#(also also also- i enjoyed drawing injuries. for better or worse i think of 'injuries' whenever i think 'hockey'.

[sdr2lovemail]

Okay okay okay okay hear me out! Your roommate au but Vanessa is y/ns girlfriend and she doesn’t go to work that night. And so here’s y/n coming home with the animatronics and Gregory also y/n is really chaotic and does stupid stuff all the time and gives Vanessa a heart attack

I love Vanessa, grumpy women <3. This one gets a little angsty because I can't help myself. Besides that it's pretty silly.

This is like where Vanessa isn't related to Vanny or Afton in any way. She's just Vanessa.

I hope you enjoy!

There’s a healthy amount of brain cells between Vanessa and her partner but they all belong to Vanessa

“So…What do we do now?”

“That is a great question, Gregory.”

You, Gregory, and a group of animatronics stand outside the burning building of Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex. Though you were all a good distance away, the heat of the raging fire still ran warm on your skin. Everyone was beat down, tired, and broken. Even Moon, who clutched the scorched children’s drawings close to their chest. Your uniform was covered in soot and you were sure there was a metal rod going through your arm, but you didn’t dare look.

“Tech–nician, couldn’t- we…justleave- in your ca-r.” Monty garbles from Chica’s shoulder. His voice box suffered damage from the fall and heavy amounts of smoke.

You thought about that for a moment. Did you drive here today? No, you didn’t. You specifically remember your girlfriend telling you to not do anything stupid while she wasn’t there. “Nah, I was dropped off today. Besides, you guys are too big to fit in a car.” Your gaze shifts over to the Fazbear Entertainment moving trucks. “But you could fit into a truck.” If you were quick, you could set it up before the fire reached the loading dock.

“Superstar? Where are you going? That is dangerous!” Freddy was just about to set Gregory down and chase after you.

“It’s okay, Freddy. I can hotwire a truck in no time flat! Just trust me.” Freddy let out a robotic sigh. You were determined as always, always ready to help someone in need- did you say hotwire?!

True to your word, you were able to get the truck up and running. It was a great distraction from the searing pain in your arm. You load the animatronics in the back and buckle Gregory up in the front with you. Would Vanessa mind you bringing them home? Nah! You were sure it would be okay! Vanessa loves them!

Through the small window connecting the front and the back, Roxanne speaks up. “Hey…Where are we even going? I don’t think many places would just accept us walking around.”

“Oh! Don’t worry about that guys. I’m bringing you home with me. I’m sure my girlfriend won’t mind, she’s pretty chill.” The rest of the ride was silent. Most of you are still processing the night or mildly bleeding out.

You pull up into the front of your house. It’s not amazing but it’s perfect for you and your girlfriend. And now it’ll be better with your 7 new roommates! Even better that you were trying to butter your girlfriend up about getting a kid, and look you just found one!

Unloading the animatronics and bringing them inside was easy. Figuring out what to do next was the hard part. You hear shuffling in your bedroom. Your dear lover must’ve heard you return home.

“Okay you guys, now I said my girlfriend was pretty chill, but something like this might come as a surprise. So, give me a few minutes to ease Vanessa into it.”

There’s a strained sound of confusion from Chica and a ‘wait’ from Monty. “Vanessssssa- likethe…night guard-”

“Be right back!” You disregard the confusion from the animatronics to turn down the hall. Instantly brightening up upon seeing Vanessa. “My baby! Aw, why are you up? Did I wake you?”

Vanessa, clad in her pajamas, lets out a yawn. “You’re home from work pretty early, babe.” She takes a minute to wipe the sleep from her eyes. “Did something…happen…?”

You look worse than you feel. With the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, it’s easy to ignore your multiple injuries. Vanessa’s heart sank. She leaves you for a night and you’re on the brink of death!

“[Name]?! What…What happened?! Why are you covered in soot and blood?” Her eyes travel to your arm. “Your arm!? What happened while you were at work?!”

“Funny story! Good news is we won’t have to stay up late to go to work! Because it’s burning to the ground as we speak.”

The blonde was exasperated. She steps closer to look at the damage without hurting you. “What do you mean ‘burning’?! Why are you being so nonchalant about this? You look like death!”

Before you could respond two voices could be heard from your living room.

“Sun. It is not nice to go through people’s belongings.”

“But Freddy! I’ve never been out of the daycare before! Everything is so new new new!”

Vanessa’s eyes grow wide as she looks at you. “No…You didn’t..” Easing past you, she turns the corner and is faced with 5 robots from her job and a kid. Oh god! Whose kid was this and why was he injured too?

“Officer Vanessa! Good, well, morning I believe.”

All Vanessa could do was pinch her nose bridge before turning to you. “Listen, I’m gonna patch you and this kid up. While I do that, you’re going to tell me what happened at work!”

“You call this chill, techie?”

“Oh my god…Shut up Roxanne!”

“Aw come on, honey. Don’t yell at her, she's having a hard night.”

Vanessa gazes at you. You’re unbelievable right now! “She’s having a hard night…She’s?! Having a hard night?! It’s 3 in the morning and you’re here with a metal rod in you! And you want to say she’s having a hard night?!” She sets her hands on your shoulders but is quick to back up once you hiss in pain. “...Why are you acting like this? Like nothing is wrong when you’re clearly hurting.” Her voice cracks.

With a shaky, pained hand, you cup her cheek. “Vanessa, sweetie, I’m sorry. I thought if I acted like everything was okay you wouldn’t worry as much. I didn’t want you to freak out.”

“Of course I’m going to worry. I love you.” Vanessa gently sets her hand against your own.

“Aw, how sweet!” Oh yeah, there were a bunch of animatronics and a little boy here.

Vanessa quickly pulls away. “Wow, forgot you guys were here. Anyway you,” She points in your direction. “Go to the bathroom, I'll be there in a minute.” She watched you walk away before turning back to the group. “Okay, it’s the middle of the night and I’m not in the mood for games. Little boy-”

“My name is Gregory.”

“I don’t care, Gregory. I’m going to go patch up my partner and then I’ll be back for you. The rest of you…” Vanessa sighs while rubbing her temples. “Just, don’t break anything.”

Vanessa makes her way to the bathroom to help her partner. You may have a heart where your brain should be, but she still loves you.

#vanessa x reader #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy’s x reader #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #glamrock chica #glamrock freddy #roxanne wolf #montgomery gator #daycare attendant #platonic #fnaf fanfic #fnaf imagines #x reader #roommate breach #romantic #vanessa fnaf #gregory fnaf #self insert

[c-is-for-circinate]

Wait, isn't "anti" stuff more like "anti-pedophilia" and stuff? Like, you have a point about anti-porn attitudes, but from what I've heard just "anti" on its own means against stuff like kid porn and incest porn and legitimately f*cked up sh*t like that.

Okay!  So this, I think, is actually a great example of what I was talking about, and a really useful thing to understand.  (CW rape, child abuse, etc)

Smarter people than me have written much better essays about why policing thoughtcrimes is a bad road to go down, and I will probably reblog some of them next time they cross my dash for more context.  What I want to talk about is the trigger mechanism, the ‘oh, this looks like danger!!!’ immune response in how we look at different kinds of porn, and how that applies to anti culture.

Here’s the thing: I am anti-pedophilia.  I think that, for most people, that’s a stance that largely goes without saying!  Adults who prey on children are bad.  I’m also against incest; relatives who prey on their family members are bad.  Above all I oppose rape.  Sexual predation of any kind is bad.  In fact, I’d say that’s the most important item on the list.  There is plenty of room to argue about where the lines are between ‘adult’ and ‘child’ and how teenagers fit in the middle, and there’s plenty of room to get historical about the lines between ethically terrible incest, distasteful-but-bearable “aristocratic inbreeding” between distant cousins, and the kind of consanguinity that tends to develop in a small town where everyone’s vaguely related to everyone else by now anyway.  The core of the issue is consent, and it has always been consent.  Pedophilia and incest are horrific because they are rape scenarios where the abuser has far more power and their victim far fewer resources to cope, both practically and emotionally; because harm to children is, to us as a culture, worse than harm to adults, for a lot of very valid reasons; and because they constitute betrayal of trust the victim should have been able to put in their abuser as well as rape--but they are all rape scenarios, and that’s why they’re awful. 

These things are bad.  It is good for us to have a social immune response system that recognizes these things when they’re happening and insists we step in.  That is a good thing to develop!  It helps us, as a society.  It can help the people being victimized.  It’s the same reason educators and childcare workers in the US are all mandated reporters, why we do background checks on people working near kids.  These things happen, and they’re terrible, and it’s good that we try to be aware and prepared for them.  (Though obviously studies show we’re a lot less good at protecting the vulnerable than we’d like to pretend we are.)

The question is: why does that same social immune response trigger, and trigger so angrily, in response to fiction?

Anti culture is fundamentally an expression of that social immune response.  Specifically, it’s that social immune response when it is set off by a situation that, while it has some similarities to the very bad real-life crime of sexual predation including pedophilia and incest, is in and of itself harmless.

If you’re instinct is to flare up in anger or dismissiveness because I’m calling these things harmless, I want to ask you to just take a deep breath and bear with me for a bit longer.  What you’re feeling right now is an allergic reaction.

Humans tell and read and listen to stories about “legitimately fucked up shit” all the time.  It’s part of the human condition.  It’s part of how we process those things happening, not just to use, but to other people in the world around us.  It’s part of how we process completely unrelated fucked-up shit, playing with fears and furies and insecurities that we all have, through so may layers of fiction that we don’t even recognize them any more, playing with power dynamics in metaphor and making characters suffer for fun.  Aside from the fact that literally all stories do this to some extent or another; aside from the fact that drawing lines between ‘ok that’s good storytelling’ and ‘that’s too fucked-up to write about’ is arbitrary, subjective, and dangerous in its own right; aside from all of that, these stories are stories.  All of them. 

Even the ones about rape, about incest, about pedophilia.  They’re words on a page.  No real children were harmed, touched, or even glanced at in the making of this work of fiction.  This story, pornographic though it may be, is part of a conversation between consenting adults.  (And if a teenager lies about their age to consent, that is a different problem altogether.)

Stories in and of themselves, no matter what they’re about, are no more dangerous than a crate full of oranges.  Which is to say: utterly harmless, unless all you have to eat is oranges, all day every day, and you find yourself dying slowly of nutrient deficiency--which is why representation matters.  Or unless someone wields one deliberately, violently, as a tool to cause harm, and someone gets acid in their eye--which is the fault of the person holding the orange. And unless you happen to be allergic to citrus.

The key here is this twofold understanding:  First, the thing that hurts you can also have value to others.  Real, legitimate value.  Whether you’ve undergone trauma and certain story elements are straight-up PTSD triggers or you just don’t like orange juice, that story, those tropes, that crate of oranges may be somewhere between icky and fundamentally abhorrent--but we understand that that is still your reaction.  Even if you don’t understand how anybody could ever enjoy it; even if every single person you surround yourself with is as sensitive and disgusted and itchy about this thing that makes your eyes hurt and your throat stop working as you; that doesn’t make it true for everyone.  That doesn’t make oranges poisonous.  No real children were involved in the writing of this story.  It is words on a page.

But, secondly: the thing that has value to others can also hurt you.  Just because a story isn’t inherently poison doesn’t mean it can’t cause you, personally, pain.  That’s what a PTSD trigger is: an allergic reaction, psychological anaphylaxis, a brain that’s trying so hard to protect its own from a threat that isn’t actually present (but was once, and the brain is trained to respond) that it causes far more harm and misery than the trigger itself possibly could.  And no, it’s not just people with PTSD who sometimes get hurt by stories.  There are many, many ways a story can poke the part of your brain that says, this is Bad, I don’t like this, I don’t want to be here.  The story is still, always, every time, pixels on a screen and ink on paper.  The story causes no physical harm.  But it can poke your brain into misery, it can stir up your emotions, it can make you want to cringe and run away.  It can make you want to scream and fight and go after the author who brought this thing into existence.  It can make you hurt.

This is an allergic reaction.  This is your brain and body, your reflexes and instincts, trying to protect you from something that isn’t really happening.  And just like a literal allergic reaction, it can do actual harm to you if it gets set off.  This is real.  The fact that stories can upset you to the point of pain and mental/emotional injury is real, even though it’s coming from your own brain and not the story itself.  There are stories you shouldn’t read.  There are stories I shouldn’t read, regret reading, will never read, because they hurt me.  That doesn’t mean they’re the same stories that would hurt you.  That doesn’t mean they don’t have value.

And, finally:

If getting upset about stories is fundamentally an individual person’s allergic reaction, their brain freaking out and firing off painful survival instincts in the face of a thing that isn’t, in and of itself, a threat?  Then the anti movement is a cultural allergic reaction.

Fandom as a whole has a pretty active immune system, which doesn’t mean we have a good immune system.  We try very hard to be aware of all the viruses and -isms and abuse and manipulation and cruelty, both systematic and individual, that exists around and within our community.  We’re primed and ready to shout about things at all times.  The anti movement is that system, that culture, screaming and shouting and fighting at a harmless thing on a grand scale.  It wants to stop that thing, that scary awful thing that trips all of its well-primed danger sensors, at all costs.  It’ll swell up and block off our airways (our archives) if it has to.  It’ll turn on the body it came from.  It’s scared and protective and trying to fight, and it’s ready to fight and destroy itself.

Luckily, fans and fanfic and fandom and fan culture are a lot bigger and older than they often get credit for, and it’s not like these cultural allergies are anything new.  We could talk about shippers and slashers in the X-Files fandom in the 90s.  We could talk about the birth of fandom in the days of Star Trek.  We could talk about censorship and book burning going back centuries.  We survived that and we’ll survive this, too.

But god, does the anti movement my throat and eyes itch.  Man is it irritating, and sometimes a little suffocating, to realize how many stories just aren’t getting told out of fear of what the antis will say.  And that’s the real danger, I think.  What are we losing that would have so much value to someone?  What are we missing out?

#fandom #anti culture #anti-anti #I guess? #asked and answered #you are not WRONG or BAD or BROKEN if a story hurt you #but neither is the story #Anonymous #anti discourse day

[yesimwriting]

The Needs of Pain (part 2)

A/n since y’all liked part one!!

... i think i could make a part 3?? we’ll see lol 

This is the LONGEST thing i’ve written on here wow,, and the smuttiest 

Warnings: teasing, oral, unprotected sex (pls this is my first time writing full smut be gentle lol)

-- 

Exhaustion is an odd result of pain. I didn’t think I was that tired after the burn. I certainly didn’t feel sleepy while Kirigan cleaned my shoulder and brushed his soft lips and sharp teeth along my neck to distract me from the pain. Why am I even thinking of that? Of the way his breath felt against my skin, the way his tongue soothed any bites he left against my skin. I breathe out flatly. 

Stop thinking of him. Stop thinking of him in that context--that’s why he did it. He enjoys getting under people’s skin, that’s why he’s always insulting the way I see the world. My hand reaches to my neck, touching my skin where I can still feel his lips on my skin, tracing the faint marks I had seen in the bathroom mirror.

I should have asked the healer to get rid of them before they fully formed, but the thought of showing them to anyone was too embarrassing to bear. I force my hand away, dropping it onto my pillow. 

He had acted so strange today, he had been so blunt. It was a tactic. He wants to be in my head and I’m giving him what he wants. I sigh, rolling over and pulling my duvet further up my body. It’s too hot for this. Ugh. I kick the duvet off of my legs, letting my nightgown wrinkle up my body. Strong hands could pull the fabric up in a similar, yet much more euphoric way. 

No. Who’s thoughts are these? The fact that I picture the same hands that dabbed at my burn earlier today has me questioning my sanity. I can’t sleep like this. Kirigan wanted to be in my head and now he is. Damn him. I can’t stand him which means I can never have him.

Desire has nothing to do with tolerance. The thought leaves my face warm and stomach twisted. 

I sit up sharply, sliding out of bed tiredly. I’ll get some air and everything will be fine. The moon will clear my mind.

The Little Palace is strangely twisting at night, all long shadows and yellow lantern light. I slip out of my room quickly, but my thoughts are not immediately banished with the change of scenery. I must be ill. Infection must have set in regardless of my efforts and the healer sealed it beneath my skin and now it’s impacting me. Fever. I’m delusional with fever. 

“I didn’t take you the kind for a late night trist.” 

His voice leaves the hairs on the back of my neck standing like soldiers at attention. I manifested him the same way people manifest the devil. “Air.” My defense is childish. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get some air.” 

The sound of even footsteps leaves me frozen in place. “What keeps someone like you awake?” It’s like he can read through me. “Thoughts of me?” 

He can never know. “Obviously.” 

My sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, he lets out an almost humored breath. “Or perhaps it’s pain.” 

The comment is so confusing I almost don’t realize he’s bringing up my shoulder injury. How had I let him see me so vulnerable? Why did he seem somewhat concerned in his own way? 

“My shoulder’s perfectly fine.” Good. A normal direction for this conversation to head. “It took the Healer all of two minutes.” 

The touch on my shoulder is so sudden I almost jump. Kirigan doesn’t shy away at that, fingers firmly brushing down the skin. “It feels the same.” 

I could scream. His strange observation means nothing to me, but the implication is enough to drive me mad. The implication that he knows my skin well enough to be able to judge whether the healed skin feels different is sickening. I’m tired of this. 

I turn on my heels, all of my tiredness and irritation twisting in me. “Even if it didn’t, it’s none of your concern.” 

“I didn’t realize you were extra irritable when you’re tired.”

Every conversation with him leaves me feeling petulant. “I’m not tired.” I cross my arms, keep my expression set. “I just--I wanted to get some air.” 

“Hm.” He takes a step forward, preparing to close the small distance I’d managed to create between us. “And why is that?” 

The question leaves me irritated in an odd way. A flat way. There’s a narcissistic entitlement in that question. An entitlement to my thoughts. I shrug. “I hoped it’d make me tired.” 

Kirigan draws his eyebrows together, curiosity and something resembling amusement playing at his expression. “If you’d like to be tired, I think I know a few ways to be of assistance.”

A faint, aggravating warmth comes to my face. Not only did my lie earn me a ridiculous innuendo, it’s also trapped me in a corner I cannot escape. Healing from the burn had left me pathetically drowsy. There’s no way he can’t see through me, a tired haze has to be visible on my face. My eyelids feel weighted and I’m too distracted by my deep longing for sleep to hold onto irritation. 

“I’m sure I’ll manage on my own.” The words are not meant to be a challenge, just a way to dismiss him. I don’t think he takes them that way. 

He draws his eyebrows together, eyes threatening to lose that curious quality. Kirigan steps forward, I step back blankly, desperate to keep enough distance to keep what’s left of my wits about me. He ignores my reaction, taking another step forward. I take another step back. My back touches the wall. I am a mouse and he’s an excited cat. 

“You don’t have to,” his voice is too low, too intimate, “I’m not sure that’s something you want to understand.” 

My chin raises just slightly, a silent protest. “Dependency is a fatal flaw.” 

“So is desire,” his reply is much too quick. “Desire is worse, because one can resist dependency based on pride...but desire, that is something that one sacrifices for.” 

Maybe if I was less tired I’d bother to interpret his words a little more. But all I can focus on is his tone--the quality of it. “You sound heavy.” My voice is as light as the night breeze I was craving moments ago. “But you always sound heavy.” It’s the wistful observation of someone slowly disappearing. “At least you’re pretty,” I muse, falling more and more distant by the second.

Something soft breaks across his features, his lips quirking. “Pretty?” 

I rest my back against the wall comfortably, eyes shutting without permission. “I’m sure I’ll regret that comment in a moment.” 

