#anyway I’m getting stoned and forgetting about work now it’s dead to me

[jess-abides]

Someone pls come make dinner 🥲

[madaqueue]

playlists

such a pretty house | "no surprises" x radiohead

synopsis: walking through the empty halls of what should have been your home, you reminisce on the life you could have had with gojo

pairing: satoru gojo x reader

themes/content: semi-canon curse au. angst. language. mentions of death/loss.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: thought of this mini series idea since i found this song and literally could not stop thinking about a tragic backstory to it with gojo, so if you wanna get the "real" experience listen to it while you read ! this is like...not conventionally happy lmao but here it is anyways :) i'll get back to the regularly scheduled series tomorrow but i just had to write this one

a sigh leaves your lips as you walk up the familiar stone path, now overgrown with long grasses, tickling against your bare ankles. the cool autumn air bites at your skin, dead leaves falling from the old maple trees and crunching under your shoes as you make your way up to the house.

this house.

reaching the front door, you turn the now-tarnished gold handle and step inside. the old wooden floorboards creak under your weight; it’s likely been years since anyone has been here, further evidenced by the thin layer of dust settled over the empty space.

the space that was supposed to be your home.

your eyes gaze to the right and your legs follow, taking you into the living room. the bay windows overlook the front yard, the wooden bench beneath them bare. it was supposed to have red pillows, a reading nook for you. he always knew how you loved those books, consuming knowledge like it was the only type of nourishment you needed. the stories, the worlds that let you forget time while he was away on missions. but now, every word you read feels baren. you haven’t picked up a book since then.

continuing your journey through the empty house, you find yourself in the kitchen. the cabinet doors are now falling off, and surely the stove wouldn’t turn on anymore - not that it really worked in the first place, but the two of you made do. you’d bring in pizza on nights when the shitty electricity died out, sitting on the floor lit only by candles, talking about your futures.

well, what was supposed to be your future.

the window above the sink looks over the backyard, the remnants of the flowers you planted now overgrown with weeds. what a pretty garden it could have been.

“can you plant me the blue ones?” he asked, his arms wrapped around you as you stood outside under the heat of the summer sun.

“you only like those because they match your eyes,” you tease, turning your head to face him.

“maybe so,” he grins. “how ‘bout this, let’s find ones that match your eyes too, so it’s like i’m lookin’ at you every time i see ‘em?”

“deal,” you giggle, leaning against him.

you find yourself at the stairs, slowly making your way up as your hand traces along the railing, dust collecting on your fingertips.

you aren’t even sure why you came here, after all this time, back to this house, the physical tomb of your past.

it was supposed to be for you and satoru.

–

you were just kids, stupid, young kids. when you met in your first year at jujutsu high, the two of you were inseparable. every class, every meal, every mission you did together. it got to the point where you practically lived together, trading off which dorm room you slept in so you wouldn’t have to be apart. the two of you were attached by an invisible thread that kept looping itself around your necks until it became too tight.

the mission was supposed to be easy: exorcise a grade 2 curse and save the family it had kidnapped. you’d done it before a hundred times, and having gojo by your side only simplified the whole thing.

that is, until you got hurt. until you were unconscious, at the brink of death. until you found out why they had sent gojo with you - you didn’t think much of it at the time, but this was the lowest grade curse he’d been assigned to for a while.

it was a test. the higher ups wanted to see what gojo would do when he lost someone. they needed him to prove that he was what they thought he was: the strongest.

except, like always, he never failed to surprise everyone. he wouldn’t let you go that easily; not you, his world, his love, his everything. they picked the wrong person to sacrifice.

by the time you awoke, it was too late. you couldn’t quite place it, but something was different inside you, inside your very essence. as your eyes fluttered open, all you could feel was the warmth of his embrace around you, his hair hanging forward as he clutched your body. hot tears streamed down his face and landed on your chest.

“i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry,” he muttered over and over, softly rocking on his knees as he holds you.

“s-satoru,” you manage to croak out, the taste of blood in your mouth.

his eyes shift up to yours, a darkness and fear in them you’ve never seen before.

“it’s okay, it’s okay now, i’m here,” he whispers, his voice shaking, pulling you into him.

–

reaching the top of the stairs, the empty hallway looms before you. you turn into the first room on your right, what should’ve been the library. empty shelves line the walls as you stand in the middle of the space.

“y’know,” his voice smooth as he sits across from you, “eventually i’m gonna get promoted, and i’m gonna need a big office.”

“oh yeah?” you respond, shifting so your head rests on your open palm, propped up against the table between you. “what makes you so confident about that? you know the higher ups literally hate you, right?”

“psh, they love me,” he pauses, reaching across the table to shut the book in front of you so your full attention was on him. “and then, i’m gonna fix up this house, and i’ll build you a library and an office for me, and we can spend every day in there together.”

you pretend to consider the option for a moment. “fine, but it’s still gonna be my library. i’ll let you put a desk in there but don’t you dare forget that it’s mine,” you joke.

his hand reaches up to the side of your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “as long as i’m with you, sweetheart, it can all be yours.”

you sigh, leaning against the wall before sliding down to sit against the old wood beneath you. he would’ve given you everything, he would’ve done anything for you.

–

it didn’t take long after the mission to figure out what had really happened: the grade 2 curse was actually a special grade, something you were woefully underprepared for. however, the higher ups had planned for that, even wanted it - they needed you to die. not because of any inherent value you had, no, but for satoru. they needed to see if he could handle a special grade curse on his own, something he had already proven he could do, but with a new challenge: loss. could he control himself, his emotions, his power, when he was forced to confront your death?

no. he couldn’t.

the only good thing about this being a special grade curse is that it was smarter, more cunning, than an average curse. not smart enough to beat gojo, but still.

when satoru saw you, your body slumped in the corner of the room, blood covering your face, something happened inside him. he snapped.

so, he did what any completely irrational person would do: he made a deal with the curse.

if it would heal you, it could have your cursed powers. this sounded like an exceptional deal to the curse, thinking that surely with your cursed technique it could easily kill gojo and leave the ordeal more powerful than when it began.

but, like always, gojo surprised everyone. even with your cursed energy he managed to exorcise the monster. he was glad you weren’t there to see it, the way his body took over as he pulled it apart limb by limb, eviscerating any remnants of the thing that dared to harm you. he didn’t even use his cursed technique, he needed to feel the life draining from it in his own hands.

when it was done, he ran to you. he held you. he cried over you. until you opened your eyes, whispering his name.

–

stepping out of the library, you continue down the hall and into the next room. the bedroom, the one you and satoru spent weeks planning.

“okay, what about purple?” you ask, holding up paint swatches to the wall.

“bleh,” he stuck out his tongue. “no purple. what about a nice green?”

you rolled your eyes at his theatrics. “honey, we have too much green already. by the time you’re done with it this entire house is gonna be green.”

his eyes light up. “what about honey?”

“what about it?” you ask, tilting your head.

“that’s it, that’s the color! it’ll be perfect, it’s warm, and sunny, and it’ll make me think of you whenever i’m in here,” he explains, nearly running over to you and picking you up, spinning you around. your arms wrap around his neck as he holds you in the air, both of you smiling with joy.

as you look at the room around you, the unfinished grey walls feel more empty than any other part of the house. it’s like looking at a skeleton, the raw, old bones of something you once loved.

–

of course, after you lost your cursed technique, you weren’t allowed to continue at jujutsu high. they had no purpose for you there, and you felt out of place with everyone anyways. gojo begged them to let you stay, offering to let you live in his dorm so they wouldn’t even need an extra room for you, but his request was repeatedly and ubiquitously denied.

“fine,” he huffs, pacing around your room as you sit on the bed, all of your belongings stuffed into boxes around you. “if they won’t let you stay, then i’m going with you.”

“gojo, you can’t. you know you can’t,” you explain calmly yet sternly.

he stops momentarily, looking over at you. “i have to,” he murmurs, “this is my fault, anyways.”

you stand up and walk towards him, reaching a hand up to his face, cupping his cheek in your palm. “the only thing that’s your ‘fault’ is the fact that i’m still here, and you better not be blaming yourself for that.”

“but-”

your lips press into his, the only way you could think of to get him to stop talking. he’s soft against you, his arms lowering to loosely hang around your waist. for a moment, you stay like that, just the two of you in your empty room.

pulling apart for a moment, you just stare at each other. finally, he breaks the silence. “okay, but if you won’t let me officially leave with you, can i at least sort of leave with you?”

“gojo, what the hell does that mean?” you smirk, not understanding what he’s even asking.

a smile breaks through his lips as he looks down at you. “i have something i want to show you.”

the house.

he holds your hand, pulling you up the stone pathway next to him, leading you to the freshly-painted front door, gold handle practically glowing in the sunlight.

“ta-da!” he shouts, throwing the door open and allowing you to see inside.

“it…it’s an empty house?” you ask jokingly.

“no,” he turns to you, holding your waist, “it’s our empty house.”

“what-”

“i got it for us,” he cuts you off, beaming down at you. “when i first heard that you might be asked to leave jujutsu high, i bought it, thinking we could move in here together.” you don’t say anything, stunned by his kindness, tears beginning to form along your waterline as you think about just how much you love him. “i wanted to give you a home. i hope we can make it one, together.”

leaning up, you kiss him again. finally, together, in your home.

–

why did you even come here? the cold, stale air stirs around your lungs as you rest your head back against the wall.

despite everything that happened, you had to see it one last time. you overheard someone at the store saying how they were finally going to be tearing this place down, putting in some new luxury apartments or something. it’s not like anyone lived here anyways, maybe it’s for the best. give the grave of your past a new life.

it had been nearly ten years since you were here last. a part of you wanted to move on, to forget it, but it hung in your mind like it had been nailed there.

you finally stand up, dusting off the grime that clung to your clothes from the floor. every step another memory you had here, another painful reminder of the life you never got to have.

–

it started slowly, at first. gojo kept getting tasked with harder missions, and he kept handling them with ease. even the higher ups were at a loss with what to do with him, his raw power developing into something they had never seen and had no idea how to control.

as you sat in the empty house, alone, you tried to not let it get to you, but the feeling ate away at you all the same. the glares you’d get when the two of you went out together, the whispers from other classmates or the higher ups, they clung to you.

you knew you were less than gojo - you always were, and it never bothered you. but now, with no cursed energy, you felt like nothing compared to him.

the words replayed in your mind, reminding you what you were.

failure. broken. fragile. useless. a burden. a hindrance. a flaw. a weakness.

of course, satoru never said any of these things, going out of his way to make sure you never heard the insults his so-called colleagues muttered about you, but it wasn’t enough. it ate and ate and ate away at you until you were empty.

when you left, his world collapsed. he begged you to stay, pleaded to let him come with you. he’d leave jujutsu, all the sorcery, all the hierarchy, all the bullshit behind if it meant he could be with you. but you knew he couldn’t; if he left with you, you’d just be proving them right. you’d be dragging him down with you.

“i love you, satoru,” you whispered, your thumb wiping away the tears that fell slowly down his cheek as you stood in the doorway of the house you promised would be your home. “that’s why i have to leave.”

–

making your way back down the steps, you sigh again, a single tear rolling down your cheek, your heart heavy with loss, the loss of the life you should have had. you and satoru, making breakfast together in the morning, falling asleep next to one another, planting flowers in the garden. the simple, quiet life. but instead, you’re here, alone.

your steps are heavy as you trace back through the rooms, the last time you’ll likely ever see them.

the floor creaks in the entryway.

slowly, your eyes follow the sound.

white hair, black uniform, and those bright blue eyes. he has a few more wrinkles around his cheeks, but it is absolutely, unmistakably, him.

“satoru?” you whisper.

he smiles at you.

[periprose]

pretty please rough navi quaritch smut where he splits reader's legs apart and breeds her?? Reader can be from the RDA and she has to let him breed her as part of the new embryo growth program :) <3

Woo boy anon!! This ask made my head explode in a really good way 😳 thank you

The Old Fashioned Way

Miles Quaritch x Reader

When Parker Selfridge tells you that the RDA needs one of your eggs, since you're a Recom, for new genetic material, you literally can't say no. It's an order that you can't refuse, since they're trying to make new embryos to experiment off of.

Of course, you're placed in a room with Miles Quaritch, your superior, who's unsuccessfully trying to harvest his own reproductive material, same as you. He decides to kill two birds with one stone, and suggest that you do it the old fashioned way.

Word Count: 3.8k

Genre: Smut, pwp, breeding kink, unprotected sex, Quaritch being obsessed, 18+, no use of Y/N

Reader's name is Axe

“No way.” You cross your arms, staring down at Selfridge.

He’s just told you about the new RDA program. Growing Avatars and Recoms is easy and all, you know the process. Na’vi DNA was extracted successfully about twenty-five years ago- and there’s a process of combining human DNA with it to create new bodies.

It’s just that the Na’vi DNA has slowly been losing it’s potency with every sequencing process. You don’t know exactly what that’s all about- just that cloning deteriorates something about how strong the genes are. 

So the scientists and geneticists have decided that they need some kind of replacement, and they need it now. They wanted to track down more Na’vi, but considering how hard everyone’s asses get beat anytime the RDA gets a few klicks near their territory, it was a no go.

They’ve decided on the “natural way.”

As Selfridge has just said.

“ Why… not… just take my genes, Parker?” You bite your lip, and Selfridge shakes his head.

“Don’t make this anymore awkward than it has to be, Axe.” Selfridge stares at his fingernails, which somehow makes him look like even more of a prick. “Your genes are no bueno . You, Zdinarsk, Wainfleet, and Quaritch are the last line of ‘normal’ Recoms, if we can call it that. If we try to extract your genes, and grow a Recom body, it’ll just be a waste of money. It won’t work.”

“Okay.” You inhale sharply, and Selfridge flinches. You forget sometimes in your Recom body that you’re way more intimidating than your old self was. Your dead self. “So what exactly does the ‘natural way’ entail?”

“What are you, a fucking virgin?” Selfridge laughs. Loudly. 

You snarl at him, and he flinches, again, before snickering.

“Jesus, you really are one of them, huh?” Selfridge scoffs. “Try not to fuck the sperm donor too hard when you see him.”

“Selfridge-” You grab his arm as he tries to leave, and with how much smaller Selfridge is, it’s like you’re dangling his body with your sheer strength. “ Motherfucker- tell me for real what’s going on, or I’ll snap your neck.”

“You’ll get shot if you try anything.” Selfridge says, but you can see in his eyes that he’s panicking. “Okay, okay. I’m just fucking with you. They’re just going to extract an egg from your na’vi-ovaries or whatever they’re called. Then the rest, you should know. Embryo production.”

You do know, but you don’t trust him.

It’s not like you have a choice anyways.

/

You were right not to trust him.

Selfridge has to be kidding. You’re sitting in your typical testing room in Bridgehead City. There’s no scientists around, at least not yet. You’ve come in on your day of ovulation, and you’ve been told to wear something comfortable and loose, and to sit around for a bit.

You lean back on the large medical bed, sighing loudly. You’re wearing some regular sweatpants, and a t-shirt that just barely reaches your midriff. Your hair is tied loosely in a low, wavy ponytail. You hope it looks comfortable enough.

You’re assuming an ultrasound, and- the weirdest part- some vaginal probing. You haven’t gotten a chance to play around with your new body yet, at least not like that, and you have no idea what gets you going, or whatever.

You’re sure some lube will be implemented, and then you’ll just lie there and count to ten. You’re just waiting for someone, anyone to come by to do this procedure and get it over with.

The door slides open. You sit up.

Miles Quaritch looks at you, his eyes bright, alert, and his mouth a little agape. His ears stand up for a moment. He’s holding a really old magazine, and a cup- oh no.

You can’t be in this situation with your superior. It’s just so damn awkward.

“Axe?” He shakes his head and just looks flabbergasted as he cackles. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I might as well ask you the same question.” You say flatly, and sigh. “They told me… they were going to do my egg extraction in here?”

