you, Taehyung, and Jimin are walking to the entrance of the hotel when someone greeted you.

“Oh, my god. Hi!”

Yoonji, Jisoo’s cousin and also one of the bridesmaids, greeted you on your way into the small hotel meant for guests. He recognized her as one of the girls who brought you home after Jisoo’s bachelorette party. You two hugged for a quick second while she smiled politely at Taehyung and Jimin, who introduced himself.

“You can just go tell the receptionist your names. Then, they will say what’s your room number,” she instructed in a little hurry. “The rehearsal will be starting in a few minutes!”

She was pulled by another woman, who you assume is Jisoo’s other relative. You followed what she said and the receptionist was pleasant when she asked for your names. After that, she handed out two keys.

“Room 23 is for Mr. Park. Room 27 is for Ms. YN and Mr. Kim.” Kath, the said receptionist, said.

Your jaw almost dropped while Taehyung froze. Jimin, who stood between you two, immediately noticed your silent reactions. He took the initiative to ask,

“Uhm… May we request another room?”

Kath shook her head, “I’m sorry, sir. But the Kims were the ones who arranged everyone’s rooms.”

You cleared your throat as your brain began processing again, “But do you guys have other available rooms that we can pay for?” 

“We’re currently fully booked, miss. We assume the Kims already booked enough rooms for their relatives and other important guests. So we had our further rooms booked for other visiting guests in town.”

After squeezing your eyes shut while listening to her explanation, you just forced a smile, “Okay, we understand. Thank you.”

Your rooms were on the upper floor and there were only stairs. Taehyung offered to carry your small luggage for you but you declined. Both men could not tell if you were pissed as you kept a straight face until you and Taehyung stood in front of the twenty-seventh room. He unlocked the door for you two.

“Hm.” 

You unconsciously let out a heavy sigh as you and Taehyung scanned the whole room with your eyes. The room was not that… spacious. But it has what a guest needs. A king-sized bed, closet, own bathroom, a table and a chair, and flat-screen television mounted on the wall for entertainment. Plus, a big window with big curtains. 

“You know, maybe I can just go to Jimin’s,” Taehyung, who’s standing behind you, suggested.

But you looked at him, “Do you want to?”

“What?” he blinked, maybe he misheard it.

“Do you want to go there? I mean, this is a king-sized bed. I’m fine sharing it, less hassle. We can put a divider or something.” you recommended, pointing to the bed.

“Are you okay with that?”

You nod, “Yeah. Are you?”

“Okay.” Taehyungs nods too.

“Okay,” you whispered.

It was silent again after that. The atmosphere was weird and maybe suffocating. You are starting to hate this kind of air every time you’re with him. It’s encouraging the decisions you’ve been thinking about lately. Breaking the ice, you looked up at him.

“Uhm, we should go. The rehearsal’s starting soon.”

“Thank you for helping make tomorrow the perfect day for us.” 

The wedding rehearsals earlier were quick as it was not that complicated. Everyone was later invited to the rehearsal dinner. Your seats were pre-arranged. So of course, you two sat next to each other. 

Jisoo was in the middle of her dinner toast when Taehyung took a glance at you. Your sights were focused on the couple who stood in the middle of the event. Your lips formed into a relieved smile as your eyes brighten.

"Tonight, we appreciate you, the people we treasure the most. We toast to having the best wedding team ever!"

Everyone raised their glasses of wine and champagne and took a sip from their drinks. Then, everyone began talking to someone while enjoying the rest of the dinner. Everyone around you and Taehyung is having fun conversations. Even Jimin, who is now talking to some guests. After stealing another glance in your direction, he thought of making a conversation with you.

“I’ve never seen Namjoon that happy,” he mumbled as he looked at his friend.

Unexpectedly, you responded, looking at the couple, “So is Jisoo. Look at their smiles.” 

“How did they meet?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s a really good meet-cute.” you chuckled, shoulders visibly relaxing. 

Then, you began talking about the beginning of your friends’ love story. You were proud as you shared that you were present when they first met. And after days of getting blank stares and rejections from you, Taehyung can see a genuine smile on your face again. He can listen to more of your stories if that is what it takes for you two to be okay again.

The conversation plays out until you and Taehyung decided to get out of the event since guests began going too. From Jisoo and Namjoon’s meet-cute, the topic jumped to how you had a couple of double dates with them. You were enjoying telling stories that you almost forgot about that gloomy feeling you’d been having in you for days now until Taehyung asked another question while you two stroll your way back to your shared room.

“Maybe we could do that again with them?”

You turned your head at him, raising an eyebrow, “What?”

“Double dates. It seemed like we had fun with them,” he replied, hands in his pockets as he smiled softly.

Then, once again, these heavyweights slowly landed on your shoulders and you can feel something breaking inside of you, making you clutch your palm on the skirt of your dress. Taehyung quicking took notice of you pausing and looking at him with lips slightly parted and the joy in your eyes faded, worrying him.

“Hey? You okay?” he asked gently, looking at you.

With that, you snapped out of your trance and nods, “Yeah, sorry.”

God! Get ahold of yourself. You remind yourself. You remembered your things packed back at home and the resignation you signed days ago. You already had a plan and this sudden idea from Taehyung should not change any of it. Unconsciously, you let out a sigh. Taehyung’s heart beats faster.

“Did I say anything wrong?

“Oh, no.” you forced a smile as you took steps with him to the stairs. You let out an awkward chuckle, “I just don’t think we can do double dates anytime soon.”

“Ah, yeah.” he went along.

And it’s silent all over again. But this time, there was this air between you two. You both can feel that someone wants to say something to another. But, both of you two can’t. With every step closer to your room, the air gets thinner and thinner. And when you stood outside your door,

It shattered.

“Can we talk?”

“Can I talk to you?”

Both you and Taehyung said at the same time. You two were staring at each other when you said that. And when you two realized what happened, you looked away with an airy chuckle. You opened the door and he followed inside.

“So… are we going to talk here or outside?” Taehyung spoke when he saw you opening the curtains, letting the fresh air get into the room.

“Uhm, here’s fine,” you replied before inhaling again on the small balcony.

The original plan was to let Taehyung know about your plans after this event. But you just can’t keep it anymore. Especially after you reacted with Taehyung offering ideas like double date again. Taehyung wanted to wait too and he was willing. But he felt he needed to say what he wants now. It might help your relationship at the moment.

“Okay,” you whispered.

You sat on the soft mattress of the bed. Taehyung took a seat on the chair next to the table, just a few feet away from you. He watched as you bit your lip, looking down. You fiddled with your fingers and he can see your chest heave. You were visibly nervous and it makes him wonder what are going to say. 

“YN–”

“Can–”

He nods at you to continue and you did, “I was just going to ask if I can go first.”

“Sure,” he answered, leaning back in the chair.

“Okay. Thank you,” you said every word with the heaviest sigh since you find your heart pounding like crazy just now. 

With all the will in your body, you focused your sight on the man in front of you. His hair was pushed back and the first two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned. His eyes gaze back at yours, you wished you can just communicate with him through this since it might be easier. But you can’t. And within seconds, you can feel the tears at the edge of your blurring sight.

“Taehyung…I… Uhm…” you stuttered when you see a flicker of concern in his eyes. But you continued, “I’m leaving.”

He just stared after you said that. Then, you read the confusion on his face, “What?”

You gulped, “I’m leaving this… arrangement … or whatever this is called. Us. I’m leaving us.”

Your hands shake while waiting for a reaction from him when you said that. But you cannot read his face anymore so you went on.

“I’m moving out of the house. I already looked for an apartment. I know, the house is our shared property. We can talk about the whole splitting thing when I–”

“Are we breaking up?” Taehyung finally said something. His eyebrows were scrunched and his eyes were surprised. But his tone was in between shock and sadness. And maybe mad. You cannot tell.

“Is there even any relationship to break?” 

That was the first thing that came into your mind and you barely thought about it as you said it. You matched his tone. Now, it feels like you two were overwhelmed with emotions and the silence that followed after your question helped to at least make you calm a little. 

Taehyung, on the other hand, is not off his peak of emotions. But he was quiet. He doesn’t know what to feel. He cannot tell what he’s been feeling. Even after what happened these past few days, he didn’t expect to hear this from you. 

“You don’t know me, Taehyung. I’m basically a stranger to you and I’m more than grateful to you for at least letting me take care of you after the accident. But it’s not your obligation to be with me just because I was your girlfriend. The last thing that I want is to force you to stay committed–”

You were ready to end the conversation just like that. But Taehyung cut you off,

“What if I want to? What if I want to be with you now?”

“What?”

You didn’t sound happy. Because you’re not. Taehyung sensed it, you felt quite the opposite when he said that. Still, you stumbled with words.

“Wh– No! N-No, you don’t.”

“I do,” he said like you were challenging him to say it.

You remained unhappy and let out a firm, “No.”

“I do. Why do you keep–”

“Because that would just make me feel shit! You only want me now because you learned what happened between you and Lily!”

Taehyung’s mouth immediately ran dry. For the first time ever since the accident, you raised your voice at him. It’s like watching a volcano explode. Warm drops of tears flow down your cheeks. Your lips were quivering as you continued. Your shoulder shakes as you continued,

“You can’t just choose me like that! That’s fucking unfair! I– I’ve been feeling nothing but awful and lonely for the longest time. I can’t even sleep without having a nightmare about that night! And now that I’m trying to do something for myself, you’re telling me you want to be with me? Right after talking to your ex behind my back? The ex that you originally remembered as your girlfriend? Taehyung, that’s just so fucking unfair.”

You remained seated on the bed but your hand was clutching on the sheet under you. Your voice became weaker as you reached the last sentence. Wiping your tears, you cleared your throat,

 

“If you want me now, that would make me feel like someone you just kept around as a second choice. You know?”

Hearing that, Taehyung instinctively shakes his head, “No, it’s not like that–”

“But that’s how I feel right now,” you confessed in a sad whisper. “And I’m scared that the longer I try to keep this relationship, the higher the chance I’ll lose myself in the process.”

That was another confession. After countless talks and reflection with yourself and your close friends, you knew that sooner or later you have to go for your own. It just took you long to accept it and take a step. You were hopeful then.

It took some minutes for someone to say something again. There was like a big question in the room with you, asking, what’s next. Taehyung who remained speechless in the same chair, just watched you quietly. While you got up from the bed and reached for your phone and room keys. 

“Five years was a lot to be missed and forgotten, Taehyung. I just think that if we go on our separate ways, you can focus on exploring what you lost without the pressure of being committed to me. And I can try to focus on myself again.”

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[lila-lou]

✨Needy✨

Summary: Jensen finally comes home after weeks of filming and shows you how much he missed you.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Language, smut, pregnant reader

Word Count: 2477

A/N: No hate towards anybody. It's just fiction.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

"How do you feel?".

You were currently laying on your large sofa in the living room, your head resting on your left hand while your right hand caressed your belly.

“I’m fine Jay, really”, you smiled at your boyfriend, who was walking over to you with a beer and an orange juice. He looked beyond tired and exhausted. Not surprising considering he only landed four hours ago.

Austin wasn't known for large snowfalls in the winter, so this exceptional situation had led to complications with flights. Jensen's already long flight landed over three hours late, which didn't help his mood. When he saw his pregnant fiancée curled up on the sofa with a broken rib, he was more than pissed. Jensen had only endured the last few weeks on set because he was clinging to the thought that he would soon be able to hold you in his arms again. You and your unborn baby. You've been calling each other every night for the past two weeks to pass the wait, but not once have you mentioned your broken rib.

“Here you go”, Jensen tried to say as nicely as he could while handing you the orange juice, but all the words that came out of his mouth were mumbled. He actually knew that he shouldn't ruin the evening with a bad mood, but the last few weeks had taken a toll on him and his nerves were frayed. Not only was everything going haywire on set, but he also missed you. You were five months pregnant and he felt like he had already missed everything.

You gratefully accepted the glass and took a long sip before setting it aside. Jensen stared blankly at the television, which was playing a horror movie.

“Hey”, you sighed, taking his free hand in yours. “I just didn’t want to burden you unnecessarily. You were always so worried about me and the Baby and with all the stress on set, I thought you wouldn't have to worry about more. I went to the doctor and it’s not that bad”, you tried to explain yourself, but Jensen just rolled his eyes.

“(y/n), you are carrying our child! Do you really think there is something more important at the moment than you and your well-being?”, he replied, still slightly irritated. Of course Jensen was worried and you loved him more than anything for that, but sometimes he could be really overprotective.

“If I promise you, that I won't withhold anything from you anymore, can we please end the evening somewhat peacefully? You didn’t even kiss me when you came in”, you murmur towards the end. Jensen took a long sip of beer and sighed in resignation. Of course he knew he was acting like an ass and that you absolutely didn't deserve that, but he was just worried and stressed.

"You're right. I'm sorry. It's just... the last few weeks have been really stressful and... I feel like I've already missed so much with the little worm", Jensen admitted a little desperately before gently pulling you into his arms. “Besides, I missed you terribly”, he kissed your head lightly.

“Jay… I’m only five months pregnant. We still have four long and wonderful months ahead of us before things get tricky with you being away. You haven't missed anything yet. Except maybe my morning sickness and trust me, you should be glad you weren't there". You tried your best to lighten the mood a little, even if it really wasn't easy. Slowly but surely you could feel him relax. “I hope so”, he murmured before pulling your face to his and finally placing his lips on yours.

“Now tell me about the shoot”, you whispered against his lips with a big grin. While Jensen started talking about his new colleagues and the set, you made yourself comfortable in his arms and pulled the blanket a little higher.

Almost a year ago you moved in with Jensen. You previously had a pretty stressful long-distance relationship. While you were completing your studies in Seattle, Jensen was mostly in Toronto filming “The Boys”. In his free time, he often took the opportunity to spend time with his three children in Austin. Since he was always on the plane, jumping from appointment to appointment, you were usually the one who visited him. It quickly became clear that Jensen wasn't leaving Austin to move in with you, so you had no choice but to leave Seattle.

Luckily you already liked Austin and settled in very quickly.

Jensen had no plans to have any more children, and you hadn't thought about children either. But after your delayed and somewhat escalated housewarming party, contraception wasn't particularly emphasized.

The moment you finally told Jensen about the pregnancy was probably the worst moment of your life. You were so afraid to tell him that it took you forever to say the words without them being swallowed up by your sobs.

Of course, Jensen was anything but enthusiastic, after all, he already had three wonderful children and after his divorce from Danneel, he was happy to take things a little slower with you. However, it didn't take long for him to come to terms with the idea of becoming a father for the fourth time. He still had bad days every now and then where he worried it would all be too much, but overall, he did very well. And now he couldn't wait to finally hold the little munchkin in his arms.

While Jensen told you about his time on set, now in more detail than on the phone, his hand, somewhat distracted, stroked your small baby bump.

“Are you coming to the doctor’s appointment tomorrow? My doctor said we might be able to tell the gender”. Jensen continued to hold you tightly in his arms, your legs crossed over his lap and your head resting lightly on his biceps as he looked down at you.

“Of course, I’ll come”, he kissed your nose. “It’s just the three of us for the next two weeks”. His gaze moved from your eyes down to your belly.

“Is it kicking yet?”, Jensen’s eyes sparkled slightly. You'd think that after three kids he would already know it all, but unfortunately, he was on set for most of his ex-wife's two pregnancies and so wasn't as involved as he would have liked.

“Well, I definitely feel the movements, but they are hardly real kicks. In about 6 weeks you should be able to feel the kicks”, you told him as you watched his hand move in light circles over your belly.

After a while Jensen looked up again. “Being pregnant suits you”, he grinned at you, making you roll your eyes with a chuckle.

“You know how to make a woman blush”, you replied, playfully hitting his chest.

Jensen leaned down to you and pressed his lips lightly to the spot under your ear.

“I know damn well how to make a woman come too”, he whispered harshly to you.

You couldn't help but press your thighs together as a shiver ran down your spine. Despite the fact that you had been together for so long, Jensen still had a strong effect on you. "You think so?", You breathed as he started kissing your neck.

You giggled, your breath hitching slightly. You did not receive an immediate response. Instead, Jensen pulled you onto his lap in one quick movement. As you straddled his legs, he grabbed your ass somewhat roughly with both hands and pushed you closer to him. His lips slid down your neck, leaving wet kisses behind.

“It’s been far too long, sweetheart,” he murmured deeply, his breath hot against your soft skin.

While he kept one hand flat on your lower back, he slipped his other hand into your sweatpants before leaning in to kiss you.

“Actually, I imagined our reunion a little differently”, you whispered against his slightly parted lips, which only lightly touched yours. “With fancy and hot underwear, you know?”.

Jensen couldn't help but laugh lightly, but he stopped with a deep moan when he felt how wet you already were. “Shit baby, I’ve barely touched you and you’re already dripping”, he grinned slightly arrogant. If you weren't so incredibly turned on, you probably would have rolled your eyes. Jensen gently rubbed his fingertips over your soaked clit, making you moan immediately.

“Jensen”, you whined as he continued to tease your clit.

Your eyes were barely open, but you knew Jensen was grinning to himself. You could feel it on your lips.

“Pleaaaase,” you grabbed his thighs and leaned back further so he could get a perfect angle, despite your little baby bump.

“I´ve got you”, he grinned, slipping his middle finger inside you. A soft gasp escaped you as Jensen curled his finger and hit your sweet spot. As he added a second finger, you dug your nails into his skin. “Fuck”, you let out a throaty moan.

“You’re even tighter than usual, baby. I guess I really left you alone for too long”. Your eyes were closed as you were completely absorbed in the feeling your fiancé was giving you.

“Ugh… you did”, you agreed as your eyes met.

With a jerk he pushed your upper body closer to his again and pulled his fingers out of you. No matter how much he loved teasing you, it had been far too long since the last time he could truly feel you.