He stays silent, but his presence does not disappear. I can’t tell if I’m glad for it. The warm touch on my shoulder startles me out of my drowsy trance. Panic has me ready to jump off the wall, but Kirigan brushes his thumb up and down my shoulder. His touch sets any skin that comes in contact with him aflame. I shouldn’t find the gesture so comforting. My eyes flutter shut again, my body relaxing against the wall. When my protest dies out before it begins, Kirigan shifts closer. I’m confused, but too at peace to answer. Something velvety and warm brushes against my collar. Soft and warm and electric. He’s kissing my skin again. 

My lips part in hopes of arguing, but when his teeth graze the skin he already marked earlier I’m gone. My eyes shut again, but this time it’s different. Pleasure and drowsiness clear me of all inhibitions as his touch becomes more and more assured. I let him test me, his mouth moving against any and all exposed skin. I don’t even stop him when I feel his hands graze the hem of my nightgown, wrinkling it the way I imagined earlier. 

“Kirigan.” I need to find my strength, but what’s the point of strength when his touch leaves me so warm? The only acknowledgement of my protest he offers me is the lingering squeeze of my thigh before his long fingers begin to graze towards the inside of my thighs. I have no choice but to let his lips brush up my neck, his teeth grazing my skin the way they did earlier today. “Kirigan.” I try to sound firmer, but he destroys the rest of my sentence before I have the chance to get it out. His teeth nip the base of my neck, ruining my protest for a second time.

 Maybe if I was less tired I’d be able to fight him off a little better, but I’m so drowsy I had trouble thinking before he started touching me. My eyes shut in both bliss and exhaustion. His thumb presses into my hip. Something in me stalls as his fingers brush the hem of my underwear--testing me, challenging me. I open my eyes on instinct, but he remains unbothered, slipping his thumb beneath the only fabric that divides us in order to better grip my hip.

I stiffen because of how badly I want to melt. This is bad. This is insane. We’re in a hallway in the middle of the night and he’s General Kirigan. Whatever attraction I feel is another tactic to manipulate me. 

“We need to stop.” The command is weak, my voice as dry as my resolve. 

He angles his head in order to regard me a little better. His expression is one of mock confusion as he smirks. Actually smirks. “Stop what?” False innocence drips from his voice as he leans towards me, expression amused as his lips near my own. “I haven’t even started yet.” My eyes widen, something that amuses him. “Y/n?”

I’m left on edge. I’m left wanting. My lips part flatly, but words feel so distant. “Yes?” 

“What happened earlier?” His voice is the kind of sinful that’s meant to coax. Kirigan brushes his thumb across my shoulder, eyes watching mine cautiously. “How did you get burned?” 

I push against the sultry quality of his voice. “I told you--an accident.” 

“Hm.” His eyebrows draw together in a surprisingly soft way. I stare at him freely, but he ignores my gaze, eyes locked on my newly healed skin. Is he truly that concerned? “Whose accident?” 

I swallow once. “My own.” He still isn’t looking at me. “I’m not exactly the most coordinated person, you’ve witnessed my clumsiness yourself.” 

Kirigan is not convinced. Perhaps he will never fully buy my partial lie. His grip on me hardens. Restraint. I may not be able to win against his paranoia, but I might be able to distract him. Cautiously, I move one hand forward, touching the hand that’s on my shoulder. I hesitate. Touching him without prompting almost feels too intimate. I’m being ridiculous. I brush my fingers against the back of his palm, letting my touch trail up his forearm. 

“Y/n.” My name borders on a warning. 

I suppress a smile, playing into my sleepiness as I tilt my head to the side. “Yes?” 

He doesn’t reply, expression tightening as my hand snares around his wrist, pulling it off my shoulder with more care than I thought myself capable of. The intensity of his gaze is enough to burn me. I turn my full attention to his hand. I’d never admit this out loud, but this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about how objectively attractive his hands are. I kiss each of his knuckles slowly, brushing my lips against his skin tentatively. 

To my surprise, he allows my indulgence. I glance at him through my lashes. Kirigan’s eyes are shut, expression bordering on pained. “Kirigan?” 

He opens his eyes but his expression does not ease. His other hand leaves my thigh, grabbing the low collar of my nightgown with such a fierce speed it takes me a second to realize what’s happening. He pulls me away from the wall in a way that borders on violent. 

“I don’t know who you’re protecting, but I guarantee you they’re not worth it.” The words are acidic. He’s seething. “I grow tired of your resistance.” 

If he hadn’t transformed into something so untamed, I might have had enough gall to tell him I grow tired of being toyed with. I say nothing, instead I take in the abrasiveness of his anger, the tension of his grip on the thin fabric that clothes me. I am unflinching in my assessment in the most tired way possible, eyes struggling not to shut and body desperate to rest, but even more desperate for him. His eyes stare into mine, searching for something I am too far gone to offer. He must realize my sleepiness is genuine because he soon drops his gaze, taking his time in analyzing the even rise and fall of my chest as well as the hint of cleavage his grip on my nightgown is exposing. Pure heat finds itself in my face, chest, and worst of all---core. His staring lacks any shame. 

Kirigan parts his lips as if to speak but then instead takes a moment to lick them. The thought of his tongue in relation to lips only makes the burning in me worse. It’s practically an ache. A needy one. 

“I grow weary of your lack of understanding.” 

Understanding? “What is there to understand?” 

His head angles itself to one side but he doesn’t meet my gaze. The hold he has on me loosens just enough so that his hold on me is no longer taut. That should not disappoint me the way it does. I wait patiently, ignoring the bundle of unexplained nerves in my stomach as best as I can. Something strange colors his features when he finally looks at me again, something almost vulnerable. 

“I brought you here.” He sounds farther from me than ever. “I…” His exhale is gentle, but his expression is quick to harden. “Who are you so willing to protect?”

I must be really tired because his voice sounds like it borders on heart ache. If I didn’t fear Arthur’s safety I’d tell Kirigan everything if it meant his pain would dissipate. I never thought Kirigan’s potential pain would bother me, but now that I’ve seen him look stricken by something so weighted--now that I’ve seen the way he wears pain--I don’t want to be the one to give him that. I want to be the one to give him some kind of sanctuary. The thought leaves me with a desire to flea. 

“Will you just believe me when I say it’s no one?” In a way that’s the truth. Arthur is not particularly significant unless you’re a young Grisha female with a desire for heart ache. “No one worth mentioning at least.” 

He’s quick to retighten his hold on my nightgown, leaving the fabric taut and more of me exposed. “You being desperate to protect them makes them worth interest.” A different response than I expected. 

My lips thin. “Only because it was a small accident. They don’t deserve to be punished over the briefest loss of focus.” 

I take his silence as an indicator that he is considering my words. His free hand finds my shoulder as he pulls me even closer to him by the fabric he’s gripping. “And if I were to revoke the threat of punishment?” His voice is the definition of temptation, low and promising and coddling me with its sinfulness. I still as Kirigan leans forward so that his lips are practically on my ear. “Then would you tell me? If I released you from the binds of your nobility?” My lips part but I have no words prepared. Before I can think of what to say, his lips graze the side of my jaw before his teeth nip at the end of my ear. “Tell me just to humor me.” 

The command doesn’t make sense to me, but from his lips it feels important. “You won’t hurt them for what happened?” 

His voice seems rougher than before, “Would that make a difference?” 

“It would make all the difference.” I don’t like the honesty of my words. 

Kirigan allows one hand to trail down my waist--a gesture I consider obscenely intimate when paired with the soft brush of his lips on my collar. “I already know who.” His voice is a dark hum. “I was always going to know one way or another--but it’s good to know you would have told me.”

My stomach lurches, dread pouring into me like tar. Before fear can force me to take action, Kirigan begins to leave open mouth kisses from the top of my jaw to the bottom of my neck, taking his time to assault any spot of skin with his tongue that he wants. This reminds me too much of earlier--touches meant to distract from pain with the use of pleasure. 

“Are you--” His mouth is now on my collar, threatening to destroy my question. “Are you going to hurt him?”

At that Kirigan straightens. The sudden lack of contact leaves me cold. I shouldn't be thinking of him. Of his touch. “I’m curious,” he draws out each syllable, delighting in my nerves, “Would you bear his punishment?” 

I’m not sure. I hate that. I haven’t known Arthur for that long, and while he’s kind, he also seems to see all women as replaceable. That isn’t reason for him to endure Kirigan’s punishment but I don’t know him well enough to just blindly agree to that. I loathe myself for not being noble enough to take Arthur’s punishment instantly. 

“What kind of punishment?” 

Kirigan’s expression twists into a greedy smile. He pushes me back easily, pressing me into the wall with more confidence than ever. I’m silent in my confusion until he presses himself against me and I feel something hard and bulging press into where I’m neediest. I stifle a gasp of surprise and something similar to pleasure. “I’m sure I could think of something for you.” I’d care more about my confusion if hot need wasn’t flooding my thoughts and my body with undeniable desperation. “I haven’t even spoken to him.” I exhale, untrusting relief desperate to escape me. Kirigan is quick to lean forward, lips brushing my ear as he prepares to whisper. “I’m more likely to harm him because he has your favor than anything else.”

Warmth burns my face. “He doesn’t--he’s not exactly the one that holds my favor.”

The heat of his breath adds to my burning as he presses his bulge into my core again. “And who does?” 

I’m not sure what he considers favor, but if it has anything to do with wanting he wins. But he can never know that. “There are some contenders, but no one yet.” 

His hand moves off my hip and nears my throat. “Would it be too bold to assume I’m on the short list?”

He’s two steps away from taking me in an open hallway, I doubt he finds much bold. “Do you want to be?” 

Kirigan’s hand tightens on my throat. “I’ve made it clear from the beginning what I want.” His words are lethal and each syllable has him restricting my airflow a little more. Something in me must be broken because my neediness only worsens. “I brought you here because I see all that you could be. Forget being a Saint, we could be gods.” The sentiment is so raw it’s almost harder to bear than his tight grip on my neck. He leans close again, his scent only adding to my budding lightheadedness. “Say the word, and I could have you praising me like I’m already a god.” My stomach knots in both nerves and insatiable hunger. “Though I’m the one that would be doing the worshipping.” 

My resolve is shattered, leaving me broken and twisting. He releases his hold on my neck in order to move his hand beneath my chin. There is nothing gentle about the way he jerks my head forward, forcing me to look into his eyes. Something about the look he gives me has me melting. His eyes are searching for something in me.

He must find whatever he’s looking for because I feel his touch against my heat, fingers pressing against fabric. I bite my lip on instinct, suppressing the sound of my undoing. Kirigan’s eyes never leave mine as the hand on my chin moves to brush against my bottom lip. 

“I can only give you what you want if you tell me what that is.” 

He exhales slowly, pressing his thumb against my lip downwards. My mouth parts on instinct, something that he takes well. His thumb enters my mouth slowly, taking in my reaction as I taste his skin on my tongue. Kirigan pulls his thumb away from my tongue slowly, a thin string of saliva connecting him to my mouth. With one swift tug, his free hand pulls the only fabric separating him from where I want him most down my thighs. His expression reveals nothing as his thumb, still wet with my saliva, is pressed against my core. His touch teases my clit, just barely brushing where I need him most. The whine that escapes me is so desperate I’m ashamed I can’t help it. 

“So wet already,” his appraisal is gentle, the praise whispered against my throat as his lips brush against my neck. “So wet, so needy that you’d let me take you in this hallway and I’ve hardly touched you.” His finger presses further into me. I let out another pathetic breath. “A pity, someone like you--so painfully under cared for.” I’m reduced to nothing by his words and touch. “What I’d give to undue you here, against the wall--I’d have you crying so loudly everyone would know that I’ve claimed you, that I’ve made you mine.” Before I can reflect on his words, he steps back, pulling my underwear back up as quickly as he yanked it down. 

I let out an instinctual whine. My hand moves to his arm, grabbing him like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. “What--” 

Kirigan squeezes my hand, a predator’s smile on his lips. “I want to feel all of you,” his hand squeezes my hip, “I can’t exactly do that against a wall, dove of mine,” he leans forward, lips brushing against my jaw in a way that leaves me chilled and melting at the same time, “At least not the first time.” 

His whisper forces my breathing to hitch, a fact that he notices with an amused look as his thumb brushes against my collar. Kirigan pulls me away from the wall easily. Even the causal touch feels electric against my skin. 

The walk towards my room is tense, his hands never leaving me as if he’s aware of how necessary it is to keep me distracted to ward off my better sense. When we reach my door, Kirigan opens it like it’s his. Entitled. Typical. 

I step into the room, his touch lingering on my arm. A brief shyness pushes itself into my chest. I had let Kirigan touch me in a public space and lead me back to my room. The door closes. I don’t turn. 

Kirigan’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “Shy, now?” His question is teasing, rekindling the fire beneath my skin as he places an open mouth kiss on my neck. He plays with the thin strap of my nightgown, pushing it off my shoulder. He kisses down my neck, collarbone, and shoulder. My inhibitions are melted away again. “When your breathing stalls like that,” his whisper is enough to elicit a desperate shudder, “I am left desperate.” 

He leans forward, mouth trailing down my chest, coming dangerously close to my breasts. The electric current of his touch is all consuming and addicting. I press my back into his chest. His hands are the opposite of shy, touching me everywhere except where I’m most desperate. Kirigan’s hand places itself between my thighs, using his thumb to tease my entrance. I let out a needy sound. And then he retracts his hand, grabbing my shoulders and turning me in one swift motion. 

“Kirigan.” 

His eyes are dark, clouded by something I don’t understand but am too aware that I reciprocate. “Tell me that I have your favor.” His words are taut, bordering on snapping. Kirigan’s grip on me tightens hard enough to bruise, an assertive need taking over him. “That you want me.”

Desire, pride, and rationality twist in my stomach, leaving me too distracted to form words. My gaze drops to the ground on instinct, something Kirigan clearly finds unacceptable because he’s quick to grab my chin and force my eyes to meet his. 

I swallow once, courage withering beneath the look in his eyes. It’s as twisted as a spindling shadow, but the look is fierce admirational, appreciation so deep I could drown in it. It scares and consols me all at once. “I want you.” There’s something pained about such powerful emotion. I loathe and am empowered by it all at once. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” The words leave my throat scorching with their sincerity. 

As soon as the words leave me, he’s closing the distance between us, the slightest exhale of tension leaving his lips before they meet mine, prepared to devour me. I reciprocate his actions on instinct alone. There is no hesitation, no space, and yet it is not enough. Not enough and yet I don’t know how to be closer. But Kirigan does. One of his hands cup my cheek, coaxing me towards him as if I could possibly have the will to leave him. He steps forward, guiding me to step back. I obey fluidly until I feel something hit the back of my legs. It’d startle me if I wasn’t so consumed by his touch.

His mouth begins to move away from my skin. I chase after him, desperate to keep him touching me. He stops me by placing a hand on my shoulder, a warning about my neediness. I pout, but as he studies me I pant. Maybe the excuse for air was a good idea. I don’t fight the uneasiness of my breathing as I hold Kirigan’s gaze. He regards me with a patience I consider unbearable, taking in the determined look in his eyes, my swollen lips, disheveled hair, and the top of my night gown that’s half falling off. 

It’s in this moment I realize how much more vulnerable than him I am. 

If Kirigan notices any shift in me, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he adjusts his hand on my cheek, his thumb brushing the hot skin gently. “You are everything.” His voice is cracking glass. “Everything that’s good, at least.” 

Maybe he did notice my initial reaction because I am no longer certain that I am the one that’s most vulnerable. “You’re better than you think.” I only say this because it would only weigh on me more to stay silent. “I see it and you don’t want me to.” 

His hand continues to stroke my cheek. “I want you to see all of me.” The heavy beating of my heart seems to stall in my chest. Kirigan drops his hand before grasping the hem of my nightgown. He pulls the fabric upwards easily, bundling the fabric above my hip. “I want you to…” He exhales flatly, pulling the fabric upwards even more. Nerves flood my stomach as he leans towards me, kissing down my jaw. “To know me,” he whispers against my throat.

I am nothing but uneven breaths as he mouth moves down my chest, stalling only once he’s reached my breasts. He pushes me forward easily, guiding me so that I’m laying on my bed. He’s quick to move over me, kissing up my neck as he adjusts so that I’m against the headboard.

When he pulls away again, I’m left pouting. He grins, fueled by my disappointment. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, fingers hooking around the waistband of my underwear before tugging it down my legs easily, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.” 

Being so exposed has my doubts flooding back, but Kirigan is quick to fight against my instincts in a way only he seems capable of. He squeezes the inside of my upper thigh before leaning down, pressing his mouth onto the skin his fingers just touched. His kisses here are meant to leave me even more desperate, each nip and fleeting pass of his tongue is lazy yet intentional. I am incapable of doing else besides letting out pathetic whines. 

He ignores where I need him most, kissing up my thigh, across my lower stomach, and then down my other thigh. Kirigan continues the pattern across my skin, ignoring any pleas I swallow my pride to give. He is not rushed by my words or cries or the occasional desperate adjustment of my hips. 

Kirigan lifts his head slightly, releasing my inner thigh with an obscene ‘pop’. “Patience.” His fingers trail up my thigh and over my core, teasing my entrance with his lithe fingers. “Unless you’re ready to beg?” 

It’s a challenge, like everything else. The urge to give him my pride to satisfy the electric desire I’m not sure I’m capable of bearing. But then I note his tense hold on my thigh. A sign of restraint, of want. 

“And if I want you to beg for me?” I don’t know where the words come from, but they charge the room with potential. 

Something strange crosses his fingers before his lips tilt upwards in a dark way. “Would you like the strength of that? To have someone like me powerless before you?” My face warms. Kirigan leaves a lingering kiss on my thigh before he moves off the bed. I sigh at the loss of contact, but my tired neediness stalls at the sound of his belt coming undone. “I want to see you on your knees.” I sit up carelessly, desperate to obey him. I’m kneeling in front of him in an instant, taking in his length. The size of it has me gaping. “Open your mouth.” 

I take the order more eagerly than I should, but I make no move to take him. This is just another challenge. I keep my eyes on his as I stick my tongue out before licking the bottom of his member all the way up to his tip. The sound he lets out is pure sin. I lick his tip slowly, each motion of my tongue is strategic as I finally place him in my mouth. I hollow my cheeks, moving up and down slowly. 

The pace is not enough for him, he grips my hair from my scalp as he thrusts into my mouth. The motion is more powerful than I expected and I am left unable to breathe. My slight gag does the opposite of discourage him, he repeats the motion again and again, pushing himself into me until I can feel him in my throat. 

The sounds he lets out are a chorus to me, but it’s not enough. I need more control, I need a way to make him beg. I raise a hand, wrapping it around the base that I cannot fit into my mouth. I stroke him once slowly, making a point as I try to push myself back in order to make him want me more. 

He groans again. I make a point of pushing myself off of him. Precum protrudes his tip. I lick it off of him slowly. I lick up and down his member in the smallest way possible. 

“Y/n,” the restraint in his voice fuels my teasing, “Tease me and you’ll still be overwhelmed by want when the sun rises.” 

A pout tugs at my lips before I open my mouth again, taking Kirigan to my limit. He lets me set the pace of my bobs at first, but then he becomes desperate, holding me in place by the roots of my hair as he moans and thrusts into me without restraint. He ignores my choking as he continues until he throws his head back, letting out a quick praise of my name.

He finishes in my mouth and I swallow all he offers me greedly. I back off my knees slowly, throat burning as his member leaves my mouth. “On the bed.” He’s turned into something insatiable. “Now.” 

I move back to my bed, laying in the same position as before. He takes his time approaching me. When he finally gets to me, he kisses my thighs easily. I let out a small breath before something that’s pure pleasure meets my core. His tongue laps upwards lazily, grazing my clit but not quite touching it.  My hips thrust towards his face, but with hand he holds me down. A coil in my stomach continues to build as he angles himself more purposefully, tongue finally taking care of my clit. My gasps become less and less reasonable as he continues to lap at all that my body has to offer. The coil tightens, I see stars--and then, like cruelty personified, he pulls away. His absence leaves me ready to cry out. 

