#i am frazzled glimmer

[anantaru]

Hellooooooo

I was wondering how would Alhaitham and Ayato would react to hearing the safe word in the middle of the act? Like they pushed reader's limits, they seem to be pretty rough and demanding in bed and that's kinda scary sometimes

cw. after saying the safe word, a lil angst, fem! reader, heavily comforting you

ayato, who would— and such goes in the generality of standings, without stating, express leaden depicted signs of embodied guiltiness for turning you, his darling, he devotedly treasured, this uncomfortable and hurting during an endearing time where he should've coddled you with a sundry of effusive pleasure.

conceivably, ayato might've fell in to be inordinately rough tonight as he was severely frustrated from his own bottled up emotions— one of the leading factors being the tracked down obvious that he hasn't seen you nor spend sufficient time with you in what felt like plentiful years.

his troubled breath was stranded immovable in his glued down throat upon listening to you suddenly cry out the safe word he was sure would never be used by any of you— to proceed, ayato had directly pulled out of you, the touch cautious, as controlled as possible as to not dispense any more damage before really saying anything, he can barely marge his eyes on you and it broke his heart that he was the reason you experienced pain— when he should've loyally lavaged you with nothing but pure comfort.

supplementary he puts forth your name in a tottery declare and then staggers through his frazzled breathing, "are you okay, please— please take your time." ayato eases himself back into this pivotal situation, but he will not touch you, he keeps his hands away from you. "i apologize with my entire heart— i did not mean for this to happen." as to bring grave attention in his sentence, he closely whispers an inch lower, soothingly, "i am so so sorry."

ayato will wait a fair enough of much required time, additionally giving you copious reasonable space before you, yourself, have allowed him to come close again. His glimmering eyes fall to your bare, trembling body as to calmly throw a silky blanket at your naked frame to have you a sprinkle more shielded and protected as well as have your body heat rise up again.

while you aided him to lean back into your arms, ayato breaks apart from within, bit by bit, his body was stilling and sheened of cold sweat, but it's about patience now— and he knows, he has to keep a clear head as always, he mustn't let his emotions run free.

"it's okay ayato." you close your arms around his neck and it almost brings him to tears— such spoken tears that he originally severed off himself earlier, the same way he had done so his whole life.

"it is not, i should've known better."

family was everything to ayato and you were a part of his. On this ending night he had done nothing more than to spoil you and apologize a handful more times, you let his warm palms seep into your gladdened skin and your eyes flutter close of the heavy tiredness— you realize he was warm but his breathing sounded patched together, even though he tried to hide it endlessly.

alhaitham, whose flexed up muscles loosened up the immediate wounded second of your excruciating voice thickly closing around his ear shells. This uncomfortable weight on his chest, or the penetrating shock in his eyes, he was aware that he unarguably went overboard this night, for certain, and promptly backed off your tremulous body without accidentally creating added problems.

with how he had been largely shadowing over yourself, he could easily perceive the state of your low lidded eyes— your vision had turned entirely blurry which was the straight up cause of warm tears simmering from each twist of your eyes.

"do not rush yourself." not at all did alhaitham appear as confident and collected as he usually was, "i apologize - i apologize, i don't know what—" your hard processed breaths overwhelmingly shook at each explosive word of him, it was demanding for you to state something, taxing on your emotions while at the same time cloaking back your cried which he had fortunately discerned himself, then stopping in midst his own sentencing, yet cursing himself.

it's not as if alhaitham doesn't want to do anything, all he craved for was to enclose his large arms around yourself and apologize once more— though he does nothing, not for now at least, he waits until you do something instead, after all, crossing your boundaries again would be the last thing he had in mind.

"can you-" he noiselessly jolts back when detecting your broken voice in the dim room, you mutely wrap your hand around his wrist, "can you please .." and he knows what you meant, in the wake of it, it wasn't back breaking to see through your quavery ways of stating.

he crumbles next to your body and closes his arm around your waist, your eyes were swelled up and with one gentle palm he shushed away the wetness on your cheeks, but remained careful in his proceedings.

"i'm sorry." you shake your head at his strangled heaves, applying yourself up forward into his chest, "it's okay." - "i know you would never hurt me on purpose."

but even with your presented reassurance, his heart burned, he huffs his warm breath on your forehead and presses his lips on your head, his hands in process of moving unsure on where to wavelessly rest themselves on. "it will never happen again."

he recollects himself, his words holding all meaningful purpose behind them, "i know." you smoother yourself further into him, systematically calming down more and feeling yourself back into his body.

"you're everything."

©2023 anantaru do not share, copy, translate any of my work

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #ayato x reader #ayato smut #alhaitham smut #al haitham smut #al haitham x reader #ayato x reader smut #alhaitham x reader smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin drabbles #genshin imagines

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Knowing the Steps

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words:3566

Summary: Keeping your relationship a secret can have its excitements, but during a ball, you wish you could be open about your love. Aramis tries to make it up to you.

Notes: Not going to lie, this was definitely inspired by watching Santiago as Count Vronsky. The dancing scene just made me melt! Anyway, I thought he deserved another fluffier piece since I write a lot of angst and drama for my musketeer boys. This ended up being a bit more bittersweet than I thought, but I like how it turned out. I also wrote this at work, so be warned, it’s definitely a little frazzled. 

More Musketeers HERE

-

Dazzling fabrics caught candlelight with every sway in the dance. Music swelled. People laughed merrily in their conversations around the room. For most, it was a beautiful scene of joy and prosperity. 

You, however, couldn’t be more bored. 

“And when we arrived back at the manor, why I don’t think there’s been a grander celebration in all of Paris,” some lord you couldn’t be bothered to learn the name of boasted. He looked to your cousin, and bowed. “Other than yours, of course, your majesty.”

“Well, I have to say I will be very disappointed if I am not invited to the next, monsieur,” the king jested, looking around to make sure everyone laughed. 

You forced an amused, airy sigh and wished for an excuse to leave. In your disinterested perusal, your eyes caught the glimmer of a hilt and the slight motion of a feathered hat. Suddenly, the party didn’t seem so boring anymore. 

The musketeer standing guard at the other end of the room caught you looking in his direction, bowing his head as a sly smirk spread across his lips. And, for the first time that evening, your smile was real. 

The person beside you cleared their throat, nudging your side gently. You jolted out of your daydreaming, relieved to find it was only Anne.

“Admiring the tapestry, hm?” She teased, motioning to the sewn decoration hanging above the group of musketeers. It was huge, gaudy, and far too elaborate to make any sense of, but you nodded as blush rushed to your cheeks.

“Yes,” you gulped, “It’s quite…. Um…”

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” She snickered. 

You both had to contain your laughter, even covering your mouth with your hand to keep from squawking like a bird. Still, the sound must have traveled across the room for you could just see your musketeer grin over at you before turning to his companions. 

Anne followed your gaze and smirked. 

“Ah,” she mused.” Aramis.”

Your face reddened even more. “Who? I’m sorry, I don’t know who you’re referring to, your majesty.”

“Between the two of us,” she leaned closer to you, “he’s always been my favorite.”

This time, you weren’t quick enough to conceal your laughter and an embarrassingly loud snort rang throughout the room. Anne nearly doubled over. You were sure you had to be the color of a tomato by now.

Across the room, Aramis put a finger to his smirking lips, whispering,

“Shhh.” 

Aramis winced as a hand swiftly smacked the back of his head. 

“Why not be a little more obvious. I’m sure the king will appreciate you displaying your relationship with his cousin,” Athos scolded. “Go ahead. I’m not sure he’s noticed yet.” 

“I think he’s busy frightening courtesans into laughing at his jokes,” D’Artagnan scoffed. 

Porthos nodded. “Besides, the queen’s definitely noticed by now and hasn’t ordered your execution yet.” He smacked his friend on the shoulder teasingly. “So it must be alright.”

“Don't’ encourage him,” Athos sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Either of you.”

“But Athos,” D’Artagnan said dramatically, putting a hand on his heart for emphasis. “He loves her.” He and Porthos snickered like school girls. 

Aramis rolled his eyes. 

“Mock all you want,” he said, glancing back in your direction. “But it’s true.”

The four watched as the Duke of Rohan’s son led you out to the center of the room to begin the next dance. Aramis could see the disdain you were trying to hide and wished you were in his arms instead, that he could stand before everyone there and tell them he was yours and you were his. The jealous pang in his chest was matched by the admiration in his heart as you danced. 

Porthos pat him on the back again, this time with a sympathetic smile. 

“It’s alright,” he said. “She knows where her heart lies.” 

The Marquess spun you around so you were once again facing the group of musketeer guards. Your eyes met Aramis and your face fell. How you wanted to run to him and forget who you were in his embrace.

“Are you feeling alright?” Your dance partner asked, his overconfidence chipping as your cheeks paled and you stepped away from him. 

You could see your whole life before you. Loveless marriage. Leaving home. A lifetime of loneliness. Without Aramis. Your musketeer, gone forever in a joyous but distant memory. 

“I actually feel a little faint,” you gasped, suddenly out of breath. “Excuse me.”

An annoyed frown passed over his face. 

You scurried away, bumping into another pair as you rushed out of the room. Aramis forced himself not to run after you, worry overtaking all other thoughts. 

“Something’s wrong,” he said.

“Someone else will handle it.” Athos gave him a stern look.

Sure enough, the four noticed the queen whisper something to a lady in waiting and started across the ballroom toward the door. She cast a fleeting glance at Aramis and he discreetly nodded in reply. 

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” D’Artagnan tried to reassure him. “Perhaps a lace on her dress tore?” His optimistic tone was met with dark looks from the other three. “Right. I’ll walk around, see if I hear anything.”

Athos pinched the bridge of his nose. “We are all going to be beheaded.”

-

You laid across the chaise, your head buried in your hands to try and muffled your cries. You could just hear the quiet click of the door and a soft sigh. 

“Oh, my dear.” Anne hurried to your side, placing a comforting arm around your shoulders. She pulled you to her chest like a mother would her child or a caring older sister. “I’m afraid I don’t have to ask, do I?”

“If I could stop my heart if only to keep it from beating for him, I would,” you cried. “But it’s his. His completely.” 

“You poor, sweet girl,” Anne said, pushing back to brush a hair out of your face. “You never make things easy, hm?” She smiled at you. “But I guess love is never easy.”

You laughed through your tears. “Especially when it involves a musketeer.”

“You couldn't have at least fallen in love with a man from England or Italy or Spain to take you away from here. It had to be a member of your cousin’s guard?” She teased, glad to see your eyes brighten again.

“At least we know Louis likes him?” You grimaced.

“He wouldn’t if he knew Aramis had captured the heart of his favorite cousin.” 

You laid your head back on her shoulder, again choking back sobs. Anne stroked your hair. 

“What is it? Did the king say something?” 

“He doesn’t have to,” you sighed tearfully. “I know what life holds for me.”

Anne’s heart ached for you, remember well the weight of obligation. The wish to love and to live according to one’s desires rather than the orders of another person. If she could spare you the life you were both born into, she would. 

A quiet knock at the door alerted you and you hurriedly wiped the mess of tears from your cheeks. 

“Who is it?” Anne called, her regal, commanding voice returning. 

“Aramis of the King’s Musketeers.” Just the sound of his voice made your heart soar. “I was sent to… investigate a broken window.”

Anne turned to you, shaking her head as she walked across the room. 

“You’re both going to have to be better liars if this is going to work.”

She opened the door, revealing the anxious musketeer in the hall. He bowed, flashing a smile. 

“I trust things are all clear here, your majesty.” He said. 

She gave him a stern, but warm, look. 

“You have five minutes.” She glanced back at you. “Maybe ten.” Anne skirted around him and closed the door behind her. 

You were across the room and in his arms in seconds. Aramis locked you safely in his embrace, pressing his lips to your forehead, your cheek, and lastly your lips. 

“What’s happened? Are you hurt? Did that man upset you?” He asked between kisses. 

You shook your head still blinking back tears.

“No, it isn’t that,” you said. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Please.” He laid a hand on your cheek. “Tell me what’s wrong, my love.” 

You looked into his loving dark eyes and pulled him back to you for a kiss that said more than your words could. And he understood completely. 

What started as a distraction and thrilling secret for both of you had become so much more. The more he fell, the more he knew how much it would tear him apart when things inevitably went wrong. 

“I just felt so trapped,” you cried, laying your head against his chest. “So many people want a say in my life, especially my cousin! He can’t manage his own life, let alone mine.”

Had it been anyone else, you would have been punished for criticizing your king. But despite your relations, you tired of Louis’s childish impulses and complaints. Most of the time, he felt more like a young boy with a crown. 

“But I suppose if I’d taken power as young as he did, I might act the same way,” you sighed, leading Aramis to sit with you on the chaise. “I just wish things were different.” 

He brought your hand up, kissing the inside of your wrist while his mustache tickled your palm.

“We could leave,” he said softly. He turned toward the window, looking over the grandness of the garden with a lump in his throat. “Run away to Spain or England or anywhere, like we talked about.”

You pulled away, eyes wide with surprise. 

“We were never serious.”

“Maybe I am this time.” Aramis kissed you again with more urgency than he ever had before. You both realized then how much he meant it. 

You found yourself leaning into him, like a moth to a flame. Your hands trailed up his chest. A sigh escaped your lungs. Aramis chuckled, gently pushing you back with his hands on your arms. 

“I should go,” he said. “Athos already wants to hang me and I don’t think the queen would appreciate me disheveling your appearance.” He fixed a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. “You look beautiful.”

“I suppose I should return as well,” you sighed. “Else the king will lose his head.”

You kissed a final time before Arams hurried out of the room, looking back at you with total adoration. 

He checked to make sure there was no one in the hall, quietly clicked the door shut, and started back toward the ballroom. 

“Monsieur Aramis,” the queen’s voice stopped him in his tracks. 

He turned on his heel and fell into a deep bow. 

“Thank you, your majesty. It seems that the window was a false-”

She held up her hand to silence him. 

“I just need to know one thing if I’m going to permit this to continue.” she held her head high, her mouth set in a thin line. “As you know, Y/N is family and I love her like she was my own sister.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“So I must ask you.” She stopped toward him. “Do you love her?”

Arams took a deep breath and stood a little taller, his determination and dedication clear in his eyes. 

“Yes, your majesty.”

Anne watched him for a long while. He almost felt like a prisoner awaiting sentencing, but even in her seriousness, he could sense a kind of affection. 

The queen nodded. 

“That’s all I needed,” she said and dismissed him. She went back in to join you and he continued down the hall, unsure of a number of things, but absolutely sure of something much more important. 

-

The guests had finally gone and Louis decided he’d cure his boredom by ordering a hunt. It came as a surprise to Captain Treville, however, to find that four of his musketeers had been requested to stay. The queen claimed that she was afraid one of her necklaces had been stolen and she knew that the four finest of Treville’s men would be able to solve the case. 

They were waiting in the courtyard when Aramis felt a sharp smack to his shoulder. 

“What. Did. You. Do?” Athos growled. 

Aramis shrugged, rubbing the now sore spot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Porthos sat beside him, holding Treville’s orders from the queen. 

“Why would she ask for us to find some piece of jewelry?” He asked. 

“Because it’s a lie,” Athos said, snatching the parchment to read it over. “I’m sure this is about something else.” He glared at Aramis, who held up his hands innocently. 