His arms wrapped tightly around you as he pressed his lips to yours again. “Shit, I missed you so much”, Jensen murmured against your lips, making your heart beat faster.

“I missed you too”, you answered barely audible.

Within seconds, Jensen laid you on your back, tugging your sweatpants and panties off your legs before kneeling on the sofa in front of you, looking at you expectantly. “Touch yourself”, he ordered before you watched as he deftly unbuckled his belt. He loved watching you, almost as much as you loved watching him.

Even though you did this a thousand times, you couldn't stop the blush from rising on your face.

Nevertheless, your fingers found their way to your wet heat as if by themselves. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you felt your own wetness. You carefully dip a finger inside yourself, making you breath heavily. By now Jensen already had his throbbing erection in his hand.

“Just like this Babygirl”, he groaned, switching his gaze between your heated face and your spread legs. Your head fell back into the soft couch cushions as you adjusted to the feeling of your finger sliding through your wet folds. Jensen tried everything to hold onto himself and watch you longer, but the desire to bury himself inside you overwhelmed him.

“Fuck it”, he muttered, freeing himself from his jeans and boxers before leaning over you and pressing his lips greedily to yours. You could already feel his hardness against your pussy when Jensen broke the kiss to take off your shirt. “Fuck, they’ve gotten huge”, he whispered as he massaged your left breast over your bra. You couldn't help but grin when you saw his lustful look. “Do you want to keep talking and teasing or finally start fucking me, Ackles?”, you challenged him, your hands sliding under his shirt and tugging at the hem impatiently.

“So needy”, he grinned down at you, pulling his shirt over his head so you could immediately run your hands over his strong chest and broad shoulders before pulling him closer to you by his biceps.

“I’m going to fuck your tight pussy so good”, he groaned, hovering over you again as he took his cock in his hand and lined himself up with your wet folds.

You shuddered as he pushed himself into you until he bottomed out, stretching you almost painfully and letting out the deepest moan you've ever heard.

"Shit honey, you´re okay?", he chuckled, but actually looked a little worried. It took a few seconds until you found your breath and therefore your voice again. "Yeah... I just... almost forgot how big you are", you admitted.

“Well, after tonight you won’t forget it in a hurry”, he winked at you with a grin.

With that, he withdrew completely and spread your wetness with his tip, sliding it between your glistening folds. Jensen's gaze was literally glued between your legs and you could see in his eyes how much that turned him on. “Jay…please,” you begged, wiggling your hips, trying so hard to get him back in. He responded instantly to your requests and pushed his swollen cock into you again, making you moan loudly. As he thrusted into you harder than he had since you were pregnant, he firmly grabbed your hips and pushed them up from the soft fabric of the couch to thrust into you from a better angle. He hit your sweet spot over and over again, which had got you close within a few minutes. “Jay… I’m…”, your hands grip his wrist as you arch your back desperately. "I know, baby. Just a few more minutes", he moaned, watching your breast bounce in your bra with every hard thrust he gave you. Your lips met again, taking the breath away from both of you. You could feel his hot breath in your mouth again and again as he tried to suppress his moans. “You’re so fucking tight, baby”, he groaned against your swollen lips.

By now you were just mumbling pleas and desperately wanted him to allow you to come.

“Cum for me (y/n)”, his lips trailed down your neck, sucking on your delicate skin. Those few words were all you needed to squeeze his cock even tighter. With loud moans and closed eyes, you finally came.

“Fuck baby”, his voice cracked as he felt you clenching around him.

Seconds later, you could feel him spilling his cum inside you as his head fell back down on your shoulder. His deep moan against your collarbone sends shivers down your spine, creating even more sparks in your stomach as you live out the rest of your orgasm.

It took you both quite a while to catch your breath, still overwhelmed by the feeling.

Jensen held his position a little longer. When you finally felt your heart stop racing, you let out a quiet chuckle, brought on by your thoughts, which you immediately said out loud. “I’m not on the pill”, you whispered, stroking strands of his soft hair while his face was still buried in the croock of your neck.

"Well, I can't knock you up any more than I already did, can I?", he grinned and slowly raised his head.

“I guess not”, you grin, pulling his face to yours and kissing him gently.

“I really missed you”, he whispered as your eyes met.

-

Part2

#jensen ackles #spn #dean winchester #smut #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x y/n #jensen x you #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x y/n #pregnant

[jinxhallows]

𝐔𝐧𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 .

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☾ -- ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛs

prologue | chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | chapter nine | chapter ten | chapter eleven | chapter twelve | chapter lucky thirteen | chapter fourteen | chapter fifteen | chapter sixteen | chapter seventeen | chapter eighteen ((you are here)) |

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ᴍʏ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴏᴜs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ -- @sikebishes @hamburgers101 @felix-housewife @agnes-king @exfolitae @brojustfknkillm3 @skzswife @just-randomm-stuff @thunderous-wolf @3rachasninja @katsukis1wife @hanjingin @mylilliposts

☾ -- ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ɢᴇᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ? ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ ʜᴇʀᴇ

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛᴇᴇɴ | ᴡᴄ: 8.6ᴋ

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A dense smoky fog blankets the ground as you navigate through it, obscuring everything but the silhouette of barren trees in the distance. Their branches reach out like grasping fingers, lending an air of malevolence to the journey. It feels as though every element of the landscape is vying for a piece of your soul. 

The vampires, purportedly devoid of soul, remain unaffected by the eerie atmosphere. Jisung, however, betrays his unease by idly rubbing his amulet between his fingers. Though he maintains his stoic facade, a flicker of apprehension glimmers in his eyes as he catches your gaze. His smile is unfamiliar, lacking its usual warmth—it's akin to the polite nod given to a stranger who holds open a door.  

This isn't the Jisung you're accustomed to. 

Time is running short for Jisung. He's almost resigned to his fate, harboring a faint hope for a swift, painless end once this journey concludes. The prospect of returning home to face the slow decay of his essence over the remaining years weighs on him. 

Thoughts of his long-lost fiancée flit through his mind. He's yet to encounter her in his frequent visits to the afterlife, but perhaps he'll spend his eternity seeking her out instead of perpetually evading death. 

A tender glance at your stomach reveals his excitement at the thought of becoming an uncle. Even though he likely won't be around to see it happen, he finds comfort in knowing that your child will carry his legacy through their magical bloodline. Someday, they'll cross paths again. 

The dark aura emanating from the coyote demon casts a shadow over the group. The silence is difficult to tolerate in its absolute stillness. Wasn't this supposed to be the most dangerous part of the journey? Only a day ago, you were under siege by demons, yet now, on the brink of the final stretch, there's nothing. Certainly, if there were something in the distance, any one of the supernatural creatures on your sides would be able to detect it. 

Hyunjin listens to the crunch of twigs under his feet, lost in his thoughts. He ponders his mother's cryptic words, wondering if tonight will mark the loss of one of his brothers. Maybe even you. Hyunjin had grown incredibly fond of you, and you had earned his loyalty by rescuing him.

Hyunjin even entertains the idea that it should be him instead. Many uncertainties plague his mind. Returning to the mortal world has been a jarring experience, and true peace eludes him. Hyunjin wonders if he'll ever find any sort of peace, or if this perpetual unrest is his eternal atonement for past sins.

"Hold on, you see that?" Chan's voice breaks through Hyunjin's runaway train of thought, directing everyone's attention to a sudden clearing that appears before you, seemingly out of nowhere. The forest, dense and forbidding just moments ago, now yields to an expansive open space. The nearby sounds of water reach your ears, and squinting reveals the clearing's boundary—a cliff shrouded in thick fog. The archway formed by the bending trees at the cliff's edge invites them to peer beyond, where the natural sky seems to disappear. The impending sunrise has vanished from view, leaving behind a darkness that blankets the forest in a timeless haze. 

"This must be it, I can feel it." Santiago declares, drawing a deep breath as he surveys their surroundings, his senses on high alert despite his formidable power.  He didn't clue anyone else in on it, but he had a strange feeling that they were being followed the last hour of travel. When nobody else made note of it, he attributed it to the twisted curse of this place and let it go.

Is this Abysmora? Or does it lie beyond this mysterious veil of smoke? 

You wrap your arms around yourself tightly, a surge of nausea unsettling your stomach. 

"What did you say?" Chan's concerned voice breaks through your thoughts as he turns to check on you, his expression puzzled by a sound he thought he heard. 

"I didn't say anything," you reply, feeling perplexed. Had your thoughts accidentally slipped out aloud? 

"Weird. I could've sworn I heard something," Chan mutters, his brow furrowing in confusion. 

"Maybe your mind's playing tricks on you," Jisung suggests, joining the conversation. "I didn't hear anything either." 

Chan is still skeptical, approaching you with a frown. He squats down to press his ear against your stomach, and you allow the gesture, gently resting your hand on his head, the weight of the moment heavy amidst the strangeness of the situation. Standing up, he scans the group, finding no confirmation of his earlier perception. 

"Nobody else heard it?" he asks, met with shaking heads all around, including yours. 

"In Abysmora, believe only half of what you see and nothing you hear," Santiago advises, breaking the tension. "I don't wanna tempt Fate; she can be cynical. We have to pay the Coyote demon before we cross over."  You avoid eye contact as Santiago looks at you again, instead averting your eyes to the coyote demon close to the water. Somehow, your anger has shed it's skin to reveal your fragile hurt. You wonder why you aren't worthy of the truth from him, even now, after all you had accomplished.

The sight of your mysterious guide at the cliff's edge draws your attention like a moth to a flame. It hovers there, a few inches above the ground, an enigmatic presence, its form shrouded in shadow. Despite its lack of eyes, it seems to peer intently at the ground below, as if deciphering some hidden message written in the earth itself. The air around it crackles with an otherworldly energy, adding to its mystique as it stands sentinel at the edge of the abyss. 

"I'm sorry, pay him? With what?" Jisung's voice rings with alarm. 

"What do you think, my friend?" Santiago responds, unsheathing his knife. "Our life force." With determined steps, he approaches the coyote demon, and the rest of the group follows suit. It remains unfazed, its attention fixed firmly on the ground. You cling tighter to Chan, who slows to let you grip his arm. 

With a wave of its bony hand over the water's edge, a makeshift raft emerges from the foamy stream. It appears flimsy, like a discarded piece of construction material, hardly capable of supporting its own weight, let alone the rush of the rapids with you all atop it. Yet, it remains steady, held aloft by the coyote demon's power. Santiago steps forward first, slicing his palm and allowing blood to spill onto the demon's outstretched hand. Every drop is absorbed without a trace, prompting Felix to follow suit, eyeing the demon warily before adding his own sacrifice. Jisung, surprisingly, steps up next, his usually cautious demeanor overshadowed by the gravity of the situation. 

Hyunjin's turn comes next, and as you and Chan approach, a sense of dread begins to well up within you. The fear seems to seep from the ground itself, creeping up your legs and constricting your throat.   

Chan, hearing something again, looks down at you, his expression troubled. It's a sound he can't quite place, like a whisper in his mind, indecipherable yet unsettling. He blames it on Abysmora's influence, steeling himself against its effects as he watches Hyunjin make his offering. 

As you and Chan present your own blood sacrifices, the sting of the cut fades, replaced by a tingling sensation that signifies rapid healing. Chan pulls you close, whispering words of reassurance as he guides you onto the raft. "I think she's helping you," he murmurs, speaking of the unborn child you two share and her mysterious powers. You wish those powers could alleviate the nausea that still lingers, but as if in response to your wish, the sickness vanishes without a trace. 

Jisung's voice trembles with a mix of anxiety and bravado as he settles onto the raft. "How sure are we that we’re gonna survive this waterfall drop?" he asks, his words filled with a nervous energy. 

Santiago's response cuts through the tension. "You're asking the wrong questions," he declares cryptically.  “I’m still in a mortal body that has never been to Abysmora, about to go over a waterfall, what questions am I supposed to be asking right now?” 

Perched on the edge of uncertainty, you suppress a chuckle at Jisung's retort, stealing a glance at Felix, who struggles to conceal his amusement behind clenched lips. 

“The toll is paid.” 

With a final decree from the coyote demon, the atmosphere shifts. The ethereal guide dissolves into obsidian mist, and in an instant, the raft is swept into the rushing current. 

Chan's arms encircle you protectively as you bury your head in his chest. His embrace offers a semblance of security, though beneath the surface, fear lies in wait in his veins. It's not the fear of death that grips him, but the fear of loss—of you, of his brothers, Jisung; of the life he's only just begun to consider worth living. 

Chan yearns to utter words of comfort, to quell the storm raging within you. 

Casting a sidelong glance toward Hyunjin, he extends a tentative gesture of affection, seeking to bridge the chasm between them. Though initially stiff under the weight of fraternal embrace, Hyunjin gradually yields to Chan's touch. 

Across the raft, Felix's gaze meets Chan's in a quiet exchange. But before their unspoken bond can solidify, in an instant, the world tilts on its axis as the raft hurtles over the precipice, plunging into the yawning abyss below. 

For a heart-stopping moment, gravity claims dominion, and the sensation of free fall grips you all. The wind whips around you, snatching at your clothes, your hair, as you all hurtle downward into the void. 

But just as suddenly as it began, the vertiginous descent comes to a halt. The world around you seems to freeze, time itself holding its breath as the raft settles into the stillness of Abysmora's dark embrace.    "Fucking Hell—" Felix's expletive pierces the air, jolting you from your reverie. 

"Jisung, little witch, are you—" He begins to ask, worrying for the mortal passengers.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. You?" Jisung's voice wavers with the remnants of adrenaline. 

"I'm... still here," you manage, your voice a fragile whisper amidst the chaos that surrounds you. 

Chan's senses begin getting assaulted by a familiar itch—a primal instinct clawing at the edges of his consciousness.

Surely, he’s not going to turn? Not now? Not like this? 

The same inexplicable murmur tugs at Chan's senses once more, this time drawing his attention squarely to your stomach. An involuntary pang of tenderness wells up within him, a protective instinct he struggles to suppress. And for that second, perhaps two, he doesn't feel his monster trying to come up for air. With a will of its own, his gaze flits away, his jaw clenching with the effort to regain control. 

‘Abysmora is playing tricks on my mind,’ Chan reminds himself sternly, his thoughts a tumultuous whirlwind of uncertainty. He grapples with the realization that, in this strange realm, he may not be able to shield you and his daughter as he wishes. 

But the memory of Amelia, her sacrifice, cuts through the haze of his thoughts like a knife to the heart. He can still feel her absence, a haunting guilt for the price paid for their survival. Chan's arms wrap tightly around himself, his fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket in a desperate attempt to anchor himself in the present, to get out of his own head, to banish the ghosts of the past that threaten to consume him. 

The raft creeps languidly through the dense, murky waters, now a deep, suffocating shade of purple that seems to swallow light rather than reflect it. The waters are calm, yet their opacity hints at untold depths and secrets submerged beneath. Small islets punctuate the expanse like broken teeth, each hosting clusters of weathered gravestones that stand as silent keepers of forgotten lives. Some stones are cloaked in a dense mantle of moss, their inscriptions eroded by time, while others lean precariously, half-engulfed by the encroaching, swamp-like embrace of the water.

The air itself seems to congeal around you, infected with a sense of despair and decay. 

As the raft drifts aimlessly, a disturbing ambiance pervades, heightened by the mist that clings to every surface, weaving through the air like the breath of the isle itself. This mist carries with it an odor so foul, a blend of rotting flesh, sulfur and damp, decayed wood, that it assaults the senses, a physical manifestation of the corruption that seeps from the very soil of this place. 

“Oh God, I- I don’t feel good–” Jisung body convulses slightly as he heaves over the side of the raft, expelling a noxious, black substance—a memory of his earlier possession. The sight is disturbingly out of place against the backdrop of unnatural stillness that surrounds you. He coughs violently, a raw, hacking sound that seems too loud in the oppressive silence, wiping his mouth with a shaky hand, his expression one of revulsion and deep unease.

He speaks, his voice barely above a whisper, but it's clear the very air of Abysmora is anathema to him, a venom to his senses.  “I can’t…I don’t think I can be here very long.”    "I don’t think any of us can…” Felix's voice carries his concern, tasting the bitterness of the venom in his mouth, something he hasn't felt in a long time. Swallowing becomes a chore as the acrid taste spreads, worsening his already noticeable thirst. He keeps his discomfort to himself, knowing his brothers need him now more than ever. Despite the absence of the Full Moon tonight, Abysmora's sky holds no celestial bodies, just an endless void stretching upward into an unseen realm. 

“Where’s Santiago?”     The question of Santiago's whereabouts lingers, as you survey the desolate landscape. Memories of the heated argument with him resurface his words cutting deep. Could he have abandoned the group at the gate, his duty fulfilled by merely delivering you to Abysmora? The worry eats at you, the fear that your past conflicts might have jeopardized the journey for everyone, with no guide to navigate the treacherous unknown ahead. 

None of you have any experience in Abysmora, a daunting realization. It's a frightening thought, to be on an even playing field with some of the strongest creatures you’ve come to know, and all the while carrying your first child.    In truth, Hyunjin has rejected the idea of forming an alliance with Santiago for some time, ever since he inadvertently overheard the conversation back at Lysandra's. Despite the pressing need to focus on capturing Santiago after the Blood Bloom, time constraints forced the brothers to prioritize other tasks. However, with Santiago's sudden disappearance, urgency seeps into their thoughts, amplifying their concerns.    Finally, the raft nudges against the mainland with a soft, almost imperceptible thud, coming to rest at the edge of a larger isle. Here, the tombs are more imposing, grander in their decay, arranged in a deliberate circle that borders the perimeter.

These larger mausoleums and monuments loom like giants, their shadows casting long, dark fingers across the ground as if to welcome—or warn—any who dare to trespass. It feels even heavier here, if possible, threaded with a history of sorrow and darkness that permeates the very ground upon which you’re about to stand.