My desperation only fuels Kirigan as he lines himself with my entrance. Concern twists my stomach as I consider how full my mouth felt when he was in me. I expect some level of warning, but he thrusts into me with no warning. I let out a pathetic cry, but that means nothing to him as he pulls out just to thrust into me with full force again.

“Only I can hurt you,” he demands, thrusting into me as I call out his name. My eyes water at the sensation of such fullness, pleasure and pain combining themselves in a way that leaves me incapable of thought. “Your tears,” he muses, one hand moving to wipe at a tear rolling down my cheek, “Are mine.” 

His thrusts become more and more brutal, less and less even. Each movement of his body in mine leaves me begging for more and less at the same time. He continues until the coil in my stomach tenses to the point of breaking. 

“Kirigan,” I manage, voice far away, “I’m going t--”

“I know,” he offers, “finish with me, dove.” His hand finds my throat, adding the slightest bit of restrained pressure. “And do not hold in your cries.” 

Two more sharp thrusts have us both finishing, calling out for each other as we try to draw out the high of our orgasms together. 

We stay intertwined like that for longer than we should, but then Kirigan stands. I envy his ability to do so. I don’t call for him even though I still don’t want to be alone here. A moment later, I hear him approach. I’m too drowsy to ask what he’s doing as a damp towel is wiped against my forehead and inner thighs. 

When he’s finished cleaning me, some raw emotion settles in my chest. “Are you leaving?” 

Kirigan hesitates. “Not if you don’t want me to.” 

I roll over, the motion leaves my body aching. Kirigan accepts my invitation, crawling beneath my sheets and adjusting our bodies so that he can rest his hand on my back. 

--

Tags: @luminous-99 @voyevoda-thejoy @voidmalfoy 

@i-padfootblack-things

 @all-art-is-quite-useless @buckverse @mandowh0re @benbarnes-supremacy

@we-love-our-bandz @fire-in-her-veinz @weirdowithnobeardo @bvudzsoo @kaque @ponyboys-sunsets @coldlilheart @granillx @dreamohlittledreamofme @sanna2020 @zaynzierulez 

@ive-died-everday-waiting-for-you @xxaerynxx @ralesera @tea-effect 

@tranquillitymoon

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone show #shadow and bone imagine #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x you #general kirigan x reader smut #grishaverse #grisha #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x you #the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling smut #the darkling x you #the darkling imagine

[itadorisgf]

Hello! I dont know if your event is already full or not because your last update was a few hours ago. If it still has a slot for one more, may i please request megumi touching you (not in a sexual way, just like platonically / romantically) to get your attention? I think this was from the first promt. Thankyou!

— fushiguro megumi + touching you to get your attention

⤷ anonymous asked: Hello! I don't know if your event is already full or not because your last update was a few hours ago. If it still has a slot for one more, may i please request megumi touching you (not in a sexual way, just like platonically / romantically) to get your attention? I think this was from the first prompt. Thank you!

note: this turned into a whole fic…the part where gumi touches you to grab your attention is rather brief, but i still hope u like this!!

ft. fushiguro megumi

warning: gn!reader, second-year!reader, fluff, blood, pre-relationship so pining!reader

⤷ the flower shop

You are going to kill Gojo-Sensei.

Your mouth flattens into a tight line, brows pinching together to form a deep crease, as your grip on your phone tightens. The bright image pulled up on the screen of your handheld device is the cause for your ire. It’s one of a series of images that Gojo-Sensei has sent to your group chat with your fellow Second-Years of Fushiguro Megumi looking worse for wear. Though the images are all rather blurry, you can clearly make out the injured state Fushiguro’s in: his uniform is dirtied and his face is scraped up with what looks like fresh blood streaming down from his hairline. You’re sure Maki will get a kick of Fushiguro getting his ass handed to him, but you’re more concerned about Fushiguro’s current physical state.

He must not be too severely injured if Gojo-Sensei is texting you Second-Years pictures of Fushiguro all beaten up. This should help alleviate your stress, but it doesn’t. Your gut still churns uncomfortably at the thought, at the image, of Fushiguro injured, seriously or not.

You exit the images to view the chat. You roll your eyes at Gojo’s text message, which accompanies the many pictures he sent of Fushiguro.

Gojo-Sensei: Look who got beat up!!!

As a teacher, he really shouldn’t sound so thrilled at the prospect of his student getting injured, but then again, Gojo-Sensei’s not exactly a respectable teacher in your eyes. Your eyes scan the rest of the messages from your classmates. Given the time difference, you would guess that Yūta is most likely busy with his day right now all the way on the other side of the world, hence his lack of response. You make a mental note to shoot him a text soon and check in on him. You know Yūta well enough to know that he’s probably running himself ragged. Toge’s in the middle of a mission right now, which only leaves Panda and Maki available to reply to Gojo-Sensei’s message.

You were correct in your assumption that Maki would be pleased with the pictures, her text asking if Gojo-Sensei managed to get a video of Fushiguro getting beat up. Panda echoes that sentiment by responding with arrows pointing upward underneath Maki’s text. Your thumbs hover over your keyboard, contemplating if you should reply or ignore the chat.

“Is Fushiguro alright?” You hit send before you can overthink and toss your phone onto your nightstand. When your phone loudly pings, you scramble in the dark to grab it, unlocking your phone to view the response. You flip onto your stomach, burying your face into your pillow with a loud muffled groan.

Maki: Aw, are you worried about your lover boy?

You should’ve never confided in Maki about your small crush on Fushiguro. Well, it’s not like you were the one to bring it up. When Maki had casually slipped into your conversation that it’s gross how much you resemble a lovesick puppy around Fushiguro, you were taken aback and attempted to refute her observation. However, your best friend knows you like the back of her hand and bluntly stated that it’s obvious you’re pining for Fushiguro. You winced when she told you that. Was it really that obvious? The pointed look she gave you in return confirmed that yes, it was that obvious. Luckily for you, Fushiguro is one of the densest people you know when it comes to the realm of romance so to your knowledge, he’s still completely clueless to your feelings.

Your classmates all know of your feelings for the First-Year, but they don’t meddle in your love life. The most they do is tease you or give you knowing looks, which you brush off as quickly as you can while you try to rein in the resulting heat that floods your face. No, it’s not your classmates you have to worry about. It’s your idiot of a Sensei who has nothing better to do with his life than to concern himself with his students’ love lives despite being the strongest Sorcerer there is. If you could, you’d sock him right in the gut for the number of times he’s attempted to push you and Fushiguro together. The awkwardness that came from those experiences still makes you want to crawl into a hole whenever you think about it for too long.

The vibration of your phone in your hand draws you out of your thoughts. You grimace when you read the text message.

Gojo-Sensei: Don’t worry!!!! Your lover boy is alright, but I bet he’d feel better if you checked in on him. ;)

You can clearly envision Gojo-Sensei’s glee on the other end of the phone. The man feeds off of embarrassing his students. You opt not to respond anymore, clicking out of the application and turning off your phone. Gently placing your phone onto your night stand, you tug your comforter up to your chin and close your eyes for the night.

Perhaps, you will check in on Fushiguro later.

“Oi, quit zoning out.”

You groan in pain when Maki sharply jabs you in the stomach with the end of her wooden bo staff. She gives you an unamused look when you toss a harsh glare her way.

“I’m not zoning out,” you mutter, readjusting your grip on your respective staff to continue the light sparring session you and Maki are engaging in. She doesn’t bother to restrain herself from rolling her eyes as she counters your strike, easily knocking your staff out of your hands. You’re quick in your attempt to grab your staff again, but Maki cleanly sweeps your legs out from under you, sending you crashing face first in the dirt.

“Right, and Mai and I have a wonderful relationship,” She sarcastically says, digging one end of her bo staff into the ground and leaning her weight against it. “He’s fine, you know? You shouldn’t worry so much about him. You should be more worried about me kicking your ass.”

You loudly whine when Maki brings him up and flop onto your back to gaze up at her. “Who said I’m worried about Fushiguro?” You childishly huff, propping yourself up and leaning back onto your forearms. Your expression scrunches up in distaste as dirt uncomfortably sticks to your sweaty skin.

Though you’re attempting to deny it, of course, you’re worried about Fushiguro. Although Maki already knows how you feel about the First-Year, you’d rather skirt around the subject and pretend that you’re much better at hiding your emotions than you actually are.

“Who said anything about Fushiguro?” Maki innocently cocks a brow, but smirks to herself as you murmur a low fuck underneath your breath. Damn, you walked right into that one.

“I hate you, you know that?” You deadpan, staring straight into Maki’s eyes.

“Yeah, I hate you too.”

The corner of your lips twitch up into a hint of grin as Maki offers you a hand, pulling you up onto your feet.

You wrap up your training session not long after that since Maki claimed that she didn’t see the point in continuing to spar if you’re not going to give it your all. “There’s no fun in beating someone over and over again,” she sighed as you were knocked to the ground for what felt like the hundredth time that day. You gave her a half-hearted glare in response to that comment.

Freshly showered, you’re now lounging on one of the benches placed near the dorms, occupying your time by scrolling through social media. You try to convince yourself that you’re hanging around outside because you want to enjoy how nice the day is, but you, and everyone else, know better. Fushiguro, and presumably Gojo-Sensei, should be coming back from their mission soon. Although you know that Fushiguro wasn’t seriously injured, you also know that the tight coil of worry in your stomach won’t go away until you see it with your own eyes that Fushiguro is, indeed, okay.

“Senpai?” The sudden noise startles you and you scramble to sit up straight. You unconsciously smooth out the creases in your clothing as you meet the eyes of the person who called you.

“Fushiguro,” you breathe out, relief heavily laced in your voice. You push yourself off the bench to stand on your feet and quickly scan his form for injuries, brows furrowing when you see the numerous bandages littering his face. It’s only when Fushiguro shifts underneath your intense gaze that you realize how long you must have spent staring at his face. Great, now he’s going to think you’re some sort of creep, you think to yourself. “H-how are you feeling?”

You internally wince at your slight fumbling over your words. You’re just glad nobody else is around to witness this encounter, Gojo-Sensei and Maki would find way too much delight in your distress.

Fushiguro brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. A hint of redness seeps out from underneath his bandages, staining his cheeks, as he reflects on how badly his simple retrieval mission turned out. He’ll leave it up to Gojo-Sensei to explain to your class about Itadori and how he’s Sukuna’s new vessel. He wonders how you all will take it.

“I’m fine, Senpai,” he replies, grimacing as the pads of his fingertips run along the gauzy material of the bandage firmly wrapped around his head. Heat floods his cheeks when he looks up to see the genuine concern in your expression. Fushiguro’s thankful that the bandage on his cheek manages to partially conceal the flush of his skin. “Really.” He adds on for extra emphasis. You still look unconvinced, but you nod along as if you actually believe Fushiguro’s words.

“Well, that’s a relief. I was worried about you when Gojo-Sensei sent us those pictures of you all bloodied up,” you say with a sheepish grin.

“You were worried about me?” Fushiguro questions with a slight raise of his brow.

Oh fuck. For a moment, you say nothing: frozen completely still as your brain attempts to process the fact that you just told Fushiguro, to his face, that you were concerned about his well-being. Maybe, he’d interpret your words in a friendly way. Perhaps, he would think that you were just being a good upperclassman and looking out for him. If you were lucky, Fushiguro would think nothing of your comment.

“Senpai?” A sudden weight on your shoulder pulls you out of your internal panicking. Fushiguro’s hand lightly rests on your shoulder as a concerned expression lies on his face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Fushiguro,” you assure him. There’s still a slight frown in place, crinkling the bandage stuck on the corner of Fushiguro’s mouth. You inhale deeply in order to muster up as much courage as you can for what you’re going to do next. “I promise.” Your voice softens as you gently place your palm over the back of Fushiguro’s hand.

Fushiguro stills underneath your touch and you have to restrain yourself from giggling at the intense redness that floods his cheeks. His flush deepens even more when you find yourself unable to completely suppress your amusement, your quiet laughter filling the air. He’s quick to draw his hand off of your shoulder to rest by his side.

“Good. I’m going to go rest in my dorm now. See you later, Senpai.” His words nearly slur together with how fast Fushiguro spits them out. You don’t even have the opportunity to say goodbye in return as Fushiguro swiftly turns around and rushes inside of the dorm building.

He’s awfully cute when he’s flustered, you muse. A silly grin crosses your face unconsciously as you attempt to sear the image of Fushiguro blushing into your memory. Maybe, your feelings aren’t as unrequited as you think.

“Ah, young love.”

You jolt, spinning around to face the owner of the voice. Your grin falls as soon as you make eye contact with the individual.

“Gojo-Sensei,” you deadpan. Your brow twitches in annoyance at his elated expression. Knowing him, he probably eavesdropped on your entire conversation with Fushiguro. “If you took any pictures or videos, I am going to kill you.”

His grin only widens at that.

“Too late.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jjk scenarios #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro fluff #megumi fluff #flower.shop #flower.shop: violets. #celeste.scribs #celeste.adores #adoring.fushiguro

[lieutenant-simp]

Protecting You Is All I know How To Do

Shield Powered Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Warning: Mentions of childhood trauma, beatings, injuries. Angst. Little fluff at end. 

Request: YES :))))

Summary: Protecting Wanda was all you knew, she was your rock and you were hers. 

Not my Gif

A/N: This is my first request, so this is a big deal! This was not proofread but I really enjoyed writing this. 

Words: 1,508

Your powers were the cause of all your problems, the damage to your health, to your head, the trauma they caused you never wanted to use them. When you first got to HYDRA, you were taken, no given. Your parents trusted some men in suits because they were too messed up to care about anyone but themselves. They wanted money, power and the men promised everything and more to them. You don't know what happened to them after you left, but you hope whatever it was, was worse than anything you'd been subjected to. 

Every day, like clockwork, you were taken to a small dark room, had serum after serum injected into you. Test after test to see what happened to you, nothing worked, until it did. You were upset, you were tired of them beating you, they blamed you for their serums not working, and you just put your hands out. They were blasted to the other side of the room, the force from your shield launching them back. Once again, they blamed you for not finding out your powers sooner. All your tests came back normal, and they didn't know which serum made you this way. The beatings only got worse from there. 

Now that you had powers, you were bound, you didn't want to cooperate. You became numb, numb from the pain. They beat you no matter what. No matter if you cooperated or not. All you could do than pass the time was to be in your head. It was your safe place. When you were subjected to their beatings, you went inside your head to distract yourself. You never felt alone there. You had imagined a new life, one with your parents, what might've happened if they weren't such deadbeats. You imagined love. You imagined anything and everything. Your head was the place that made you sane. 

"Hey, I hear your thoughts are you there?” You hear a voice in your head, you look around your room. The men had already left, where was it coming from. You laugh, you're finally going crazy from being alone. “I am your cellmate, I can hear you, you're not crazy”

“You can hear me? How?” You were definitely crazy now. There was no one here. 

“I have powers, I can read and communicate with others in my mind.” Ah, that makes sense, you were alone in the corridor, clearly, it was made for those with powers, and you were the first successful one and now they had found another. 

“How long have you been here?” You heard her sigh inside your mind, “I just got here, my parents, they uh, they passed away recently and well turns out twin orphans with powers travels around,” You sympathize with her, you want her to not feel alone anymore. She was the only one you had anymore. 

“You have a twin?” You hear her laugh, “Yeah, he’s like me, he has powers too, but he can’t read minds. Do you have powers?” You hesitate to open up to her, afraid of everyone but she seems comfortable, at least in your head, you are relaxed, you’re not afraid. 

Quickly you became friends, her name was Wanda, and she told you about her family. Her twin brother, you could talk to through Wanda, he was nice, witty, and he also became your friend. She would tell you often about her life before HYDRA. You both had created plans, plans to escape, plans for what you'd do after you got out, but you never followed through. Sometimes it was nice to wonder. Wanda was your age, young, and she was new. You once heard her cry about the same men that tortured you. To escape the beatings from them, you'd create a shield surrounding her. She told you when they came in, and you had shared the world inside your head with her to go to, it kept her distracted. When they saw the shield, it would distract them from her as they would march over to you and hurt you instead. You needed Wanda, she was your friend, your closest friend. After some time you would do the same with her brother.

You still despised using your powers, you could've easily used them to shield yourself instead, but you couldn't. You were scared of them, but Wanda and her brother needed you, they needed you to protect them. 

After Ultron, when Pietro died, you were crushed. Your job was to protect the twins. Thankfully Wanda was okay, You felt as if your purpose was to protect them, and you failed. Wanda leaned on you, and you leaned on her. His death wasn't easy on either of you. 

You join the Avengers the same time Wanda did, you didn't want to leave her side and she didn't want you to leave hers. You both still communicated inside your head, it was a comfort you both could only get from each other. When you went on missions you both were paired together, you protected her. You didn't give a damn about what happened to you, but the first time you were injured, changed your perspective. 

Wanda was in the waiting room, waiting for you to come out of surgery, the bullet was lodged in your stomach. Wanda needed you, as much as you need her. She loved you, she always had. She had a crush on you the moment she talked to you. You, on the other hand, had never really got to experience those emotions, you had pushed them down but you did love Wanda too. You were her rock, her protector. A tough egg to crack to everyone else, but to her, you were soft. You held her when she cried, and she would hold you. Your rooms were next to each other, but you usually ended up sleeping in the same room.

When you were ready to receive visitors, she was there in an instant. She held your hand and waited, prayed for you to wake up. And you did. You woke up to her hand in yours. You opened your eyes to see a scratch on her head. You reached over a brushed your hand against it. She looked at you softly, a small smile on her face, her eyes full of tears. You could tell by the look on her face, the injury took a toll on her, it caused her pain. The pain you tried every day to avoid, to help her with.

You realized, to protect her you had to protect yourself. How were you supposed to help her if you were dead or unconscious or just unable to. You didn't want to lose her, she's already lost so much. You knew she could probably hear you because squeezed your hand softly, before you hear her soft voice inside your head. 

"I need you moya lyubov, I need you here with me" You smile at her softly, your hand reaching up to hold her face, your thumb drawing lazy circles across her skin. Your actions say all the words you can’t say. "Can I ask you a question printsessa," you nod your head, "Why me?" You obviously look confused because she continues, "Every time on missions, I am the only one unharmed, the others, they have bruises and black eyes. We both know how many gunshot wounds have been had between all of them. I don't get that experience, you only use your powers to protect me." You think for a minute pondering, you didn't protect the others. They chalked it up to you both knowing each other longer. But you look at your interlocked hands, you thought of the way your heart raced with Wanda. You loved her, the realization hit you like a truck. 

"Because I love you Wands, I always have. I can't stand seeing you hurt if I could do something about it." You look up at her, no words had to be spoken as she leaned in and kissed you. Your hand stayed at her face as she pulled you closer. The kiss said a lot of words between you two, years of love that has been saved between you. 

-

Its been two years since that day, you and Wanda have decided to move in together a few months after that. But today is your anniversary. This day 2 years ago, you asked Wanda to be your girlfriend. You had asked Nat for help then, and you're asking Nat now. 

“Please Nat, you know her so well, do I get this ring,” You paused to show her a picture before showing her another one a moment later, “or this one?” You heard her sigh.

“Y/N, you have been dating for a couple years, and have known each other countless before that, you know her better than me!” You sigh, she's right but that didn't make your decision easier. 

“I just want this to be perfect Nat, it's not every day you ask the love of your life to marry you.”

#wanda maximov #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda marvel #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #marvel #wanda maximov x reader #wanda maximov x y/n #wanda maximov x you #maximoff #wanda fluff #wanda maximoff fluff

[spectral-musette]

Hey! I hope you’re feeling better :) Could you do some older Obi Wan and Satine in an AU where they both live, The Emperor doesn’t get away with his craziness and we just have a happy Obitine living out the rest of their lives? :’)

Hey Anon, we all love some happiness AU now and then.<3 I wasn't sure if you meant fic or art, so I did a little bit of both? (And by "older" i wasn't sure if you meant like "transforming into Alec Guinness" older, but the ficlet (~1500 words) ended up set just a few years after the end of the war.)

