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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 year

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𓅨 Dreamswept: Chapter Two

Dreamswept: In which Dream’s imprisonment brings out his darker side. Y/N’s mother works for the Burgess’s as a nurse, and after stumbling across what is hidden beneath Fawny Rig’s mortars one summer, Y/N’s life will never be the same. A darkness has attached itself to her and no matter how long she is kept from the Endless in the basement, he has not forgotten her kindness and brief moments of comfort. No, he has not forgotten, and now he craves it.

Warnings: Blood & Injury, Blood Magic (That I Made Up), Child!Reader Makes a Deal With Morpheus (Without Knowing the Consequences), Morpheus Latches Onto The First Scrap of Kindness He Can Get (And Will Never Let Go).

To Note: Dark!Morpheus/Dream x Female!Reader, Inspired by 'Claiming His Queen' by @moonmaiden1996 (Go Read It!).

Word Count: ~2.5k

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“I’d really like to know how you got in here,” You spoke as you chipped away at a corner of the glass ball with a garden trowel you had nicked from Paul’s garden shed. “I mean there’s no opening, how’d they put you in here in the first place?” The star-eyed man as you had dubbed him, said nothing as you prattled away as usual. Since discovering him down here, you had made trips down to the basement to try and break him out. But your efforts were to no avail. He was stuck in there even after two weeks of trying. At least you had someone to talk to though. You weren’t sure if he even cared to hear about how your day had gone but it beat wandering around in boredom. At the very least, he paid attention to you while you yammered on. “I tried raiding the library to look for a book on those symbols… found a book but I didn’t understand any of it. Being an adult looks complicated and boring if all your books are like that one.”

His face twitched in amusement. He never spoke but you were accustomed to the micro changes in his usually blank face as a response to your rambling.

“Like what does taxidermy mean and why is there an entire collection in the library on it?” Your face scrunched in memory of the pictures you had seen after curiously opening one of the books up. “The book had pictures and it looks gross.” Your ramblings continued as you angled the garden trowel into a better angle between the glass and steel frame, and jabbed it in. “Anyways, I got good marks on that exam I told you about. Mama’s been too busy to bother telling, but Paul was happy for me. It’s sometimes hard to tell if—” The garden trowel had hit just right to chip out a small wave of glass shards at your face. “Ouch!”

Gasping, you jerked back and slapped a hand to your face where your skin stung viciously. The man jerked forwards from his usual folded position and pressed his hand against the glass. Star-filled eyes now held concern. You blinked rapidly and prodded your cheek, feeling warm liquid dripping down your cheek. Your gaze dropped to see blood dripping down onto the magic circle encompassing the glass cage. Crimson merged into faded red and for a moment, you could have sworn that the ground beneath your folded knees shook. Another concern quickly wiped that thought away.

“Rats, I’m going to have to come up with an excuse for this,” You sighed dramatically, rubbing your palm into your still-stinging cheek. The glass had dug in well. “Mama is going to be—“ You paused when you lifted your eyes to see that the man had moved his entire body and was now staring at you intensely with his hand pressed against the glass. “I’m alright you know,” You spoke to him waving the garden trowel. “It’s just a scratch. I’ve bled before… nicked my knees and elbows a few times exploring the grounds… I’m more worried about hiding it from mama and Paul.”

His eyes darkened in disagreement and leaning forwards, you pressed your forehead against the glass with a sigh.

“I’ll get a plaster for it, I promise, probably will have to go roll around in the dirt to have an excuse for why my cheek is bleeding. Mama’s going to be so cross with me,” You stated, closing your eyes briefly to fight back the burning tears that wanted to erupt. You felt a hum of energy run across the glass and opening your eyes, you saw that his hand was pressed over the area where blood still oozed from your cheek. He didn’t look convinced by your promise, but there wasn’t much else you could do because the little timer you brought with you to time how long you had alone down there, started going off. It was time to go.

With great reluctance, you withdrew from your new silent friend and dusted the place you had been kneeling to rid the evidence of your presence. There was almost a glimmer of sadness in his eyes as you rose to your feet, but you passed it off as another reflection of the bright lights. There wasn’t much you could do about the blood that had splattered on the dirt and painted symbols. The entire way to the dumbwaiter, you felt his eyes on your back and after climbing in, you gave him one last look. His eyes glowed a soft silver. You reluctantly closed the door and started pulling yourself up.

It was a bit of a mad dash to get to the garden unseen, but you made it to a particularly rocky and dirt-filled patch and all but face-planted. Perhaps you had rolled a little too much in the dirt because some of it ended up in your hair, but it did the desired job. But now you had to go back to the manner and face Paul and mother, not a task you were going to enjoy. You probably stood in front of the front doors for ten minutes, stalling entry because you knew just how much trouble you would be in… but at the same time, your cheek hurt ever so badly. You gave in.

Slipping your way into the manor, you dragged your feet in the direction of the parlor where your mother would be with Paul, tending to afternoon tea. You pressed your hand against your oozing cheek and grimaced, trying your best not to let the gathering tears fall. You were ten, not a baby who cried over little cuts. The moment you entered the parlor, Paul sighed and your mother went pale.

“Oh darling, what have you gotten yourself into this time?” Paul gently mused as your mother hurried up to you.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed in a scolding manner. “Whatever happened?”

“I tripped in the garden chasing a frog,” You answered quietly as mother pulled your bloody hand away from your face to take stock of the damage. She clicked her tongue in worry.

“Y/N, you’re going to need stitches! Oh darling, what were you doing!?” She exclaimed. “When will you learn to stop chasing frogs and act your age?” Your lip quivered a little at her scolding as she dragged you to the butler’s pantry and rummaged through a drawer for a first aid kit. “You are supposed to be behaving yourself here, you know how important this job is to me.” She continued before conversing with herself. “To us.” She clicked her tongue once more. “You are positively filthy! You need to act like a lady!”

“I just wanted to have fun,” You whispered in a pitiful defense, trying not to be upset by the fact that she was scolding you heavily for a lie. It was also hurtful to hear that she still thought you to be so childish. Were you not being a good daughter and staying out of her way while she worked? Did you not respect Fawny Rig? (Your trips to the basement excluded). You stayed quiet for the time it took for her to properly dress your cheek.

Mother ended up having to put stitches in your cheek to stop the bleeding and the entire time she did so she spent berating you for being a reckless tomboy chasing after stars and dreams that did not exist. Her words stung. You weren’t sure when she had started demanding that you act more ladylike but it was an increasing experience. Perhaps the influence of Alex was rubbing off on her.

It was over a week before you were able to sneak out from under her watchful eye to go back to the basement and continue your efforts. While you were slowly making your way to the basement through the dumbwaiter, your mind churned in anger and hurt.

You weren’t a spiteful child, but your mother had just made you so angry by telling you to act your age. You didn’t know where this rage was coming from but you needed to take it out on something. That glass cage was a good target in your mind. When you reached the basement and harshly yanked up the door, you dropped your feet to the dirt and marched up to where your trowel was tucked away. You picked it up and went to the spot you had been chipping away at, ignoring the looks of concern from the star-eyed man. You jabbed the end of the spade harder into the glass, making little pieces of glass fly from the curve. Your cheek twinged in pain from your nose scrunching in anger. On your next strike, the spade cracked the glass, and you were thrown back by a burst of air. Your head cracked against one of the metal columns and you were knocked right out.