"No time to figure it out," Chan declares, rising to his feet, his actions prompting the others to follow suit. Stepping onto the mainland, he extends a hand to assist you ashore. Meanwhile, Hyunjin swiftly rips off and repurposes the hood of his jacket into a makeshift mask, covering Jisung's nose and mouth for protection.    “There you are!” Santiago turns the corner of a mausoleum and lays eyes on you.  He seems out of breath, worked up as he shakes his head, catching up with everyone.  

And yet, despite his outward appearance of concern, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes that doesn’t quite match his urgency—a subtle shift in demeanor that leaves you feeling uneasy in his presence.  You hadn’t felt this just moments earlier getting on the raft with him.  

“How did we get separated?” Santiago asks. 

You are the first to answer, unaware of the suspicions of everyone else and just relieved to see another familiar face again.  Though, that nagging doubt gnaws at your mind, whispering of the questions surrounding his sudden reappearance.   

You wonder if Abysmora is playing mind tricks on you too? 

“No idea, but we’re all here, Jisung’s getting sick, we’ve gotta get the Blood Bloom and get out of here.”  You look around, “But where is it?”    "In there." Santiago's gesture directs your attention to a towering statue of a knight, its sword thrust upward toward the darkened sky. "It's always inside the tomb of the One, the very first of our kind." Santiago approaches the statue, touching it with reverence, in a way that strikes you as odd, because it’s as if he hasn’t seen it before, and Santiago said he had taken prior trips to Abysmora, albeit via other routes. 

He must know what the tomb of the “One” looks like? Right?

Muttering under his breath in an unfamiliar tongue, Santiago circles the statue, his intent clear as he seeks a means of entry. 

Felix, ever perceptive, senses a subtle shift in Santiago's aura. Vampires as ancient as he can detect things far beyond micro expressions in mortal faces, no matter what’s wearing the skin.  It’s how they can tell when something isn’t exactly human, or when mortals lie. Yet, this time, something feels different. Is Santiago under some form of influence? What drives him to lead them into the depths of this tomb? He hears the spells the archdemon chants but doesn’t recognize the tongue. 

"Where did you land?" Felix's inquiry interrupts Santiago's prayer, prompting him to refocus his attention. As you join in the search, kneeling amidst the moist earth, the ground squirms with repulsive creatures disturbed from their slumber by your intrusion. 

 "Land?" Santiago straightens up, his confusion evident. "I just woke up behind that grave," he gestures toward a nearby tomb. "I have no idea what happened." His explanation is abruptly interrupted by Jisung's retching, the soul of this environment taking its toll on him once more. As Jisung lifts his makeshift mask to expel another bout of black, putrid vomit onto the soil, Santiago's attention remains fixated on unlocking the tomb's secrets. 

Hyunjin, growing impatient, voices his concern, stepping back to avoid the splatter onto his shoes with a lifted brow. "Can't you do something about him? We can't exactly conjure." 

"It's my bloodline—" Jisung's words are punctuated by another fit of dry heaving. "I can't—my body—" 

You spring into action, rushing to Jisung's side with mounting worry. His suffering raises questions about the influence of this place, and you fear for the well-being of his soul. 

"Jisung, tell me what to do," you plead, desperation clear in your voice as he struggles for breath. But Jisung, consumed by his own distress, cannot offer guidance. With trembling hands, you place your palm against his stomach, channeling an unfamiliar power in a desperate attempt to alleviate his suffering. As your energy flows into his body, Jisung convulses one last time before finding his breath returning in ragged gasps. 

Santiago stays oblivious to the commotion around him, his concentration fixed on the statue, lost in prayer with closed eyes. Meanwhile, Hyunjin's attention wavers as he catches the scent of blood emanating from your ear, a telltale sign of overuse of your conjure. His sudden cough startles you, drawing curious glances from his brothers as he hurriedly wipes his nose, trying to conceal his reaction. The scent reaches Felix next, prompting you to check yourself, and your fingers come away stained with blood. Panic sets in as you hastily wipe your neck with your hoodie sleeve, inadvertently spreading the stain further into the fabric.   

You’ve made it so much worse, and you don’t even know it.      "This can't be what I think it is," Chan says as he uncovers something amidst the infested soil. He holds up a fragment that appears to be from a golden beret, the gold melted over one of the encased jewels, evidence of a failed attempt at destruction. "Do you see this or am I imagining things?"    Felix's heart races as he snatches the fragment from his brother's hand, his senses heightened to every sound, every scent around him. "This is it, this is... I have no doubt," he declares, his voice tight with apprehension. He turns to Hyunjin, whose eyes are fixed on the cursed fragment a few feet away. But instead of their usual crystal blue, they shimmer with a bright amber hue, a telltale sign of a loss of control. Hyunjin shuts his eyes tightly, fighting against the onslaught of disturbing images flooding his mind. He feels the creeping sensation of tiny toothed imps devouring his flesh in the depths of Purgatory, a sensation he fights against with every fiber of his being. Is it the curse or is it just him? 

Passing the fragment to Chan, Felix approaches Hyunjin; and he gently shakes his younger brother from his trance, their eyes meet, and Felix is struck by the vulnerability in those familiar baby blues, a contrast to the centuries of resilience he's come to expect. 

"Brother, what’s—how do you feel?" Felix's voice is soft, a rare tenderness breaking through his usual stoicism. He sees the innocence in Hyunjin once more, a vulnerable human amidst the vast expanse of their immortal existence. 

“Afraid, brother,” Hyunjin confesses, his voice laced with raw emotion. He blinks back the bitterness in his eyes, unable to maintain the eye contact with Felix. “I can’t go through this again. I–I can’t, I’ll die, Felix. I’ll die first.”    Felix's voice cuts through the chaos, gentle yet firm, as he addresses his brother. "Hey now," he begins, his words carrying a sense of his own certainty, a vow to himself amidst the uncertainty surrounding them. 

"I’ll die before you go through that again." 

Hyunjin meets Felix's gaze, feeling a rush of emotions within him. Even that has become foreign after being gone for so long; feeling emotions he'd forgotten the weight of. In that moment of silent connection, he senses the weight of their bond, built over countless centuries of shared trials and unspoken understanding. Despite the shadows of their tumultuous past looming over them, Hyunjin finds safety in the unwavering intensity of Felix's gaze, a silent promise of protection and support. This rediscovered depth in their relationship speaks volumes, highlighting the profound significance they both place on each other's well-being. 

━━━━━━━━   The tension in the room is filled with anger and resentment as Chan confronts his younger brother, his voice echoing off the stone walls. Hyunjin's defiance matches his elder sibling's intensity, his eyes ablaze with righteous fury. 

"Are you mad, brother?! You're in bloodlust!" Chan's words cut through the air like a whip, each syllable dripping with disbelief and frustration. He can't comprehend Hyunjin's actions, can't fathom the depths of his rage. 

"Now you've killed her son?! Amelia's brother?!" Chan's accusation hangs in the air, a damning indictment of Hyunjin's actions. 

"Did her mother not take our parents from us first?!" Hyunjin's retort is sharp, laced with bitterness and grief. To him, his actions are justified, a reckoning for the injustices inflicted upon their family. 

But Chan's anger simmers, threatening to boil over as he struggles to contain his emotions. With a roar of frustration, he hurls a nearby chair against the wall, the sound of splintering wood punctuating the heated exchange. 

"Those were my parents too," Chan's voice is raw with emotion, his eyes flashing with a mix of pain and fury. "Do you not think me furious as well? Do you doubt that I too, want to drink from their hearts and watch them fall to my feet?!" 

Hyunjin stands his ground, undeterred by his brother's outburst. He remains unshaken, fueled by a burning desire for justice. 

"Yes, Christophe, I do!" Hyunjin's words are a challenge, a testament to his unwavering conviction. "I doubt you want to do anything more than run with your tail between your legs, defending a traitorous witch, the very daughter of the woman who murdered our parents!" 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the closed door, Amelia stands frozen, her hand hovering over the doorknob. A cool hand touches her shoulder, and she turns to find Felix by her side. His silent guidance urges her to stay back, to let the brothers work through their grievances without interference. 

As they move a few steps away from the door, Amelia embraces him, softly crying into the fabric of his blouse. Felix's thoughts churn with concern. The arguments between his brothers have become more frequent, fueled by Hyunjin's growing impatience and resentment. His thirst for vengeance risks engulfing him, driving them to move twice in the last four months alone. 

Felix knows Hyunjin cannot be contained, his actions driven by a primal need for retribution. Yet, despite his own fury towards Amelia's family, he understands the futility of their situation. They are newborn vampires--outnumbered, outmatched, and outsmarted without a plan. 

But what troubles Felix the most is Chan's hesitance, his reluctance to act. And as they stand in silence, away from the fight unfolding on the other side of the door, Felix can't shake the feeling that something is amiss, something he can't quite put his finger on… 

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"Santiago," Chan's voice cuts through the tension, his gaze fixed on the archdemon who is still engrossed in his task. With each passing moment, Santiago's words grow more rapid, fueled by a sense of passion that borders on obsession. Chan moves closer, reaching out to get Santiago's attention. "Santiago, hey–" 

The statue begins to shift, its movement accompanied by the harsh scraping of rock and the unsettling rumble of the earth beneath their feet. Hissing echoes around you as the creatures in the soil turn aggressive, some leaping into the air with fangs bared. Hyunjin reacts swiftly, his movements a blur as he dispatches several of the creatures with deadly precision. 

"Protect this at all costs," Chan's command is clear and direct as he locks eyes with you, a brief flash of amber in his gaze before he blinks it away. He presses the beret fragment into your hand, urging you to keep it safe. 

“Come on, hurry!” Santiago hurries down the stairs into the tomb.  You tuck the fragment into your bra and the rest of you have no time to think, and you follow behind, risking the chance that being in the tomb of the very first demon in creation would be safer than being on Abysmora's grounds, exposed. 

If there was anything lurking in this strange place, they certainly know they have unwelcome visitors now.    Jisung's condition noticeably improves as the darkness envelops them, the sickness that had plagued him fading into the blackness. Yet, amidst the near pitch-black surroundings, a distant blue glow emanates from a room at the far end of the underground tunnel. Backed by a surge of adrenaline, you act swiftly, your fingers darting like arrows to ignite the sconces along the walls. Each flame catches, casting a blue hue that bathes the chamber in its glow.    As the dim blue glow from the sconces barely penetrates the darkness, Jisung finds himself momentarily awed by your ingenuity. But any sense of accomplishment is swiftly overshadowed by the atmosphere closing in around you. The tomb of the first demon ever to exist feels suffocating, each breath tainted by the heavy, musty scent of centuries past. With each inhale, Jisung's heart flutters nervously.    In an attempt to summon his conjure to navigate the path ahead, Jisung encounters an unexpected resistance, as though an invisible force is constricting his abilities. A dryness creeps into his mouth, he can’t be powerless yet?! How is this possible?! You were able to light the way without hesitation.  

"Now what?" You whisper, your voice barely audible over the silence. Turning to seek guidance from Santiago, you find him vanished once more. 

"What the–" 

"Little witch, we can’t trust him," Felix's voice cuts through the darkness, his hand pulling you closer to the rough stone wall for protection. 

"But he said–" 

"It doesn’t matter what he’s said," Felix's tone is firm, his words tinged with urgency. "We can’t trust him." 

With no other options available, Hyunjin strides ahead, his figure disappearing into the hallway, with Jisung following closely behind. There is no turning back now, no room for hesitation. You’ve come too far to retreat, your only choice is to press onward.  The confines of the tomb seem to be closing in on Chan, the primal instincts of his wolf beginning to overwhelm him. Sensing the impending shift, he knows he must act quickly, not willing to risk losing control in such close quarters, especially with you nearby. 

With a determined step backward, Chan starts to unzip his hoodie, preparing for the inevitable transformation. His voice carries a note of urgency as he speaks to Felix, his brother, and you. "Felix, you and little witch go on ahead with the others. I’ll catch up with you soon." 

Felix puts his arm around your shoulders and obeys his elder brother’s command. 

As Chan's metamorphosis reverberates through the ancient confines of the tomb, each sinewy shift heralds the awakening of primordial forces. A chill snakes down your spine at the power unleashed, but with Felix's presence guiding you onward, there's little room for fear, only purpose. 

Stepping into the chamber's heart, you feel a lack of control, like you've stepped into public in the nude. This feeling sticks to you as if you're an insect on fly paper, the discomfort follows you. Your gaze is drawn to the raised platform, where a mummified figure cradles a flower in its desiccated grasp. Against the backdrop of darkness, the bloom's vibrant hues stand in defiance, its petals swirling in an ethereal dance.  On the opposite end, Jisung stands watchful, his focus unwavering as he hovers over the coffin. Bathed in the soft azure glow of the chandelier above, the scene unfolds like a tableau of strange beauty, casting shadows that dance across the chamber's walls. 

Your breath catches as you draw near, the allure of the flower irresistible. Its petals, delicate yet sinuous, seem to pulse with a life of their own, their crimson hue a vivid sign of its unearthly vitality. And at the heart, a pool of crimson gleams with luminescence, a symbol of the bloom's power. 

"This is it," you murmur, your voice a mere whisper amidst the hallowed silence of the tomb. "The Blood Bloom." 

Jisung's brows furrow in disbelief, his head shaking in denial. “The legend I remember said it grows in the soil of Abysmora…”    Despite his hesitance, he leans forward, sensing the same energy that grips you both.  

As a sudden stillness envelops the chamber, Jisung's instincts flare, a warning pulsing through his veins. With a sense of alarm, he whirls around, calling out for his missing companions. "Felix? Hyunjin?" His voice echoes off the stone walls, met only by silence. 

Your palms grow clammy, fear prickling at the nape of your neck. "What's happening? What's wrong?" you stammer.    "Oh look, you found it!"     Santiago's voice cuts through the tension, his arrival heralded by a sense of impending doom. Panic floods your veins as you instinctively back away, only to be ensnared by a vice-like grip from behind. Your breath catches in your throat, your thoughts racing to the safety of your unborn child, as fear tightens its grip on your heart. 

"H-Hyunjin..." The name escapes your lips in a breathless whisper, finally realizing the scent. Your body tenses, every nerve on edge as you struggle to keep your composure. 

Before Jisung can react, Felix is upon him, his strength overwhelming as he wrestles the younger man into submission. You look to Santiago, the sight before you twisting your stomach into knots. His head lolls to the side with a sickening crack, a grotesque contortion of flesh and bone. As his eyes roll back into his skull, his skin begins to slough off like molten wax, revealing a smaller, naked figure beneath. 

This new form is like something out of a nightmare, its skin slick with a viscous substance that oozes and drips. The creature's features are twisted and deformed, elongated limbs and sharp, angular joints giving it a disturbed appearance. Its eyes, once human, now gleam with a endless black, reflecting the depths of its sinister nature. 

As the demon's gaze fixes upon you, a shiver runs down your spine, fear gripping you with icy fingers. As Jisung struggles against Felix's overpowering grip, his frustration mounts with each futile attempt to break free. Heat radiates from his palms, a manifestation of his inner turmoil, but it's as if an invisible barrier stifles his efforts, rendering his conjure useless. 

“The audacity only a Han would have, trying to use your conjure here, now don’t you know better? Then again, you want to die, don’t you?” The demon's voice drips with malice, taunting Jisung with cruel words. 

Jisung refuses to dignify the demon's words with a response, his jaw clenched tight in defiance. Beneath his poker face, a sort of fear dances in his eyes. The demon's insight and access into his psyche unnerves him, exposing vulnerabilities he'd rather keep hidden. 

“I have a name, you know.” The demon's grin widens, revealing a mouth lined with jagged, razor-sharp teeth. “Do you want to know it?” 

“Oliver,” you breathe, the name escaping your lips like a curse, triggering a flood of memories from your night terrors that you'd rather forget.  "She's smart, isn't she?" Oliver's voice drips with malicious intent, each word laced with venomous glee. The knowledge that you know his name seems to egg on his perverse joy, a sickening trophy of the power he holds over you, a feeling he rarely gets to feel in his own existence. In the dimly lit chamber, his grin casts twisted shadows across the walls.   

As your gaze darts nervously around the room, searching for any sign of escape, the sound of sloshing footsteps draws your attention to another presence lurking in the shadows. With a sickening lurch of your stomach, you realize that you're not alone, the presence of another demon sending a wave of fear over you. 

The unnamed demon drags a large and furry form into the chamber, its tortured cries echoing off the walls as it's callously thrown against the unforgiving stone. Your heart sinks in your chest at the sight. 

"NO!" Your voice rings out in a desperate plea, the words torn from your throat in a frantic rush. "Hyunjin, let go of me! Stop! This isn't you! That's your brother! Felix! Felix, it's me! Y/N! You're stronger than this! All of you are!" But your cries fall on deaf ears, drowned out by the cruel laughter of the demons that surround you. 

"Chan—Chan, please," you plead, your voice barely a whisper amidst the chaos unfolding around you. Exhausted and defeated, you sink to the ground, your body wracked with sobs as despair threatens to eat you alive and spit you back out with no remorse.    "Y/N, stop," Jisung's voice cuts through the noise, his tone firm as he locks eyes with you from across the room. His gaze speaks volumes, silently urging you to quell your desperate pleas. In this moment of peril, communication is reduced to silent exchanges, a shared understanding passing between you both. 

With a deep breath, you stifle your cries, recognizing the urgency of the situation. Any hope of escape hinges on maintaining composure, lest you risk losing control of your conjure before it can be wielded as a weapon against your captors. 