. . . . .

“So early?”

The sun hadn’t yet risen above the jagged Coruscant skyline, and the pink morning light softly illuminated the room as the city lights began to wink off. Satine pushed her hair out of her face to better observe the lovely man sitting up next to her in her bed, bare-chested and lightly freckled, his own hair charmingly disarrayed as well.

He bent, kissing her temple, his beard soft against her cheek.

“I promised Cin I’d lead a saber workshop this morning.”

Satine rolled onto her back, reaching up to smooth his hair as he straightened. “Then I shan’t try to entice you to stay. Since you gave your word.”

“Your very existence entices me to stay,” he countered, smiling a little. “Always.”

“Oh, very nice. Early morning flattery.”

“Genuine,” he protested, making a show of looking wounded.

“Always?” she challenged, raising an eyebrow at him. “That’s a bit difficult to swallow in light of your 15 year absence from my company.”

“Believe me, I was very enticed,” he promised, kissing her again.

“You might have to convince me. But later, I suppose.” She heaved a sigh.

“I can probably get away in time for a late brunch,” he offered.

She shook her head slightly, pushing herself up reluctantly from her comfortable nest of pillows. “Padme wants me in a meeting at midday.”

“And the Chancellor must be obeyed.”

“Well. This one, anyway,” Satine said, with a twist of a wry smile. She meant no offense to Padme’s direct predecessor in the office, the Prince of Alderaan, but, even all these years later, they all still lived in the shadow of what Palpatine had nearly done to the Republic.

“I’ll see you this evening, then.” He pulled his undertunic on over his head, and Satine smoothed his hair again.

“I suppose, compared to 15 years, that’s not so long to wait.”

“It will feel like an eternity, I assure you.” He gathered her into his arms.

“If you keep that up, you’re going to be late. And what will you tell all those impressionable padawans if they ask what kept you?”

“They wouldn’t dare. My dear Satine, our relationship is the absolute worst kept secret in the Jedi Temple.”

“Worse than Padme and Anakin’s?”

“At this point, I think so. The arrival of the twins rather disqualified them from ‘secret’ status.”

“How is the new training system working out?”

“What, letting the Skywalkers go home with their father at the end of the day? It certainly hasn’t seemed to impede their progress compared to their peers. A few other families are trying it as well. A couple from Lothal just brought their son to us on a similar schedule and will be living on Coruscant for a few years at least.”

“I’m looking forward to learning about the process in great and personal detail when we are also no longer able to maintain the pretense of secrecy.”

He hitched up her chemise, resting a hand against the large scar below her sternum, pale even in comparison to her fair skin. If it hadn’t been for her long recovery from the damage to her spine, the Skywalker twins might already have a playmate. As it was, it was only about a year since she’d been healthy enough to consider trying to conceive.

“As am I,” he promised, his touch tender as he settled his hands on her waist and kissed her forehead.

“It does seem strange to watch the Jedi Order bend,” she pointed out when he picked up his outer tunic from the floor. She wasn’t above goading him a little, now and then.

He shook his head, taking it serenely, as usual. “We do change. It usually takes a bit more time, but with our ranks so thinned by the casualties of the war, relaxing the requirements for initiates only makes sense.”

“And ignoring the amorous exploits of Jedi Knights so that they make more initiates?” She ran her fingertips lightly over his face, leaving a lingering touch on his mouth.

“We more or less always did that.” He kissed her hand.

“I recall being a bit more discreet in the past.”

“That was for your sake, not mine,” he pointed out. “I might’ve had some official censure for being indiscreet, but I expect most of my cohorts were more likely to congratulate me on having the good fortune of catching your eye.”

“Well, the Mandalorians couldn’t deny that you’re handsome and a fine warrior, but, indeed, the situation would’ve been rather disagreeable at home if we’d been exposed, at the time,” she agreed.

“Do you miss it?” he asked softly.

“What, the ugly, hateful rhetoric and death threats from Mandalorian extremists?”

He shook his head. “Home. Sundari. Mandalore.”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Bo is doing well, though. She’s wiser than she used to be. Sometimes I wonder if it shouldn’t have always been her on the throne.”

“She’s ruling what you rebuilt. Do you think there would’ve been anything left if it had always been her?”

“More flattery.”

“Also genuine.”

“I like that you think that, anyway,” she admitted. “Hadn’t you better go?” she asked, regretful.

“I could skip breakfast,” he offered, leaning in to kiss her neck.

“And go to teach while you’re hungry and cross? I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she countered, giggling a little.

“I would not be cross,” he denied.

“Well, not at first. Anyway, I like that you suggested it, but you’d better not.”

“Actually,” he said, drawing back and giving her a twist of a smile. “There’s plenty of time. Workshop’s not till midmorning.”

“Then why all this pretense of getting dressed?” she demanded, indignant.

“One doesn’t like to assume. You might’ve wanted to go back to sleep.”

“My dear Obi-Wan, when have I ever preferred to go to back to sleep rather than…”

She didn’t have time to finish her sentence before he kissed her deeply.

. . . . .

(Evening...)

. . . . .

Satine wrapped her arms around his chest, nuzzling against him until he suddenly winced, breath hissing between his teeth.

“Old injury or new?” she asked, stepping back and looking him over critically.

“New. Nothing serious, I just think I overdid it at the saber workshop today.”

She circled him, running her hands over his shoulders.

“You’re all in knots,” she scolded. “Get your tunics off. Do you think you pulled something?”

He moved to oblige, flinching again. "I hope it's just a muscle cramp."

“Oh, let me.” She nudged his shoulder so that he turned to face her again, then ran her hands along the familiar lines of his tabard down to his waist, working at the fastening of his belt. “I don’t see why you didn’t go see the Healers.”

“It only just started to really trouble me.”

“Is that entirely honest?”

“You mean, I didn’t want to give some young upstart the satisfaction of saying he’d sent Master Kenobi to see the Healers? You think I’m that vain?” he asked, as she proceeded with divesting him of his tunics. He could afford a little vanity, she reflected, admiring the graceful lines of musculature of his lean form and leaning to plant a light kiss between his collar bones.

“I think you are… mindful of your reputation.” She couldn’t help smiling a little.

He snorted softly. “Perhaps I am … a little vain.”

“So who can I blame for this injury?”

“Me. Showing off,” he confessed. “I could’ve just held my ground, but I gave it a little flourish to make it a good show. I ought to have known I was getting too old for that sort of thing.”

“And did you win?”

“This time.”

“I understand that you enjoy teaching these workshops, but I don’t see why it has end up in an all out duel against opponents half your age.” She pulled him down to the bed with her, running her hands over his back carefully to gauge the sore spots.

“Is that meant to suggest that they have the unfair advantage or I do?” He rolled his shoulders under her touch as she started the massage.

“I’m sure both are true, in different ways.”

“Very diplomatic,” he assured her. “I suppose they want to test their mettle. I know I did, at their age.”

“And did you challenge the reigning swordmasters?”

“Certainly. And got soundly trounced for my trouble.”

“And now it is your duty to do the trouncing?"

“It is.”

“Can’t you leave it to Anakin?”

“Anakin does his share.”

“So who was it that almost beat you?”

“Young Dume. Depa’s apprentice.”

“Yes, I met him when he escorted Senator Syndulla’s daughter to the Chancellor’s office. He seemed like a sweet boy, I suppose I can forgive him.”

“Don’t be so quick to pardon. One of these days, he’ll win. Or Suduri will, or half a dozen others.”

“And then will you go see the Healers?”

“Why would I need to, when I can get such fine care here?”

She shook her head even as she smiled, leaning down to kiss the back of his neck.

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Satine Kryze #Obi Wan/Satine #obitine #Star Wars AU #Happiness AU #Star Wars art #my art #pencil sketches #I wrote a thing #the art is a bit repetitive bleh sorry I know I've drawn this before #and maybe better? #ah well #long post

[ura-writes]

Trampolinist

Summary - You’re a player who jumps from server to server, often revisiting several and always trying to find access to new ones. When a victorious game of duos Skywars on Hypixel wins you an invitation to one of the most famous yet exclusive servers in the community, you find a world you never knew existed, allies you’re not certain you can trust, and enemies that may not be just that. Oh, yeah, and an anarchist piglin hybrid.

(c!technoblade/server jumper!reader)

Basic warnings: minor blood, swearing, light threats

A/N - hello! I decided to start this series as a result of a sporadic idea at midnight after quite an odd dream. Some information you might need:

A few select people can jump servers without using portals, and you (the reader) are one of them.

Some servers are public and some require invites. Hypixel and a lot of the other bigger servers are public, while SMPs such as the Dream SMP are private and require an invite.

Jumpers, as they are commonly referred to throughout the series, still require an invite to private servers, though some have figured out loopholes to this process and actively exploit it, earning the title of “Crashers”. You have figured it out but don’t use the ability.

The rating for this series is 14-15+, most likely including minor to graphic descriptions of blood/injuries, violence, swearing, minor manipulation and death.

There are select groups of people who hate Jumpers and actively try to perma-kill them or get them source-banned from servers, leaving them stuck in single player and isolation.

From the author:

This will be in second person.

There will be no use of Y/N or (Y/N) or anything along those lines. I understand some people use them as a descriptor, but in my opinion, it looks a bit messy/choppy.

Feel free to criticize, though don’t be super harsh.

Also gl free to point out spelling mistakes.

I love love LOVE feedback! Gimme it! Please! /lh /gen

Anyway, those are the basics that you need to know! For now, at least… hehe.

Enjoy the first part!

-ura

——

The familiar particles signalling a personal portal opening in the lobby sends a few people scattering, but most just move to the side, though there are a fair few that stay to watch the person step out of the rip in reality.

The person stumbles out, cursing the deities to high heaven, brushing dirt and sweat and even a bug off of their face, certainly looking a bit worse for wear.

This was certainly not what the audience was expecting. They were expecting a prim, proper or at least somewhat distinguished person to step out of the actively sparking spiral, as most Jumpers are that way, even just a bit.

Nope.

“What are you looking at?”

The people step back a bit, noticing the sword the person clutches in their hand.

That person is you.

“Fuck off, would you? You probably see Jumpers on the daily! Fuckin’ annoying.” you grumble, sheathing the sword at your side. “Fuck… is this Hypixel?”

With a cursory sweep of the attire of the people surrounding you and buildings towering over everyone, you determine that yes, it is, in fact, Hypixel.

Of course, that may have also been the big-ass sign in the sky with the server’s name on it. That too.

With a sigh and a wave of your hand, you pull your inventory up. The typical “please place your personal belongings in a safe place before playing a match, otherwise they may be wiped.” message pops up when you do. You huff, wave your fingers to dismiss the text. Not like you’ve been here a hundred thousand times or anything like that.

The Netherite blade at your side, your armor and any sentimental belongings you have on you go straight into your enderchest, categorized in one of the shulker boxes designated specifically for this purpose.

As you walk along, trying to sort your inventory out (fortunately the server provides a free repair and replace to anyone’s clothing, as yours are beaten pretty much beyond self-help), deciding what match you might want to play, the crowd that was surrounding you quickly scurries off with a few screams.

A quick glance upwards catches your gaze on a red and white nametag.

Huh. Don’t see those often.

Whispers of the name you can’t quite see from where you stand rapidly reach your ears, ringing with slight familiarity.

Dream.

Odd. The masked man doesn’t often come onto public servers, mainly sticking to his own private server, named after him. The Dream SMP. How egotistical.

Without another glance towards the fan-people, you select a game idly. The blue text pops up in front of you, confirming your want to play the match.

Skywars Duos.

Before you know it, you’re whisked off to the arena, a bit dizzy from your landing, but fine nonetheless. The timer for the start slowly counts down, ticking slowly as people pop into existence with increasing frequency.

A presence behind you alerts you to your teammate. You nod at them just as the beeping of the final ten seconds counts down.

After a few repeated sessions, most being losses, you decide on one more match before you head to a tavern for the night, preferably one with a view.

This time you’re the second one to arrive. And for once, you take a longer look at your teammate.

He’s the guy everyone was freaking out about a few hours earlier… what was his name again? Dr-something. Or was it a Tr-something? Ah, who knows. It doesn’t matter as long as he’s good. You don’t bother to look at his nametag; he’s probably just some hotshot who thinks he’s all that.

“Not going to freak out?” he asks you. You snort at the question, shaking your head with a glance at the timer.

“Just here to kick ass.”

“Fair enough,” he replies. “You any good?”

A laugh from you echoes as the beeping of the countdown starts.

“We’ll see.”

The barrier below you drops, sending you hurtling to the floating island below. You quickly hit the ground, rolling into a crouch while your teammate raids the chest beside you, tossing a few bits of armor and a stone axe as well as a golden apple, which you catch and nod gratefully.

The hood on his head drops when another player attempts to take him out of the game. He ducks, barely avoiding the glimmer of the enchanted sword, sweeping her legs out from under her. The enemy player narrowly rolls out of the way with her shield being knocked out of her hands into the dark blue void below the floating island.

She curses loudly as his axe lands beside her head, kicking it to the side.

In that moment, you shove her hard off of the crumbling stone, jabbing your axe in her shoulder for final measure. Her falling figure flashes red with the loss of hearts, and eventually, she disintegrates into dust, the announcement of her tag being eliminated in the chat making you smirk.

“Well, you are good.”

You send him a smirk and collect the spoils of your kill, mostly a few potions and the iron blade, tossing a few of the former to your teammate and splashing a speed potion on yourself.

With practiced movements you begin to build to the middle islands, your teammate throwing the occasional snowball at any approaching enemy players, even knocking one off their bridge. The message of their death rings in the chat, being the fifth elimination.

The chests there contain better loot, even a diamond sword and chestplate, a strength II potion and a Power I bow with fifteen arrows. You take the bow and chestplate (with permission from your teammate, who gladly takes the sword and potion) and book it to the center chests, almost laughing at the amount of snowballs and arrows lying there.

“Well, I’m not complaining,” you muse.

You hear a yell of your tag, quickly spinning around to block the swing of an enchanted axe, their teammate quickly turning to gang up on you after finishing off another person.

Great. You’re fighting two people now.

Swing, duck, dodge, swipe, duck, swipe, block—shit, you got stabbed! Two hearts disappear from your health bar, sending a flurry of curses flying from your lips.

But luckily, your teammate is fast enough to eliminate the weaker of the two.

The tables turn.

The clash of blades, splash of potions and grunts of pain quickly move to the edge of the center island. It’s two verses one now, and the three of you are the last competitors in the match.

Block the swing, return the blow, duck, block, dodge—

A sudden stab in your shoulder alerts you to an arrow stuck in the skin there, slowly depleting your health.

It’s merely a distraction.

The enemy player barrels into you, sending you stumbling backwards right at the edge of crumbling gravel.

Poison becomes your downfall.

The smack of another half heart.

As one last resort, you grip onto the block with one hand, the other dangling with your bow into the void. Gritting your teeth, you do your damndest to drag yourself up, the poison wreaking havoc through your body and strength.

Shit. I’m not going to survive this, am I?

The one-handed grip on your bow tightens, nocked arrow slipping between your dirt-covered fingers.

You make a decision.

Just as the enemy player comes over, smirking but low on health, you let go of the block, drawing your arrow back as you fall into the void.

The broadhead meets its mark just in time, signalling a victory with a dragon appearing underneath you right before you hit the death line. A sigh of relief escapes your lips; you direct the dragon upwards with a rush of gratefulness soaring through your body. Respawning isn’t a pleasant process.

Twenty or so seconds later, you appear back in the lobby with your teammate at your side. The lobby is nearly empty, only a few people milling around, most having traveled elsewhere or checked into a tavern or hotel.

“You’re good. We could use you on our side.”

“ ‘We’?”

Two other figures appear out of seemingly nowhere, one wearing white-rimmed black sunglasses with a blue hoodie, the other a bandana and a white hoodie with flames on the front of it.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, calling up a portal in your mind, ready to dash through it at the slightest hint of a threat. Sparks form by your palms, their signature color drawing the leader’s attention.

“Calm down. I have no interest in killing you.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” you retort. “Three versus one isn’t exactly fair y’know.” The sparks grow brighter; though they are primarily used to call up portals, they can deal quite a blow to anyone who forcefully comes into contact with them.

Dream (you now read off his nametag, getting sick of referring to him by random aliases) extends a hand in front of his body. Something hovers in it, glowing a soft white and reading something you can’t quite make out.

“It’s not going to kill you.”

Bandanna laughs at that.

“Reassuring,” you snap, taking a closer look at it.

Invitation: Dream SMP

Active?: Yes

Expires: Never

Taken aback, you sputter out a few jumbled sentences before asking why they’d invite you of all people. Sure, you may be okay at Skywars, but that doesn’t warrant an invitation to literally the most exclusive server in the network.

“Uh—what?”

You take a quick glance at the two others, noting their tags are red and white as well, reading Sapnap and Georgenotfound.

“You don’t have to accept.” Dream steps forward to set the glowing orb in your hands. “Just know that we picked you for a very good reason.

How… interesting.

“Is it ‘cause I’m an inactive Crasher?”

The three stiffen at the moniker used for the infamous Jumpers, the ones who figure out ways around the system, the lines of fate that make up the different servers, finding loopholes that not even the best Mender can. They exploit them, gaining almost god-like abilities on the server only to wreak absolute anarchy on the infrastructure until the admin can step in, if they haven’t been eliminated from the system or perma-killed already.

From what little you know about the Dream SMP, you know the admin is a god of sorts, mostly staying out of the way but occasionally fixing matters that need it. Otherwise they stay… wherever gods stay.

“No,” George pipes up. You note his accent, odd and slightly out of place, but not unpleasant. “You being a Jumper does help, however.”

You’ve heard of elusive servers where Jumpers have access to a lot of power and near-unlimited resources, though no one can quite figure out why. Those servers are typically entirely anarchy.

“Yeah, sure.” But you clutch the invitation closer to your person anyway. It glows a bit brighter at the increased contact.

“Think on it.”

Those words echo through your mind throughout the rest of the night, in your bed, subconsciously in your dreams and into the next morning.

It’s no easy decision. You know you’ll be dragged into all sorts of politics, conflict and battles unlike the Skywars ones you usually find yourself dealing with.

Your hand grips the glowing ball a bit tighter, reading the same three statements engraved on it repeatedly until the words are branded into your mind.

And then it disappears.

“Invitation accepted.”

#mcyt x reader #reader insert #xreader #x reader #mcyt x you #technoblade x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #Trampolinist: Series

[violettelueur]

— FUSHIGURO MEGUMI + INUMAKI TOGE || WHEN THEIR S/O SPRAINS THEIR ANKLE

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi + inumaki toge from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : grammar issues

↳ form : headcanons

↳ published : 31 january

↳ pronouns : non specified in headcanon

↳ request : So I just twisted my ankle again and it sucks :( can I maybe request something with either Inumaki or Fushiguro taking care of a reader who hurt their ankle or something along those lines?

↳ barista’s notes : hi hi everyone~ how are you all doing? i hope you all are taking care of yourselves ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ right now, i am watching a crime documentary and to be honest, i just randomly picked it....but other than that, i hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and come again soon!

When you injure your ankle there are two ways Fushiguro will act because I feel like there will be a few different scenarios that occur when you twist your ankle.

Scenario one: if you are clumsy and twist it accidentally, Fushiguro will probably groan at you to be more careful in the future but will gently inspect your ankle and take you to Ieiri by wrapping an arm under yours to help support and guide you.

If Ieiri i isn’t there, Fushiguro will prepare an ice pack for you from his dorm - because we know he has a lot of thoughts in his freezer - and will carefully place your foot on a benched surface (like a pile of pillows) before placing the frozen packet on the pained part.