You were standing in a forest that stretched as far as you could see. To your left was a creek bubbling away, frogs croaking loudly. It was the perfect place to explore. Paradise. You walked forwards towards the creek and stared at the frogs hopping around. It brought a smile to your lips and crouching down, you reached out to dip your fingers into the water. Crimson dripped from your fingers before you even made contact with the crystal-clear water. Twisting your hands in front of you, you stared at your ripped-up palms that constantly leaked blood. Your picture-perfect paradise wasn’t so perfect after all. Rising to your feet, you turned around and walked away from the stream.

“Leaving so soon?” The calm voice had your head looking to your right. It was the star-eyed man. He was free from his glass cage and dressed in all black. He looked very regal.

“It’s not real,” You said simply, holding out your hands, palms up to show off the gruesome wounds. Blood welled and slipped from your skin. “Mama says I need to grow up and stop acting so childish.” You wiggled your fingers about, watching as more blood slipped from your hands and splattered to the forest floor. He moved forward to stand in front of you and leaning your head back, you looked up into his star-filled eyes. “I’m to stop daydreaming and act like a proper lady.”

“And how should a proper lady act?” He questioned. You shrugged, not knowing the answer.

“I don’t know. I’m not grown up yet.” His lips twitched ever so slightly and his eyebrow rose.

“Then why should you be expected to act as one?” He had a point. You looked back down at your hands.

“I don’t want to stop chasing stars and dreams,” You said with a sniffle.

“You don’t have to, little one,” The star-eyed man answered. He reached for your shaking hands and held them in his. “I am the King of Dreams and Nightmares and it can be my will that you dream as much as you wish, Y/N. If you so choose that path.”

“How?”

“You’ve already sacrificed blood to me, that is more than anyone else has given me in centuries. Will you give your dreams to me for safekeeping?” You didn’t know what he meant by that, but if your dreams were going to be kept safe…

“You promise to keep them safe?” You whispered. His eyes glowed with stars. “I don’t want to lose them when I grow up.”

“With every part of my being, I promise that I shall hold onto your dreams until the End.” He solemnly promised.

“Okay, you can have them.” His starry eyes blazed silver shortly before he was bending down and pressing his lips against the edge of your palms. Your fingers twitched as a rush of tingles ran through them. Then your eyes widened as your oozing wounds started closing over and the blood that had stained your skin faded to nothing. It was like your pain was being melted away. Then there was a warm feeling washing over your body, enveloping you like a blanket. You shivered.

“Keep chasing your stars, Y/N,” Your star-eyed man spoke to you one last time. The dream faded as sleep pulled you back to its dark depths.

You woke up with a bad headache that felt like someone was taking a hammer repeatedly to your skull. Whimpering, you raised a hand to press your fingers against the spot from which the headache came. Your fingers were intercepted.

“Oh Y/N!” Mother gasped, her fingers clutching yours fervently. You blinked against the bright light and tried to settle your blurry gaze on her.

“Mama?” Your voice came out in a rasp. Mother’s bright eyes which mirrored yours loomed over you, concern and grief etched deep within her face.

“Oh my darling, thank goodness you’ve woken up!” Mother continued, pressing her lips against your hand. “You’ve been asleep for days. We’ve been ever so worried!” You were so confused.

“Mama, what happened?” She looked at you with confliction.

“Do you not remember? You were in an accident Y/N/N, you hit your head pretty badly.” Mother explained, reaching up to brush her fingers over your hair. “Cracked your skull open. You’re lucky you have a hard head.” She let out a strained chuckle. “Everything is well now though darling, as soon as you rest up and get back on your feet you get to go to one of England’s finest schools in London!”

London? But you lived here in Wych Cross…

“Are we moving again mama? Did I make you lose your job?” You whispered, tears gathering in your eyes. She shook her head at your and ran her hand over your hair once more.

“No darling, Paul and Alex wish to send you to the best school England has, you’ve won their hearts over you know.” You had? But did that mean you were to be going to school by yourself? Mother sniffed and patted your hand. “You’re a big girl now, it’s time for you to learn how to be a proper young lady.” You were being sent away. Then you remembered.

“Mama, what happened to the man?” You asked, looking at her with renewed interest. “Will you tell me if he’s alright?” Mother looked shocked for a moment before she frowned.

“Y/N, what man? You were found in the basement all by yourself! Heavens knows how you got down there… but the guards found you lying in a pool of blood. You must have tripped and knocked yourself out!”

“But—“

“Hush now, darling,” Mother said, shushing you. “You hit your head against a solid metal beam, I wouldn’t be surprised if you thought you saw something.” You pressed your lips together in confusion but decided to let it be. Your head hurt terribly and your mother still looked worried. You closed your eyes and dreamed of stars and shimmering blue eyes.

Date Published: 9/28/22

Last Edit: 4/3/23

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#morpheus #morpheus x reader #lord morpheus #dream of the endless #dream the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman #sandman x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman netflix

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tonguetiedraven · 1 year

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Raven, I have a humble request. I am starved more fluff content. Y'know that thing where if you're somewhere cold, and if you get wet you should take off the wet clothes and cuddle with someone else to preserve body heat? Yeah, it would be remarkable if you wrote a tad bit of bonrin with that.

Perhaps a bit of smut, as a treat.

I was aided in filling this request with help of the fantastic @marble-wolf and it is amazing to me that with all the icy stories I've written, this hasn't really come up xD

Here's a snippet of it with a link to the full story. A bit of smut was included in that version. As a treat ;)

Cold. Suffocatingly cold that felt like shards of glass that made everything painful and tried to force Rin to inhale from the sheer shock of how horrible it was. His clothes were heavy, his boots even more so, as he kicked to try to get his head above water. Above the water that made his muscles ache with the chill that battled the cold empty feeling of the black flames that had barely touched him but still left him flameless and lethargic.

He got to the surface somehow, grasping at the edge of the ice that cracked and fell in and he was thoroughly panicked now, his breathing painful and ragged. His head frantically turned in search of the demon they'd been fighting.

Ryuuji bellowed out the last syllables of the death verse, hurrying across the ice as quickly as he dared, ducking and sliding the last few meters to avoid her dying blast of black flames, and brought himself to a stop right before he slid into the hole with Rin.

“Rin! Hang on!”

Ryuuji flipped himself around, getting flat on his stomach and stretching to spread his weight out over the thin ice, reaching forward as it creaked and groaned. His boyfriend was clawing at the water, but his movements were getting less wild, and it looked like the horrible cold of it was starting to slow Rin down.

“Babe, get your legs up for me. Get flat like you’re swimming.” He reached into the ice, snagging one of Rin’s hands, icy cold because Rin had ditched his gloves, and it was a chill Ryuuji could feel even through his own glove.

He waited for Rin to do as directed, got a good hold on Rin’s hand, and began to shimmy himself backwards, pulling Rin flat onto the ice with himself, spreading his weight out so the fragile ice had a better chance of holding him up.

He didn’t stop backing up when Rin was entirely out, he didn’t stop until the ice was no longer creaking and bitching beneath them. Satisfied that they weren’t both going to plunge into the icy horribleness below, he surged to his knees and hauled Rin upright with him, wrapping him up close as the knot of fear in his chest he hadn’t allowed himself to concentrate on flared to violent life.

Rin was a terrible kind of pale. The kind that made Ryuuji think of too many instances of Rin bleeding out and almost dying and he was shaking in a horrible way.

Rin got his arms around Ryuuji, shivering as the water poured off of him and made the ice slicker. He hid his face against Ryuuji's scarf, panting too fast and he just barely managed to not rip Ryuuji's thick coat with how tight he held onto him.