Exhausted and defeated, you offer no resistance as Hyunjin releases his grip, allowing your body to crumple to the ground. His derisive laughter rings in your ears.    Meanwhile, Oliver's attention drifts to the Blood Bloom, his excitement obvious as he revels in the discovery.     “They really found it, the Blood Bloom!” His voice echoes through the chamber, a frenzied tirade of anticipation as he fixates on the object of his obsession. But his excitement is short-lived, abruptly cut off by a sudden surge of malice directed at the lesser demon. 

"What are you waiting for?! Bring the Mistress!" Oliver commands, his impatience boiling over as he demands action. With a hurried nod, the lesser demon scurries away, his footsteps fading into the distance as he disappears into the darkness. 

Lying on the dirt-covered brick floor, you succumb to silent tears, the weight of anguish pressing down on you like a leaden blanket. With jittery hands, you crawl forward, the distance between you and the wolf reduced to mere inches. As you nestle your face into the coarse fur of the muzzle, a gentle warmth caresses you, soothing the raw edges of your fractured spirit. 

Suddenly, in the darkness, amidst the faint scent of earths and decay, you feel it—a tender brush against your nose, followed by two more delicate licks. Slowly, you open your eyes, greeted by the shimmering gold orbs of the wolf before you. It's a curious sight, this peculiar hue, but within those luminous windows to his soul, you find an unexpected solace—a glimmer of Chan's inherent spirit shining through.    You continue to feign distress, your sobs a desperate symphony masking the turmoil within. Each movement is calculated, every tremor carefully choreographed to draw attention away from your clandestine actions. Your fingers venture into the wolf's mouth, inching closer to the razor-sharp teeth that threaten to sever skin from bone. 

As your wrist hovers over the waiting fangs, fear coils in the pit of your stomach, a visceral reminder of the perilous dance you've chosen to partake in. But you steel yourself against the rising tide of panic, a vow echoing in the recesses of your mind.     You'll fight tooth and nail, even if it means staring death in the face, for you know that within the pits of Hell lies the flickering ember of hope. 

With a nod of assent, Chan's lip twitches in acknowledgment, a fleeting moment of connection. As he closes his jaws with painstaking care, the taste of blood blooms in his mouth, on his tongue, along his gums. Through gritted teeth, you endure the searing pain.    Jisung's mind races as he formulates a plan to wrest control from the clutches of Oliver. With each passing second, the grip of the demon's influence tightens around the minds of Felix and Hyunjin, reducing them to mere marionettes in this macabre play. 

"Felix," Jisung breathes, barely audible in the hushed chamber, "Can you hear me?" 

The vice-like hold tightens, and Felix's response echoes through the silence.  

"Loud and clear, mate," he replies, the words filled with a predatory glee that reminds Jisung of exactly how different they really are from one another when it comes down to being factory reset to pure instinct. 

‘Shit’. A curse punctuates Jisung's thoughts; reaching them in this state seems impossible. Oliver's conjure has rewritten their essence, transforming them into instruments of darkness. To break this unholy connection, the source needs to be severed, and at this moment, Oliver stands as the puppeteer, feeble or not. 

As Chan discreetly drinks from you in his wolf form, Jisung's mind churns with frustration, the invisible chains of restraint still boggling him. 'If he has me restrained, there must be a physical block somewhere' he muses, a spark of realization flickering to life amidst the darkness. 'So how is he doing it? Where is it?' 

A sweeping glance around the chamber reveals the answer, hidden in plain sight. The talismans, hanging down from the ropes strung along the ceiling, catch Jisung's attention. They're no ordinary charms; they bear the unmistakable markings of Korean origin, Bujeok, but warped and twisted into a perversion of their intended purpose.  

These were crafted with him in mind, designed to stifle his magic and render him powerless. 

'Bingo'    He knows what he must do to break free from Oliver's grip, to reclaim control and turn the tide of this deadly game.   Jisung's words slice through the air with a cunning edge as he probes for weaknesses in Oliver's facade. "Possessing the minds of vampires is light work, what’d you do, a blood bind of some sort?" he questions, his tone dripping with sarcasm. 

Oliver's response is swift, a mixture of amusement and hubris. "Well, aren’t you an arrogant little witch?" he retorts, unknowingly stepping right into Jisung's trap. "Demons do more than blood bind to have others do our bidding." 

A smirk plays at the corners of Jisung's lips as he goads Oliver further. "I guess you haven’t figured out how to get a Han to do your bidding though, so you had to use these guys," he gestures disdainfully toward the vampire restraining him. "I mean, I get it though, you don’t look capable of doing it yourself." 

You listen with bated breath, the cool touch of the earth grounding you while Chan's watchful eyes mirror your own tenacity. 

With calculated steps, Oliver descends from the platform, each movement purposeful and deliberate. A glint of steel catches the dim light as he approaches Jisung. As the blade he wields grazes Jisung's cheek, a thin rivulet of blood appears, tracing a crimson path down his face. Oliver steps back, grinning while Felix looms ominously behind Jisung. 

In a mocking tone, Oliver scoffs, "Miss Edith couldn't care less about the likes of you." 

Despite the threat at his neck, Jisung remains steadfast, his gaze averted from Felix's predatory presence. "You're a bad liar," he counters, a beacon of defiance in the face of imminent danger. 

Oliver's smirk fades into a scowl. "I'll have your best friend drain you dry until you're nothing but a lifeless husk." 

Jisung's laughter rings out, carrying a hint of madness. “Yeah, but then you’ll have a mighty angry vampire that can conjure on your hands, and how will you handle that? Oh fuck, you can’t--”  

“You’ll just piss off your Mistress, and I get the feeling that’s a habit of yours—what was your name again?”    The demon's rage is evident, his fists clenched at his sides as he discards the knife, the sound of its impact echoing through the chamber as it hits the ground. His bluff has been called; a demon under another's command lacks the authority to make unilateral decisions, especially ones as significant as ending the lives of captives. Captives that they’ve taken the time to carefully ward against. 

For reasons unknown, they need him alive, at least for the time being. 

"You'll regret this," Oliver seethes, his departure swift as he hurries to investigate the delay in the other demon's return, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the chamber.   Hyunjin stands frozen, his gaze vacant, like a puppet abandoned by its puppeteer. Felix, unmoving, maintains his vice-like hold around Jisung, his thoughts seemingly distant despite his physical grasp.  

With resolve sparking in your weary eyes, you snatch up the knife, ready to act. 

"Little witch, hurry," Jisung urges, his voice barely above a whisper, directing your attention to the talismans hanging from the ceiling. "Cut them down—they're sapping our power."  You swiftly ascend the stone platforms, a strength from an unknown place guiding your every move as you slice through the ropes with the knife. With each talisman that falls, dissipating into wisps of blue smoke, a surge of hope fills the air. Chan, his wolf form a blur, disappears into the darkness, tracking the demons' elusive trail. Your focus wavers momentarily, but Jisung's urgent plea snaps you back to the task at hand. 

"No time, keep going!" he insists, spurring you onward. With steady hands, you continue your circuit around the room, severing the final ropes. Jisung, eyes closed in concentration, channels his purifying energy, causing Felix to recoil and collapse, overcome by the searing sensation of his blood boiling under his skin. As Jisung kneels beside the fallen vampire, a grimly determined spirit, unflinching and serious, settles over him. 

Frustration tinges his voice as he assesses the situation. “Fuck, they’re in deep.” 

You wave your hand in front of Hyunjin’s face but he doesn’t even blink.  “What can we do?” 

"Nothing, yet. We've gotta kill that bastard first." Jisung replies, scanning the room for any signs of their next move. Striding over to the mummified corpse, he delivers a swift kick to the wooden coffin, and you wince, splintering it open. With practiced efficiency, he breaks off a jagged piece of wood, handing it to you before keeping one for himself. 

“But if we have to protect ourselves,” He gestures to the two vampires, “This is the only chance we’ve got.” 

You gaze at the stake in your hand, horror coursing through you at the thought of wielding it against those who have become your kin, your protectors. 

"Listen," Jisung's voice breaks through your turmoil, his tone resolute as he senses your hesitation. “If their souls get away from us again, I can’t help to get ‘em back.  Death is a mercy, but it’s our last resort.”

You agree, though as you look at your friends, lost and locked inside of themselves, you wonder if you’ll follow through with such a promise if the moment were to ever present itself.    Retreating toward the coffin, your gaze fixates on the flower delicately held within its grasp. Without much thought, or perhaps with thought you aren't conscious of, you extend your hand, fingers brushing against the petals, taking it into your grasp. Half-expecting the tomb to quake and crumble around you, like a scene ripped from the pages of a thrilling adventure, you're startled when the chamber remains still. 

"In my dream they wanted to stop us from getting this, I don't know why," you assert, locking eyes with Jisung, an unquenchable fire burning bright within you as you secure the flower in your pocket. "The odds are now in our favor." 

You dart down the corridor, Jisung hot on your heels, fueled by your sudden fearlessness. As the cavern splits into two diverging paths, you and Jisung find yourselves back to back, each scanning for a sign of which route to take. 

Jisung's senses, honed by experience, detect a pulsating energy emanating from the right tunnel. He purposefully directs you away from it, "Go Left!" he calls out to you, his voice echoing down the corridor like a solemn decree. Without a moment's hesitation, you veer down the opposite path, placing your trust in his keen intuition as he forges ahead toward the heart of the mysterious power. In the glow of his flickering flames, Jisung continues on, his back pressed against the unyielding stone walls, each step plunging him deeper, and he can feel himself descending, guided by the flames in his palm, taxing his magick as a necessary means of sight...  You creep, as light as you can on your feet down the hall, and though you don’t sense much, you feel like you’re moving towards something, someone important. A thought crosses you, and you recognize the feeling from before, when you could sense Chan's presence.  You're just not sure how the honing mechanism works in your body. You come to a stop, straining your ears in the silence to hear anything.  How could a place so evil be so silent? Maybe that was a part of its sinister nature, you’re in a constant state of paranoia, questioning everything you encounter.  

That’s when you hear it.    A cacophony reaches your ears—a wet, slurping noise interspersed with sharp cracks and snaps. Despite the unease creeping over you, you find yourself moving forward anyway, your feet carrying you around the corner even as your instincts scream at you to flee. 

As you round the bend, the sounds abruptly cease, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. With shaky hands, you summon a burst of flame, its flickering light casting shadows across the room. You shield your eyes from the sudden brightness, snapping your fingers again to maintain control over the fire with an extended palm, its glow offering a glimpse of the scene before you. 

With a sigh of relief, you realize it is Chan, still in his wolf form, perched atop the body beneath him, methodically tearing away its limbs. Despite the gruesome scene before you, you don't recoil in horror. Instead, a strange understanding dawns upon you—a glimpse into Chan's cryptic intentions. He's systematically dismembering the body.   Catapulted into action, you scour the area until your eyes land on a discarded plank embedded with rusted nails. You don't carry natural nightvision like he does. With a snap of your fingers, flames dance along its surface, casting a flickering glow that barely illuminates the chamber. You hope, to be able to talk about how much you've improved with Jisung once you're all out of this mess. To thank him for everything's he's done for you to get this far with your conjure. Armed with a knife of strangely high quality, the one Oliver had dropped earlier, you set to work, slicing through the demon's flesh with surprising ease. It’s as if its appendages were made of gelatinous cartilage rather than solid muscle. 

With a final, resolute stroke, you lock gazes with Chan, something primitive passing between you two. Taking a deep breath, you shift your focus to the grisly sight before you: the half-mauled neck upon which Chan still labors. You issue a directive, "The leg," you command, indicating the limb lying closest to you. You direct Chan to the leg on your side, trading places to continue the task. You hack away at the remaining flesh of the neck until the head is brutally separated from its body. As the final blow lands, the detached leg collapses to the ground with a sickening thud as the wolf by your side finishes alongside you. 

Chan nudges your wrist, smearing your hoodie sleeve with the dark ichor of the fallen demon. Bewildered, you meet his gaze. "What's wrong?" 

The massive black wolf pads over to the plank, its end nears the final embers of its burn. With a sagacious air, he settles down, resting his head upon his paws. You nod in silent comprehension, scrambling to your feet and surveying the room for flammable materials. Hastily, you gather anything combustible, stacking them in the center of the chamber—a rickety wooden stool, dusty tomes whose contents held no value, and any other debris within reach. 

Chan prowls around the scattered body parts, a low growl rumbling from deep within his chest, and you begin to deduce the demon isn’t gone yet.  "Let's go," you command, stepping backward as Chan joins you at the entrance. With a steady focus, you close your eyes, channeling the power within you. In an explosion of heat and light, flames engulf the chamber, forming a barrier that forces you to retreat, the intensity making you stumble and fall to the ground. Though the flames lick at your skin, they do not scorch, leaving you breathless as you gaze at your hands.    How did you just do that?!    A sharp itch on your forearm draws your attention, prompting you to hastily roll up your sleeve. To your astonishment, you find a series of canine tooth marks left by Chan's earlier bite, unhealed, the crescent pattern etched into your flesh. Frustration bubbles within you as you scratch at the irritated skin, rising to your feet just as the flames begin to dwindle.

"Fuck, Chan, what is this?" you demand, only to find Jisung's figure illuminated by the dying embers, his eyes glinting an unnatural complete black in the dim light.  He grins wickedly as he snatches your wrist tightly, looking down at the bite. “I don’t know, looks pretty bad though.”  Before you can react, he painfully twists your wrist, and darkness consumes you, consciousness slipping away as you collapse into oblivion. 

#uninvited #unhinged #stray kids fanfic #skz fic #skz au #stray kids au #bangchan au #bangchan x reader #bang chan x reader #felix fic #christopher bang fic #jisung fic #han jisung au #felix x reader #vampire felix #vampire skz #wolf bangchan #hybrid chan #hyunjin au #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin vampire #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fic #bang chan fanfic #lee felix fic #felix fanfiction #skz #skz x reader #christopher bang #bangchan

[dear-ao3]

could you explain the mclaren reputation era please I missed it

ok well i don't really understand it entirely so bear with me here as i fumble through this.

essentially yesterday mclaren archived (deleted?) every single one of their instagram posts (and there were Thousands) except for this kind of twist trap esque video of lando, oscar and their car with the tagline "whatever it takes" like the imagine dragons song, or perhaps a 15 year old boy posting selfies of himself in the gym.

this of course is exactly what taylor swift did however many years ago right before she dropped her reputation album, archived every single one of her instagram posts except for these three videos of a snake slithering around and i don't remember what the words were associated with it but it was foreshadowing her reputation album. this was the album that she released directly after she got a whole lot of shit for her 1989 tour, took basically 2 years off and came back with some s tier bangers about how basically she didnt really care what the media thought of her, but she was reinventing herself (remember the "im sorry, the old taylor can't come to the phone right now, why? oh! cause she's dead!" meme" but essentially, it was her comeback after awhile away.

mclaren, as we know, has not won a championship since 2008 with sir lewis hamilton. their driver line up, lando norris and oscar piastri, is the youngest pairing of drivers on the grid (lando is 24, oscar is 22) and while the 2023 season for them started off absolutely terribly (their car fucking sucked) they were able to do some major upgrades throughout the season and turned it around by the silverstone race (just under halfway through the year). from silverstone on (13 races total) mclaren finished in the top 3 nine times (with both oscar and lando on the podium at the qatar and japan races) and were consistently in the points. oscar also won the sprint race in qatar. and lando had i think 17 overtakes at the mexico race, starting 19 and ending 5th. which is kind of incredible. in a season of absolute red bull domination (lets remember that a red bull driver won ever race except for the singapore race, which carlos won with the help of lando) they were consistently challenging them and there was one time in texas (i think?) where lando almost was able to overtake max.

so yes, red bull is definitely the favored team at the moment and is coming off of quite possibly the best season they've ever had. however. mclaren have some distinct advantages going into the 2024 season:

they do not have to worry about silly season. as we know, 14 drivers have contracts ending at the end of 2024 which means the absolute mad rush to resign and offer contracts across basically every team. redbull is basically guaranteed to not resign checo and might even swap him for daniel ricciardo halfway through the season whereas lands contract with mclaren ends in 2025 and oscars ends in 2026. mclaren can spend all of their time worrying about the car and the drivers rather than who they are signing.

oscar piastri. oscar just finished his rookie season (and previously won the f2 and f3 championships and won rookie of the year this year). in terms of rookie years he had an outstanding one. people compared him to lewis hamilton's rookie year. as a refresher, lewis hamiltons rookie year was in 2007 (also at mclaren) and he won his first championship in 2008. oscar is the first rookie since lewis hamilton to get multiple podiums and win something in his rookie year. expectations are running high here.

lando norris's expiring contract. as we know lando has one more confirmed year with mclaren. cel of mclaren zak brown has announced that they want to extend landos contract with mclaren, but, hes starting to get really really good, which means that a top team like red bull or mercedes might also try to get him as a driver. this is the year for mclaren to prove to lando that they can give him what he wants (which is to win a race. in his 5 years of formula 1 he hasn't won anything. and once he starts winning then hes going to want to win a championship. but. there is max verstappen to contend with). so their absolute balls to the wall tactic could work pretty well for them here. pre season testing doesnt start for over another month and they are already clearly locked in to the 2024 season.

lando and oscar actually get along. sure, formula 1 is an individual sport, but there is the drivers championship (for the individual driver) and the constructors championship (for the team with the most points). so they do have to work together. drivers not working together in the past has led to some ... undesirable results for teams (the great brocedes civil war of nico rosberg and lewis hamilton that ultimately resulted in nico retiring after he won his first championship, whatever the hell was going with max and daniel for part of the 2018 season, the french civil war at alpine between pierre gasley and esteban ocon) they are also both very consistent drivers. neither are incredibly crash prone and seem quite willing to work together on the track to optimize results.

yes they do also have disadvantages. lando has never won a race, they only have one pole position between them (lando in russia in 2021) and they're not a red bull. clearly they're the underdog in the situation. but they did finish fourth in the constructors championship in 2023 ("best of the rest") (and after basically getting next to no points for the first several races on account of the fact that their car was shit) behind ferrari, mercedes, and red bull. they're coming for the top 3 and honestly it could be their season to lose.

if ferrari doesnt change their strategy approach then they could be out of a shot at top 3. also ferrari have to deal with the nightmare of resigning both of their drivers (or finding new ones). merc and red bull will both be giving it their all (lewis hamilton really really wants to win his 8th world championship before he retires and max is well. max.) but if mclaren has a competitive car from the start of the season and doesnt have to play catch up for the first several races, then they could easily finish in the top 3.

also they released their livery today? which really confuses me (is that different than the car unveiling? what is going on someone mansplain it to me please)

#not a tag #from saph #thats more information than you will probably ever need to know about mclaren #mclaren #f1

[tikvin]

It appears that I haven't posted info from my twt about Basaman here, which is outrageous since I posted it two years ago

So, let's fix that!