“Oh.” Quaritch isn’t exactly a sensitive man, or one with any sort of sensibilities, really, so he just sits on the other medical bed next to yours. After a brief pause, he pulls the curtain, so you’ll at least have a bit of privacy. It’s the most comforting thing he’ll ever do.

“You looking at porn?” You joke, but Quaritch just sighs in response.

“Sooner you shut up, the sooner I’ll be done.” 

You can’t argue with that. It must be weird for him too, to still have to jerk off into a cup so he can be a pseudo sperm-donor for an embryo he’ll never know.

You try not to listen too much to what he’s doing, and you can tell, from how much he’s flipping the pages of some old 2100s era Earth porn- he’s not exactly focused on what he’s supposed to be doing. What the hell was Selfridge and the other scientists thinking? That you were interested in having a voyeur experience?

You know that Bridgehead is really busy, what with all the expansions and all for the new human citizens, so you're guessing this was the only free room. You wonder if Z-Dog and Wainfleet are in the same predicament. Why not at least put you in the same room as Z-Dog, so you have a bit of a girl-to-girl, weird bonding experience? Nothing says best friends like getting your eggs extracted together.

Soon, a little robot of some kind comes by through the door, and gives you what has to be the most embarrassing object. 

A dildo.

Not exactly a dildo, because it's not a toy, but it's a very well crafted, self-lubricating, vibrating egg-extractor. Long, slim, phallic and curved in a way that you know will hit the right spot. You feel yourself flush a little.

The robot tells you to "get yourself ready," with the device, and when you're adequately so, to click a button and let it extend itself into your uterus, where it will harvest the egg for safe keeping. 

You really think this is some kind of practical joke. You would've vastly preferred the cold, clinical nature of a doctor asking you to stay calm as they put you under, and insert something into you. 

But you guess it has to be somewhat pleasurable, so they can get you to do it again at some point if they need to. 

"Those sick bastards." You mutter under your breath, and you hear Quaritch stir a little next to you. 

You decide to just get it over with, and pull down your sweatpants- just down to your knees- and your panties. You lay back against the bed, and fiddle with the device. 

Even when you were on Earth, you usually just messed around with dudes who were on your squad in the Navy. This is kind of new territory for you.

You gently press the tip of the device against yourself, and feel awkward. It just is mechanical, cold, and weird- until it starts vibrating, and emitting some sort of magically warm gel that makes you feel soft, as if your skin is beginning to tingle all over, spreading from in between your thighs, up your stomach, and into your chest. 

That's pretty good. You have to admit that yourself. 

You tentatively push it across your folds, not in just yet, and you feel yourself slicken, wetness pooling around the device- it's a sudden whirlwind of a feeling that has you seeing stars. God, you really have missed this feeling, but it's somehow even more intense in your Na'vi body. 

It begins to vibrate against your clit as you move it up and down in a testing, rudimentary way, and you very softly- just barely, audibly moan.

/

Quaritch's ears stand up, on edge. He's horribly alert of everything you're doing, and there's nothing he can do but listen. 

First, your scent is incredibly strong- intoxicating in a way that makes him sure that this is what Sully felt when he got some local tail. Your arousal has him closing his eyes, and thinking of what he would do if he was just a few feet over- pinning you down and thrusting in. Second, that vibrating sound- he knows what it’s doing, and that makes it all the more tempting to just go over and show you what a real man should feel like.

Still, Quaritch wants to follow the rules just this one time, because he's not used to his Na'vi body, either, and he would rather figure out his whole… situation, down there, before he immediately proceeds into sex. 

But he’s a bastard, too. He always goes headfirst into whatever his instincts tell him to do, and it hasn’t exactly failed him yet. Except when he died, obviously.

He hears you, just very subtly moaning, and his ears perk up as he listens.

Quaritch is too impatient to care. There’s a throbbing in his camo pants now, with no thanks to that shitty old magazine, and he knows- like all men know- what he wants to do to get rid of it.

He lifts the curtain aside, where you’re currently holding that damned toy, as your pants ball up around your knees. You’re half-lying against a pillow, and your baby t-shirt is riding up, just showing off a hint of your breasts. You’re not quite in the throes of passion, not yet, but your mouth is half-open, and your lids are half lidded as you gaze at him, your hand stopping in between your thighs.

Quaritch clenches his jaw. It’s insane how fast his hormones are- pumping through his blood, to where his pants are getting uncomfortably tight. It’s quite a sight, he can’t exactly blame himself for moving forward. 

You, to your credit, don’t draw yourself back. You just stare at him, face turning warm- probably not red, all things considered- and Quaritch just stands in front of you, taking your hand from between your legs.

“This is what they got you using?” He scoffs, pulling at the device, away from your legs. You involuntarily twitch at the movement, and your pussy suddenly feels cold. 

Quaritch tuts at the way you’re shaking a little, how you’re clearly so needy, and he leans in with an eager, almost malicious smile. His body easily towers over your own, and you feel your heart race as he looks down at you- up and down your entire body. 

“Why don’t we do things the old fashioned way?” Quaritch murmurs, a deep rumble in his chest as he does so.

You think you should say no. First of all, you don’t want to get pregnant, and second of all, it seems like Quaritch isn’t exactly being impartial, is he? You know that Earth porn probably did nothing for the guy, but that doesn’t mean you have to be his unwilling participant.

Still, as Quaritch gently nudges his bulge against you, your folds slick against the roughness of the cloth, causing you to inhale unsteadily at the pleasant friction, you realize you’re entirely willing to do this. In fact, all things considered, Quaritch is a hell of a lot more attractive than some of the other Recoms out there.

And it feels more natural than the device, which you were sadly struggling to insert. Lube or not, it was a little too out there for you.

You breathe in, feeling his bulge throb against you. “Okay.”

Quaritch doesn’t take much time to unbuckle his pants and underwear, his dick flopping out as he does. You’re a little amused- it’s proportional to his body, but it’s a lot bigger looking than any of the human dicks you’ve seen. 

It occurs to you that you probably look the same way to him. Tall, lithe body. Impossibly tiny waist. Plump chest and ass. Thick thighs. The proportions are different, but good. 

“Are you laughing at me, soldier?” Quaritch pulls off his tank top, his bare muscles causing your face to warm a little, and he towers over you now. His arms are a lot stronger than yours and he pins you down. 

“What the hell are you gonna do about it, Colonel?” You rile him up a little. Just for fun, since it seems like everything has gone batshit insane today. 

Might as well get some extra anger out of him, so this can count as stress relief, too.

“Well, let’s see.” He uses his hands to spread out your thighs, flattening and pressing them into the mattress, splitting your legs apart. He massages your thighs as he talks. “I guess I’m trying to knock you up. Get you nice and filled up with me.”

It causes a tingle in your lower stomach, watching Quaritch size you up as his hands firmly grasp your thighs. 

He inhales, and- with the practised familiarity of someone who hasn’t done this in a while- pumps his fist over his dick, just to remember the sensation. Quaritch slides his dick against you, causing you to convulse as it snugly fits into your outer folds, the head of his dick meeting where your clit is. There’s a throbbing sensation that seems to flow from him into you- and you swear pre-cum must be leaking from him, or you’ve just gotten a lot more wet.

“Ah- fuck- ” You groan, and Quaritch clearly likes the sound of that, because he slides his dick back and forth a few times. Lubing himself up. 

“You asked for this.” He grins at you, and he pushes your legs really wide this time, lifting them up a little as he enters you. 

Quaritch groans loudly when his dick has fully sheathed itself inside you, and you feel yourself twitching in anticipation, feeling more full than you’ve ever remembered feeling when you were human. He pulls your legs forward roughly, and you feel yourself clench around him as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Quaritch sighs in satisfaction, pressing his forehead against yours. He draws himself back, slowly, his dick slipping out of you sloppily, easily, and then thrusts forward at full speed, immediately filling you, causing you to moan loudly. He begins to thrust, slowly, testing the waters, and with every time he fills you, you feel your walls clench around him, like your body can’t do anything but squeeze him.

Eventually Quaritch works himself to a much more rapid speed- like he has a lot of energy he desperately needs to get out. His skin is slapping against yours as he thrusts, sometimes at an even pace, now a bit more sporadically as he gets lost in the sensation, his taut thighs causing what can only be bruises against your own. He finds that with every thrust, your walls squeeze the head of his dick, causing a delicious throbbing sensation to run through his groin, and he wants to capture that feeling again and again. He finds it insane just how wet and good you feel when he ruts up against you- it’s heightened in a way that makes him never want to let go of you.

His hands make their way towards your waist- your ridiculously tiny waist- and he squeezes, marvels at the way it seems his hands could probably swallow you whole there. He’s alarmed to find out that he wants to kiss you there.

Quaritch tries to distract himself a little. Out of some instinct that he can’t quite place, he leans towards your ear, and nibbles on it with his fang. He didn’t exactly realize how much of an erogenous zone that would be for you- warmth spreads across your jaw and ears and cheeks, and you bite your lip in the absolute cutest way, your ears fluttering up and down, as you moan a little against his jaw. He moves his hands upwards, and pulls up your top, exposing your breasts. He roughly thumbs a nipple, causing you to wriggle around in pleasure, and then decides to latch his mouth onto it, his fangs just teasing and pulling at your nipple until you cry out.

He wants to do this again, and again, until you’re covered in his marks and bruises, all his , so he can claim you as his own woman to breed. Of course, Quaritch isn’t that stupid to actually go through with it- you’re a great soldier in your own right, and you probably don’t want to be owned- he just has this need inside him to absolutely own you in every possible way.

You feel like you’re impossibly hot, your body burning up from your lower regions, all the way to your face, to where Quaritch has bitten you, here and there. You’re feeling a pressure build inside you- and you think Quaritch can feel it too, considering how hard he’s grunting, pushing, and pressing inside you, seeking desperately for that release. 

Your hands make their way around his neck, and you lean in, and kiss him, your parted lips moving against his. You think Quaritch won’t be receptive- he is the coldest person you know- but his tongue swirls into your mouth, spit being swapped between the two of you, and he actually groans into your mouth, it being muffled and all. His hands stroke up and down your thighs, ass, waist, and tits, and he begins to thrust with a little more impact- less sloppy, more intensity- which has you absolutely melting at his touch, wrapping yourself tightly around him.

Some instinct of yours- something that comes with this body, at least- tells you to combine your queue with Quaritch’s, and you do so with shaky hands, your braid swinging over his shoulder, and combining with his as you hold them together. Quaritch doesn’t stop you, but what you feel surprises you.

Of course, there’s an overwhelming sense of lust and sex and arousal and all the things Quaritch is feeling right now, so he can breed you like a strong man would, but there’s also… affection? Attraction, yes, but affection?

You could just be getting confused with everything else that’s in there. But you think it’s there, a feeling of affection for his favourite subordinate, and that’s all you really needed to know. You like him, too. You feel like you’re really seeing him right now.

Quaritch moans against your mouth, and cums inside you, and it’s as if fireworks have gone off inside your brain, his orgasm lighting up yours in the soul bond. You convulse under him, moaning, feeling the waves overtake you as he grips you tightly, the ache of his cock causing you to feel pleasure ebb outwards.  

He slowly pulls out, and watches as cum drips down the sides of your thighs. Quaritch is kind of impressed- he did it, like he said he would- and he lays down next to you, sighing in contentment.

“So. Are we keeping it?” Quaritch teases, and you give him a wayward look.

“ It is not gonna be a baby, dumbass.” You roll your eyes, but something about Quaritch now makes you want to snuggle against him, his scent all warm and familiar, and so you do. You let your face lie flatly against his chest. You feel like it’s the bond- it still feels kind of present between you two.

“Woo, boy, if you don’t know how babies are made, I’m not sure I should have done you like that.” Quaritch laughs, and you sigh.

“Goddamnit.” You shake your head. “Selfridge said that our reproductive material are meant to make the next Recoms. They’re just gonna take the embryo, and use it’s cells to make a blank slate for the next Avatar or Recom or whatever it is. We just… took out the middle man for them.”

Quaritch isn’t too caught off guard by this. He’s used to all the science fuckery that the RDA does, and he decides to just let it go.

“Tell you what, Axe.” He uses your name, for real, as his hand combs through your hair. “Come by my quarters later, and we can do it again and again . However many times until you’ve got a baby in there.”

You still don’t want to be pregnant, and you’re pretty sure the colonel knows that- he’s just got some crazy impregnation fetish or creampie kink going on- but you’re kind of obsessed with him now, and the way that he keeps looking at you.

“I’m cool with that.” You nod, and if Quaritch was an honest man, he would say that he felt completely enamoured with that response.

You snuggle up next to him, not really caring that this is a medical lab, or that you should head back to your quarters. You’re tired, and you fall asleep fairly easily.

/

Quaritch doesn’t fall asleep. He feels crazy energized. You’ve given him a high unlike any other- and he’s in a particularly good mood because he feels… some way that he can’t articulate about you.

After you’re out cold, he puts his pants back on- and good thing he does, because Selfridge comes in without knocking. 

Selfridge looks from you, completely naked, and snoring under some blankets, to Quaritch, who’s suspiciously shirtless and stretching his legs out.

He looks aghast. “I didn’t think you two would really-”

“Really?” Quaritch leans over him. “Seems to me like you did it on purpose. Putting us in the same room and all.” 

Selfridge splutters over Quaritch’s accusation, and simply states that he needs the embryo, exiting after handing another extraction advice to him.

Quaritch jostles you awake. “Axe. You gotta do something and then we got to leave, alright?”

You nod sleepily, and he hands you the extraction advice. You rub your eyes and then realize what you’re holding.

“Turn around?”

Quaritch gives you a “ really? ” sort of look, but you’re serious, so he raises his hands jokingly and complies.

It’s a really quick one minute procedure. The little device crawls up inside you in an almost-undetectable fashion, and then after a moment, it pops back out, with a symbol indicating that it has successfully taken the embryo out, and put it inside it’s storage section. It’s weird- you know you were told to come here when you were ovulating, but it’s like a pregnancy test. It confirms that you and Quaritch kind of made a potential baby… or something that will go on to become genetic material for a blank slate.

You’re too tired to care. You put your clothes back on, and yawn, feeling your eyes fluttering. Quaritch picks you up, bridal style, as you snuggle your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. He exits the room, sidestepping around different human RDA members, and Recoms and Avatars who are staring the two of you down. Looks of confusion among all of them.

Quaritch doesn’t give a fuck. He steps into an elevator, and it pulls the two of you up towards the higher floors of the skyscraper.

You know this will be gossip for all the other RDA members, but for now you can just sleep, completely satisfied.

[glorixuspurpose]

The Missing Link

loki x black!daughter!reader

“So…all of you are Lokis? Even that one?” He asks, pointing at the girl, who scowls at him and smacks his hand down. 

“Yes…no…not really. We’re related..sort of, but obviously, I’m not him. He’s my-” She stops herself mid-sentence. “Wait, if you’re not a Loki, then why are you here, let alone with them? What was your nexus eve-”

  “Stop yelling! You’re gonna alert him!” Kid Loki shouts, pointing at the dark cloud in the sky. 

 They continue to walk until they reach a circular door in the floor, presumably a bunker. Classic Loki opens it.

 “Well?” Loki asks, still waiting on the girl’s answer. 

“I killed him.” She finally answers, as she descends into the vault. 

Something in his mind told it that it couldn’t be true. That girl looked familiar, too familiar, and he’s not one to forget faces.

“Wait, that can’t be true..” He mutters.

“Why can’t it be true?” She asks, mimicking his accent, as they all walk down to an area with a semicircle of chairs, with a small pool in the middle, probably for the alligator.

 She was starting to get annoyed. “Why not?”

“Because…er..well, what’s your name?” He asks. 

“Y/N.” She ever so quietly responds. 

“Y/N…”He repeats to himself, as if trying to memorize it. 

 “Then…that can’t be true because..I’m your father.” 