He will constantly ask if you are okay and how bad does it hurt while bandaging the ankle since he doesn’t want to cause you any more pain than you are already in.

He will strictly tell you to keep your ankle on the benched surface and not to move at all before going somewhere to get you some pain medications as well as some food since you are forbidden to walk now.

Scenario two: If you twisted it during a mission/fight, Fushiguro will try to exorcise the curse as quickly as possible and will shout if you are okay in a panic.

When he finally excises the cure, Fushiguro will rush towards you and is really gentle when it comes to checking up your ankle - more gentle than he usually is when you accidentally do the same thing.

When he takes off your shoe and sock, expect it to be the slowest process ever because he really doesn’t want to cause you any pain or further injury since he isn’t sure on how bad it is.

If there is instant redness or bruising, Fushiguro will carry you bridal style (usually he doesn’t do that) since he doesn’t want to make you walk at all - he will ask the person who transported you both to quickly rush back to Jujutsu Tech in a calm but a strained voice.

He feels guilty that you got injured when in reality he is probably more injured than you - he just doesn’t feel the pain due to the adrenaline rush of you being hurt.

In conclusion, no matter how you caused your ankle to be injured, Fushiguro will be worried - internally mostly -  and will constantly make sure you are okay and doesn’t hurt you since he doesn’t want to make it worse than it already is - he is such a caring boyfriend.

When you injure your ankle, Inumaki will rapidly rush to your side and will instantly question you on if you are okay, how did you injure it, how bad does it hurt.

But the thing is you understand ‘are you okay?’ since that is ‘leaf mustard’ but the whole rest will be gibberish leading you to be really confused, so you will try your best to answer what you think he is asking.

Inumaki will quickly get your shoe off without trying to hurt you since he needs to know how bad the injury is.

There will be times where he will turn your ankle causing some pain and when he does that, he will profusely apologise before checking it again.

Inumaki will carry you on his back while somehow holding your shoe as he transports you to go see Ieiri but he will take his time since he doesn’t want to move your ankle too much - even though a piggyback doesn’t require to hold someone’s ankles, he is just really worried.

Unlike Fushiguro (if Ieiri isn't there), I don’t feel like Inumaki will know some of the basic first aid skills like he would know to use ice to help with the incoming swelling/redness but the bandage wrapping skills are not there at all.

So don’t expect a neat bandaged ankle - but he tried his best and that makes your ankle almost feel better.

Also, he will ask his junior Fushiguro or look around the infirmary for painkillers since I don’t know who else will have some - maybe Maki does, but she probably ran out.

Inumaki is also the type to draw on the bandages to try to make you feel better since who doesn’t want cute drawings by Inumaki?

Like Fushiguro, he won’t be as stern but he doesn’t allow you to move a muscle since he doesn’t want you to make the injury worse.

If you fidget too much for his liking, don’t be surprised when he lightly threatens you that he will use his curse technique to make you stop moving.

In conclusion, Inumaki will worry about you more openly than Fushiguro and as well as trying to make sure you okay, he will also try to make you laugh/feel better since he wants to forget the pain that you are in - basically being the funny boyfriend.

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanon #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk headcanons #jjk headcanon #jjk hcs #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #inumaki to/ge #to/ge inumaki #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro megumi #jjk fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen inumaki to/ge #jjk inumaki to/ge #fushiguro megumi headcanons #fushiguro megumi headcanon #fushiguro megumi hcs #inumaki to/ge headcanons #inumaki to/ge headcanon #inumaki to/ge hcs #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #inumaki to/ge x reader #to/ge inumaki x reader

[kast43]

[May contain angst, contains mild violence, a total fake scenario because DIOVOLO WOULD NEVER ALLOW this to happen]

For a few weeks now, some witches were giving MC a hard time. MC didn't quite understand why, but if they had to guess it was because of their living arrangement. MC never paid it any mind until one night when they were walking to the House of Lamentation after some errands alone. MC was jumped by 3 of them and roughed up a bit. One witch was so annoyed with MC's demeanor that they went too far and broke MC's arm. MC, not wanting any more trouble would decide to go to Purgatory Hall and ask for help.

💋Lucifer💋

-He got a phone call from Simeon, stating that they had to take MC for medical care for a broken arm.

-Didnt even give an explanation where he was going, but he rushed out of the house to be with MC.

-Was a composed mess; he was worried, angry and protective of MC.

-when questioned about how it happened, MC lied and he knew it.

-"Oh I just tripped and fell on my arm is all." Was not the explanation he believed.

-why would MC lie about this? He had to know.

-he would ask maybe a few more times then left MC alone. He knew he could find out more on his own anyways.

-as far as aiding MC, a perfect gentleman.

-Opens doors, holds bags, even does MC's chores if they were struggling.

-He felt so guilty for this that he would not leave MC's side for a minute...but it would be more comforting than overstepping.

-would be the one to make sure MC did everything they had to heal.

-"Don't forget to take your medicine. Do you need some water? Let me get it."

-"You are not suppose to prop anything on that arm...let me hold it."

-Would stop the brothers dead in their tracks if they tried to do anything that would require MC to do anything physical.

-He would be the type to not actually sign MC's cast, but he would wait until they were alone and draw a little heart in a place only MC could see

-He also low key had been suspicious about what happened and follows MC around to "observe".

-When he does find out what happens....well let's just say those who wronged MC will regret it deeply.

💰Mammon💰

-He might have been out gambling or something when he got the call about MC.

-run boy run

-His first reaction would be frustration of course

-"How could you let this happen??? Humans are too fragile and you need to be more careful!"

-would have never crossed his mind that MC lied about it.

-MC falls a lot, story checks out in his mind.

-Feral Protection Goblin.

-He refused to leave MC's side even for a second.

-He would carry bags and open doors, but Mammon being himself would do it in a very feral goblin way

-VERY protective. Like, No one was allowed to even look at MC without himself shooting a glare back.

-more worried about MC than what was going on around him.

-Absolutly the one to forget about meds

-signs his name IN BIG LETTERS on MC's cast

-May God have mercy on those witches that did this to MC when Mammon finds out what really happened.

🎮Leviathan🎮

-Most likely ignored Simeon's call, but would read his text.

-He does not like to leave his room often, but he will go to pick MC up with little hesitation.

-he will asked what happened, but ultimately he does not care since he can't stop it now.

-poor thing would be too scared to touch MC TBH.

-this reminds him how delicate humans were and he didn't want to make things worse.

-he would be more clingy without making contact.

-for the most part he did anything MC asked, only if they asked tho.

-was actually stoked that MC could actually spend time playing games or watching anime with him since they could not do too much physical labor.

-he would enjoy having quality time like this, but be upset it had to be this way.

-"It's annoying that you can only play games with me when you break a bone. You can come anytime you want you know."

-He would be the first one to sign the cast. Who knows, he might just doodle all over it

-lets say he overheard someone bragging about what they did to MC [since he is the quiet one no demon suspects him to be listening]

-he finds out what really happened...big mad

-seconds from summoning Lotan in the school

-then he finds out *who* did it

-pays each witch involved a visit and summons Lotan in each home

📚Satan📚

•he was simply reading when he got the call

•there he go, faster than light

•he would greet MC with in interrogation

•"MC what happened?"

•"Did someone do this to you?"

•"Where/when did this happen?"

•"You are FAR from 'okay'!"

•MC would just dodge any question regarding what had happened...MC knew that Satan was too smart to fall for one of their lies

•Satan does not know much about broken human bones...but by the next morning he  became an expert.

•He would go about this a lot like Lucifer, but in a more emotional way.

•Satan had become more protective of MC and refused to let them do anything too physical.

•he would follow MC around, making sure they did all the right things, carry bags, open doors, ya know the whole deal.

•took extra time with MC during study time and bed time.

•"I brought your meds...here is some water as well."

•med police

•would draw a cat on their cast

•He loves to read to MC as they fall asleep.

•if he were to find out what actually happened [which he would a lot faster than Lucifer btw] oh no

•oh no

•oh no no no no no

•might as well write those witches obituaries cuz THEY GONE

💋Asmodeus💋

•Picks the phone with Simeon and starts to flirt first off

•as mush as Simeon would love to entertain this, he let's Asmo know that MC had to be taken to get medical care

•Asmodeus rushes to go collect MC.

•he would understand MC was hurt, and at first he would play it off as shit just happens

•especially when MC lied about how it happened

•Honestly he would be low key scared and high key protective

•The one he loved the most [other than himself] was hurt!

•Obsessed with taking good care of MC.

•other than Lucifer, would be the best at making sure MC was taking good care of themselves to heal 🌟Beautifully🌟

•"MC~♡ let's take a break. Come and sit for a while"

•"use this lotion where you can reach, your skin will get dry under the cast"

•"don't forget your meds love, the sooner you heal the sooner we can be naughty~ 😈"

•this brother would be the most clingy out of all of them, but works out for MC.

•goes above and beyond holding doors and carrying bags...would escourt MC everywhere

•He does not only signs the cast, he glues a picture of himself on it

•MC would eventually tell Asmo what really happened...thinking they could trust Asmo not to loose his shit

•He looses his shit, but holds it together in front of MC

•the second he knows MC is asleep...he goes hunting for some naughty witches.

🍔Beelzebub🍔

•he was at practice when it happened, and missed the call

•MC ended in meeting him halfway home

•poor thing does not know what to do

•So sorry he missed the call

•the fact of the matter is, he trusts MC in what MC says happened.

•he was use to injuries with his workouts and sports...but MC was far too fragile...

•he would be the 'scary dog privilege' for MC

•He respects MC enough to give them space...but also watches MC like a hawk

•carries things for MC and refuses to take no for an anwser

•made sure MC was fed at ALL times.

•"Food always makes me feel better, so maybe you will get better if you eat"

•MC attaches themselves to Beelz instead of the other way around

•He would sign the cast, plain and simple. Mc would explain that he could add more if he wanted. [As evident from Mammon signing a new spot every day] so he would most likely draw food or something later on

•When Beelz finds out what truly happened, he would get upset...but not enough to do anything super harmful.

•he could go and eat all their food...or their homes. He would decide in the car.

🥱Belphagor🥱

•Again, Belphie is smarter than he lets on

•he would be aware of the bullies, but not the extent of what they would do

•most likely was asleep during the call

•would notice MC's long absence, then when MC did show up he was shocked.

•asking the usual questions, who what when where...MC would dodge them all.

•Belphie was suspicious

•Would be the most protective of MC, always be by MC's side

•but much like Beelz he would respect MC's space

•until he was sleepy that is

•would rest on MC anywhere and anytime

•would also be MC's 'scary dog' privilege, but shows dominance by laying in MC's lap

•MC didn't mind, they would play with Belphie's hair anyways

•he would doodle all over the cast, and if anything would sign his name under Mammon's every time he signed

•thrilled to bits at all the naps MC and him now have since MC was not allowed to do much.

•"Where do you want to nap today?"

•"MC why don't we go to the attic today, I happen to know Mammon is going get yelled at today...it won't be quiet for long"

•when he finally finds out what happened, and he will find out, he will not hold back

•where his twin would be passive, he would be aggressive...we can leave it at that

#obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #obey me

[scourgewins]

Getting Along (Part 3)

(Finished at last! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! I tried to pack in as much humor, action, and suspense as I could!)

(Warnings: slight injury, fear, fighting, death mention)

Well, they didn’t die immediately, so Sammy counted that as a small win.

The inky sewage water sloshed about the musician’s lower legs. He tried not to focus on that, but it was a bit hard not to. He also tried not to think about the fact that he was inhaling toxic fumes; even while wearing the spare nose pin Jack had lent him, he could almost taste it on his tongue. How did Jack work like this? He glanced at the lyricist trudging along beside him. He seemed unbothered, though that was probably because he was geared up with both a nose pin and high, rubber boots, while Sammy was forced to slog through the muck in regular, non-water resistant shoes.

Sammy didn’t realize he’d been glaring until Jack glared back.

“What?” the lyricist said testily.

“You sure you didn’t have any extra boots?” Sammy asked for the third time.

“Positive,” Jack replied through gritted teeth.

Sammy relented and grew spitefully silent. His hand reflexively clenched and unclenched the wrench he’d grabbed before they embarked on this rescue mission. He wasn’t sure what good it would do against a massive ink monster, but it was better than going in empty-handed.

Or maybe worse, he mused, Gives you a false sense of hope.

He shook his head. No use getting pessimistic. Susie needed rescuing and that was all he needed to worry about, though the fact that this would very likely go horribly wrong and all three of them would most certainly be eaten was an irritatingly persistent thought.

Jack spoke, as if hearing Sammy’s thoughts, “We will save her, you know, despite the odds.”

“Because we have to?” Sammy asked.

“Yeah,” Jack replied, “Because we have to.”

Sammy glanced at the lyricist, who flinched at his own shadow cast by the candle in his quivering hand. He was no fighter, but neither was Sammy. Come to think of it, they really should have asked for more backup. It wasn’t like there’d be any forthcoming, though, at least not of the useful variety. The only employees that might stand a chance against the ink monster were Thomas, Lacie, and Henry, and even they might fail. Besides, Susie needed help now and hunting those three down would take up precious time they didn’t have.

So it was up to them: a lyricist spooked by his own shadow and a musician with bird-like limbs. Yeah, they were definitely going to die.

And of all the people to die beside, it had to be Jack Fain.

“What’s the plan anyway?” Sammy snapped, “Or were you just going to go in swinging and hope that would be enough?”

Jack glared at him, “Do you have a better idea?”

No. “Of course.”

“Then by all means, let’s hear it.”

Sammy realized he’d backed himself into a corner. He cleared his throat, “Well...maybe one of us could be a distraction.” Yeah, that made sense.

“Distraction?” Jack echoed dubiously.

Sammy nodded emphatically, “One of us makes lots of noise to draw the attention of the ink thing, while the other gets Susie.”

As plans went, it was a sorry excuse for one, but tactics weren’t exactly in his job description.

“So…” Jack began, “Which of us do you intend to sacrifice?”

Oh, right. “Um…”

“Because it would make sense to put forth the largest target,” Jack glanced pointedly up and down Sammy’s lanky frame, “Don’t you think?”

Sammy regretted everything, “Well...it was just a suggestion. We don’t have to go with that plan.”

“No, no, I am quite intrigued,” If he didn’t need him to rescue Susie, Sammy would have wiped that smug look off his stupid mustached face.

Not one to take things lying down all the same, Sammy opened his mouth to respond, when a quiet gurgling stopped the breath in his lungs. Slowly, he glanced up ahead. Something was moving. Squinting, he corrected that thought. Some things were moving, almost like waves in a tumultuous sea.

Both he and Jack froze in their tracks. For all their talk of rescue, their resolve was starting to wane. Okay, maybe we should have gone for backup. Susie can last a little longer, right?

As the creatures drew nearer, the musician and the lyricist could see them for what they were. Ink creatures, small but making up for their size with sheer numbers. Sammy counted twenty at least, all of them bearing down on the two hapless employees. 

Jack screamed, his grip on the candle slackening until it tipped from his hand. Sammy just barely managed to push it back into his grasp before their light was extinguished. As he did so, one of the creatures lunged. Sammy leaped to dodge its groping hand. Summoning his courage, he brought his wrench down on its slippery head. When that gave it pause, the musician struck again and again, not letting up until the creature sank back into the ink.

“I did it!” Sammy cried, before he was promptly seized by a multitude of cold, inhuman hands.

Sammy’s vocal range was actually quite high, but the noise that escaped him somehow reached new levels.

“Jack!” he screeched. He couldn’t see the lyricist. Sammy was struck with the horrible thought that Jack had abandoned him here, maybe done as Sammy himself had suggested and gone on to find Susie while there was a distraction. Or, more likely, he’d turned tail and fled.

Sammy had predicted that this rescue would be the death of him, though that didn’t mean he welcomed it. He thrashed, his feet and fists striking out at anything they could connect with. He hissed as his fist glanced off the wall, feeling the skin of his knuckles break open. And still he kept struggling. There wasn’t much choice.

Just as he felt his strength ebbing, his foot jabbed into something unexpected. It was soft but solid and gave a faint “Oof!” as it stumbled back.

Sammy had never been more relieved to hear that voice.

“Jack!”

“Sammy!”

A flicker of glorious light marked where Jack stood. Sammy could barely make him out as the lyricist plunged forward. The rescue was made a little less heroic due to Jack’s squeals whenever an ink monster reached for him, but as Sammy felt a warm, thoroughly human hand grab his wrist, he couldn’t care less.

“Run!” Jack cried. Sammy didn’t need to be told twice. The two booked it back the way they came. Neither paused to check whether they were being followed. Only one thing mattered to them right now: escape.

Soon, another light grew closer. Sammy recognized Jack’s little haven in the wall where he worked. Sprinting past it, they leaped out of the sewers and made a dash for the stairs that led into the infirmary and out of the sewers.

Sammy’s relief only lasted a moment. Jack and him slewed to a halt, staring in horror.

The stairs were completely blocked. Stacks of wooden beams and heavy pipes dripping with ink had all been piled high in front. It would take ages to free themselves

“How did…” Jack paused for breath, “How did they do this?”

Sammy had no response. There was none. Ink monsters, in theory, shouldn’t have been capable of trapping them like this. Sammy’s knowledge on the subject may have been limited, but he’d have thought that much was true. He was wrong.

“What are we going to do?” Jack shrieked, “We’re trapped! We can’t get help! Susie’s still lost somewhere in there! We...We’re going to die down here!”

Sammy still didn’t know how to reply, but he was saved the attempt as he heard the gurgling noises approach.

“Quick!” He shoved Jack into a small corner directly across from the stairs. It was a poor hiding place, but so long as the ink creatures didn’t think to check over here, they’d be safe.

He heard them grow closer. Jack’s breathing had grown erratic, so Sammy clapped a hand over his mouth. Ordinarily, Jack would have shoved him away, but the lyricist just remained stone still, eyes wide and terrified. Sammy imagined he wore much the same expression.

After what seemed like hours, the gurgling began to grow fainter, until it faded altogether as the ink creatures splashed back into the sewer. Sammy didn’t move for some long moments after. Jack’s shaking fingers pulled at the hand over his mouth and Sammy at last snatched his hand away. For a while, all either of them could manage were shivering breaths.

Swallowing thickly, Jack spoke at least, “What are we going to do?” He repeated his question of before.

And again, Sammy had no answer.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #Sammy Lawrence #Jack Fain #Writing Entity #I love writing these two. #So chaotic.

[attllhak]

@tortilla-of-courage I flipped one of my Fancy coins and got heads, so here’s the one about Wild! (And Twilight and Time and Malon.)

This is also the first fic I wrote, so there’s also a lot of worldbuilding details here too. Regardless, enjoy!

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

Twilight really shouldn’t be surprised by things like this anymore.

He had managed to befriend a trench mer about a year ago, and after all the drama that came from that he really should be used to weird shit just, happening to him.

But, here he was, surprised.

In his defence, usually he didn’t run into other mer when out swimming.

His family’s farm was along the coastline, and there weren’t any pods native to the area (outside of the trench mer that lived in the trench a few miles out to open sea), so the only mer that Twilight had ever run into were friends of his father’s who’d come to visit.

This was not a friend of his father’s.

The most obvious detail that this was something new was that all of Time’s friends were deep sea merfolk, and this individual was very much a tropical mer.

Well, maybe a mer. Twilight had never been good at telling the difference between merrow and mer, and that was made harder by the fact that he’d never seen a tropical mer before. This person could be mer or merrow and Twilight would never have been able to tell.

The second detail that said this was a new circumstance was all the blood.

That was actually what drew Twilight over. Large amounts of blood drew sharks, and though they were mostly kept away from the shores by the local zora, it was still better to avoid large blood pools in the water regardless.

Upon approaching, Twilight had noticed that the blood was fresh, and was coming from a merfolk that was definitely new to the area.