BASAMAN - BESAMAN - BAZAMAN

All three are correct

Basaman is fallen celestial being, who is obsessed with the idea of true love. Creating him, I added typical things that are usually said about or represent love.

Love is blind - he is blind; "love makes you fly" - he has wings. But those wings are entwined with roses and he can't freely fly now (due to the fact that he never found his love)

Roses have grown through him, from the inside to the outside. They blinded him and they bring him pain. He will be freed from them only when he finds someone who will truly love him

He locked himself in a castle surrounded by a huge magical maze garden filled with various monsters and guards, which he created (By Vulnerable🌹hashtag you can find the rose creatures). Turning treasure thieves and all sorts of passers-by who were not lucky to get lost in his garden. He has resigned himself and staying in his castle, because after many years of unsuccessful searches (when he was still coming out of his shelter), he decided that the one who could get to him, after going through all the dangers that he created in the maze will be the one who could truly love him (although it is worth saying that there were those who got there, but turned out to be the scientist or people in search of treasures. Their fate was still the same - turned either into statues in the garden, or into animals, or into rose guards)

Despite the fact that he's slowly losing his mind from years of loneliness he's still as gentle and loving as he was before. Though he's easy to lose his compossure only when he's lied to. And he always knows if someone lying to him. His heart is very vulnerable, quite literally. He was deprived of love, compassion, kind words and gentle touch for so long. He falls in love carefully, afraid and unsure, almost shy, but he falls hard. Any lie shatters his tender heart into pieces, yet he grieves all those he ever had fallen for, even if they lied to him, even if they enraged him, even if they broke his heart and made him turn them into a part of his garden.

The reason why he became like this is a mystery, and no one yet have lived long enough to figure it out. But Basaman will never be free from his curse unless his true love will found him

And that is why I always draw him on Valentine's day :D

#original character #oc #terato #basaman #vulnerable🌹 #celestial being #love #angst

[fickleminder]

when you and i collide

After realizing that there’s no hope of getting Belphegor’s pact, you resign yourself to your fate.

Just a little climactic what-if scenario for Belphie stans :)

With a crackle of energy and a deafening pop, two figures materialize in the middle of a clearing and crash onto the forest floor.

Belphegor is on his feet in an instant, snarling at your crumpled form sprawled not far away. You’re slow to pick yourself up, too drained from teleporting two people at once without the Ring of Light to boost your powers.

This is for the best, you tell yourself for the umpteenth time. Solomon and the ring are back when they belong, and the other brothers won’t have to witness any of this.

“Any last words, attendant?” Belphegor spits, practically shaking with hatred and grief and betrayal. It's a burden he'll carry for centuries to come, and perhaps even centuries more. Both of you know nothing you say will spare you from his fury. You weren’t meant to change him; not here, not now.

(And if that’s the case, then you were never going home. Not when you had no hope of getting his pact at this point in time.)

“I forgive you,” you say, oddly calm for someone who’s about to die. Maybe you’ve already accepted your fate, or maybe you’ve long become numb to whatever the Devildom decided to throw at you. “And I hope one day you’ll forgive yourself too. I love you, Belphie.”

And then you open your arms with a smile, just like you did all those years ago in the attic.

It’s a shame that the last thing you’ll ever see is Belphegor’s face twisted with anger, fangs bared as he lunges for the kill. You close your eyes and sigh, wondering if he’ll go for your throat again—

A crack of thunder, the smell of ozone, and something — someone — rushes out from behind you, colliding headfirst with Belphegor, whose claws had been mere inches away from tearing into your flesh.

“Don’t.” Your eyes snap open. “Touch.” A familiar arm wraps around your waist. “My.” You’re being dragged backwards as two demons wrestle on the ground before you. “Human!”

“Belphie!” You cry in shock, watching as two Belphegors go at it, fighting tooth and nail to bring the other into submission.

“You have some nerve sending me back alone,” Solomon grumbles into your ear, physically stopping you from intervening in the brawl. “I may be immortal, but it turns out Thirteen has some tricks up her sleeve.”

Before you can even ask what the hell is going on, Belphie — your Belphie — stretches his tail towards you with an urgent call of your name. “Grab it, hurry!”

You do as you’re told, and his pact mark on your skin immediately flares to life, the final piece of your ticket home clicking into place.

“And that’s our cue to leave!” Solomon exclaims cheerfully, pulling you towards the portal they had emerged from. “Belphegor, disengage!”

“You’re not my master!” He yells back, landing a solid right hook on his younger self’s face before racing back to you. You’ve never seen him so alert before, not with the way he grabs your other hand and almost tackles you and Solomon into the brightly lit hole in reality.

The journey home is almost instantaneous, but as the three of you hurtle through time and space, Belphie’s tight hold on you is a promise of eternal devotion.

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me nightbringer #obey me belphegor

[someone-named-adel]

I took advantage of making a second part while my brain was still fresh with the idea

—Ugh, how long are we going to be like this Don- Mikey complained, throwing his hands up in the air.

—Yeah, I agree with Mikey, even though we look cute in April and MC's eyes, and we have more time with them now, it doesn't take away from the fact that it's annoying to be a baby all the time.

—I know, I know, I know, I know, but what do they expect me to do? Every time I try to find an explanation at least to this whole situation, April and MC come into my lab to try to get, at least, some information!

—I still don't understand guys, how come you thought this was such a good idea?

—That's the problem, my dear brother, these two fools over there didn't even think of it!- Donatello points to Leonardo and Michelangelo, who let out an offended "Hey!" in unison.

Raphael sighed —Well, whatever, if April and you find out the truth, the blame falls on you three, since you had the wonderful idea and I was just a victim in all this- Raphael points at his three brothers accusingly, leaving no room for any complaints.

Three voices were heard complaining in unison, but without refuting the words of the eldest turtle.

-Well, whatever, it's my turn to carry Aby- Leonardo approached Donatello, trying to take the stuffed turtle out of his hands.

-Don't even think about it, little brother, this stuffed animal fits perfectly in my hands and it's definitely NOT made for guys like you- Donatello said with annoyance, pushing the roughly made turtle stuffed animal away from Leonardo's hands.

—Guys, stop it, don't be childish for God's sake, we may look like babies now, but that doesn't take away from the fact that we are already mature people- Raphael said, separating Leonardo from Donatello, in a somewhat vague attempt to end the discussion.

As Mikey was about to say something to refute Raphael's comment, two distinct hurried footsteps were heard.

Quickly the door to the room they were in was flung open.

In the doorway, MC and Abril appeared, both looking tired and with sweat running down their foreheads.

—There you were, guys- April gasped, stumbling into the room.

—I told you we had to search our homes- MC spoke, shakily entering the room, taking baby Mikey, who was closest to the door, in their arms, and almost throwing theyself off as they sat on the edge of the bed with Baby Mikey in their arms.

—Why are You in the MC department? How did you get to their apartment? Do you know how worried we were when we didn't find you four in the lair when we woke up a couple of hours ago? Do you guys have any idea how terrified we were that something might happen to you out there in the street with all those weird people running around town? Were You guys even aware of the danger You four were in, especially now that you are babies?- April questioned and scolded in an accusatory tone as she pointed one hand at the four little turtles, resting the other on her hip, the four baby turtles ducked their heads and shrugged their shoulders more and more as April continued to scold them.

Sensing that they weren't going to get anywhere at this rate, April let out a resigned sigh, and calmly asked —Are you all okay?-

Receiving an affirmative to that, April took Baby Donatello in her arms and sat down next to MC on the bed, giving a few light taps on the side of it to indicate Baby Rafael and Baby Leonardo to sit next to her.

Heeding April's request, Baby Rafael and Baby Leonardo sat on the bed with they, only Baby Rafael went to April's side, and Baby Leonardo positioned himself in between her and MC.

I will write more tomorrow

Maybe

Or maybe in the next year

Who knows?

Everything comes and goes without rest

#yandere tmnt #yandere rottmnt #yandere teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere mikey #yandere leo #yandere donnie #yandere raph #yandere x y/n #baby turtle things in my mind

[thisisarcanereverie]

When the World Went to Shit (Joel x Reader) Chapter 8!

Joel Miller x FEM! Reader

A/N: this is a SPOILER WARNING, this contains spoilers from the series in general.

A/N: I am so sorry for the almost 1 year delay on this chapter life has been insane. If you want more details go to my Archive to see.

(All my other links to my masterlist and archive)

WARNINGS: Canon level of violence, swears, Joel is sad, talks of grief, PTSD, brief mentions of gore, Eventual Smut, pining (on both ends), grumpy idiots in love, reader is in her late 30's to early to mid 40's. Major character deaths. DISCLAIMER NO CHARACTERS/GIFS/PICS USED ARE MINE.

Summary: 20 years later after the world went to shit you, Joel, and Tess have to take 14 year old Ellie to the Firefly base outside of Boston QZ. What was supposed to be a simple plan turned into something much more complicated.

Prev. Chapter

It wasn’t long until Joel woke you up, you couldn’t have been asleep for longer than 30 minutes before you felt Joel’s hand gently nudge you awake. 

“Gotta go Doc,” you hear him say as you blink the blurriness away, “Trucks have stopped moving and we’re losing daylight.” With a grunt you accept his hand as he pulls you to your feet, ignoring the initial dizziness to suddenly being upright. Joel is generous enough to help you regain balance until he was sure you wouldn’t fall over, you tried to ignore how warm and worn his hands were, and how they seemed to fit perfectly within yours. 

“Just hold on to my hand,” Joel says, his eyes not leaving yours, “and try not to fall behind.”  you simply nod as your hand remained in his, not finding it in you to fight him on this. His bare palm was warm and rough against yours, now your hands weren’t soft by any means, but his were different. His had been rough for years, even before the outbreak from the army and hard work, however they felt safe to you, and that scared you more than you thought it would. 

“Alright,” you hear Joel say, “let’s go.” and with that you hurried out the door, his one hand gripping yours firmly while the other held onto the gun, ready to shoot if necessary. You three made it across the street and into a dimly lit alley, one that you probably would’ve avoided twenty years ago. It was there that Joel slowed down from a run to a brisk walk, and began looking around for what you assumed to be a door or window to climb through. It wasn’t long until you found one, the wall covered with graffiti and one door next to a vent. “Here,” Joel quietly pointed, as he rushed you and Ellie to the door. You let his hand go and leaned against the wall instead as he tried to open the door. You watched as Joel struggled with opening the door, fuck, it’s locked. You looked at the vent, it wasn’t too bad, it wasn’t too terribly small but neither you or Joel would be able to fit through there. A small sneeze alerted you to Ellie, who just stood there watching Joel get more and more violent with the door. You looked at Ellie for a bit, she was on the short and smaller side of fourteen; then you looked at the vent. Ellie was too short to reach it by herself but if you and Joel lifted her up then she could probably easily go through it. The only problem you could think of was that you didn’t know what was inside. There could be a clicker in there for all you knew or worse, other people. But as you look over to Joel who had made no progress with the door, you resigned yourself to the fact that there was no other choice. 

“Ellie,” you called over to her, you saw the young girl look at you and walk to your side. You pointed to the vent above you, “do you think you can fit in there and unlock the door?” 

“Yeah,” Ellie said with no hesitance, “but I’ll need a boost.” 

“Joel,” you call out for him, you see the peppered haired man stop before turning his attention to you, “I’m gonna need help boosting her up.” you see his face scrunch up in confusion at first before finally getting the picture. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. 

“There’s no other option,” you said, “she’ll be alright.” You hoped you sounded convincing, for the most part you were sure that she would be alright, Ellie was tougher than she looks. You knew that. Still though, you couldn’t help but worry a small amount, despite her loud mouth and the corny pun jokes that made even your eyes roll you’ve come to care about her (at least a little). 

Joel gave you one more look around to see if there was another way before sighing and walking towards where you and Ellie stood. “You’re sure you can help lift her?” He asked. 

“I’m a kid,” Ellie sasses, “not an elephant.” 

You swear you hear him say something under his breath before he gets on one side of Ellie and you on the other. He grabs her one foot and you the other as you both lift her up to the small opening, she was lighter than you anticipated. Once through the opening you see Ellie crawl before a silent thunk. 

“Ok,” you hear her say on the other side of the wall, “I’m in, I’m going to take a  look around first.” 

“Ellie,” Joel says, you don’t take your eyes off the opening but you can imagine the look he has on his face right now. The big brown sad look he gets in his eyes every time he’s worried, his knuckles turning white slightly from gripping the handle of his gun a little too tight in case he needs to use it immediately. It’s a thing you’re catching him doing more and more often. Suddenly you both hear a clanking sound from the door, as you take a few steps in that direction you hear him mutter a few curses before it opens to reveal Ellie, no worse for wear. 

“Where would you be without me?” Ellie smiles cheekily, you pretend not to see how Joel’s broad shoulders sag a little before moving past her. 

“By now Wyoming.” 

You chuckled a little before ruffling up her hair before moving past her, “you walked right into that one kiddo.” You hear her mutter something under her breath, not too unlike the man ahead of you before letting the door shut. The noise echoing slightly in what appears to be an abandoned garage beneath the building or perhaps this is where the maintenance workers worked you weren’t quite sure about it other than it had surely been ransacked and abandoned. You were not likely to find anything of use like food or ammo, something you were sure you were running low on by now considering all of your supplies were destroyed during the crash. 

You three make your way to what seemed the only door leading to the way out, B3-42 No Roof Access. 

“All right,” You hear Joel say beside you, “We’ll make our way up come morning, I’ll take a look at the city and find our way out.” the door creaked as it opened and a sense of dread filled you as you realized what you had to do. 

Fuck this. 

****************************************************************************************

Joel POV. 

His chest burns as it seems as Joel struggles to get enough air, everything hurts, even the places he had no idea could hurt. It didn’t seem like you were doing much better, you were struggling for air like him but at least it didn’t seem like your head hurt…just everything else. Fuck, how many floor had they made it up, 33? When did he get so old that climbing 33 floors feels akin to 200? He looks over to the smaller girl who, while being out of breath, didn’t look like it had winded her like you and him. It was slightly irritating, on a multitude of fronts none of which he would ever admit to. His back slid against the wall as he prays that he doesn’t have a heart attack before getting Ellie out of the city at least. He looks over at you, sitting against the wall half bent. You were breathing out before leaning back and breathing in and repeating. At first he had no idea what you were doing, and he knew that if he wasn’t so exhausted he would have had to force himself to look away from the sliver of cleavage that you bending down exposed or the sweat that made you glow somehow even in the darkness. 

“Doing this helps,” you say to him, looking over at him. “Exhaling while down helps get all the air out and inhaling while sitting up opens them back up.” he must have given you a look because you then added, “it was something I picked up while studying to be a nurse,” your eyes got a strange look while a sad smile graced your features, “it came in handy a lot when…when I went jogging before the outbreak.” He doesn’t know what you're thinking most of the time, something equal parts frustrating and intriguing…what he wouldn’t give right now to know. 

“Thirty three floors,” Ellie remarks, still standing, barely a drop of sweat on her, “that’s good.” 

Joel and you shared a look, one that clearly said. 

Damn youth. 

“It’s gonna have to be,” you said, voice still breathy,  “otherwise you’re gonna have to drag Joel and I up the rest of the way.” He sees Ellie make a face, if it wasn’t for the burning in his lungs he probably would’ve smiled. After a few more minutes of breathing he sees Ellie reach out a hand to him. 

“C’mon” she says and at this point he is pretty sure he would rather a clicker bite him than get up. 

“Gimme a minute”  he breathed, his legs still aching he was almost certain that if he stood up right now his knees would give out. 

“Get up, you lazy ass.” 

He looked at her for a minute, silently he wondered if she had a death wish, before accepting the helping hand. He could feel the creaking and cracking of his joints as he stood upright again. 

“Lazy ass” he groaned, turning to his right to see if you needed any help. Upon seeing that you’ve more or less recovered he walked past Ellie and continued. “I’m fifty-six years old, you little shit.” He hears Ellie laugh a little, he was willing to bet that if he turned his head around he would see you mocking him, and if he wasn’t so tired and ready to lay down and sleep for a couple of hours he would’ve. 

It wasn’t long until they came across a glass door, one easily broken by force. One swift hit from the but of his shotgun and it shattered, at least, it shattered enough for him to reach the handle without cutting himself on the jagged edges of what remained. He entered first, in case there was danger it would hit him first instead of you or Ellie; but after it was clear that there was nothing dangerous between the four walls of what appeared to be the living room of an abandoned apartment he felt a certain stiffness in his shoulders ease a little. While looking around he took a moment, just one…just to look at you. It was clear now that whatever affects the head injury caused had subsided, however, even after reassuring himself that you were fine he couldn’t find the will to look away from you. His eyes studied the way your hair swayed as you moved around, he didn’t care about the gray streaks–in fact he found each wrinkle, each sign of aging to be beautiful on you. You wore it well, age complimented you. He wondered, though, if things were different–if there were no such things as clickers or if the cordyceps never evolved, if he would still think the same way; or if he would think of you at all. 

