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feelbokkie · 8 months

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Ephemeral Love | Chapter 12

pairing: Seungmin x fem reader

genre: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, university au, right person wrong time, minor character death

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: swearing, mention of throwing up

summary: Does love last forever, or is it fleeting? For university juniors Kim Seungmin and Seo Y/n, it's love at first sight but sometimes you meet your soulmate at the wrong time.

word count: 2,239 (unedited)

screenshot count: 2

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You whimper in pain as the pounding on your bedroom worsens the intense throbbing going in your head. You're currently laying down on your bedroom floor. You managed to make it to your bathroom and halfway back to your bed before you just let yourself crumple to the floor. Your room was too bright and moving around too much made you nauseous and your head hurt more. You laid down on the floor with the intention of getting medicine and taking a quick nap before you had to leave for work once you felt a little better. The was 2, maybe 3 hours ago, it could be even longer. You're not entirely sure. You're not in a position to see your clock from where you are and your room is still too bright for you to open your eyes.

You're having a migraine, that much you knew. What exactly caused it this time is debatable. You only get migraines when you're stressed. You used to get them more frequently back in high school when the drama surrounding Changbin and your father started. And then again when you first started college. But, you've managed to keep it under control. You couldn't even remember the last time you had a migraine off the top of your head, thinking also exacerbating your symptoms. You didn't even realize your headaches were a warning sign for a migraine, you thought it was you've been having trouble sleeping after you spent less time at Seungmin's apartment.

“Okay, fine but I’m pretty sure she’s at that idiot’s apartment—oh fuck. I’ll call you back in a minute.” You whimper again at Jisung's loud, panicked voice.

"Please, be quite." You whisper, your own voice being too loud for you otherwise.

"Y/n, are you okay? Can you get up?" He says loudly again, he clearly hadn't heard you the first time.

"Jisung, please shut up." You try to say a little louder.

"What's wrong?" He moves your hair out of you face, causing you to squeeze your eyes tighter, the light shining through your eyelids.

"Quiet. Head hurts." You whisper one last time, trying fewer words so you don't have to talk as much.

Jisung reads your tear stained face and puts all the pieces of the puzzle together. He knows you get migraines and he knows how bad they can get, he's normally the one who takes care of you when you do. He quietly gets up and draws the blinds and curtains in your room. You have blackout curtains for moments like this. You hear him quietly shuffle around the room. You slowly open your eyes and breathe out in relief, squeezing them shut was also hurting your head more.

"Open your mouth," Jisung whispers. He was so quiet, you didn't know when he came back into the room.

You feel two small pills hit your tongue and a a little bit of water fill your mouth. You gingerly swallow the pills and mumble out a thank you.

"Come on, let's get up." You feel Jisung's hand on your back.

"I can't,"

"You have to. I promise your bed is comfier than the floor. Plus, you can hide under the blanket." He says softly. You're not sure if it's the tone in his voice or the volume of it or a combination of the two but you feel like crying again. He hasn't spoken this nicely to you in so long, it's almost foreign.

"Okay," You whisper back. You let Jisung slowly guide you up and lead you to your bed. You climb in and cover yourself in your blanket. Jisung quietly leaves again. You silently pray that the medicine kick in soon or it'll knock you out. You don't care which one.

You think about all of the things that are currently adding stress to your life right now. If you could figure it out now, you might be able deal with it when you feel a little better and prevent your migraine from getting worse.

First, there was your birthday dinner with your family. You know it's your idea to invite Changbin, but the idea of your dad and Changbin in the same room for the first time in years is daunting. The last time they were together they got into a huge screaming match. You're hoping you can try to resolve things next week. They both love you enough to not ruin your birthday with their pettiness, but that doesn't mean that they won't still end up fighting in the slightest. But you also knew that dinner next week meant that you were most likely going to get a lecture from your father at some point. You had gotten a D on the paper for you wrote for your preventable diseases course. You've never earned lower than an A in your entire life, and in all honesty, you didn't really care. Sure, being a paper that didn't hold much weight, it dropped your grade down to a B. What you were worried about was how your father was going to react.

Since attending JYPU, he's made you submit bi-weekly grade checks. He wanted to make sure his money was being well spent. You didn't really mind about it at first, you knew your grades were never going to slip. But now, you're not sure how he was going to react. He's always been more lenient on you compared to Iseul and Changbin. But you remember how bad the lectures Changbin would get are. He wouldn't get mad at your birthday dinner, but he was still going to say something. As ridiculous as it sounds, he could stop tuition payments or make you move back home if he thought that living with your brother is jeopardizing your future.

And then there is your one-sided fight with Jisung. You just want your best friend back but you know that there is no way for you two to go back to the way that you were. You went through every interaction you've ever had with Jisung, looking at it with a lense of him liking you. He's been flirting with you for years and you've been too oblivious to realize it was more than just casual banter. It's laughable, just not right now.

"Sit up," Jisung whispers, reentering the room.

You slowly sit, the medicine finally starting to kick in. Your head still feels like there is a loud speaker playing music so loud that you only feel the bass and several knives are slowly stabbing your brain all at once, but it was slightly tolerable now.

Jisung hands you a bowl of something. You take it, putting a small spoonful in your mouth. It's leftovers from last night's dinner.

"Thanks," You mumble.

"No problem." He says quietly, sitting on the foot of your bed.

It's so dark, you can't really see anything. You can't see the anxious look on Jisung's face as he waits for you to finish eating.

"I'm sorry," You whisper.

"You don't have to apologize for being sick. You know you get migraines." He gently places a hand on your knee.

"No," you take another spoonful, "I'm sorry for...not liking you back."

Jisung lets out a loud breathe. He removes his hand off your knee and stares at your shadowed figure. He can imagine the sad, pitiful look you have on your face. He's seen it enough over the years. He knows that your migraines are stressed induced, and he feels a little guilty knowing that he might be the reason why you're in pain now.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. We can't help who we fall in love with. Ah, not in love, in like with rather. I'm not in love with you or anything like that. I'm just--"

"Ji, volume." You warn. He was getting to excited with his explantion.

"Sorry, I just--I'm sorry, okay? I was just upset but it was more to do with me being mad at myself than at you. It was just easier to take it out on you. And then after a while I felt bad about how I was treating you but I was too much of a coward to fix it."

"You were hurt. I know that your behavior was shit, but you were hurt. Still kind of mad at you for your tantrum, but I'll get over it. Life's too short." You take one last spoonful before putting the bowl to the side. You didn't eat all of the food that Jisung brought you, if you ate more you would probably actually throw up.

"You're too nice, you know that? I treated you like shit for almost 2 months, you shouldn't be forgiving me that easily. You should like, be making me grovel and beg for your forgiveness."

"You're loud when you grovel, I don't think I could handle that right now."

"I can grovel later."

"I will actually lose all respect for you."

"You respected me? Me? The guy you've seen walk into the patio door more times than you can count?" You start to laugh and wince in pain.

"Please don't make me laugh. It hurts."

"Okay, okay, we'll talk more later. Try to take a nap for now. I'll leave my room door open and my ringer on just in case." Jisung slowly stands up and takes the bowl from your bedside table. He gives you a quick hug before he heads for the door.

"Ji?" You hum, laying back down. Your headache is slowly starting to go away and making you sleepy.

"Yeah?"

"Love you," You whisper innocently. Exhaustion and your headache not letting you think properly about your words. You two would often tell each other you loved each other, it was a habit for you two.

You don't see the sad smile he gives you as his right hand rests on the door knob. He knows you don't mean it in the way that he wishes you did. And he knows that there's a chance you never will. He knows you mean it innocently, like you always have.

"Love you too. Get some rest, I'll check on you later." He whispers before leaving you alone.

"Oh my god," You groan.

You woke up from your nap, head pounding again. The pills clearly worn off. You've spent past few hours drifitng in and out of sleep. As some point you had enough in you to walk to the kitchen and get yourself a cup of water while wearing sunglasses.

"Are you awake?" You hear a familiar voice whisper next to you.

"Minnie?" You mumble, turning your head in the direction of the voice.

"Yeah, I'm here." You feel the bed shift a bit.

"What...why...when did you get here?" You ask, slowly turning over more to face him.

You can't really see him, your room is still dark. You only see a part of his face, lit up by the small clip light attached to what you could only assume is one of his textbooks.

"I got here about an hour and a half ago. I called you after class and your roommate answered, told me you were sick. I came to keep you company. Brought you some soup." You feel his cool fingers brush some of your hair off of your face.

"Why?" You question. Not that you aren't grateful Seungmin is here, but you're not entirely sure you're ready for him to deal with you and your migraines.

"I told you, you're sick."

You feel the bed slight move and hear the sink and your bathroom a few seconds later. Not too long after, the bed dips again and you feel something cool on your forehead.

"You didn't have to come." You mumble, closing your eyes. The light from the small lamp hurting your head.

"I know I didn't have too, I wanted to. How's your head?" You feel him move you hair from getting wet by the compress.

"If you really liked me you you take one of my pillows and smother me to put me out of my misery." You quietly groan.

"How about I smother you with my love instead?" You feel his lips press into your cheek.

"I'd love that, but I don't think that would help me much right now." You sigh.

"Here," you feel Seungmin's hand slide under your back, "sit up."

You slowly get you with Seungmin's help. The bed moves quite a bit as Seungmin crawls behind you. You whimper in pain from the sudden jostling, earning quite apologizes from Seungmin. Once he settles comfortably behind you, he gently pulls your back against his chest. You rest your head on him, just below his chin.

"You have to wait a couple of hours before you can takes some more. But I did some reading while you were sleeping and a lot of people on the internet said that this was supposed to help with migraines. Just let me know if it isn't helping or starts hurting." Seungmin whispers just as his cool fingers find their way on your scalp. Seungmin applies gently pressure and slowly massages your scalp. Surprisingly, it is helping a bit.

"That feels nice actually. It's helping a bit."

"Then I'll do this for a while. Just relax, try to fall back asleep if you can." He presses another kiss to the top of your head before resuming massaging your scalp.

—

Buy me a coffee?

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imtooscaredforthis · 3 months

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Entrapment

Chapter Twenty Six: Sore Loser

Mentions of: Trauma, Sleep Deprivation, Paranoia, Neurosis, Stalking, and angst

A/N: Mid semester and dying…pray for me y’all…I hope you enjoy!

Tags: @elentiyaiswriting @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya @vandeaad @the-fandoms-georgie

You showered three times over the next morning. You didn’t care how the hot water burned your new cuts, or how your skin was all pruned, you washed and washed until you felt clean, on the outside at least.

You couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror after. Couldn’t see the cuts he left on you. Especially not the heart-shaped carving he left on your hip. You felt so disgusted with yourself for letting him do that..for letting him defile you…and even more disgusted with the small part of yourself that enjoyed it. But you knew that wasn’t your common sense or anything, it was just your body’s reaction.

You hated what he did to you that night. You hated him. And you hated yourself for letting it happen.

What made it worse was that he had all this control over you. He could use you whenever he wanted. The moment you said no, the moment you fought back, he’d kill everyone you cared about. You wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow found out where your family lived and threatened them too.

You felt a shiver go down your spine at that thought, panic and fear surging through you. You should call your mother and check up on them, but Ghostface could be listening, and the last thing you wanted was to draw attention to them. They’re safe and that’s all that matters.

Days dragged by and you couldn’t help but wonder if and when he was going to play another one of his sick games. If he was going to cut you up or use you like some fucked up sex toy. It was quiet, and while you were slightly relieved with the peace, you took advantage of it in any way you could.

—

You poor thing. Ever since that night, he played with you, you’ve changed. You have been changing, ever since this all started, but that night really changed you.

You don’t eat as much as you used to and don’t sleep as well, the dark circles hanging heavily under your eyes. You’ve even started to change your clothing, more pants and long-sleeved button-ups, hiding yourself. Protecting yourself.

You’ve become much less social and even avoid your friends, hardly making small talk or any conversation whatsoever, focusing on work instead. You’re starting to shut people out, to put up walls. You think you’re protecting them, but in reality, it’s Danny’s way of pushing you to isolate yourself. So either way, you’ll have no one left.

You haven’t given up, though. Danny’s not sure you ever will. No matter how much he breaks you, no matter how much he hurts you, you’ll bounce back even stronger than before.

You’re a fighter, a survivor. And it’s something he loves about you.

He watched as you worked for hours and hours at the office where you feel safe trying to analyze every scrap of information you can find, trying to piece together the puzzle of his identity, those little cogs turning in your brain until you got frustrated and gave up for the night and went home.

You don’t even feel safe in your apartment, spending most nights in your car. But you should know that you’re not safe anywhere…It doesn’t matter because like it or not, you always have to go back to your apartment, be it for a change of clothes or something else, you always come back. And wherever you go, he follows like a shadow..like a predator, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

—

You stretched your sore muscles, slipping off your jacket and climbing out from the backseat where you once had been sleeping. The windshield was all fogged up from the typical Florida humidity, and you wiped it away to see a light pink sky, the sun rising.

You had plenty of time before work and couldn’t help but wonder if you should head into your apartment for some clothes or go back to sleep for a little longer. But your train of thought completely stopped when you spotted something on your dashboard.

It was a Polaroid. You don’t remember bringing any pictures into your car, besides one of your family that you kept stashed in your glove compartment.

Your hands trembled as they clutched the photo. It was from that night, a look of euphoria on your face, and a gloved hand around your throat, Ghostface’s mask resting on your shoulder.

On the back, written in bold black Sharpie read the words “MISS YOU” with a little heart symbol. Your heart was pounding, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You almost screamed when your fingers brushed up against some foreign sticky substance on one of the corners you held.

You rubbed your hand against the seat, ridding yourself of the fluids, before tearing the Polaroid up into tiny pieces and throwing it out in the trash.

—

You still went to work at that. You refused to let him win, and staying at home would only make you feel more vulnerable. It was getting to the point that here was the only place that you felt safe.

“Hey, want to get drinks? Everyone’s going out and I thought it might be fun.” Jed offered, making you look up from your computer. Your coworkers were leaving, making you realize that it was closing time already. You shot him down almost instantly. “No thanks, I have to work late.”

“Seriously? On a Friday? C’mon, it’ll be fun.” Rachel pressed you. You shook your head once again. “Maybe another time.”

With that, she shrugged her shoulders and left, dropping it. But Jed didn’t. He lingered by watching as you continued to work, while you were hardly paying attention to him your eyes glued to your monitor.

“______, can we talk?” With a sigh, you turned away from the monitor, facing him. You thought you made it obvious that you weren’t in a talkative mood today.

“I’m just worried about you. You haven’t been yourself lately. You’ve been distant and much more focused on work. Not that it’s a bad thing, but I know it can take a toll-”

“Oh really, Jed? Can it really take a toll? I never knew that writing about an evil fucking psychopath serial killer could possibly take a toll. You’re so worried about me, but maybe you should be worried about yourself. In fact, you hardly seem to care about the fucked up things he’s done. Sometimes with the way you talk about him, I think you like doing this. I think you like the publicity and money you make off of him..Just go have your stupid drinks and leave me alone.”