“She seemed perfectly aware and alright with the situation.” He thought for a moment. “Okay, maybe not perfectly alright with it-” Athos threw the paper down. “But she certainly didn’t seem like she was planning my execution!”

“What’s all this?” D’Artagnan joined, a bright grin spread across his face. 

“Visiting Madame De Bonacieux, were we?” Aramis teased.

“Don’t change the subject,” Athos snapped, handing D'Artagnan the letter.

“Oh, Constance mentioned something about this,” The youngest of them said. “Apparently we’re to meet her at the servant’s entrance near the gardens and she’ll take us to the queen.” He placed the paper back on the table. “She was very secretive about the whole thing.”

Athos frowned, thoughts of exile filling his head. 

“Don’t you think she would have told the king by now if she wanted action taken against me?” Aramis asked. 

Porthos scratched his chin. “Unless she wants to protect the Duchess from being discovered as well.”

“You know, Constance did say it was something very serious,” D’Artagnan added. He suppressed a smirk so as to not give anything away. He was under strict instructions from the queen herself not to spoil the surprise. Getting to watch Aramis and Athos squirm was just a bonus. He pat Aramis on the back. “We’d better get going. We don’t want to be late for our demise, do we?”

“That isn’t funny,” Athos growled. 

Aramis didn’t say a word. Too many thoughts plagued his mind for him to speak. He just put on his hat, took a deep breath, and went to ready his horse.

-

You had never been to this part of the palace. Anne led you down corridor after corridor and refused to tell you where you were going. The king and most of his courtesans were away all day to hunt and the rest of the palace, including all of the queen’s ladies in waiting, were searching for her missing jewelry. 

“Can you at least tell me why you’ve sent everyone running around for a necklace you don’t even like?” You asked. 

“I have asked you to trust me,” she giggled. “That is a command from your queen. Now come on!”

You could remember the last time you’d seen her like this. Whatever it was she had planned, she was certainly being sneaky about it. You just couldn’t imagine what could bring you to this side of the palace. 

Finally, Anne stopped outside of a large, ornate, but faded door. She smoothed out her dress, lifted her chin, and put on a very grave face. 

“Now, I need you to look very serious. If you smile, it shall ruin the surprise.”

“Alright, but-”

She threw the door open and stormed inside before you could finish. Following her, the only expression you could muster was one of shock as you stared at the scene before you. 

Aramis, Athos, Porthos, and D’Artagnan stood in the middle of a large, empty room with Constance leading them. At least three of the four men looked just as confused as you. All bowed as the two of you entered. 

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve had Madame de Bonacieux bring you here,” the queen began, sounding as grim and stern as ever. 

A chill ran up Aramis’ spine. Perhaps she had changed her mind. He wasn’t good enough. Of course, he wasn’t. You were a duchess. He was a soldier. How could the queen simply look the other way and allow this to continue?

You saw the growing panic on his face and touched Anne’s arm. 

“Your majesty, what’s going on?” You asked. 

She turned to you, finally smiling. 

“Please,” she beamed. “Today I am just Anne.” She faced the men again, discarding her serious facade. “You’ll have to excuse the theatrics. Even a queen is allowed her fun, every now and then.”

“Forgive me,” Athos said, bowing again. “I don’t understand.” 

“Is something the matter?” Aramis asked, looking over her shoulder at you. 

You shrugged, feeling just as flustered as he appeared. 

“Given the… circumstances of which we are all aware.” She glanced between you and Aramis, reaching back to take your hand. “I thought this would be the best opportunity for us to speak freely.” 

Everyone looked about the massive room, the boarded-up windows allowing for a little light to stream in. Anne smiled. 

“Don’t worry. This ballroom is part of the palace that has been sealed off since the past king died. No one will bother us here.”

Anne took your hand and motioned for Aramis to come forward, placing your hand in his. 

“I may not have the power to dissuade my husband's stubbornness or change the laws of this world,” she said. You could see the hint of tears in her eyes. “But if I can give you this moment to be happy…”

Forgetting the rules of propriety, you threw your arms around her. For the first time in your life, it truly felt like you had family. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

“No matter what, my dear, your heart is always your own to give.”

You stepped back, finding yourself in the arms of the man you loved. 

“Now.” Anne faced the rest of the group. “We may not have musicians or grand spreads of food, but we have good wine and good friends, so I thought we could make the most of things. You all spend so much time guarding these celebrations, you deserve to have one of your own.”

The four musketeers looked at each other. 

Porthos shrugged. “Sounds kind of nice to me,” he said. He stepped forward. “I know a couple of tunes that don’t require any of those instruments that they have at the balls. Just our voices and hands.”

He clapped, the sound ringing through the space. 

“Thank you for that demonstration,” Athos muttered. 

“That would be perfect, monsieur Porthos,” the queen grinned. 

And so the festivities commenced. Athos decided to watch the perimeter of the old ballroom, just in case, but couldn’t bring himself to refuse when the queen wanted to teach everyone a dance from Spain. 

Aramis sang quiet Spanish in your ear while everyone clapped and swayed around the room. 

The ballroom was alive with laughter and movement and joy. You were finally in your musketeer's arms, proclaiming your love to the people that mattered most to you.  It was the most fun you- and the queen- had ever had. 

There was no music, but there didn’t need to be. You twirled and skipped and sang and flew as if you were dancing amongst the clouds. Aramis put his hands on your waist and lifted you into the air, making your laughter echo all around.

“I wish it could always be this way,” he whispered, lips brushing your cheek. “I meant what I said. We could try.” He looked at you with such love and persistence in the face of obstacles that you knew he would leave everything behind for you. 

But as you spun around the room, you saw his friends, his brothers, his purpose. His place was with them, just as yours was with Anne and your cousin. You could never ask him to leave. 

“I love you,” you said, laying a hand on his chest. “And I will cherish every moment I have with you. But I will not take you from the life you love. Even if it means losing you. I can live with that decision as long as you are happy with them.” 

Aramis sighed, leaning his forehead against yours, forehead against yours, forgetting the eyes watching the two of you. He leaned forward just enough for his lips to brush against yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he cried. Aramis pulled you a little closer. “If I could change the world with only the love I have for you, I would.”

You lifted his chin so his eyes met yours. A bittersweet smile graced your lips.

“We may not have forever. But we have now,” you kissed him again, sweet but meaningful. “That’s enough for me.”

Aramis nodded and continued leading you across the floor in an unfamiliar dance, yet both of you knew the steps by heart. 

Anne stood with Constance and D’Artagnan, both had already danced until their feet were sore. Athos joined them and noticed the queen’s saddened features. 

“Is something wrong your majesty?” He asked. 

She blew out a breath. 

“I’m afraid I’m being rather cruel,” she said. “I’m showing them what they’ll never have.”

Athos shook his head, watching the couple with a deep understanding. 

“No, your majesty,” he said as Aramis lifted you once again, a smile returning to both your faces. “You’ve given them something to hold onto.”

#the musketeers #aramis #santiago cabrera #armis x reader #the musketeers imagine #bbc the musketeers #anne of austria #queen anne #athos #porthos #d'artagnan

[forrestfanfics]

So This is Love || Age of Ultron 12: “Neoma's Debut ”

“So This is Love” Masterlist

Previous Chapter  ||   Next Chapter (Civil War)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sight of the Helicarrier made me forget about my numbing body. A glimmer of hope arose within me, and I forgot about their previous plan to blow themselves up. 

All that mattered now was getting these civilians to safety. 

"This way! Careful!"

Family after family ran past me as my eyes frantically scanned the area. But the panic in me kept me from tracking how many people I'd let in.

We couldn't leave anyone behind.

Not one.

When a lifeboat was filled, we guide them to the next and so on.

"Neoma, status update."

I tapped my visor. "So far, we're in the clear," I responded to my dad.

"Roger-... Crap."

Comms went static.

"Stark senior?" I paused.

"Dad?"

Nothing.

Then suddenly, a loud explosion sounded off and everyone around me started panicking.

The town square quickly turned into pandemonium.

I turned to the source of the blast and spotted my dad zooming into the sky towards a falling lifeboat.

One of its thrusters had been taken out by a mini Ultron.

Iron Man closed in on the boat, ready to catch it, when an Ultron bot cut him off, tackling him away.

"Fuck!"

On instinct, I ran for the edge of the floating island and threw my arms back, launching myself up into the air and to the boat.

The wind roaring in my ears couldn't drown out the screams of the passengers.

When I got close enough, I put my arms out to my sides and pushed, forming the same bubble I always had. Letting out a whine, I tried to push further, managing to catch half the boat with the other half still dangling out.

It was starting to hurt. My arms were shaking as I forced myself to keep going, keeping the bubble as stable as I possibly could.

The frazzled screams of the passengers were the only thing keeping me from dropping the boat.

I felt like I was choking on air.

But, I wasn't done yet. Half the ship was still weighing me down, and I had to keep going, keep pushing.

I let out a strained yell, pushing the bubble to grow bigger and bigger until it enclosed the entire boat, keeping it completely stable while I waited for my dad to get back up on his feet.

It was pure torture. My brain was growing fuzzy, and I could taste the blood dripping from my nose and onto my tongue.

I might as well have been shot in the spine at this point.

I wanted to let go.

I wanted to give up and end my suffering.

This pain... It made me want to die.

"Jesus Christ!"

I was too far gone to focus on the voices coming from comms. All I could hear was my own heavy breathing and the sudden silence from the boat I had within my bubble.

"Hang on just a little longer, Peanut!"

I cried out in pure agony as my body started to burn up.

"Let go, Neoma!"

Without any hesitation, I dropped my arms and allowed myself to fall.

In the corner of my eye —and through small gaps in my hair—, my dad had caught the boat right as the bubble dispersed.

My vision darkened while I continued to fall.

●    ◉    ◎    ◈    ◎    ◉    ●

"Come on, kid, wake up. Dammit!"

My ears twitched as the echoey sound of Steve's voice stirred me awake.

I rapidly blinked my eyes open, only to squeeze them shut at the bright beam of sunlight.

Someone took my visor off.

My whole suit had been retracted into the silver slip around my neck.

I couldn't feel my arms and legs, and the metallic taste of blood was still present on my tongue.

"Hey. There you are," Steve put a hand on my cheek soothingly. "It's okay, kid. Relax."

"Everything hurts," I managed to murmur under my breath.

"I know, I know."

"Am I... dead?" I felt like the more I spoke, the quieter my voice got.

"We're on a lifeboat, Y/N. Everyone got off safely. Most of them because of you. You're a lifesaver, kid."

I get that he was trying to make me feel better, but I wasn't absorbing his words in that state. I couldn't even open my eyes properly. I don't think I could even breathe.

"Where's... Dad?" I asked.

"He's... Well-"

A huge blast shook the boat for a moment as if on cue.

My eyes snapped open, and I started breathing heavily, hyperventilating from exhaustion and panic as I tried to sit up in vain.

"Hey, hey, hey! Stay down! Your vitals are beyond abnormal!"

His words were white noise to me as I continued to panic, trying to push myself up off the floor.

From the corner of my eye, I could see the edge of the boat where smoke and the debris of the demolished island came raining down. Into the ocean below us most likely.

I panted and finally got myself up, stumbling and losing balance as my knees shook and trembled. I frantically searched the skies for any sign of my father or Thor flying around.

With shaky hands, I quickly reached into my pocket and found my visor, putting it on and scanning the area.

I tried comms, but I couldn't hear anyone.

I tried to move closer to the edge to jump off, but Steve's hand got hold of my arms, effortlessly picking me up and moving us away from the edge. "You push yourself any further, you're down."

He totally meant death...

I was completely useless at this point.

I was just some kid in her pyjamas and a visor, too weak to stand on her own.

It was suddenly quiet and I started to relax, allowing my eyes to close and my body to relax as Steve kept me in his arms like I was a child again.

"Hey, Peanut."

My eyes snapped open and I reached up to tap my visor. "Dad?"

"Good work out there."

"Wow..." I sighed, relieved to hear his voice.

"You played a big part in our victory today, Y/N. I'm proud of you. I'll see you on the ground."

Comms clicked off.

Finally.

I made my dad proud.

"Wait..." I mutter and look up at Steve.

"You won?" I asked.

The man smiled down at me, adjusting his arms to keep me from falling.

"We did, Neoma."

We did.

We won.

I'm part of the team.

The moment the lifeboat landed on the Helicarrier, I fell from Steve's arms and ran to my dad, colliding with him in a hug.

I hissed when I crashed into his metal suit, causing him to laugh. "I can't believe that's the stupidest thing you did today."

"That was so cool," I tilted my head up.

His metal hand gently patted my back. 

After my outburst, my adrenaline faded and I felt my body shaking again. "I'm gonna pass out now."

●    ◉    ◎    ◈    ◎    ◉    ●

"I'll carry you back."

"Okay." With that, I let myself go.

I was forced to stay in a hospital for a few weeks to recover and was so graciously visited by my dad every once in a blue moon with a tub of ice cream and a tail of paparazzi.

I don't know what exactly he used as an excuse to explain the fact that his daughter just so happened to be hospitalised right after the Avengers were in a battle in Sokovia.

But I believe that he told them that I downed a bottle of bleach after I walked in on... Something.

"Sure are a lot of trees," I commented with a soft giggle, looking down at the holographic image of the new Avengers compound from my hospital bed, the cookie dough ice cream tub sitting on my lap.

"Isn't that what you wanted, Rapunzel?"

"This isn't exactly a cozy little house but you got the prairie part down," I shook my head, handing him back the tablet and picking up the tub to stuff cookie dough into my mouth.

"There's just no satisfying you, is there?" My dad sighed teasingly as he tapped away at the tablet.

"Oh, I'm pretty satisfied. I think the only thing left is for me to go to school," I shrugged.

"Yeah?" My dad spared a glance. "MIT, right?"

"Yeah. Just like you."

"Well, my dad did get me an interview there... And since you're just like me..." He trailed off.

I jumped in excitement and practically screamed. "You got me an interview at MIT?!" My dad quickly reached out to catch the ice cream tub that I threw into the air at my sudden outburst. "... Sorry."

He sighed and shook his head, putting the tub on the nightstand next to my bed.

"I'm not comfortable with you staying in Massachusetts, so we'll try to come up with a compromise for the commute."

"Holy shit! Dad, you're the best!" I laughed excitedly, making sure to keep my excitement better contained this time.

"I've been waiting my whole life to hear those words."

I purse my lips, smiling as I nervously fiddle with my fingers.

"What?" My dad put the tablet down, noticing my antics.

"Did I... Was I..." I pause, gathering my thoughts to form into words. "Did I do good in Sokovia?"

He sighed and sat on the edge of my bed, reaching up to gently run his fingers through my hair, his voice shifting into something softer.

"You were beyond exceptional, Peanut. I can't express how proud I am of you. Albeit, I was scared to death, and you have a very inconvenient weakness... But... You proved yourself to be strong enough to handle it."

"Thank you for this," I mumbled, smiling genuinely. No hint of mischief or mockery. Just absolute sincerity and gratitude.

"What?" He asked.

"Putting up with me. And for letting me do this," I leaned forward, doing little grabby hands.

My dad scooted forward to wrap his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. "If I'm being honest, your persistence and stubbornness are your best qualities. Especially as a future Avenger."