“What now?” 

He blinked and turned his gaze away from you, he must be more tired than he thought. Lack of sleep can really mess with someone's head, Joel thought. 

“We will stay here for a couple of hours,” he said, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. “I’m going to scout out the rest of the apartment ... .it's a long shot but maybe there’s some supplies, see what you can find here."He was about to leave the room when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned to look at you, you who always seemed to study him as if you haven’t known each other most of your lives. 

“You should rest,” you said, “I’ll go ahead and look around, and before you argue I’m feeling better so don’t worry about me.” and with that you walked away, no room for arguments. He grumbled something intelligible even to himself when he heard you from the other room. “Go ahead and set up camp if you’re so antsy! “ it was amazing how you could tell exactly what he was doing without having to even look at him. He grumbled something else before gathering the cushions off of chairs and sofas, making makeshift beds on the floor, dust circling around them before settling back down onto the ground. There wasn’t much in terms of blankets other than what they had on their backs, but all in all they’ve slept in worse conditions before. Or at least, you and Joel had, to be completely honest, despite all of her talking Joel still knew next to nothing about the young girl that he was protecting. He knew she liked video games, and music, but most of all she seemed to like puns. Joel knew Ellie talked a lot and despite the million words per second that seemed to escape her, but how much of that was her saying something. He had some idea of what life was like for her back in the QZ, she obviously had a friend, but figuring by the way of her not saying much the friendship didn’t end well. With the current youth growing up in the midst of this futile war, they’re more violent (feral, really), they’ve got bigger mouths and moral compasses all askew, though he really couldn’t think of one person whose moral compass had never strayed from the straight and narrow even once since the outbreak. 

There’s really only enough cushions to make two beds on the ground, realistically one of them would have to sleep upright in the chair. Joel groaned as he could already feel the crick in his neck forming at the thought. But it would be better if it was him with the crick in his neck than you. 

You were taking  your time scouting out the rest of the apartment, or maybe it just felt that way to him, maybe you’ve only been gone for a few minutes but it felt longer to him. Everytime you’re out of his sight it feels like you’re a million miles away even though he knows otherwise. It was odd, this hold that you had on him, it hadn’t been there before, or at least he thinks it hadn’t. A lot has changed since leaving the QZ, you both weren’t exactly the same people you were when this job started, or maybe it just took this job to see what was always there? Joel wasn’t sure, and honestly, by the way his limbs ached as he gathered the bucket and grabbed pieces of shattered glass fragments he was too tired to think further on it. 

He had just finished setting the alarm trap when you appeared from the other room. 

“There were two cans of food and a blanket, other than that it seems like this place had already been scouted for supplies ages ago.” you placed the two cans of peas by Joel to open and handed Ellie the blanket while you assessed the camping site. He had just finished slicing the lid off of one of the cans when you turned to him. 

“So where is everyone sleeping?” You asked, not wanting to overstep or assume. 

“I’m sleeping right here on the chair while you and Ellie get the cushions.” Joel replied, handing the open can to you only to watch as you passed it to Ellie. That was the other thing about you that had never changed, even when the outbreak happened. You always thought of other people before yourself, sometimes Joel wished he could be more like that, other times he wished you were less like that. It would save him a lot of stress. 

“That’s ridiculous,” you objected, “I don’t see why you have to get a crick in your neck while we can both just lay on one set of cushions together.” the knife slips from his hand a little before readjusting his grip. 

“Someone’s gotta keep watch.” he excused, but already he could see your eyes practically roll themselves out of your skull. 

“It’s cold out,” you said, “I gave Ellie a blanket cause I figured she probably wouldn’t want to be huddled together with either of us for warmth–” 

“Good call.” Ellie agreed. 

“And it’s not like you and I haven’t slept side by side before, or huddled together for warmth. You set up an alarm trap, it’ll wake all of us up in case someone tries to kill us before sunrise. So quit with the excuses, eat some dinner and get some sleep.” 

There was nothing left to say, no more room for argument as you get the familiar stubborn look on your face that he’s learned to associate finality with. With a sigh he responded with the only thing he could, “Yes Ma’am.” 

Dinner had been quiet save for the scraping of forks against the metal tin of the inside of the can. Joel had shared his with you while Ellie had a can of her own. Both of you were used to eating half portions, though if he was honest, he had only a few bites while he let you have the majority of the cans contents. 

                   Soon enough all of you had laid down, the cushions were a little worse for wear, covered in years worth of dust and a little flat but it was better than nothing. No, it wasn’t the dust burning his eyes a little or the hardness of the floor that prevented him from sleeping. It was you, your back was to him but he could still feel you next to him, hear the gentle noise of your breathing and while you didn’t exactly smell like a bouquet of roses, you smelled faintly of sweat but the scent of the lavender and peppermint bar soap that you took from Bill and Frank’s still lingered. Joel fought back the urge to get closer to you, it was frustrating, he can’t recall the number of times he’s slept next to you and yet this was never an issue–well–he can’t really say that. There would be times when he would wake and find himself closer to you with your arm hanging loosely around his waist, he would pretend later on that those interactions never happened, or that he didn’t spend a good few minutes looking at you, watching your nose twitch occasionally and hearing your slow and steady breathing. Joel turned over until he was facing the door, careful with his movements so as to not disturb you. Joel felt silly–stupid–really, he needed to kill whatever the hell this feeling was, he was protective of you because you grew up together and were friends that was it. He couldn’t afford to have you be anything else despite what that letter to Bill had said. 

Joel tried closing his eyes and putting you from his mind, but once he finally managed to put you on the backburner Ellie came into mind. She was 14, Joel couldn’t even remember what he was like at fourteen except that he was punk. Always doing something he wasn’t supposed to do like smoke or sneak a swig of beer when no one had looked. Meanwhile here was Ellie, there was no doubt that she would be a punk too, skating after dark and probably stealing gum or something small from a convenience store. Instead she’s been forced to have a gun in her hand and had to learn to survive since she came into this world. She’s only fourteen and she went from being an ordinary person to the last hope humanity has to create a vaccine so that clickers become a thing of the past. A world without clickers…would Joel even want to live in a world like that? Was there a place for him in that world anymore? Without Sarah?...Joel didn’t like to think about how similar they were. Both funny and discerning and most of all brave. Too damn brave, too damn young. In a secret, awful way he was relieved that Sarah never had to be the one behind the gun but so damn angry to be the one in front of it. His mind brought him back to that look in Ellie’s eyes, that cold and angry look she said it wasn’t her first time shooting someone. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, trying not to wake you, “you up?”

“Yeah?”

“When we were talking’ bout hurting people…what did you mean it wasn’t your first time?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” There was an edge to her tone, one that clearly said to leave it alone. It was something he had to respect. 

“All right,” he gave in. moments of silence pass between them, the only silence was your soft snoring…still it ate at him so gently he rolled back over to see Ellie, who was looking at the ceiling. “You don’t have to, I’m just saying it’s not fair, your age…having to deal with all this…” he trailed off, fuck you were better at this than he was. He sees Ellie turn her gaze from the ceiling to him, brown eyes filled with a sadness that didn’t suit her age. 

“So it gets easier when you’re older?” 

“No,” he says honestly, “not really…but still.”  there was a pause, some silence between them. Honestly, killing never does get easier, it just becomes the choice you have to make in dire situations, but it doesn’t make it easier to live with. 

“The reason I asked whether you’d hear the glass or not earlier is cause I’ve noticed you don’t hear too well from your right side.” Ellie said, breaking the pause, “is it because you got shot there?” 

“Probably more from shooting.” he answers before turning himself in for the final time, “so if you want to keep hearing I’d stick to the knife.” he closes his eyes, once again trying to clear his mind from thoughts of you or Ellie or anything really. 

“Joel?”

He hummed in response.

“Did you know diarrhea is hereditary?” 

“What?” opening his eyes and wondering what the hell she was going on about?

“Yeah,” she said somberly before following up with, “it runs in your jeans.” 

It was an awful joke really, it shouldn’t have been as funny as it was but still he felt the laughter bubble up from his chest and shake him a little. It hurt a little, the sensation of laughter was something foreign to him now but still, it was pleasant. After that neither of them said a word, drifting off to sleep before they had to wake up and find their way out of this city. 

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Joel.”

He groaned

“Joel”

He groaned again. 

“Joel I’m gonna need you to wake the hell up right now but be calm ok?”

Slowly his eyes opened, and the first thing he saw wasn’t you but of a man, couldn’t be younger than 18  with a gun pointed at you and Ellie while another kid, couldn’t be any older than eleven stood over him, orange facepaint over his eyes as he held Joel at gunpoint. Shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#x reader #joel the last of us #tlou joel #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou smut #tlouedit #tlou spoilers #trending #ellie the last of us #joel miller x reader smut

[renaiswriting]

Whispers of Strength

Pairing: Xu Minghao/Reader

Summary: The idea of having your best friend tell you, "I told you so," once again was infuriating, but you were sick and he was all you needed.

Warnings: slightly angst (but like- barely, you won't even realize it's there) with soft/happy ending (?) | FLUFF

Word count: 4.2k

Masterlist

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A sneeze was heard loudly echoing through the walls of the darkened room. It was around seven in the morning, and you were still in bed. Your alarm had stopped dreaming about ten minutes ago, but you couldn't find the willpower to get up and start getting ready for your classes.

 The rest of the space shared with your roommate was awash in complete silence; there was no doubt that Minghao had left the bedroom a few minutes ago.

 Unwilling to turn on the light on your bedside nightstand, you fumbled with the surface of your nightstand, finding a used handkerchief that you had left there in the early morning after struggling to sleep.

 It seemed that no matter how much you blew your nose, one side of it was always completely unable to breathe.

 Around four in the morning, you gave up, opting to breathe with your throat (something that was completely uncomfortable because you're not used to breathing that way).

 After all, the cold air you had been exposed to the day before and the effort you had had to make to let oxygen into your body had ended up killing your throat, and now even breathing the smallest amount of air made you almost start crying.

 A new sneeze came violently through your body, shaking you completely as it left your organism. At the burning sensation in your throat, you closed your eyes tightly, accepting the discomfort with resignation.

 It was tiring; it felt as if thousands of knives were cutting the inside of your throat at the same time.

 The screen of the phone that had been charging all night on your bedside table lit up, revealing that Minghao had sent you a message.

 Minghao: You're on your way? I forgot my book for Economics III.

 If the idea of skipping class had even appeared for a millisecond, it was completely gone.

 I couldn't skip class now that Minghao had spoken to him.

 Because skipping classes would mean having to tell Minghao that she was not going to attend, and it would involve having to admit that she had made a mistake.

 Minghao had entered the same university as you in the same year. You had been studying the same major and attending the same classes from day one, but you hadn't seen or heard his name until you both found yourselves in the same dorm.

 Minghao had requested a roommate change due to having constant problems with the one he had before, and you, being forced to get a new place to sleep that wasn't expensive, had no choice but to sign up for the college dorms.

 Minghao had been the quietest person you had ever met, and that was a lot coming from you, who within three years had talked to, at most, about five people.

 Was it any surprise that you had never seen him? Not really.

Making friends has been an extraordinarily difficult task for you ever since you were a little girl. For many years, you forced yourself to try to meet different people and keep in touch with them, but you soon discovered that if you didn't write to them, they never did. 

And so you gradually began to drift further and further away from everyone, keeping only three friends who had shown that they cared about you as much as you cared about them.

 So, at the beginning of your university career, you had promised yourself to focus more on your studies than on making friends, so you went to class, took notes, and when you finished, you hurried straight to the library to continue studying in complete silence for another three hours.

 At first, living together was really awkward. Minghao didn't seem to know how to deal with you, and you didn't know how to deal with him.

 And it was even more awkward when you passed each other in class because neither of you knew whether you should greet each other or just ignore each other. 

Luckily, the relationship started to improve as soon as finals came around because both of you had a lot of studying to do and each of you had your own doubts.

 They began to meet in the living room, sitting late at night reading and rereading the same books.

 That's how they went from awkward roommates to roommates. 

Your friendship began to forge when Minghao found you sitting in the bathroom with the door open and your phone in hand, crying uncontrollably.

 That had been a bad week; not only were you extremely busy with all the group work and homework due in the various classes, but also the first exams had started, and you had failed one. So receiving a text message from your (at the time) boyfriend telling you that the relationship had come to an end was not in your plans, and as expected, the situation got the better of you.

 Minghao stayed by your side all that night, making you tea and watching those movies you loved so much, and he didn't share your feelings towards them.

 Becoming friends with Minghao meant that you had basically been adopted by the group of friends he had, and that meant that every two or three weeks they would get together somewhere to eat and take some of the stress out of college.

 And it had been one of those get-togethers that had brought about the current state you were in at those moments.  If there was one thing Minghao always took pride in, it was telling you how right he was with everything he advised you:

 "Don't drink five cups of coffee before you go to take your exam because you're going to feel like going to the bathroom the whole time."

 "Don't lend money to that person; you barely know them."

 "Don't put so much spice in that food; it will hurt your stomach."

 And in every one of them, he had been right.

 So, when Minghao looked at the weather on his phone and noticed the low temperatures, I sighed deeply.

 I had been thinking about wearing a certain outfit for almost a week, but it wasn't warm at all, and the solution of putting a jacket on top, which Minghao proposed, was not to my liking.

 "The cold is psychological." You spoke to the reflection on the other side of the mirror. From there, her eyes connected for a few moments with Minghao's, sitting on your bed.

 "And the fever you're going to get is also going to be psychological." Minghao responded by rolling his eyes. "Don't be stupid; you're going to get sick."

 "But you all look ugly!" I cried in frustration, walking over to my various coats and studying them one by one.

 "Wear one of mine," Minghao shrugged, too intent on what was happening on the phone in his hands, "it's not that much trouble."

 The topic wasn't touched on again; Minghao seemed satisfied with the 'I'll think about it later' answer, and you just prayed that miraculously the sub-zero degrees would disappear. 

 "Which one are you going to want?" Minghao asked, entering your bedroom with a knock on the door. In her hands, she carried three different coats, all black.

 "None," I replied, still finishing touching up my makeup, "thank you."

 Minghao frowned, "But it's getting five degrees below zero." Minghao reminded you incredulously, "What are you going to wear?" 

"I'm going to go like this; inside the restaurant, it's not going to be that cold."

 "Yeah, but in the ten-minute walk to get to the restaurant, it's going to be cold." 

"It's only ten minutes; how bad can it be?" 

Minghao rolled his eyes, muttering "whatever'.

 

 

 

It was worse than just bad.

 Even today, underneath the warmth wrapped around your body from the blankets, you could feel the cold you had experienced the day before.

You: Where is it?

You: "I'll be there in half an hour."

 Once again, you blew your nose; it was already red and burning every time the handkerchief touched the irritated area.

 You looked as horrible as you felt. 

You were just praying that the makeup would cover up any traces of discomfort.

 

 

 

 

Minghao was sitting in his usual seat; his hand was extended in the air, catching your attention.

 He had reserved the seat next to you so that the two of you could sit together.

 Your head was throbbing and your body felt weak, but you were determined not to let Minghao notice your condition. So you walked quickly to the seat next to his, pretending that the ragged breathing and sloppy movements were only because you were still tired and not because of the discomfort you felt.Taking a step felt like walking on the sand at the beach, only this one weighed about seventy pounds and stuck to your feet.

 "Did you bring it?" Minghao asked as soon as your body settled into the seat. You nodded in response, still not confident that your voice came out at all well. You had tried talking out loud in the bathroom before, and it seemed as if a demon was struggling to speak.

 You pulled a large book out of your backpack, relieving the bag of the extra weight it didn't usually carry.

 Minghao sighed in relief, stowing it in his own backpack.

 While he was distracted, you pulled out a handkerchief from inside your backpack, quickly wiping your nose, and hiding it back in your jean pocket in time to talk to Minghao. 

Luckily, Minghao filled much of the conversation, leaving you with the job of reacting or mumbling occasionally to his stories. 

The economics III professor entered the classroom, and everyone automatically fell silent. 

As the professor began to speak, you discreetly reached back into your bag and pulled out the pack of tissues you had hidden, realizing that the tissue you had grabbed earlier wasn't going to be enough for the rest of the class and that the professor had no intention of slowing down today's class just because you were feeling under the weather. 

The professor asked a question that your brain didn't pick up on at all; you just weren't there. 

Physically, you were there, but your brain didn't pick up on any of the difficult words your professor was saying. 

Your notes reflected it; they were a mess. 

You hadn't even managed to make a coherent sentence; most of them stopped mid-sentence because you couldn't keep up. 

Minghao looked at your notes, trying to find some word he probably hadn't been able to understand, but he frowned as he looked at your notes. 

This was unusual. 

Usually you even wrote whenever the teacher took a break or took a breath, so why were you a mess today? 

"I read this before," you excused yourself, "it's all in the book."

 Which you weren't too sure would do any good since you hadn't even touched that book in the last week, but Minghao seemed to agree with that answer as he quickly rushed to write down what the professor was saying.

Suddenly he stopped speaking, his eyes traveling to the faces of the students in front of him. 

You settled into your seat, sitting up straight and adjusting your posture. 

You could make out a cough forming in the back of your throat, so you quickly cleared your throat softly, disguising the tickle that threatened to trigger a coughing fit at any moment. 

Minghao looked at you with a worried expression. "Are you okay?" he asked. 

You quickly smiled at him, shaking your head. "I'm perfectly fine," you reassured him, your voice sounding louder than it really felt. "I'm still very sleepy." 

Minghao nodded, looking at your face for a couple of seconds before dropping the subject and turning his attention to the class. 