That had easily been the coldest water Rin had ever been in and its icy touch continued to trace down his skin with every trail of water.

“I’ve got you,” Ryuuji assured, holding Rin as tight as he dared, feeling the sheer magnitude of wet trying to seep into his clothes as well. Far too much icy water in this frozen place, and Rin had taken a hell of a hit from those black flames, and “Fuck!”

Ryuuji pulled back, looking around helplessly at the frozen lake. “We gotta get you outta—your backpacks gone?”

Still in the water? Rin had the tent. Fuck!

There wasn’t time to lament that loss. Ryuuji forced himself to breathe and focus. He had read the survival guide over and over and knew the steps.

“We gotta get all this off of ya before it does more damage. Come on, strip, quick” Ryuuji set to unzipping Rin’s now useless coat before switching to unsling his own backpack.

Rin's fingers didn't want to work as he fumbled with buttons and zippers and the laces of his boots (completely filled with water that he was certain had been hurting but his feet were numb now.) He shed his coat, the soaked splat loud in the eerie quiet of after a fight and he took a long moment figuring out the slippery leather of his boots. He managed to get them off, followed by his socks. He really didn't want to sit on the ice but he got his pants partially off his thighs before his hands went completely, uselessly numb. (And it burned. It was like holy water without the sizzling.)

He looked up at Ryuuji, teeth chattering, fangs cutting his lips as he tried to form words that didn't want to come.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” Ryuuji rushed, rolling the sleeping bag out for Rin to sit on so he didn’t have to touch the ice. “I’ve got—” he pulled out his spare sweater and a towel, hurriedly dabbing at Rin’s arms and chest to get rid of some of the water before tugging the sweater over his head. His spare pants followed that, and he cinched them as tight as he could to keep them around Rin’s waist before pulling out the hoody. That went on over Rin’s sweater, and he pulled the hood up to cover Rin’s ears, pressing a kiss to his frozen cheek before unwinding his own scarf and wrapping it around Rin’s head and throat. He didn’t have spare gloves so he put his on Rin’s, and gave him his spare pair of socks, doubling them up and knowing that was only going to help a bit until he got them out of here.

They were on a frozen (or partially frozen) lake, and there seemed to be a million miles of empty land around them, but the demon had supposedly been living at a sanka, so they had to find that.

Ryuuji focused on his boyfriend again, cupping Rin’s cheeks with his still warm palms and looking around. “We gotta find where she was living.” His eyes locked on Rin. “You okay for me to carry you?”

Rin nodded, though he was shivering so much that he doubted Ryuuji could actually tell. "Y-yeah." He hurriedly said.

His hands were on Ryuuji's shoulders though he couldn't feel even the gloves on his hands.

(Ryuuji was the one who got cold. He got really cold and he was giving Rin all of his warm things and Rin wished he could tell him no.)

Ryuuji looked down at Rin’s frozen things and decided he was ditching everything but the boots and coat. He strapped both of those to his backpack, put that on, and stood up before hefting Rin to his chest. He coaxed his boyfriend’s legs around his waist, pressed a kiss to Rin’s frozen cheek, and encouraged him to tuck his face against Ryuuji’s throat while he hauled the sleeping bag up and open. He tucked it around Rin in a sort of cape and let himself look around again.

She’d come from the west, so that was most likely where her home had been. Hopefully it could offer some shelter.

Ryuuji got a better grip on Rin’s thigh and back and headed that way at as quick a pace as he dared on the ice.

Rin's body was shivering too much and his face was hidden as he tried to get his flames to come. The chill of black empty flames kept his firmly quelled and his soaked tail hung limp though he forced himself to reach down and haul it up over his leg to keep it from dragging.

Rin's shivering slowly eased and he wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing as his breathing calmed and he relaxed a little as the sound of Ryuuji's footsteps changed from ice to crunchy snow. He hoped it wasn't too far because it really was too cold for Ryuuji.

“Can ya talk to me, babe?” Ryuuji asked, not liking that it was really just the sound of his own footsteps and the wind around them. He wanted to keep Rin up and alert. As alert as he could get him at least. “I want to make sure you aren’t trying to fall asleep on me.

They were under the trees now, and it looked like there was something ahead. He just couldn’t be entirely sure.

Rin was tired. "'M awake." He began anyway, forcing his eyes open though all he could see was the darkness he had curled into against Ryuuji. "Tired… get home and make curry… fuck, bet my phone is gone."

(You'd think True Cross would have a fund set aside for the many times exorcists lost their phones due to exorcisms.)

Rin was pleasantly numb now at least. The sharp feeling of cold had faded completely.

“Probably in the coat pocket and fried. We’ll harass Mephisto for another one,” Ryuuji commented as he moved around the trees. There was absolutely a building ahead and he was about to cheer with delight about that, but he was going to wait for any celebrations to see how together it was.

“Curry?” He continued, picking up his speed as Rin’s shivering seemed to get worse. Please, please, please, let there be a fireplace in there ready to be warm and perfect. “Sounds like a good reason to sneak over to your dorm.” He tipped his head towards Rin, feeling a bit discouraged by the holes he could see in the paper walls. No locks to get them back quickly. Damn it.

“Not that you’re not a good reason to sneak over.”

Rin coughed a laugh, attempting to tighten his grip and he forced his head up to grin. "You should sneak over! Curry and no studying… couldn't Mephisto have sent someone else on this stupid mission?"

Rin shivered violently, curling himself back down as the wind picked up a little. The dark spot against Ryuuji's chest was tempting. He wanted to sleep there. It was his favorite spot and the call to sleep was trying to grow stronger, strong enough that his tail slipped and dragged and almost tripped up Ryuuji before he caught it and set it back over his leg.

"And a nap." Rin mumbled.

“Oi,” Ryuuji pinched Rin’s thigh. “I feel ya nodding off. Get your ass up. You’re not sleeping on me.” They weren’t too far from the ‘house’ now. (It was in shambles but might block some elements and that was all he could really hope for at this point.)

“Tell you what, get my coat open and slip your hands in there. Use some of my heat to warm yourself back up.”

If there wasn’t a fire, they’d have to do a lot of that. He’d probably do a lot of that any way, but they wouldn’t have much of a choice if there was no fire.

Rin turned his head to get out of the wonderful darkness and stared at the trees, endless trees, with slightly dazed eyes. His hands grappled at Ryuuji's coat, getting it open and slipping his hands under Ryuuji's shirt and against Ryuuji's incredible back.

"We got up too early. Stayed up too late." Rin defended himself with a slur. "You're comfy."

"I got up too early. You slept for another hour. And it's your own fault we were up late. You distracted me with your grabby hands, Okumura," Ryuuji lightly teased. He didn't like how slurred Rin was.

He let go of Rin's back to reach for the door and slid it open, and —

And immediately felt panic grip his chest at how run down it all was.

"You like my grabby hands." Rin murmured, sliding his glove-covered hands down Ryuuji's back to grip his sides.

Rin looked back at their new surroundings and groaned at the ramshackle place that was dusty and dim and offered only some protection from the harsh world around them.

"Fuck." Rin grumbled and tried again to get his flames past the lethargy.

Ryuuji slid the door shut with his foot and decided to just be rude and keep his boots on as he walked further into the crumbling home.

“This place’ll have to work,” Ryuuji muttered to himself and moved to the center of the room.