I pulled away and looked up into his eyes with pure disbelief. "Holy shit-"

"Don't swear."

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" I exclaimed, jumping in excitement in my spot on the bed. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

My dad sighed. "Not yet. You're still very new to this. But with the proper training-"

"I will not let you down, Dad!" I jumped with my arms in the air before lunging forward for another hug. "Thank you."

"Welcome to the team, Neoma."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x #mcu #marvel #marvel reader insert #slowburn #sheltered reader #avengers #avengers age of ultron

[glorytoclorin]

The Wanderer’s Note

A crisp note, labeled for the Mercenary Blue Bird that had been received prior to setting out on their task:

Wary travelers;

I am in dire need of a pair of hands to obtain a very vaulable heirloom left locked away in a hideaway cottage off the route of the Pale Forest. It is HIGHLY important that you return it to me when you fetch it for me.

Don't waste time.

~ Client of Clorin, Sector A house 2

———-

It had been many hours since they both had received this relatively unique task. Given that the warmth of the sun, which had been glimmering past the treetops and branches, dwindled and faded- it was to note that perhaps... their little travel had begun to drawl on for way too long.

Even Blue Bird, who had been placing his hand upon tree bark after tree bark, had taken himself to suddenly still himself. Crisp cold air now seemingly nipping at his nose as night soon blanketed the sky. The only sensation he could truly bear witness to was the difference in temperature, the scent of night dew, and the sound of crunching leaves crackling at the bottom of both his and Aria's feet.

His attention especially was on Aria's warmth, which he had taken to moving himself to gaze towards where he thought she was. Nevermind his lack of vision, Aria would be just as blind as he was if neither of them could get their hands on some light.

"...I'm absolutely certain that by this point, we should have reached that cottage by now. Unless if the client's directions were wrong- then we're... lost...." Breathless, even in the dead of night, this wasn't what Blue Bird was hoping for. To be left out in the cold without a fire, of all things, his mind was FRAZZLED at the fact that somehow, he was thrown off course.

"How could this happen..." Mulling it over, he reahces an arm out. Grazing Aria's arm, just a touch to ensure that she was there.

"...We're going to need a torch or something for this mistake of mine- Aria, are you fine traveling in the dark for now? We shouldn't stay in a place like this for too long- wherever this place is..."

Gods above, did he feel like a FOOL right now, leaving the both of them in such a vulnerable situation like this.

@unmeinoniwa

#unmeinoniwa #blue bird {thread}

[west-tokyo-incidents]

With a sharp gasp, he suddenly wakes.

Jolted from his dream with ice in his veins. In the last fleeting seconds of it, he can still feel fingers on the nape of his neck. But it's gone from his thoughts as he hears a commotion outside. He already knows the cause.

Ugh. Time to get up and tell not only frazzled young soldiers that no, there won't be a search party beyond the fence, but also to walk his new commander through a process that used to be a well-oiled dance with Major Chastain. He only hoped this new commander would fall into step as easily as he did back then.

With an aching groan, he stretches and starts getting dressed. The sun isn't up yet, not completely. And it would be a while longer still before the sun breached the ridge of the mountain. He vaguely contemplates laying back down, but only vaguely. Had a wonderful dream, too. Pretty certain it was about–

"Adjutant Forestier."

"Sir?"

"A soldier’s missing."

"I know." He tucks the shaggy ends of his hair up into his beret. Hm. He needs to get it cut back again soon. He leaves his quarters and steps out, papers in hand, "I heard the gate open last night. You'll need to look this over and sign it once we have witness testimonies."

"..." The major looks at the paper, "Those are–"

"Killed in action forms, yes." Forestier glances down at the sheets.

"We don't have a body." The Major makes a face of displeasure.

"No, we don't. But those who answer Mother’s call are, without question, dead. We treat it as if their body has been confirmed but is unrecoverable. Which is, in fact, the case."

"..."

A tired, quiet sigh leaves Forestier, "I am not Adjutant-Chef of the 18th Battalion for no reason, Major. That man is dead. It's better for him and his family than being assumed a deserter and dragging out an investigation that will go nowhere." He holds the papers out.

"This really isn't a joke."

"Never was. We have testimonies to gather. The experienced chasseurs won't give us any trouble, let me handle anyone who does that."

The major takes the paper and looks them over, "How do you know for sure?"

"Hm?"

"That they're really dead and not deserters?"

"...we see them in the winter."

—

Forestier leans back in his chair as he finishes writing up a disciplinary notice for one of the soldiers. The window to his office is open, letting in the gentle breeze and bird song. It's louder following the disappearance, less muffled.

Satiated.

He tilts his head back to look, spotting a white bird dart through the trees. A glimmer of silver catches his eye. With a frown, he stands and goes to the window to get a better look. His window faces the mountain. The fence is only a few meters from the building.

From here, he can see what the silver is. A necklace, dangling from a branch just on the other side of the fence. A simple chain with a silver pendant held out by a tiny stick branch that can barely hold it, bowing under the weight. It almost looks like someone holding out a gift. He clicks his tongue, contemplating it.

What a cruel trick from the beast. He knows if he goes up to it that it would be just out of reach through the fence…

His office door opens and he turns, immediately dropping the necklace from his mind.

"Lieutenant. I was beginning to worry." He nods, "Report."

"Mother is a kilometer south. No visuals, but the usual sounds and overgrowth. No sign of any dead nor shamed."

Forestier sits back down and begins to write again, "Any damage to the fencing?"

"No, sir."

He nods, "Which sounds, specifically?"

Several redundant clarifications later, the report is filled out and filed away with many nearly identical.

"You're dismissed, Lieutenant."

A salute and the man is gone. Forestier, once again, finds his chair and sits. He stares at the woodgrain in his desk before he glances back out the window. The necklace is still there. Odd, usually Mother’s bait disappears when it's ignored. He spins his pen between his knuckles, watching it sway up and down in the slight breeze. The sun glints off the metal.

He glances at the time, then gets up. The window is shut with a creak and a click, and he locks his office door on his way out. His hands grab the hem of his jacket and he straightens it out. Hm. Left his gloves in the office, oh well. He folds his hands behind his back, his right hand covering the heavy scarring on his left.

His boots aren't the only ones making noise down the hall, and he passes others on his way out of the building.

"Where are you headed, mon adjutant?"

He looks up, stopping. He gives a polite, if tight, smile, "Out for a walk. Care to join me, Major?"

A nod, "I wouldn't mind, no."

His superior falls into step next to him. There's a quiet moment before the younger man speaks, "I wanted to talk about what happened with Chasseur Dupont."

A low groan left Forestier's chest and he closed his eyes for a second, "Dupont has a reputation for his temper. There's a reason he's been left here and hasn't received a promotion in rank."

"...I meant his comment about you and the late Major."

"He also has a penchant for perverted jabs with no weight to them." He pushed open the door with a fair bit more force than intended, face drawing into a scowl, “Don’t listen to him.”

The subject is dropped as their boots hit the gravel and dirt. Forestier is thankful for the moment of quiet but doesn’t let it linger, speaking again. Small talk in a bid to keep the topic from festering, “I think it would be good if you went on a patrol down the fence-line. This afternoon’s patrol made contact.”

“They saw it?”

“Heard it.” A brief pause, an expectation for an explanation that isn’t given.

The Major huffs, annoyed, “I see. A patrol with the soldiers would be good, whether or not I do see for myself.”

Forestier just nods, then stops suddenly. They’ve arrived at the fence, and the necklace is still there. A tremor runs down his spine. It’s not out of reach, it’s almost right up against the fence. He frowns a little and steps closer. He could reach through the links and just. Grab it. A breeze makes the branch sway and makes the needles quiver.

Metal is on his hand before he realizes it. He has the necklace. The pendant burns cold in his palm. The trees rustle and there’s no breeze. He looks up, into the forest. Flowers are as bright as ever. The branch is returned to its resting position. Everything is still and content. He curls his fingers around the necklace. Nothing is staring out at him. Nothing is watching him, not from that side, anyways. He can feel his commanding officer’s eyes on his back.

“Someone must’ve put it there. After all, you said things like that are always out of reach.”

Forestier clears his throat, then nods, “I agree. Likely someone trying to scare the new arrivals.” His stunned focus is broken, he shakes his head and shoves the necklace into one of his pockets.

He didn’t want to think about the implication of accepting a gift from Mother.

#mère des pins au #ress writes #im having a good time #ive reworked the first part #i really should repost it or edit my current post on tumbkr but. effort.

[xxlordalexanderxx]

Great! I'll get to work on it immediately. Can you have Cromwell magic the canvas into the salon, please? I'd move it myself but the thing's almost as big as I am.

Oh he's absolutely delighted, his scales are puffed up and his mane is frazzled, his gems glimmering. He takes a breath to call the butler but Cromwell seems to appear out of nowhere.

"It is done."

#gin and chthonic #Infernal Inquires ♦️ #|♣️Cromwell♣️| #|🥩IC🥩|

[whimsyprinx]

Character you remind me of: frazzled glimmer and Dave playing dick Ouija with karkat

ABBSKDBLD HOW DARE YOU ASSIGN ME HOMESTUCK WHAT DOES THIS MEAN I DEMAND CONTEXT

#rambles #asks #mabe-art #thanks for the ask! #i #i am frazzled glimmer #youre right #i domt know enough about homestuck to know if this is true

[dtyfp]

Is It Because I’m Pregnant?

Lily masterlist

“I’m starving,” you complain as you and Ten finally arrive to the restaurant you were meant to meet the others at. You and Ten had a individual schedule and was meant to have finished over an hour ago, so subsequently, you were late for dinner. You were in the midst of your SuperM tour, having done a concert last night and set to do another tomorrow.

“Taeyong texted, the restaurant is packed so they couldn’t hold seats for us. We’ll have to dine separately,” Ten tells you, waving his phone.

“That’s fine, we haven’t been alone together for a while,” you recall as you link your arm through his. There’s a hop to your step now that you’re so close to real food. As you wait for the hostess to seat you, you spot your SuperM members across the restaurant. Baekhyun sends you both a wave, an action you reciprocate before you’re led away.

“Wow, this place is actually busier then I thought it would be,” you admit as you look around. Every table was filled and the hostesses looked a little frazzled as they ran around.

“Dude, I’m so hungry I will literally eat my own arm. Can we order?” Ten asks, unimpressed by the way you're looking around instead of ordering. You forgot how hangry he could get. You nod and he waves someone over, he orders some sort of steak while you settle for some pasta.

“So, Lily, what’s new? I feel like we haven’t talked, just you and me, in a while,” Ten sighs contently once the food is ordered.

“Me? Literally nothing,” you shrug with a scoff.

“Mhm, how’s that boyfriend of yours?” Ten asks, wiggling his eyebrows in your direction. You and Sehun, still relatively new, were still letting your members know. It was a little awkward honestly, but they've all reacted well so far.

“He’s good, we’re good. What about you? Anyone I should know about?” You ask. The two of you spend some time catching up, laughing and spilling secrets like old times, you nearly forgot other members were around here somewhere.

When the food comes out, silence overtakes you both as you begin eating. You reach over and grab meat off his plate while he grabs some creamy pasta. You see a text from Mark saying that the others would wait for you to finish so you could leave together, but you don’t bother with a response. It would take too much time and that was valuable time that could be spent stuffing your mouth.

“Do you want to do something fun?” Ten asks you once you finish eating and hostess clears your table.

“Always, what do you have in mind?” You ask as you send Mark a quick text letting him know you finished.

“Hand over your ring,” Ten grins mischievously. Your ring? What could he want with your ring? You don’t question it and slide your ring over, your hand feeling oddly bear without it. He looks around for a moment before getting up abruptly, going over to your seat, and getting down on one knee.

“Lily Smith,” he starts loudly, drawing attention. You laugh once you realize what he’s doing, clapping gleefully as you look down at him.

“Arnold Cooper, what are you doing?” You gasp, spewing the first random name that would come to mind, placing a hand over your heart in pretend shock.

“We’ve known each other for a very long time now and you’ve always been by my side. I have always loved you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Ten says simply, a humorous glimmer in his eye as he holds the ring.

“Will you-“

“Wait,” you stop him. You put on your acting cap and pretend to act upset.

“You’re not just proposing because I’m pregnant, are you?” You ask, your hand dropping to your stomach, eyebrows furrowed as you suddenly become a woman scorned.

“Wha-no. N-no, I am proposing to you because you are my rock, okay? You’ve stayed by my side through the multiple rehabs, the jail time, the bull fighting injury. I mean it, baby, you’ve brought me back from the edge,” Ten sells it, listing off completely events that make you both red in the face from holding back laughter.

“And babe, this baby will be a new beginning for us. It’ll be the best thing that will ever happen to us. So, will you marry me?” Ten, or shall I say, Arnold asks. In the background you think you can hear Mark giggling as he tries to explain to the others what you’re doing.

“Oh, Arnold you old geezer, of course!” You nod, hand covering your mouth as you feign tears. Ten slides the ring onto your finger, you think it’s the wrong hand actually, and stands up to hug you. The restaurant erupts into applause as you both say your thanks to the innocent bystanders. Just like he thought they would, the restaurant comes out with a congratulatory cake.

“See that? We’ve got free dessert now.”

#nct 24th member #24th member of nct #nct #superm #ten #kpop oc #dtyfp #kpop imagine #kpopidol #kpopau

[mystic-sky]

Summary: third-year Gojo’s first kiss with fem reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, sfw aside from teen Gojo ogling at your tiddies.

A/N: I wanted to break from my heavy smut writing with something wholesome and sort of vanilla. Enjoy SSS trio and you on a summer night in August.

It was your second summer together, the summer before everything went to shit. The memory will forever be engraved into you, into Gojo Satoru. Forever engraved into Geto Suguru before his departure, and forever engraved into Ieiri Shoko, who had just discovered her newest infatuation with marijuana.

The moment feels ridiculously more ethereal than how you remember it. Suguru and Satoru snicker as you take your first pull. You’re coughing your lungs out, shoving the blunt back between Suguru’s fingers. He allows his laughter to die down before passing it between his lips (most effortlessly) to inhale.

“Like this,” he holds it for a moment, and releases a puff of the high into your face. Your throat closes and you heave again, squeezing your knees as you hunch over.

“You’ll get used to it,” Shoko says, taking hold of the blunt to take her own pull before passing it to Satoru whose just behind you, sitting on the railing. 

He’s blocking the setting sun, which you were grateful for in a way. You eventually got better at smoking before the thing burnt out, much to everyone’s dismay.

“Get us ice cream, oh handsome, honored one.” Shoko bats her long eyelashes at the snow haired male. She shoves an elbow at your side. You quickly join in.

“Oh dearest honored one, bestow us with snacks to cure the munchies.”

He hops down from the railing, and he’s still taller than the rest of you. “Hmm, say the handsome part again, won’t you? Then, I might consider it.” His sunglasses slide down his nose, and he’s more in your face than Shoko’s, even though you never exaggerated the handsome part specifically.

As nose barely touches nose, you’re a bit flustered by the heat of his body emanating onto yours. It was already hot outside, but you surely felt it.

“I’m the handsome, honored one,” you begin, sliding his sunglasses off of his face and putting them on your own. “And I am going to spoil my friends with ice cream— because I’m the honored one.”