You reached for your water bottle, hoping that the cold liquid would help quell the feeling that you were about to start coughing. 

Taking a deep breath, you scolded yourself. 

It was just a cold; for God's sake, it wasn't the end of the world, and it was stupid how much it was affecting you. 

You stirred in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position to ease the persistent muscle pain.

As you attempted (and failed miserably) to keep your mind in the present, your brain was constantly repeating the same thing over and over again.

"He warned me about this; why was I so stupid? I should have listened." 

"Next time, I'll not be this stubborn..." 

"Just a little longer, I can make it through the day; just one more hour...  

The painkillers you took on your way to your class were not helping at all; it felt as if you hadn't taken them at all.  A sudden wave of dizziness washed over you; everything was moving.  You stopped writing for a second, until it got better.  Minghao turned to look at you, noticing you were not writing anything down. You send him a smile in return, forcing yourself to focus on the teacher's words and desperately trying to appear engaged.

The class finished with their teacher reminding them to read the next two chapters of their book for the next class.

"Shall we go home?" You asked, already rushing to the exit.

"Oh, Jeonghan asked to study together at the library this morning, and I told him we would be joining them, but if you don't want to-" 

"Oh, no, yeah! Yeah! Let's go!" You forced a cheerful smile, hoping your eyes didn't give away how dead you were actually feeling.

"You sure? They will understand if you want to go home." Minghao asked you once again just to make sure.  In response, you nodded, already heading to the library.  "Wait!"  Minghao rushed to grab your wrist and say, "We should eat something; I'm starving, aren't you?"

If anything, you were feeling like you were about to throw up because of how bad you were feeling.  but you nodded nonetheless. 

 

 

"You have barely touched your food." Minghao commented with a frown.  Today was slightly better than the day before; the sun was kindly warming everybody under its rays.  The group had agreed to move from the library to the concrete seats and tables outside so they could all have a small lunch and talk for a little bit before starting to study.

"I'm still kind of full from breakfast." You replied, your fork moving the noodles from side to side.

"Breakfast happened almost five hours ago; you can't possibly be full for that long." Minghao replied, at the same time that Jeonghan moved closer to you, his hand coming into contact with your forehead.

"You're hot."

"Thank you, I know." You replied, biting your lip seductively at him and pushing his hand away from your forehead with a smack.

Jeonghan's hand came back to your face, this time holding your chin and moving your face from left to right. "Your cheeks are red as well; I think you might have caught that virus that's going on around campus."

"What virus?" Mingyu asked. Your tallest friend was finishing his own lunch, liking his fingers, and eyeing the food you had in front of you.

"The one everybody is talking about, Seungcheol got it last week." Jeonghan replied. "He has been throwing up once every hour."  Minghao frowned, checking your forehead himself.

"I'm fine, just not hungry." You replied, pushing your food in Mingyu's direction.

"Nah-ah," he shook his head, "if you're sick, I don't want to have it." 

You tipped your tongue. "Such an ungrateful brat."

"I've got finals next week; I can't be throwing up!" He defended himself. "Trust me, if you weren't sick, I would eat it."

"You should probably go back home and sleep." Minghao suggested.

"I told you I'm fine!" You snapped, closing your eyes for a second to control your emotions. "I'm totally fine; I just want to study and get over it. Please"

Mingyu sighed, "Fine, but you're buying us coffee. If we're putting up with this attitude, this is the last thing you can do for us."

You bite your tongue, shutting down the need to tell Mingyu to go and fuck himself.  "Fine."

 

 

 

"Race 'til the bus stop! Let's see who gets there first!" Mingyu shouted, taking advantage of his long legs.

 It wasn't fair; in two strides, he had outpaced the others.

 Jeonghan started running as fast as he could, as did Minghao.

 You took a deep breath; your body was screaming for you not to.

 It was already under too much stress from whatever it was battling at the time (a virus or a cold, or at worst, both) for you to demand that it use what little energy you had left in a race.

 But you knew that if you didn't run, others would again insist that something wasn't right.

"I won!"  Mingyu sang happily; he was the only one standing up; Jeonghan was laying down on the ground, trying to catch his breath; and Minghao was sitting with his legs wide open, both breathing quickly.

"No shit Sherlock." You commented sarcastically, sitting next to Jeonghan. "At least give us a chance."

"I would usually do it, but today you weren't even trying." Mingyu frowned.  You rolled your eyes. Running has only made you breathe with your mouth, and the cold air that was entering your body only caused more harm.

"What do you mean?"

"You're sick." Minghao said calmly, "Just as I told you." He reminded you, looking straight into your eyes.

"I don't know what you're saying." You denied.  Minghao shook his head. Taking his own scar from his neck and softly wrapping your own neck with its warmth.

"Stop it; you sweated it!" You faked disgust.

"Stop acting like a five-year-old." He said it coldly.

You froze in your spot, stopping to try to take the scarf off your neck.

You could feel Jeonghan and Mingyu's eyes on your discussion. You felt your cheeks and eyes turning from pink to red in embarrassment.

"I don't."

"Yeah, you do," Minghao replied calmly. "I told you to wear a jacket, and you didn't."

"Stop acting like my dad." You complained, standing up as the bus started coming near the bus stop.

You went first, trying to get as far away from Minghao as possible, hoping that both Jeonghan and Mingyu would understand it and save your ass from Minghao's nagging that was just waiting for you.

 But of course, they were completely assholes and chose to sit together two rows behind both of you.

Minghao paid for his ticket, walking towards you.You avoided looking at him for the first five minutes, knowing he was looking at you—or the window, since both were in the same direction—in the reflection of the window.

"I'm sorry for reacting that way." Minghao whispered near your ear, not wanting the people next to them to listen to their conversation. "I didn't want to upset you."

You looked at his reflection for a couple of seconds before choosing the words you were going to use.

"I know," you started, turning to face him, "and I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

"If you were feeling that bad, you could just tell me; I would have given you my notes after class."

Minghao looked sad.

and seeing your friend sad made you feel sad.

"I'm sorry, it's just that the whole "I told you" thing is so annoying."

"But I did, in fact, tell you so."

 "I know!" You exasperated. "I know you did! You always do, and it's insufferable. For me, it is. I feel like I can't make any mistakes because, at first sight of them, you're the first one to point them out." You left it all out.

 "I don't." Minghao said, looking confused. "I didn't say that to make fun of your mistakes or anything like that. Never. I just want to point out that I did tell you because most of the time you just shut people down as soon as they say something you don't like, but sometimes you need to hear that."

 "You're stubborn, extremely stubborn." He continued. "And that stubbornness will get you hurt or sick sometime." Just like right now."

 Your emotions were all over the place, and now, at the slightly rice voice from Minghao, you were ready to boil your eyes out. 

Minghao saw your watery eyes, stopped talking, and painted his face with worry. 

"Don't cry, oh my god, I'm sorry, please don't cry."

Minghao wrapped his arm around your shoulders, awkwardly bringing you closer to his body, trying to comfort you by hugging you.

 "I'm sorry.  "I'm such a dick; you're already sick; please don't cry."

 You wanted to tell him that it was okay, that you were in fact mostly crying because of how horrible you felt and how exhausted, both mentally and physically, you felt, but instead, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting the tears run freely on your face and wetting Minghao's hoodie.

The warmth that Minghao's body emitted was comforting; it was like having your own personal sun. 

The sweet smell from his shampoo invaded your nose, making you feel safe in the familiarity of the smell.

 It was nice to let all the tears out. It was like finally acknowledging how awful you had been feeling since you woke up. 

It sucked. 

Minghao brushed your hair, cleaning your cheeks from the old tears. 

"We're almost home." He whispered, noticing that you were way calmer now that you had let everything out. 

You nodded, closing your eyes and focusing on Minghao's delicate touch on your hair, trying to come back to reality. 

The bus stopped, and you both went down, walking towards your shared dorm.

"I'll prepare you a bath." Minghao said, letting you take your time taking your shoes off.

 "It's okay; you don't have to."

 "I want to; it's my "I'm sorry for being a shitty friend" way to apologize."

 "But you're not a bad friend." You corrected him.

 Minghao smiled, disappearing into the bathroom.

 You went to your bedroom, looking for your favorite pajamas. The only thing you wanted to do was take a bath and sleep for the rest of the day.

 Minghao called you, letting you know everything was ready, leaving the bathroom all to yourself to enjoy the rose bomb bath he had.

 The water was warm, and it smelled so good.

 It felt so good in your sick body. 

Your muscles are finally relaxing.

 You stayed there until the water started to get cold, and as you started to get dressed, the smell of chicken soup hit you. 

Minghao was waiting with the table seated.

 "This is my mom's famous chicken soup," he told you, filling your glass with more water. "She always made me drink it whenever I was sick, so enjoy it; it's delicious."

 "Wow, he's so humble; he compliments his own food." You joked but tried it anyway, your empty stomach welcoming the food with eagerness.

 "So?   How's it?"   Minghao asked, looking attentive to your every move.

 "Delicioso!"   You answer in a terrible accent.

 "Is that Spanish?" Minghao asked, confused. 

"It's really, really good!" "It brings the Spanish out in me!"

Minghao laughed, saying, "There's more if you want; you should really eat well; you barely ate today."

You nodded.

He was right.

"Stay tomorrow; I'll take care of taking good notes so you can study later, okay?"

"But I'll feel better tomorrow."

Minghao rolled his eyes. "You'll go to class and spend two hours attempting to take notes while your mind is everywhere but the class; let your body and mind relax for tomorrow. It's just one day; it won't hurt."

You were about to start an argument, but you remembered the words Minghao told you earlier.

"Okay."   You replied instead, "But make sure everything's in Korean, please, or at least let me know in advance if there's anything in Chinese. I can barely deal with a second language while sick; I don't think I'll be able to deal with one I don't speak at all."

"Sure thing, let's watch a movie." Minghao proposed, deciding that it would be best to watch it in your bedroom, just in case you fell asleep.

"What do you want to watch?" You asked him while getting comfortable under the blankets.

"Whatever you want." Minghao replied, logging into his Netflix account from his laptop. "I'm fine with whatever." 

"Mean girls?" you asked.

Minghao nodded, watching the movie.

You knew Minghao wasn't a big fan of that movie, but you appreciated the fact that he was watching it with you. 

"I want to cuddle," you confessed; this was something your mom always did when you were a kid, and we're feeling particularly sick.

Minghao didn't say anything; he moved behind you, doing as you asked.

"Thanks."    You mumbled.

"Don't fall asleep; we haven't even gotten to the pink Wednesday part yet." Minghao joked.

 "Tomorrow is Wednesday; we should also wear pink." You said your mind was half awake, half asleep.

 "The only oink thing you're going to wear tomorrow is going to be your pajamas, but sure, let's do it." Minghao agreed.

 You smiled.

 Your eyes were burning from exhaustion.

 And without thinking twice, you let your kind shut down, allowing your body the rest it wished for the whole day, feeling safe in Minghao's arms. 

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfics #seventeen fic #xu minghao #xu myungho #minghao au #minghao imagines #minghao oneshot #minghao fluff #minghao fanfic #minghao #svt the8 #the8 fanfic #the8 #svt school au #svt reacts #svt react #svt au #svt imagines #svt minghao #seventeen au #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #seventeen kpop #minghao x y/n #minghao x you #minghao x reader

[childotkw]

Hi there Jordan! I was wondering - how would you do Lucemond modern AU?

Hello darling! I’d do reincarnation because I’m a basic bitch and it’d work so well. Let me explain -

Lucerys dies via Vhagar, and is reborn later in the timeline. Not sure when, maybe in the Blackfyre Rebellions, maybe at another time - but he’s reborn with his memories intact. His new parents are smallfolk, poor, but kindhearted. He realises it’s been a long time since his first life, and while a part of him mourns what happened to his family (mourns and screams when he hears what happened to his mother, to his brothers, to Daemon and his step-sisters, to their House and to their dragons), he also comes to accept that he’s no longer Lucerys Velaryon, whose only marked impact on history was his death and the war it caused.

He grows up, looking only passingly like his new parents and everything like Rhaenyra and Harwin, and makes peace with his new lot in life. It’s only when he’s approaching adulthood that he is confronted with a ghost.

His uncle looks much the same as he does in Luke’s memories, but completely different. Two eyes, for one thing, and more unhinged than Luke had ever seen him - even during their last encounter.

Aemond remembers too, and Luke - despite how a part of him longs desperately for his first family - refuses to speak to the man that murdered him, no matter how Aemond pleaded with (and later threatened) him.

He doesn’t care about the remorse and deep loneliness he sees on Aemond’s face. He doesn’t care that his uncle seems genuine and admits to missing him and regretting that night so many years ago. All he cares about is what Aemond had done to Luke’s family, and the country he had almost burned to the ground in his rage and grief.

He runs away from his home, slipping through his uncle’s grasping hands, and disappeared into the faceless crowds of Essos. Running from the legacy of House Targaryen and all the unnamed emotions Aemond brought up in Luke.

He dies after a decade, killed in a back alley fight by some assailant.

And he wakes up again, years down the line.

Life after life, a never ending cycle of history piling up in Luke’s head each time he is brought, sobbing and bloody, into the world.

Only three things remain consistent.

He is always born in Westeros.

He always looks the same as in his first life, regardless of his parents.

He always, always meets Aemond again (and he always runs, even though he doesn’t really want to).

By the time they reach ‘modern’ times, Luke is just so fucking tired. He’s sick of being reborn. He’s sick of watching the world change so drastically, and hardly ever for the better. He’s sick of growing to care for his new family and friends, of falling in love and having descendants that he can never approach in the next life.

He’s sick of knowing the truth of past events and watching how it’s twisted by present-day people. He’s sick of the memories. He’s sick of how…unmagical the world is now.

He’s sick of avoiding Aemond, of pretending that the two of them aren’t connected.

Finally, Luke decides enough is enough.

It’s always been Aemond that finds him. Always Aemond that approaches, half in hope and half in resignation, asking for forgiveness. This time, Luke takes the initiative.

He follows the subtle tug in his chest, that invisible string that entwines their two souls, and heads out the door.

But, naturally, the first time Luke searches for Aemond is the time he’s proving difficult to find.

But Luke’s tenacious and stubborn to a fault, and he eventually tracks his uncle down to a dig-site excavating the remains of a city from ancient-Westeros (and wasn’t that funny, he thought, that Aemond and he were probably older than anything they found in the dirt). Luke’s arrival throws Aemond for a loop, because his nephew had never sought him out, and never looked at Aemond with such quiet need before.

The two of them slowly reconnect, centuries of hurt still lingering between them, but for the first time in an age, they feel content.

So of course, that’s when they unearth the petrified dragon eggs.

And of course, as the last two remaining members of the Targaryen empire, they accidentally revive the blasted things.

And of fucking course the two of them now have to protect the dragons from a world that has long-forgotten the taste of magic while running from the people that want to use the babies for their own nefarious purposes.

Luke is adamant that this is all Aemond’s fault. Aemond’s just glad he’s got someone else around that knows how to speak proper Valyrian and can handle a dragon.

(And if a part of him is singing at having Luke finally, finally willingly at his side, that’s his own business).

#anonymous #HOTD #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucemond #new dawn AU

[onechicagolife]

ᴀʙꜱᴇɴᴛɪᴀ | ᴊᴀʏ ʜᴀʟꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅ

Detective Jay Halstead is a senior member of the Intelligence Unit, where he is partnered with Detective Hailey Upton after his former partner went missing undercover. While he never wanted to give up hope, the CPD assumed her dead and he was resigned to accept it. Now, two years later, Jay gets a sudden phone call with news that changes his life forever. Avery Clarke is alive. want to be tagged? link in bio <3

Chapter Nine

"Are we helping out on a case?" Avery directs the question to her boss, uncertainty only growing when he folds his arms over his chest and silently looks at Lang.

"Sort of," Agent Lang starts slowly, eyeing her skeptically before noting the impatient quirk of her brow. He clears his throat, "Actually, I'm here about your case. I want to talk about the last two years."

Her heart skips a beat in her chest, and she swallows, "What about it? Are you on the Volkov case?" It's been weeks since her return and they officially lost the case again, not even being told which agency had it. Every single time she or Hank have reached out for an update, they've been stonewalled. She's tired of being frozen out, but if the case is being handled by the DEA instead of the FBI, maybe her connections can finally get them somewhere.

"I'm part of the DEA task force," Lang carefully pauses. He knows her well enough to prepare himself for the temper she occasionally exhibits. "And so were you."

A sharp inhale cuts through the thick silence that follows, Avery blinking with furrowed brows as she attempts to process the admission. How in the hell was she part of a federal task force when it wasn't even a federal case two years ago? Hank can sense the shock and confusion coming from the detective, so he steps in, setting aside his own shock, "What do you mean, she was part of the task force?"

"You weren't missing," the agents starts, "You were undercover, for us." Unable to believe the words coming from the man's mouth, Avery turns on her heels and begins to pace in the small space, dragging her fingers through her hair. She closes her eyes and tugs harder at the tangled strands, as if the pain might magically cause the memories to resurface. At her lack of response, Lang continues with what he knows, "After your cover was blown, they held you for interrogation. They tortured you for weeks. Beatings, electric shock, sensory deprivation. But you never broke. Actually, you convinced them that you were who you said you were — Talia — and that you and a few others were planning on betraying the Aleksovs. The wire was so that you could use the information for yourself.

"They believed you. I still don't understand how you did it, but you gained their trust and struck a deal. In exchange for your life, you'd give them everything they needed to take control of the Aleksovs' operations. After almost three months, you got them to trust you enough to let you go on the promise that you'd work for them. By this time, the FBI had taken the case from Major Crimes, and we were planning on officially making a task force. They had an undercover, very low level but had his ear to the ground. Once Nikolai Volkov successfully used your information to dismantle the Aleksovs, there was talk about a "beautiful woman" that got caught with a wire but was able to charm Nikolai with her business savvy and flexible loyalty. We started to suspect it could be you."