Y/N uncrosses her legs. “Woohoo. You finally figured it out. The last time you saw me was when I was more or less 5 years old, and Thor took you to see me. Honestly he was more of a father than you were, and honestly more than you ever will be.”

   (time skip bc i can barely remember this episode lol)

“Sylvie…and Mobius? You guys came here?” Loki asks. 

“Well some of us, not by choice, but for the most part, yeah.” Sylvie stays silent, then walks off.

 “And who might you be?” Mobius asks Freya, as if she were some random little kid that approached him. “Y/N.” She bluntly responds.

             (another time skip, woohoo!)

A/N: And now for the good part.

 “Why did you tell me that your nexus event was killing me?” Loki asked, as they sat in the grass.

“Quite the questionnaire, aren’t you?” You jokes, subtly breaking her ever so permanent poker face with a slight smirk. 

“You might as well have been dead anyway.” 

Loki frowns. 

“Well? What was it?” 

She fully smirks. “I don’t remember.” 

Loki’s hopeful face returns to a frown, then he creates himself a blanket, wrapped around him.  Y/N chuckles. 

“Of course you would do that.”

 Loki sighs. “Do you really not remember?” 

“I wouldn’t be a descendant of the God of Mischief if I didn’t tell a lie now and then. Of course I remember.” 

A gust of wind blows, and causes Freya to shiver, and her teeth to chatter. 

Loki alters the blanket so it’s wrapped around the both of them. 

 “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“You seemed cold.” 

“Is this some kind of stupid scheme to get me to tell you?”

“What? No!” 

 Y/N tilts her head so it’s leaning on Loki’s shoulder.

“Tell me about my mother.” 

 “Oh…wow. Okay,” Loki says, taken aback by the sudden question. 

“Well, she was a smart, strong, beautiful, and independent woman. She really never needed me. She had powers, just like mine–and yours– but she liked to use these fans with blades on them…and she liked to cut me with them.” That earned a chuckle from Freya.

 “She also loved the color purple. It was her absolute favorite, and she would wear it pretty much everyday. She also adored grilled cheeses ever since we first went to Midgard. She really could’ve had anyone she wanted.  I have idea why she chose me. Considering that, if it weren’t for me, she might have still been alive.”

 Loki subtly wipes his eyes with his shoulder. 

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“I thought I was saving her, but obviously I proved myself otherwise.” 

“Saving her?”

“Well you see, there was…let’s just say, a battle, and..she was hurt. I was out of my mind to think that this would work, but I turned her to stone. I thought that..because I did that, it would heal when I turned her back. I saw it work before..and I knew how to turn her back, but it was too late.”

 “I wish I could have spoken to her…even if it was only for three minutes. I…” She looks behind her. “I think she wants to talk to you.” She tell him, pointing to Sylvie. 

 “I think she can wait.” Y/N creates a watch and checks it. It’s only just going backwards. Really fast. 

“This watch is not useful, but I’m sure she’s been waiting long enough. I’m always gonna be here. There’s no leaving.” 

 Loki stands up, making the blanket disappear. 

“Except you can leave, because you’re coming with us.”

[callsign-rogueone]

Hi! I was wondering if one of my favorite authors had any new thoughts or theories on the new book know that we have a title in place?

I personally hope with the title we will get more xaden contain through dual povs throughout vs not just at the end!

howdy!! my first thoughts were just internal screaming tbh. I’m very excited. I pre-ordered both versions already. I’m locked in.

some of my (many) questions / worries / thoughts (more to come later probably)

onyx = his eyes, storm = her lightning… probably

I really hope we get more Xaden pov! I think we will, as the “special edition” doesn’t mention bonus chapters in his pov like the fourth wing special edition did. but it would be so sad to watch his thoughts slowly turn evil and watch him deteriorate 😭

are we picking back up right where we left off? if we are, my bet for the opening scene or somewhere in the first few chapters is gonna be the three siblings going through their mom’s office / burning her stuff 🥺

how fast does one “turn” after they become venin? like how long do we have to save him? he seems to be cognizant and “himself” right now, but what has to happen for him to slip and lose that control? is it only a matter of time, or is he gonna be okay if he just doesn’t pull from the earth again?

like, Jack touched Dain and he immediately broke down in pain and left dead gray handprints on his skin. how long until X starts doing that too, and he can’t hold Violet anymore? and is Dain okay? is he scarred for life now, or did it go away after a while? 🥺

speaking of Dain… what’s the deal with his dad? I don’t trust that guy literally at all. I would love to see Dain stand up to him more and stop being the perfect obedient and trusting son and give his old man the what for, like a real face to face confrontation and demand answers. I want him to be as ruthless with his dad as Brennan was with their mom (only Mr. Aetos truly deserves it)

and in general I want more of Dain’s redemption arc! but that’s just me, I know other people don’t like him as much as I do (which is a lot, so…)

we can’t forget poor Sgaeyl… I hope we see more of her relationship with Violet in this one, if Xaden is truly detached from his dragon now (how does that work?) she can’t be away from Tairn, anyway, so…

also… there are so many people who might not have survived the battle… :( we know the first years and Vi and Brennan are safe, because they were there fixing the ward stone, and I’m pretty sure sawyer made it through, but everyone else…? though I’m not too worried about that, it think it would be really cheap of her to be like, oh by the way, ____ died. I’d never forgive her lol

speaking of dead people, are we getting more Liam in this book again? I couldn’t handle it… but there’s a group of people on Reddit who are very convinced that Vi can see dead people as her signet from Andarna, which I don’t really believe (they disconnected her from Tairn at the time, so she probably couldn’t reach Andarna’s power either. and side note: think of how fucking haunted Basgiath must be. half the class dies before they can graduate, and it’s been there for hundreds of years presumably.)

that’s all I have for now. I’m sure I’ll reblog this later to add more / make this a kindof thoughts thread, but I’m always down to theorize with y’all in my inbox too! 🖤⛈

[stannyramirez]

𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞

 ❝Not a side or a main, I’m the only bitch he entertains. ❞

 ❝All my battles have been won but the war has just begun. ❞

 ❝The city looks so pretty, do you wanna burn it with me? ❞

 ❝As in heaven as on earth, we’ve been dead since our birth. ❞

 ❝Thank God I ain’t have to smack a bitch today. ❞

 ❝If I see you in the street, bitch, your ass is done. ❞

 ❝I don’t need your opinion, I do what I fuckin’ want. ❞

 ❝If he don’t eat it, he a d-bag. ❞

 ❝I’m killing myself when bitches would kill to be me. ❞

 ❝He keep calling, I ignore it. he says I’m crazy. Don’t I know it? ❞

 ❝I’d rather just do it then I’ll think about it later. ❞

 ❝I never learn my lesson, so I always do it twice. ❞

 ❝Say something once, why say it again? ❞

 ❝Cut deep and I’m still alive, I’ll talk my shit ‘til the day I die. ❞

 ❝They won’t fix it, they ain’t with ya. They won’t muzzle the mouth that just bit ya. ❞

 ❝Might show up to the party with a blunt — might get stoned, might get drunk. ❞

 ❝Walking passed the mirror like, ooh, damn, I’m fine. ❞

 ❝Haunted house, I make him scream. ❞

 ❝Bonafide hustler making my name. ❞

 ❝No one on the corner has swagger like us. ❞

 ❝We pack and deliver like UPS trucks. ❞

 ❝I got a basket full of lemons and they all taste the same. ❞

 ❝You can spend your whole life working for something just to have it taken away.❞

 ❝I don’t know why I say the things that I say, but I say them anyway. ❞

 ❝Keep on building prisons, gonna fill them all. Keep on building bombs, gonna drop them all. ❞

 ❝Chaos and commotion wherever I go. ❞

 ❝Tonight, I’m gonna let the Devil in. ❞

 ❝It’s my party, and I’ll fuck who I want. ❞

 ❝Who are you to change this world, silly boy? ❞

 ❝I’m a gangster, but I’m such a fuckin’ lady. ❞

 ❝First to watch my story but don’t like me? Weird. ❞

 ❝Never mind what I had to do to get these diamonds. ❞

 ❝These bitches wanna judge me but I don’t care. ❞

 ❝Only want a love where the card never declines. ❞

 ❝My baby is my employer. ❞

 ❝No, I don’t want your number. No, I don’t want to give you mine. ❞

 ❝Sun goes down, another dreamless night… you’re right by my side. ❞

 ❝You say go fast, I say hold on tight. ❞

 ❝Got you so obsessed, it’s sickening. ❞

 ❝You know I might break your heart, just let it slide. ❞

 ❝Could hurt you really bad, take everything. ❞

 ❝I let you try it, now you want to buy it, but you know my price is going up. ❞

 ❝So what if I’m toxic? ❞

 ❝Yes, sir, I’m’a do it again. I’m fucking him, her, probably they and them. ❞

 ❝I know you’re wondering what I’m gonna say, I do, too. ❞

 ❝My mind always wonders what will I say? I wish I knew… ❞

 ❝I love myself, I wanna see it. ❞

 ❝I’ma do just what I like on the regular. ❞

 ❝It’s really not my fault if you’re scared of a sweet little unforgettable thing. ❞

 ❝No, I’m not sorry. I’m just loving my body. ❞

 ❝You know I don’t give a motherfuck about your last name. ❞

 ❝Has someone like me ever existed? ❞

 ❝I can’t help it, I just woke up like this. ❞

 ❝Nightmare dream girl, I am what your type is. ❞

 ❝When I go into that ground, I won’t go quietly. ❞

 ❝I got troubles, they won’t let me be. ❞

 ❝I’ve been on the run since I was a boy. ❞

 ❝I’ve got troubles of more than one kind. ❞

 ❝If I had a dick, you’d probably lick it like a lollipop. ❞

 ❝Bitches say they fuckin’ with me, chances are they’re probably not. ❞

 ❝If he had a twin, I would let them run a train. ❞

 ❝I swear I feel like a toilet bowl shitting on everything I’ve said or I’ve done. ❞

 ❝Thanks for the talk, are we done? ❞

 ❝I’m over wasting time in life trying to be something I’m not. ❞

 ❝Do you ever feel like you’re underwater, drowning inside? ❞

 ❝I’m not gonna hang my head and be another accident. ❞

 ❝I’ve given up our romance. I have nothing left for love. ❞

 ❝I’m not sick, but I’m not well. ❞

 ❝Fingertips like memories, I can’t forget the curves of your body. ❞

 ❝Been around the world and found that only stupid people are breeding. ❞

 ❝I don’t even have a TV. ❞

 ❝Put me in the hospital for nerves and then they had to commit me. ❞

 ❝It’s a sin to live so well. ❞

 ❝I’d like to turn off time and kill my mind. ❞

 ❝Hear the voices in my head, I swear to god it sounds like they’re snoring. ❞

 ❝If you’re bored then you’re boring. ❞

 ❝The agony and irony, they’re killing me. ❞

 ❝She says she loves me at dusk, but at dawn I pack up my things and I’m gone. ❞

 ❝Never been a perfect soul but I will not apologize. ❞

 ❝I did a lot wrong that I can’t make right. ❞

 ❝That face, baby, it ain’t fair. ❞

 ❝I eat boys like you for breakfast. ❞

 ❝I never said it’s right, but I’m gonna keep doing it. ❞

 ❝I’m sick and, honestly? I’m getting high off it. ❞

 ❝We don’t deal with outsiders very well. ❞

 ❝They can smell the intention on you. ❞

 ❝They call me an American horror show. ❞

 ❝What I gotta do to find a sub or a dom to choke me? ❞

 ❝I could be your little monster. ❞

 ❝I like when you piss me off, it usually means the sex is rough. ❞

 ❝I am the big idea. ❞

 ❝If you got a problem, better speak up. ❞

 ❝My generation’s had enough, and you should be afraid. ❞

 ❝I like my coffee black just like my metal. ❞

 ❝I can’t wait for you to shut me up. ❞

 ❝I’m friends with all my demons. ❞

 ❝I’m the definition of the worst kind of mean. ❞

 ❝I will not die in the night but in the light of the sun with the ashes of this world in my lungs. ❞

[ina-nis]

On a constant basis, I feel bad about not working and about having given up on finding employment or a career.

The idea of having a job makes me want to kill myself.

I don’t care about money. I never go outside anyway, I don’t have a social life, and I have no use for material things. I live life in simplistic ways and I feel like money is a “curse” of sorts: without it I’ll be homeless and starve, I’ll be without my meds or access to transportation. Nothing good comes out of it.

I feel awful about spending time (or money) on leisure, and awful about having “free time” at all, since I don’t work.

It’s like I’m a parasite, leeching from others who work hard to earn their keep.

Somehow, in my head, I always conveniently forget I spent most of my adulthood looking for jobs, working odd gigs, studying and specializing to try to find something else, realizing I don’t want to do that, trying again, making connections and networking and it all was for nothing.

It’s almost like that’s a very good reflection of how I came to develop this disorder: no matter what I do, it’s not enough and I ultimately feel disposable and unwanted.

I tell myself, over and over, I need to find a career or something for me to do with my life because I know what I’m capable of and, to me, “disability” is but a placeholder or a stepping stone. I’m disabled for now, but I won’t be when I “get it together”.

But as the years passed, the reality I’m faced with is ruthless: the longer you go without employment, the worse it is (I have talked about this before here).

There’s not only employment discrimination but also the social stigma, which is terrifying. I’m not reliable because I don’t have a job/am disabled, that’s alienating on itself.

As I get older, that only feels worse.

I try to not check Reddit too much anymore because when I see avoidants my age and older, it leads me to despair.

Being stuck in a dead end job is alienating too, among other things. In the end, I ask myself what went wrong with us, and what could change. I don’t have any good answers.

It’s not like we’re carrying these dreadful feelings, these depressive behaviours and all that sense of disconnection and isolation on purpose. I don’t think it’s our fault this condition don’t really respond to treatment after you’re past anxiety symptoms, nor it’s our fault the fact that it might worsen.

For some, existing dissociated from everything and everyone, even from the self, is a good answer: avoiding the avoidance.

Sometimes I wonder if that’s it, and when will it get to me.

[theangelicimp]

The Queen's Court

❮ navigation | oc masterlist | guidelines | drop a request ❯

Summary: You’ve heard the stories; the whispers of a bloodsucking she-demon lurking in the manor on the hill. They say she prowls in the dead of night, in the shadow of the new moon, to claim whatever souls that are unlucky enough to stray into her path. But there are other tales that say she offers mercy – gifts, even to those who offer themselves up to her.

It’s time to see if the stories are true.

Word Count: 474

Pairing: Valera Savoy x Black!Reader

Warnings: None, just a general spooky/tense atmosphere

AO3: here

A crack of lightning illuminates the craggy cobblestone path before you for a split second. The wind nearly whips you off your feet but you push on regardless. You pull the hood of your jacket further down in some futile attempt to block out the blistering rain. It seems that everything around you is determined to halt your quest, but you continue anyway.

You know what’s at stake here – you can’t afford to turn back now.

The lights and water in your home were knocked out weeks ago by another storm, and the mayor, despite many many promises, has yet to fix any of it. You’re sick of stumbling around in the dark looking for a candle, you’re sick of having to waste money you don’t have on water bottles, and you’re sick of waiting for someone else to do something about it.

You come to a screeching halt when you run face-first into a stony surface. You fumble through your pockets for a torch, and when you light it, you are greeted with the snarling face of a grotesque. It takes everything you have in you to keep your footing.

You clutch the stone banister as you feel your way up the stairs – judging by the dark shape before you, you must be close to your goal.

After what seems like an eternity you finally make it to the imposing mahogany doors of the manor. 

You suck in a shaky breath.

You lift a fist to knock.

You blink.

Another crack of lightning illuminates the sky. This time you see velvet burgundy carpet under your feet, the glint of a crystal chandelier, and the vast gaping openness of an entrance hall.

“Now what’s a little thing like you doing so far from home?” A smooth lilting voice cuts through the air.