The irori was completely frozen over. The sunken pit was covered in mostly frozen logs and the pot that had been over it was broken and rusted, and there was no hope of getting anything warm from that.

Fuck.

“Alright,” Ryuuji mumbled, mostly still talking to himself. “New plan. Right. Okay.”

Ryuuji gently set Rin down, gave his cheek another kiss, and decided he was still far too cold.

“This isn’t me getting fresh with you,” Ryuuji stated, trying to sound teasing and managing to not sound entirely frantic, “But I need you to strip again and climb in that sleeping bag.”

He tugged off his own coat as he spoke.

Rin moved to follow Ryuuji's words, trying to grin as his fangs chattered and his clumsy hands managed to get off his clothes, though he left on the socks. His legs up to his knees felt numb and he was nervous to even look at them.

"But I like when you're fresh with me." Rin giggled, feeling a little sick from the cold.

“I’m not saying it’s off the table,” Ryuuji offered, tugging off his sweater and thermal shirt and shucking off his pants and underwear before motioning for Rin to get in the sleeping bag.

He carefully piled all of those items on top of the sleeping bag, and then shoved himself into the space next to Rin. The ground was immediately the coldest spot, so he laid on his back and hauled Rin on top of himself, struggled violently with getting it zipped, had to shimmy Rin’s tail out of the way, and finally got them sealed inside.

“Wrap yourself around me as much as you can, okay?” Ryuuji asked while he tugged his jacket over their heads to block out some of that chill.

(Rin was worryingly cold.)

Rin set his hands on Ryuuji's shoulders, pressing his nose to Ryuuji's throat and wrapped his tail (damp and frozen and possibly crusted with ice) around Ryuuji's thigh. Rin's sock covered feet curled against Ryuuji's hips but Rin still couldn't feel them. He should probably take off his socks but between his feet and tail, he'd probably freeze Ryuuji rather than Ryuuji warm him up.

"I like this." Rin mumbled against Ryuuji's collarbone.

“Yeah?” Ryuuji asked, smiling a little as he fought back a shiver. Rin’s entire body was freezing. “Like naked cuddling? Who’d’ve guessed?”

He snaked his hand around and snagged one of Rin’s hands, tucking it between his arm and side so it could warm up. He brought Rin’s other hand up to his lips and breathed on Rin’s frozen fingers, trying to bring some heat and feeling back to them.

Rin closed his eyes, enjoying the new warmth and laying against Ryuuji.

"Naked cuddles with one hot rooster." Rin said, feeling his breathing slow more as he relaxed. This was nice after the shock of the water. His tail squeezed Ryuuji's leg gently, and some of the ice on the fluffy part of his tail fell off.

“You are still trying to fall asleep on me,” Ryuuji pinched Rin’s hip with his other hand before he slid it up and down Rin’s back, trying to rub some heat into him. “Stop that or I’ll make up some test for you. Or homework.”

It was entirely quiet in here, and it occurred to Ryuuji as they cuddled together and shared their body heat, that he probably should have done at least a basic check for any other demons or animals that might have made this their home.

"Keep me awake." Rin mumbled, freeing a hand to get his socks off and set his frozen feet against Ryuuji's legs. "Not my fault you're so comfy."

But he was warming up. Ryuuji was warm and smelled good and was holding him so nicely. Ryuuji's hand moved up and down his back and Rin managed a deep, happy purr that rumbled through them.

“Do you have any idea how much of a challenge it is keeping you awake or waking you up?” Ryuuji asked, laughing a little bit. Rin was a heavy sort of weight on him, and he’d always found that he liked that weight. It seemed like it should be stifling, but Rin had never been stifling.

“Guess turnabout is fair play. This is karma for all the times I’ve shoved my frozen toes on you. Better enjoy it, Okumura, ‘cause I’m gonna be using you as my defroster again after this.”

#bonrin #bon x rin #my tumblr fics #ryuuji suguro #rin okumura #ryuji suguro #bon/rin #bonfire #bonxrin #sugurorin #bon suguro #ane #aoe #aoex #okumura rin #suguro ryuuji #suguro ryuji

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i-can-even-burn-salad · 9 months

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Happy STS!

Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels? (Share a snippet if you feel so inclined 👀)

One? 😂

Let's go with "Please don't leave me."

There is nothing more fun than to have one of them (almost!) dying in the other's arms.

It's a bit long, so I'll add a cut.

Thorns

The water ran over Caldyn’s leaves and dripped down onto his bark. His fading awareness made it seem like it was moving over him, dancing in tingling swirls—even seeping into him, coursing through his limbs where his sap should be flowing. “Please hold on. Please. Stay with me. ” He couldn’t understand her words, but their meaning was so desperate. The rain had washed away her scent, and he could no longer feel her touch, so the sound of her voice was all he could hold on to. Caldyn fought to stay conscious, even though he knew it would eventually be in vain.

Heal my Wounds

“The portal will be up in a second,” someone said. Valadan didn’t bother to find out who it was. The minute it took for the portal to light up was the longest in his life. He didn’t even know if Josephine was still alive. She had to be alive. His own arms were trembling too much to see if her chest rose, but her skin was warm. Weren’t her eyelids fluttering? She had to be alive. “Please don’t die. Please. Hang on.” His voice was shaking. His arms were shaking. He didn’t dare set her down, knowing that he’d never manage to pick her up again if he did. “Please. Please, Josephine.” Then the iridescent circle appeared in front of him, wavering and flickering, not framed like the permanent ones. He looked at Anka. The nyvi nodded. “Please don’t die,” he whispered as he stepped into the portal.

Glass Shards

“Damien?” she said after a while, her voice muffled. “Mhm?” “Promise me.” Her shaking hands grasped at his shirt as she held onto him almost desperately. “Promise me I’ll never lose you.” Damien swallowed. If only it was that easy. If only he could be sure no one would ever recognize him, drag him away in chains. If only there was a way to avoid injury and illness for all time. But perhaps those possibilities didn’t matter, not right now. All that mattered was that he would do whatever it would take to stay at her side. He lowered his head to press a kiss onto her hair. “I promise,” he whispered.

(There's a better one, but that's not fun without context, so.)

Till Death

When she pulled them back, her hands were covered in blood. The metallic scent hung so heavily in the air, she could taste it. No fresh blood seeped out from under the makeshift bandage, but she knew it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough. He would still be bleeding internally, and there was nothing she could do to save him. All she could do was keep him alive a bit longer, make him suffer a bit longer, because she couldn't let him go. Eilis wiped her hand on her bloodstained dress before she raised it to his cheek. She had no bell to warn him of her touch, and he seemed too far gone to be frightened by it. His eyes were half open, his gaze not focused on anything as tears ran down his face in silence. For months, she had hoped nothing more than to see Finnian again, and now she wished she never had. What had he been thinking, charging at two men like that? For her. For her.

(The "please don't leave me" is implied, isn't it? I have another one that's an even better fit, but it's too much of a spoiler right now.)

#salad-ask #starlit-hopes-and-dreams #sts ask

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fluffyydumplings · 2 years

Text

The Tale Of The Forgotten

Gone - Part 7

Summary: Forty-five years ago, you planted a tree in the backyard of your boring old home with the person you hoped to cherish for as long as the tree would stand.. Forty-five years later, the tree flourishes - shrouded in pink when spring stays over, shrouded in green when summer comes by, orange as autumn says hello, and a dusty white as winter kicks in.. But only he remembers of that day, and of the love you once shared.. You, on the other hand, you have forgotten.. Completely and for eternity.