This tropical mer had been horribly injured, the entire left side of their body leaking blood into the water around them. Long, tangled blonde hair floated around their head, and their pale blue fins were tattered and damaged, and a few on their left side were just gone altogether.

Twilight initially thought they were dead until he got a bit closer, and their eyes moved to look at him.

Twilight had jerked back in surprise, eyes wide as he took in the expression on the mystery mer’s face, which had gone from defeated to hopeful.

Twilight had to fight to remember to breathe with his gills and not his throat for a moment.

He swallowed, and slowly tried to remember how to speak with his skin.

‘Who, what, why,’ he floundered for a bit. ‘Who are you?’

The mystery mer just watched him lazily, as though they didn’t have the strength to do anything more.

After a long, long moment, and what seemed like quite a bit of effort and pain, they managed to flash ‘help’ at him.

Twilight didn’t even hesitate, moving as quickly as he could without tripping over his fins to the mystery mer’s side, gently scooping them into his arms. Once he had a decent grip on them, he looked around to orient himself, and then took off towards the shoreline where he knew his parents would be.

He didn’t know if the mystery mer had issues with humans, but he couldn’t think of any other way to help them. The trench mer really couldn’t be trusted with delicate matters like this, as much as he loved Midna, so his parents were the only option he had.

He just hoped it wouldn’t make things worse by accident.

His head broke the surface not far from the shore line, where Time was sitting in his human form with Malon.

“Dad!” He shouted, struggling a bit more to keep his passenger steady as the water became more and more shallow. “Dad!”

Time looked up, noticed Twilight trailing blood, and was on his feet immediately.

He met Twilight halfway, which is when he noticed the mystery mer.

“Twilight, what,”

“I found them a ways out,” Twilight gasped out, letting Time help him carry them further onto shore. “They’re really badly hurt, and I couldn’t just leave them, so,”

“Malon!” Time shouted. “Red potions! Hurry!”

Malon nodded and ran up to the house as quickly as she could.

Time and Twilight hauled the mystery mer up onto the shoreline, though still in the water, and Twilight crawled up to the skirt that he and Time both had to pin around their hips to shift back to his human form, since clothes and mer don’t usually mix.

Twilight hurried back over as quickly as he could, stilling pinning fabric in place as he crouched down.

Fortunately it seemed like breathing straight air seemed less painful for the mystery mer, who had taken to clinging to Time’s shirt with his good hand.

Time carefully brushed back their hair, exposing the injuries on their head. Time frowned deeply.

“Can we help them?” Twilight asked, ringing his hands with worry.

“We can,” Time confirmed, and Twilight let out a full body sigh. “He’ll end up with some serious scarring, but he’ll live. What I’m more concerned about is the nature of these injuries,”

“What do you mean?” Twilight asked, frowning as he looked over the injuries himself.

Malon came back, three bottles of red potion in her arms as she dropped to her knees next to Time. She handed him one of the bottles.

Time nodded, mouthing ‘thank you’ to her, and opened the bottle. “Twilight, support his head,”

Twilight reached out, lifting up the mystery mer’s head so that Time could tip the bottle back and they could drink without choking.

“Dad, what did you mean about the injuries?” Twilight tried asking again once the bottle was empty and they were waiting the few seconds needed to see how well the potion worked so they could gage how many they would need.

Time frowned, but eventually pointed to the parts of the mystery mer’s tail where the fins were missing. “Here, the injuries imply his fins were sawed off by netting,”

“Netting?” Twilight asked, not really following. He knew he was rather sheltered for merfolk, since he grew up on land, but he couldn’t think why someone could end up missing fins from netting.

Time nodded gravely. “Poachers use a specific kind of netting that can cause serious injuries if you struggle too much,”

“Poachers?” Twilight echoed. He wasn’t so naive that he didn’t know people tried to poach merfolk, but poachers never got near zora controlled waters, which was where he’d found the mystery mer. “What are poachers doing here?”

“I don’t know,” Time said, popping open another bottle to offer to the injured mer.

Twilight accepted the other bottle as his mother got up to go and get more.

They spent well over an hour there, crouching in the shallows with this mystery mer as they slowly fed them red potions.

After a long while, Time declared that was enough, and they sat back.

The blood had stopped, but the entire left side of the mer was red and raw still, a collection of marks that would scar pretty badly. But they’d live.

Time sighed, letting the mer cling to his shirt with no small amount of relief.

“He’ll probably need to relearn how to swim with the missing fins, but he’ll be alright,” Time said, and both his wife and son sighed. Time looked up at Twilight. “You did good, bringing him back here. You probably saved his life,”

Twilight smiled. “I was just trying to help,” he shrugged.

“Thank you,”

Everyone froze, and let their eyes fall to the very tired mer in Time’s arms. Their voice croaked and was very quiet, but they all heard it clearly.

They all blinked at each other. Apparently no one expected them to speak a human language.

“Of course,” Twilight said softly, offering one of his hands, which the mer took with their bad hand. “I wasn’t just going to leave you there,”

They nodded, squeezing Twilight’s hand weakly and offering a smile.

“Darling,” Malon asked gently, drawing attention up to her. “Do you mind if we ask your name?”

The mer said nothing, frowning softly.

“Do you have a name?” Twilight tried. Midna had told him that not everyone in the trench had names, and he knew nothing about tropical merfolk. Maybe they had Nameless too.

“I don’t know,” the mer finally said.

“You, don’t know?” Time echoed.

“I don’t remember much,” they admitted, curling in tighter towards Time’s chest. “The last thing I can think of is floating, and then he found me,” they pointed towards Twilight.

Time and Malon shared a look.

“You don’t remember anything?” Malon asked.

They shook their head lightly.

Time and Malon shared another look, and Twilight shifted uncomfortably, bringing his hand up to join the other, just so he had something to do with them. He knew his parents did this often, speaking silently through facial expressions, but he’d never been able to figure out what they were talking about.

“You aren’t going to send me back out to sea, are you?” The mer finally asked, looking more than a bit concerned. “I, I don’t want to go back out there alone,”

“Of course not, dear,” Malon promised them, reaching out to set her hands on the one Twilight had between his own hands. “We wouldn’t do that,”

“We will need to find a way to make sure he doesn’t dry out,” Time pointed out. “We do live on land,”

“We have an extra water trough,” Malon pointed out. “We could pull it inside and fill it up until we think of something better,”

Time hummed. “Would it be big enough?”

Malon frowned at him.

“Right, my mistake,” Time coughed, covering up an amused smile.

The mer finally turned to look at Twilight, marred up face twisted in confusion.

“My mother is human,” Twilight explained carefully. “Dad and I are merrow, but since we can live on land, and mom can’t live in the sea, we live on land. We can and will bring you home, but unless you happen to be merrow then we’ll need to find a container to fill with water for you,”

“I don’t remember if I’m merrow,” the mer said quietly.

“That’s okay,” Twilight smiled. “That’s why we’re talking about options,”

The mer nodded, and curled back into Time.

“Alright,” Time sighed. “Twilight, can you carry him up to the house? I’m going to run ahead with Malon to drag a spare trough into the house to fill up for him,”

“Sure,” Twilight nodded, readjusting how he was crouched to take the mer from his father.

Both his parents stood up and headed back to the ranch, and Twilight watched them go, then turned back to the mer. The mer had wrapped their arms around his neck to hold on, and was looking between the retreating forms of Time and Malon and back to Twilight.

“You don’t have gills,” they said.

Twilight tried to look down at his neck (unsuccessfully), and shrugged. “I do, but they’re closed up right now. I don’t need them in my human form,”

“Oh,” the mer said, then nodded. “That makes sense,”

Twilight stood up, grunting as he shifted how he was holding the mer, and began slowly walking up to the house. Slowly because he didn’t want to trip at all.

Sure enough, Malon and Time had set up a horse trough in the kitchen with a small amount of water in it, towels and other soft materials lining the edge. Twilight knelt down and set the mer in it, being careful to be mindful of the still only mostly healed injuries.

The trough was just a bit too small, the mer’s tail sticking out the one end even fully sitting up.

Twilight and the mer both looked at the arrangement, taking in the cramped conditions.

“Well, this is most certainly a temporary thing,” Time sighed, holding a bucket of water in his hands and frowning at the arrangement. “I’ll call Ruto and see if any of the zora have anything that can help tomorrow,”

“That would be good,” Twilight agreed, voicing the mer’s nod.

(---)

The zora did promise to help with better accommodations, but it would take a while. So the mer spent a week and a half in a repurposed horse trough.

They took the mer back out to the shore every day, and Time and Twilight tried to help him relearn how to swim with his injuries. A zora princess, Mipha, also often attended these lessons after Time had called Ruto and gotten the zora involved. Mipha was a healer, and Ruto had made it very clear that they would be looking into poaching in their waters as that was unacceptable, and wanted to make it up to the poor victim.

This worked well, as the mer took quite a liking to Mipha, and she to him.

Of course, this was also where Twilight and Time learned just how outgoing their new family member was.

Malon called him their ‘wild child’, and after a while ‘Wild’ just became his name.

It fit, if nothing else.

Even on land, Wild continually became more and more vocal and involved in day to day life. He had been very quiet and reserved when they first brought him home, probably a side effect of his memory loss, but as he got more comfortable with them he started coming out of his shell more.

He would sometimes remember random things, and sometimes they would be sad things and others would be happy, but it was never anything big, or that they could use to find his original pod.

Wild didn’t seem to mind that much. He mentioned more than once that he was happy where he was, and was glad Twilight had found him that day in the open water.

The day he called Twilight his brother was the day that Twilight decided he wasn’t going to easily let go of Wild. This was his little brother now and Wild was part of his pod. Time didn’t argue this declaration, just told Twilight to go make sure Wild didn’t hurt himself showing off for Mipha.

Wild did not get hurt showing off for Mipha. Barely.

Wild adapted rather well to the lack of fins, and eventually was swimming just as gracefully as Twilight. Which still wasn’t very graceful, but it was effective enough that he was swimming confidently.

Which is when they spotted the boat.

It was a marine research boat, Wild recognized it but didn’t know why. Marine researchers weren’t allowed in zora controlled waters, it was one of the things they did to crack down on poachers. Hard to pose as marine researchers when marine researchers weren’t allowed in the first place.

‘We should go find Mipha,’ Twilight flashed at Wild, watching the ship warily.

Wild said nothing and didn’t move, just looking at the ship.

‘Wild,’ Twilight grabbed his arm. ‘We should go,’

Wild turned and blinked at him. ‘I know this ship,’

That sent Twilight’s heart up into his throat. He couldn’t stop himself from eying Wild’s scars, a reminder of the poaching that he’d survived.

Twilight swallowed hard, reminding himself that if this was what he was worried about then he’d need to be the one to stay calm, and tightened his grip on Wild’s arm a tiny bit. ‘We need to go,’ he flashed again, trying to press more urgency this time.

Wild shook his head. ‘I know this ship,’ he repeated.

Twilight took a deep breath, glancing up at the ship and seeing people start looking over the side of the ship. That did not calm his nerves. ‘Wild, marine researchers aren’t allowed here. And,’ he trailed off, biting his lip as he struggled and failed to avoid looking at the scars.

Wild caught on and shook his head. ‘I have a good feeling about this ship. I think it’s a good thing,’

Twilight did his best to avoid the worry and panic building in his chest. ‘They still can’t be here. These are zora waters, marine researchers aren’t allowed here. We need to go tell Mipha and Ruto,’

Wild shrugged. ‘Go then, I’ll wait here,’

‘I am not leaving here without you,’ Twilight flashed.

People on the ship were pointing now, and a small boat was being loaded to lower.

Twilight was starting to really worry now, biting his lip and trying not to squeeze Wild’s arm any harder.

‘Wild, please,’

‘You’re really freaking out, aren’t you?’ Wild asked.

Twilight nodded, not bothering to hide it with how the smaller boat had all but hit the water already. They were basically already out of time.

‘Okay,’ Wild offered him, as though he was consoling a small child, which Twilight would be offended by in any other circumstance. ‘Let’s go find Mipha and Ruto and tell them there’s a boat here that shouldn’t be,’

Twilight relaxed just a bit. ‘Thank you,’

They turned to swim off just as the person in the small boat started shouting.

“LINK!”

Twilight startled, not sure how this person knew his real name, as he’d been named after his father and so they both had nicknames. Wild, however, froze.

“LINK!”

Twilight turned to look, seeing a blonde woman with short cut hair leaning over the edge of the small boat, the arm not balancing her switching between waving and cupping her mouth when she yelled.

“LINK!”

‘Wild?’ Twilight asked, shaking his shoulder slightly.

Wild snapped out of whatever daze he was in, twisting in the water to look at the woman.

“ZELDA?!” He shouted back, bubbles erupting from his mouth.

Twilight reared back. Wild never spoke out loud when underwater. Even in the big tank the zora installed for him in their house, he either flashed or surfaced to speak to them.

It didn’t even register that Wild knew the woman’s name until after Wild was already halfway to the surface.

Twilight panicked and followed.

Twilight made it to the surface slower than Wild, and very carefully peeked his eyes above the surface.

Wild had jumped up and had his arms hooked over the side of the boat, and was laughing alongside the woman.

“Oh, and who’s this?” ‘Zelda’ asked, spotting Twilight.

Twilight sunk just a bit further in the water, narrowing his eyes warily.

“Oh! That’s my brother, Twilight!” Wild waved him over, grinning. “Twi! This is Zelda! She’s a friend of mine!”

Twilight cautiously approached, trying to hide how his heart was still ramming in his chest. He poked the rest of his head out of the water.

“Hello Twilight,” Zelda smiled. “I didn’t realize Link had any siblings,”

“Hello,” Twilight said, voice carefully kept even, which was about as polite as he could manage. “You do realize your ship is illegally traveling through zora controlled waters, right?”

Zelda blinked at him, and Wild glowered. Twilight just waited.

“Well, no,” Zelda admitted. “My father had said he’d spoken to the zora here, and that we’d be able to pass through to look for Link. He went missing a while ago, and we’ve been very worried,”

“He was lying,” Twilight informed her bluntly. “If he really had spoken to the zora then he’d know that we’d found him already, and there’s no need to look,”

Both Wild and Zelda blinked at him.

“You’re certain?” Zelda asked.

Twilight lifted an arm to gesture at Wild. “How many merfolk do you know that would match his description?”

Zelda turned to look at Wild, who in turn blinked down at himself.

“You make a very good point,” Zelda conceded.

“You should probably get your boat out of here, before you get into a lot of trouble,” Twilight advised.

“Right, a very good idea. Thank you for warning me,” Zelda smiled, and Twilight could almost believe she was sincere, but he didn’t really want to do so, just in case.

“We won’t tell anyone about it,” Wild offered, and Twilight sent him a half-hearted glare. “So you don’t need to worry about getting in trouble,”

Twilight HAD planned to tell Time and Ruto about it.

“We will need to tell them that someone had lied about speaking to them about getting permission,” Twilight reminded Wild. “That could become a big problem in the future,”

“Oh,” Wild seemed to deflate.

“We don’t need to tell them who was here though,” Twilight offered hesitantly at Wild’s dejected look, not really caring about how worried Zelda was. “We can leave the ship and it’s crew anonymous,”

“Thank you,” Zelda gasped in relief again, smiling.

Twilight shrugged. “I will need your father’s name, though. For the report,”

“Oh, uh, right,” Zelda fumbled, but did provide a name.

“You should come visit!” Wild grinned. “I’d love to introduce you to the rest of the family!”

“The rest of your family?” Zelda asked.

Wild nodded. “Yeah, mom and dad,”

Zelda frowned. “Link, didn’t you tell me your parents had died in a wreck a few years ago?”

Wild blinked. “They did?”

Twilight looked between them. “You didn’t tell her about the amnesia, did you?”

“Amnesia?”

Wild slid off the side of the boat and sunk up to his nose under the water, his hair floating like spider legs around him.

Twilight sighed. “I found him a few weeks ago floating injured in the water here. I brought him home and my parents and I healed him, which is when we learned he had no memories of anything before I found him. We brought him home with us, since we didn’t want to just leave him alone in the sea. The parents he mentioned are my parents, since we adopted him into our pod after a week or so,”

“Oh,” Zelda blinked.

“I’ve been remembering things though!” Wild piped up. “It’s how I recognized you,”

“Well, I’m very glad to hear that,” Zelda smiled. “And, I’d love to visit your new family, if they’d let me,”

She and Wild both looked at Twilight.

Twilight shrugged. “Mom is human and Dad and I are merrow, so show up on land without the ship and we’d be happy to let you in. We have been trying to find Wild’s original pod,”

“Wild?” Zelda blinked.

“We didn’t know his name and he didn’t remember,” Twilight explained. “We’ve been calling him Wild,”

“Ah,” Zelda nodded. “That makes sense. Where do you live? We’ll turn the ship around and meet you over land,”

Wild happily provided her their address, and she signalled for her smaller boat to be lifted up, promising to visit over land.

They watched until the ship had fully turned and left, and then headed back home.

Wild swam up to swim in front of Twilight.

‘You won’t get her in trouble, will you?’

‘The only person I plan to get in trouble is her father,’ Twilight explained.

‘Thank you,’ Wild flashed back.

Twilight did get Zelda’s father in a lot of trouble. Ruto had blown up, and Time, despite being dimmer than a true mer, still managed to nearly blind them as he went off.

It ended with Time and Ruto swimming off, publicly and angrily plotting while off on a warpath. Time likely had the same thoughts Twilight had.

They didn’t even have time to explain that they should be expecting company.

So they surfaced, Wild slapping the water while Twilight pulled on his skirt, and then Twilight carried Wild back to the house.

They decided to start by telling Malon that they’d have company before getting to the bit about Zelda’s dad lying.

A few hours later and Time walked in, still dripping and wearing only his skirt from coming out of the water. He was cursing under his breath.

Which is when the knock on the door sounded.

Wild shot up over the top of his tank, excitedly asking if it was Zelda, which confused Time immensely. Malon went to explain, and Twilight opened the door.

Zelda was tucking a bit of hair behind one of her ears, whispering with one of the people with her when the door swung open. The talking stopped when they saw him, not unexpected considering he was a big guy made mostly of muscle before even taking in the claws or second eyelid that came from being merrow.

Three people stood around her, sheikah Twilight guessed, based on the pure white hair and reddish eyes. One of the women had a streak of red dyed in her hair, and the man had a rather absurd haircut. At least the last woman looked mostly normal. Er, at least in that sense that she was only dressed like she was some kind of ninja or something. A gerudo woman stood a few feet back, watching him closely.

Twilight just smiled, not bothering to hide his fangs since he knew Zelda was already aware he was merrow.

“Zelda! You made it! We’ve been pretty excited about you coming over,”

Zelda smiled back. “Twilight! I’m glad we got the right house. It’s a pleasure to see you,” she waved at her companions. “I hope you don’t mind, I brought a few more mutual friends of Link and I’s, since we’ve all been really worried about him. This is Impa, Purah and Robbie, and that’s Urbosa back there!”

Urbosa stepped up to the porch, eying Twilight. He got the impression she maybe didn’t know he was merrow.

“So, you’re the one who found and rescued Link,” Urbosa greeted.

Twilight nodded. “I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he offered his hand.

Urbosa accepted, eying the claws on his hand.

“Twilight?” Malon called, appearing behind him. “Is this the friend you and Wild mentioned?”

Twilight nodded, and stepped aside, inviting them all in.

Malon greeted them happily, waving them into the living room where Wild was mostly out of his tank.

Wild slipped when he went to wave, and Time reached up calmly to catch him. Time hadn’t bothered to change, but was wearing a towel around his shoulders and was no longer dripping.

“Careful,” Time warned. “You don’t want to fall out,” he said it seriously, but there was mirth in his eye.

Wild grinned sheepishly, but without shame, and slipped back into the tank.

Zelda ran right up to the tank, craning her head up to look at Wild, her companions following her.

“Link!”