You whip your head towards the source; across the room stands a russet-skinned woman, bathed in the light of a single candle. Her upturned eyes glint crimson in the glow.

“I’m looking for someone,” you say aquiver.

“Oh? Who?” Her voice pierces the silence again, this time coming right next to you. You force yourself to stay where you are.

“I heard you can help people.”

“Hm,” the woman glides by you with silent footsteps. “What makes you so certain I’m the one you’re seeking out?”

“You move like a ghost. Your eyes glow. You don’t breath.”

Her eyes glitter with mirth. “So it seems.”

“Will you help me or not?”

She picks at a ring on her finger, adorned with the effigy of a raven’s skull. “You can’t get something for nothing, as I’m sure you are aware.”

Her face appears inches from yours. “What will you offer me in return?"

You pull down your scarf and bare your neck to her.

She smiles.

Pearly white fangs peek over her full lips.

Original A/N: A little blurb to introduce my OC Valera in preparation for the fic that will be featuring her. If this doesn’t sate you, you can check out the little moodboard I just posted for another peek at Valera. Don’t forget to like and reblog, and follow me if you want to see more!

Edit (Sept 8, 2024): Will probably be working this fic and character, but enjoy this little preview anyway!

[a-decent-human-being5]

So for like a year I’ve had a notes page titled “C!beeduo thoughts for when I cave and download tumblr” and I finally did so even though I’m not super interested in them anymore it would feel wrong not to post these thoughts (also feel free to ask for clarification if you want because these notes are jumbled as hell)

•

-name a better duo then c!beeduo fans and being touch starved I’ll wait (no c!beeduo themselves don’t count)

-Ranboo forgetting he thought Tubbo ender

C!Ranboo: says something sweet in ender

C!Tubbo: (genuinely touched) hey bossman do you remember teaching me ender

C!Ranboo: (now a little embarrassed) no

-They immediately hug each other so tight and refuse to let go appon c!Ranboo’s revival

-When c!Ranboo looks people in the eyes he gets murderous thoughts because endermen but for c!Tubbo he can look in his eyes because the thoughts are muddled by sweet ones about how much he loves him

-Them calling each other pretty because I know for a fact those two are insecure about their appearance

-nlm c!beeduo: awkward and nervous around each other

snowchester c!beeduo: still awkward and nervous around each other but now they are married and with child

-the fact they can look each other in the eyes means a lot on both sides

-Michael has a British accent

-endear walk Ranboo cares for his family deeply

-ew!Ranboo is also more clingy and overprotective

-they’re extra clingy when c!ranboo gets revived

-c!Ranboo giving c!Tubbo his jacket when he’s cold because the cold barely even effects him anyways (enderman)

-both of them having pink hair or white hair

-c!Tubbo being able to pick

c!Ranboo up but c!Ranboo is convinced he’s going to drop him

-all wholesome and genuinely sweetest nicknames started off as insults

-they are nothing if not both insecure about their relationship

-c!ranboo: so is their a mr _ in your life or

C!tubbo: yeah it’s you

C!ranboo: wait really

-C!ranboo is very much not a morning person

-c!Ranboo calls c!Tubbo and Michael “his favorite boys”

-c!Tubbo can’t call them his favorite boys because c!tommy will throw a fit (also c!Ranboo nonbinary real)

-c!Tubbo and Michael doing the angry face thing me and dad do

-c!Ranboo listening to him rant about red stone and nukes

-c!Tubbo wants to be held c!Ranbbo wants to hold

-c!Ranboo brushing the bangs out of c!Tubbo’s face so he can see his eyes

-c!Tubbo hitting himself to try and stop himself from crying

-they do each other’s hair

-c!tubbo is a communist not because he’s anti exploiting the working class but because he’s pro exploiting rich people

-c!tubbo sneaking up behind c!Ranboo to give him a kiss on the cheek and it always catches c!Ranboo off guard

-c!Ranboo gets to be mostly unlabelled as a treat

Gender: idk

Romantic orientation: idk

Whether or not his relationship with his husband is platonic or romantic: idk

-post marriage pre falling in love c!beeduo >>>>>>

-queer platonic infuses on the queer

-c!tubbo used to joke flirt with c!Ranboo as a way to pretend he was like actually close

-“He claimed to love Ranboo's wealth, for it was far easier than admitting the truth-“ (I think this was a quote from a fic but I don’t remember which one)

-c!beeduo cheesy hallmark movie au

-c!tubbo is just so seasonal

-the idea of taxes never actually mattering to c!beeduo is fine and good but it’s so much more funny if there just stupid and thought that the marriage would genuinely help with the taxes that they don’t pay

-one of them loves to read and the other absolutely despise it but I can’t decide who’s who

-matching explosion scares that they take care of together

-they can’t go to bed angry like physically c!ranboo will count as a hostile mob and c!tubbo “can’t sleep monsters near by”

-ghostboo making his vail darker/more opaque so c!Tubbo doesn’t have to see his dead husbands face

-c!Ranboo’s earnings act as item space

-ghostboo: I thought maybe you could love me like you used to even though I’m different

-c!Tubbo: and she’s smiling at me and I feel nothing I feel empty and I’m scared that

-mermaid (cRanboo) and pirate (cTubbo) au (actually ended up drawing this hell yeah)

-c!Ranboo (or c!Tubbo honestly) and c!Aimsey are just going to be mlm + wlw solidarity I can already tell

-c!Aimsey is Michaels cool uncle I don’t care it’s happening (sorry c!Tommy you’ve been replaced)

-c!Ranboo uses more cute nicknames then c!Tubbo

-c!Ranboo: do you think I’m a good dad

c!Tubbo: I mean you’re no Tubbo underscore beloved but yeah you’re alright

-these repressed bitches who have awful copping mechanism

-c!Tubbo is either the most overdramatic sick person or he completely hides his illness and tries to pretend he’s fine no in between

-c!Aimsey is a human who has an obsession with bunnies and is not a hybrid

-cAimsey, c!Eryan, and c!Tommy fight over who Michael’s favorite uncle figure is

-Michael is an Angel with his dads…every one else is free range

-ghostboo’s veil is optional but he only really where’s it when c!Tubbo Is around

-when they first got married they stayed up all night talking because they’re both a bit afraid to fall asleep

-sometimes c!Ranboo will just forget that they’re married and get super caught off guard by affectionate actions

-are you guys married or just roommates?

C!Tubbo: neither

C!Ranboo: both

-that one meme were it’s like I wonder what I taste like

-You know those people who interpret c!beeduo as platonic and then put a /p on every post even if it’s not even a little romantic I think it would be funny if people who interpreted them as romantic did that too. Like draw a picture of them straight up kissing and then put a /r just to make sure it’s clear

-Ranbob exists which means canonically c!Ranboo has to be revived to not upset the space time continuum

-It’s so important to me that one of the first things that made them “fall for each other” was seeing how good of a dad the other was to Michael

[crazyapplekiss]

Swallow me whole

Grace gasps for breath as she lands hard on the ground, feet scrambling for purchase as she tries desperately to find an opening or a breather or a chance to run away.

Before her Upper three stands proud and tall, his expression smug and mocking as he nonchalantly stands in a crater of his own making, cracked and webbing out like a beautifully drawn snowflake across the earth. He doesn't have a scratch on him with how many times Grace has parried his attacks and cut him with her sword, his skin is still sooth and pristine while she tries to blink the blood out of her eyes and tries to quell the shaking in her legs. Her chest pains her so fiercely she knows that there are a few broken ribs there and her arms and legs burn from exertion.

“Is that the only fight you have to offer me?”he asks looking bored”I don’t know what Kyoujuro saw in you. You're still a weakling”

Grace breathes shallowly, tasting the blood on her teeth. Rising to the bait won't do her any good especially with an opponent like this one. Slayers have been disappearing left and right here, a remote village miles and miles from any towns or proper civilization. Grace felt the loneliness creep up on her in a way she didn’t think she'd feel again, with how little people she saw on her journey here. She was lucky enough to come across another slayer on the way to the same village. The walk was scenic enough that she tried her best to burn the sight into her memory but it was a shame its beauty was marred by so much bloodshed.

The bodies of people lay strewn about the road and buildings without care, battered and torn apart until they were unrecognizable. She never saw so much carnage in her life, considering her line of work, that was saying a whole lot.

Slayers disappear often on the job. Sometimes missions go wrong and lives are lost but so many all at once? In one place no less. Although there was always a possibility, she would have never imagined that an Upper moon would be the cause of something like this.

“I’m surprised how long you lasted”Akaza continues and Grace grips her sword tighter as he takes a step forward “but as much as i'd like to play around with you longer i have a job to complete”

He activates his demon art once again and darts for her in the blink of an eye. Grace only just blocks the hits with her blade, rushing through all her breath styles in an attempt to slow him down even if it's just for a moment. She blocks his foot as it aims for her chest and her arms give under the pressure of his strength and the force sends her flying down the road. She rolls unable to stop herself and skids to a halt coughing from the dust that got kicked up in the air and the blood that slides down her throat.

I have to keep fighting. He won't stop until i'm dead. I have to keep going. She wills herself to forget the fear, she's desperate now, she's exhausted and injured badly, far from any kind of help. Logically to keep fighting is suicide, but she knows he’ll kill her if she tries to run, he's too fast for her anyway and dawn feels like miles away but to sky has a dark blue tint to it that gives her a sign that its near and if she can keep going until dawn maybe she can have a chance. Just maybe.

She pushes herself up forcing herself to forget the pain in her chest and throat, dodging another blow she sprints towards him, rotating her body to build up momentum. She gets close enough to hack at his arm, barely hanging on as it drops like a stone. She feels something snap as his other arm brushes by her neck as she dodges, right over her collarbone. Tears blur her vision as pain erupts across her shoulder all the way down to her fingertips and she struggles to hold her sword with her left hand.

“ ‘This girl isn’t weak’ . It’s a shame really, with how much I can see your battle spirit has grown since then, I thought you'd be a woman worth challenging. I was expecting more from you”Akaza says“Those are some serious wounds you have there. Just give up already. Surrender or die”

“Never”her voice comes out with a rasp”I won’t ever give up no matter how weak you think I am. I won't stop until you atone for all the lives you took”

Grace can’t ever unsee the bodies around her, or the blood splattered on the walls or the unseeing eyes of the slayers she talked to only hours before. All these people had lives, they had families, they had dreams and goals they wanted to achieve and in an instant he took them away. She would ever stop until it killed her. If she couldn’t protect them when they were alive she’d make sure that he wouldn't get a chance to take another soul.

He watches her like a predator watches their prey as she grips her sword tight and takes stance. Her body is aching with pain and fatigue, her right arm can barely grip the sword in her palms. Ah, I might die here, she thinks, watching him deploy his demon technique once again, I might die here and never see my friends again . Her heart aches at the thought of leaving Tanjiro and the gentle kindness he spreads to everyone he meets, Nezuko’s soft touch when she hugs her, Inosuke’s energy that never tires and has her buzzing for hours after sparring and Zenitsu’s care for them. Worrying for their safety and making sure they are never hungry or sad.

She thinks how much grief she’ll cause the butterfly estate girls when they hear that another one of their sisters will be gone. How another grave will sit empty because demons wouldn't even give them a chance to see her one last time before they must leave each other for the last time.

I’m sorry everyone. I’m so sorry I’m leaving you .

She kicks off in a flurry of dust and twists her body with the wind building up speed to land the final blow with her final form. Akaza charges at her with a speed few humans could only ever hope to match and she feels her sword cut through his skin with the last of her strength, only adrenaline driving her forward. It's not enough, she knows when the dust clears and she feels the white hot pain spread through her stomach as his arm passes through and out the otherside. Her legs feel weak and she coughs as blood rises up her throat.

“It’s a shame really such a shame, you’re just like all the other slayers I've met. Fun to toy with but weak toys that are still easy to break”Akaza says but his voice is hazy in her delirium and her vision blurs as tears run rivers down her cheeks”but i’m not done with you yet. Sleep now and show me that it’ll be worth keeping you around. Show me you’re better than the rest of the weak slayers”

Grace chokes as her vision goes dark, unable to feel the arm pulling out of her or the way her legs buckle. The only trace of her left behind is her broken sword and the smell of her blood in the wind.

-  -  -

Grace gasps as her body burns. She convulses and writhes as she feels like every cell in her body has suddenly turned against her. She claws against the floor for something to grab, something to help her through the pain, she hears screaming that she doesn’t quite realize hers bouncing off the walls and it feels like hours that are probably just minutes until her body finally collapses from exhaustion and slips back into unconsciousness.

-  -  -

Grace sits in the bloody room quietly. Her thoughts are hazy and she feels tired in a way that only settles in her bones and soul. Her scars and calluses on her hands and body have healed over, displaying the soft unmarked skin beneath. Her sharp nails brush her middle, over a strange sun and moon pattern that sits in the center, forever reminding her of the phantom pain that she felt as she was dying and the pain of demon blood coursing through her for the first time.

It's a cruel fate she thinks. To almost die the same way Rengoku almost had.

She's completely bare save from the butterfly clips Shinobu had given her. They're bigger than the ones she had before, big enough to hold her thick long hair in place when she gathers them to either side of her head in a cute childish style. Right now she doesn't know if she cares for modesty. Whoever stripped her has already seen everything worth hiding and she doesn’t dwell on the thought of all the horrible things that probably happened to her body while she was asleep. She’s so aware now. She feels the movement of the building, the faint heartbeats of the demons around her, the sharp tingling all over where someone always watches her. The door slams open behind her and she feels the presence before they are seen.

They discard their items on the floor behind her and Grace can feel the vibrations all the way to the tip of her nose.

“I should have killed you for all the trouble you caused me”the voice says. It rumbles with anger and irritation, Grace thinks the feeling is mutual”But Muzan-sama wants his numbers up and he doesn’t care from where”

She doesn’t answer as upper three circles her and stares into her hollow eyes. She cried at the realization of what happened when she woke. The aching in her throat from screaming herself hoarse hasn’t gone yet. The bloodstains on the wall are her leftover attempts of trying to cause her own demise. Demons can’t die by their own hands, she knows, but she'd rather die than be a monster.

The only surprise is when Upper three ruffly wipes the blood away from her with a wet cloth and helps her dress. He doesn’t look at her and she doesn’t say a word. Why bother? she thinks Why treat me so kindly when you tried so hard to rip me to shreds? He leaves her there on the floor and the door slams close. Grace feels the building move again and for a long time she listens to it shift and the thumping of hearts that shouldn’t beat any longer.

Is this how my life ends? She laments to herself Imprisoned and waiting to be ordered around by Muzan the rest of her existence?

Grace grips the fabric of the kimono tight as she fixes her eyes on the blood on the walls and sings a broken version of her mother's sunshine song.

[robininthelabyrinth]

A-Yuan wasn’t the only child among the Wen Remnants, just the youngest.

Children's Day - ao3

Lan Wangji carefully scooped up the boy out of his hiding place, tucked beneath a pile of stones, sick with fever and fast asleep.

It was a good hiding place. If Lan Wangji hadn’t played Inquiry and demanded to know if there were any living beings around in this cursed place of death, he would never have found the small child.

He remembered him – this was little A-Yuan, who Wei Wuxian had taken down into town to play, the one Lan Wangji had bought all those toys for in his confusion, the one who called him rich-gege. Barely more than two years old, having never known anything but war.

He was all that was left, now. There was nothing else left in the battlefield.

No one else left.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes in pain.

I’ll care for him for you, he promised Wei Wuxian’s ghost, wherever it might be now. Now that you cannot.

I’ll take him back to Gusu to raise as my own – wishing you were by my side.

-

-Earlier-

“Sect Leader!” one of his aides cried out when he staggered back into camp. “What – who’s that?”

Jiang Cheng looked down at the girl in his arms. She was – four, maybe? Five? He had no idea.

She looked a bit like Wen Qing.