Word Count: 5.8k

Genre: angel!jimin x human!reader / human!jimin x human!reader (past) / friends to lovers / marriage!au / angst (lots of it) / painter!namjoon x sculptor!yoongi x fashion illustrator!jin x traveller!reader (present) / an itty bitty bit of fluff

Warnings: themes of death / car accidents / major character death / profanity / an almost punch / old age / poverty / allusions to war (no war takes place in the story) / robbery / break-in / themes of heaven and hell

A/N: Suprise! Surprise! Gone is back after four months! This chapter was something I came up with last year - and I finally get to write it.. Time to reflect on life yet again, dear reader.. I apologise for making you wait for so long.. Life was simply busy, and Gone wasn’t something I felt like continuing in those times. I thought about it frequently though, I have to say - this story is like my cats whom I cherish dearly (my sweets) after all.. One more chapter to go! :O @jayhopely ahahahha! Enjoy your shot of pain!

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Wings.. Clusters of white, not a trail of light to follow.. They lay heavy on his back, if not heavier than they were the day they were given to him as it twists and turns to cover his broken form - not a single tear or frown whispers into his jar of emotions - his face remains nothing but empty - stiff and a mere illusion to fool himself and those he is to guide.. If he were to walk past by a lake, an ocean or happen to pick up a shard of broken glass, his soul aches a little and his legs cling onto each other in anguish - because it knows just as he does, that from the day he made a deal with the person above.. his existence was left with nothing of that but his soul - he has no reflection, for he has no form. It’s all an illusion! It’s all an illusion!

It hurts.. It hurts.. And for the first time in forever, it seems he finally gets the meaning of what crying inside is.. For, that’s what he is doing.. In his empty eyes, he can see his human self heavy with snot and bleeding with rivers of tears..

‘Jimin-ah.. Goodbye!’

He manages to bring out an awkward smile for you - even if your back is turned and you’re not looking over his way anytime soon.. He likes to think that you can feel his smile.. However awkward or hardened like chalk it is..

He falls to his knees, and everything comes crashing on him.. He’s as light as feather, yet he feels as heavy as a boulder..

‘It’s over!!! Our dea-ll! It- ‘s o- v- er!!’

‘One lifetime!!! You said I was one of the lucky ones.. One of the good ones.. One of the only ones who get to choose!’

‘Why am I in so much pain then? Why?!! Why?!!’

He shouts to no one in particular.. What hurts more than anything is how stable his voice remains and that the anger and agony he embodied the day he confused heaven and hell as two (when they clearly were one of the same worlds) never manifests itself in his cries..

‘Because dear child, pain is inevitable.. You have chosen this path, you have gained a bit of contentment through it and a bit of distress through it.. But that’s how the world works.. Nothing ever thickens down to one definite form.. It’s always a mess..’

‘Do you regret your choice?’

The strange voice that has no end or start or softness or roughness to it rings in his head.. Like wet paint dripping off of an 18 by 24 inches canvas held up by a worn-off easel by the side of the broken window you forgot to fix.. Rain and hail accumulating on its surface - a storm to take on rather than avoid..

‘No..’

Angels.. Souls that wander aimlessly through the road you walk on every day to get to work, bearing a face that tingles a pang of familiarity within you - but you can’t quite put a finger on.. Lingering around, desperate to see their loved ones one last time - and to send them off into a new life just as they themselves suffer the consequences of what they have chosen.

It‘s like betting money on a game of cards, the uncertainty of getting something or anything back weighing the tip of one’s sunken lips.. To linger on for ten lifetimes or one.. Will it end up with satisfaction or regret that eases through the walls of one’s mind?

The unpredictability of what could happen or what you could witness - good enough to anchor you to a mountain with arrows of flying fire.. To see someone fall in love, and not with you.. To see someone die, their soul sucked out of them when you’re nothing but a soul yourself.. To see someone be in pain, but have no one by their side..

‘I’ve seen her smile.. I’ve seen her beam with joy.. I’ve seen her grow.. I’ve seen her soar and I’ve seen her fall.. Through it all, she remained beautiful.. That, I will never regret having witnessed.’

Angels.. Souls that have done so much good in their lives that they were given a choice.. But different burdens come with this choice.. And it’s how they make of themselves that distinguish whether it was the right choice or not.. (Deception.. There’s no right or wrong.. We just make it through and gobble our burdens up..)

‘Are you ready?’

‘I’ll have to go on with this even if I don't want to.’

A scale appears before him.. And on its golden surface laid a single feather, the other side carrying the weight of his heart.. Quickly the side with the feather sunk down - his heart declared lighter than that of the feather.. It seems his fate lies in the same train station you went on a few hours ago - as he would like to assume.. After all, having been lingering on for decades does that to you - it makes you lose track of time. It makes you realise that humans aren’t as meticulous or detail-oriented as you think they are. That clocks don’t line the walls of every home nor does every person out there carries a watch with them. The rectangle everyone carries around, Jimin never got around how it worked..

‘Angel Jimin, the trial proves you guilty of no hatred and nothing but good in your heart.. Your soul shall pass over to the borders of reincarnation.’

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The Past

‘Bailing on us again, Chim?’ the presence of his friend sparks an annoyance in him that he can’t quite explain.

‘I’m not interested in going to one of your parties, Hyun,’ the studded jacket that wraps around him all of a sudden sticks to his skin uncomfortably - he knows he looks good in it - but it was far from the man he was. From the tough material that makes it awfully difficult for him to move around to the hazardous spikes that surround the piece of fabric - it was everything that did not define him as a human being.

Park Jimin was a soft and delicate man that found himself in beautifully-coloured flowers and auburn sweaters that hung off of him loosely - showing off his sculpted collar bones and delicate skin. His definition of strength did not lie in phrases printed over t-shirts: ’Strong Like A Man!’ ‘Man Up!’.. He found it stupid.. disgusting.. disturbing..

He found strength in giving those around him strength - whether it was through words of encouragement or a simple show of respect. Like the way he smiles at the woman who works at the record store a few blocks from his house, patiently waiting for her to find the track he wanted - not expecting her to bow at his feet.. One: because he was physically male.. Two: because the customer is always right.. To be treated kindly and with no harsh remarks. It made feel her comfortable - and therefore, it made him feel comfortable..

‘Chim..’

‘What are you doing here?’ he freezes, a mountain of freshly shaved ice in the process of crumbling down into a path of dirty water.

He looks around - to the side, to the front and to the back - a sigh of relief dancing at the tip of his dirty blonde locks (dyed a dashing hot pink at the ends) as he spots the familiar black shirt he’s grown familiar to through frequenting the store. He mouths over to the woman who works there to leave his record on the counter. A reassuring smile with hints of shame washing him over, a surfboard splashed in the condescending cold waves it is surrounded by.

‘Was wondering where you went instead of joining in on us. Someone told me you were here often.. So, I decided to drop by,’ his permed hair sticks out as the bright sunlight simmers its way through the thin orangeish-red curtains that drag aimlessly across the floor - but what stands out more is the disrespect that compresses itself into his fingers that harshly stroke against the records displayed on the wall. Completely disregarding the devotion and love put into making each and every one of these discs. In his head: ‘Boring old PVC.. Nothing fascinating..’ - absolute fucking mama’s boy - hasn’t grown up mentally out of diapers.

Hyun makes Jimin fizzle up to a boil, hands shaking like he’s had tremors for forty years (longer than he has lived). And this might be it, the day Jimin gets enough of his barbaric and obnoxious behaviour.