“Cute,” he’s holding an loose, irritated scowl, whirling around and quickly walking up ahead of you lot, earning chuckles from the rest of the group. “Are you guys coming or not?”

“Oh we are, handsome honored one,” Shoko snorts on the handsome part again before cheesing at you. You’re imitating his facial expressions with the shades on— wow these things are pretty cool, you think. And clearly expensive. 

It’s a decent walk to the convenience store now that the sun is down, and no longer scorching the open skin of your back. Him and Suguru are snickering about something like usual, peering back immaturely at you and Shoko. The both of you are unamused, wondering if the two of you should pretend to mumble things about them too, just to rile them up. 

She asks you for your hair tie by whispering in your ear, and you stifle a fake laugh, earning raised eyebrows from the two males. You swiftly pull it off your wrist and hand it to her, watching her stuff what she could of her bob cut into a frazzled ponytail.

Stepping foot into the store was probably the sweetest relief of that night. The coldest air poured down your backs as the door chimed loudly upon entry. You slide the sunglasses up to rest on your head, realizing just how bright the in-store lights actually were.

You and Shoko broke off from the boys to choose what you pleased. She picked up a teen idol magazine as you paced just a few steps ahead. You’re grabbing a few snacks as well, something crunchy to fill whatever it was your stomach was feeling. 

The four of you meet again in the ice cream section, and Satoru doesn’t actually care that you and Shoko have picked out more than just ice cream. He’s got an armful of things you never even tried, so you ask him,

“What’s that? S’it good?” He’s distracted by your breasts being pressed together by full arms of snacks. A single strap of your tank top is falling off one of your shoulders, and it makes his gaze stutter about on your frame. Suguru snaps his fingers behind him, forcing a response from Satoru.

“I’ll let you try some,” the response is quick on his tongue, and he scowls at his dark haired friend who had been mocking him in the back ground about his looming crush on you.

“All you get is chocolate stuff,” Shoko inserts herself between you both, analyzing Satoru’s snacks. “Can I get cigs too?” 

He shrugs. He hardly had any limits on his allowances. Money to him was limitless, and that’s why, especially with his sweet tooth, he had absolutely no discipline. He’s at the register minutes later, with more items in hand than the rest of you. He argues that since its the the last week before the summer ends, who knows when you’ll get another outing like this one. 

You are all back by the pier again, sitting on the railing you aren’t supposed to be sitting on because you could very well fall into the sea. Stomachs full of flavored corn snacks and sweets, the munchies are now gone and you’re all talking about... well, a whole lot of nothing.

Shoko, as seemingly spontaneous as ever, wants to dip her feet in the water. 

“I don’t wanna go alone,” she tugs at Suguru’s side. “Carry me there.”

“What? No.” He’s gnawing unapologetically on a bare popsicle stick. Her eyes plead, the same ones from earlier, and he gives in out of annoyance. The two them walk down the steps to the beach. 

You never asked her if she left you alone with Satoru that night on purpose, or what her goals might’ve been, but an opportunity it was, nonetheless.

“The blue one’s better,” he says simply, sucking on the flavored block of ice.

“Than the red one?” You peered at your own popsicle. “I guess it’s up to preference.” 

Your mouth pops off of the tip loudly before you suck again. He wishes you didn’t make it look so lewd.

You ogle at the box of flavors, the rest of them would surely melt by the time you all got back to the school. You turn your head back to feel white hair graze against your arm. He invites himself to taste your popsicle, prompting hard blushes from you. He imitates the loud pop you made just before. 

“Blue is still better,” he smirks at your sudden discomfort. He’s somewhat at eye level with you, and you swallow hard. He’s always flirting with you, messing with you— trying to get some sort of reaction out of you. 

“Just cause you bought it for me doesn’t mean you can invite yourself to taste it whenever you want.” You bring the pop to your lips and suck softly, looking directly at him. He’s blushing now too, but he tries so hard to hide it. He’s stuck on the way that you’re barely shy about it. You’re not telling him to back up like you usually would. Your eyes are sparkling as bright as they’re able with barely any sun left on the horizon.

“Your mouth’s blue,” you break him from his sultry thoughts. He licks his lips, feeling somewhat embarrassed about it.

“Yours is red,” he deflects, he’s definitely not prepared at all for what you say next.

“If we kiss, our lips are gonna be purple,” He’s all for it, but he’s still surprised when your cold lips entwine with his. It’s a sweet taste, but the feeling of the kiss is a cross between sticky and numb. Suddenly, some warmth blooms in the center of it, and you feel each other entirely. Your tongue doesn’t feel like he thought it would, but at least he knows why. You pull away, wrapping your mouth around your pop, nonchalant as ever.

“You’re just always in my face like you wanna kiss me,” you shrug, you’re analyzing him subtly through the corner of your eye. His expression is sort of deer-like. He’s always wanted to kiss you, yeah. Did he think it was going to happen like that? Not exactly. 

“Cause,” the response is seconds late, “I do.” 

He’s not so shy anymore, closing the space between your bodies.

“So just do it,” you look up at him, and his eyes are glimmering at you. He presses his lips to yours, warming them again against your soft and pillowy flesh. A sweet sound pours through his mouth, one he didn’t know you were capable of making. He wondered if all girls tasted this sweet— with the exception of the ice cream. You kissed him back so bashfully, despite your seemingly assertive personality before hand.

The kiss lasts longer than you both realize, prompting sticky ice cream to dribble down both your arms but neither of you care that much. 

Your wet mouths part, and surely there’s a bit of blue on your lips as much as there is red on his. You find yourself looking away from his piercing blue gaze, trying not to draw attention to the blush painting your face. 

“There isn’t anything to wipe my arm up with is there,” you mutter, watching the red juice slither down your arm. You’re tempted to lick it up to prevent it from traveling further but Satoru speaks again.

“We could go rinse our hands by the fountains if you want,” he says, cracking a goofy grin.

“That sounds like a good idea,” you look towards him. “Why are you smiling like that?”

He chuckles lightly as the fingers on his cleaner hand find your face, smooshing your cheeks inward and puckering your lips. “Well would you look at that,” he grins again.

“They definitely are purple.”

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk #geto suguru #Shoko Ieiri

[hyungieyoongi]

Sleep

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 2,300+ 

Genre: fluffy + angst (because I am clearly stressed studying for my final exams, and I am projecting that into my writing) + HYBE employee from America falling for Joonie b/c who wouldn’t

Sleep wouldn’t come. She tossed and turned for a couple of hours before realizing it was futile with how fast her mind was turning over possible scenarios, worries, and anxieties one after the other. She sighed, pulling back her covers and bringing her laptop from the nightstand on top of her comforter. If she couldn’t sleep, she would at least get some work done for tomorrow.

Yawning, she opened her computer, logging in and sorting through the emails she had ignored since getting home from the HYBE offices. If something was really urgent, she would get a call. She looked over the text with glazed eyes, fighting the urge to go back to sleep, knowing she would feel wide awake as soon as her head hit the pillow again.

The truth is, she kept thinking of him. The thoughts kept streaming in, refusing to let her rest or even work. Today had hurt. It had felt like someone was laughing in her face at the sick cosmic joke the universe had played on her, forcing her to deal with her growing and overwhelming feelings for someone she could never have.

A new hire in the public relations department of the label falling for the leader of the biggest band in the world? It had disaster written all over it. Which is exactly what she told Namjoon. He had laughed, saying she was being paranoid, that they weren’t doing anything wrong by hanging out, getting closer, but she knew better. She wasn’t laughing. And by the end of their conversation today, he wasn’t either. Instead, he was looking at her like she had slapped him in the face, ruining any chance of a normal relationship between them.

“Ha, normal,” she thought with a slight, sardonic chuckle. Like anything involving this situation could be classified as normal. She knew how she felt–there was nothing normal about that considering their situation. Two people from different sides of the world, the employee-employer aspect of it all…not to mention the fact that he was a beloved Idol and completely untouchable. It could never work, she knew that. So why was he being so stubborn? He was fighting her every step of the way, telling her that the way they felt about each other warranted at least trying to be together. But it wasn’t that easy. If they didn’t work out, well, easy enough for him to move on and forget this ever happened. But, for her, it meant career devastation.

“But what if it did work out,” Y/N whispered to herself, letting the warm feeling of possibility wrap around her like a hug. She didn’t let the sensation linger, squashing it with a shake of her head as she began to furiously type to try and distract herself from the broken record that was her head versus her heart.

Her phone began to softly buzz on the nightstand next to her. She glanced at the time on her computer - 1:04 a.m. A little late for even an emergency client call. She reached for the phone, answering before checking the name on the screen.

“This is Y/N,” she said, putting on her best professional tone despite her current state of being tucked into bed in her pajamas.

“Y/N.” She knew right away she made a mistake answering the phone.

“Namjoon,” she whispered into the receiver. “What’s - what’s going on? Are you alright?” She shook her head with worry, assuming the only reason he could be calling at this hour after the way the day had transpired was for an emergency.

“Yes, no, well, technically yes,” Namjoon said. It sounded like he was on a busy street. Not hard considering her location in downtown Seoul, but he was clearly outside rather than calling from his home with the rest of BTS.

“Why are you calling me? It’s late, Namjoon,” Y/N said, not really knowing what to say. Alarm bells were ringing in her head, but she needed to know he was really okay before hanging up.

“I know, I - I’m outside,” Namjoon said. Y/N felt her breath catch, realizing the noisy street in the background was her street. She got up like a shot, keeping the phone to her ear as she rushed to the window, pushing the curtain to the side and peering out, seeing a bundled up Namjoon on the phone outside of her apartment building door. He was wearing a black hat, mask covering the lower half of his face, glasses perched on his nose–an attempt to look inconspicuous. He seemed to sense someone’s eyes on him, looking up at her window. She reeled back from the window, tripping over a nearby chair in her haste.

“Fuck,” Y/N swore under her breath, gaining her balance.

“Y/N, please,” Namjoon whispered. She knew he had seen her, but she needed another 30 seconds to gather herself before she could really, truly wrap her head around the situation. It was late. He was here. “Y/N?” Namjoon said her name like a question, wondering if he had lost her.

“I’m here. I - I’ll buzz you up,” Y/N said, grabbing a sweatshirt out of her top drawer to pull over her loose t-shirt and shorts to try and cover up at least some of herself. She counted backwards from ten, knowing exactly how long it would take him to get in the door and up the stairs until...

Two knocks on the door broke her out of her dreamlike state. She tiptoed to the door, opening it slowly, taking in the sight before her. She hadn’t seen him since their fight, and, honestly, she assumed she really would never see him like this again. Frazzled, hair messed up from anxiously running his fingers through it again and again.

He bore his eyes into her so intently she looked down at a worn spot on the floor to avoid them. She saw one of his feet step forward toward her, and she instinctively stepped back away from him. He stopped. She looked up. He looked - hurt. Hurt that she had stepped away from him. Hurt that she was so clearly uncomfortable with the situation. The easy way they used to talk to each other, laugh with each other in the hallways outside of his studio - it was gone. He wanted so desperately to get it back, see the glimmer in her eyes right before she hit him with a sarcastic comeback, watch her cheeks get red when he teased her. He craved it, that comfort, that familiarity.

She spoke first.

“Namjoon, what are you doing here?” She knew she needed to be direct - get to the point so he could leave and she could get back to pretending everything was fine–normal, even.

“I couldn’t leave things the way we left them today. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about everything I wanted to say but didn't. I felt like, well, I felt like I lost you. And I couldn’t stomach that. I just couldn’t,” Namjoon said quietly. They were still standing in her doorway. Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes. She blamed exhaustion. She took a deep breath before turning away, walking toward the kitchen. He took it as an invitation to come inside, closing and locking the door behind him as he took off his coat. He heard the kettle start to hiss with the sound of boiling water and smiled - tea. Of course she was making tea. Her way to cope with stressful situations, with emotional coworkers, was always to make them tea.

Namjoon shuffled into the kitchen, hands in his pockets, mask and jacket now removed, as he watched her work, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet and popping tea bags into each of them. The kettle started to get louder, causing her to jump slightly at the interruption to the otherwise silence throughout her apartment. She poured the water slowly, knowing that, when it was done, she would have to look at him again. When she couldn’t avoid it anymore, she turned, handing him a mug.

“Here,” she said simply, passing him and heading to her couch, sitting on the corner of it and curling her feet under her. Namjoon followed her lead yet again, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. He felt like he was a mile from her instead of a few feet. He waited.

“I don’t like the way we left things either,” Y/N said. Namjoon turned his head to her, eyes wide with anticipation and hope. She didn’t return his gaze. “But,” his heart sank, “I can’t change my mind. This is the way things have to be.” She took a long sip of tea, shivering at the contact with hot liquid.

“You can’t, or you don’t want to?” Namjoon said, realizing what she had really said.

Y/N looked at him shocked, realizing she had slipped up in her argument - she might be trying to fight this rationally, but her heart clearly wasn’t all the way in it.

“I - I don’t know,” Y/N said, defeated.

“Yes, you do,” Namjoon encouraged, putting his mug down on the coffee table. He turned to her fully now, refusing to break eye contact with her. “You just don’t want to admit it to yourself because then it will all be real. All the late-night phone calls when we’re stressed, the meals in my studio together. All of it.”

Her eyes got wide and her mouth opened slightly before she quickly shut it and composed herself.

“If it’s real, we’ll both just end up getting hurt, and you know that. You can’t sit here and pretend it’s all going to be okay. Because it’s just - it’s just not,” Y/N suddenly felt more tired than she had all night, dropping her head into her hands and covering her face with her shaking fingers. She felt a tug on her right hand, Namjoon’s warm fingers circling hers as he pulled both hands away from her face. He got up from the couch, kneeling in front of her. She looked up slightly, meeting him eye-level in front of her. He put their joined hands in her lap, stroking the back of her hand subconsciously with her thumb, comforting her.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not going anywhere before you believe it?” Namjoon asked. “It doesn’t matter if it gets complicated or difficult or messy. I will be here for you. I will fight for us.” The exasperation, love, and his own exhaustion were written in his eyes as he scanned hers for reassurance that she felt the same way - that she knew she couldn’t keep going on denying what felt right.

“How can you be so sure?” Y/N asked quietly. He let out a breath, gripping her hands tighter as he brought his face closer to hers.

“Because I’m in love with you. I love you, Y/N,” Namjoon whispered. He saw the emotion flicker across her face, tears fill her eyes. He didn’t have any other words - he grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her, more passionately than he had ever kissed her. He poured every ounce of love and emotion into that kiss, wanting her to know and to feel exactly how he felt. She hesitated at first before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, his own dropping down around her waist and bringing their bodies as close as possible given their position.

Y/N pulled back first, trying to catch her breath. He looked at her expectantly, hoping she would let him hear the words he so badly wanted - no, needed - to hear.

“Namjoon, I love you, too,” Y/N whispered into the small space between them. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of her chest, finally being able to say those three words to the man that had entered every part of her soul and refused to leave. The man in front of her who was smiling bigger than she had ever seen. He stood up, grabbing her right hand and bringing her to stand in front of him. Then, he grabbed her and spun her around, both of their laughter filling her apartment. After all of the tension, the stress of the day - it felt like the pieces were falling into place again.