“I found her hiding in the corner of the battlefield when she made a noise,” he said hoarsely. “The Wen sect remnants…by the time I got there, they were almost all dead already, all her family. She’s – she’s young. It didn’t seem right.”

Wei Wuxian always liked children, he thought vaguely to himself as he looked down at her. It wasn’t so much of a surprise that he would keep one there…in fact, if he thought back to that horrible meeting they’d had that one time he’d come to the Burial Mounds to try to talk to Wei Wuxian, he thought he remembered there being a small child there. This must be her.

She was bigger than he remembered, but that was what happened with small children, wasn’t it?

“Her surname is Wen?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng snapped automatically, and his aide took a step back from his vehemence. “The Wen sect is dead, you understand? All of them. The cultivation world refused to allow them to live, that much is obvious enough. Her surname…”

He looked down at her.

I failed Wei Wuxian, he thought grimly. I won’t fail his legacy.

“Her surname will be Jiang.”

-

-Earlier-

“We found this child hiding in the Demon Subduing Cave,” one of the guards reported, looking nervous. “Lianfeng-zun – what do we do with them?”

Jin Guangyao frowned down at the child, judging the child’s age to be about five or six – maybe seven, considering the likelihood of malnutrition at the Burial Mounds. If they were any younger, he would’ve said that the child ought to just execute them as useless; any older, and he would’ve had no choice but to declare them an enemy combatant, and thereby order them executed.

At this age, though…they were still young enough to be taught to forget their current surname, and to learn new loyalties, and yet old enough to perhaps remember a little of what they had learned, living as they had for a few years with the inventor of demonic cultivation.

Jin Guangyao glanced at the papers in his hands, full of barely legible scribbles, laying out powerful new spells and interesting ideas. They would help Xue Yang with his work – but not as much as a helper would, and naturally they’d just brutally executed all the other ‘helpers’ that might have been available.

Not exactly Jin Guangyao’s personal preference, but he wasn’t the one leading the Jin sect army.

Still, his father, who had been the one leading, had retired to his tent, and now Jin Guangyao was the one with the power, left to be in charge of mopping up. That, in turn, gave him a little more leeway, which meant he could implement his own thoughts, rather than badly thought out instructions.

“Put the child in my tent,” he said, and smiled. “The poor thing must have gotten lost and entered the battlefield – after we arrived. You understand?”

The guard saluted deeply. “Lianfeng-zun is kind and beneficent,” he said, and his expression was worshipful. “I will tell the others that the child is from some distant Jin branch.”

Jin Guangyao hadn’t intended for him to do that, but – well, he couldn’t exactly refute it now, could he, and anyway there were worse things to happen. Everyone would know that he had kindly taken in some orphaned child of war, which would be good for his reputation.

He smiled and nodded, and thought of the future.

-

-Earlier-

“Well, shit,” Nie Mingjue said, staring at the trio of children: nine or ten years old, he thought, maybe a little older, two girls and a boy. They stared back at him, wide-eyed and terrified – they were very clearly trying to sneak off the Burial Mounds down the back way.

Nie Mingjue rubbed his face, glad that he’d insisted on doing the forward scout work before the attack tomorrow morning himself rather than let it go to someone else. He hadn’t wanted to come to this blasted place in the first place, being that he still wasn’t sure exactly what had gone down with Wei Wuxian, who’d been a good man once. But good Nie cultivators had died at Lanling City at Wen Ning’s hands, the Jin sect claiming that that brutal attack was at Wei Wuxian’s instigation, and at the Nightless City at Wei Wuxian’s hands directly, and he didn’t have any evidence to exculpate the man, either; he had no grounds to look the families of those Nie cultivators in the eye and tell them not to pursue vengeance against the man who had slaughtered their brothers and fathers and sons, sisters and mothers and daughters, like they meant nothing.

They deserved vengeance.

Just as he had, for his father.

But at the same time…

“You’re all surnamed Wen, I take it?” he asked, and they slowly nodded. “Dafan Wen?”

Another nod.

“Wrong answer,” he said, making a snap decision. This wasn’t like his father at all, not really; he had wanted to kill Wen Ruohan, who had done the deed himself, while these children clearly hadn’t done anything. “Swear to me here and now that you won’t seek revenge for your sect or family, and you can be surnamed Nie instead.”

They looked at each other.

“Your family didn’t send you to run away because they wanted you to take revenge,” he said. It was a guess, but he could tell from the way their shoulders sagged that he was right. “They wanted you to live. Well?”

They swore.

He took them home.

-

-Earlier-

She tripped and fell flat on her face.

“Hey, girl!”

She looked up, eyes wide with terror – she hadn’t expected to be caught so soon – but the cultivator in front of her didn’t strike her down. He was a young man, just a few years older than her, and he looked nice, kneeling to help her up.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did you get lost?”

Lost? From where would she get lost, exactly?

Despite that, she nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Here isn’t a good place, though – we’re going to have a battle tomorrow…can you tell me where you’re from?” He frowned. “Or – can’t you speak?”

An idea suddenly came to mind, and she shook her head, lifting up her hands to mime signs like the ones she’d seen Lady Wen and her brother use sometimes when they needed to talk without disturbing others.

“Doesn’t talk,” he murmured to himself. “Clothing of white, ripped all to ribbons –”

She’d torn out any trace of the red sun. White was a common color, but she was old enough to know that she couldn’t let anyone know she was surnamed Wen.

“Oh, I’ve read about this before! Are you a bird yao that’s cultivated to humanity?”

What?

She’d been thinking of trying to pass as a traumatized war veteran, but she was only fourteen, after all; it wasn’t very believable. Of course, it was a lot more believable that bird yao – who would leap to that conclusion?

“My surname is Ouyang,” the man said, smiling brightly at her. “You should come back with me – I can teach you to speak, and we can give you a name…how about ‘Luo’ as a surname? That has to do with birds. Or we could surname you Bai, instead, since your clothing is white! Or maybe -”

She smiled helplessly at his nonsense. What a silly, cheerful man! Maybe she’d overestimated his age, he couldn’t be more than two or three years older, at most, and his brain was clearly not in the right place, filled up to the brim with romantic stories and adventure tales instead of facts.

It was a nice change, actually.

She accepted his hand as she stood.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

-

-Earlier-

Lan Wangji had returned home and submitted to a dreadful punishment. The elders he had injured on Wei Wuxian’s behalf were either in treatment or recovering.

As for the rest that had been at the Nightless City…

Many were dead.

Lan Qiren landed in the Burial Mounds, lips pressed tightly together.

He knew he was taking a risk in coming here to Wei Wuxian’s lair – no matter what Lan Wangji thought, whatever good points he’d had in the past, the man was now little better than a mad dog. He’d caused the death of three thousand people just the day before, three thousand innocents that hadn’t had anything to do with anything; why would he hesitate to attack his old teacher?

There was already talk of a siege – Jiang Cheng himself had promised to lead it, to wipe off the stain on the Jiang sect’s record, and the Jin sect had been right behind him. Even Nie Mingjue had been dragged in against his will, suborned by his sect members’ need for vengeance. As for the Lan Sect…Lan Xichen had looked so stricken by the thought that Lan Qiren had volunteered for the grim duty, despite Lan Qiren having never been much of a fighter and even less of a general. He intended to take only the smallest possible contingent, and to limit their work as much as possible to cleansing the dead rather than killing those who remained there – that much, at least, he could do for his nephew.

Either way, though, no matter his powers, Wei Wuxian would not live out the week.

If Lan Qiren desired vengeance, he need only wait.

And yet, here he was.

Alone, practically unarmed – and here nonetheless.

An old woman came out from the cave and squinted at him.

“It’s over,” she said sadly. “Isn’t it?”

Lan Qiren looked at her. One of the Wen remnants that Wei Wuxian had surrounded himself with, he assumed; the ones he’d given up his comfortable life for, claiming he was only acting as a righteous man ought. Perhaps he even had thought he was, back then.

Perhaps he really had been, back then.

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, and cleared his throat. “After what he did at the Nightless City – the verdict is unquestionably death. But the rest of you…there are armies coming, and armies are not known for their leniency, especially not on passerby with the wrong surname. But they’re not here yet. There’s still time to flee – if you go now, you could take on a new surname and find some quiet place to live on.”

Lan Wangji had said they were civilians. Civilian life was to be prioritized above all else.

Lan Qiren was only doing what he must.

Despite his well-meant warnings, however, the old lady shook her head.

“There’s nowhere to go, and we won’t give up our surname,” she said, polite but stubborn to the last. “But thank you for taking the time to come here to tell us.”

“Wangji said that there were children here,” Lan Qiren insisted, ignoring her refusal. “If you won’t flee with them, at least send those that are old enough out on their own, and hide the younger ones. Tell them to forget their surnames – most people won’t rampantly murder children, so there’s a chance they’ll make it through, and live. Can you deny them that, just for pride?”

That gave the old woman pause.

“We’ll do what we can,” she said, and then eyed him. “How good are you at medicine?”

Lan Qiren frowned. “I can’t provide care –”

“She’s already dead. Come help anyway.”

The woman in question was not already dead, but dying – she was in her late teens, seventeen or eighteen at most, and she was in labor. From the glassiness of her eyes, the redness of her cheeks, and the threadiness of her pulse, it was clear that infection had long ago set in. It was not an exaggeration to say she was dead, little better than a corpse.

She was little more than a child.

“I don’t want her to die alone,” the old woman said. “But if you stay with her, I can use the time to try to take care of the rest. You’re not wrong, I suppose – the children, at least, deserve a chance to live on, even if it means leaving our surname behind.”

Lan Qiren looked down at the woman, unconscious already and unlikely to ever wake, and yet still whimpering. “And her child?”

The old woman looked surprised. “Can a child born like this still live?”

Lan Qiren had almost no medical training beyond the most superficial basics that were the necessity for any battlefield or night-hunt, with one sole exception: he had supervised the births of both his nephews by himself with little aid – his brother’s wife hadn’t wanted anyone else to be present, possibly in an attempt to prematurely enter her grave, possibly just out of spite. He had studied very hard in the days leading up to those births, and knew far more on the subject than most men did.

“It’s possible,” he said. “Unlikely, but – possible.”

He hesitated for a long moment.

“I can take the baby,” he finally said. “Pass him off as some war-orphan child of distant Lan cousins, sent to me on account of their deaths. I could raise him, or else give him to my cousin to raise; he’s got a large enough family that no one would question it.”

“Why would you do that?”

Lan Qiren looked at the woman who was dying, little more than a child herself. “Because of the children I can’t help.”

The old woman was quiet for a little while.

“Very well,” she said, and leaned forward to whisper the name the young woman had thought about for her child into his ear. “That works with Lan as a surname, wouldn’t it? That’s not bad.”

“Not bad at all,” Lan Qiren agreed, and rolled up his sleeves, settling down beside the girl. “Not bad at all.”

[husbandohunter]

May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

============================

Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.

[averytiredfanfictionwriter]

Clan (Technoblade x demon!reader, Philza x demon!reader)

Word count- 2,210 Content Warnings- none that I can think of Ao3 link- right here.

My first post back in a while. I’m sorry about the absence to whoever might care- a lot of things popped up in my personal life that stressed me out, on top of my graduation fast approaching. But I’m back now, and this might not be the Karl or Ranboo fic that was promised, it is at least something. Those will both be coming within a week or two, I just need to finish up some stuff and then edit them. So follow if you want to see when I post those, or just reply on this post saying that you want to be tagged when I do post them. Enjoy! Reblogs are appreciated, as well as likes. So if you could just do both, that would mean the world to me!

Techno’s used to being alone. He lived the first hundred years of his life that way- until he met Phil. And then Phil left. And he was alone again. 

But when he met Y/n, that all changed. He never had to worry about being alone again. Immortals are rare, and meeting another one is even rarer, but the two were inseparable. She never disclosed where she was from, or what the tattoos of strange runes on her body meant, and Techno knew better than to pry into matters that didn’t concern him, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about as she stared out the window with her eyes clouded over and memories of a past time playing in her mind.

When Phil came back, it was easy for the pair to fit him back into their lives. Even though Y/n had never met him before it was as if they’d known each other for centuries before then. The three easily settled into a calm daily routine and when they returned to their own houses in the little community they’d created for just them at night, they fell asleep having forgotten what life was like before they’d met. 

The three gods never worried about what would happen when they were found. After all, they’re immortal. They’ve lived to see the rise and fall of countries, rulers, and everything else. Them of all people know that nothing is permanent. But none ever stopped to consider that what they had wasn’t permanent.

It started when Techno woke up in the morning. The arctic always lent itself to freezing mornings but this one felt colder than the others. It could be because he had expected to wake up with Y/n and Phil next to him on the couch, and was surprised that they would go back to their own houses. But it was much more than that- even if Techno couldn’t have known.

Phil and Techno looked in silence for any trace of Y/n around their community when the sun hit the middle of the sky and she still hadn’t shown her face. Any places she might have gone off to in search of quiet or a place to nap. But that didn’t appear to be the case and their search turned up empty and in vain. 

Techno retreated into himself. He found the note she’d left when he and Phil returned from their search and he didn’t say anything, instead heading down to the basement in his small house and shutting himself in to work on ‘very important stuff’ as he told Phil. Phil didn’t believe him-  Techno wasn’t exactly quiet in expressing the emotions he felt about Y/n leaving.

Phil wasn’t quite as emotional as Techno. He was more than two hundred years older than the pink-haired man. He was used to the constant ebbing and flowing of life, of the appearance and then disappearance of people. That’s not to say it didn’t hurt, but he knew that it’s the way of life. People come, and then they go. To stop it would be to disregard the nature of humans as a whole.

He was a little surprised when Techno came back up at the end of the night and, while silent, had refused to acknowledge that she’d even existed there in the first place. He ignored the building next to his where she’d slept and kept her belongings. Whenever Phil tried to bring her up, Techno would shut out the conversation and pretend he hadn’t heard him. It wasn’t healthy, and Phil couldn’t blame him because he was still young but he just wished he wouldn’t be so heartbroken to the point of refusing to acknowledge that she ever existed in the first place.

This went on for months. Almost a whole year had passed and the building that contained Y/n’s belongings went untouched. All the delicate keepsakes from past adventures, photos of strangers that neither of the men dared ask about, and the bookshelves lining almost every wall and so full of books from all over the world- it all gathered dust. Until finally she came back.

Phil almost didn’t recognize her at first. The tired weariness evident in the dark circles under her eyes and the dragging of her footsteps, but everything else was the same. The dark hair on her head now long enough to braid- much to his excitement- and the multitudes of runes covering her body, with the additions of quite a few now. One of the newest things though is the several piercings and jewelry that she’s wearing. The most prominent of which is the chain hanging around her neck, a medium-sized precious stone of unknown origin hanging off of it. 

“Y/n…” Phil said, dropping the wood he held in her arms in favor of running over and embracing her.

She hugs him back, the feeling almost foreign to her now. But now that she’s back, she doesn’t intend on forgetting it again.

“Where’s Techno? I need to talk to you both.” Y/n mumbles into Phils' shoulder, and for a minute he feels the cold flush of fear at the thought of her leaving again.

“He’s inside his house. Here, I’ll take you there.” Phil can’t help but feel like he’s showing around a visitor. The community has changed quite a bit since she’d last been there but the dread-filled feeling that he gets at the thought of her leaving again, coming back to say that she’s leaving and never returning, is more than he could take.

“Techno. Where are you?” Phil calls out as he enters the house and the chill of the room makes him shiver.

“Downstairs.” A gruff voice calls back, followed by a grunt of frustration.

“Well, can you come upstairs real quick? We have a visitor.” The word is bitter on his tongue and the look that flashes quickly across Y/n’s face makes him wish he’d chosen a better wording.

“Fine.” The ladder creaks and then Techno is peeking his head through the hole that leads down the basement.