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raspberrysmoon · 8 months

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soooo @rtcshipweeks day 13 is t4t... i give you t4t blackrose with transfem constance and newly cracked transmasc ocean

also this was written and 2am and subsequently edited later, so pls excuse (and point out) any typos or capital letters lol

ocean didn’t care for paying attention to herself much. if she could work, it didn’t matter.

until the cyclone.

something about the warehouse- and the weeks afterward in the hospital changed her. for the first time since she started school, she was alone with only her own thoughts.

and it certainly wasn’t fun.

the longer she thought, the less she comfortable she became. her skin began to itch, and she could feel the heat of tears on her cheeks if she laid silent for too long. she thought, at first, that she could outrun this. she started writing, drawing, she started using duolingo and had her mom bring in her crochet basket from a few years ago.

but eventually her hands started to hurt, and she ran out of tries.

and it came back.

so she started watching shows and movies. she would ask the choir for recommendations and add them to a list that she finished every week, if not less. she watched anything she could get on netflix, and started to comb through hulu and disney+ as well. it only lasted a few weeks, though. she practically finished everything she could bear to watch.

and it came back. as soon as she let the room go silent, it was back.

and so, music. she made playlist after playlist, about her friends, her family, other classmates, activities and even teachers and their classes. she started trying to write out popular songs, and she would write out lyrics how she heard them and check it against the official lyrics.

she tried to learn about cars, and history, and religions, and food. she quickly became able to hold a conversation with mischa in ukrainian, and watched noels french movies and understood them. she started trying to learn mandarin, even.

but it didn’t work. and the itch came back.

and after months of trying to ignore it, she broke. she clawed at her arms, her thighs, her stomach- anything she could reach, really. she never felt the sob bubble in her throat when she scratched, but when she stopped she felt her throat close, and her chest tighten.

but she had to stop. every time, she had to stop. nurses would see marks if she made them, and her friends would notice if she started to hide her arms from them.

and every time, she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the pathetic whimper that escaped her when she released her skin.

she kept up a routine, for a while. she would wait until everyone else was asleep, and she would scratch. not too much, but enough to hurt. she would muffle her cries as she fell asleep, and wake up the next morning exhausted, and blame it on her healing wounds.

but it couldn’t last forever. she knew that, deep down. someone would find her, or hear her, or she would scratch too hard and leave a mark.

and sure enough, she hit two of three boxes. always the overachiever.

“ocean?” constance. “are you okay?”

she dug her nails into her wrist with a muffled hiss. “i’m okay! just struggling to fall asleep, is all.”

constance rounded the curtain slowly. “are you sure?”

ocean pushed her wrist down, keeping her nails pressed into it. “yep! i think i'm right at the lull between pain med doses.” she forced a grin, praying silently that her friend would leave.

instead constance looked at oceans hands. “why do you always do that?” she asked softly, “i hear you at night sometimes.”

ocean shrugged, careful not to release the pressure. “my arm itches sometimes.” she lied smoothly, “i scratch it.”

“you only ever do it at night after everyone else is asleep,” constance pointed out quietly, “does it only itch at night?”

ocean nodded slowly. that was a good lie to use, actually. it was partially true, even, so it wasn’t really even a lie.

only a half-truth.

“i’m sure you could ask for anti-itch cream.” she murmured, walking over and gently taking oceans wrist. constance pulled at her fingers until she let up pressure and ocean choked on a half-sob.

constances head shot up in alarm, and ocean tugged her arm away, pulling tight to her torso.

“really, connie, i’m okay.” ocean promised softly, “you should go back to bed.”

constance nearly scoffed at her. “like i’m going to bed when you’re hurting.”

ocean shook her head. “i’m okay. it just.. itches sometimes. when it’s quiet like this.” also technically not a lie. she really was doing fine, and it really did just itch sometimes. it just.. hurt to not itch.

constance sighed, “scoot over. we’re having a sleepover tonight.”

and tonight turned into a week and a half. a week and a half of ocean carefully waiting until she knew her friend was asleep before scratching lightly and falling asleep.

she was okay. she was perfectly fine with this routine. until, of course, she wasn’t.

she woke up shaking. her whole body. all she could think about was the itch, and scratching at herself didn’t help. nobody noticed until she failed to keep her first sob quiet. constance rounded the corner, and ocean shattered in her best friends arms.

she sobbed for what felt like hours. she could distantly feel constance pinning her hands apart, but she couldn’t even bring herself to fight it.

constance. she had mentioned, once, how dysphoria felt. she said it felt like ants, or fire, crawling under her skin. ocean could feel the ants. and they were certainly crawling.

she cried herself to sleep in constances arms that morning. and she had quite the dream.

“river! dude, we’re gonna be late.” noel pushed open the door of the bedroom.

river hummed, adjusting his hair for the fifteenth time that night. “i know- just give me another minute.”

he could hear noels eye roll, and a hand soon came to rest of his hip, turning him away from the mirror. noel reached up with a small sigh, tucking a stray piece of hair into place and smoothing down rivers collar.

“i promise, riv, you look amazing.” he giggled a bit to himself, “constance is going to drop dead when she sees you.”

river bit his lip, looking back to the mirror. he couldn’t say he looked bad in the deep purple velvet of his suit jacket, but compared to noel in his sparkly, bright red dress, he looked like nothing.

"okay, lets go."

short, fiery red hair, pale hazel eyes and too many freckles. river. what a name. ocean chewed on her lip, thinking back to the boy in the suit.

the gift of prophecy is more often a curse. A curse of disbelief, denial and banishment.

river o'connell rosenberg. that was a name she quite liked, actually.

river bit his lip.

ocean bit her lip.

river bit his lip.

maybe this is what constance meant when she talked about the click. the itch calmed a little. river pressed a hand into his arm. the itch, once in his arms and legs and stomach, settled itself in his chest. he closed his eyes, pressing a hand in the middle of his rib cage.

he allowed the itch to be. a reminder of himself. of river, and of ocean, though she certainly wasn’t gone.

he settled deeper into constances arms, and waited for her to wake.

when she did, he'd sit up, hold her hand, and ask her a question.

how did you know you were trans? specifically that, i mean. how did you know it wasn’t something else?

and constance would shrug. it felt the best, she told him quietly, it felt less like a box, and more like a building. like a home.

he'd pause, and let himself think for a moment. how would you feel if i was trans?

constance would hum. you’re my best friend, she'd say simply, you couldn’t change that if you tried.

can you call me river? he'd whisper, letting his gaze drop to their hands, now intertwined.

i'd call you anything you wanted me to, river. she'd promise.

and for once, river believed her.

#ride the cyclone #rtc #rtc ship weeks #constance blackwood #constance rtc #ocean o'connell rosenberg #ocean rtc

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zuzajs14 · 1 year

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Writing in destiel (fic update)

"Come on, buddy. One last miracle,” he begged, again that day, enclosing a friend's smaller hand in his wasted ones. "For me, Cas. Come on." And so he waited. Knowing well, that he should long be on his way to help Sam. But leaving Cas was not an option. Not here. Not ever again. Not like this. "I need you," he whispered.

After long, long minutes, during which he cried silently, Cas's eyelids moved. Very slowly at first, then a bit faster. The fog in his gaze began to clear up, and finally, his eyes were filled with life again as he looked straight into the tear-stained green of Dean's irises. And that was enough. And so Dean finally kissed him. Intense, aggressive but short. With blood on both their faces, with sea salt all over them. He was drowning again. Drowning in Cas.

There was a familiar hand on his chest, but no strength in it when ever so slightly, it pushed him away. He obediently stopped, against his own will and body, both screaming for more, more, more. But it was Cas and Cas didn’t want him that way. It was probably completely stupid and selfish to do that. Overwhelm the angel even more, as he just got his consciousness back. Dean knew he would beat himself over this later. Right now he had to control his impulses, all drawing him closer to Cas.

"You're gonna suffocate me, Dean," Cas whispered resignedly, closing his eyes gently. His weakened hand was still in place on Dean's chest, just above his maddeningly pounding heart. And that was enough, even if he was not to receive more until the end of his life, Castiel was alive.

It was enough for Dean to laugh, and the tears, joyful this time, still tied to the recent weakness he had felt, ran down his cheeks. The unusual outburst caught the eye of Cas, still propped up behind his back by Dean's firm hand. The angel was in the arms of the elder Winchester and was just beginning to realize it.

His mouth still wet from a kiss, moved. Opened and closed. As if Cas wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

"You are hurt, Dean," was what he went with at the end, blushing a bit, as he tried to sit up on his own.

Yeah, Dean wasn’t going to let that bullshit pass. His arm stayed at Castiel's back, helping him, propping him into the right position. They would have to stand up and move soon, but for now, he was ready to take it slow. For Cas’s own good. They were both badly mauled. Patched only provisionally with pieces of torn clothes. Dean's shirt looked ridiculous right now, almost half torn, revealing an equally shabby t-shirt.

"We both are, genius," he shook his head, resting his forehead on his best friend's shoulder. He felt so relieved. "And you can’t use your mojo in this state, so don’t even try. Or I am going to strangle your moronic ass."

"That would be counterproductive," said dead-ass serious Cas.

A loud laughter escaped Dean's mouth. He squeezed Cas, hiding his face in the angel’s arm, as a few more tears found their way out of his eyes. Tiredness took over him again. So he shut up, took a deep breath, then another, and pushed himself off Castiel. They probably won't be so open and intimate till the next near-death experience, so he felt reluctant to let go. But life goes on and there were still things to do.

Blue eyes meet his green ones instantly. Looking soft and sad and sorry.

You don’t need to be sorry, he thought. I do.

Or maybe Cas was sorry for a whole other reason. Not about the situation, the fight, the monster, and all. Because there was no reason for that. They all fell pray of fucking horse-monster. But there was this other thing. Cas could be sorry for Dean, for his lovesick ass, aching to kiss, touch, hold, cry… Yeah. He wasn’t dumb. But he also didn’t want the pity of a being that could never love him back.

You don’t expect stars to look down at you and feel the same amazement. You don’t expect the sea to stare back and change so it could tell you all its secrets. And so you don’t expect an angel to love a human. Doesn’t mean you will love them any less.

And so Dean smiled, accepting the hurt in his heart. That one was going to be ever-present. Because now he knew. He was sure.

I love you.

The ever unsaid, I love you.

Whole fic on ao3

#my writing #destiel fic #destiel fanfiction #spn #supernatural #spn fic #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #dean winchester #castiel #dean and cas #deancas #read on ao3 #ao3 update #case fic #idiots in love #fanfiction

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nebularyo · 4 years

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“Write it down”

#idv #lucanort #nortluca #norton campbell #luca balsa #identity v #pretty fun game ! love the characters #next time i draw them let's pray it hurts less

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bubblegumspacebxtch · 2 years

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your imagines are amazing!!!! U should do one where fez is mad at u and y/n makes it up to him ♥️♥️

hi anon!! so this request was pretty chill but I went ahead and made it smut because u can never really go wrong with that shit imo lol there's fluff at the end tho because im soft for protective Fez but yeah hope you enjoy this one!!

summary: you don't listen to Fez which ends up putting you in danger. he ignores you because of this. you make it up to him tho. who knew head could prompt one to admit their feelings.

mentions events from Euphoria season 1 episode 2.

warnings || 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral (m), gagging, mentions of violence, guns, and drugs, a bit of hair pulling too if u squint

Should Have Listened

You don't know how long you can take the silent treatment. You knew Fez was upset, and you really couldn't blame him. You were on your way to his place, calling him while on the drive there. "Hey, baby." You hear his gruff voice say on the other line. "Hey. I'm coming over." You turn a corner, already less than ten minutes away from his house. "Right now?" Fez asks. "Nah, Y/N. Maybe in an hour. I got someone coming over for business," he continues before you have a chance to reply. "What? But I'm already on my way there. I'm sure whoever it is won't mind." You hear him groan through the phone. "I'm not fucking around, Y/N. I don't want you around these dudes." Fez doesn't let you answer back, seeing as he was getting another call. "Y/N, just head back home, alright? I'll call you when you can come over." With that, he hangs up. You scoff at that, rolling your eyes at how dramatic you thought he was being while continuing to drive. A few minutes later you were already parking down his street.

Meanwhile, inside Fezco's house was Mouse making his regular drop of supplies. "Yo, Custer, toss me that bag." Mouse then proceeds to make the run down of the drugs he has on hand. As Custer starts doing the math, a knock on the door draws everyone's attention. "Fez? Open up," You say as you look up to where you know the camera outside is. Fez swears he starts hearing his heart beat so loud it might jump out of his chest. "Who the fuck is that?" Mouse turns to glare at Fez as Ash walks up to open the door. "Yo, chill out. That's just my girl." Mouse seems to calm down a bit, but that does nothing to lessen how threatening he makes himself out to be right now.

You greet Ash with a smile as he opens the door, but it quickly disappears upon seeing the people in the room. Some bald guy with face tattoos smirks upon seeing you. You turn to look at Fez who was looking at you desperately. He swears he's never prayed before in his life, but now seems like a good time to start. "Uh I'll just go ahead and stay in your room," you give Fez an unsure look as you start walking past the other dealers, attempting to make your way down the hall. "Nah, pretty girl. Stay here. Don't mind us," Mouse stops you in your tracks. As much as you didn't want to, your refusal would've made the situation all the more tense, making violence a possibility.

You settle on the couch opposite Fez, trying to take up as little space possible so as not to draw any more unwanted attention. "So, this your little bitch?" Mouse crouches down beside the couch in front of you. "My name is Mouse. It's a pleasure to meet you." He takes your hand in his, kissing it before turning to look at your boyfriend as he pulls away. Fez wanted to shoot Mouse right then and there, but he held back. He knew if he pulled out his gun and started shit, he'd risk getting you hurt. You were looking at Fez with pleading eyes, so much fear in them. Mouse takes a seat next to you, and you tried your best not to cringe as the couch dipped with his weight. "You ever try Fentanyl?" he asks as he shifts closer. Mouse extends his hand to move your hair off your shoulder, and you feel him breathing down your neck. "Nah, she's good, bro." Mouse turns to glower at Fez who answered for you. The two of them now shooting silent threats as they glare at one another. The tension in the air thickens. It was then you notice the subtle movement of Fezco's hand as he reaches for something in between the couch cushions. You try your best not to visibly tremble at the scene.

Mouse doesn't like being threatened, but at the same time he reminded himself that business with Fez was good. If he were to pull a stunt now, he knew that would jeopardize that. Before things could've gotten worse, Custer finishes counting the money. "It's always a pleasure doing business with you," Mouse says as he stands up from the couch. He glances at you one more time before leaving out the door with Custer in tow.

Now, in his bedroom, you watch Fez change clothes, ignoring you as he does so. You awkwardly stand there as he takes his jacket off, leaving his shirt then changing into shorts. "I'm sorry." You try again to get a reaction from him, but he simply grabs his phone, and gets comfortable on the bed. You let out a frustrated sigh as Fez continues to scroll on his phone, acting like you weren't there. You let out a long exhale before taking your sweater and shoes off. From the corner of his eye, Fez watches you settle next to him, but you kept yourself at a distance. Upset or not, he wasn't getting rid of you that easily, and you're about to grab his attention.

Fez feels you shuffling before you move to straddle him. He looks up at you with an unclear expression as you look him straight in the eye from where you sat. "What are you-" Fez stops mid-sentence as you swiftly lean down to plant your lips on his, the action causing your hips to move a bit while on top of him. Fez drops his phone beside him, and wraps his hands around your waist, almost as if on instinct. You feel his hold tighten as you deepen the kiss while starting to roll your hips. Fez twitches beneath you as you grind on him, already turned on just by having you so close to him.