He put her back on her feet, looking down at her with the most love and adoration. Her cheeks were tinged pink from laughter, her lips slightly swollen from their kissing. He had never seen her look so beautiful.

“What are we going to do?” Y/N asked, her joy from their mutual admissions of love being replaced with worry. Her forehead scrunched down slightly in worry. He kissed her on the forehead, then both cheeks, then the corner of her mouth, before placing a soft, gentle kiss on her lips. He pulled back, placing his forehead on hers.

“We’ll figure it out - together,” he said simply, confidently. He felt her nod slightly in affirmation against his head, his eyes closing as he just took in this moment between them. Hell, he had waited so long, he needed to just soak it in.

He felt her take his hand in hers, opening his eyes to look at the woman he loved. She led him to her bed, climbing in under the covers while he took off his shoes before climbing in next to her. He wrapped his arms around her, smiling as he felt her head nuzzle into his chest, body forming perfectly to his side. He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes. Y/N felt Namjoon’s breathing slow down slightly.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair.

“I love you, too,” she responded, snuggling closer to him, closing her mind to the stress that was to come, knowing that Namjoon would be by her side when it did. His arms tightened around her as they both fell asleep. It was the best night of sleep they both had gotten in a long time.

#bts fluff #bts angst #reader x namjoon #bts namjoon #namjoon imagine #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts #bts drabble #bts x reader #kim namjoon #bangtan #namjoon fic #bts fic

[cursestothemoon]

Hiii Charly!! Can I request a Fred blurb with really soft and fluffy sex. Just lots of love and emotions 🥺

Can I request a blurb of soft and eager celebratory sex with Fred after he just found out the reader is pregnant

I am combining these two 😌

Baby Makes Three

F.W. X FEM!READER

17+ IF YOU ARE TAGGED AND DON’T WANT TO BE TAGGED IN SMUT PLEASE LET ME KNOW

warnings: pregnancy, soft dom!Fred, praise kink, UNEDITED (i am sorry)

“Fred? Can we- Could you come here, I need to tell you something?”

The tremor in your voice had the hairs on the back of Fred’s neck standing up, the apprehension making his palms go moist. 

He walked into your shared bedroom only to be greeted by your back to him, head bowed and looking at something in your hands. The anxiousness was radiating off of you in waves and Fred could feel it.

“Love?”

You turned to him, eyes glimmering with unshed tears, and he felt himself start to panic...until you broke out into a beaming grin. Fred’s shoulders relaxed and his breathing started to even as he watched you smile up at him and move closer to where he was standing. 

“How do you feel about the number three?”

What an odd question, Fred thought. His eyebrows drew together as he let out a confused laugh, “I beg your pardon?”

“The number three, how do you feel about it?” You persisted.

He gave you a funny look, hand pressing to your forehead, “You feeling alright, Y/n?”

You gave him a look that said you wanted an actual answer.

“It’s a number...a-a good one. What are you getting at?”

Your smile seems to grow exponentially as he felt your palm in his, placing something in his hand as you whispered, “Baby makes three.”

“Baby makes...” Fred cut himself off as he glanced down at what you placed in his hand.

A pregnancy test.

A positive pregnancy test.

The lump in his throat was immediate, a feeling of immense joy pumping through his veins and making his hands shake.

“...We’re pregnant?”

You nodded and Fred let out a choked sob, a grin nearly splitting his face in two. A squeal left your lips as Fred lunged toward you, his hands grabbing you by the waist and lifting you into an embrace.

The kisses were instant, Fred was keen on placing his lips on any skin he could find. He walked you toward the bed and dropped you onto the soft surface making you giggle. 

“Careful!” You joked, unable to feign seriousness for long as Fred got to his knees and lifted your shirt, peppering kisses across your belly. 

“M’ sorry, nugget.” Fred laughed, his words coming out muffled as he still held his lips to your stomach. 

Your hand carded through his red hair, free of any styling cream or gel, and you couldn’t help but hope your child inherits their father’s fiery hair. Fred continued to pepper kisses across your belly, his thumb caressing a small portion of skin on your hip causing your insides to flutter. You tugged on Fred’s hair gently, angling his face up to look at you as you bit your lip in anticipation. 

“I want you, Freddie.” 

Fred had a giddy smile, “I want you too, love, always.”

You shook your head, slowly rubbing your foot along the side of Fred’s thigh, “No, I want you.”

His grin fell into a smirk as he caught on to what you meant, “Do you now?”

Bashfully, you nodded.

Fred started to raise himself, the action making you fall back onto the bed with him hovering over you. You craned your neck up to capture his lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue not hesitating to slip into your mouth and meet yours. You felt his warm palm against your skin, cradling your jaw as he deepened the kiss before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. 

“We’re going to be parents.” He breathed out with a smile, continuing just barely above a whisper, “I’m going to be a dad.” 

“The best.” You added softly. 

He smiled, head dipping down to scatter slow, loving kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. Reaching the neckline of your shirt, his hands reached for the hem and tugged it off, you arching your back to help. The shirt was once Fred’s meaning it was rather large on you and rarely did you wear a bra with it, Fred being met with your bare breasts was further confirmation. He continued his kisses over each mound, making sure to pay equal attention to each of your pert nipples.

“Love you.” Fred muttered against the skin of your tits.

His lips trailed down to your abdomen before pulling away again, “Love your body.”

You whimpered, stomach breaking out in goosebumps at the feeling of Fred’s breath against your skin. 

“This beautiful, beautiful belly holding our baby.” 

“Freddie, please.” You whined, your need for him outweighing your patience. 

Fred pulled down your shorts, throwing them somewhere in the room before playfully biting your thigh making you yelp. 

“Can you be patient, I’m trying to say thank you.” 

You sat up, grabbing at Fred’s shirt and pulling it off his torso, “Do that later, right now I need you in me.”

Your bluntness had Fred giggling as he stood up to his full height to pull off his pants along with his boxers. Being so close to your naked body had done the job of getting him almost fully hard, his hand doing the rest of the job. You laid back down, watching as Fred made his way back to hovering over your body. 

His fingers dipped in-between your folds, gathering your arousal and starting tease your clit.

“Already so wet and I’ve barely touched you.”

You let out a breathy moan as he continued rubbing your sensitive nub only to pull his fingers away abruptly. Before you could complain, Fred lined himself up with your entrance and slowly pushed in, your juices helping act as lubrication. 

His thrusts were slow as he made sure to bottom out each time. Fred wanted to feel you, every inch, ridge, and spasm of your cunt he wanted to memorize. His hand ran up the side of your torso before coming up to brush a few stray hairs from your face. You were perfect, completely, absolutely, devastatingly perfect. His heart fluttered at the way your lips parted- eyes already screwed shut- as he  hit the sensitive spot inside you that had you seeing stars, or the way your eyebrows furrowed and moans got louder when he reached back down in-between your bodies and started rubbing your clit again. 

Your orgasm was nearing, as was Fred’s, and you tangled your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his face closer to yours. He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, his lover for you completely overpowering him.

He was in love with you that day on the train all those years ago when you threw a chocolate frog at him, he was in love with you even when he insisted he wasn't and asked someone else to the Yule Ball, and he’s in love with you right now- more in love than he ever thought possible- as you writhed under him, the woman who made him a father. 

“Im gonna cum, Freddie.” You panted into his neck. 

Fred whispered gently, “Go on, my love, I’ve got you.”

His words mixed with the slow, powerful thrusts and digits toying with your clit had your body convulsing as you came around his cock. Fred’s hips stuttered as your pussy clenched around his dick, milking him for all he was, and he started to spill into you. 

After riding out your highs, Fred pulled out of you and was quick to have you both cleaned up. 

Walking back into the room after putting the dirty towels away- the ones he used to clean both of you up- he felt giggles bubble from his chest at the sight he was met with. There you were, completely cocooned in your shared bed, your head and frazzled hair the only thing visible from the duvet engulfing you. 

“It’s 1:00 in the afternoon, you couldn’t possibly be trying to sleep now?” He questioned. 

You smiled, lifting the edge of the duvet to invite him in, “Afternoon nap, come in before you lose your chance.”

Fred didn’t need to be told twice, climbing under the blanket and pulling you into his torso. He dropped his head down to place a kiss on your forehead. 

“Baby makes three.” He muttered, hand moving to rest on your belly under the blankets.

You placed your hand atop his, “Baby makes three.”

Tags:

@siriusement

@amourtentiaa

@lifeofkaze

@theorangedrummer

@erinruby003

@famdomhideout

@an2402lths

@escapingrealitybyreading

@readyg0erge

@maybesandohnos

@therealhouseelvesofhogwarts

@onlyfreds

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley blurb #fred weasley smut

[toraashi]

selcouth; nagito komaeda

a/n: no warnings, fluff, gn! reader, bad writing, i miss nagito, 580 words, 

selcouth (adj): strange, unusual, rare; unfamiliar; marvelous, wondrous

“Uh… will you close your eyes for me, please?” Your words came out in a frail whisper, shuddering with nervousness as sage green eyes scanned your form. Nagito regarded you quizzically, and you nestled your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing furiously before he allowed his eyes to flutter closed.

“If it will bring you hope, I’d be happy to!” He chortled, and you furrowed your brows before shuffling around, fingers tight around a previously hidden bouquet of flowers. The paper wrapping was a dull gray, the floral arrangement muted yet refined, a subtle beauty you hoped he’d appreciate. Trembling slightly, you hesitated, gazing at his quaint smile, the way it curved the corners of his lips amicably. Before making the final move, you glanced once more at a delicate paper nestled between petals: a card scrawled with his name in curly handwriting; there was no way he could mistake it for someone else’s.

“Komaeda?” Your voice was a mere breath.

“Yes?” An inhale.

“Will you hold out your palms?” The chalk-haired boy seemed to think twice but relented, presenting his spindly fingers to you. Your eyes flicked across the creases and curves in his palms before taking them in your own - cold as they may be -, and shaping them carefully, handing him the gift. The boy shuddered at your touch but remained still regardless, smiling kindly.

“May I open my eyes?” You hummed in response, cheeks flushed with red as he cracked his lids open, pupils dilating at the vision before him. He appeared unperturbed, gracing you with a tight-lipped smile. “Would you like me to give this to someone? Or is this a joke? It is an honor to be used at the expense of hope-”

“It’s not a joke, Komaeda… I put a note in it.” You murmured, averting your gaze, fumbling with your fingers as he examined the present. “I heard you liked pretty things… I hope this meets that standard.” A moment of baited silence fell between you like a weighted blanket, and somehow you found the courage to peek up at his bewildered expression. Nagito held the card between two fingers, cheeks tinted pink as he admired the vision before him.

“I am grateful for any gift from such a talented, hope-filled individual,” He started, feeling the velvety petals against the pads of his fingers. “But this far exceeds my expectations. To think a human as flourishing with hope as you would spare time to think of a gift I would enjoy… this is more than a garbage human like me deserves.” He paused, and you saw how his fingers tightened around the flower stems. “Unless… this is a joke. I completely understand if so-”

“Komaeda.” You interrupted, holding his gaze. “Do you like it?” He seemed befuddled at your question, flustered beyond belief at the notion that someone would be so kind to him. Your heart ached at the idea.

“The flowers are lovely. I wish I could’ve planned in advance; I would’ve returned the favor.” He spoke, and your heart swelled, eyes glimmering at his expression. Practically glowing, you leaned in to rest your hand against his forearm. Nagito recoiled slightly, staring accusingly at the hand on his body before slowly relaxing.

“Don’t worry about it! I wanted to make you happy. I hope it’s pretty enough.” Nagito chuckled lightheartedly at your frazzled, insecure tone, head tilted affectionately.

“Your hope is the prettiest thing here, so you don’t have to worry too much.”

lowkey cringing at this but i love him and also danganronpa decadence has a release date now and i’m so excited omfg

#nagito x reader #nagito komaeda #komaeda x reader #danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #does this deserve a read more #it's so short #idk #also don't unfollow me pls i'm just writing what i love ToT #i have an akaashi story i'm gonna upload tomorrow i swear

[mrskurono]

a/n: this is the first installment(?) of the Nori brain rot from ages ago w/a Studio Ghibli vibe, idk man this just happened word count: 2.2k tags: post!Shibuya arc, possible spoilers, blood, violence, cursing(?), heavily Hoizer inspired, kinda edited character(s): Noritoshi Kamo, fem!sorcerer reader pt ll

Curses stank. 

In a metaphorical sense yes. But also in a literal sense for you. 

These twisted beings permeated your senses like a rot that you could never rid. Unless exorcised they stuck around in your nostril for days. Each one a different smell but all of them stuck in your craw all the same. 

Beasts of rancid nature in behaviors and looks. Nothing more than to be exorcised by sorcerers. You learned quickly that exorcising the curses was no different than taking out week old trash. 

What you hadn’t planned on was someone doing more than dumping trash on the world. Whatever had happened. Suddenly you were faced with more than just dutiful tasks of keeping non sorcerers safe. A monsoon of trash had been dumped not only on you. But every human in this world. 

Your nostrils burned. And you couldn’t be rid of these things quick enough. Each one you exorcised only meant two or three popped up in their place. Never ending. You couldn’t stomach this smell though. It wouldn’t kill you before you got a breath of fresh air.

Glancing around you take a deep breath. Mountain air on the outskirts of Kyoto during this time of year always meant a refreshing break from the city stank. What you smelled wasn’t refreshing. It was that same vile smell you could clearly recall. 

A curse. One that was close too.

To thread carefully was to perhaps save your life. Every aspect of daily life ripped from you. As well of millions of others. You had done your part to try and protect those around you. Soon finding it in slight vain as you sought out some place to find your own breath of fresh air in this madness. 

‘It’s close....I feel like I’m gonna hurl.’ Thoughts toying with where the curse might have hidden itself. You keep a firm grip on your hilt with every intent to draw it the second the creature made the mistake of slipping up. 

Where you could smell it lurking. There was something else. Almost metallic in scent. You ignored it though. Nothing over powered the scent of a curse. You longed for just the sight of these things. Told over and over again how handy it was to have more than one sense open to curses. Each and every time you took a whiff of one, it made you wish nothing more than to just be able to see these creatures instead of smell them as well.

‘Wait-’ Every alarm in your body went off. Snapping around you couldn’t smell the rancid putridness of the curse anymore. That same metallic scent hung around though. You couldn’t identify it. It was something you’d never smelt before but also so familiar. 

Each hair on the back of your neck rose. This was an old deserted Buddhist temple. No one should have been here except you and the curse ransacking the place. A safe haven or so you thought. When your instinct told you to step behind one of the structural beams. You were suddenly glad you did.

Mere inches from your face, the gust of an arrow whistled past you. Weapons were not used by curses. Now you understood. That smell was human.

Quick to defend yourself, with sword drawn, you didn’t expect the same arrow to make a hard one eighty back in the direction you were. No wooden pillar to save you now. You raise your sword just quick enough to sheer the object in half. Rendering what ever power it was imbued with useless. As it had sped past you though the faint smell of iron suddenly became strong. Whatever it was from had a source. Likely human.

Not ready to give up your ideal hiding place to some interloper. You take only a second to focus on the unfamiliar smell. Faint. And not like a curse. There was something towards the back of the temple though that hinted that they were lurking where you couldn’t see them.