“Y/n. What are you doing here?” It’s not entirely a question, and Y/n winces at Techno’s harsh tone. “Why are you back now? What, was living out there not as good as you thought it was? Well, you can leave. We don’t want you back here. We’re doing just fine on our own.” 

Y/n feels destroyed. She didn’t expect Techno to react positively to her return, but she didn’t expect this.

“Can I just tell you why I left?” She asks, and Techno snorts.

“Sure. Go ahead. Lay on us this wonderful reason.” Techno’s voice drips with sarcasm.

“There were some people I needed to find- had to find.” She says and Techno laughs.

“Really. That’s your reason. You had to go find some people so you left for ten months. You didn’t even think to tell us in person, instead, you just left a note. Hell, you could have taken us with you. We would have happily gone with you. I would have happily gone with you. I’d have done anything for you. But it appears that the feeling wasn’t mutual, since you barely bothered to leave a half-assed note telling us.” Techno shouts, having climbed fully into the room and stood towering over the girl.

“You don’t understand. This was not a trip you could have made. Neither of you would have been able to!” Y/n shouts back. 

Phil backs away, settling into the couch on the other side of the room. 

“What do you mean, I don’t understand. I understand perfectly. You abandoned us. You abandoned me. Well, you know what, I don’t want you back here. You need to leave. Get your things and leave. Right now.” Techno says and it feels like Y/n was just punched in the gut.

“What? Techno you’re not serious?” Phil’s astonished. Of everything he thought Techno would say to Y/n, this wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah, I am. Now get out.” Philza protests and Techno starts yelling at him as he tries to shove her out of the house.

“My clan was killed! I had to find their bodies!” She shouts out over the two men and Techno stops pushing her.

“Clan?” He asks and Phil stares at her blankly.

“You’re a demon?” He asks and Techno looks back and forth between the two.

“Part demon, yes. My clan was killed and I had to find them. I needed to know who was left. And… I’m now the leader of a clan that doesn’t exist anymore. They were all dead.” Her voice breaks at the end of her sentence, and the sorrow overwhelms her. She’d done a good job on the trip there and back of not crying, of ignoring what happened. But saying it out loud makes it real, and something inside her snaps with those words.

Suddenly the runes tattooed on her and the amount of gold jewelry she’s wearing makes sense to Phil. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Techno pulls her into his arms protectively.

Phil stands from the couch and joins them. The combined warmth of the other two hybrids is almost too much to bear, but Philza hugs them anyways. Y/n’s sobbing continues for a little longer, but soon it turns into muffled sniffles and the shaking of her body calms a little bit.

“It’s up to me now to find a new clan. Custom is that I have to either join one or find others to form one with. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay here. Most of them require you to live with the group.” Y/n whispers as she pulls away from the hug.

“No. I won’t let you leave. Not for a second time.” Techno says stubbornly, and Y/n shakes her head.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do. We’ll be your new clan. Even if you can’t give us the jewelry of your brothers and sisters like tradition dictates, we can still be your clan. Technically your clan doesn’t have to be other demons.” Phil smiles at her. Techno doesn’t know why Phil would know that, but he doesn’t question his knowledge either way. Phil’s lived a long life before he and Y/n came into the picture.

“You guys would do that?” She asks and he nods his head eagerly.

“Of course. We were already really close before- nothing’s going to be changing.”

“Yeah. What do we have to do to join your clan?” Techno asks.

“Well, we basically have to get married to each other. It’s really just an unbreakable promise to stay with each other and protect each other until we die. Soooo… forever. Are you guys sure this is what you want? Because once we do this we can’t go back.” Y/n looks at them in worry.

“Yes. We both want this. You belong here with us. Life was horrible without you here. I had to deal with Phil all alone. The full force of his attention was on me. It was a never-ending nightmare.” Technos voice is dry as he delivers the joke and Y/n laughs as Phil protests.

“Hey. You forget that I was equally as stuck with you. It’s not easy when you live with a piglin who never gets cold and forgets that not everyone is as lucky as him.” Phil says and Techno mimics his words.

“Whatever you say, old man. But Y/n, I’m a hundred percent serious about joining your clan. I never want to let you go again.” Techno says into Y/n’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it was so quiet without you here mate. And cold. So, so cold.” Phil wraps his wings around the two human furnaces and holds them close.

Even though he’s more than two hundred years older than the pair and knows the reality of life- that eventually they’ll get bored of each other or tired and leave- he finds himself wanting to never let go.

“Here, hold out your hands,” Y/n tells them as she pulls out of the hug.

The two men do so without hesitation, and Y/n places a ring in each of their hands. They’re heavy, made of an unknown metal to most who walk the earth and they’re burning hot to the touch as if they were just forged and taken out of the fire.

“But… you’re not supposed to?” Phil says and the woman shakes her head.

“It doesn’t matter if my clan is made of demons or not. I’m still going to give you guys the rings signifying our bonds.” She says and Phil nods.

“Now… who wants to go and slaughter some orphans?” Techno asks, clapping his hands together.

Y/n shouts yes and drops her bag on the ground, running out the door. Techno hangs back a moment, pausing only to look at his reflection in the mirror- at the heavy ring on his tusk. It’s stopped burning and has turned into a comfortable warmth.

“Hey, you good mate?” Phil asks and Techno smiles.

“Never better.” He eyes the half-demon waiting outside in the snow, her tail swishing on the ground behind her. 

“Good. Because now there’s no getting rid of her.” Phil smiles and they join the girl waiting outside, ready for whatever adventures lie ahead.

[heliads]

Deserve You

Based on this request: “Bucky imagine where you're dating but you're not an avenger, so you sometimes feel not good at all for him even though he loves you more than anything. one time he comes from a mission to you waiting in his room, doubting again but he immediately tries getting this thought out of you and gives you his dog tags to prove he's yours forever and it's all cute then? :)”

masterlist

You open your eyes gradually, the last remnants of sleep being dragged away by the brightness of dawn. You allow yourself one final moment of lingering silence before sitting up with a yawn. A brief spurt of panic flashes across you when you realize that you’re alone in your bed, but then you hear a quiet noise from the kitchen and your pulse begins to settle once more. Bucky must have already gotten up, there’s no need to worry.

You keep having moments like this, where you turn to find yourself alone and keep thinking that this is it, that he’s finally left you. Then you mentally chide yourself for thinking that way- every single one of the Avengers that you’ve met on your trips to the old Stark Tower keeps talking about how Bucky’s head over heels for you, so why would he ghost you out of nowhere? You always smile for a second, thinking about your boyfriend, and then the doubt creeps back in and you glance around to find him. Every single time, without fail, those lurking remnants of doubt always worm back into your mind, and sometimes it feels like there’s nothing you can do to get rid of them.

The only available option is to find Bucky and put your mind at ease by knowing that he’s still here. So, you slide your legs out of the still-warm blankets, grimacing at the shock of the cold air, and pad over to the kitchen. Sure enough, Bucky is holding a mug of some hot beverage, maybe coffee or tea, and staring out the window at the city below him. He does this, sometimes, just watches the city like he could do it for hours. You have a feeling that he’s studying the city for any last lingering resemblance to the New York he’d grown up in, when the most pressing news was World War II and he didn’t see himself in Siberia for anything more than a ski trip, if he could put together enough pennies to afford it. However, life has a way of throwing you for a loop, and all of Bucky’s plans for the future evaporated as soon as he plummeted from the train all those years ago.

Bucky turns when he hears you approach. “Good morning.” You smile, joining him by the window. “Good morning yourself. Are you up early for an assignment or because of a nightmare?” Bucky frowns. “The latter. Did I wake you? I thought I was quiet.” You shake your head. “No, I was asleep the whole time. I just knew because you have that same look on your face after you have your nightmares.” Bucky laughs quietly. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the spy who knew everything. Sure you don’t want a job at S.H.I.E.L.D.?” 

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not sure that paying attention to my boyfriend really qualifies me for FBI: Avengers Edition, but I’ll keep it in mind.” You head over to the fridge, starting to pull out some items for breakfast. Bucky leaves within a few minutes, mumbling something about an early morning meeting, and you head to work yourself soon after. Your own workplace is no Avengers Tower, just a typical office building, and you slide into your seat just in time to start the day.

The morning itself is fairly uneventful, and you’re just starting to think that it’s going to be another boring day as usual when you head off to your lunch break. As you’re waiting in line to use the microwave, you hear a pair of women talking at a table near you. You had no intention of eavesdropping, but although their voices are fairly loud your attention was hooked from the beginning when you realize they’re talking about Bucky. More specifically, they’re talking about Bucky’s girlfriend, or lack thereof.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, he had been careful to keep you out of the public eye. When you work as an Avenger for long enough, you learn to keep everyone important to you out of focus, out of danger. If a HYDRA agent got word of the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend, you’d be on a train to Siberia with handcuffs and a blindfold within the hour, a ransom request already placed on your head. That’s if they were patient- if not, they would just shoot you to send a message. By making sure nobody heard about you, Bucky could keep you safe.

The downside of this is times like now, when you have to listen to two of your coworkers discussing how strange it is that a man as attractive as James Barnes would still be single. Obviously, you can’t say anything, and you’re not sure that they’d believe you if you tried, but it’s still slightly uncomfortable to hear the conversation swirling around you even as you have to stay silent. 

One of the women clicks her tongue in confusion. “I mean, isn’t it weird, though? He’s a friend of Tony Stark, there’s no doubt he’d have a shortage of girls who’d be willing to go out to a bar or something on a weekend.” The other woman laughs. “I bet that surplus of girls includes you, right?” The first woman grins cheekily. “I wouldn’t say no if he asked, but even I don’t have a chance. I mean, he’s an Avenger, and one of the hottest ones there. No one here could hold a candle to him. He saves lives on a daily basis and what do we do, sit around all the time? The only woman I could see him with is an agent or maybe Black Widow. At least then he’d be dating someone who’s his equal.”

The words feel like shards of ice threading through your heart, and you turn to go back to your desk, hunger suddenly forgotten. As you stare at your work, though, you find you can’t concentrate. You keep hearing what the women had said, that no one in this miserable office could be worthy of dating the famous Avenger Bucky Barnes. They’re right, aren’t they? Bucky was saving lives all the time while you complained and acted so needy. You sigh to yourself, feeling your spirits dampen by the second. Why did Bucky see in you anyway?

Bucky’s shoulders feel like they’ve been carved from stone. He’s been tense for so long that he’s certain he’ll never be able to move again. Today is the day that he has to begin reviewing case files from his time as a Winter Soldier. He’ll have to come face to face with photo and video evidence of all the wrongs he’s done, of all the killings and blood shed by his own damaged hands. He’s been trying to avoid it for a while, but S.H.I.E.L.D. needs his input on all of the past Winter Soldier missions in order to proceed with the ongoing investigations into the last HYDRA strongholds. Bucky has no choice but to confront his past, he knows that, but it doesn’t make his job any easier.

It’s not like he’s alone, though. Natasha is here, because her experience with the Red Room could prove useful with putting together some pieces of the HYDRA-Siberia-Soviet puzzle that’s been plaguing them for some time now. Steve is also here, one door down, looking at his old medical files that detail exactly how some brilliant scientists turned a scrawny kid with a death wish when it came to standing up to bullies into the strongest man of the century. 

Bucky clenches his jaw, and turns back to the manila file folder in his hand. He flips it open, taking out the diagrams and security camera stills and laying them out onto the table before him as he reads. He’s flipping through the rest of the contents of the folder when he pauses, staring at the images awaiting his acknowledgement. Natasha sees him freeze slightly and glances over to see what’s troubling him. Her brow dips in understanding.

Lying before him are photo after photo of death and destruction. Bucky remembers this day now, after it was buried so long under HYDRA mind wipes and his own crippling want to forget. The bodies of the dead line a small street, buildings reduced to rubble. He can see the dead, so many of them. There aren’t just the few military commanders he was sent to exterminate- no, HYDRA wants no witnesses and so Bucky had killed everyone in sight. There are children in pools of blood, their mothers reaching over them as if to shield them from the inevitable bullets coming their way. He tells himself that their deaths were quick, efficient, maybe even painless, but it is not enough. There is no way to justify this amount of bloodshed.

Natasha puts her hand on his shoulder. The gesture, meant to bring comfort, startles him and it takes all of Bucky’s self-control to not flinch. Bucky swallows hard. “I did all of this. I killed every one of them.” Natasha’s voice is low and quiet. “It wasn’t you. You had no choice in any of this.” Bucky laughs, thought it is heavy with horror and breaks in upon itself. “It’s easier to say that, but it was still my hand pulling the trigger.” He leans back against the wall, trying to steady himself.

“How were you and Steve able to convince anyone to trust me? Why did you even want to save me in the first place?” Natasha stares at the photos, taking in the broken bodies of the dead. “Steve knew the real you, the one who’s standing here right now and would never attempt this sort of carnage. I knew what it was like to lose all control and feel like your hands would always be stained with blood. Second chances are more powerful than you might think.”

Bucky shakes his head slowly. “I don’t deserve that chance. I don’t deserve any of this.” He closes his eyes for just a second as if by blocking out the world he can block out the memory of the methodical shudder of the rifle in his hands, the recoil as he fired again and again. “I don’t deserve Y/N. She-” Natasha cuts him off smoothly. “Y/N knows what you’ve been through, and she knows that you are not that same man. I’ve spoken with her before, and she knows the full extent of what you did.”

Bucky’s eyes cut back to the photographs. “Then why does she stay?” Natasha’s gaze feels like a leaden weight, unflinching and unyielding. “She stays because she loves you. She stays because she knows that the real Bucky Barnes is a hero, someone who is willing and able to move on from their past. Y/N is one of the most important parts of your life, not because she’s a good kisser but because she’s one of the only people who can see straight through you and know that you’re a good man.” 

Bucky nods. “I don’t need you to tell me twice.” Natasha’s right, though, and even the barest mention of Y/N brings back a wave of good memories to fight against the bad. She’s like an anchor, someone holding him in place even when all of the darkness he’s had to endure threatens to pull him under. It astonishes him sometimes that he still wakes up beside her every morning. She’s so perfect, so wonderful. What does Y/N see in him anyway that would make him so lucky to have her with him?

You’re in a despondent mood for the rest of the day. You slump home, not even bothering to turn on the lights but discarding your coat and bag in the dark of the room. The faint light still shining through the windows is all you’ll need. You stare unthinkingly at the apartment for a while, then head to your bedroom. As you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you stop with a sigh, leaning your hands against the dresser underneath.

You stare at yourself, at the dark circles under your eyes. Who are you, anyway? Who are you to think that you would ever be good enough for an Avenger? At this point, it’s only a matter of days before he breaks up with you. No wonder he keeps waking up before you- he’s trying to leave without seeing you that often, as a way to lessen the blow of the eventual goodbye.

The problem about gloomy thoughts is that they tend to wrap around you, pulling you away from everything else. You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the front door open, and you don’t notice Bucky enter the apartment until he knocks softly on the wall of your bedroom as he stands in the open door. You turn around with a flash, plastering on a smile, but your reaction is too late and his brow furrows. “Are you alright?”

You try for a smile, reaching out to kiss him in greeting. “Of course I am. How was your day?” Bucky is not to be deterred. “I saw your face, Y/N. You looked really upset. Is everything okay?” Maybe it’s that velvet tone of his, or the concern laced in his eyes, but your few fragile defenses break down. You turn to him, fighting back tears. “Why are you still with me?” Bucky frowns. “What?” You hold your hands up uselessly. “You’re an Avenger and you’re out there saving lives all the time. Why would you ever be interested in some girl from the city? I’m not half the person you are.”

Bucky stares at you for a second, then wraps his arms around you, drawing you close. “Y/N, love, why would you ever think that?” You look away. “Because it’s true. You should be dating some other superhero of a woman who could be your equal.” Bucky’s frown tinges slightly with anger. “Did you hear about this on some news show? I told that one news outlet that if they said a single thing about me I’d shut them down, and I’ll do it-” You cut him off. “It’s not like that. It’s just- You’re an Avenger, Bucky, and you deserve someone equally as brave as you are.”