You pull away momentarily to kiss down his neck, sucking lightly on the skin below his ear. Fez shudders as you continue down to his collarbones. His grip on you loosens as you shift lower, positioning yourself in between his spread legs. You lift his shirt to kiss around his lower belly, and Fez lets out a shaky exhale at the feeling. You look up to see him already watching you as you skim around the waistband of his shorts before tugging them down. You trace the pad of your fingers on his crotch, around his cock. You watch as it gets bigger, looking painfully hard. Making eye contact with Fez again, you wrap your hand around his base. Fuck, he's thick. His fat cock barely fits in your palm, your thumb and the rest of your fingers not even close to meeting.

A moan leaves his throat as you start stroking him. Fez jerks his hips at you squeezing his cock as you brush your thumb over the swollen head. His breath quickens, and he moans your name making you pump faster. You couldn't help but smile at how Fez looked right now; eyes closed, fists balled on his sides. You spread his precum before hovering over his cock. You feel his eyes on you. Can't ignore me now, can ya, you thought to yourself. You stuck your tongue out to lick his tip. Fez groans above you, but he couldn't savor the feeling for long because before he knew it you'd swallowed him, hollowing your cheeks.

"Fuck, Y/N." His hands find the back of your head, lacing his fingers through your hair in a gentle hold. You draw your head back, slowly dragging him out of your mouth. You moan at the feeling of the vein on is cock against your tongue. You try to look up at him again, but his eyes are closed in bliss at the pleasure your warm wet mouth was giving. The wet sounds of your gagging as you take him deeper fill the room. Fez wills himself to look at you, your plump lips stretched around his cock as your throat bulges. "Baby, please." His addled mind not really knowing what he was begging for. You moan into him, and Fez couldn't help thrusting his hips.

With your hands twisting around the parts of him you couldn’t take down your throat, you suck harder, the sound of it echoing off the walls. Your hold on him gets tighter, moving your hand up and down faster this time. You then push as much of him down your throat. You feel his muscles tensing as his cock throbs inside you. "Shit... oh fuck," Fez grunts as he comes, hard. He releases into your mouth, and you attempt to swallow everything, but a few drops dribble on your chin. Fez struggles to catch his breath as he keeps your gaze. You use your thumb to gather his cum that spilled before sucking your finger into your mouth. Fez swears he would've cum again just watching you do that.

"C'mere." Fez gestures for you to lie down on his arm. You do just that, snuggling into his side as you wrap your arms around his torso. Fez leans down to kiss you as he rubs his thumb on your cheek. He pulls away to rest his forehead on yours, quietly staring at you before speaking. "Look, Y/N. I know you ain't bothered with what I do, but that don't mean I want you around that shit." For a split second you could see the worry in his eyes again as he thought back to what happened a few hours ago, how things could've escalated, and you wouldn't be in his arms right now. "I know. I'm really sorry. What I did was stupid." You hide your face in his neck, shying away from him. A couple of seconds in silence pass before Fez speaks up again. "I'd do anything to protect you," Fez confesses. "Can't lose you." You look up at him, his admission making a smile form on your lips. "You won't lose me," you promise him, and Fez smiles before leaning down to kiss you again.

#fezco #fezco x reader #fezco smut #fezco imagine #fezco fluff #fez imagine #fezco euphoria #euphoria imagines #euphoria #euphoria s2 #angus cloud

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seijorhi · 2 years

Text

SPIDER LILY

FINAL GOODBYE

“I’ll pray to meet you again in another life. For now, I have to settle with a farewell, though.”

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: blood, murder, character death, reader death, mentions of gore, yandere, serial killer oikawa <33

“Detective?”

His voice echoes through the stacks, rougher than you’re used to, laboured – but no less mocking.

You ignore it, focusing instead on the weight of the gun in your hand, on calming your heart, steadying your breath. Your torch is gone – dropped somewhere near the doors, you think – the power in the warehouse cut before you’d even arrived. Stumbling through the darkness, you only have the dim light of your cracked phone to see.

To silently follow the trail of blood, the splatters so dark against the concrete floor they almost appear black.

You’d fired two shots. One hit him in the shoulder, a nice, clean through and through. It’d slow him down a little, hurt like a bitch, but it wouldn’t cause the amount of blood you’re seeing. A gut shot, maybe – it was too dark for you to be certain. And yet with every step you creep forward, there’s more. Not just on the floor, but smeared over the boxes that line the narrow stacks. As if he’d stumbled and caught himself on the shelves, and then kept on limping forwards.

How much blood could he lose before it killed him? Surely less than this, you think. They’d taught you the exact percentage back in school, but your mind only draws a blank as you inch forward. You can smell it too, that sharp, overpowering metallic tang that lingers unpleasantly on your tongue.

“Do you believe in soulmates, Detective?” he pants, apparently unbothered by your silence.

Closer now.

Swallowing tightly, your finger, poised just above the trigger, trembles – and yet, as you dart round the corner to the next stack, you find nothing but more blood. Just like the others before.

“The ancient Greeks believed that once upon a time, humans were born with four arms, four legs and two heads, and that Zeus, fearing the power of these perfect creatures, split them in two.” A wet, shuddery breath, followed by a laugh. “They’d be doomed to wander the earth for the rest of their lives, trying to find the other half of their soul.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you don’t dare voice the question sitting like a lump in your throat. He’s delusional, you know this, but–

“You felt it that night, didn’t you?” Oikawa pauses for a moment, as if he truly expects you to answer him. That – or the pain and the blood loss was finally getting to him. “As if you’d been walking around blind your whole life, and suddenly there was light, and colour… beauty. You and I were made for each other. Two halves of the same soul, bound in this life and whatever comes next.”

Truthfully, you had felt something that night you’d let him pull you from the bar, his hand slipped in the back pocket of your jeans, his lips hungrily kissing at your jaw. Not whatever cosmic binding he seemed convinced of, but a gnawing sense of unease that you’d tried desperately to ignore, even then.

It was the expression on his face, the way he’d stared as he fucked you, kissed you until you couldn’t breathe – pupils blown wide, that manic, feverish infatuation that felt wholly out of place for a drunken one night stand.

And now you can’t think of that night without seeing those poor girls, carved up and left in pieces, the messages he’d left for you. Nausea roils in your stomach.

“You’re bleeding out, you know,” you say, glad that your voice at least is somewhat steady. One foot in front of the other – he can’t be far now. “Let me help you–”

“It’s a little late for that,” he calls out. “You have a good aim, Detective.”

Heart lodged in your throat, gun and phone braced in your hands, you step around the corner–

Another empty stack.

Fuck.

“I’ve never considered myself to be much of a religious man,” Oikawa rasps, his voice near enough to unnerve, but in the darkness and the looming labyrinth of boxes you can’t tell where it’s coming from. “But I’ll pray to find you in the next life. For now though…”

And something like dread pools in your gut as you force your legs to move, to keep inching towards the sound of those wet, gasping breaths.

“I suppose I’ll have to settle for goodbye, darling.”

You feel the warmth at your back a split second before his knife rips at your throat.

He’s there to catch you – the two of you collapsing back against the shelves as blood sprays with every frantic, dying beat of your heart. And as you gasp, choking and desperate, clawing weakly at his arms, Oikawa’s lips once more find your temple.

“I’ll see you soon,” he breathes.

Our Bloody Valentine Masterlist

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #ofc i had to start with him #hfjdjhfgjdk #our bloody valentine

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esamastation · 3 years

Text

Roy doesn't know exactly when the new alchemist joins them on the field.

It's a bad time - they're establishing a new camp in the town and the area is under constant assault, it seems. Small strikes on all sides, seemingly from nowhere, taking out a man there, another there, crippling a truck, taking out a road… The Ishvalans are using some sort of network of tunnels, the brass thinks, and it's Roy's job to smoke them out. So that's what he's been doing, seemingly all week… smoking out the supposed tunnels.

There are no tunnels, though. The Ishvalans are just getting desperate and in their desperation they're figuring out new methods. They have home field advantage and new tricks of camouflaging themselves in the rubble that used to be their home. Ruins of a people, blending in the ruins the Amestrians had made of their houses. They're learning to live with it, to work with it, because it's all they have - and they're getting good because they have little choice in the matter.

No one is listening to Roy when he points it out, though. There's a dismissiveness to the higher ups, when it comes to the evolution of Ishvalan tactics. "What are they doing now, praying for better guns?" As though this war, hasn't already gone on three times as long as originally projected.

Roy is thinking about it, staring at a crooked, unlit cigarette someone had put into his shaking hands, when he's introduced to the new alchemist.

"Good news, Mustang," Hughes says, with absolutely no joy in his cheerful smile, and less so in his cheerful voice. It sounds like he's chewing charcoal. "You're getting partner."

Roy looks up, his mind still in the meeting room, thinking about numbers on a map, how they didn't quite capture the reality of charred skeletons. It takes a moment for what he sees in front of him to sink in.

Another blue uniform, still pressed sharp and bright new under the beige overcoat that's supposed to protect it and it's wearer from the dust and heat of Ishval. What stands before him isn't a soldier though - it's barely a man. It's a short blond boy, no older than sixteen at most, with heavy non-regulation boots and silver watch chain at his hip.

The horror and disgust that wells up it's barely a blip before it's smothered under, oh, of course, and shit, are we here already? Then Roy stands up, puts the unlit cigarette away and holds out his right hand.

"Major Roy Mustang - the Flame Alchemist."

The blond boy smiles, crooked and sharp and just as mirthless as Hughes beside him. "Nick Flamel - the Fullmetal Alchemist." His grip is tight and brief, his hand gloved.

He'd be the newest youngest State Alchemist then. Roy had heard his record had been beaten, though he hadn't really paid attention to who or how.

Hughes looks between them and for a moment his eyes show a certain desperation. Then he covers it up and pats Flamel's shoulder. "Fullmetal here is stationed under you until he gets a hang of things - you'll show him the ropes, teach him what's what."

Keep him alive, is what Hughes' eyes say, and no wonder. Being as young as he is, the kid can't have much in the way of training. Alchemists don't need to go through basic, after all - they're not there to march or shoot guns or stand in lines. Flamel had probably just gotten his watch, his uniform, and a one way ticket to Ishval. To one of the worst, most contested zones at that. Shit.

Did the brass send the kid here to die?

"What's your specialty - metallurgical transmutation?" Roy asks.

"I don't have a speciality, really," Flamel says and pushes his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. It doesn't quite fit him right - too wide across shoulders, a bit too long. They'd either left some growing room, or they just didn't have a uniform small enough. "But I'm damn good at environmental alchemy, which I figure is what I'll be doing the most around here."

Roy blinks. "Environmental alchemy," he repeats.

"I can make the battleground my bitch," Flamel says, his crooked smile sharpening.

And abruptly Roy is already exhausted with the kid. He's one of those, then, a cocky little sumbitch, top of his class and talk of the town, so used to being the top dog of his little bubble that he has no concept of what the real world is like outside that little bubble. Guys like him come swaggering in all the time, all big talk and smug grins, so sure they're going to be carrying their little superiority complexes spotlessly over the finish line that they walk into the first fucking landmine that comes across.

Roy sees himself holding the kid's hand after he gets gunned down, still thinking himself invulnerable, and it's exhausting.

"What?" Flamel asks, suspicious at his silence.

Hughes, giving the kid the exact same look Roy must be, clears his throat. "How about you show us?" he suggests. "So we'll have an idea what we're working with here."

Flamel arches a brow at that and then looks around, light brown - or are they burnished gold? - eyes narrowing in thought.

Their camp is still a mess from the last attack - they're fixing the fences and filling the holes in the road that got busted in the smattering of mortar fire from two days ago. The perimeter is more secure now, for a given value of secure. They'd chosen the highest spot in the town, the temple mount, to give them a high vantage point - better than being penned into a valley. It leaves them pretty damn open though.

Flamel looks over the houses they'd taken over, the tents pitched in the streets and the flag of Amestris hung over the prayer hall, and clicks his tongue. Then he claps his hands together, and crouches down.

For a split of a second, barely a blink, it looks like he's praying.

Then he slaps his hands on the street beneath their feet - and in a crackle of alchemical energy and rumble of displaced earth, the street reforms. The dirt flattens, grows perfect paving stones, shifts to form neat walkways on the sides, even forming gutters. Between one breath and the next, they have a perfect Amestrian city street, formed from the dust of Ishval, surrounded by Ishvalan buildings.

While the soldiers on the newly reformed street let out shouts of shock, Roy just stares, his mind trying to jump hoops figuring out how the kid just did that. Circles in his skin, under his sleeves, inside his gloves…?

Hughes whistles, hiding his wild eyes in a squint. "Nice. You know, it doesn't rain much around here," he comments.

"So?" Flamel asks.

"The gutters aren't really necessary."

Flamel looks at the street he'd made, hands resting on his hips, and shrugs. "Eh, can't hurt," he says and motions at the street. "Anyway, imagine that, but spikes instead of paving stones."

Roy swallows and looks at the kid, who's just standing there, seemingly in no way bothered. Fullmetal doesn't look smug or proud of what he'd done, only grinning a little bit at the way the soldiers throw away their shovels, no longer needed. If this isn't something for the him to even brag about, then…

Roy has in his head an image of the kid doing a field of spikes under a charging assault force, eviscerating people by the dozens, and it's clearly not Flamel's only trick. It's probably not even in his top five.

Fuck, the kid would end up with a three digit death toll by his first engagement.

"Right," Roy says. He isn't sure what his face is doing but going Hughes' expression, it's probably not good. "You can make gutters. How about trenches?"

Flamel grins, his eyes like molten metal. "Try me."

By the end of the week - no, by the end of the day their camp is hugely improved by Flamel. The fence is turned into a solid stone wall, constructed within minutes from the remains of bombed out houses. Another pile of rubble is turned into a watch tower. They have trenches, they have pits, Flamel even adds a moat and spikes around the camp, like they're in an ancient fortress or something. Hell, there's even gargoyles in the corners of the wall.

They go from one of the least secure camps to one of the most heavily fortified seemingly overnight. It's a huge boost to troop morale - not so for Roy's sanity. Flamel doesn't even look winded by the end of his improvements.

"How are you doing the circles?" Roy asks finally - bit of a social Faux Pas among alchemists, especially military alchemists, but he has to ask. Flamel made entire buildings, and he hadn't stopped to draw a single sigil.

"In my head," Flamel says, shrugging. Like that makes any sense.

Roy looks at him and then at the changes he's made, and can't say it's impossible - he can see the results with his own eyes. And they're more than impressive, they're…

Flamel isn't going to be here long, he realises. Whether the brass send the kid here to get rid of him or not, the moment word about Flamel's real abilities spread, he'd be snagged by the first general with any fucking sense. The kid's a powerhouse. Roy is too, of course, that's why he's here - but Fullmetal is a different kind of powerhouse. Just by himself, he would be able to establish a secure foothold in the middle of enemy territory and that's not someone you just let sit idle.

Roy looks at the kid and feels torn between feeling sorry, jealous and a little bit bitter. If only he was a bit higher in rank, he could keep Flamel and make a full use his abilities - and maybe keep him from becoming a mass murderer in the process.

"What was your exam like?" Roy asks. There's no way the kid showed even a fraction of these abilities, he wouldn't be here at all if he had. "How'd you end up with a name like Fullmetal?" From what he'd seen something like Earth Moving or Groundbreaking would've been more apt.

"I made a spear in my exam," Flamel says, not looking at him. "And pointed it at Bradley."

"... And they didn't arrest you?"

Flamel smirks a little and looks at him. "What did you do?" he asks. "I bet you scorched something."