With an idea of where the attack would come from. When another arrow came flying by you from a faceless source, you were ready. Smacking it down before the enchanted weapon could turn on you like the first had. This time though you’d seen what angle the projectile was fired from.

‘Gotcha,’ No shortage of ways around a deteriorated temple like this. You duck down through a few broken beams and make your way up to where the attack came from. 

Expecting to have but a lowly sniper sitting with no way to guard themselves. You find no one. But the scent lingered. Scrutinizing it closer you decided maybe to use a different sense, “...Hey, I know you’re not a curse! Neither am I! Maybe if you just-” Words cut off by another arrow whizzing past you. There was nothing ruder than being interrupted. Glowering in the direction that the arrow came from now you tightened you grip on your sword, “Ok! I get it- Strangers we might not-”

Another arrow. This time too close to your head for comfort. You lost your patience with the third one. 

Recklessly charging towards the assailant was clearly enough to throw their game off track. Swinging your weapon before seeing what it was to lie before you. It was a surprise when your blade met with the dull thud of the wooden limb of a bow. 

“What the-” You attack deflected for the moment being. Your first instinct is to jump back from whoever deflected your attack. In close enough range you thought you had the upper hand to avoid the bow. But that was purely lazy thinking on your part as the cause of the stank of iron became clear.

“Slicing exorcism!” This nobody who reeked of iron shot what looked to be a shuriken made of blood at you. 

No time to be disgusted. An overwhelming scent of blood made it apparent what you’d been smelling. It wasn’t a simple metal. It was blood.

“Oh- Oh!” You raise your blade up in the nick of time to just get the splatter of cold liquid on your cheeks. Disgusted in passing you have no time to dwell as the stranger before you makes to dart away. With their head of dark hair in your line of sight, you weren’t ready to try and re-find them once again in this maze of debris.

Lurching forward you feel the upper hand stall when they stopped your attack once more with the brute of their bow. Clear view of them now. The man who’d clearly fired the arrows was all but composed when shaking off your attack. No way to not suspect another sorcerer caught up in this giant trash heap of curse attacks. You still have no time to play nice when they hurl another blood conjured weapon at you.

In such suddenness you are less lucky than you have been. This one catching your cheek and causing a sting to spread throughout the skin of your face. Fed up with this game you don’t care if he’s a sorcerer or not. This was a one for all situation now that you intended to win.

Firm foot hold found. You realize the man has cornered himself at this point. Range attacks out of the question. Undoubtedly giving you the upper hand now. With a hefty swing of your sword and the first time you’d channeled any energy into at all. You bring it down like a guillotine. Ready to strike flesh. Instead the snap of the bow is your first sign of an upper hand. 

All but trash the man throws it aside but too slowly. You’re on him before the range attacker can pull that weird blood trick again. Slight intent to kill as if he were a curse. You swipe your foot down and knock him down to the temple floor with a hard thud.

You waste no time between the moment his head hit the ground and your above him. Tip of your blade pressed to his neck. One breath too deep from him and the sharp tip would pierce his pale skin. Eyes fixated down on him you realize in the moments after your adrenaline fades that he’s staring right up at you.

Sharp tongue your words come out curt only to be interruped right away, “Who are-”

“Another sorcerer-” His eyes open from the slits they’d remained in the skirmish, “What are you doing here? How did you-”

“I get to ask the questions!” You snarl, jabbing his throat with your sword just enough to watch a crimson bead peak from under the tip of your weapon, “You attacked me, what are you doing up here? Why were you-”

“...you’re so pretty-” Suddenly his eyes open wide realizing what he said, “Wait I didn’t-”

“Shut up or I’ll cut your throat out!” Your sword pressing uncomfortably into the side of his neck now, “I asked you a question! Why are you up here!?”

“Kamo-”

“What? What are you-”

“Kamo family!” He quickly sputtered, “Head of the Kamo family!”

The name rang a bell somewhere in your frazzled brain.

“I’m the head-” He suddenly registered really the blade to his neck, “I’m looking for stragglers-”

“In an abandoned temple?” You weren’t buying it. 

“My people live just down the hill,” He spoke earnestly, “I had to keep the stragglers safe when the curses released from their seals in the keep. Some where up here but-”

“I killed them,” You glared down at him, “I killed all but the one you shot. How long were you up here? Were you following me?”

A shake of his head even as he stared at the glimmer of your sword, “No. I was looking for anyone who came up here. I didn’t expect to find another sorcerer. I felt your cursed energy and assumed you were a curse.”

Eyes narrowing you didn’t like the sound of something so simple to this pretty face, “...I don’t believe you. Give me a reason I shouldn’t kill you right now or else-”

“Noritoshi-” He blurted out, “Noritoshi Kamo. Head of the Kamo family. I can give you some place safe to stay. I don’t understand what’s going on but-”

You lift the blade from his throat. Something about the diligent tone in his voice. Like he’d introduced himself like that a million times. You could kill him but it seemed a waste. Weapon retracted but no offer to help him up. You stand above him with a confounded glare, “...do you know what’s happening?”

His head shook and your stomach dropped. Noritoshi didn’t get up. Only propping himself up slightly when he realized the back of his head was thumping from the impact, “....A special grade curse released a powerful seal in Shibuya about two weeks ago...I saw but....” His face became somber and he shook his head once again, “...I don’t know what’s been going on. I just know things are in disarray and it’s my duty to protect my people.”

Once more you were skeptical but with how little rest you’d gotten in the past few days due to the tremendous increase in curses. This man’s words seemed as solid as any other theory you’d heard. More so than the plea of non sorcerer’s you listened to day in and day out about the end of times. 

“...Has the Jujutsu elders said anything?” You step off him completely. If he was speaking the truth maybe he knew what was going on as an actual heir to one of the clans.

Noritoshi looked up at you a moment longer, “No...there’s been a wide emergency notice to do what you can but our numbers....” He grew quiet, “...as many sorcerers seem to be dying as the rest of Japan.”

Perhaps the end of times were coming. You grip your sword hilt tight and take a deep breath, “....seems a angel of death is coming then whether we like it or not.”

“You’re a sorcerer.” He began to get to his feet, “Please, come with me. If anything to stay away from here. There is a grave yard on the other side of the thicket. More curses will come. No one should be here even as a sorcerer yourself.”

First hand you’d seen the influx he spoke of. From every direction. While out of the city provided some safety you knew that this place left you as vulnerable as any other if you stayed alone. With no words to be spoken of from the elders. And an age of curses threatening to crowd out humans. Like a trash pile reaching it’s capacity. You didn’t see much choice in this one.

“...I will kill you if I find out you’re lying to me.” Voice firm without breaking eye contact with him as you sheath your sword, “I smell one curse in this safe space of yours and I’ll-”

“Kill me, yes,” Noritoshi nodded with both busted ends of his bow in his hands as he looked on at you, “I am not lying but if you see fit, I’ll accept you as my angel of death then.”

a/n: I have one wine cooler in me as I finish this. This might be a multi part if the inspiration finds me. Anyways, um, yeah! This is an old idea coming so pls let me know if you liked it!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #kamo noritoshi #noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader #jjk noritoshi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[kumqu4t]

In (Gold) Sickness and In Health

Pairing: Human Female!Reader/Thorin

Request: @anjhope1 requested a human reader with Thorin for the prompt: “I’m done. We’re done.”

Brief Summary: After the Battle of the Five Armies and Thorin’s actions under the Gold Sickness, you wonder if things between you and Thorin will ever be repaired.

Warnings: Violence and injuries

A/N: Gold sick Thorin is a gold mine (pun intended) for angst. Thanks to @anjhope1 for being so so patient and kind!!! I’ve never really written anything other than headcannons and I really enjoyed this!! I have a long list of fic ideas that I hope to write after school ends and this really got the ball rolling! :D

 @fromthedeskoftheraven (who inspired me to actually start writing <333)

 —————————————

 “Thorin?” You called into the seemingly empty castle. Your voice echoed hauntingly. No response. You turned the corner and ventured into the treasury, though a part of you hoped you would not find him there. It was the only place he ever seemed to be, and not for good reason. You followed the sound of digging and hushed whispers. There you found Thorin talking to himself in furious murmurs, his voice tinged with hysteria. He seemed to be digging through the millions of glimmering treasures, bringing each item close to his face for a thorough inspection, and then scoffing angrily and throwing it over his shoulder at the discovery that it was not, in fact, the Arkenstone. You approached him quietly, gnawing on your bottom lip worriedly. You were soon only a few steps behind him, his back to you, yet he made no notice of you.

“Thorin?” He didn’t even flinch. You, about fed up with all of this, put your hand on one of his shoulders and lightly shook it. He whirled around instantly, a mad expression on his face that only eased slightly when he saw you.

 “Ah, (Y/n). How have you been?” He asked absentmindedly, his gaze still stuck on the gem in his hand. 

“Well, I’ve been better I suppose. Things are not looking good out there Thorin. I worry.” You made sure to keep your voice as non-confrontational as possible, because if you were being honest, you were a bit afraid of Thorin at the moment. You weren’t sure if you even recognized the dwarf in front of you. He finally raised his eyes to look at you. His lips curved into a slightly mad smile, one that showed altogether too many teeth. “You have nothing to worry about, my love. Once I have the Arkenstone, everything will be taken care of. The world will finally put itself to rights.” His eyes seemed to reflect the very gold covering the floor. You frowned at this response. 

“Thorin, I know finding the Arkenstone is important to you, but I don’t know if it is the… greatest concern at the moment. The people of Laketown need our assistance, and there is talk of an orcish army heading our way.” Thorin’s head snapped up, and he took an intimidating step forward. You were almost nose to nose.

“Finding the Arkenstone is my one and only concern, as it should be yours,” he snarled. “Are you not on my side? Do you not want to see me as King?” You took a tentative step back. 

“Of course I’m on your side, Thorin. I only want what is best for you.” Your voice turned stern. “But a King should be generous and fair, should know when to help others. 

“A King,” he growled, “is measured only by the amount of wealth he has. If I don’t have the Arkenstone, I have nothing but these pathetic jewels.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your stomach churned at hearing the words he spoke. This was not Thorin. The man you knew and loved, who once spoke so passionately of honor and loyalty. Your sadness and grief were soon overpowered by anger. Not only does he speak such horrid, greedy words, but he would dare be so dismissive and uncaring towards his own beloved? 

“You have nothing?” You asked in disbelief, your voice hard. “What about me? Your wife, remember? What do I mean to you? We have spent almost no time with each other since Laketown, I am surprised you even remember my name,” you said bitterly. Thorin’s eyes seemed to lighten a few shades. But it was still not your Thorin. And his next words only proved that. 

“I have not forgotten about you amralime. I will have you. Seated on a throne next to mine. Adorned in precious jewels and fine cloths. My most prized possession.” 

You suddenly lost all of your fear. Fists clenched tight at your sides, you spat out, “I am not a thing to be had! I am my own person.” 

“You are my wife!” He roared back, “You will do as I say, and you will like it!” Your lip curled in disgust and dismay at this.

“Is that really what you think marriage means?!” Your tone, while still angry, held a hint of desperation, as if you were hoping Thorin would apologize for whatever sick joke this seemed to be. But alas, that did not happen. He only stayed silent, his eyes unfocused. Whatever clarity they had gained earlier had once again vanished. 

The harsh silence created a lump in your throat. You swallowed once, and in a shaky voice said, “Well, then. I am afraid I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know who I am looking at. Who even are you? This is not the Thorin I know and love, not the Thorin I married!” 

His mouth opened in outrage, prepared to no doubt yell back, but you continued before he could get a word in. “You know what? I can’t do this anymore,” you started. You grabbed your marriage bead- elegantly and thoughtfully crafted by Thorin, and once so tenderly braided into your hair- and harshly ripped it out. You definitely pulled out quite a few hairs along with it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. 

You curled your shaking hand around the small bead, and spoke. “I’m done. We’re done.” In a fit of intense anger and disappointment, you chucked your bead straight at Thorin’s head. You instantly ran as fast as you could in the opposite direction, fearing his reaction. You figured he did not see that coming, and was frozen in shock and confusion for a moment.

As you sprinted down the vast empty hallways, you heard Thorin’s enraged roar in the distance. You ran and ran and ran. You quickly gathered your belongings when you passed the room you had been staying in, and made your way out of the mountain. You said goodbye to none of the company. You ran and you didn’t look back. You squinted your eyes, trying to find your way in what was left of the daylight. 

Tears ran in rivers down your face, and they didn’t stop. Not when you found Bard in Laketown. Not when you reunited with Bilbo and approved his plan. Not when you came across a small room to spend the night in. 

You slid down the wall of the room, sobs tearing at your throat, as you looked at the split pieces of hair that once secured your marriage bead. How could everything have gone so wrong so fast? Smaug was dead. The mountain was reclaimed. Everything was supposed to be back to normal. You were supposed to be living happily in Erebor with Thorin. 

But you weren’t.

You screamed into the night, “Why? Why?” Why did things have to happen like this? Why did Thorin have to be struck with the Gold Sickness after everything he had been through? Why did you two not gain happiness and peace? Did you not deserve that? 

There was no answer. The universe was silent. 

You were not only angry with Thorin. You were angry at yourself. Were you a coward for reacting the way you did? Did you give up too easily, running right when things got hard? Maybe you were a coward, but you simply couldn’t stand to see Thorin like that any longer. It made you sick to your stomach and tore at your heart. 

With a wet laugh, you thought back to your wedding, which took place only about a month earlier. It is odd how things can change so much in so little time. That day had been the happiest of your life. Now here you were, at your lowest, with not even your husband to comfort you. 

The company had been staying in Laketown for the time being. After a much needed relaxing night (free of the stress of orc attacks), you awoke blearily to Thorin’s smiling face. His rough hands tenderly cradled your face.

“Will you marry me?” He asked it in such a soft tone, and you were still so tired, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was just a strange, albeit wonderful, dream. After clarification that it was not, in fact, a dream, and a discussion with Thorin, you two decided to get married that very night. After all, you two were each other’s Ones. Why should you not? You were crazy in love, and you two hadn’t known contentment like you did during this resting period of the quest. There was also the lingering fear that one, or both of you wouldn’t survive for much longer. 

After your affirmative response to Thorin’s question, tears of joy were shed by both of you. That day was full of warm, fuzzy feelings (and frantic planning by Dori and Balin, who despite being quite pleased with the decision, were extremely frazzled with the short amount of time left to prepare). You didn’t have an expensive, ornate dress (you borrowed one of Sigrid’s). There wasn’t a huge crowd. Just the company (plus Sigrid, Tilda, and Bain- Sigrid and Tilda because they wanted to experience the romantic declaration of love and commitment, and Bain because, in his words, his sisters “forced him to come”). 

But it was perfect. It was all you could have wanted. Kíli, ever the jokester, insisted on being the “flower girl.” Fíli was the bead bearer (like a ring bearer, but with beads, because you and Thorin wanted to do it the dwarrow way). Balin was the justice of the peace. Bombur made a wonderful cake, especially considering the lack of resources.

It was a magical day. Your wildest dream had finally become a reality.

You remembered the vows from your wedding. You remembered the promise you made on that day. ‘For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.’ You couldn’t help but snort at the unfortunate irony of that. 