Bucky guides you gently over to the bed, and the two of you sit down on the edge. He pulls you into his arms. “I don’t want some superhero. I want you. Y/N, I love you because you’re the only one here who sees me for who I really am, not just some soulless Avenger but a faulty person. Honestly, if anything I’m surprised that you’d still stay with me.” Your tears dry up as you stare at him. “What?” A quiet smile spreads across Bucky’s lips. “Every single day, I come home and you make a difficult day a thousand times better. You know me better than I know myself, and even despite everything I’ve done and the monster I’ve been, you still make me feel like a good man again. You’re one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met, Y/N, and you deserve someone equally as good as you are.”

You shake your head slowly. “That’s not the same. Anyone can be nice.” Bucky cups your cheek in his hand. “Nobody else knows that I always get up in the mornings and pace around because of the nightmares. Nobody else knows that I always stare down the alleyways on the walk home because I keep thinking I’ll see Steve in there getting beat up, or help me pick out jackets based on how easy it will be to remove the left sleeve. You’re the only one for me, doll, and I wouldn’t trade you for a heartbeat.”

He reaches into a pocket. “Here, I’ll prove it.” He takes out something silvery, like stamped metal. With a jolt, you realize they’re his dog tags, the ones he had from fighting in World War II all those years ago. He gestures for you to turn around and you do, feeling the weight of the metal around your throat as he fastens them. When you look back at him, he’s smiling. “See? You can’t get rid of me, love. Not in a million years.” 

You smile, running your fingers over the faded lettering. “Won’t you want them? You know, as a memory of your old life?” Bucky shakes his head, a content expression lingering in his eyes. “I don’t need them to remember. I’ve got you, and you’re the only home I’ll ever need.” When he kisses you again, you can feel the dog tags right over your heart, like a promise that he’ll always be with you, no matter what.

[omiscurls]

Heyhey! I couldn’t find your rules, so idk if this is allowed or not, and if it isn’t feel free to ignore this, but may I request Childe with a reader who has depression? Thank you

tough

a/n: hi!! sorry for that, the rules are added by now, i chose not to describe depression itself, because it looks different on everyone, and you may not relate to what applies to me, but i'm hoping you'll find this enjoyable instead!!

plot: character helping the reader out of a breakdown, or a bad headspace

contains: tartaglia, kaeya

warnings: bad copying mechanisms, low mental place, nothing too serious mentioned

tartaglia

now, he's a man of action less than words, even though he's good with those, too

and to add to that, he's also a very perceptive person - if some negative vibe lingers on you for too long, he'll notice right away

however, relying on his experience, he opts to give you space to figure it out on your own, first, he wouldn't like to be making a huge deal of something that was just a worse couple of days

it's when you don't show up at your usual dinner spot, that he gets a little tingle in his brain, telling him to not dismiss it this time.

and so, he makes his way over to your place.

"ya there?" you hear on the other side of the door, followed by urgent knocking, sort of breaking you out of a trance, but you can't find it in you to go and answer it. he'll go away, you think, even better. your apartment is messy, you're messy, too, and it's not the right time to be receiving visitors. so you stay quiet.

"you do know i know you're in there, right?" he speaks up again "the blinds would be down if you weren't"

come in, you want to shout, and although no voice leaves your throat, soon the door opens anyway.

"hey, what's up, you weren't on the- oh." he stops in his tracks in the middle of the corridor, and you're already mentally prepared to a snarky remark about your sorroundings, but the only thing he says is a lighthearted "why're you sitting on the floor?"

the first thing he thinks about is to level with you, so he plops himself down right beside you, and you bet it looks funny - you in yesterday's clothes, in a big, probably smelly, mess, and then a harbinger in full military outfit right beside you.

"i-" you try to say, but your throat seems too dry and worn out, so you opt for a whisper "look at his place"

he indeed does, hinting the small note of desperation in your voice.

"what about it?"

"it's a mess!" you sigh, covering your face with your hands, out of both embarrassment, and fatigue. you take a big breath before continuing "so i wanted to clean it up, i even brought all the... all the things, but it's so much stuff to do, and i'm tired, and- and i don't know!" you choose to stop as not to snap right then and there. "i can't even do my shitty chores right like an adult" you mumble, massaging your temples.

"and is sitting on the floor helping?" he simply asks, and for a second, you're almost mad at him for not being more... cooey and fuss over you a bit more. he sounds cold.

"what are you-"

"really, is it helping?" he repeats "because from how i see it, every little thing would seem bigger if you looked at it from this angle. come on" he nudges you before standing up, and offering a hand to lift you up. you, however, shake your head.

"i really can't deal with it today, childe, i'm sorry"

"just stand up" he pleas, and the second you take his hand, he helps you up in less than a second. when you're on his level again, he sneaks both his arms on the sides of your waist, and sort of sways around a little, before speaking again. "what if, what if we do it little by little? look, we'll start over there" he puts his hand on top of yours, and lifts your arm to point to the full sink along with his. "and that'd be it for today! and then tomorrow... actually, let's not make plans. we'll just pick something tomorrow, and do it then. does the sink sound like a lot to do?" he asks.

"do you want me to be honest, or do you want me to say no" you mutter, earning the heartiest and brightest laughter you've heard in days from him.

"always honest. but come on, i'll help." he rolls you out of his embrace, causing you to feel a sudden wave of cold, it was comfortable back there, you think.

however, as he works through the dishes with you, the pile does seem to lessen, and doesn't rule over your kitchen anymore. every time he hands you a plate to dry, he smiles as wide as he can, and it doesn't seem to bother him at all when you don't smile back.

"remember" he starts again, after a while of comfortable silence. he looks ridiculous, doing the kitchen duties in an outfit designed mostly to look presentable and slay enemies in it, but the look on his face is dead set. "the first lesson you've gotta learn before going off to battle something, is that the best defense is always, always to fight back. and if you don't think you can manage that, well, that's why nobody ever battles alone. it's common sense to have someone watching your back. and as for you, not only are you a great warrior yourself, but you've also got the best second-in-command willing to help you out. don't forget that."

kaeya

as for him, he's also perceptive and empathic, but the difference between him and tartaglia is that he does believe people have the right to figure some things out on their own, he's a firm believer in the magic of secrets

that's probably because he himself doesn't like to share too much about his deeply personal feelings

so he'd obviously see some wave of difficult emotions coming your way, but would he immediately start worrying? probably not

the guy doesn't have healthy copying mechanisms himself, don't think he expects those of others

every other night the two of you meet up at the tavern, kaeya always ordering wine, you asking the bartender for whatever was in store today, but it's never anything alcoholic.

and just like nearly always, you're seated at angel's share, him noticing you're not particularly in the mood for talking, and choosing to entertain you with as many stories of the day that went by as he can remember.

the waiter interrupts him, asking if your minds are already made up regarding the drink. now, kaeya always has you picking first, but since he sees you're still analyzing the card (as if you expected to find anything new), he goes first with a drink he knows charles makes really strong.

to his surprise, when it comes to you, you just mumble "i'll have the same he had"

before the waiter has a chance of writing that down, kaeya tells him that actually, you're gonna need a minute or two more, and to erase the order you've both put in.

as he walks away, the calvary captain's eyes pierce through yours.

"that's a pretty nasty drink you wanted there" he starts, feeling he can't let you handle your mess this time, preparing to dig a little deeper into what's on your mind.

you shrug your shoulders.

"hey" he speaks up a little firmer, hand moving to cover yours, and even though they twitch as to retreat from his grip, you let it be. "tell me what's up."

"nothing's <up>" you accentuate. "can't i even have a drink now?"

"obviously you can" he nods "as long as i know you're trying it just for the taste, and not for the strong kick it's gonna offer, cause that's a dangerous path that only leads to nasty places." concern shines through his gaze, and an encouraging smile is wandering somewhere in his expression, however his lips are still pressed into a tight line, the same he forms when he's either fighting or arguing.

you stay silent for a good long while, before sighing.

"maybe i want the kick. good, or bad, maybe i want to feel... something."

the sentence sounds all too familiar, as he shakes his head and takes your hand, leading you towards the exit.

"what're you-"

"you're obviously not in the right state to be in a bar, of all places" he states almost coldly "so i'm getting you somewhere safer."

the two of you leave the bar, and walk out into the cold of mondstadt's street, covered in the darkness of the night. you walk past him, not leveling up to him, just tagging along to whatever he's going.

it comes as a surprise, that you're neither headed for your apartment, nor his, nor the knights' headquarters. he's guiding you in an unknown direction, until you reach a dead end.

he clims up a small building, offering you a hand and shaking off your confused expressions and questions. "you'll see" he says. the two of you walk from roof to roof, and countless times you tell him it's ridiculous, but then, he jumps onto the city's wall, helping you out with two hands this time, sitting you down right next to him on the stone surface of the wall. it's a little wet from the night's humidity, and cold, and probably dirty too, but the moon shines right at you, and from this perspective, you see thousands of lights in houses, taverns and shops, from the bottom up to the cathedral.

going up from that, a calm and peaceful lake paints the landscape blue on the left, and even from up here, you see a sea of lampgrasses shining through the leaves of wolvendom forest. if you squint, lights are still on in dawn winery, and the path to liyue and all the other lands swirls around near diluc's house. there's so much you can see, even if the night limits your vision.

"i like to come here when i need to gain some perspective over what is happening in my life right now" kaeya speaks really softly and quietly, bordering on a whisper. "it's a beautiful view, even someone as insensitive to art as i am can see that, but other than that... it's huge. and even though it is, it's also alive. every single one of those beings whose lights are dying out as they slowly go to sleep one by one, they're alive. they're not a scenery, they're their own, individual worlds. and they all coexist with each other in such a clever manner, don't you think? they have their differences, they might even hate each other, or wish the worst upon the other's name, but from up here? they fit together like puzzles of one, big picture."

"that's a nice way to put it, for sure" you whisper, looking down onto your knees. his finger pushes your chin slightly to make you face him, and he smiles at you gently, thumb brushing against the skin of your cheek.

"you know, we each have our own worlds, built from scratch from such fragile materials. we have our worlds rise, shine, and crumble before our sights. we look over the ruins of them and think, this is the end of the world. there's nothing more, it's all dust now. but from up here, you see how many other worlds there are - everyone has their own. not everything that is happening in your world is true. you see it from first person's perspective, and therefore the view might be disturbed by many different aspects. you might not see the picture, you just see the broken puzzle fragment that can't fit with the rest, and you're ready to throw away the entire picture, without finishing it. but being here, it reminds me... the world doesn't end on the ruins you see. you can always ask someone to help you build them up again, and of course, you can expect it to fall into pieces once more, but this time, you'll keep in mind, there're-" he stopped, pointing to the city's lights. "so many people to help you raise it up to the clouds."

"your metaphor is really complex" you chuckle, but his face stays still.

"it's not the end of the world if your puzzle piece is broken. and the ruins are not unfixable if you feel too tired to build them up all by yourself. if anything, that's a start." his hand travels up to keep the hair from getting on your face, since the wind blows pretty hard on this height. "what do you say we start your puzzle once more, toghether?"

-

your friendly reminder that you can request things [here]

[neonlights92]

RUN: CHAPTER VI

Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for.  He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants.  So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly.  And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.

You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook.   So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos.  How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

WARNINGS: Language, some violence and smut

A/N: Final chapter friends!! Hope you enjoy it.  We’ve still got the epilogue to go and then onto Joonie!

When you woke up with a start it was on a cold, stone floor.

Your body felt like it had been run over by a truck.

You could barely see anything - but you could smell burning - and you tasted ash.

Where the fuck were you?

“Hello?”  You tried to move around and realised your hands were held together with what felt like rope, “Is anyone there?” Panic settled in your chest as you realised the situation you were in.  It wasn’t looking hopeful.

Your mind drew back to the car crash - the men who’d pulled you and Namjoon out of the wreck - 

Namjoon.

Your heart felt like it might very well fall out of your ribcage.  Was Namjoon okay?

The last you could remember he’d seemed very much unconscious.  You winced.

Shit.

What the hell was going on?

Before you could try to even begin to answer that question - the door to the room you were in swung open and light flooded your surroundings.  You realised quickly you were in some kind of storage room - and you had been chained to some pipes sticking out of the wall.

“Seems our guest is awake.” Your blood ran cold at the voice.

You’d heard it only once before - but you’d never forget it.

Violetta.

“Y/N was it?”  She took a step towards you and flipped a switch - lighting the room up. 

Your chest tightened at the look on her face.  

Unfiltered anger.

“What are you doing?” Your voice sounded like sandpaper, “What’s going on?”

“Surely you’ve seen enough movies to know what a kidnapping is.”  She smirked - cold and cruel, “Or do I need to talk you through it?”

You coughed then, feeling bile climb up your throat.

“Jungkook will kill you -” “When he finds out.”  She rolled her eyes, coming to crouch in front of you, “Yes.  I’ve heard it all before.” Her eyes flickered across your face.

“Not even beautiful,” She scoffed, “What’s the point?”

You felt something akin to fear shiver down your spine.

“What are you going to do with me?” “Oh.  I’m not going to do anything, darling.  I don’t call the shots here.  I just called in… A tip.”

“Jungkook will kill you.”

She pulled a face then - of mock pity. 

“Oh you poor thing.  You think he cares about you?”  She rose a dark brow, “God.  You really are smitten.” Maybe before - when you were insecure, when you weren’t sure what Jungkook felt for Violetta… You might have let her words move you.  You might have even believed her.

Believed that Jungkook didn’t care about you.  That you were disposable to him - a toy.

But you knew better. 

You’d heard the relief in his voice when you called him.  You remembered the things he had said - how he wanted to protect you and keep you safe.

Namjoon was right.  Jungkook was a dickhead, but he cared about you.

“Anyway.  I can’t tell you what they’re going to do,” She shrugged carelessly, “You weren’t the real target.  Namjoon was.  What a blessing you were with him though.”

Her eyes narrowed and you noticed for the first time how cold they were… Lifeless almost.

“Why would you call in a tip about Namjoon?  What has he ever done to you?” “I just needed to get Jungkook’s attention.  Thought this might work,”  She flipped her hair across her pale shoulders, and stood, “He’ll definitely know I had something to do with it.” Your mind was racing - was Namjoon alright?  You were hit with sickening dread as you considered the possibility that your friend might be hurt… Or worse, dead.

“What have you done with him?” You asked, throat dry, “You know Jungkook will never forgive you if something happens to him.” She shrugged and inspected the bed of her nails, as though you were boring her.

“I don’t much care for what he thinks about me now,” She licked her teeth and shot you a cold glare, “I just wanted to hurt him back in kind.”

And without another word, she stalked away from you - hovering in the doorway for a moment before turning back to give you something like a smile.

“I know you think you love him,” She said to you - voice cutting straight through your core, “But he’ll never love anymore more than himself.” She looked almost like she felt sorry for you.

“I hope you know that.” And then she slammed the door shut, and you were left alone.

It was hours before anyone came back to see you.  First it was a guard with some food and water.  He was stoic and unresponsive as you asked time and time again who he worked for - what they wanted from you.

You had been crying for hours by the time Namjoon was thrown in beside you.  He crumpled on the floor in agony, and you noticed immediately how much he was building.

The man who had pushed him stood snarling in the doorway and you felt your heart freeze in your chest at the condition your friend was in.  You couldn’t even help him - chained to the pipe as you were - and so all you could do was watch helplessly as he writhed in pain.

“Simmer in your wounds for a little while,” The guard grunted, “Let’s see if you feel like talking when the pain sets in.” His eyes flickered to yours and you felt sick from what you saw in them.  Pure hatred.

The door slammed shut and you were alone with Namjoon.

He still hadn’t sat up - he was clutching his stomach in pain - and his head was bleeding.  You couldn’t assess how bad the situation was - and you felt bile rise to your throat at the look on your friend’s face.