Roy had. He'd been welcomed in on the spot. "Training dummies," he agrees, giving him a pointed look. "Because I don't have a death wish."

Flamel shrugs. "It got me what I wanted," he says and stretches his arms. "So, what comes next?"

Roy looks at their newly secure camp. "Depends on the Colonel, but I bet you'll be doing more road work. We need a clear path in and out of the town."

Even though the town is officially theirs, that doesn't stop the guerilla attacks - but now, with a secure camp, all they needed was a clear path for troops to move in and then it'd be only a matter of time. If the two of them weren't already reassigned by then, they'd be after the supply line was secure. Alchemists weren't wasted in safe stations.

"But that's tomorrow's problem," Roy decides. "Come in, kid - let's get something to eat."

- - -

Nostalgia is doing rounds in my brain.

#Fanfiction #Fma #fullmetal alchemist #roy mustang #edward elric #time travel #Ishval war

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

Text

homecoming. [kaeya x reader]

prompt: a hug one might consider to be “too long” w/ kaeya, as requested by anon pairing: kaeya x gn!reader warnings: shamelessly flirty kaeya !!! he will flirt with u !!! watch out !!! he will steal your heart !!! also... pining lol. utter fluff. songs i listened to: when he sees me from waitress word count: ~1.4k words

a/n: implied height difference between kaeya and reader. god i love kaeya. kaeya is the superior ragnvindr brother because he comes home no matter what. i love kaeya. this is now a kaeya simp blog. i love u kaeya alberich ragnvindr idfc what last name you have, i’ll make it my last name if u let me. i love u kaeya,

you and captain kaeya were merely colleagues.

you had absolutely no romantic interest in the cavalry captain whatsoever. absolutely none. if approached with such heresy, you merely gave a tightlipped grimace and a shake of your head that signaled no, absolutely not. you had a purely professional relationship with kaeya alberich, your fellow captain and knight of favonius. the two of you were jovial around each other, but to hear such rumors of the two of you being madly in love or whatever farfetched tale the fresh recruits had made up as they slacked off was nothing less than infuriating.

such trivial gossip was false. everyone had joked about how the cryo vision-wielder had used such abilities to traverse your icy personality and break through the walls that you were nearly infamous for maintaining for so long. initial annoyance at these rumors had given way to hurt, for you knew that the rumors were partially true. the two of you weren’t hopelessly in love with each other. only one of you was: you.

but quelling such romantic gossip for the sake of your pride had proved to be difficult when your supposed lover was far too willing to play along. when approached with questions about your relationship with him, kaeya would only shrug and give a knowing smirk. if you caught him on a good day, he would even pretend to mull over the question, before flashing his pearly whites and holding a single finger up to his lips in the universal sign of shhh.

sure, you and kaeya spent time together both on and off duty, but such companionship merely extended into the realm of friendship. nothing more, nothing less. the two of you trusted each other both on and off the battlefield, working together seamlessly in both combat and in drinking games. your compatibility was undeniable, so much so that even acting grand master jean had picked up on it, assigning the two of you to nearly identical missions, despite the two of you leading two different regiments.

which, of course, led to his absence as his regiment (his regiment alone, you bitterly noted) had set out to inspect an outcropping of hilichurl camps forming near stormterror’s lair. the mission ran into overtime and thoughts of the blue-haired cavalry captain plagued you to the point where even albedo, who lived by the motto of not my emotions, not my problem when it came to interpersonal relationships, had commented on how out of it you looked. you had left his laboratory in a hurry, forgetting the paperwork you had visited him for and had to do a walk of shame back into his lab. the alchemist had simply given you a knowing smirk, but upon meeting his gaze, you merely shifted yours away and left with your documents in silence.

kaeya had even sent you a completely platonic, one-hundred percent friendly letter upon the extension of his mission. in this letter, he detailed how he would miss your company and wished he had as competent of a knight as you at his side, knowing that your presence would have made the mission both go and feel so much faster than the snail’s pace it was currently moving along at. such notions are completely platonic, you tell yourself upon reading his familiar handwriting upon the paper, kaeya does not return your affections.

however, that doesn’t stop the fluttering in your heart when you realize the letter in your hands smells exactly like kaeya alberich’s aftershave, almost as if he had purposefull- archons, you interrupted yourself, dropping the letter in shock and losing track of any semblance of thoughts you had prior. did i just sniff the letter kaeya sent me? have i really fallen that low?

the days after you receive the letter, you sympathize utterly with the snail’s pace kaeya described. the slow ticking of time mocks you, as each second feels more like ten. as you look longingly outside the window of your office, you partially expect the windmills within the city to have come to a stop, as if time had frozen in kaeya’s absence. however, they continue to spin, oblivious to your woes or the longing that nearly consumes you whole as one thought echoes through your mind: you miss your partner in crime.

when news of the cavalry regiment’s arrival begins to spread throughout the knights of favonius headquarters, you are discussing your squadron’s duties with acting grand master jean. a knight interrupts your conversation to share the news with her, but jean’s eyes quickly meet yours as soon as the information is shared. she laughs lightly at your poorly disguised expression of excitement.

“you can go see him,” jean offers and your eyes widen at her words. before you can sputter out some poor excuse of how you aren’t absolutely smitten with the cavalry captain and how your soul definitely, certainly, absolutely doesn’t cry out for his, she’s waving you off with a flick of the hand. “you are dismissed. this conversation’s over. go see him, i know you want to.”

“thank you,” the words that exit your lips are nothing but sincere. as you drop the denial act for once, you feel one of many weights off your chest. the secret falls between you and jean, but based on her initial reaction, you’re already doing an absolutely awful job of hiding your feelings to begin with. you smile at her before excusing yourself and scurrying out of her office.

you walk at a brisk pace. any faster and you would draw suspicion. the rumors of you and kaeya being lovebirds would only worsen. any slower and it would seem as if you didn’t care of his return, being both an awful friend and a horrid potential lover. so, despite the way you long to break out into a sprint and run to the gates of mondstadt, you walk at a controlled pace that feels all-too-slow, just like the passage of time in his absence.

when your eyes finally spot kaeya’s figure amongst the rest of his direct subordinates, you feel a tightness in your chest and butterflies erupt in your stomach. and when your gaze finally meets your favorite shade of blue, the one that swirls and dances in his revealed iris, you can’t hold back the grin that breaks across your face. whatever conversation kaeya was having with his colleagues before ends as he stops midsentence. you watch, frozen in place, as he quickly excuses himself from the situation.

the cavalry captain’s gaze never breaks from yours as he chooses to walk over to you, walking far too fast to not raise suspicion. your feet feel like lead, far too heavy to move, as you watch him approach you. the distance closes between the two of you, yet kaeya does not halt where you expect him to finally stand still. before you can register what he’s doing, kaeya wraps his arms around you and exhales heavily.

instinctively, your arms wrap around kaeya as well and you only pray he can’t hear the blood that roars in your ears, nor feel the way your head spins from finally, finally having him back again. time is frozen once more, yet for the first time since kaeya’s departure, you wish for it to stay this way. despite his cryo vision, kaeya gives the warmest hugs and you want nothing more than to stay in this moment of intimacy forever.

as you begin to remember where you are, your eyes, which you hadn’t realized you had closed in utter contentment, flutter open and you glance around, spotting fellow knights who are staring at the two of you, whispering admirably amongst themselves. worry sets in for kaeya’s reputation. sure, you were in love with him, but he certainly wasn’t in love with you and you wished not to sully him with bothersome rumors and office gossip to deal with. so, with a heavy heart, you decide to shatter your little fantasy, leaning up to whisper in kaeya’s ear.

“kaeya,” you begin and his grip tightens around you almost imperceptibly as you utter his name. you wonder if you imagined it. “the other knights are going to gossip abought this.”

“oh?” kaeya challenges, squeezing you just a bit tighter and pulling your bodies even closer together. you feel flustered from his actions and, in such close proximity, you can smell his cologne, your face nearly buried in his chest. as you angle your head so your ear lies flat against his torso, you can hear his heart beating rapidly as kaeya murmurs his next three words.

“let them talk.”

#and with this... i sleep :D #kaeya x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaeya #genshin impact #KAEYA THE LOML MY HEART IS YOURS im sorry why did this fic make me soft I WROTE IT????? WTF

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difx-writes · 3 years

Text

Wildest Dreams - In the Death of the Night

Masterlist

After turning 10 and losing her soulmate, Marinette would imagine how Damian Wayne would be.

Would he be tall or short? Did he have blond hair or brown or did he dyed it? Would he be shy or have a bold personality? Perhaps he was an artistic soul, a poet, a writer? Or would he be a baker like her parents? Why did his last name change?

The wonders and questions took over her mind for days with no end.

On good days, she imagined how he would interact with her friends, how her parents would take him in as their own son, how he would fit into her life.

She liked to talk to him, pretending there, alive, with her. She asked his opinion on what to wear, how she should do her hair, what colors with go well with the design. He was her voice of reason. Talking to "Damian" brought a smile to her face, even when she knew she was deluding herself.

On bad days, she pretended he was right there with her, comforting her, encouraging her, whispering that everything would be alright... Sometimes it worked and she felt better the next days but most times she felt bitter, she felt robbed of a future where he was in her life.

The realization that the person she was supposed to share her soul with was no longer alive, that his death was painful, gruesome, and... lonely... It always ended with her taking a few days to prevent a breakdown...

When she turned 13, Hawkmoth appeared and Marinette became Ladybug, the hero of Paris.

Soon after, Marinette stopped talking with "Damian", she couldn't afford to wonder about him anymore. She couldn't afford the bliss of her own delusions. She couldn't afford to let herself grief and fall pray to Hawkmoth's manipulation.

As she couldn't fail Paris and its citizens, Damian Wayne mostly disappeared from her life.

But there were days when her “friends” demanded a lot from her, akumas were too violent and draining and everything was just too much, those the godawful days.

On godawful days she wished Damian was there to take her away to a place she could feel she belonged. Away from everything to a place she could call a home.

_______

Most nights Damian recalls a voice talking to him during the time he was dead.

His soulmate, he supposed, talked to him regularly, she started her day asking his opinion on her outfit for the day, when at home she would tell him how her day went, what she did with her friends, what she learned in class, etc...

At first, Damian was pretty much annoyed that he couldn't "rest in peace" with all the noise pollution but after a few weeks, he slowly started to tolerate her talking to him.

Unfortunately, he couldn't talk to her nor see her very clearly so it was a pleasant surprise when Marinette would ask his opinion to make a decision, she always picked what he chooses.

Perhaps it was their bond that allowed her to know what he was thinking without actually hearing each other's thoughts. Or maybe they were more in sync with one another. Most likely it was pure luck on her part. (Him being dead is enough proof of how bad his luck was.)

In the months he was dead, Damian learned a grand lot Marinette. He liked how she made him feel he wasn't alone, like how her voice calmed him when he remembered the family he left behind in his death. Marinette was his only lighthouse in the vast void of the afterlife

_______

Impotent, despair, and hopeless.

That's how Damian felt every time Marinette had to relive his death. He hated it so much. She didn't deserve that and it broke his heart every damn time.

Why did he have to die? Why did it have to be in such a painful way? Why did she have to feel it on repeat over and over and over again? Was it a twisted way the universe tried to make them reunited? If they can't find each other in life, then they can be together in death? That isn't right!

But it always hurts more when she wakes up and talks to him. Wondering if he was happy and in peace, in wherever place he ended up.

He was there but she didn't know.

He felt sick.

After being revived, Damian felt an immense sense of loss. Sure, he was kinda happy to reunite with his family and grateful for being alive again, but he missed her.

It was difficult to readjust to being alive again, it was crystal clear that Damian Wayne wasn't okay. What hurts him the most was how her name turned into a scar on his wrist.

During the day paranoia settled in making him always on high alert, lashing out when it got too much for him.

In the night, he couldn't sleep properly as a feeling of unease latched onto his every nerve and when he did sleep, nightmares plagued him.

Damian tried to calm down in various ways, but ultimately it was Marinette's voice that soothed him and lulled him to sleep.

It quickly became a habit to replay their one-sided conversations as he tries to fall asleep.

He went over what Marinette Dupain-Cheng spoke to him time and time again as to engrave her voice in his mind. Unfortunately, her voice was fading away, every time he recalled it, he hear his own voice.

At least some memories remained, which was relieving for Damian, even when important ones like what language she spoke or the name of her school were completely wiped out.

He never told his family his experience while he was dead, he guesses Jason was the most likely to know about it but he never brought it up to anyone, so Damian did the same.

Now he was lying in bed, remembering about the time Marinette tried embroidery for the first time.

She started by searching up what she wanted it to be and after much talking, she chose a Robin, Damian smile at the eagerness he felt for her to chose it. It was a fun day, with her making comments here and there about the work, he wishes he could see it.

A knock woke him up of his thoughts, Alfred emerging from the door.

"Master Damian, I'm here to inform you a guest will be joining us for tomorrow's dinner."

"Whose guest?" He didn't really feel like dealing with new people.

"It's Master Jason's guest."

Damian groans, perhaps he could go visit Kent.

"It would be in your best interest to participate, Master Damian." Alfred gave him a look.

He sighed, definitely can't miss tomorrow or he'll have to face Pennyworth.

So, I've written another chapter while listening to a sad song on repeat :') I know it doesn’t really connect to the last chapter but I wasn’t feeling okay and didn’t know how to continue from where I left off.

I hope y’all enjoyed this and have a nice day!

P.S.: The taglist is temporarily closed as some tags aren't working. Again, I'm very sorry if I missed anyone. If you no longer want to be tagged please hit me up.