You wondered what Thorin was thinking right now. Was the gold sickness still plaguing his mind? Or was he too thinking back to your wedding day, to the broken promises left between you two? 

You crawled into bed and tried to calm your thoughts, to no avail. You laid your head on the flat pillow, feeling oddly numb. You let your eyes flutter shut, a lone tear escaping to trail down your now puffy face. 

No sleep was had that night. 

 ———————————————

 Around you, the battlefield raged. You had arisen early in the morning, for the orcish army was no longer just a rumor, but a promise. A promise of war. The knowledge of the bloodshed the future held electrified you, helping you to use your fear and anger to aid your fight. You wielded your sword with ferocity and confidence, a scowl on your face as you quickly swiped at the blood that dribbled down the side of your face. Your head swiveled at every sound as you frantically looked to see if you recognized any faces around you. 

You plunged your sword into an approaching orc, making a face at the horrid squelch it produced as you pulled out your blade. You ran across the battlefield, swiftly killing any orcs that dared get in your way.

What you saw in the far distance, through squinted eyes, made your heart drop into your stomach. 

You saw Thorin, fighting Azog on the ice. 

You watched as the pale orc fell off of the chunk of ice he stood on, and into the murky abyss. You prayed to all of the Valar that he was dead. But fate was not on your side. You watched in horror as a knife plunged upwards from below the ice and impaled Thorin’s right foot. 

You heard his guttural roar of pain, and your body moved into action. You ran as fast as you could, your chest and legs burning. But you were still too far away. Everything now seemed to be happening in slow motion. You could still hear the echo of Thorin’s cry in your head. 

Suddenly, Azog jumped out of the water and landed on his feet. Thorin was on his back blocking each strike from Azog to the best of his ability. All that you heard was the sharp clang of metal against metal and your own blood roaring in your ears. 

You felt something harden within you. You were no longer afraid. You had only one job, and that was to save Thorin. Azog’s blade was now only inches away from Thorin’s chest. Thorin grit his teeth and gasped deeply, using every bit of his strength in an effort to block the attack. 

You were sprinting straight towards Azog’s back. You had absolutely no plan. Common sense and battle strategy had officially left the building. Yet your rage towards Azog, who had already taken so much from Thorin, fueled your fight. 

You propelled yourself up, in a strange burst of strength, and clawed your way up Azog’s back, clinging to him. He grunted and twisted his head around. But before he could do anything more, you drove your sword into his back with all of your might. 

Azog’s roar seemed to shake the very ground he stood on. Your hands, slick with sweat, burned as they tightly grasped the hilt of your sword. Your heart sped up as you tried to pull your weapon out to strike once again, but it was stuck. Azog turned, his face now pulled into a sickly sneer, and he slashed at your shoulder with his sword. You hissed in pain, and jerked yourself away. You saw Thorin breathing deeply and attempting to get up out of the corner of your eye. 

Go, you screamed at him in your head. Go, my love. Leave and get to safety. 

Seeing Thorin in pain, thanks to Azog, filled you with a boiling rage. It filled you up from the bottom of your feet to the top of your head- a fiery, molten lava swirling inside of you. 

Your lips twisted into a ferocious snarl as your hands tightened on the hilt of your sword. You twisted the sword further into Azog’s wound, plunging it deeper into his mangled flesh. As you twisted one last time, you pulled it out with a hard gasp. Azog’s stinking, black blood splattered your neck and arms.

You still clung to the pale orc’s back and shoulders, your nails digging into his scarred skin. He thrashed and blindly slashed at you, but you held tight still. You kept your mind sharp, blocking and ducking to avoid his stabs. Reaching your hand into your bloodstained tunic, you hurriedly patted yourself down, frantically searching, until your hand was greeted by your hidden blade. 

You grabbed the hilt of the sharp knife and whipped it out. You positioned yourself so that your feet were pressing into Azog’s back. You drew your arm back and threw the blade, with masterful precision, into the back of Azog’s neck. He roared once again, his head spasming, and made to grab you. 

Unfortunately, this time, you were unable to avoid his grasp. His sharp nails dug into your neck as he grabbed you and pulled your body off of his back. He held you in front of him with only his right hand, the blade at the end of his metal arm pointed at your throat. You felt the pressure building on your throat, and a low buzzing noise started to take over. The blade dug painfully into your flesh, and you felt it begin to break the skin. All of your previous confidence had vanished. You were now at the mercy of the pale orc. 

Azog gave a sickening smile, his pointed teeth glistening with blood. He issued a raspy chuckle that chilled you to your core. Time seemed to slow down once again as he drove the blade of his arm into your side. You gave a sharp intake of breath, as if you could not fathom what was happening, before you let loose an ear-splitting yell of pain. Your voice crumbled and cracked as you screamed until your vocal cords were weak. In the back of your subconscious, you registered a voice, desperately screaming your name. You struggled uselessly, trying to escape the pain. The blade felt hot, as if your insides were being lit on fire and seared open. You wondered for a moment why he did not completely skewer you, and quickly rid himself of your bothersome presence, until it hit you. He wanted your death to be agonizing. Slow and painful. You felt the blade being slowly pushed deeper in, creating a sickening puncturing sensation, and you could do nothing. It must have been almost halfway through you at this point. He tightened his other hand around your throat, and you saw spots floating at the edges of your line of vision. 

You were dancing at the edge of oblivion, barely holding onto consciousness, when you felt your hand which dangled at your side, still clutching your sword. A glimmer of hope sparked inside you. With a guttural cry of pain, you used your last bit of strength. Your arm elongated at your side and rose before you swiftly cleaved Azog’s head from his shoulders. Your face was promptly sprayed with his blood and innards, before his hold on your neck loosened, his grasp slack. His severed head hit the ground with a satisfying klunk, his eyes glazed over. His body collapsed to the ground with a loud thud, bringing you down with him. 

You gave a low groan of pain at the impact. Azog’s arm, still impaled in the side of your torso, left the two of you attached. You slowly took your sword, whimpering softly at the painful stretching the motion caused, and sawed off the small bit of flesh that attatched the metalwork to his body. You were left sitting on the ice, a blade sticking out of you, as a ringing filled your ears. You heard your name being called, and a blurry figure made its way into your field of vision. You squinted your eyes, trying to see who it was. Once your vision cleared, you breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

Thorin was here. 

He hobbled over to you, his wounded foot dragging behind him. He lowered himself to the ice slowly. He looked at you with such sorrow as he scooted closer and cupped your face. His warm hands grounded you to reality. You felt every callous on them as he softly ran his fingers along the sides of your face, his touch only a whisper. 

“Ghivashel,” he started, his voice cracking. “I-

“No,” you interrupted, your voice hoarse from the abuse it had endured. You gave a pathetic cough and said once more in a slightly stronger voice, “No. Not right now.”

Tears ran down his face, their clean tracks a stark contrast to the dirtied skin it ran down. “I am so sorry. So very sorry. I cannot even begin to apologize for all I have-“

You reached forward and put your finger against Thorin’s lips. You gave a soft smile. “I know,��� you replied. You brushed his hair out of his face gently. “We have much to discuss. Many things have been left unsaid.” You gazed into his warm blue eyes, “But right now, just be here. Be here with me, my love.”

Thorin’s lips quivered slightly as he gave a sad smile of agreement. He gently positioned you so that your head was resting in his lap. You gazed up into his face. The soft cloth of his tunic tickled the back of your neck. The warmth of his body was much more comforting compared to the harsh cold of the ice you both lie on. The pain would have been almost unbearable, but Thorin’s presence was like a balm to both your soul and body. He took on a tinge of panic as his eyes locked onto the blade sticking out of your side. Knowing he should not simply pull the weapon out, he quickly tore fabric from his body and wrapped your side with it, securing the sword into place, so it wouldn’t move and cause more damage. You reached out and grasped his hand, your fingers shaking slightly as they ran over his bloodied knuckles. 

“Thorin,” you rasped. “You are here.”

“Aye,” he replied softly, his eyes glistening in the light. 

“My bead,” you begged. Thorin looked confused for a moment, before understanding lit up his eyes. He pulled out your marriage bead, that you had thrown at him not long ago, from inside his tunic. He had evidently kept it on himself. He took your hair into his hands, and quickly wove a small braid into your hair, placing the bead at the end of it. He moved aside his own hair, showing you his marriage bead that still lie in his own braid. You gave a watery smile as you clutched at his hand.

After a pause, you spoke. “You are mine, and I am yours.”

“Always,” he replied, his voice strong. “My wife,” he added after a moment, the word an unspoken promise. My husband, you thought warmly. He ducked his head down to meet your own, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on your lips, his hand cradling the back of your neck. You responded in kind, deepening the kiss. You felt as if the part of yourself that had broken earlier had been sewn back together. You were whole again. You let out a soft sigh of contentment as Thorin pressed his forehead gently to rest on your own, his eyelids fluttering shut in the moment.

The King slid himself down, so that he too was laying down. Your head rested on his chest. His large hand rubbed soothing circles gently on your back as you breathed shakily in and out. You gazed out over the ice and saw eagles flying in the distance. You gave a grin of relief and squeezed Thorin’s hand. Healers were rapidly bustling about, gathering the wounded and tending to them. You had no doubt that you and Thorin would receive the help you required soon. 

But for now, you were here. And he was here. You were together at last, once again. Your hands intertwined in each other’s, your head tucked under his chin as he planted soft kisses on your head and murmured soothing words into your hair.

“My King,” you said softly, petting the soft hair of his beard as your hand ran over his jaw.

“My Queen,” he responded, his voice full of emotion, as he pulled you into one more kiss, your bodies melding closer together.

The eagles were coming. And all was well.

 ——————————————

  A/N 2: I hope you guys liked that! I am very new to writing, so I know I have lots of room for improvement, but I really enjoyed writing this. By the way, I do not picture Thorin and the reader dying at the end, but it is kind of a vague ending, so if you want to imagine that happening, no problem! (It would be quite tragically romantic, them dying in each other’s arms). Though personally, I like to imagine that they both eventually recover from their injuries and everyone lives happily ever after in Erebor with their beloved King and Queen under the mountain! :)

#erin writes i guess #fanfic #hobbit fanfic #hobbit imagine #thorin/reader #thorin x reader

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

hello self - tumblr continues to hate us so let's just post this way #yolo

Can the past truly be rewritten? Can one simply erase the thunder and rain, leaving behind only the rainbows and sunshine? Can the imperfections be ushered away with the eraser shavings? Or will they remain engrained into the page – its presence serving as a reminder that no one can escape their past.

The answer of course, is that the past cannot be rewritten.

Recently, there were three people, connected by destiny, who struggled to accept this fact. Unfortunately, you were included in said group. But instead of surrendering, you chose to wield your stubbornness as a sword, refusing to accept reality, and refusing to accept defeat. The truth of the matter was… you could not afford to concede. As if you did, you would never be able to return to the love that bathed your world in colour. And the world has stolen far too much from you – could you really survive if it stole him?

You needed to rewrite these last few months, if you didn’t, every moment you shared with him would be tainted in a blinding crimson. The warnings issued by your best friend and sister were true – you knew that what your relationship needed was time. But you were absolutely terrified that time would not be enough to mend the damage. And so, your mind remained clouded with thoughts of fantasy and seized by fear.

“I’m leaving now, Tooru. Have fun at practice later.” A faint smile was presented in the setter’s direction, as you shoved your right hand into your jacket pocket.

“Have fun, y/n-y/n! But not too much fun.” The mocha haired male ripped his gaze away from the cellphone screen, before tossing a playful wink.

Rolling your eyes, a gentle laugh was pushed past your teeth. You were thankful that he remained oblivious to the surge of emotions thrashing against the thin mask you prepared for him. It was better this way – fake it until you make it, right?

As you began down the hallway, the clicking of your boots with the surface soon syncretized with your breathing, forcing it to a slower pace. Once in the elevator, you removed your hand from your pocket, analyzing it for any defects. The caffeine consumed earlier prompted tremors to claim your fingers. It was a miracle you were able to complete your texts without any mistakes. But it appeared that after steadying your breathing pattern, your limbs returned to regular functioning.

Maybe it would be okay. Everything would be okay.

The mantra was repeated internally until you reached the lobby, providing a boost of confidence to your step. Within a few seconds you were able to locate the one responsible for your frazzled mental state. The familiar black-haired male was stood outside the glass barriers with his eyes glued to the cement below. Dressed in blue jeans and a thin corduroy jacket, he sincerely outshined any models you were fortune enough to collaborate with. The sight flooded your senses with adoration, drowning out the remaining anxiety that inhibited your veins. When he caught onto your presence, a smile warmed his features and you found yourself unable to maintain a frown.

At the end of the day, he was still the same man you fell in love with. The same one who filled your days with love and happiness.

Perhaps that would be enough to override the scarlet rain that loomed over you.

“Hi there.” When you joined your fiancé outside, a teasing smirk tugged at the ends of your lips. “Look at you, lookin’ like a whole ass snack.”

“Well, hello to you too. I’m glad you approve of my outfit.” Joy glimmered in his grey irises while a low chuckle was expelled. He was skeptical in asking his brother for fashion guidance earlier, but it seemed that his twin’s advice was useful once again.

“Are you sure you’re not the model, and I’m the cook in the relationship? I mean, I do make some mean onigiri.” Proceeding a step closer to him, you trailed the tips of your fingers along the sleeve of his coat, permitting your fingers to linger when you reached his wrist.

His eyes flickered to your wandering hand, and without missing a beat, he caught your fingers with his, weaving them together naturally. Truthfully, he wanted to embrace you or obtain some form of physical contact the second he laid eyes on you, what he was searching for was permission. He was unsure what boundaries were required under the circumstances, but he was thankful that he was still allowed to hold your hand.

“You do. I have a lot to learn from you, chef.” With his gaze returning to yours, you were quick to notice how the physical contact eased him.  

“You’re so cheesy.” Clicking your tongue, you shook your head, feigning disappointment. The theatrical response served as a distraction from the heat flowing from his skin and the little tingles spreading along your arm. But when Osamu squinted at you with an adorable pout fixing onto his lips, your resolve to continue the performance was completely obliterated. He was only playing along with your charade, and yet his response had led you to shift tactics. “Good thing I like cheese!”

Amazing save, right?

“Yeah, good thing.” The forced retort granted the cook a surge of confidence, and in a surprising movement, he leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to the tip of your nose. The exchange forced an imaginary clog to immediately form inside your throat. Needless to say, you did not see that coming.

In an attempt to dismiss the swirl of emotions his action instigated, you pushed away from him, before beginning down the pathway. Issuing a cough to clear your passageways, your attention was forced onto a random building. “Okay, come on. We’ve got a fifteen-minute walk to go. Follow me.”

Exhaling a laugh mixed with a sigh, he nodded, trailing close behind you.

“I’ll follow you anywhere, y/n.”

The journey to the botanical garden was mostly filled with playful banter, and half-hearted laughter. Somehow you had successfully managed to fool yourself into thinking that everything was fine – that your relationship was not littered in punctures. It was peaceful; the fantasy you had created. It was safe.

The botanical garden that Osamu had selected for your first stop was laid out in the style of a French garden, with a green house that resembled a crystal palace. Breathtaking was surely an understatement, and for the first time since you joined him, Osamu found himself entranced by something other than your presence. Tightening his grip around your hand, he gently brushed his thumb against your skin in a soothing manner.