He looked like he was dying of pain.

“Namjoon!  Namjoon.  Please it’s me, Y/N.  Can you talk?” “Y/N,” He rasped, eyes cracking open as he stared back at you - your heart turned in your chest at the way he was looking at you, “I can’t feel my fingers.”

Your gaze snapped down to his hands and you realised he hadn’t been clutching his stomach - he’d been shielding his fingers.  They were mangled and broken and this time when the bile rose to your throat you couldn’t stop it.

When you were finished throwing up Namjoon smirked tiredly, “That bad huh?” “Joon…”  You were crying now. 

The situation was dire wasn’t it?  Was there any hope you’d come out of this alive - in one piece?

Namjoon had pushed himself up against the wall, cradling his broken hand, and staring mindlessly at the ceiling.

“It’s Byun Baekhyun’s sister.” Your eyes snapped to Namjoon’s.

“What?” “The person who’s doing all this,” He added voice shaking with pain, “It’s Baekhyun’s sister.  She wants retribution for her brother’s death.  For the demise of EXO.  Seems she was able to string together some EXO loyalists and, of course, Violetta.”

“What does she want then?” You asked, watching as Namjoon placed his broken hand on the floor, “Is she going to kill us?” “She wants information.  To take down Bangtan. I suppose she thinks she’ll be able to break me, eventually.”  He shrugged and cringed at the pain, “I don’t know.” “Are you going to be okay?”  You were so concerned - so scared, “Your hand…” “It’s you I’m worried about,” He replied honestly, and his eyes searched your own carefully, “Whatever they do Y/N… Don’t give up anything.  The moment they think they have what they need from you, your dead, okay?” Your heart thundered against your chest.

No, no, no.  You weren’t a warrior.  You couldn’t do this.

Why was this happening to you? You felt dizzy - the world was spinning - would you faint?  Your eyes struggled to focus.

“Y/N.  Listen to me.”  Namjoon’s voice centred you.  You looked up, “I know you can do this okay.  Trust yourself.  Do this for Jungkook.”

The door swung open and the same guard from earlier glared down at you.

“Boss wants to see you, Princess.”  His voice sounded like nails scratching across a chalkboard.  Your  chest tightened, but you fought against the panic.

You couldn’t let him see you were scared.

You set your face like stone as he untied you, eyes moving to meet with Namjoon’s frantically.  He gave you a small smile - a vote of confidence - and you pushed past the fear.

You could do this.

You could do this.

“So you're Jeon’s wife, huh?”  The guard pushed you out into the hallway and grabbed you by the shoulders, “Does he fuck you like he has half of Seoul?” You supposed this was some kind of psychological torture - intended to further break you down.

Why would you stay loyal to a man who treated you like a mistress? But you knew who you married.  You knew whose bed you shared.

And whether he could admit it to himself or not - you knew Jungkook loved you too.

You said nothing.  You set your  jaw.  You locked your eyes on the door at the very end of the long, winding corridor.

You ignored the brush of his beard against the bare skin of your cheek as you walked.

He reeked of beer.

Of course he did.

“I think he even fucked a few EXO girls if I’m honest,” He sounded drunk - slurring, “Rumour has it he’s got a massive cock.  Care to confirm?” You pressed your lips tighter together.  

“Cat got your tongue lovely?”  He chuckled darkly, “Well.  We’ll see how long that lasts.” He opened a door to your left and pushed you inside, and your eyes moved to meet with the glare of a woman sat behind a metal desk.

“Please.  Sit.”

You didn’t have a choice, obviously.  You were forced into the seat roughly, and you winced when the bone of your elbow snapped as the man handling you handcuffed you to the chair.

“Thank you Taeil,” The woman looked up at the guard and smiled briefly, “That will be all.” He bowed and shot you another smirk, before disappearing.  When the door clicked closed, the woman sighed heavily.

“I’m sure Namjoon has told you who I am.”  Her voice was business-like, “But in case he hasn’t.  My name is Sana.” Her eyes cut through you like glass.  You shifted.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You pinched the skin of your thigh - forcing yourself not to give in to the anxiety rushing through your veins.  She couldn’t know how you felt.

“You broke his hand,” Your voice was bolder than you thought it would be, “He’s in so much pain.” “I admit.  Taeil can be a brute.”  Her eyes gave nothing away, “But he won’t die from it.” “He might lose his hand.” “A price we pay to live in a world like this,” She shrugged, “I’m sure you’re aware that Kim Taehyung killed my brother.  He’s the only person  I care about hurting, or killing.  If you help me find him, I’ll let you both go.”

Your ears were roaring, “Bangtan is my family.  What makes you think I would ever dishonour them like that?” “Because you must be sick and tired of being treated like shit,” Sana’s face was like stone - you had to admit a small part of you was impressed.  How did she keep it so well hidden?

“What are you talking about?” “Jungkook.  Your husband.  His infidelities.”

Once upon a time those words would have sent you in a tailspin.  Now you forced yourself to stay calm.

“You won’t get me to betray them,” You answered honestly, “You’re wasting your time.”

She considered you for a moment - eyes raking you carefully, slowly, like she was coming to some kind of a decision.  Afterwards, she clasped her hands in front of her and sighed heavily.

“Remember I tried to be kind.”  She told you, as she stood, making her way to the front door and knocking once, “Taeil.”

The portal opened and Taeil was stood grinning drunkenly, “Yes ma’am?” “She’s all yours.”  Her eyes flicked to yours, once and she shrugged, “I don’t think it will take long.” Taeil’s eyes lit up with glee and you felt your stomach drop with a sickening thud. He was carrying a suitcase.  You knew what that meant.

What kind of horrors suitcases like that, held.

 He stepped inside the room and your anxiety rose once again, feeling like it might overwhelm you.

When the two of you were alone, he made his way towards you and you found your heart rising to your throat.  You were panicking from the look in his eyes.

You’d seen that look before.  Like a predator stalking his prey.

Like he was going to eat you up.

“Stay away from me,” You warned, voice cracking, “My husband will kill you -” He slapped you, once, across the face.  Your chair screeched back from the force of the hit and when you turned to look at him you found your eyes couldn’t focus.

He’d disorientated you.

“God.”  He growled, cracking his knuckles, “I can already tell this is gonna be fun.”

You shook your head, feeling tears come to your eyes as he grabbed you by the hair and yanked your hair backwards.

“Open up princess,” He grunted, shoving his fingers into your mouth and prying your lips open, “I’m just going to take this for good luck, okay?” He tapped your incisor and your eyes widened in horror, as he pulled a wrench out of the leather suitcase he’d brought inside with him.

“No, no please,” You begged, feeling your heart thud angrily against your chest, “Please…” But he didn’t pay you any mind as he placed the tooth between the mouth of the wrench, and twisted, popping out your incisor as pain shot through your entire being.  You felt blood fill your mouth, and your eyes flashed with blinding light.

“Oh god…” You were sobbing as he stepped away, inspecting the incisor, “Oh god…” “Pretty.”  He murmured smiling at you, “Wanna see?”

It would be the last thing he ever said.

Suddenly a thunderous bang resonated throughout the entire building you were in, and what sounded like a rain of bullets came showering down.

You could hear shouting outside - and your heart expanded - was that Bangtan?

The door to the room you were in swung open, and before you could blink, a bullet shot through the air and into the back of Taeil’s head.  Within seconds he was dead, slumping over.

You screamed, your chest tightening like a balloon.  God, god, god.  Were you going to be next.  You struggled against your restraints before your eyes met the woman standing in the doorway.

It was Park Jimin’s wife.

Switchblade.

She rushed towards you quickly, her eyes worried as she evaluated your condition.

“Are you okay Y/N?”  She asked quickly, rooting around Taeil’s dead body for the keys to the handcuffs that were keeping you from being able to run, “God.  He’s sick.” “It looks worse than it is,” You told her, spitting out more blood as it trickled down the side of your mouth, “Just get me out of here.”

She finally found the keys, and fiddled around with the lock, eventually freeing you.

“Can you walk on your own?” “Yes.”  You stood quickly, eyes meeting her own, “What about Namjoon?” “Hoseok’s gone to get him,” She grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the door, “He’s going to fine.  C’mon.  We have got to get out of here.”

The corridor was filled with chaos, and you felt your chest tighten.  Members of Bangtan threw open doors, pulling out their adversaries and throwing them to the ground.

“Ignore it,” Switchblade told you sternly, “Follow me.  And you’ll be fine.” You tried to listen to her.

Tried to ignore the cries of pain - the way members of EXO begged for their lives - the way only moments ago that had been you.

You watched the back of Switchblade’s head, followed her down the winding hallway.

You had to get out.  You had to get out.

Someone to her left tried to knock the gun out of her hand, and Switchblade reacted in less than half a second - bullet through his ears.

Your chest tightened.  You felt sick.  You felt euphoric.

You were going to live, weren’t you?

Just as you reached the end of the hallway - just as Switchblade turned to give you a triumphant smile - somebody stood right in front of you both, blocking the way.

Immediately, Switchblade’s body language changed.  She froze.

Because staring back at her was someone you knew she’d known her entire life.

Sana.

And she was pointing a gun at her.

“Switchblade,” Her voice was so calm, it scared you, “Nice to see you again.  It’s been a while hasn’t it?” The polite tone in her voice belied the anger she felt.  You could see the fire in her eyes.

“I suppose you’ll want to kill me now.”  Switchblade answered coldly, “For Baekhyun’s honour?” “How could you betray EXO like that?”  Sana seemed genuinely hurt for a moment - it flickered across her face - before it was replaced with that same look of cold contempt, “I thought you loved my brother.” “I did.”  Switchblade’s fingers flexed as she pointed her own gun back at her old friend, “But they left me no choice.”

“As you’ve left me no choice.  I hope you understand why I orchestrated all of this.” Switchblade nodded once, sharply, “I understand, Sana.”

“So?”  She cocked her head to the side, “We’re at a deadlock.  Neither of us can shoot.” You heard the regret in Switchblade’s voice, “You always did underestimate me, Sana.  Not just you.  But all of you.  EXO.” And in the blink of an eye, Switchblade had slashed a knife she’d kept hidden behind her back across Sana’s throat.  She was dead before her body reached the ground.

You worried you might vomit again.

“C’mon.”  She turned to you - a look of regret on her face, “It’s over now.” As the front door swung open and sunlight flooded your eyes, you felt like you might very well break down in tears.

Switchblade led you over to the white van that she assured you would take you back home to Jungkook.  Jimin sat behind the driver’s wheel, with Jin in the passenger seat.

You and Switchblade took the backseats.

“He loves you, y’know.”  She told you as she climbed in beside you, “Jungkook I mean.  We all see it.” There was a long moment of silence.  You leaned your head back against the headrest and sighed heavily. 

Then you finally admitted what you’d always hoped, always wanted.  Always dreamed.

Your eyes met her and you nodded.

“Yeah,” You whispered, “I know.”

And then finally, you gave in and fell asleep.

//

You woke up hours later, in darkness.

Your throat was closed tight as your hands clutched for something - anything that might anchor you.

Where were you?  Where were you? Sana’s dead body…

Namjoon’s mangled fingers…

Violetta’s cruel smile….

Taeil’s eyes…

“Oh god, oh god, oh god…” You were sobbing now, body wracking with the force of it, and before you knew it a light had switched on and two warm, strong arms were wrapped around you.

“Y/N.  Oh my sweet baby.  Oh Angel.  I’m so sorry, so sorry…”

You knew that voice.  You recognised that warmth.

As you pulled away, you found yourself staring into the beautiful eyes of your husband, Jungkook.  He relaxed his hold on you but kept one arm around you, pushing hair away from your face and kissing away the tears.

“I’m so sorry Y/N,” You realised suddenly, that he was crying too, “My darling Angel.  I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t know what he was apologising for, but you didn’t care.  Instead you buried yourself further into the warmth of his chest, and breathed in deeply.

It was him.  Jungkook.  You were home.  You were safe.

After a few moments of holding each other, you finally pulled away enough that you could look into his eyes.  He was staring back at you like you might disappear into smoke right in front of him.

“Jungkook…” The word sounded foreign, even to your own ears.

Had it been so long since you’d said it?

“I’m so sorry Y/N.  So sorry.  About everything.” He brought a hand up to cup your cheek and you leaned into his touch.  The smile that graced his lips caught your chest, “God.  When they found Namjoon’s car - Jesus.  I thought I might lose my mind.  Y/N.  My baby.  My sweet, sweet baby.”

He kissed you then, softly, gently, like he was trying to take everything in.  You let him take whatever he wanted from you - you gave him your heart, your soul, your mind freely.

You always had.

“How did you find me?” You asked after he’d pulled away to press kisses against your cheeks - your chin - your eyelids.

“Yoongi.”  He murmured, pushing his forehead against yours and staring into your eyes like he might lose you any moment, “He was tracking Violetta.  We knew she was behind this.”

“Is she…” Jungkook’s eyes hardened, “Yes.  I made sure of it.”

You felt sick again.

She was cruel, awful… But did she deserve death? “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when Switchblade found you,” He ran his hands through your hair, bringing you closer, “But Taehyung wouldn’t let me go.  He said I was too emotionally attached to you.  It was too dangerous.”

You laughed a little, feeling a big, fat tear fall down the dip of your nose, “And are you?” “Am I what, darling?” 

The softness, the affection.. The warmth.  It was overwhelming.  But you took everything he gave you.

“Are you emotionally attached to me?”

He paused for a moment, eyes searching your face fervently.  Looking for something - something you knew he’d already found.

“God Y/N of course I am.  Jesus.  I am so attached - I can’t… I couldn’t go on without you,” He grabbed your face gently and brought your lips to his, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth.  His eyes were closed as he pulled away after a moment.

“Even though I’m missing a tooth?” You made a feeble attempt at a joke, smiling to display the gap where your incisor should’ve been.

You’d meant for it to be funny, but instead Jungkook’s eyes snapped open - dark and angry - like two swirling orbs of obsidian black.

“I wish I could bring him back so I could take out every single one of his teeth.  And then some.”  His eyes softened and he pressed another kiss to your mouth, “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.” You touched your fingers to his lips, and shook your head.

“I know you did your best, Jungkook.”  Your body was flushed with warmth at the way he was holding you, “Please don’t hold yourself accountable for this.”

“But -” “No.  This is the risk we take.  The risk I take as a member of Bangtan.  As your wife,” You pressed your cheek against his naked chest, “And it’s worth it.”

Jungkook squeezed you tighter at your words.

After a moment, you kissed the space in his chest where his heart beat.

“I love you,” You whispered against the skin, running your nose through his soft hair, “I love you so much it consumes me, sometimes.”

He paused.  Then he pulled you away and tears misted his eyes again.

“God.  I don’t deserve it.  Don’t deserve you Angel.”  He kissed you again, “But I love you too.” The words - though you’d known they were true - filled your heart with an indescribable sense of fullness.

“Say it again.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “God.  Love you so much I can’t even think straight sometimes.”  He ran his hand through your hair, “Love you, Angel.  Love you.” The words set fire to your heart.

That night, when you made love, Jungkook told you again and again and again how much he loved you.  How you completed him.  Made him whole.

You returned the sentiments.

And then when you were both spent, lying in bed together, staring at each other in adoration - like two lovesick teenagers - he breathed out a sigh of relief.  Like something he’d been holding in for years.

“I’ve been running for my feelings for you for years, Y/N.”  He told you as he pressed his nose against yours gently, “That’s what Taehyung told me when he said he wanted us to get married.”

Your heart turned, “He did?” Jungkook nodded slowly.

“Was he right?” You whispered, fresh tears coming to the surface.

Jungkook pressed a kiss against your mouth that felt like a vow.  

When his eyes were boring into your own again, he cupped your cheek and stroked your brow.

“Of course he was,” He laughed softly, “ A Capo is always right about these things.” And the truth was…

You couldn’t really argue with that.

//

FIN