Taglist:

@thestressmademedoit @moonlightstar64 @dast218 @moonystars14 @buticaaba @urbanpineapplefarmer @thedragonbug @little-lady-bird @an-actual-changeling @ladybug-182 @ash-amg @g-arya @nnon-it-up @hateswifi @maribat-is-lifeblood @kikooaaaaaa @jessigurl-design @vixen-uchiha @acoursedprophetwithasmothie @snow-leopard-777 @theatreandcomicfreak @zalladane @fusser90 @finallyaniguana @danielslilangel @dreamykitty25 @corabeth11 @ellymae21 @books-and-left-behind-journals @hetalia-lover-is-here @dorkus-minimus @magic-miraculous @waywardpeachgardenshark @darkthunder1589 @jaggedheart11 @daminettes @todaylillypads @schrodingers25 @pheonixashtree @mikantsume @eliza-bich @miraculous-simmer7 @goblinwhoships @fidget-eep @rosalineandrosemary @lunarwolfspn @more-or-less-human-i-guess @aestheticnpoetic @amayakans @abrx2002 @karategirl119 @agentofscifi @flower-and-drawing @itsmeevie01 @suddenly-i-kin-oikawa @ii-fox-demon @thatonecroc @dawnwave16 @bigpicklebananatree @violentbisexualprophecywriter @scribblinggraveyard @heaven428 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ravennightingaleandavatempus @chylou34 @silvergold-swirl @magictragic-world @snowstar1016 @heldtogetherbysafetypins @awkwardoneout @novicevoice @thenillabean @bookishdork13 @laurcad123 @thezestywalru @k-poplunardreams @coloursforyourportrait @fandomsaremylifeline @goddessofthewestwind @captainmac6 @chocolatecatstheron @princessanimeangel11 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @ur-beautiful-when-u-smile @batlover1303 @softlysobbingpostendgame @justconfusedperiod @clumsy-owl-4178 @bluesimani @iwritelikeimrunningoutoftime @kokotaru @totalyasexual @professionalfangirl1738 @nitholites @zestyzealot @pawsitivelymiraculous @autiegirlshit @raz-b-rose @thanks-captain-obvious @emilytopaz @nightstarblue @2confused-2doanything @niknak-3 @blackroserelina @fortunatelyoptimisticdeer @ira-sairain @pepelachanel @naimena @iloveitwhen @disneyfoxuniverse @ur-average-reader @lylshyt @jerusalemandolives @anonymously-odd @southamericanghotamite @a-star-with-a-human-name @we-want-mini-mini @literallytryingmybestbutok @alenee13 @animegirlweeb @our-preciousss @prudencerika @byronsacademics @ivymala07 @shamefullove @susiej1118 @technicallyburninggarden @sentimentalcrap @ertyzeta @tomanyfandomsonmymind @starmist19 @synnesstra @nokia75 @swiftie-miraculer13 @solideogloria172 @a-door-into-my-mind @road-work-ahead123 @madking-warqueen @caseoftheblues @buginetye @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere @i-wanna-go-to-outerspace @insane-fangirl-of-everything @ultimatetornshipper @chaoticstarworld @adrestar @wolf-for-life @blacktea-ba @pinkk-sheep @autiegirlshit @chocolateherringtacofan @blackroserelina @samopotahto @blur-of-colours @stainedglassm @redbullgivescaswings @khneltea @amigotasbien @sdg-demachera @alyssadeliv @greatcatblaze @raesofmoonlight @galla02006 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @novaloptr @qualitypeacepainter @solangelo252 @unnamed2357 @thespianlesb @mildlydeadly @yuriyuhitsu @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @literaryhiraeth @luna025 @henie04 @trashesa @castle-bookworms-world

#daminette #maridami #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #maribat #ml x dc #soulmate au #angst #in the death of the night

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gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years

Text

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 35

(Master post)

(Insert excuse on why it took so long) (Insert comedic joke on why I didn't update sooner) (plea of trying better) (Heartfelt compliment on why all of you are awesome and patient)

Okay so now that we got that out of the way. But in all seriousness. Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy.

If you do enjoy the fic, please Comment and reblog. Reblogs are like Gold on Tumblr and being a writer and posting to Tumblr is difficult. So every little bit helps.

Alright so now lets get to it.

_____________________________________________________________

The nurse heard the commotion going on in the halls. She knew that shortly after Chloé left, things outside the office became… restless. She turned off all the lights and locked the door to the nurse’s office. She did her best to stay quiet and not draw attention to the room. She knew those akuma were out there and she needed to focus on stabilizing her patient.

“I hope that Chloé managed to get that message out.” The nurse whispered to herself.

The woman felt weird pinning her hopes of escaping this place on a spoiled teenager, but at this point, beggars can’t be choosers.

She heard someone approach the door. The nurse felt her blood turn to ice. She refused to move a single inch. She hoped and prayed that the person would go away. She could hear the screams of students outside. She knew the akuma, whoever they were, were out there, and they were taking anyone they could find. Right now, all she could do was pray they don’t check.

“Please… for all that is good… let them leave.” She prayed under her breath.

After what felt like an eternity, she heard the sound of footsteps away from the door and everything returned to eerie silence.

She felt her essence sigh in relief.

She got up from the ground and went to go attend to the unconscious woman in the cot.

“Its strange for someone so young to be so exhausted… but then again, when I get into the line of work I am hoping for, it is likely I will be seeing a lot of cases like this.” Angela joked, trying to keep herself in good spirits. “Society is such a mess.”

Angela checked Nathalie’s pulse. It was present, but it felt off. It was weaker than she was expecting from someone of her age. Perhaps she has a much more serious medical condition. Angela would probably recommend that this woman see a professional when this is all said and done. Though for now, she was stable and calm, which was a very good sign.

The nurse considered that maybe she wasn’t getting an accurate reading, was something off with the assistant’s breathing? She would need to check. The nurse grabbed a stethoscope and moved closer, getting ready to check again.

“Ow!” She yelped as she felt something grab her arm. Nathalie had awaken and she had a firm grip on the woman's wrist.

“What are you doing!?” The surprised assistant exclaimed

“You're awake!? Oh, thank goodness.”

“Awake?”

“Yes, you passed out at a most stressful time. Right now, I recommend we keep our voices down.” The nurse hushed.

‘S***’

Nathalie mentally cursed to herself. She knew it had to be Masquerade. Her little episode resulted in her being far too late to get in and out without issue. She was planning on getting Adrien out of here before things went south.

She got up from the cot she had been laying in.

“Hold on a second.” Angela called out. “You need to stay and rest. I am glad you are conscious. But that sudden fainting spell could be indicative of…”

Nathalie did not have time for this. She gave an ice-cold glare at the nurse.

“If you intend on making me stay here, you will need to do so by force!”

The nurse felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. This woman’s eyes clearly showed intent on fighting. Angela was not a fighter, she helped people, not hurt them.

“You are my patient, and there is a lot of danger outside. You are in no condition to go out there.”

Nathalie had to respect the woman’s guts for standing up to her, despite the nurse’s knees shaking as she maintained eye contact.

“Okay, so how will we deal with the akuma breaking in then.”

“What!”

Angela turned her back to Nathalie, who took full advantage, giving the school nurse a fierce chop to the neck. Causing the nurse to drop like a sack of potatoes.

“Rest up.”

Nathalie put the nurse in the cot that she had previously been resting in.

“Seems I don’t have time to be subtle. Duusu.”

The blue Kwami popped out.

“Nathalie! Do you want to play?”

“Yes Duusu, the game is find Adrien and get out of here.”

“Horray!”

“Duusu! Spread my feathers!”

_____________________________________________________________

“Get down!” Ladybug dived into Chat noir, helping them both avoid the pause symbols and deadly bubbles headed their way. The akuma on both sides of them managed to avoid the incoming attacks they had sent towards the heroes.

“Thanks LB.” Chat noir thanked. “While you are the second person I want to be dancing with. We can't keep dodging forever. Even if their moves are predictable. Maybe those masks are the key to stopping them."

“Hardly a dance, its ettiquette for the boy to lead if it is. And I don't think so. Those masks appear to be unbreakable and impossible to remove” Ladybug said as she pulled her partner quickly back up, both noticing the akuma were ready for more.

“We still haven’t tried cataclysm.” Chat noir comments as he runs and jumps over a trashcan to avoid getting nailed by Bubbler’s attack bubbles.

“Right, but that would leave you exposed. Call it a hunch, but we will need to save it for later.” Ladybug responds as she jumps away and opens a door to block several pause symbols. "Besides, do you want to be mask-less at this Akuma calamity?"

“I was going to say it was more like a Masquerade ball. And no I would not."

Ladybug rolled her eyes at the lame joke, but still had a bit of a smile. Lightening the mood.

"Silly kitty"

"But seriously, we need a plan. If we can’t free them, what can we do?”

Ladybug focused for a moment. She noticed the way they were attacking, it was predictable and slow. Normally the akuma change up their attacks, or at least seem more aware of what the heroes are doing. The akuma were acting a lot more like controlled puppets. Much like when she had to deal with Puppeteer. Seems this akuma had some drawbacks that could be exploited. This was where Ladybug realized there was a way to deal with them.

“We disarm them. Break Bubbler’s wand and I will terminate Lady Wifi’s phone plan. Their reflexes are way more sluggish than usual. My bet is that having so many servants is starting to have a drain on the effectiveness of her forces. We just need to act quick.”

“Alright, sounds good to me.”

“On my mark we charge.”

Ladybug kept an eye on both akuma, after they sent a flurry of attack, they would usually have to take a moment to recharge. Bubbler would need to dip his wand back into his bubble pack and Lady wifi would have her hand cramp after sending 10 swipe symbols and would need to pull her hand back.

“Now!”

Chat noir and Ladybug both pounced at the two akuma, moving fast enough that their foes couldn’t retaliate as the heroes swiped the weapons from their respective wielders.

“Sorry to burst your bubble.” Chat noir joked as he snapped the bubble wand.

“And you’ve reached your data limit for the month.” Ladybug chimed in as she crushed Lady Wifi’s phone.

Both akuma began swinging their fists at the heroes, trying to turn the fight into a bare-knuckle brawl. But Ladybug’s assessment was correct, their attacks were too predictable. Ladybug caught Lady Wifi’s fist and flipped her over her shoulder to the ground.

Chat noir ducked under bubbler’s punch and slipped behind him. The cat used his staff to swipe at the feet of the forward moving akuma and knocked him mask first onto the floor.

“Alright, their disarmed. Now what?”

“Move him over here.”

Chat noir picks up the akuma by his bubble pack and throws him over to ladybug like a curling stone.Ladybug uses her yo-yo to tie the two dazed akuma back to back.

“Let’s put them somewhere where they won’t cause any trouble.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Next!” Masquerade called out in annoyance.

She had gotten her akuma servants to capture as many teachers and students as possible. She had the element of surprise and with the amount of akuma she had at her disposal, it was easy to capture several. Though she figured none would escape and cause panic, Timebreaker was guarding the parameter and kept her informed of any people she ‘Tagged’. Horrificator finished sealing all of the exits so no one would be able to come in or out.

She figured there was a good chance for adding more akuma to her rank. The problem was, most of the akuma sucked. She ended up developing a system for them. If they turned out to have no useful ability, she would humiliate them, have reflekta turn her into replicas of herself and then have Princess Frangrance spray the rejects to turn into obedient servants, this way she had something useful out of them. Make them get snacks or whatever. There were multiple uses for mind-controlled students and teachers. So far, she didn’t find a single one worthy of her time.

“I SAID NEXT!” Masquerade shouted louder.

Masquerade sized up the black-haired girl that one of the Reflekta duplicates had pushed forward. She recognized the shy smile from television. She was one of the weather girls on the KIDZ+ network. That was a contest Lila would have KILLED to have been a part of. She mentally told herself she would have won if she had entered.

“Your Mirelle aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes, please don’t hurt me.” She pleaded.

Masquerade rolled her eyes.

“Let’s, see what the deepest parts of your mind hold.”

“Stop!’

Masquerade stopped to turn to the person that shouted.

“Well, well, well, seems we have both weather girls that go to this school.” Masquerade commented. “What a coincidence.”

Masquerade’s eyes went to the honey blonde weather girl. The akuma had to respect the fierce glare the girl was giving her.

“Aurore don’t.” Mirelle tried to plea.

“Fragrance, shut her up.”

The perfume akuma moved from the wall and sprayed the shy weather girl.”

“No!”

Masquerade felt her bracelet glow, indicating that there was an akuma victim present.”

“So, stormy weather, does this rain on your parade?”

“Don’t call me that!” Aurore spat with disgust.

“That loss still bothers you. How the city voted and you were blown out of the water.”

“I know your trying to get under my skin, it won’t work.” Aurore said. “I’ve dealt with Chloé, and she is way meaner.”

Masquerade kept her smile.

“You’re right, that wouldn’t bother me. The comments by everyone else questioning why you are there would. All of those people wondering what the point of that vote was. So now you have to constantly push harder and harder to prove you deserve to be there with Mirelle. It has become your obsession; the way people perceive you. You need to be the perfect weather girl, with the good looks and the good grades. You can’t let anyone begin to doubt your ability.”

Aurore felt her heart shatter at the comment. It was like this akuma had reached into her chest and pulled her heart out. She could see her biggest fear.

“Shut up! I am good enough! You can’t tell me otherwise.”

Masquerade felt a twinge of annoyance, but a sinister idea came into her head. She touched the perfume bottle charm, her colors shifted to match the color scheme of the Perfume akuma.

“Mirelle, tell her what she needs to here.”

The controlled weather girl felt something intrude in her mind, for a brief second, she winced, before turning into a creepy smile.

“Mirelle?”

Aurore felt her skin crawl as she turned to see her coworker and friend staring at her, a creepy smile on her face.

“You aren’t good enough. You were never good enough. You tried so hard to be charming and cute, but the network thinks your redundant. They were going to get rid of you as soon as they could. I hear they are aiming for the end of the month.” She sing-songed.

Aurore dropped to her knees. Her confidence shattered. She broke down, tears streamed down her face. She covered her hands to cry. To hear her say those awful things, was it true? Was she gone? Was all her work for nothing?

Mirelle’s creepy forced smile stayed, but from the corner of her eye, a single tear began streaming down her cheek. Unbeknown to Aurore, Masquerade was using the controlled teen like a ventriloquist dummy.

“Excellent work.”

Masquerade shifted back to her original colors and grabbed a mask from her dress before she flung it right at the depressed weather girl. She took joy in watching it clamp onto her face like an alien face-hugger. There was a brief moment of struggle, but Aurore was no more. Stormy weather had taken her place. Masquerade laughed as a new charm appeared on her bracelet.

“Finally, some better servants. And these powers are no joke.”

Stormy weather raised her umbrella at Masquerade.

“Oh? Are you trying to resist?”

The akuma’s arm was shaking, but then dropped. Her body becoming inactive, like a toy robot with its batteries removed.

“And there goes the last of your resistance. Now go out and find Ladybug and Chat noir. Lady Wifi and Bubbler haven’t returned.”

Stormy weather nodded and headed out of the classroom.

Masquerade noticed the cowering captured students and took a moment to appreciate the power she wielded. Sure, she would have preferred to have been loved by the school, but being feared is a close second.

Her joy was cut short when something pinged into her mind.

Requirements met for new akuma. Confirm merge?

‘Merge?’

Masquerade tried to figure out what that meant. What was merging.

‘The components for the akuma Oblivio are now available, would you like to merge the two akuma to make new akuma?’

“Oblivio? I don’t remember an akuma by that name?” Masquerade said to herself. “Well, if two people are needed to make it and it is making something new, it must be good. Confirm!”

A new charm appears on her bracelet, one in the shape of a question mark.

"Creating Lady Wifi, Bubbler, Oblivio fusion.'

“I wonder what this will bring.”

_____________________________________________________________

Hawkmoth got felt a sudden shift in the mood of his akuma.

"So Lila found a way to merge akuma with multiple different forms into one. And now she is able to create a completely new akuma. Perhaps Ladybug and Chat noir have finally met there match."

The butterfly villain rubbed his hands smugly as he continued observing. Though part of him wondered if Nathalie was able to secure Adrien safely.

_____________________________________________________________

“Okay, these should work.” Chat noir exclaimed as he opened two empty lockers.

Ladybug removed her yo-yo that had tied the two akuma together and shoved the two of them inside each locker before slamming it shut.

“We need something to lock them in for a while.” Ladybug exclaimed as she held the doors closed. The akuma started trying to break free. Moving in any way they could to bust out.

Chat noir looked around, looking for something to shove in front of the lockers.

“Ugh, there is nothing to barricade them with!” Chat noir exclaims.

“Just seal the doors.”

“Right!”

Chat noir put his hand on the lockers where the doors would open, he focused all his strength into his hands and crunched doors by the lock, making it impossible to open in the conventional way.

“That should hold it.” Chat noir exclaimed with relief.

Ladybug slid down the door as resistance finally ceased.

“I think they realized they can’t escape.” Chat noir eased.

Ladybug got up from the floor. They give each other a fist bump on their success.

“Well thankfully that deals with two troublesome akuma. Now we need to get to Lila before we get overrun with them.”

The two heroes quickly leave the locker room.

"By the way, you mentioned earlier I was the second person you wanted to be dancing with. Who is the first?"