‘Lady! Get me all of your best-sellers and bring it back over here in two minutes.’

He’s had enough..

That’s right, you’re the woman who works at this record store. You’re the woman who wears black even if the sky is at a blazing 38 degrees Celsius outside. You’re the woman who shares a popsicle with him and sometimes a hot cup of tasteless tea. You’re his person.. A very precious stroke of black that completes him - makes him whole and constantly reminds him to be true to himself.. (You’re a person he holds close to his heart..)

And beyond that - you’re sweet.. sugary.. and everything nice.. From the way you write thank-you notes for everyone that enters and leaves this shop with a purchase (whether they’d end up throwing it away along with the bag it came with or crumbling it into a trash can somewhere - it did not matter much to you) to the way you never hesitate to buy out the old lady’s, who sits by the side of your shop every 2 to 6 pm, stock of bean sprouts (just so she could leave early and have something to eat for the night)..

You’re an angel.. An absolute fucking angel.. (Thinking back to the present, he hopes you never become an angel.. All there is to it is a lingering bittersweetness that resembles what happiness in the real world could be and a crapload of pain.. It’s a path he hopes you avoid at all cost)

‘Lady.. Hurry up!’

That-

He..

That-

That bastard..

No one should ever talk to you in such a .. No one.. Absolutely no one!

He’s had enough..

The tissue that you handed over to him after your impromptu meal of Kimchi Jeon (pancake) crumbles and dissolves into the wrath of his fists. He’s furious and fearful all at the same time - his jaw tensed as the palpable anxiety that shakes a room when tree branches tear through the delicate ground of a newly bought canvas.

He estimates the distance between him and Hyun, glances up and down and calculates the angle at which his fists would do the most damage.. He hardens his fists, grinds his teeth together and smiles sardonically - eyes a pearl of faux happiness formed to protect himself from the consequences of his not-yet-to-happen action - that he is ever so well aware of, but chooses to ignore.

He sees it, he feels it.. Four stitches - one on the right cheek, two on the chin and another one two cm away from the left eye. A broken rib-

He can already taste the metallic red that will soon ease its way onto his tongue.. Bastards like him deserve to feel death but not truly die...

His fists harden even further.. Is that even possible?

Bastards like him deserve to burn with every breath they take.. Bastard like..

He lifts his hand, and aims where he thinks it will hurt mos-

‘Don’t do it, Chim,’ your frail voice wasn’t one of fear or fright, but of concern and care.

For every stitch and every hit would be another cent deducted from your shared bank account.. For every extra punch, the possibility of Jimin ending up behind bars increases. For every extra glare, the further your husband will get away from you..

‘Sorry..’ he whispers to you..

All it takes is a brush of your fingers against his shoulder blades for him to free himself from the restrains of anger that his feet were one held back by. You were an easel that shaped the strings of hemp fibre bandaged over his feet into flower petals of calm. In a way, no one else can or would, like soft soap carved away through the tip of a seeding knife dipped in a vessel of lukewarm water.

‘Ya, dude.. There’s literally a section that says ‘best-sellers’ on it.’

‘Oh! You’re right..’ with heavy footsteps, he follows the devil.

‘Ya, Park Jimin! This place is pretty cool!’

‘Ya, dude.. Now that you know this place, I’m going somewhere else!’

‘Park Jimin.. You’re ever so cruel..’

‘Well.. Find your own record shop to scavenge then.’

‘My oh my.. There’s no need to get heated, is there?’ arrogance shook off of him, ‘This place isn’t even all that fantastic anyway.’

“This place isn’t even all that fantastic anyway.” He finds himself repeating that same sentence over and over again in his head, in a ridiculously deep and sarcastic tone.

‘This place isn’t even all that fantastic anyway?’ a frown nuzzles into the sharp edges of his cheek.

‘This,’ he mixes.

‘Place,’ and mixes.

‘Isn’t even all,’ and mixes.

‘That fantastic anyway,’ having the arrival of the deep shade of purple, he has desired from the very beginning, at the tip of his nose.. he gently dabs a bit of the glossy substance onto his index finger, transferring his prints onto the canvas before him..

‘Woah.. The flowers are now- Alive..’ your jaw drops as you place a cup of soy milk onto the table to his left; for him to savour on once he feels like taking a break. (your kitchen still smells of soy and sugar.. It warms your heart and reminds you of your Taiwanese friend back from high school.. You have to admit.. Soaking and grinding beans up with water is the most unexpected plot twist of your life.. - you kind of like it though..)

‘They are.. Aren’t they?’ the crinkle of his eyes, and the gold that struck them.. he was filled with passion; so much passion to quiver above his fingers.

The smell of fresh paint kisses the yellow walls of the ventilated room, the sunflower painting (inspired by van goh’s “vase with fifteen flowers”) that hangs from a nail poorly hammered through the wall.. The herringbone tiles that threaten to crack with every creak of your shoe’s sole, the lilies that blossomed beautifully against the elongated stone pot placed against your window’s sill (no longer a wilted row of death thanks to the bottles of water you have saved up from washing rice)..

‘Why lavenders?’ your hands are placed on his shoulders, as you gently sink into the top of his head - placing a feathery kiss, in which he smiles at..

‘Lavenders grow well in poor soil.. It reminds me, that I can- no.. we can thrive regardless of where we are or who we are..’

‘Lavenders thrive in soil that is poor

It grows

Like you and me

We grow

It grows

It grows,’ she sings..

‘Maybe, we are two lavenders dancing on the ground

Wilting

Crying

Dying

But always, growing

And always alive

We grow

We’re alive,’ he sings as she continues strumming at her guitar.

Approaching slowly, Jimin’s fingers slowly place a penny into the hat tipped upside down on the floor beside them. He could barely make it through a day without his stomach grumbling four times.. His dirtied and scuffed sneakers and worn-down-at-the-seams jeans were a reminder of that, yet he smiled when his pocket was emptied of one single penny that could have bought him a red-bean-filled fish-shaped bread - steadying his stomach for the rest of the day. Jimin had nothing, but he was willing to share..

‘Quite the poet there, Chim.’ you boop his nose, and he attempts to do the same; you end up with purple on your nose.

‘Park Jimin!!’ with your bare hands, you drag across his paint palette.. thrusting the paint you manage to get.. at him..

He covers the canvas with a clear plastic wrap, and reaches for the same paint palette.. you don’t let him have it..

‘Ha!’

‘Well.. Take this!’ the wet paintbrush he gets his hands on flings paint into your hair..

‘Ahhhhh!!!’ you smear paint on his cheeks, running wildly like a puppy being startled by the sudden outbursts of fireworks going off.

*the sound of a tap turning on*

‘Well, that didn't end up well..’ you slosh your hands up and down in the water, ‘And what’s with this unicorn barf bath bomb..’

‘Freebies..’

‘Woah.. Where do you get free bath bombs from..’

‘The stall next to our house.. They always give away their leftovers for the week to people who live nearby.’

‘How come.. I never knew this?’

He finds it cute.. How your face relaxes and your mouth hangs open ever so slightly.. Like a kitten met by a measly ball of yarn, amused and taken with delight - the type that has its eyes blinking with rapture and bliss..

‘Poof,’ Jimin splashes water right onto the tip of your tongue - soap might smell sweet, but to taste.. it is bitter.