Time swiveled his head to her, looking confused, and Twilight hid his snort behind his hand. Time eyed him as well.

“Zelda!” Wild grinned. “You came!”

Zelda scoffed. “Of course I came! And, I brought more friends of ours!” She waved at the others, who all echoed their own greetings.

“Twilight,” Time said slowly. “Did you know Wild was having friends over?”

“We tried to tell you when we reported the confused marine research ship,” Twilight explained. “But you and Ruto got so mad that we couldn’t find a spot to jump in, and then you both swam off. So we came home and told Ma,”

Time nodded, eying the group. “And, you’ve learned Wild’s real name?”

“Yes,” Twilight confirmed.

“And his name is Link?”

“Yes,”

Twilight’s grin never wavered, and Time just sighed. Malon burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Impa asked, eying the group.

“Oh, I,” Malon coughed, trying to reign in her laughter enough to speak. “There’s three of you!”

Time sighed, and Twilight’s grin just grew.

“What does that mean?” Zelda asked.

“I’m Link Jr,” Twilight explained, pointing. “Dad is Link Sr,”

A few more voices join Malon’s in laughter.

Time sighed again.

“I’m going to go get dressed,” Time said, walking out of the room, flicking his towel up over his head and pointedly ignoring the rest of them.

Twilight finally broke and snorted.

The conversation went very well actually, and Urbosa relaxed quite a bit once it was explained to her what merrow were. She came from the desert, and so hadn’t ever encountered merrow before, which explained the weird looks she gave Twilight when he opened the door.

Zelda promised to visit more as well, and to bring more of their mutual friends in the future, and agreed to stay for supper when Malon offered.

“Oh, Wild,” she turned on their way out, looking a bit curious and confused. “I have a question,”

“Yeah?” Wild asked, leaning out of his tank and still grinning.

“Why are you in a tank and your brother and father aren’t?”

Wild blinked. “Because they have legs,” he said, like it was obvious.

“Well, yes,” Zelda agreed. “But, so do you,”

“What do you mean?” Wild asked.

“Wild, you do know that you’re merrow, and not mer, don’t you?”

“I’M WHAT?!?!”

#linked universe #lu #lu wild #lu twilight #lu time #malon #lu flora #mer au #injury mention #blood mention #behold! mer au fic! #i have one other thing with twi and wild #and one explaining what happened to wars #and i really need to introduce legend hyrule and four #but i'll do that later #for now there is this

[otonymous]

Fever Dreams (MLQC Gavin - NSFW)

Description: Gavin lets you in on the contents of his wet dreams… Warnings: NSFW/18+:  Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings: mentions of IV lines, hospitals, minor injuries, brief mentions of trauma, Eli’s sense of impending doom, vaginal intercourse, profanity, masturbation Word Count: ~3K words (~15 mins of sweet, sweet hospital lovemaking 🤣) Author’s Notes: Close your eyes.  Imagine that Gavin is by your side — muscles flexed and lips so close they practically brush against the shell of your ear when he whispers the following:

“I hope you enjoy this fic, which was based on and inspired by Gavin’s Whispers/Biting The Ear (咬耳) ASMR from the CN server, beautifully translated by the incredibly talented and gracious @cheri-translates​.” 🤣

In all seriousness, I’m extending a massive THANK YOU to the sweet @cheri-translates​ for providing me with the awesome goods that literally left me breathless!  This fic would not have been possible without you! 💕 With that being said, hope you all enjoy it and happy reading! 🥰

👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼

It was easy to forget at times; that Gavin was made of flesh and bone like everyone else.

That lionhearted though he was, the man wasn’t invincible, no matter what he would have you believe: hiding winces behind smiles and brushing off bruises blooming blue like they were nothing at all.

It was little wonder then that when the phone rang that night, it was Eli’s voice on the other line.  And as you stood before the bathroom mirror, wrapped in nothing but a towel and watching the colour drain from your face, the stilted manner of his speech made it increasingly clear he was unused to delivering bad news.

“I’m gonna kill him when I see him,” Gavin swears under his breath, the hand with the IV drip attached pulling into a tight fist by his side.

Now you understood why.

“They’re making a fuss over nothing, keeping me in hospital for observation.  It’s just a few scratches.”

Amber eyes train in your direction, the earnestness in their tender depths melting the edge of the anger you felt at always being the last to know anytime your lover got hurt.  And when he tries to smile despite the bulky bandage plastered on his left cheek, your resistance falters.

“ ‘They’re making a fuss over nothing.’  I bet you’d say that even if you were missing a limb, Gavin Bai.”  

Suddenly exhausted by the anxiety that made you rush to the Special Task Force hospital upon receiving Eli’s call, you slump into the chair at his bedside, still annoyed but relived to find that he was well enough to laugh at your sarcasm.

“Hmm, I must be in a lot of trouble if you’re calling me by name like that.”  

Smirk spreading on that handsome face, his eyes take on a mischievous twinkle that makes him altogether impossible to resist.  You couldn’t help but think of that rough and tumble high school senior who threw furtive glances in your direction every time he walked past in the halls, lip cut and face bruised.  

“Come.  It’s too late to go home now and you can’t sleep on the chair like that.  Join me on the bed.”

Voice breaking through your reverie, Gavin holds out the hand that wasn’t hooked to the drip — large, strong and inviting.  You hesitate, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you look towards the door.  

“I-I really shouldn’t.  We’re in a hospital and there won’t be enough room for the two of us.  You, especially, need a good night’s sleep, being injured—”

Three dull pats sound in quick succession to interrupt you.  Turning your head, you see Gavin scooting to one side of the bed, hand beckoning towards the newly vacated space.  “The beds here are larger than the ones in your average hospital.  STF perk, I guess.  But if you insist on refusing then…I guess I’ll just have to accompany you in sleeping sitting up—”

Relenting with a click of the tongue, you snatch the pillow from his grasp just as he begins propping it up behind his back, sliding it beneath his head as you gingerly crawl in next to him.

“That’s my girl.”

Gavin’s whisper is electric in your ear, low and seductive in a way that made you question the innocence of his motives, wondering if he was already aware of the sensations his body pressed to the side of yours was eliciting.  His lips curve in a smile on your forehead, breath dancing hot across skin.  And when he reaches for you, the sight mesmerizes: long, tapered fingers smoothing slow along the strands of your hair.

“Eli must’ve called while you were still in the shower.  You didn’t even have time to dry your hair, did you?  Look at how wet it is.”

And though you were on the verge of telling him that it wasn’t only your hair that was wet, you thought better of it.  There was a heaviness in his tone, weighed down by the concern that inevitably arose every time Gavin thought you weren’t taking care of yourself: encouraging you with bites of the BBQ pork rice he brought in takeout containers whenever you skipped meals during late nights at the office, draping his jacket over your shoulders when you shook from the cold — having decided on form over function in a lightweight but pretty new dress worn especially to impress on date nights.

“Don’t worry, it’s almost dry anyway.”

“Hmm.”  Faint displeasure taints his acknowledgment, but you close your eyes to the furrow in his brows, unable to focus on anything other than the touch of his fingers on your skin — calloused tips tracing the line of your jaw to traipse over the chin until finally coming to rest on your lower lip.  He is so close you can feel the tail end of your exhalation being drawn into Gavin’s next breath when he says:

“I know I really scared you this time.  I’m sorry.  I was careless, but it won’t happen again.  Please don’t be mad, okay?”

Eyes opening to the sight of his, you study the specks of gold embossed in amber, beautifully familiar.  See your reflection in the dark pupils holding your face in loving regard.  Felt your heart chill at the thought of Gavin one day not returning home.  And when the sting of tears arrives to redden the tip of your nose, you turn away, unwilling to add to his burdens with your own.

“All I ask…is that you be open with me.  I know you want to protect me, Gavin.  You don’t want me to worry.  But it’s much worse to have to guess about whether or not you’re lying just to be kind.  I’m a grown woman and your partner, so please don’t handle me with kid gloves.  Let me take care of you too, sometimes.”

Staring at the patterns on the curtain drawn around the bed, you listen for the rhythm of his breath — slow and even in the ensuing silence and punctuated only by the intermittent beeps of machinery, the weight of your concerns slowly sinking in before he finally relents.

“Okay.  I won’t keep anything from you anymore.  I promise.  So please…could you let me just…”  

A hand wraps around your waist, grip firm yet gentle as he pulls you close beneath the thin sheet.  You feel his mouth on the nape of your neck, Gavin’s kisses falling hot and insistent between muffled words.

“…hold you, like this?”

Nodding, you bite your lip, barely suppressing a moan to feel his fingers crawl beneath your shirt; warming themselves on the soft skin of your belly, tracing circles about the navel.

“Seven days.  It’s been…hmm…seven days since I’ve last held you.  It’s too long.”

The last statement is breathed into the curve of your neck and shoulder, your boyfriend inhaling deeply as he buries his face into the space, the embrace around you tightening as if touch alone could communicate all the longing he wasn’t quite able to put into words.

“It was a difficult mission.  I couldn’t sleep.  And anytime I did, I would dream of you.  Always of you.  Want to know what we did?”

Cotton-mouthed, you resort to nodding again.

“Then be a good girl and turn around first.  I want…need to see you…that’s good.  In my dreams, we’d be together, just like this.  I’d have you in my arms, so close I could feel every inch of your body…how hot it is…just like now.  No, don’t move away.  I like it. I’ve got a fever, but I’m also feeling chilled.  I want your heat.”

Those amber eyes are dark now, half-lidded and veiled with lust — proof that Gavin’s increasingly shallow breathing was not an exaggeration.  It was a look you recognized; the expression his handsome face wore the moment he saw you again after a mission had kept him away for too long.  It typically resulted in entire weekends spent in bed, limbs entwined as Gavin made love to you over and over again.

Until you were boneless and spent.  

Until your lover was satisfied that he was thoroughly reacquainted with every curve of your body.

You reach for him: trembling fingers tracing the line of his brow, thumb circling the apple of his cheek.  Gavin closes his eyes, exhalation shaky as he nuzzles into your palm to lay a kiss on that, too.

“Your touch feels cool on my skin.”

“Oh!  I’m sorry—”

“No.  Don’t be.”  Fingers curling about the wrist that pulled back, Gavin gently guides your hand towards his forehead.  “It’s nice.  I like it.  But…my back is warm too.  Do you think you could help me lower the temperature there?”

Swallowing, you start to inch your hands towards the open back of his hospital gown.  Gavin softly groans to feel your fingers running along the ridge of his shoulder blades, caressing defined muscles and faded scars you had committed to memory long ago.

“Is this all right?”

Now his turn to nod, Gavin’s head drops back, accentuating the bob of his prominent Adam’s apple in that strong, thick neck.

“I’m...ah…also feeling hot here.”

Large palms fall over the back of your hands, guiding them over his rib cage until they find themselves on the hard muscles of Gavin’s abdomen.  Thighs pressing together beneath your skirt, you trace that defined V-line — touch featherlight in a way that draws out a shudder, goosebumps blooming across the expanse of Gavin’s skin.

Suddenly, you freeze to hear footsteps approaching in the hallway beyond the door.  And just when you start to pull away, Gavin stops you with a whisper:

“Don’t worry.  The nurse has already been in to check on me tonight.  They won’t be back again, unless…unless they see that my heart rate has become unusually high.”

He winks.

“Besides, if they find you here, I’ll just say that, um…I’m afraid of sleeping by myself in the dark.”

That smirk again.  You wonder at what point your boyfriend had become so cheeky, knowing just the right things to say to get his way.

“Could you help me?  I’m burning up…right here.”

Lower and lower, he guides your hands, leaving them to their own devices when they reach the waistband of his boxers.  Barely breathing, you watch as the expression on his face transforms from anticipation to euphoria the moment you slip past the elastic, fingers circling his hardened length with a loose grip.

“Officer, you weren’t lying!”

Gaze already heavy with want, the chuckle Gavin lets out in response has never sounded so sexy.  “It’s because I’m running a fever.  Or perhaps…it’s because I’m thinking of you.  Do you think we should…make it even hotter?”

You wet your lips, feeling Gavin twitch in your hand at the sight; feel the vein pulsing on the underside of that thick shaft as he continues to swell in size.  Firming up your grip, you begin to stroke in earnest, trying to maintain your rhythm despite the distraction of your own throbbing pussy, despite the way you grew increasingly wet to envision him sliding into your depths, satin panties clinging to the lines of your folds.

Smoothing your thumb over the liquid arousal beading at the tip of his cock, you draw wide, slick circles over velvet skin — paying especial attention to the ridge just below the swollen head because you loved how Gavin sounded when caught in the throes of ecstasy.  It pleased you to pleasure him — the man who never thought twice about putting you before himself.

Always so strong, always fearless, you loved to watch him fall apart.  Over you.  Beneath you.  In you.  Held in the palm of your hand or folded to your embrace.  You could feel the tension leaving his body — worn out and battered — each time he returned to your side from a mission, the trauma of all the things he couldn’t talk about seeping from every pore as you sought to show him love with the swing of your hips, the kisses you showered upon his sweat-soaked face.  With the normalcy only the simplicity of a home-cooked meal could restore.  “I love you,” he’d smile and say, amber eyes blinking once, twice…as if Gavin couldn’t quite believe you were real.  “I really do.”

“This is the first time someone has stayed with me in the hospital, let alone shared my hospital bed.” Gavin’s voice is low, thick with emotion in between shuddering gasps elicited by each tug along his length.  “Who would’ve thought that...even at a time like this…I’d be lucky enough not to be alone.”

“I’d never let you be lonely,” you say with a sudden vehemence that surprises even you.  “Never again.”

He smiles, gentle eyes glistening when his large hand approaches to cup your face.  Gavin touches you as if holding something of infinite importance, “Angel” falling from his lips in a soft utterance.

“I don’t think I can sleep tonight.  I don’t want to.  What about you?  Will you…stay up with me?…Help my fever break—”

You kiss him deeply, swallowing his words even as your tongue pushes past teeth to meet Gavin’s in reunion.  You had missed him; missed the way he tasted, the hint of mint that lingered in the breath you shared, as if your very lives were as entwined as your bodies in embrace.

To lose him was to lose yourself.  

And so, you give yourself over to the man who gave so much and asked for so little in return.

“Then I won’t sleep either.  I want to stay with you.”

Throwing one last glance at the door, you rise to your knees, skirt bunching at the waist as you straddle his hips.  Eyes wide, Gavin starts to move before you stop him, saying “Let me” as you push him back onto the bed before the IV line could pull taut.

You loved how Gavin looked at you, the artless way he wore his heart on his sleeve — showing in the pink of his cheeks, the blush creeping all the way to the tips of pierced ears.  It was a side of him only you were privy to; unguarded and unfiltered.  He watched you now, those amber eyes lit with a dark hunger to follow the motions of your hands: one pulling dampened panties aside as the other spreads glistening lips, guiding his cock along the length of your slit before you ease yourself onto his hard heat.  

Unable to stop the moan that escapes, you slide…lower and lower…until the flesh of your buttocks meets the muscular plane of his pelvis.  But the sensation continues — electricity spreading towards the very pit of the stomach to curl your spine, chest opening to receive all of his love.

Breathing barely controlled, Gavin bites hard on his lip in a bid to stay quiet, unwilling to attract the attention of curious staff.  “God, you feel so good.  I just…just want to move.”

“No, let me…let me be the one to take care of you this time.  Please.”

For the second time that night, Gavin relents, yielding to your exquisite torture even as he fought to leash the animal impulse that spurred him to rip free of the machinery and fuck you until the bed collapsed.  Hands clenching tight around the bedsheet, his knuckles grow white, as if the flimsy fabric were a lifeline keeping him from being swept away each time you lifted and lowered yourself onto him.

For everything about you drove him mad, from the tight, grinding circles you drew with your hips whenever he was fully sheathed, to the clenching embrace of your arousal-slicked walls that held him like no other, as if the entirety of you were created with him in mind.  Or, at least, it was a fantasy he harboured; to think that fate had a hand in ordaining you his sole queen, and him, forever your humble servant.

“Ahh, Gavin!…I…you’re so deep, I’m com—”

You don’t get to finish before your mind blanks.  All you could focus on was the sudden grip of Gavin’s hands on your hips and the shift of your weight forwards when his knees draw up, giving your lover the proper leverage to pound hard and fast into you from below until your arousal pools to drench those six-pack abs.

It nearly overwhelms you; the orgasm that makes you collapse onto Gavin’s chest, the contractions that hit like tidal waves moving through your body.  They spur him on, continuing to fuck you so hard the bed shook, each and every thrust hitting just the right, swollen spot to keep you elevated on that high.  And when you whisper

“I love you”

before your tongue extends to suck the lobe of his ear into your mouth, the tension building in the taut muscles of that perfect body breaks.  

You hear your name leave his lips in a deep moan, feel him leave a part of himself in the secret space between your legs.  Taste the salt of his sweat on kisses laid upon the pulse of his neck.  Waited for his racing heart to slow before telling yours it was okay to do the same.

And when his arms wrap tightly around your body, “I love you, too” returned with palpable affection, you let yourself fall into slumber…knowing that even in dreams, Gavin would meet you there.

👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼

Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #mr love dream date #evol x love #mlqc gavin #mlqc bai qi #mlqc gavin smut #mlqc smut #my writing #fanfiction #mlqc ASMR

[lizbotw]

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #happy birthday to me 🎉 #<<< the way i typed that tag so long ago and now look what day it is #extras #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #hq imagines #i accidentally deleted part of this b4 i can’t believe #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!! scenarios #hq scenarios #why did this take me so long to write + it’s so dumb this is embarrassing #hq!! x reader #suna imagines #suna scenarios #haikyuu fluff #suna rintarou

[todoscript]

I’ve had this idea in mind for a bit but don’t have the confidence to write it myself, so if it’s alright may I request some headcanons for 1-A’s big 3 (Deku,Bakugou,Shoto) with a S/O who; due to high pain tolerance gets small bruises on their legs, but doesn’t remember where they got them from cause they don’t feel it? (honestly this me most days) Btw love your writing!

A/N | My indecisive ass couldn’t decide between quick bulletpoints or descriptive headcanons so I went with a hybrid(?). I hope I did your request some justice, anon, and thank you for enjoying my writing!

Now here’s some love from our main trio! <333

Midoriya Izuku

midoriya becomes a bit worried when he spots the blemishes on your legs, especially when you tell him you don’t remember where you got them from

he’s prone to getting many injuries himself and has developed a high tolerance to pain from how many times he’s nearly blown off parts of his body with his quirk

but he knows the sensation of pain is there as a defense mechanism for your body to tell you when you’re about to hurt yourself so he wants you to take extra precaution when you’re out fighting villains or training

also because midoriya doesn’t want any scars embedded on your skin, considering he has so many littered all over his arms, hands, and legs. so if it’s possible, he’d rather avoid you having the same ordeal

“Y/n, where’d you get those bruises?”

Midoriya notices your small blemishes and points them out immediately on your way to class due to your uniform’s skirt and short socks unhindering the expanse of skin. You peek underneath and finally realize the speckle of red and faint blue blotches, tilting your head in a befuddled manner.

“Huh… I’m not sure, myself...”

“Were you pushing yourself too hard during training?” he asks and you hum off in thought, trying to recollect any memory of hurting yourself.

“I don’t think so? Well, even if I did get hurt, I probably didn’t feel it,” you reply nonchalantly. Your boyfriend takes your hand to turn your attention to him. A worried look crosses his face at your absent concern for the marks.

“Y/n, it’s not good if you just push them to the side. I know you have high tolerance for pain but I don’t want you to get injuries that may permanently damage your body.”

His other hand not gripping your own tightens into a fist, and you’re aware of the boy’s own near-irreparable blows dealt on his body due to the self-destructive nature of his quirk. He’s only looking out for you and wants to make sure you never get to that point like he did—heavily bandaged up in a hospital bed and laying there regretting your reckless actions. He hopes you never have to experience such a thing.