Chat noir felt a faint blush on his cheeks.

"How about we talk dances later." Chat noir dodged the question.

Both heroes hurrying down the hall to try and get to Masquerade.

But after they left, the lockers they had left the akumas in started to shake wildly…

_____________________________________________________________

“Heads up!” Viperion exclaimed as he pulled Ryuuko out of the Akuma’s range. The vanishing miracular was a far more difficult opponent then both reptilian heroes were expecting. The akuma vanishes just before Ryuuko could retaliate.

“Every time we lose sight of her, she vanishes and I can’t get a clean hit!” Ryuuko grumbles.

Viperion looks around frantically.

“Yes, but I do believe we have some interesting intel. The akuma seems unable to use both her powers at the same time. She needs to turn visible in order to try and attack us with those Tonfa of hers” The snake hero explains

Ryuuko backs up, looking around to see if she can notice anything that could help her locate the sneaky servant.

“And whatever its other power is seems to involve using those Tonfa. Call it a hunch but we can’t let her use it on us.” Ryuuko discussed her instinctual feeling.

“Guard my back, she can’t sneak up on us if our backs are covered.” Viperion instructs. “Her strategy is very straight forward. We just need to wait for an opening”

“Got it.” Ryuuko says just as she notices something from the corner of her eye. “There you are.”

Ryuuko makes a charge at what appeared to be a wall, but her sword contacted Miracular’s tonfa. Forcing her visible again.

Viperion took noticed of the poor stance that Miracular had while blocking Ryuuko. He wasn’t an expert but even he could see that an unexpected hit would knock her off her feet.

He threw his lyre right at the akuma’s knees and made contact, the force causing her to buckle and Ryuuko disarmed the akuma by parrying her tonfa.

Viperion caught the weapons and broke them over his knee.

“Well that takes care of her weapons.”

Ryuuko noticed the akuma tried to get away but she dove tackled her before she could turn visable.

“Nice work. But what are we going to do to stop her from getting in the way?” Viperion inquired.

Ryuuko band the akuma's face repeatedly against the floor in order to break the mask. Sadly there was not even a scratch on it.

"Well this mask is durable. Might need to lock her somewhere."

The snake hero thought for a moment. he remembered back to a previous akuma attack. Chat noir had put him in a locker to be safe. He still remembered the playful wink the cat gave.

"Any ideas Viper piper?" Ryuuko inquired as she maintained her hold on the akuma.

"Huh? Oh right. Why not take to the locker room and throw her into a locker. She isn't super strong so we could easily just toss her in and lock it. Also, what is with the nickname?"

"I heard that giving people nicknames helps endear people to you."

"Okay, well you can keep trying, but I don't play pipes. What other ones do you have."

"... That was the only one I had... Ill try and come up with more as we go."

"Looking forward to it ... Dra-girl"

Ryuuko paused to look at him as she stood up with the akuma.

"Yea... It felt wrong as soon as I said it. Lets just go."

_____________________________________________________________

Chloé had given most of the akuma she encountered the slip. Not from expert hiding of fighting skill, she simply walked passed them. A normal individual would realize how amazing it was that as long as you don’t freak out, the akuma basically don’t notice. But to Chloé, it felt insulting. Did the akuma seriously believe she was not worth chasing?

“Un-be-lievable.” Chloé huffed. “Most of these akuma would have been chasing me like crazy by now.”

She grumbled to herself as she made it to the front entrance, which she realized had been slimed on.

“EWW, they got that nasty slime monster on their side.”

The mayor’s daughter felt a mix of disgust and annoyance. With this door sealed, she would need to get to one of the other exits, on the other side of the school.

“This would be a really good time for Ladybug to show up and let me be Queen bee.” Chloé stated aloud.

But the area she was in was practically empty.

“Figures.” Chloé sighed. “Why do these gross rejects always have to make things so annoying!”

Unfortunately for her, her complaints did attract some attention from a group of Reflekta copies roaming the halls.

“We order you to come with us!” The three reflektas sang in unison. Chloé didn’t know or care if the original was among them.

“How about no.” Chloé scoffed. She pushed one of them down and walked past them. The other two rushed to her to capture her. But Chloé easily knocked both of the reflektas down easy. The servants were not use to walking in heels. They may be controlled, but Chloé can tell when an amateur walking in gaudy heels from a mile away.

“You 3 need to learn how to walk and a lesson on fashion before you can even THINK of taking me hostage.” Chloé flipped her hair and smugly continued walking, as the three reflektas tried to get up.

Hidden from view, hiding in what appeared to be an abandoned janitor’s cleaning cart, an old man popped his head out slightly.

“Ladybug does need all the help she could get right now…But would she be the right choice?”

_____________________________________________________________ (End of Part 36.)

What other akuma will be joining Masquerade's ranks?

Will Ladybug and Chat noir be able to face the old and new threats?

Will Mayura cause more problems or solve em?

Also, what do you think this new akuma fusion will look like?

I would love to see your takes.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml soulmate survey #soulmate survey #ml fic #ml fanfic #miraculous fanfic #ss fic #ml au #slight lukagami #chloé bourgeois #masquerade akuma #fan akuma #drama #action #new akuma #ladynoig #ladybug #chat noir

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omiscurls · 3 years

Note

hi!! could i request a diluc x fem!reader angst where they were childhood friends, and when reader gets a fiancé, diluc tries to confess his feelings but reader rejects him, gets married and moves from mondstat, and every now and then diluc sends reader letters (apologizing, asking how readers day was, hoping they come back). thanks!

unrequited

plot: reader rejects the character

contains: diluc

warnings: angsty and like one curse word, that’s all

diluc was a cute kid.

as the heir to one of the most wealthy and powerful families in mondstadt, he was polite not only to his senior, but also incredibly nice to his friends, as well. different that most boys his age, he didn’t go around yelling dumb, inappropriate jokes, and didn’t take pride in making girls feel bad.

he was always sweet to those doing worse than him in class, be it theory or sparring, and acted like an absolute saint to his adopted brother.

naturally, how could one not adore a kid like that? how could the mondstadt girls not line up to see him each time, how could the boys not want to play with him? how could anyone resist, when he had that charm to him that seemed to draw people near almost against their free will?

finally, how could you not take pride in the fact that out of all those over-the-top girls who fought over each other to talk to him, out of all those boys that never failed to bug him in each little scrap of his free time, he chose to try and get close to you?

you didn’t understand it at first, but it seemed like he genuinely wanted to know you, his eyes looking as though they were studying your expression at all times, a warm smile welcoming you each time you passed him by.

his words were careful and his sentences always strained, as if he struggled to talk, but a sense of honesty and genuine sympathy always seeped through his words, confusing your little childish brain, but also forming a warm and fuzzy feeling inside your chest.

over the years, not only did you finally answer to his advances, but also befriend the kid. his rare smiles were reserved for your eyes only, and his mind opened up before you each and every time you talked, no restrain and limitations between you two.

he’d sit behind you in class, sometimes passing you notes with an answer to questions you didn’t know, or a funny note about the teacher, or just simply asking if you want to hang out after school.

you’d go to windrise and sit under the tree, talking for hours about the most useless of things, about what you thought the clouds looked like, but also your futures, your dreams and hopes.

he’d explain math to you before every exam in the dark rooms of dawn winery, hair pulled up and tea made for the both of you, looking at your struggling with unmistakable patience and affection, but what could you know? you were kids, barely even teenagers. why would you think anything of the way he said he’ll “always be there for you” after some simple math tutoring? how could you analyze his kind stare that you never saw him wear for other people?

and so you didn’t.

he’d sit with you on the counter of his kitchen, carefully caressing your back as you wet his shirt with tears, quietly telling you that “they didn’t deserve you anyway” after your first ever heartbreak. to hell with the fact that his own heart was breaking a millimetre more with every word he spoke, if what he said calmed you in any way, he’d talk all night, going on and on about how you deserve the world, and nothing less.

you held his hand at his fathers memorial service, letting him tighten his grip on your fingers harder every time, you wiped away the tears, you listen to his sobs and pleas when the two of you were alone. you offered solace to him over the next painful months, you justified every word he hurt kaeya with, only to make him feel better about himself.

to him, you were like an angel sent from above. you restored the faith he had lost in the world, you stuck by his side and lighted up his days one after the other, how could he not adore you?

how could he not fall in love?

and trust when i say, he did really try to avoid it. he tried pushing his thoughts away, he tried focusing on something else, tried avoiding you, tried everything. no matter what he did, his mind circled back to your smile, and unconsciously he smiled as well, even if the next second he’d look in the mirror and wipe it off his face as if it was a crime to smile.

diluc was a cute kid, and he grew up to be a polite gentleman, whom you called a friend. and as any polite gentleman, he wouldn’t dare do anything to loose the honor you had given him, so he stayed silent. stayed silent since his in-class notes, through talks about the future, through your breakups, through all the times you had been there for him. in no universe would he ever mention how the weight was lifted off his shoulders every time you as much as looked his way, how all the clouds went away at the sound of your laugh, and how he was ready to do anything in the world to keep you happy.

somewhere in his mind, perhaps he thought you had somehow known all along, and would reward his efforts to not complicate your life with his emotions with loving him back, but how could you know? how, if he kept it a secret that well?

in the end, his own plan backfired on him, and he realized he had lost when you ran through his door, tears in your eyes, but a smile on your face, showing off a ring, shining in sunlight, resting on your finger.

if he ever thought “they didn’t deserve you” hurt him, “i’m so happy for you!” stabbed his soul a thousand times more painfully.

to normal people of mondstadt, there was no change in behavior from the gloomy and serious owner of angel’s share, but a few noticed how heavy his presence was, how desperately he blinked back the sheen layer of tears, glistening in the candle light while he was serving drinks, and you were off somewhere in the back, laughing with your lover by your side.

he had lost his chance, and now there was no way in which he could get you back. no way at all. all his life, he had built up a hope inside that one of these days, he’ll get a happy ever after, and lived with that thought through all the bad moments that came along the way, and now these years of carefully building this scenario came crushing down with the realization.

in a desperate search of any relief, he came to the conclusion that the only thing to be even remotely at peace with himself was to... simply just tell you.

so there he was, right outside your door, the watch on his wrist striking ten in the evening, stars shining brightly on your doorstep, as you appeared before him, merely a nightgown shielding you from the cold air of the night, a soft smile adoring your lips from the moment you realized it was him.

“diluc? what’re you doing here this late?” you said, grabbing a coat from behind the door and closing it behind you. a foolish hope sprung inside him when you joined him outside, as he stared at you with a little grin, working up the courage to speak up.

“there’s something i wish to tell you about” he merely whispered, gesturing you to come with him.

the walk to windrise was longer than the ones you remembered from your childhood days, and the sharp air nibbled on your skin mercilessly, to the point your legs hurt a bit when you reached the tree.

diluc turned your way and spoke for the first time in what felt like forever, but was thirty minutes.

“i hoped not to burden you with the secret i’ll share with you now, and i’m sorry for whatever bad outcome it might cause, but… truth is, i can’t keep it to myself anymore, and if i want to have some peace for myself, i have to trouble you with it.” he said quietly, settling worry in your gut.

“you can tell me anything” you assured calmly “your secrets are always safe with me”

he took one last look into your caring eyes, feeling a little better just having you smile at him, and took a breath before spilling.

“i might’ve been in love with you for the last ten years” he said calmly “and i know this is hardly the time, i really do, but i just-“

“what?”

you looked at him in surprise, blood audibly pumping through your veins as you tried to comprehend what he just said.

“i do understand that you’re engaged, but-“

“do you? do you, really?” you said bitterly, making his heart sink in regret. “because to me it seems like i waited for you all those years, i hoped, and i prayed, and i wished, and after i finally, finally gave up, you decide to mess with my emotions right when i thought i had them figured out?”

diluc was stunned. so you felt the same way about him, once? he could’ve had all he hoped for? he didn’t even comprehend the rest of your sentence fully, focusing on how you just admitted to having feelings for him somewhen in the past.

“no, i’m not trying to mess with you, I’m-“

“but you are! honestly, diluc, i knew you were somewhat insensitive, but this is blatantly cruel! what- i don’t- why didn’t you say this to me earlier?”

“i wish i did, but to me it seemed like you were always chasing someone else, and i didn’t want to-“

“bother me? is that it? you didn’t want to bother me so now you decided to try and mess with my relationship? god, i- i need to be alone right now. sorry.”

and with that you were out of your usual childhood spot, leaving him alone under the tree that shared both of your secrets and plans for so long.

a longing stare pierced through your back as you ran back to mondstadt, not going home right away, but trying to find a spot where nobody would find you.

“fuck” he muttered. he was familiar with the feeling of loss, but the fact that it was nobody’s fault but his own made it a hundred times worse.

diluc was a cute child, and grew up to be a polite gentleman. so he was there to apologize to you on countless occasions, ready to beg forgiveness for his recklessness and lack of thought, but you were never there to hear his pleas.

and so it went on, a huge wedding covered the streets of mondstadt in white while he stood in the sidelines, his friends said goodbye to you as he watched from a safe distance. you left, and so did every remaining proof of his embarrassment.

nevertheless, he sent countless letters, no address on the envelope, save for the name of the city, hoping that one of them would eventually reach you. sorrow and tears almost spilled from the words written in a tidy cursive, but he never had any certainty about wether they reached you or not.

and while he hoped you forgave him,

he knew you didn’t.

#genshin impact #genshin boys #diluc angst #diluc x you #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc #diluc headcanons #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

Falling Angels

A/n this literally poureddd from me, might be bad bc recently i’ve hated everything i’ve written (my drafts are full lol)

Series Summary: Y/n is a rising star in the most famous circus in Ketterdam because of her ability to see the future. Unfortunately for her, Kaz Brekker knows more of her backstory than he should, and he’s willing to use that to his advantage. The one thing he’s not betting on? That he doesn’t know her entire story

Chapter summary: Y/n gets a visitor before getting tricked into the most dangerous show of her life.

Pairing: SOC x reader, Kaz Brekker x psychic! sunshine-y! reader

Warning: mentions of sexual harassment, slight cursing, near death experience

Enjoy it, because it doesn’t last. That’s what the older girls whisper, mock casualness attempting to disguise bitter undertones as I walk past them. They say this, sharp nails ready to be covered in blood as red as their lipstick, because the pile of gifts from my ‘admirers’ keep coming. Circus hands keep approaching the long vanity in the dressing room tent, tapping me on the shoulder politely to shove cards and bouquets of flowers in my lap. They don’t understand that the praise isn’t because the patrons of our performances find me more beautiful--they’re desperate for my favor. They’re desperate to know their future.

Looking at myself in the mirror, the pageantry of it all has not yet grown old to me. My hair is still in the process of being styled, my stage makeup is half done, and I am not yet coated in that golden shimmer Senia always dusts across my cheeks and shoulders. But I am more enhanced than I normally am, eyes made bright by thick coats of mascara, cupid's bow made prominent by ruby lipstick. The lip look is more daring than I’ve been before, but there can’t be much harm in change. Not when half the women here keep looking at me like I’m the saint of virginity.

It’s not my fault that the Ringmaster thought an angelic aesthetic would work best for the fortune teller who walks around before the show, reading palms so that people can have their pockets picked. It’s not my fault people want an angel to take the stage and call people down from the audience to get a detailed reading around the crowded circus tent. I don’t pick the costumes, and while I acknowledge that mine shows the least amount of skin, the Ringmaster found a way to dress me as suggestively as possible without ruining the illusion of innocence.