‘Jimin,’ you seem taken back by surprise, your mouth now wide open.. eyes a big crystal ball of shock and ‘how dare you!’.. But, you’re not mad or a tiny bit angry. You find it hard to do so when his hands shake with amusement and bubbles of laughter erupt from his chest - voice now strained and raspy due to how much he laughed today.

You find it so hard for a little flake of annoyance to cling onto you, even as you accidentally gulp down a spoonful of orange blossom soap diluted by water. (You’re going to have to go for cherry blossom soap from now on)..

‘Ha!’

‘Take this!’

Cherry Blossom Soap it is!

As he reaches for the basin floating statically against the waters of the bathing tub, you yank his arms and bundle it around yourself (the filling of a dumpling wrapped in between that of an egg wrapper.. Folded into a package of warmth), head resting on his shoulder as he pouts his failed vengeance away..

‘Life.. Is a cycle of two things.. Pain and- Joy.’

The day before ended with joy - the hoot of a wild owl as its head turns like that of a clock running out of batteries.. the blossoming of a primrose, growing further and further with every moment that the sky bleeds with cobalt - beauty in the minds of humans who find great significance in what meets the eye..

‘Jimin-ah.’

‘Hmm..’

The stars continue to twinkle as you both lie flat on the damp grass, unafraid of getting your clothes wet.

‘Do you think we’ll make it out of this shitty town one day?’

‘If we both continue to work our asses off, maybe..’

You flip yourself over; so that you are lying flat on your stomach as your feet levitates in the air and your head rests on his lap.

‘One.. Two.,’ you point at every star that comes into view, and through it all.. You both smile.. ‘Three.. Four.. Fi-’

The day after started with joy - the egg man raising his voice to sell his day’s worth of eggs.. the morning dew that saunters elegantly down the leaves of the apple tree standing lonesomely in front of the bakery’s doors.. the smell of freshly baked egg tarts - sweet, buttery and inviting..

‘One Strawberry meringue pie..mmmm.. And-’ he pauses for a second, ‘And one walnut pie..’

‘That would be xxxxx won.’

Bills left on counters, hurried steps and shameful looks..

He couldn't be bothered though..

‘Thank you!’ he leaves with the sweetest treat he could ever afford.

‘Chim.. This-’

And he gives it to you.. Because you’re the sweetest human he has ever known..

‘Happy birthday, my sweet.’

‘Oh, Jimin! You’re so terribly sweet..’ tears of joy drip from your eyes - pearls that form from that of a mermaid’s sorrow.

They say joy comes easily to those who have been deprived of it..

‘I love you,’ you collapse into a hug, and Jimin is starting to think he might have accidentally dropped a few crumbs of pie crust into his eyes.. Because, is it just him.. Or is it getting hot in here?

You’re not a dramatic bunch.. When your daily meals sometimes consist of nothing but rice and water or the occasional dash of vinegar and soy sauce though.. Anything is everything..

The afternoon that arrived shortly after came with tangles here and there in its hair - water bills, electric bills...

‘And on such a joyous day,’ your instantaneous withdrawal of breath does not go unnoticed. There could be an umbrella drenched in honey and swarming with bees slumped over your sorry head for all heaven’s know.

‘Give that to me,’ he pesters for the sheets of paper that have your names scrawled across it, along with that of doom’s - might as well staple your joint will on top and include the bills for your headstone underneath everything else (on second thought, you’ll just get washed away by the sea or turned into trees once you die.. It’s better to give whatever of your measly bank account to charity, and that one plot of land you own to anyone who is willing to take it.. Can anyone do anything with a piece of land that is shaped like a fucking scalene triangle though? Probably.. But, does anyone really want to?)

Your pockets might have emptied to a lightweight of nothing, however- nevertheless- regardless of that, the river by the bridge you cross by to work every day still flows the same and the gravity that is holding everything in place never falters. Your hearts cracked into pieces that are unperceivable through the eye, eroded into a handful of soil - only for an onion plant to spring up in a patch of asparagus.. Oh, what the unfortunate stalks of green have to bear.. Misery comes in a circle of terribly bonded string, you being both the victim and the victimiser.. Onions and Asparagus tastes good in a soup together, on soil.. on the other hand.. the latter that begins with a sweet sweet letter A is stunted in growth.. The same way the world is stunting your growth and his..

The afternoon that you were sitting miserably through was a tangle of greased up and loose ends of battered hair.. Tangles can come loose with the help of a brush.. Grease melts away with a little bit of shampoo.. Jimin was both of those things..

Your money may never return (oh, if only it had legs.. Would it walk back to you if it did?), the same way many never do after being drafted to war.. The thing is.. Joy comes and go.. And so does pain.. (And so does money.. Although it never feels like it)

A picnic under the willow tree overflowing with matcha green leaves, honey dripping from your chin as you munch on a bunch of rice cakes dipped in cheap translucent honey (you doubt much of it is honey, the rest presumably being sugar, water and yellow dye)..

‘Banana milk?’ he pokes a straw through the aluminium film that wraps over the top of the tiny plastic bottle - the good stuff for you, water for him.

‘A sip,’ you push the straw in between the softness of his lips.

‘My hands are shaking.. Take a sip already,’ you watch him with anticipation, smiling once he gives in.

‘I don’t even like banana milk..’

‘Liar.. You love banana milk..’

He can’t lie when it comes to you..

‘Fine.. I do..’

A playful knock to his head with the power of your first..

‘You idiot.. You should have bought one for yourself too,’ you end up stretched out on his lap, head resting on the sharp of his collar bone.

‘Idiot,’ another hit, ‘Idiot..’ theatrical sobs and whines from the top of your lungs.

‘Only for you, sweet..’ you get off of him and begin staring down a ladybug, giggling every time it moves.

‘Gross.. What are you? My knight in shining armour? Prince charming?’

‘And they say chivalry is dead.’

‘Park.. Don’t start pulling chairs for me.. I’ll divorce you,’ you point at him, a teasing glare that reflects on the grass below you.

‘Aye.. Aye.. You can’t get rid of me that easily!’

‘Or maybe.. I can,’ you toss an ant at him.

‘I’m not afraid of bugs, sweet.’

‘Chivalry is dead.’

‘Park Jimin is dead.’

‘No... Jiminnnn.. Nooooooo!’ you take this chance to attach your lips to his.

‘I- sweet, chest compressions.. Chest compressions... Mouth to mouth CPR is what people do in movies.’

‘Let’s do what they do in movies then!’

‘Sweet.. Are you running a fever or what?’ he presses his palms against your forehead, and there it melts - it melts to form a bubble of love.. You could choke to death and peacefully die..

The night that sunk in felt like moths swarming an empty street’s flickering lamp, damp roofs dripping with water and flattened car tires running down a slippery road.. You felt as though you were trapped in a world run by superheroes.. A marvel movie with flying colours, but everything was splattered in varieties of crimson red - if anyone could bleed crimson red. You were no hero with powers that could zap trees and villains with melancholic yet seemingly depressing backstories, nor were you given the benefit of a cool headquarter to reside in.. You were a bystander to crime - living diagonally to it, either a witness or a sufferer in making.

If anyone told you that you were to one day be obligated to drive in the dark (chocolate peanut butter cake that Jimin asked a friend to help make still heavy in your stomach), expected.. No- required to go pick up the pieces of what was left of your boss’s broken-in record shop.. You would have started laughing maniacally then proceeded to launch a bucket of fries (in and out, animal style fries.. The one with the heavy but tasty sauce, grilled onions and melted cheese) at whoever this person was..