“This is incredible.” The proclamation was accompanied by a wide-eyed expression. He was never into gardens; but even he was in awe at the sight ahead.

Humming in agreement, you shifted your attention to the centre fountain. It was your favourite spot on the land, and consequently where you took a picture of teddiursa for your Instagram page.

“It feels like a fairy-tale garden, huh?”

The suggestion forced him to return his gaze to you, prompting you to raise an eyebrow quizzically.  

“With you here, it sure does.” He was evidently pleased with the corny statement, a fact that could be ascertained by the little twitch of his mouth. He was clearly attempting to suppress his laughter.

“You better not be saying I am a princess, because you and I both know that is not true.” Contorting your features in artificial irritation, a little huff was discharged. But the theatrics were dismantled when he voiced his explanation, replacing irritation with surprise.

“Oh, of course not. But even demons need a place to live.”

“Demon?!” Halting abruptly on the path, your mouth opened and shut twice as you struggled to find a suitable response.

“Not just a demon, the prettiest demon.” Finally releasing the laughter, he stored inside his chest, he tugged you into his embrace, before pressing his cheek against your head. A growl erupted inside of your throat as you begrudgingly rested your forehead against his chest.

“Yeah yeah. Nice save.”

A comfortable silence blanketed over you two as you began along the pathway, observing and admiring the flower-filled beds and impeccably manicured geometric lawns. However, comfort slowly morphed into distress as you wandered deeper into the vined arches that connected the greenhouse and the “garden of senses”. Without the distraction of conversation, it was straining to drown out the whispers issued by the little voice inside your head. The whispers gradually increased in volume until you could no longer differentiate your own voice from the creatures fuelling your anxiety.

It won’t last – this isn’t real. It is solely a fantasy you have forced upon yourself to cope. He doesn’t love you like he did – no matter what you do now… your love will always be infected with a fatal disease.

The featured attraction hosted only two other visitors; a couple.  The happiness emanating from the couple stole the tiniest bit of sanity you were clinging to.  And when the stranger knelt down on one knee, reaching for an item in his jacket, nausea bubbled inside your stomach. The sight should have not twisted your guts, tangling your organs – but it did. And it hurt. God, it hurt.

“Hey, come here.”

Despite the waves of agony that came packaged with the sight ahead; you could not stop watching. Not until your fiancé’s voice broke you from your trance. As you rubbed away at the tears hanging onto your lashes, Osamu guided you along the path until you reached an isolated portion of the garden. Once you were alone, and no longer in earshot of any others, he released your hand, then brushed through his hair in frustration.

“I know what you’re doing. You don’t have to act okay, y/n. You don’t have to force yourself to be happy.” The frustration was aimed at himself, for inadvertently pushing for some sense of normalcy. It was selfish for him to have wanted it – to have hoped for it.  

“Well shit, guess I blew my cover.” The comment was coated in sarcasm, though you intended for it to sound lighter than it did. The tears resting upon the pads of your fingers did not also help the tense atmosphere.

“I need you to know that you have every right to be angry. You’re allowed to hate me!” The latter of the sentence was vocalized in a lower octave, a detail that only brought you to feel defeated. Because you don’t hate him, and you can’t hate him. “I deserve it all. But if we really want to move on, it can’t be like this.” Unsure what to do with himself, he shifted on the spot uncomfortably, tugging at his roots.

“You idiot. I don’t hate you. I hate this situation. I hate that it got to this.” Dragging a palm down your visage, a groan was muffled. “It’s fine. Can we just enjoy this, please?”

Just keep pretending that it’s okay. Keep pretending. Please. Let me keep pretending.

“No. I can’t enjoy it when you’re hurting.” Shaking his head, sorrow crossed his face, molding his features. “Talk to me. Tell me what I can do to lessen the pain.” A small step was advanced closer, he was seconds from capturing you in his arms once more, desperate to fix the pieces he damaged.

But his ambitions were momentarily abandoned when rageful sentiments ripped from your throat. “I want to start over. I want to erase what happened! Can you do that, ‘Samu?! Do you have a damn magic pencil and a magic storybook that can fix everything?!” Clenching your teeth, your eyelids narrowed into daggers. Of course, your question was unreasonable, you knew that. But you were exhausted, so damn exhausted and you didn’t care.

You genuinely expected him to point out the flaws in your request, yet instead you were met with laughter. Pressing a palm against his stomach, the cook laughed loudly, even stumbling a step back in the process. At this point it was impossible to tell who was the insane one – him or you.

“Are you laughing at my pain, you sadistic gremlin?” Your mascara heavy eyelids fluttered open and shut as you strived to comprehend what was occurring.

Osamu raised a finger, silently requesting that you abandon your accusations as he composed himself.

“No. I’m laughing at the fact you’re screaming at me and referencing a tv show at the same time. It’s the most you thing you’ve done in a while.” Resuming his mission to eliminate the space between you, he caught your face with both of his palms, before aligning his forehead with yours. His reasons for breaking into laughter held some logic, but a pout still registered onto your mouth. And even with your foreheads connected, you averted your stare, unable to maintain eye contact. “Listen to me, y/n. I don’t have a magic pencil, or a magic storybook. And don’t even think of asking if I have a hot tub time machine. But I will do whatever I can to make this right. Just tell me… something reasonable.”

For a moment, you chewed on the inside of your cheek, contemplating what answer to bestow upon him. In the end, your heart took reign of your vocal cords, leaving your brain face palming in shame. “I wanna redo these last three months.”

Woops, you said it.

Osamu blinked down at you, mulling over your strange request. If he could snap his fingers and go back in time, he would. But maybe there was another way to accomplish this goal. Inhaling a breath, he nudged his nose against yours in effort to gain your wandering attention. “Okay. Let’s do that. I’ll reset our phones, and calendars. We can do it right. You can do more gigs and I’ll follow you around the world. I won’t miss a single thing.” The proposal did not contain a single hint of humour, he needed you to know that he was serious.

“Really?” His words impelled a fluttering sensation to bloom inside your chest. The fact he was even entertaining your bizarre request was astounding. It was enough to nourish the seed of hope that was planted with his arrival.

“Yeah. Really.” Lowering his face, he guided his mouth to yours. The tenderest kiss was applied to your lips, lasting barely a minute. You loved how you could taste the sweetness of the tea he had earlier in the day. How his lips fit against yours perfectly. And mostly, you loved that this time, the action did not fill you with fear for the future.

You were simply… hopeful, and maybe a little bit excited.

“So what do you say, y/n? Let’s do it again, shall we?” 

Let’s do it again, shall we - let’s do it again 

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A/N: after battling with tumblr for days, I AM OVER THIS. :( BUT THANK YOU GUYS FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND STAYING BY ME EVEN THO I POST SO SLOWLY ;-;-; YOU GUYS ARE WONDERFUL. 

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#osamu smau #haikyuu smau #osamu x y/n #osamu x you #osamu x reader

[eagehaunting]

Mystery March 2021 Prompt 1: Healing

It happened way too fast.

One minute, Vivi had skipped out of the bathroom, hair bouncing and freshly curled, her pajamas soft and her skin softer from lotion. She felt clean, happy, hungry, and excited for her and Arthur’s movie night!

They had quite a bit planned. Horror movies, actions, some romantic comedies- something that didn’t feel quite right but Vivi brushed it off, since why should she question Arthurs choice in movies? - next they would drink, play video-games, and if they were up to it after dinner, they’d go on a midnight stroll!

“Arthur~” Vivi halfway called out, skipping into the kitchen, expecting to see him on the phone for pizza and sushi-

Except a man was there. Someone bulky and tall, with bright hair, who looked directly at her with a smile pulling across his face.

All of her muscles seized in alarm, leaving her frozen in the doorway.

The man’s gentle smile fell. He comes closer but there are no footsteps, nothing except for her own racing heartbeat. Getting faster, faster. Where’s Arthur? Who is this? ... why is she scared?

His palms were heavy on her shoulders, his fingers warm brushing the bangs from her forehead, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Vivi’s breath refused to come out, lodged in her throat.

In the next minute, her knees buckle. Her limbs both heavy and light, Vivi’s stomach and heart dropped in tandem. The man grabs her, gasping, shouting out into her house. Then theres racing. A pound of footsteps. A clatter of a book or plate falling. A bark and distant, rushing rhythm of what sounded like a river as Vivi’s senses dim. Her heart slowing, vision darkening, scents, feeling, all fading.

Until she didn’t feel anything.

And then... something cold and wet, smushed against her skin and lapping at the large, fuzzy pulse behind her eyes. Her neck and head aches, and something scratchy and somewhat push presses against her cheek. A soft clammer of sound fizzes in and out of focus. One that’s close, that she can almost feel vibrating against her head, and another that’s far off. She can hardly latch onto the conversation, far too tired to even open her eyes.

A faint smell of pepperoni, mushrooms and garlic swirls in the air and she salivates. Gulping, a smell of citrus and apples also mix in, then earthy... a candle, she’s sure. Arthur... he lit it often when they were on trips... he mentioned before that it helped her reme-

The pulse in her eyes throb, and Vivi can’t stop herself from hissing and pressing her cold, clammy hands against her burning eyelids.

The wet smush sniffles and it’s loud breath makes Vivi flinch. Only there was a heavy weight pinning against her hip, shuffling to keep balance.

Wait.

Vivi opens her eyes with a sharp inhale, eyes wide and stinging from the headache that refused to stop, and a gleam of light that immediately shot into her eye.

“Ow- fuck!” Vivi grits her teeth, covering her eyes. But the weight on her hip and the scratchiness under her chin didn’t stop. Soft fur and hard claws pinch as her side as it scrambles to move, and something large shifts her pillow-

Now shielding her eyes, Vivi forces her eyes open.

Instantly, she’s met with Mystery’s, and he makes a soft noise as he shuffles off her body. She herself was laying on her side on the couch, tucked snuggly into her pillow. The kitchen light was dimmed, and the only specks of light was candles that glowed at the end of the couch and something bright behind her.

“Mystery, c-cmon, be careful! You’re tearing her up.” A voice scolds- scratchy and course and almost annoyed.

Shit. As soon as Mystery slides off her, Vivi props her elbow against the cushion, which bumps against something distinctly hard and what faintly smelled of sweat.

Vivi twists her head, and she squints up at the culprit who had her head pretty much in his lap. Arthur’s elbows were up in surprise, lips tight. A golden halo of light shines around his head- blacking the lamp entirely...

“V-Vivi, cmon lay back down-” he starts, hesitantly letting his hand fall on her head, petting it gently- trying to get her to lay back down.

“S-stop it, I’m up.” Swatting it away, Vivi sucks in her breath and winces, pushing herself up onto her knees- unfortunately also putting her eyes back into the spot light of the lamp. The couch shifts the smallest bit as Arthur relaxes.

“You okay?” he asks in a soft voice, eyes darting from hers to something over her shoulder, probably Mystery.

She opens her mouth, before nodding her head. “Ye-yeah, I’m good.” Her elbows shook, locking up for the most support. “Uh.. mind filling me in on what went down?”

Arthur nods uncertainly, “Your memory kinda... it went kinda fucky-wucky?” He chuckles anxiously and the smile on his face is too tense to fool her. He clears his throat, “but you start. What do you remember?”

Eyes fluttering shut, Vivi leans against the couch and presses her palm against her eye. “I just got dressed, and we had a movie night... I thought I heard you in the kitchen so I went inside and -“ her memory fizzles, refusing to recreate anything more than blurry shapes. Furrowed eyebrows, heavy hands, an imposing mass, purple... hair...?

Vivi’s heart drops, “And I saw Lewis.” Fuck! It was Lewis! Of course it was Lewis, what the fuck-! Breathing quickly, Vivi struggles to twist herself around to get to her feet, even as Arthur jumps to stop her.

His hands grab her shoulders, but it wasn’t what stopped Vivi in her tracks.

Besides the hall entrance, at the foot of the couch, Mystery sat there and watched her. But behind him, peering behind the wall and directly at her, was Lewis.

His face twisted into a miserable frown, eyebrows twisted, but obviously more concerned about her-

“Lewis!” Vivi’s legs launch her forward, and her hand misses the table she expected to be there and she collapses against the rug. All the men gasp and jump up, but Vivi is fast to push herself up and nearly charge the ghost who froze upon realizing that she was diving for him.

“Lew-“ Vivi grips his shirt for support and his arms wrap around her, making up for the shakiness that took hold of her legs. Vivi doesn’t think about it, instead forcing herself to look at his worried, glimmering eyes. “Lewis, I am so sorry.”

”Vivi, it’s okay-“

“No, it’s not!” Her headache thrashes. “I didn’t - I didn’t realize it was you and I’m sorry, I -“ her voice falls short. How could she even apologize? How do she explain sudden terror at the sight of her boyfriend?

“Vivi, hold on.” Arthurs behind her now, his fleshy arm looping behind her back, and together he and Lewis shuffle the three of them to sit on the couch, with Vivi sat in the middle, held steady. Mystery makes his way over and sits between her knees, not saying anything but baracading her in.

Arthur scoots himself so that way he faced both of them better. “Okay, let’s talk, but let’s just be chill, be calm.” He glances from both Lewis to Vivi, but he was the most frazzled, his hand up and trembling lightly as the cogs turn in his head.

Eventually, Lewis leans over and pats his thigh, signaling Arthur to calm down, and the three of them sit quietly for a moment.

Lewis is the first one to break the silence, fingers drifting over hers. ”How are you feeling, Vivi?”

“Like shit.” Vivi winces and mentally kicks herself. It wasn’t a lie by any means, but Jesus she could have said it better. “I-I mean I feel.. fine. I have a headache and feel a bit guilty, you know.” She waves her hand uncommittedly and lets out a sigh, unable to hold his gaze. “Sorry about all that.”

”Don’t be, it’s not your fault.”

“It feels a bit like it.”

Arthur clears his throat, “that doesn’t change anything. You didn’t choose to have memory issues.”

Frowning, Vivi sinks into the cushion, “like how you didn’t choose to do the... yeah.”

”Exactly. I’m just... glad I caught you.”

Vivi winces, and she lulls her head to look at him.

“So I fainted?”

”Yes. I managed to catch you, but Arthur mainly helped me get you set up.”

“Which was on your lap.” Vivi tried to be the smallest bit humorous, but Arthur takes a moment to return the smile.

“We-well! Lewis asked me to have you there! He..”

”I wanted him to make sure you were still breathing,” Lewis admits, ”I figured it would be better if you saw him there instead of me if you woke up while Mystery... treated you.”

“Oh...” gulping thickly, Vivi nods, “yeah, I get that... thanks. And thanks for the candle.” The smell of apples of earth and citrus was pleasant, allowing a warmth to spread over and cover the receding shame.

”Arthur said it was your favorite.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Vivi shrugs, letting her eyes fall shut, and she hums. “Recovery ritual or not, I like it. Thank you guys.”

The two nod and shuffle close, wrapping Vivi in a hug.

“Of course, Vi’.”

”We’re just happy that you’re okay.”

#mysterymarch2021 #mystery skulls animated #arthur kingsmen #lewis pepper #Vivi yukino #lewvithur #eage fanfic #mystery March 2021