At least the flowing tulle wings that are stitched into the back of my costume are beautiful. It’s easier when I enjoy the good.

“Y/n!” The familiar call of Senia. I turn my head, beaming. “You’re a vision, and all of those jealous girls--you can tell them to take their wrinkling faces and--”

“Seria.” For someone so much like a mother, she often needs to be reminded that not everything needs an aggressive rebuttal. “Think about it from their perspectives--their entire existence is dependent on how sellable they are, how attractive they are to men who only want to use them. If that makes them mad at me because they feel like my youth and novelty is taking from them, then that’s okay.” She raises a fine eyebrow. “I can take a few mean words.”

Seria purses her lips. “Okay, but I’m just as old and tired and you don’t see me trying to poison you.”

I roll my eyes.

“Look, it's our very own saint.” I roll my eyes, Via’s shrill voice piercing through me like an annoying papercut. “And in such a scandalous lip color--has the Ringmaster finally taken you to the ivory tent?”

Ivory tent. It’s been mentioned to me before and always in jest. “Where he takes me is none of your business, if not being the favorite hurts you so badly ju--”

She laughs, the sound is pure vile. “Being the favorite is the worst thing you could be in a place like this. You’re shiny and new and soon you’ll be as used as the rest of us--Seria’s use is waning, what happened to her today is proof of that. Soon you’ll have no one to protect you.”

When she looks at me I see more pain than hatred. “I think we’d get along better if I had it in me to hate you.”

She raises an eyebrow before shaking a cigarette from a small box into her palm. “You’ll get there, princess.”

The nickname leaves me burning. There’s nothing more consuming than fire. “You better pray to the real Saints I don’t.”

via laughs, lifting the cigarette to her lips and lighting it with her abilities. She walks away, turning my threat into that of a child’s.

“She’s right on two accounts.” Seria hums, “The Ringmaster will kill you if you wear that lipstick and Ketterdam turns people like you into people like me. We could save up, pay off your indenture--get you out.”

Seria doesn’t need to make sacrifices like that. Not for me. Besides, there’s no leaving Ketterdam for me. Not anymore. “Being like you wouldn’t be a bad thing.” I scratch my arm, see through material wrinkling as a result. “And I can’t--I can’t just leave. I’m a psychic, no Grisha can see the future. I need the facelessness of Ketterdam.” Her lips thin in protest. “And don’t think I didn’t hear what she said about you--what happened to your foot, and what’s in the ivory tent? People keep saying it, whispering it like there’s--”

“That tent is nothing that will ever concern you. I’ve given you my guidance, and the one thing I ask is that you never ask or go to the ivory tent.”

I swallow once, the intensity in her eyes leaving me raw. “What if he tells me to?”

“He won’t.” Seria breathes. “He doesn’t like that for you.”

This isn’t an argument I can have now, not with two minutes until the show starts. “And your foot?”

She shrugs, holding up a bandaged ankle. “You get older, your ligaments like the tightrope walk less and less. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not tightrope walking like that--”

“Yes, I am. The Ringmaster doesn’t know and he can’t--if I start giving him performance trouble--you don’t know what happens to the girls who can’t pay off their indenture by performing.”

I swallow once. “You’ll be careful?”

“Always,” she grins, “Besides--one day you’ll know enough about tightrope walking to help me on days like this.”

The last time I trained on the mini-tightrope had proven me to be a disappointment. Still, I smile at her softly. I open my mouth to respond, but a quick tap to my shoulder silences me.

“Miss,” a circus hand I recognize begins.

I smile politely. “Please leave any gifts on my vanity--”

“It’s not a gift,” he mumbles, voice taut, “You have visitors.”

Something solid pushes itself into my chest, wedging itself between my lungs. Have they found me? “I-I don’t take visitors. Not before shows, if someone wants a private reading they’re to go to my tent at the front--”

“We’re not here for readings or any of the other lies you sell.”

...Surprising. I let my gaze move from the face of the circus hand and towards the individuals behind him. A man, tall and dressed in business attire--hat and all. His face is all sharp angles and his eyes are emotionless. His leather-gloved hands grip the head of an intricate cane. Next to him is another tall man, dressed a little more casually, with dark curls. Lastly, there’s a girl, with oil-black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail.

“Then what are you here for?”

Seria, never one to leave me unattended around strange men, takes a step in front of me. “I know who you are, Dirtyhands, and I know there’s no business you could find with her.”

What? Dirtyhands? Can people in Ketterdam ever just be normal?

“I wouldn’t speak so certainly.” I don’t like the way his eyes narrow at Seria or the way his grip on the cane tightens.

Thoughtlessly, I stick a hand between them, forcing Seria back slightly. “I apologize, she’s protective--always assuming the worst in people. Though considering she called you ‘Dirtyhands’, maybe that’s what you want.”

Ugh. All I do is ramble when I most definitely shouldn’t. “Want what?”

Eyebrows drawing together, I force myself to hold his gaze. “For people to assume the worst.”

The response seems to confuse him. That’s okay--I’ll take anything over aggressive. “The only people I want to assume the worst are those I want to be right.”

Okay. Dramatic was a fair assumption.

“Seria.” Oh no. I know that voice. I know that voice too well. “They tell me you're injured.”

Seria stiffens, as does every performer when he addresses them. “Not too injured to perform, sir.”

The Ringmaster sneers. “I can’t risk you falling and embarrassing me. Perhaps tonight you’ll make your money by spending the entire show in the ivory tent.”

The way she hardens wrenches my gut. I press my hands to avoid reaching out for her. “I can do the tightrope.” The Ringmaster’s gaze shifts towards me. “I can do it--and I can do it well and I’ll give the profit to Seria.”

He tilts his chin, regarding me in a way a woman should never be regarded. He’s a predator and I’m a lamb that’s lost its way. Still, I hold his gaze. I don’t flinch, even when he moves to brush his knuckles along my cheek. His touch is acid. Pure, burning acid. “The wings I placed on your back are decorative.”

“I don’t need them.” Total bullshit.

“Hm,” he breathes, letting the smell of alcohol fill the space between us, “I’ll allow it.” The Ringmaster drops his hand to his side. “Wipe that lipstick off your face before someone mistakes you for one of these common whores.”

How I don’t throw up at the sight of him is a miracle in itself. By some small mercy, he turns and walks away before I have to respond.

“You’re an idiot--you know you’re not ready for the tightrope.”

“There’s a net,” I try to keep my voice light, dismissive. She remains tense. “Seria, I had to.”

“No, you could have--”

“It’s not fair that you’re always a shield for me. When the opportunity to shield you for once comes, I’ll take it.” Turning before she can protest, I try to walk forward. The stranger places his cane where I intend to walk, intentionally warning me that he decides when our conversation is over. Unfortunately, I used up all my patience with the Ringmaster. “130 kruge.” He raises an eyebrow. “That’s the estimated amount I’ll make tonight, unless I’m late and excluded from the show. Either make up the deficit you’ll be costing me or let me go.”

His eyebrows draw together, shifting his expression from neutrally calloused to something much darker. “Kaz.” This comes from the girl. She takes a step forward. “Look one step ahead.”

“Excuse me?”

“Everyone thinks you’re not supposed to look down, but looking up is just as impractical.” She pauses, expression strangely mesmerized, “Look one step ahead--not at your feet.”

My genuine smile shocks me. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you, Sankta y/n.” Her head bows, hands held together as if in prayer.

Oh. She’s one of the religious that believes me an actual Saint. “I appreciate the sentiment, but if I was a Saint I’d be able to help people.” No matter what I do, no matter how much blood I offer, I can never help people. “And as you’ve seen--I can’t.”

The crowd’s roaring is a different world to me. On the platform, feet away from the other wooden structure acting as solid ground, everything is different. I am now in a world where the only thing to believe in is a taut rope. The net is beneath me. I’ve seen it--I’ve checked it.

“And for our grand finale!” The Ringmaster calls, voice billowing over an excited crowd. “Our very own angel defies death!”

An odd way to phrase the tightrope walk. It’s never called ‘defying death’. I had been surprised when I was told that tonight the tightrope walk would be the grand finale--I assumed it was because it featured me. I’m always the finale now. I try to move my foot off the platform but it’s planted firmly. No. I need to see Seria--I need to see who I’m doing this for. I force my gaze to the ground, panic rising in my chest.

Instead of Seria, I see Via--her smirk apparent even from here. Spite’s a decent motivator. My foot descends off the platform, touching the tightrope cautiously. And then I move my other foot. All of me is now on this damn rope. I hadn’t been unforgivably horrible during practice, but I hadn’t been graceful either.

Don’t look down, don’t look up--only look one step ahead. One step ahead--one step at a time. Balance. I take another step. The room is so silent there’s no doubt in my mind the sound of my bones cracking would be heard from the back row. But there’s the net. There’s always the net. I take a second step. And then a third--eyes focused on only one step ahead.

And then the phantom of flame comes to claim me. Fire. The world around me is burning. Damning the consequences, I let my gaze fall to the world beneath me. The net--the Ringmaster had an Inferni light the net on fire. Via--that explains the look.

I can’t fall--the guilt would kill Seria.

Panic twists my stomach as I continue forward. One step ahead. One step ahead--the flames lick upwards, promising pain and grief all over again. One step ahead. One step--that’s all there is to it. The warmth of the fire calls to me. Burning. Burning--and one more step. This isn’t forever. This isn’t permanent--either way this will soon be over.

There’s no miracle for me. No good grace, no wings that would let me save myself. There is only balance.

One step ahead. And then another step. And then I see the other wooden platform. Thank the Saints. I grip the ladder of the platform as quickly as possible. The cheers mean nothing to me as I scurry down the ladder.

I feel a sharp breeze, a Grisha putting out the flames. Anger pools in my chest as I move towards the exit of the tent.

“Y/n.” No. Not him again. That man--Kaz, Dirtyhands, whoever he is--needs to go away. “Y/n.” I turn sharply, anger pulsing through me. My expression must be feral, because he stalls. “They didn’t tell you that they were going to burn the net.”

The fact that he can tell--that he can see my panic and how close I came to death twists my anger into something more fragile. “No.” My posture straightens. “I need to go now, I do--I do readings after shows.”

“Y/n.” He repeats, firmer.

My nails dig into my palms. “I’m going--”

“I know what you are.”

Tensing, my breathing stalls. “What?”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kazz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x you #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows x you #soc imagine #six of crows imagine #my works #series #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #grishaverse #grishaverse x reader #sab netflix #grishaverse imagine

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expectingtofly · 3 years

Text

First Day Jitters

established dean/cas, toddler!jack, dramatic parenting

1.7k

written for day 4 of @smiledean and @chocolatecakecas's follower celebration || prompt: baby!jack

“Say cheese.”

“CHEESE!” Jack beamed at the camera and Dean snapped a photo. Gripping his backpack straps, Jack twirled around as Dean lowered his phone. The school yard was already filling up with other kids Jack’s age, ready for their first day of school.

“Wait, take one of us together,” Cas said, crouching down by Jack. Jack threw his arms around Cas’ neck, nearly making him lose his balance. They both smiled at the camera, twin grins, and Dean couldn’t help a smile as he took their photo.

“Kindergarten!” Jack yelled as he released his grip on Cas.

“Alright, dude, remember,” Dean said, pocketing his phone. “No yelling in class.”

“And no powers,” Sam spoke up. “Most important rule of all.”

Jack nodded solemnly. “And if anyone picks on you…” Dean looked at him expectantly.

“Hit first, ask questions later!”

Cas rubbed at his forehead. “Dean, we’ve talked about this.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Tell us and we’ll beat them up for you.”

“Okay,” Jack said, kicking at loose gravel with his cowboy boots. He had picked out his outfit himself—boots with bee socks, jeans with sunflower patches, and a blue t-shirt with a green brontosaurus. Complete with a Barbie backpack, his outfit was truly… colorful. A lot for the eyes to handle at once.

Teachers milled around outside, and Cas said, “There’s Jack’s teacher.” He waved and she made a pained smile before quickly looking away.

Dean stifled a laugh at Cas’ hurt expression. “Guess we didn’t make the best first impression at Back to School night.”

“Who woulda known asking to lay out salt lines wouldn’t make you any friends,” Sam deadpanned.

“I still think we should’ve warded the school,” Dean protested.

“We’re trying to not get kicked out,” Sam shot back.

“Hey!” Jack said, getting their attention. He balled up his fists on his hips. “No fighting! This is an exciting day!”

“Yes, it is,” Cas agreed, giving them a pointed look. “And we are very excited for you.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Dean said, holding up his hands. A bell rang and a teacher opened the door to the school. “Think it’s time to go.”

Jack turned to watch the rush of kids to the school, his backpack nearly as large as he was. Had the school building always towered over him like that? Dean wondered.

“Exciting day,” Jack said to himself, sounding less sure.

“Hey,” Sam said, crouching by his side. “You’re gonna have fun, okay?”

Jack looked back at them and Dean nodded. “We’ll be waiting for you when school’s over.”

Jack took a deep breath, then smiled. “Okay.” He gave them all one last hug, and Dean couldn’t resist smoothing out his hair and checking the straps on his backpack.

When Jack let go of Cas, Cas grabbed his hand, holding tight. “You’ll pray to me, right? If anything happens?” Jack nodded, tugging a little to get away.

Cas held on. “And you’ll remember everything to tell us when you get home?”

“Yes, Dada.” He tugged again and Cas let him go.

Dean watched him run to join the kids lining up at the doors. The teachers counted them, and Jack started chattering with the boy standing in front of him wearing a dinosaur backpack.

“Fuck,” Dean swore under his breath, feeling his eyes prickle as the teachers started leading the kids inside. Jack skipped his way to the door, his backpack bouncing behind him. Right before he disappeared inside, he turned and waved.

Dean hastily blinked and swallowed hard, waving back.

The doors closed behind the kids and the yard was reduced to silence.

“Now what?” Cas asked, staring at the doors.

“Now we leave and don’t stalk the school,” Sam said. He grinned, looking at Dean. “Are you crying?”

“Shut up,” Dean said, wiping at his eyes brusquely. They started for their cars, though he couldn’t help looking back. Third window on the righthand side, second floor. Jack’s classroom. He’d cased the school last week, learned the exits and entrances. Still, standing outside, he felt helpless.

“Shit—he had his lunchbox, right?” he asked, hand pausing on the Impala’s driver's door. “And his pencil case, and—”

“You checked his backpack three times this morning,” Cas reminded him. “He has everything.”

“Right, right..."

“See you guys later for dinner?” Sam asked, heading to his own car.

“See ya then,” Dean agreed, getting in the driver’s seat. He paused before putting the key in the ignition, though, eyes drawn to the school doors.

“He’s going to do great,” Cas said, sounding a little too much like he was trying to convince himself.

Dean nodded. Jack had done great in preschool and they had spent all summer preparing him for the transition into kindergarten. Not that Jack needed much convincing to go. He loved school; it was more Dean and Cas who needed time to adjust to the idea.

A sniff drew his eyes to Cas, who was wiping at his eyes.

“Fuck, not you too,” Dean complained, feeling his own eyes well up again.

“His carseat,” Cas said simply, and Dean glanced at the backseat where Jack’s empty carseat sat.

“Shit,” he muttered, sinking in his seat and rubbing his eyes. “Thought we were pros at this after a year of preschool.”

“Guess not,” Cas said. He produced a tissue box out of thin air and handed one to Dean, then blew his own nose.