At his visible concern, you reassuringly clutch his hand back.

“Alright, I solemnly swear not to go overboard and take better care of myself,” you promise him and that sunshine induced smile curls back on his lips. However, the easily flustered side of Midoriya appears right afterward as he rubs the back of his head in quick succession.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to be overly dramatic or anything! It’s just I was concerned and I thought about myself and your position and I just—” His words clutter into that speedy jargon that you found yourself chuckling at before promptly muting him with a simple kiss on his cheek.

“It’s okay, I know you’re just looking out for me, Izu, so thank you.”

The boy’s cheeks burst red by the time you two enter the classroom.

Bakugou Katsuki

his instincts flare up the moment those bruises are revealed to his very eyes

the vexation is quick to show on his face and without warning, he’ll tug you off to the side to interrogate you about them

when you don’t have a clear answer for how those blemishes came to be, he doesn’t pry further since he knows you have a heightened tolerance against pain—a trait he doesn’t think you should be particularly proud of if you aren’t conscious about your injuries

instead, he’ll scold you throughout your whole walk to the nurse’s, pulling you along in a protective manner you can’t help but think of as a tender act in spite of how brazen he usually is

“What the hell?” Bakugou mutters to himself while standing on the sidelines of the track field. As he watched you jog along with the girls on the bounds of the track, the small red and bluish marks did not evade his sight considering you rolled up the cuffs of your gym pants that day.

Right after your run, you soon hear the stomp in his steps when he approaches you. “Oh hey, Katsuki, what’s up?” you greet but he ignores it, instead grabbing you by the wrist and hauling you to the side, past all your classmates.

“Wait, Katsuki—”

“How long have you had those fucking bruises?” He’s quick to head straight to the blatant inquiries, backing you up against a wall so you can’t dodge away from him. You understand what he’s talking about, but you can’t tell him for sure when or where the bruises emerged, with your tolerance for pain likely eluding them from you.

He breathes out a heavy sigh after the evidently drawn out pause. Your resistance to pain made you quite audacious on the battlefield so it’s no wonder you end up with these blemishes. Though the blonde is a bit reckless himself, he knows there’s a limit people need to maintain.

Bakugou takes your hand in his again and briskly drags you along off the P.E. field and inside the U.A. building.

“C’mon, we’re going to the old lady,” he says.

“Huh? What about physical training today?” You try to tug him back but his hold on you is firm.

“Shit like that doesn’t matter when you get hurt, ya big idiot. What if you worsen those bruises?” he chides, “Now don’t struggle. I’m taking you there whether you like it or not,” Bakugou immovably declares and you surrender, discerning the tenderness beneath his tone that you can’t help but happily grin at.

“Y’know, this concerned side of you is pretty soft. I quite like it,” you tease. Bakugou narrows the crests on his face as he turns back to look at you with his usual discontented frown.

“Yeah well don’t get use to it, princess,” he quips back, however, you lean forward to sneak peck on his cheek before he can move away. 

“Love you too, Katsuki.”

He immediately faces forward again, but the tips of his ears reddening tell you all you need to know and you grasp his hand tighter along the way.

Todoroki Shouto

the usual stoic expression he wears everyday would immediately shift into mild concern upon noticing the little blemishes on your legs

he stops what he’s doing and gathers to your side, asking about them with firm intent

when you answer that you don’t exactly remember when they appeared, he’s reminded of your high pain tolerance

todoroki sits you down, and though you tell him they don’t hurt, he still takes his time to thoroughly inspect each and every one of the marks for himself just to make sure

“Y/n… your legs…”

Todoroki walks into the dormitory kitchen, where you’re washing up a few dishes after you fixed yourself something to eat that night. The casual pair of comfortable shorts you’re wearing leaves your legs bare for him to concern over the bruises that blot bits of your skin.

You extend out a leg and gander downward. “Oh? These? They’re nothing, Shouto, probably something I missed during training today maybe,” you insist with a stiff chuckle, though you know your boyfriend isn’t one to let the topic get brushed to the side that easily.

Thus despite your words, Shouto twists the knobs on the sink to cut off the flow of water running down the dirty ceramics and ushers you to sit in a chair at the tables. He kneels before you and sets his hand around the base of your ankle to hold your leg up, eyes keen as they line down your skin. You fidget a little under his acute gaze toward your blemishes.

“Shouto, I said it’s fine. They don’t hurt or anything,” you try telling him again, but his only response is a hum, not looking up.

“From how some of the marks are fading compared to others, I can tell they’ve been appearing periodically,” Shouto mumbles loud enough for you to hear and then finally meets your eyes from below.

“Y/n, I know you have a high resistance to pain but what if these bruises get worse?” he says, worry lingering in his voice, “I don’t want you to suffer if these wounds stack on top of each other.” He runs his warm left hand on your leg that soothingly rubs the nerves beneath the troubled skin.

“Okay okay, I’ll patch them up a bit before I go to bed tonight.” You ultimately concede to the boy’s abiding stare that soon draws a grin. He lifts himself to his feet and bends down to lightly kiss your lips—your reward from him for listening to his concerns.

“I’ll get the first aid kit for you then.” Just before Todoroki starts down his path to the cabinets, you pull him back into you at the last second and astonish him by returning his gesture with your own tender kiss.

“Thank you, Shouto.”

He blinks twice in that instance, slowly regaining his leveled expression, but is now accompanied with small traces of pink.

#bnha x reader #midoriya x reader #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #bakugou #midoriya #todoroki #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #mha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #my writing

[magnoliabloomfield]

Afterlife part 1

They say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes. Things had flashed before Gally’s eyes as he lay on the cold floor with hot poison in his veins and a spear in his chest, but he couldn’t tell exactly what they were. Was it just the three years worth of life that he could remember, parts of his life before they had wiped his memory, or just some things he wished he’d gotten to experience?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t comforting so he wasn’t disappointed that it ended up being very short indeed. The pain, anger, and confusion slipped away into the blackness along with his sadness, curiosity, and hope. His struggle was over, but he never found peace.

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

“Why me?!” Madison asked with a yelp as she tried to hold the boy down. “You know I’m not strong enough to help with cranks.”

“He’s not a crank,” Fontain replied as he struggled to administer more sedatives. “He’s immune.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” she grunted as she wrestled with the boys thick arm, finally throwing all her body weight on it like an alligator tamer.

“Because no one else would help me with him, they said he was a lost cause and a waste of time and supplies,” Fontain replied.

When the girl was silent for a moment too long he flicked his dark eyes up to her for a moment.

“Do you also agree I shouldn’t help him?”

“I’m just not sure if this is actually helping him… or drawing out something painful and inevitable,” she responded quietly with an apologetic wince, as the boy bucked beneath her.

“He survived whatever trial Wicked put him through, survived them pumping more of the flare into his system, and a spear to the chest- and I found him,” Fontain, the doctor, was becoming more impassioned as he spoke and his spectacles fogged up briefly. “I think this boy has something very important to live for and I’m going to do my best to help him.”

She eyed him for a moment but didn’t argue. She had first hand knowledge of the wonders this man could work on lost causes, and the relief of being a lost cause reclaimed.

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

Death kept getting interrupted. After stretches of warm, dark nothingness there would be bright, blurry, flashes of light and sound and pain.

There was the feeling of drowning even though he was parched and dry. There was the burning in his chest even as he had chills. There was the involuntary tightening and twitching of exhausted muscles that just wanted to rest. The feeling of his limbs being held down and restrained.

But there were moments when things were dark and he was at rest, but a voice still drifted through his head. It was like a melody he’d never heard before, a song with out words, just the music. He couldn’t hold onto anything but it felt alright to just let it wash over him.

He had no idea if the things he saw were real, or at least which one was the reality. Sometimes he would see a cold, clean building with well dressed people, computers, and windows to a world that looked alright. Other times he saw a dark and dingy room, closed off from everything, two grungy looking people hovering over him. In both worlds he was getting poked with needles and being restrained, but only one world seemed to offer comfort and it wasn’t the one he was expecting.

There would be a hand on his arm, not holding him down, just holding on, and sometimes he’d hear something he could make out.

“Keeping fighting and you’ll be ok. We’re here to help you,” he heard.

Sometimes it sounded like a man and sometimes like a girl.

When he started hearing words he started getting more control of his mind. The visions would still flash out of nowhere but he could replay them, think about them, think at all. Remember.

What he remembered was everything he wanted to forget. The return of his mind was the return of his pain.

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

“Are you sure he’s doing ok?” Madison asked, her voice laced with concern as she used her sleeve to mop up another tear slipping from the boy’s closed eyes.

He lay there, finally still after days of thrashing, the bruises he and Madison wore from it could finally start healing. He had really scared her a few times with a scream, a sudden jerk of his arm catching her in the face, the strength he would grip her arms with sometimes making some of her bruises look just like his hands.

But he had surprised her too, surviving not only his injuries but the procedures doctor Fontain had done on him. He had three bandages on his abdomen now and she was in charge of changing them and staving off infection.

“He seems sad,” she added.

“Can you blame him?” Fontain asked, not unkindly.

“I just wonder what he went through,” she sighed as her eyes roamed over his face even though she’d become thoroughly familiar with it by then. “If it was worse than me.”

“Try not to think of it in terms of worse or better,” he suggested, flipping the page in his book from the other side of the boys cot. “It’s just different.”

Another tear and a whimper escaped the boy and without a thought she grasped his hand and dried that tear as well, the sleeve of her shirt having a sizable patch of damp on it.

Fontain looked up at her, peering from over the top of his book. He saw her brows knotted with concern as she fussed over their patient and he smiled to himself.

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

Gally felt the dryness of his throat first. For the first time his eyes opened of his own free will. They stayed open and he was able to see what reality he was in.

He was slightly elevated in a bed so he saw a concrete wall in front of him and a flickering fluorescent light on the ceiling giving off a sickly, pitiful glow. He was in the dingy reality and almost felt relieved. He looked to his right and hated the feeling of moving immediately.

There was a man sitting in a chair beside his bed. He had dark grayish hair in near corkscrew curls and a trim beard to match. He wore large glasses and was reading a book as he slumped to one side in his seat, his left ankle resting on his right knee. He must have noticed Gally’s movement because his eyes flicked over to him, then back to his book for half a second before he registered what he’d seen. He shut his book with a thump and sat up properly as he smiled at him.

“Ah, you’re awake,” the man said and his voice was unexpectedly kind. “How do you feel?”

“Water,” Gally croaked through chapped lips.

“Yes of course,” the man said in a rush as he darted for something on a bedside table. “Careful, go slow or it won’t be pleasant.”

Gally felt the straw on his lips and took a greedy drink of cool water before the straw was taken away.

“What did I tell you?” The man said with just enough of a smile to say he wasn’t mad.

Gally looked at him as the water ran down his parched throat before hitting his stomach almost unpleasantly.

“I’m sure you must be tired and confused,” the man said as he brought the straw to Gally’s lips again. “So I’ll go first. My name is Fontain. I found you and brought you somewhere safe. You’re with The Right Arm now, though I doubt that means anything to you. The important part is that you’re safe.”

The man paused to look at Gally as if to gauge how much he comprehended.

“I won’t pepper you with questions just yet, but can you tell me your name?”

“Gally,” he said, his voice stronger than before.

The man’s face split in such a genuine and large smile that it was almost startling.

“Gally,” he repeated. “Well, it is a pleasure to meet you. You’ve been here a little over a week, but we didn’t know your name obviously. Madison was trying out all sorts of names on you, I’ll be happy to tell her she wasn’t even close-“

“She?” Gally couldn’t help but question.

“Yes, she,” Fontain’s smile flickered just a little in confusion. “Why do you ask?” He leaned in a little bit, curiosity written in the slight creases of his middle aged face.

“In three years I only ever saw one,” Gally answered, feeling his eyelids get heavier and his words slurring slightly.

“And before that?”

“I have no shucking idea,” Gally admitted before his body relaxed, his heavy eyes closed once more and the darkness returned.

@frequentlychangingfandoms @quackquackbi @poulterjonas @crazysheeplyca @pre-google @gladerscake @neilox @thesuitkovian @carp3d1em @cottoncandy-dreamxd @emilyhadenbaker

I couldn't copy and paste my tagged people on mobile so here some of you are getting this late lol I hope you get notified and that you enjoy it.

#will poulter protection squad #gally #maze runner #the maze runner #will poulter #tmr #tmr gally #fanfic #gally imagine

[guardianofrivendell]

Oh Deer (request)

Legolas x reader

Requested: Yes! @lotr-th-nin-meleth​ asked “Hey! Could I get a Legolas x Reader where the reader is caring for an injured baby deer she found in the forest and she's usually really gruff and cold and keeps to herself? So Legolas gets all soft watching her be soft and she asks him for help or something you can choose and he's just all flustered and it's cute. Thank you xxx”

A/N: I switched it up a bit, hope you don’t mind! I also skipped the ‘old’ Westron Legolas usually speaks, to make it easier for me. Because I can do that.

Warnings: one soft curse word, mentions of blood, Legolas in love (yes, that needs its own warning)

“You are remarkably quiet today,” Legolas said to you after almost half an hour of silence.  You didn’t say anything back, eyes scanning the forest around you. Legolas shook his head. There was just no way to distract you, always focused on the task you’d been given. 

You were part of the Guard of Mirkwood. From the very beginning you had proven to be an exceptionally good fighter. Every mission you were sent on turned out succesful and with no casualties, so it didn’t take long for you to be allowed to go on even more dangerous missions.  Even though you had an impressive record, being an Elleth made it extra hard. It didn’t matter how skilled you were and that you’d showed more than once that you were tougher than most of the other guards, they still belittled you for being female. So when you were on duty, you put on a facade: stern expression, cold stare and not a sound unless you were spoken to. 

Despite your gruff facade, the Prince of Mirkwood had taken a liking to you. Not that you noticed; after all, you were too busy proving your worth.  Legolas made sure he was assigned to your group on patrols or vice versa - not that he didn’t have a choice, being Prince and all - and always suggested your name when there was a two-person job. All very subtle of course.

Today had been no different. There had been a sighting of a few Orcs wandering the forest, not that far from the palace. Thranduil instructed him to send a few guards to go and solve the problem. Those ‘few guards’ turned into Legolas and you. 

And now you were making your way through the forest, hunting some Orcs, with Legolas by your side who was desperately trying to make conversation. 

“You are allowed to speak, Y/N. It’s only me.” “Yes, only you... Don’t you think it’s rather strange our King sent only two guards? How many Orcs were seen again?” “Enough to handle ourselves, do not worry.” You scoffed. “I’m not worried, you know damn well that I could take them on my ow-” A sound in the distance made you cut off your sentence. Legolas heard it too, and you signaled him to climb the trees.

You both jumped from one tree to another with ease, until you reached a small clearance. There you could see about a dozen Orcs, most of them taking a rest, a few trying to make a fire to keep the spiders away. You signaled to Legolas to stay put, while you made your way to the other side of the clearance. 

He rolled his eyes at that. Shouldn’t it be him telling you what to do? But he listened anyway and waited for your signal. In his mind he was already planning how to attack the pack, thinking he could easily kill 4 or 5 Orcs from where he was hiding before making his way down the tree. This was almost too easy. 

A screech in the distance made the Orcs jump up and 3 of them disappeared in the woods, running past the tree you were hiding in. It seemed like the pack hadn’t been complete. You waved to Legolas, signaling you would go after them. Before he could protest, you were gone.  Why did you always have to prove yourself? He had no visuals anymore, but he could hear how your feet touched the ground. Your fight had begun. 

In one swift movement he took his bow and notched an arrow, and shot the Orc closest to him. Before he let himself drop down, he killed two more. He smirked to the six remaining Orcs and switched his bow for his two blades.  “Let us begin,” he muttered.

*

It was over in less than ten minutes. They didn’t even put up a real fight, Legolas thought.  Probably too exhausted from wandering through the forest for so long. He looked around but couldn’t see any sign of you, not even with his Elven eyes. Suppressing the slight rush of panic he felt, he began to look for you. You were tough. There was no way you couldn’t handle a handful of exhausted Orcs by yourself, he kept repeating in an attempt to reassure himself.

He ran through the forest, fighting the urge to call out your name. The last thing he wanted was to alert anything else of his presence.  “Legolas!” He halted immediately, frantically looking around him in an attempt to locate you. This was not a good sign, he thought. You knew how dangerous it was to draw attention to you this deep in the forest. It could only mean one thing... “LEGOLAS!” He tried to ignore the despair in your voice, and ran as fast as he could in the direction of your scream.  After a few agonizing minutes he found you hunched over on your knees. “Y/N?”

When you turned around, his heart stopped. Your hands were covered in blood. Red, not black, he realized.   He fell to his knees at your side, his eyes searching your body for injuries. “Where are you hurt?” Your tunic was no longer a lighter green, but stained with a dark red. He tried to remain calm for your sake, on the inside he was definitely freaking out. You didn’t answer him, and burst into tears instead.  “You’re going to be okay,” he said, more to himself than to you. “Everything is going to be okay.” He put an arm under your knees and around your waist and lifted you up with the utmost care, but you stopped him.  “Y/N, I have to get you back home. Just... please, let me take care of you.” “It’s not mine,” you said in between sobs, pointing to your drenched clothes.  “What happened?” Legolas asked, completely lost by now. He sat down on his knees with you still in his arms. If he wasn’t feeling so helpless at the moment, he would enjoy holding you this close. It felt nice. “I-...” You tried to take a long breath to calm down so you could tell him what was going on, but it only made it worse. Legolas rubbed your back softly until you found your voice again, relieved it seemed to help a little. “I-... I didn’t mean to hurt him!”

Legolas looked at you questioningly. Him? He scanned your surroundings but couldn’t see anyone.  You got up from his lap and took a few steps away from him, motioning him to follow you. He had to keep himself from taking your hand.  You took another ten steps and crouched down. Legolas heard you sniffling again.  What he saw in front of your feet, was probably the last thing he expected to see. A small deer, probably still a baby, lay on the ground. A large gap in his side, clearly your work. 

“Oh,” he sighed, finally understanding why you were so upset. The deer had definitely been in the wrong place at the wrong time. A laugh escaped his throat. You narrowed your eyes at him. Was he really laughing at you?  When he saw you were annoyed at him, he shook his head.

“Y/N you really are curious. Slaying Orcs, killing off spiders, you don’t bat an eye. Doesn’t affect you in the slightest. But an injured deer got you all upset?”  You felt the blood rise in your cheeks. Was it your fault you just really loved the forest animals? Someone had to take care of them, so why not you? You noticed him staring at you, a certain emotion in his eyes you could not seem to read. “What?” you asked him. “You’re cute... I mean-,” Legolas corrected himself too late. “It’s cute, the deer... is cute.”

You didn’t say anything back and Legolas cursed himself.  “You know what, let’s take it with us to the palace. I’m sure our Healers could do something for him,” he suggested. He wasn’t entirely sure they could do that, but if it would make you feel better...  “Are you sure we can do that?” “Of course we can, I’m the Prince.” He winked at you, and lifted the deer into his arms. You rolled your eyes at his cockiness. He was nothing like his father. 

“Thank you,” you said sincerely.  “Anything for you...”

A/N: Aaaaaah, I’m so bad at endings 🙈 I wanted something smart or funny, maybe I’ll change it later on if I can think of something. Sorry!

A/N part 2: It’s at times like these that I curse myself for not being a native English speaker. So sorry that my writing feels a little forced sometimes, but that’s mostly because of my lack of English vocabulary or because I can’t think of another way to say things and Google Translate can only do so much. So why not write in my own language you ask? Well... I don’t think there are a lot of Flemish (or Dutch) speaking Tumblr users waiting for Flemish lotr fics :)

#lord of the rings #lotr #legolas imagine #legolas #legolas x reader #legolas x y/n #legolas request #lotr fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings x reader #lotr x reader #guardianofrivendell #legolas greenleaf