Having heard enough, Avery finally interrupts, shaking her head in disbelief over what she is hearing, "No. This doesn't make any sense. If I somehow 'charmed' them enough to let me go, why didn't I contact CPD as soon as possible? Why didn't I call Hank?" She glances to the older man as his name falls past her lips, desperately searching for any kind of answer in his eyes. But she only finds that he is just as unsure as she is.

Lang folds his arms across his chest, "We had agents waiting at the locations we knew about to intercept you at first chance. That's when you and I connected for the first time. I gave you my pitch: no one has ever gotten as deep within the Volkov organization as you had the chance to, Avery. And if you left then, they'd think you were betraying them. They'd come after you and they wouldn't stop. So, you agreed to go back in as part of our federal investigation long enough to help our undercover agent rise higher up in the ranks. You'd have to stay 'missing' for just a couple months, so that you could get out without raising suspicions and set us up to take them down. Do you remember Special Agent Anderoff – Jim – from the task force a few years back? He became your main contact. After a few weeks, you found evidence of something bigger. Turns out, the Volkovs have been trafficking in more than just guns and drugs."

"Women," Voight realizes gruffly, and her blood runs cold.

Lang nods, "And girls. Some as young as twelve, and we had no idea. You couldn't walk away."

A warehouse full of cages flashes behind her eyes before being replaced by the cold, battered body of Nadia. The image of her teenage self, high out of her mind and pressed down against a dirty couch.

"We thought that by taking the case from the CPD, it would stop the investigation into your disappearance. And it did, for a while. But Detective Halstead never fully stopped looking into things, and one lead he was following started to get close to you. If we hadn't planted faulty intel, he'd have ended up getting himself or you killed." She exhales a breath, facing Lang and meeting his eyes for the first time in minutes. "Avery, it was your idea to fake your death. You knew that Halstead would never stop looking for you so long as there was some shred of hope that you were still alive. We planted some seeds about a woman matching your description having been killed, and after a little bit of pressure on the deputy superintendent, they had you declared dead."

No. "You're saying..." There was no way. "You're saying that I chose this?" Her voice shakes as she forces the words out, a painful sting starting to build in the pit of her stomach. There was no way she would let her friends and family think that she was dead... Would she? To protect them, to protect Jay?

Avery blinks back the tears that begin to well in her eyes, deciding that right now, something she can focus on – something she can control – is anger. "Why now?" she grits out, taking a step towards Lang as her volume continues to rise, "Why come to me now, when you've known what happened to me this whole time?"

"I wanted to," he tries to assure, "As soon as we found out what happened, I wanted to. The decision was made way above my paygrade. When the agency heard about your memory loss, they decided it was better to keep you in the dark. Your cover was likely blown but you... well, they thought you would want to go back in to finish what you started. I finally managed to convince them to let me come see you today." Lang shuffles around a few things in his bag before pulling out a manila file folder. He extends it towards her, "You're not an agent, so this is as much information that I could get them to hand over."

Avery eyes the much-too-thin folder with a scoff, "What, I don't have clearance to read about my own life?"

When she stubbornly refuses to take it from his outstretched hand, Lang sighs and sets it on the edge of Voight's desk instead, "I'm sorry." With no response other than a stiff nod from Voight, Lang offers another apology before leaving the office.

A soft thud echoes as the door closes behind him and Avery brings her palms up to press into her eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling and stifle the burgeoning headache. "This can't be real," she mutters as she shakes her head.

Hank picks up the folder before flipping through the pages, eyes skimming over its contents. "There's photos," he confirms, "It's your signature on these reports."

She doesn't believe him. Avery snatches the file from his hands but can't bring herself to look at it herself. She can't believe him. There's ringing in her ears and pounding behind her eyes, and the air is suddenly so thick that she struggles to take in a complete breath. Spinning on her heels, she wretches the door open and storms into the bullpen, immediately feeling the weight of seven pairs of eyes. One pair in particular burns at her skin, and she fights the urge to meet them. Stepping quickly to her desk, she rips her jacket from the back of the chair.

Hank calls out her name from the doorway of his office to no avail. "Detective Clarke," he says firmly, raising his voice in a way that causes her to halt in her tracks halfway across the room. "Just take a breath, we'll figure this out."

Clenching her jaw tightly to fight the sob clawing at the back of her throat, Avery glances over her shoulder at the older man, "We? There is no 'we,' Hank. Apparently, I made sure of that." With that, Voight watches without objection as she rushes down the staircase. He doesn't know what he could possibly say to stop her from leaving, to stop her from spiraling, when he is just as lost for words. As he turns to head back into his office, he spots Ruzek stand from his desk out of the corner of his eye. "Don't," he orders, and Adam halts his stride, "Let her go."

This cannot be real. This cannot be real. This cannot be real.

She doesn't know how long she's been sitting here, alone in her car. The sun has already traveled across every window, shining through the glass and bouncing off the pages now sitting beside her. Avery stares straight ahead, but her eyes blur everything out. Reading the words on those pages — her words — was supposed to give her some answers. Answers other than what she was told: that she chose to let everyone she loves think that she was dead.

But they were her words, and the proof that she was undercover for the DEA was right there in black and white. And she knows that vowing to put an end to a sex trafficking ring is something she would do. After what happened to Nadia, she would never let anything like that happen to another girl if she could help it. The last two years started with torture and pain before being spent gathering intel, arranging deals, and sabotaging whatever she could. The information has allowed her to construct images in her head, rebuilding the memories she lost, but there are still gaps between the reports she was given. She can feel it in her gut that there is something missing, something important. Something that she needs to remember.

She has lost everything. She lost two years of her life, two people she considered family died without her being there. She can understand staying undercover, sacrificing her normal job and life. But if she made the choice to fake her death, that means she chose to sacrifice the man she loves. That means that everything that's changed, the way things are now, is her fault.

The sound of a car horn pulls Avery back to reality, and she blinks away the tears clouding her vision. She hadn't even realized that she was crying as she wipes her cheeks with the backs of her hands. Taking in her surroundings, her eyes land on the bar across the street from where she's parked in front of her new building. After staying with Hank since her return, she decided it was time to get back to normal by looking for her own apartment. She has still been at the home she grew up in, though, until she gets actual furniture besides the mattress still in the plastic resting on the floor.

Avery stares at the bar for a few minutes, watching the people that walk in while it's still light out and contemplating whether she should be one of them. She knows that she shouldn't go inside. She knows that she should go back to work. She knows that she shouldn't let the contents of that file drive her into a spiral.

She goes inside.

Avery sets down the box filled with the rest of her clothes, taking in the furniture finally set up in the bedroom. A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips, relieved that she has an actual bed to sleep in instead of the mattress she's been crashing on the last few nights after stumbling home from the bar. She walks back into the main area of the apartment, smiling wider as Kevin finishes mounting her television and Adam adjusts the couch. Avery narrows her eyes as she watches Kim playfully throwing cushions at him to set up, their laughter filling the apartment. "Thank you guys again for helping me today," she gushes.

"Stop thanking us," Kim laughs, "You know we're happy to help." She moves to head to the bathroom, squeezing Avery's hand with a smile as she passes.

Avery watches until she is for sure out of earshot before slowly making her way towards Adam with a smirk. He plops down on the couch with a sigh before spotting her, eyeing her warily, "What's that look for?"

"What's going on with you and Kim?" she counters with a raised brow. He rolls his eyes and throws his head back with a groan. Pointing an accusatory finger, she chuckles, "I knew it. You're hooking up again."

Adam can't fight the smile that creeps up, giving a half shrug, "Maybe."

"Maybe," she mocks as she sits down next to him, earning another eye roll.

They spend the rest of the afternoon hanging out, eating pizza and watching the game on her freshly set up tv. After a few hours, Avery bids them goodbye and starts unpacking her clothes until she can't ignore the itch anymore. She grabs a glass from the kitchen, pouring drink that ends up containing a hefty amount of vodka and just a splash of soda before heading back to the bedroom. She moves over to the window that she managed to turn into a makeshift crime board. Opening the panels, Avery stares at the photos and pages she taped up days ago. She knows that there is way more to the story of the last two years, and she is going to figure it out. Agent Lang was right. She is going to finish what she started.

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#jay halstead #jay halstead x oc #jay halstead fanfiction #chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #story: absentia #gifs are not mine: ask if you would like yours removed

[izvmimi]

WSB (and WSHB) - Chapter V

cw: serious melodrama (kdrama level tbh).

Masterlist

The car stops in the parking garage just outside of the Hero Agency, and there’s a pause as Tessa turns off the engine, then glances at you, twisting her mouth to the side. She’s been trying very hard to be supportive the entire drive here, you can tell by the way she grips the steering wheel, but she clearly is not on board with this decision in the slightest.

She sighs and you brace yourself for the scolding.

“I still don’t think you should be doing this just because of Midoriya.”

Tessa turns to you, a pout on her lips in anticipation of your defense. Instead you offer none, opening the car door and making your way out, your letter clutched in your hand. Annoyed, she follows you into the building, crossing the distance quickly. There are a few interns that watch with bated breath as they see you enter, before one has the good manners to wave and give you a warm welcome. You continue to march straight to the supervisor’s office, to ensure that your resolve doesn’t waver. Your heart thumps repeatedly in your chest, as fast as Tessa’s footsteps behind you.

“Don’t do this,” she says again, more like a plea.

I was never meant for this stuff anyway. Midoriya has been dragging me along since high school, you want to say to her. The back of your eyes start to burn and you shake your head to prevent tears from forming. A formal resignation should be professional, not dramatic.

It’s not because of him anyway, you repeat to yourself in your head. You need to devote more time to the clinic, where you belong and it doesn’t help to constantly have your phone buzzing with assignments. They’d probably end up firing you first anyway.

Tessa mutters something under her breath about being lonely at work and you consider rolling your eyes, knowing full well that she and Bakugou are doing more than just having lunch at their joint lunch breaks. It must be nice to be loved unconditionally and without reservations, you want to say, the rest of us have to -

“Tenten.”

Your heart stops and you turn involuntarily towards his voice. Izuku now stands by Tessa, and he looks absolutely awful.

Not in a physical way, of course. Izuku is always unnervingly handsome, especially in his form-fitting costume, and his green locks are tousled in a way that you’ve always thought was cute since you met him years ago. But there’s much less charity behind his eyes, like he’s seen enough in the past few days and is tired of it all, and there’s a subtle but genuine pallor behind his freckled cheeks. His lips are pressed thin.

How dare he look more upset than you? you think indignantly.

“What?” You can’t help but hissing. It’s the first word you’ve spoken to each other in over three months and it’s said harshly with venom that’s accrued over the weeks. Yet somehow it’s also stale, without bite, as though the poison has lost a bit of its potency.

Nevertheless Izuku flinches for a moment at your reply, as if he’s no longer used to your voice. Or maybe just not in this way. You were crying when you broke up, not angry. He opens his mouth and closes it.

“Can I help you?” You press again, your fist clenching around the envelope in your hand. Izuku’s eyes travel to your right hand then back to your eyes.

“I want to talk to you,” he says slowly and deliberately.

Something turns in your stomach.

“I have to do something first,” you insist. Quit the premier Hero Agency in the country and kiss this nonsense goodbye.

“Please let’s just talk first-” Izuku steps closer and reaches for your arm and -

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Your voice comes out in a shrill cry that surprises even you. When you look back at him, that same pallor subtle in his cheeks is now full blown, and his skin is almost paper white. You can see him swallow hard and your heart sways just a little for him at how embarrassing this might be for him. There are eyes all over you that aren’t just Tessa’s, but the rest of the agency which probably knows how Pro Hero Deku has utterly shamed you on top of the betrayal. Maybe you feel a little less bad.

Your eyes dart around. It’s almost 9 am, Tessa shouldn’t be standing here, she should be going to the Monday morning debrief. These pencil pushers shouldn’t be gawking at the three of you, watching you shake as you compose yourself and making judgements and opinions they can sell to reporters. If someone pulls out their phone, you swear you’ll end up in jail.

Izuku shouldn’t be here either. He should be off with Tessa to hear the roundup of the intel gained last week so that this week goes smoothly. He rarely frequents this end of the building anyway, where Human Resources and the rest of the administrative people live, reminding this company that they’re truly just a company at the end of the day

You were supposed to be in and out, and now you’re causing a scene.

“Please.” Izuku repeats, his voice cracking. It’s smaller than you remember ever hearing it. His hands are now nervously clasped together to remind himself not to touch you. There’s a part of you that absolutely does not want to hear out anything he has to say but another part of you misses him terribly.

You’ll probably regret it.

---

True to the finely polished professional he is, Izuku starts off exactly as you expect him to.

“I’m sorry.”

You sit perfectly still in your chair across from him in a too-sunny corner of the one of the outdoor break spaces, trying to control the welling up of emotions in your chest. Unlike within the confines of your workplace just earlier, this location is a lot more open and you’re more acutely aware of your surroundings. Embarrassing yourself and/or crying will only be more fodder for the tabloids; speaking to him in public is already too much of a risk.

His words come out far too sanitized to account for the pain you feel and bile rises in your throat. However, you smile at him in a way that’s unnerving, more a baring of the teeth than anything else.

“What for?” You ask, sweetly. Your hands grip gently at the fabric of your slacks as you wait for him to reply. You don’t want an apology. You want him to take all the hurt back, which would mean he and you and her and everything that entangles you three just ceasing to exist.

“Everything,” he says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie through clenched teeth. You should really stop trying to smile. Izuku makes a sudden movement, as though to reach for your hand, then reconsiders. However you catch the action and it makes your stomach turn.

The two of you sit in silence, as though in a standoff, deciding where to go next. This - whatever this is - could end in tears, or screams, or worse, depending on the words either of you use next. Izuku is always slightly more controlled over his emotions than you are, but even he has his limits, and he has wanted to scream for the past week knowing that you, somewhere, were hurt enough by him to run into Shoto’s arms. He’d even tried to call after weeks of polite silence, only to realize you’d blocked his phone number and any other routes of social media. If you’d allowed him to know where you lived now, he would have shown up at your doorstep days ago. He could still do so, but to admit that you’ve cut him out so cleanly he’d have to ask someone where you lived… he had some pride.

He says, “I didn’t mean to-” and you lose all sense of restraint. You rise so quickly the chair tips over backwards, but does not fall, and you hiss back at him.

“You accidentally fucked her? You accidentally made a child?”

You can see Izuku’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Angry tears prick at your eyeballs.

“Who says I’m hurt, you piece of-” You bite your lip, holding back a sob. Your body is starting to shake and you need to leave. But your legs won’t work, and you’re pinned to the very ground you stand on. You need to quit and go home and compose yourself and launch yourself back into your work and apply to that fellowship and-

“I love you,” he croaks out.

The words stun you still, and you look at him gaping like a fish. He takes a deep breath that you can hear run through his body but as he exhales you can see his eyes start to redden too, and his next words also crack ever so slightly under pressure.

“I-I never stopped, I don’t know what to do either, I wish it hadn’t happened, I-”

The hard slap you deal across his face has him speechless.

The two of you pause as you shake out your wrist and consider hitting him again. He stares at you in complete shock, watching as hot, angry tears run down your face. You look hideous in all your anger, the red under the hue of your skin and your face twisted in rage. He raises his hand to his cheek slowly as he watches you tremble, almost in disbelief of the sting in his cheek. You would never raise your hand against someone purely in anger, no one, especially not him.

“You…” you inhale deeply, “... don’t do this to someone you love.”

His voice is barely a whisper again.

“I’m… sorry…”

He begins to cry, for real this time, and you want to kick him in the groin so hard he can never reproduce again but also hold him close to stop the tears because you love him but your own won’t stop flowing.

In that moment, you are just two grown human beings. Professional Heroes. Crying in broad daylight like children, over problems that only adults can have.

And in that moment, you wish you were teenagers again, a boy and a girl who have just met, introducing yourselves to each other politely as classmates and expecting no more than collegiality. To graduate and to chase your dreams.

To do anything but hurt others, or each other.

---

You didn’t end up resigning that day. Instead you drove to the nearest park, got out of your car and started running.

You ran for so long, trying desperately to clear your head, that by the time the sun beat overhead, it had been over an hour you’d been on the trail, and exhausted, you dropped down on the beaten path, breathing heavily as you lay in a heap.

Izuku loves you.

He said it with his own mouth, and you know he wouldn’t lie.

Your pants turn to coughs and sputters as you swallow wrong, and you sit up quickly, but you pull your knees close to your chest and sit by the side of the road, willing yourself to keep running, or at least to get back to your car.

Izuku loves you still.

And you love him.

You love him so much it hurts as much as your lungs do right now, begging for air.

But despite loving you, you’re still where you are right now.

You don’t want to love him back, not at all. Not when all you can think of is Ochaco under him and him holding her, kissing her, cumming inside her, creating a life.

You want to vomit. Their child would be so cute. Rosy red cheeks and green, maybe brown curly hair? Freckles? A baby who always laughs?

Is it laughing at you? It’s an awful thought to think of, the three of them as a happy family, and you, alone, loveless, a poser. Someone who constantly and consistently flew too close to the sun. After all, since high school, Ochaco had always been the better option.

Plus, she had always loved him first. Things were just balancing out the way they were supposed to. Maybe it was a weird sort of twisted karma for stealing him away all these years.

You sigh and stretch out your arms. The grass is warm underneath you, and you dig in your hands to the soft soil, and remember not to tear out the blades. Your fingers uncurl.

It will be okay.

#izuku x reader #shoto x reader #thoughts: izuku #thoughts: shoto #daydreams: bnha #mimi writes: wsbwshb #mimi's notes