“Alright, enough,” Dean said, swiping at his nose and balling up the tissue. “Enough crying. He’s going to kindergarten, not off to war.”

Cas nodded and determined, Dean pulled out of the parking lot. He and Cas had taken the day off, which in hindsight was the wrong move because now they had too much time on their hands. Trying to distract themselves with errands didn’t help either because everything suddenly reminded them of Jack.

They went to the local gardening center, where Cas stroked the daisy petals with a soft look in his eyes. “I should buy some for Jack.”

And then the bakery: “We gotta have snacks when he comes home,” Dean told Cas, selecting a dozen donuts.

And, stopping at the street taco food truck downtown: “Jack’s eating lunch now,” Cas said, checking the time, the mournful look on his face not matching the delicious taco in his hand. “And then recess.”

“Hope he’s made friends,” Dean said, his own taco suddenly tasting flavorless.

“He will. He’s very friendly.” One tear dripped into his guacamole.

“For fuck’s sake,” Dean said, gathering up the remainders of his food. “Come on.”

The school yard was alive with kids yelling, laughing, swinging, playing hopscotch, and skipping rope. Dean idled close to the curb, scanning the yard through the fence. He was well aware that he and Cas looked extremely suspicious now, but he hoped the school parking pass hanging from the rearview mirror helped prove they weren't creeps. Just overly protective parents. Which was only a bit better.

“There he is!” Cas said, pointing out his window. Dean leaned over him to see Jack jumping over a hopscotch chalk drawing. One foot, two feet, one foot, two. Reaching the end, another kid high-fived him and Jack beamed. He cheered as someone else went through the course, then, the game abandoned, Jack ran with the others to the swings.

He swung higher and higher, cowboy boots kicking into the air. Dean was pretty sure he could hear his laughter rising above everyone else’s.

“We’re being stupid,” Dean realized. Cas looked at him. “He’s fine. He’s doing great. We don’t have to worry, we just gotta let him do his thing.”

Cas looked back at Jack, then took a deep breath. “You’re right.” The bell rang and Jack slowed his swing, jumped off, and joined the kids headed inside.

Determinedly facing forward, Cas said, “Alright. He’s got this.”

“We got this,” Dean amended, and Cas smiled.

“We got this.”

***

“DAD!” Jack ran full force to Dean, crashing against his legs. Before Dean could recover, Jack turned to Cas, who crouched down and took him into his arms, nearly getting knocked down in the process. He held onto him tightly, shutting his eyes as he buried his face into Jack’s shoulder.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you too,” Jack said, extricating himself from his grip to hold up a slightly crinkled piece of paper. “I drew a brontosaurus!”

“That’s beautiful, Jack,” Cas said, admiring the drawing. “That’s going on the fridge.”

“Had a good day?” Dean asked. Around them, other kids streamed out of the school to waiting parents, and Jack nodded enthusiastically.

“The best!” He took Cas’ offered hand and told them about his day as they walked to the Impala. True to his word, he had remembered every detail, down to the amount of times he used the bathroom and the name of the lunch lady.

“And I got to swing at recess!” he told them, clambering into his carseat.

Dean and Cas caught each others’ eyes guiltily over the Impala’s roof. “I’m glad you had so much fun,” Cas told Jack, buckling him in.

“Thanks.” He swung his legs as they got into the front seat. “Did you have a good day?”

Cas glanced at Dean. There were plenty ways to answer that question. Looking back, though, seeing Jack bravely walking into school, being so independent, making friends…

"Missed you, but we managed,” Dean answered truthfully.

Cas smiled at Dean before twisting around to look at Jack. “We’re proud of you, Jack,” he told him, and Dean nodded.

“Did you cry?” Jack asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Sam said you were going to cry. I didn’t cry.”

“Just a little,” Cas admitted. Dean snorted and Cas elbowed him. “Dean more than me.”

“Hey!” Dean protested.

Jack cackled. “I knew it!”

Dean shook his head, muttering about murdering Sam. Jack continued his recap of the day, and Dean resigned himself to getting stuck in after-school traffic for the next twenty minutes.

Leaning back in his seat, he grinned at Jack stumbling over his words in his excitement to share them. It was a good day.

#b&acw #creativecaviar #spncreatorsdaily #did anyone ask for more dean and cas being overly dramatic teary parents?#no #did i write more?#hell yeah #established dean/cas #baby jack #dadstiel #cas and dean are in touch with their emotions #so they cry a lot idk #destiel fic #expectingtofly writes

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lavenderwhore444 · 3 years

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Alright let’s talk about smell dick shigaraki BEFORE U JUDGE JUST HEAR ME OUT,shigaraki having a crush on u (of course) been wanting to be with u but he was too ashamed and embarrassed of his tiny dick, he thinks he never has a chance with u so he gives up, meanwhile u were dying for him to make the first move u end up asking him out, he couldn’t believe it of course he said yes forgetting all about his insecurities,everything went well now ya’ll are making out shit got heated, as u were trying to take his pants off, he started making excuses basically on the verge of tears, u finelly convinced him (ngl u kind of forced him) he started crying, truth be told u never cared about size in all honesty u liked pegging more so it didn’t really matter and u always found shigaraki beautiful, meanwhile shigaraki was having a full on mental down he started to get up since he knows u wouldn’t like him, until u pulled him and pinned him to the bed and pulled ur 11 inche strap on.

Kink pegging, god I love seeing shigaraki crying wtf is wrong with me- anyways I can’t think of anything, dont forget to drink water and get plenty of rest

-🤡

At first, I was like, ‘mmm small dick Shigaraki,’ as a joke, but bro...I don’t think it’s a joke anymore.

Ok, so y/n’s quirk is a shallow mind-reading quirk. She doesn't know your thoughts, but she does know your urges.

I have loved small dick shiggy for as long as I can remember. He acts all tough just to have this tiny little cock in his pants while he gets all embarrassed maybe even feels like less of a man because society equates having a large dick to being a “real man.”

But u love him and think it’s so cute—little dick for mommy’s little boy.

If you see my writing style change during the smut it's because I either a). Put on a seggsy playlist. Or b). I definitely did not listen to an asmr thing.

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‘So pretty,’ Shigaraki thought, drinking you in, ‘god I wish you were mine, y/n,’

You were sat at the table with most of the league playing Uno with dabi.

“Draw four motherfucker, ” you said, slamming the card down.

He cursed under his breath, “fucking bitch, ”

As he picked up his cards, Dabi questioned why he decided to put himself through this bullshit, why did he choose to suffer? You always beat his ass.

He put down a card, watching you slap down your next card.

“Uno, ” you said with a shit-eating grin on your face.

You giggled at the look of absolute rage on his face. He slammed down his card, and you put your last one down.

“Well, Dabi, I win again, ” you said.

You lifted his chin so he could look at the face of his superior.

“Another round?” you offered.

“Only if you'll make a bet, ” he said.

At the end of the last game, he had noticed the new mirror Kurogiri hung showed your hand.

He stood up and announced to the room, “if I win this game, y/n has to ask out her crush,”

“Hey, who said I had a crush on anyone?” you objected.

“Your texts with Toga, ” he grinned, “but that's beside the point. If you win, I’ll do whatever you want for a week, ”

“Oh, it is on, ” you grinned, “you wanna shuffle the cards?”

He smirked, “doesn't matter to me, go ahead, ”

You shuffled the deck. There was no need for your tricks this round. Dabi’s tricks, however, left you baffled at the outcome of the game.

“I lost?” you whispered in disbelief.

“What are you waiting for, y/n?” Dabi said.

He pulled your chair out and nearly tipped you out of it.

“Dont be shy, ” Dabi whispered, leaning in.

Well, this was it. You had hoped and prayed Shigaraki would make the first move, but you were forced to confront him. You sidestepped dabi much to his confusion and sat next to Shigaraki at the bar.

“Need liquid courage?” he asked, unphased by the whole ordeal.

He hadn't even bothered to get his hopes up.

“No, I'm um here to ask you out, ” you said, looking down, “sorry this is so awkward, I'll just go now, ”

You got up, but he pulled you back onto the chair.

“I’d love to go out with you y/n, ” he said calmly even though his heart was beating out of his chest.

“Really?” You asked.

“Really, ” he confirmed, putting four fingers on each side of your waist.

He leaned in a little, father absent from his face. Your breathing picked up as you followed his lead, brushing your lips against his. For a minute, you had forgotten the whole room was watching in anticipation until they began to cheer. You sighed and tugged him upstairs.

“I don't need them staring at us, ” you said, sitting down on your bed.

“I totally agree, ” Shigaraki said, moving closer to you.

You couldn't help the blush that grew on your cheeks as he slung his arm around your shoulders.

“You're so cute, ” he said, turning your face towards his.

He pressed his lips against your lips. They were perfect though a little chapped from the cold winter weather. You kissed him back eagerly, gripping his hair with your hands. Your fingers slipped through his soft blue hair. He pulled away smiling and pressed his forehead to yours.

“You need to move the mirror downstairs, ” he said, “dabi could see your hand the entire time, ”

“That bitch, ” you muttered.

He chuckled, "I'm glad we're on the same page,"

He pressed another kiss to your lips, slow and steady. You couldn't help but feel a small need inside of you begin to grow. Obviously, you pushed it back down. You didn't want to pressure him so early on. As you spent more time with him, you couldn't help but get more and more turned on by him. You couldn't stop staring at the way the veins in his neck reached down to the slope of his shoulders and disappeared. His sharp jawline made your heart flutter when he turned his head to the side.

The next time you got him alone, you couldn't keep your hands off of him.

"mmph- y/n hold on," he laughed.

You pressed wet, hot kisses to Shigaraki's neck, and he threaded his hands through your hair. You tapped into your quirk, and it seemed he was practically screaming for you to fuck him, but he wasn't hard? You worked harder, pinching and twisting his nipples under his shirt. He was moaning and groaning, but nothing was poking your leg.

"Hey, Tomura, I can tell you want this, but you're not hard," you said, "is there, um, something else I should be doing?"

"no, y/n it's fine don't worry about it," he stammered, "we can go watch a movie or-"

You pushed him down on the bed, getting on top of him.

"Just lemme work my magic, baby," you shushed.

"um, babe, it's just. I-I don't know," he said.

He felt so exposed with his shirt off but taking his pants off? He didn't know if he could do it.

"y/n I-"

"shh," you said, "just lemme help,"

He began to panic as you pulled at the waistband of his pants, but his need outshined his growing fear stopping you from picking up on it. To his dismay, you pulled down his pants and boxers all in one go. He felt the cold air hit his cock, and he began to cry. Shigaraki felt so embarrassed. Why him? Why couldn't he have a body like everyone else's? Why couldn't he be enough for you? He got up, not saying a word until you pulled him back down onto the bed.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, "I just- I want to be enough for you, but I'm just not,"

You held him, stroking his hair.

"You're more than enough for me. I'll always think you're beautiful," you said, "I don't care about bullshit like that. In fact, I have something better,"

You rifled through the drawer as he wiped away his tears. You pulled out a large strap-on and a bottle of lube. His eyes widened, and his cock twitched (as best it could). You giggled when you saw.

"someone's excited," you teased.

He blushed and nodded, "it um looks good,"

You smeared lube all over it and your fingers.

"Spread your legs, sweetie," you urged.

He did so gladly, exposing himself to you.

"fuck," you muttered under your breath.

He was so fucking gorgeous.

You pushed a finger into him as quickly as you could watching him gasp as his asshole clenched.

“You're very sensitive, ” you observed.

He blushed and pressed the side of his head into the pillow as he was still lying on his back. You guided his face, so he was looking at you.

“I want to see you, Tomura, if that's alright, ” you said.

He nodded once, “I’m okay with that y/n, ”

You smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

“You’re being a very good boy Tomura, ” you praised, “my good boy, ”

You started moving the finger again, circling and stretching his tight hole. He whimpered as you pushed in another finger. Despite feeling good, the experience was still a bit uncomfortable. Tomura bucked into your hand once he was used to the sensation. You watched in amazement as he acclimated so quickly; he was excellent at everything he did. How could one man be so perfect?

“More, ” he whispered, “please y/n. Give me more, ”

You kissed him much harder than before.

“Anything for you, ” you promise as you add in a third finger.

He squirmed and moaned while you prepared him. Your other hand grabbed the dripping toy. You pulled out your fingers, and he gulped.

‘How is that supposed to fit inside of me?’

You put it in inch by inch as he gasped and groaned.

“It feels s-so good y/n, ” he gasped.

You were only halfway in, and he was already losing his mind. His small cock was producing what seemed like a constant stream of pre-cum. Three-fourths of the way in, he started to struggle to accommodate the large toy. But he took a deep breath and let you push the rest inside. Once it's in all the way, he couldn't help but cry. It hurts.

“Take deep breathes for me, ” you said as you cupped your lover's face and left soft kisses all over.

He shook his head, “can’t. it h-hurts y/n, ”

You held him, kissing his forehead.

“It's okay, sweetie,” you shushed, “it's gonna be okay. You just have to hold on a little longer for me, ”

“I can't, ” he sobbed, “I can’t, ”

“Just one more minute Tomu. It’s gonna feel so good, ” you promised.

Shigaraki couldn't stop crying. He felt so full. Too full. You took his cock between two fingers and “stroked” it gently. He gasped and moaned so loud it reverberated throughout the room. You finally slid the strap onto your hips. You held it in your hands for most of the time, having much more control of your hands compared to your hips.

You rocked your hips gently. Slowly, not pulling out in the least. Tomura was clenching to the point of holding you like a vice. You moaned at the reaction. Even though you weren't being touched, watching your beautiful boyfriend come undone was enough for you. You let go of his cock, watching him squirm again.

“No, ” he moaned, “please don’t stop, ”

“I don't want you to cum too quickly, sweetie. This is your first time, after all, ” you teased.

He whined, “can you at least go faster y/n? Please?”

You picked up the pace without a word. Shigaraki wrapped his arms around your neck and pulled you down, so your chest was rubbing against his. Every time your shirt rubbed against his nipples, he let out a high-pitched moan. Your new angle hit his prostate head-on. His hands dug into your shoulders. If you weren't immune to his quirk, you'd be screwed.

“Y/n, ” he drooled, “fucking kiss me, ”

You were on him immediately, shoving your tongue deep into his mouth. He pulled at you hair.

“Y/n, ” he moaned into your mouth, “so good, ”

You sped up, and he yelped into your mouth. He was gasping for air even when you pulled away. You felt every part of him tense before his small cock shot out a surprisingly large amount of cum. Shigaraki was blissed out. Every part of him screamed to sleep, but he pulled you over him and yanked your hips down onto his face.

He licked and sucked, slobbering all over your pussy.

“Such a messy cunt, ” he groaned, diving back in, “all for me, ”

You collapsed onto his face, nearly suffocating his with your thighs (don't worry, he loved every second of it) before rocking back and forth on his face.

“Yes, ” you moaned, “god yes, Tomura, you're so good. I love it. I fucking love it. You're such a good boy. My good boy, ”

Shigaraki moaned into you at the praise, licking and sucking until you gushed into his mouth and all over his face. You collapsed next to him.

“Fuck, ” you gasped, “that was amazing, Shig, ”

You giggled and pulled him into your chest.

“That was so amazing, ” you praised again.

He wrapped his arms around you and muttered something incoherent before passing out immediately.

#tomura fluff #tomura smut #tenko smut #tomura x reader #mha tomura #tomura imagine #shigaraki tenko #tomura shiragaki #tomurashigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki smut #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader

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