One, because.. Who in their fucking right mind would choose to rob a record shop that had nothing but old vinyl records and fake flowers to offer? From the notes with sweet ‘thank you’s and ‘you made my son’s birthday special,’ that sticks to the display window to the silly ‘We Are open’ sign that had (around the letters) a few eight notes, quarter notes and whole notes scribbled in black dry erase marker. Anyone could tell, with a single fucking glance.. That this shop was operated on customer service and a fondness for music rather than making money from scamming a bunch of twenty-year-old jazz lovers and rock and roll enthusiasts.

You were fuming mad, and even though you could have politely declined.. Mr Song, your boss of two years was too sweet of a man to let down. In fact, he never asked for you to go check for him.. It was you who volunteered.. ‘Are you sure? Today’s your birthday, Y/N.’ The old man deserved to sleep peacefully at night. ‘Maybe, I shouldn’t have told you.. You’re way too nice..’ ‘Boss.. I will do it!’ ‘Are you sure? You should be enjoying a warm meal with your husband!’ ‘And you should be sharing a warm meal with your wife! Plus, I already ate.’ ‘Fine.. You can go..’ ‘Aha!’ ‘Don’t aha me young lady.. Be careful.. Drive safely..’ ‘Okay, dad.’ ‘Mhmm.. Drive safely.’ ‘Silly girl,’ a feminine voice. ‘My wife says-’ he’s cut off. ‘Drive safely, you silly girl..’ ‘Thanks, mom.’

At last, you could say your last moments were peaceful.. Saving the people who were the parents you never had.. A nice dinner with your husband..

‘I swear.. They keep on playing that song,’ you scoff, staring at the red that glimmers on the traffic light’s surface.

Two, because.. Driving at night always scared the living hell out of you.. Yet, there you were- driving at night, nothing but the radio to get you through the night. Hands on the wheel and silence walking past the streets.. A speck of dust could have glided across the zebra crossing and you would have noticed - that was how empty it was..

‘Ajaaa.. Let’s go,’ you spoke to yourself in a very deep and exaggerated voice.

In a way, you were glad it was you and not any of them.. Ms Song who would send side dishes your way, afraid you would have nothing to eat.. Mr Song who helped you bargain your way to getting your car for a more reasonable price - the old thing.. The same one that flips over as an unexpected truck makes its way through, its driver fumbling over the troubled brakes..

Case: Hit and Run

Would anyone want to disintegrate into nothing but a distant memory though? You never intended to die that day, yet you did.. ‘Why fear death?’ Because, that break-up from ten years ago wasn’t the end.. nor was you accidentally tripping over your boss on the first day the end.. You felt embarrassed and felt as though your world was coming to an end.. Death is ‘the end’ though... The real end.. Never mind what happens after death or how liberating it is to some.. With death, you never get to see Jimin’s finished painting.. With death, you’ll never get to feel how large (pfftt.. Small) his hands would be overlapping yours.. With death, everything comes to an end. A full stop to your tragic tragic life..

‘Why fear death?’ It doesn’t fear you.. That’s why..

We all are bound to this distant full stop.. That’s why it’s scary..

‘Are you acquainted with Ms Y/N?’ a voice as bitter as grass flows away.

‘Ye-’ and at that moment, his phone drops.

Crashing.. The city of Guernica bombed.. Destroyed and in ruins of outrage.. The painting by Picasso.. Jimin felt like the crying horse in grey and the screaming woman in white.. He sometimes felt like the light bulb that looked over everything.. He sometimes felt like the blank canvas before it was drawn on.. He was a mess.. An absolute mess..

Jimin was a finger-painter by heart, lulled in by the colourful array that would spread across his canvas and the happy images that met him whenever he were to look up. Was never into cubism, found it dull no matter how vivid the choices of paints would be. Yet, Guernica managed to enthrall him.. Everything about it was so depressing.. The thought of it made you frown and your eyes wet and your stomach churn and your mouth part in horror.. Yet.. He found happiness in it - the pain of war there to warn and remind people of the dreadfulness that came with such madness. A reminder.. A hope that no more is to come..

‘No-’ his voice was hoarse and constricted with fear.

Park Jimin..

‘Jimin, dear.. Old lady Lim asks of you..’

Twenty-seven.. Park Jimin was one for joy and anything that had to do with it.. Graduated with a doctorate in nursing, and played the role of a kind and caring helper for many years to come - and to today..

It is rare.. or shall you say odd, to see a man stand in a position as such - considering most would aspire to do greater things.. Like, take up being a doctor or surgeon.. It is a field that within the first mention takes you to white beds and women in pink uniform.. Jimin thinks outside of that box.. He takes pride in his work.. He takes pride in staying by a patient’s side, a certain comfort to their lonely and ill hearts. He takes pride in calming a person down and helping them do the things they no longer can do.. In the same way, he provides comfort to them.. He provides comfort to himself..

‘Sweet, I was never fond of death.. Neither were you,’ dressed in black, red blooming beneath his star-like eye... he sobs quietly..

‘Everyone hates death.. Don’t they?’

‘Kitty.. Come here,’ in his lap the orange ginger cat purrs, living its own world of tuna cans and cat nibbles.

‘You hate death too.. Don’t you?’ his hands continue to stroke the feline’s fur.

‘I knew it.. Who in the fucking world would like such a terrible thing?’

Limbs paralysed with pain, his chest tightened..

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

‘Hwa-Young shi (an honorific used for people you are unfamiliar with.. usually used in terms of Ms or Mr)!’ his eyes beamed, his head not arranged the way it was thirty years ago.

‘Look.. Look, isn’t she beautiful?’

‘Ineed she is, Mr Park.’

All the young nurse could do was smile.. She was meant for greater things, but here she ended up..

‘Her name’s Y/N, she’s my wife.’

‘Do you want me to tell you about her?’ he smiled, he smiled.. for a second, he wasn’t old or cranky.. He was a twenty-seven year old boy who had eyes for no one else but his beloved..

She didn’t answer, he simply smiled.. The same stars missing from the constellation in his eyes returned to where they are meant to be..

‘She was beautiful! She had a heart of gold! She always wanted to visit many places! Oh, how I wish I could have brought her all around the world! Instead, we were trapped between four walls.. Confined to our homes, tied to our jobs.. We were poor.. Very-’

‘Oh! But, you know.. My sweet! She was- she never let that define her as a person or change that heart of hers! She’s so precious! She’s-’

‘Oh- she’s my-’

*crash*

‘Mr park! Mr park!’

‘We have an emergency!’

Jimin would live to be 57, he wouldn’t live to land on the moon nor would he live to the times where phones would travel oceans and miles beyond where it is in a person’s hands.

Jimin would retire at 40, find out that he has a terrible heart condition at 45 and- One day, he would choose to witness you live a life without him - a new one - with a different name, and different people by your side.. Even if it is painful, and even if it is that you have no recollection of him...

Jimin’s lived a happy life, and he’s happy to witness yet another one of yours - even if it ended in tragedy..

I guess, this is goodbye..

‘She was an angel..’

*beep*

Do not fear though.. for all endings have beginnings..

The Cherry Blossoms of Fortunes Welcomes You

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whumpshaped · 2 years

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yO, maybe pumpkin's clothes are so covered in blood and all that wet met (as drying on their body) is getting them shivering (maybe feverish). Seth does not like the idea of their toy dying or having to deal with medical asintance, so they undress whumpee and land over one of their own t-shirts. It's obviously big af on pumpkin (like a dress) but it'd fit. Pumpkin gets deligthed by the "kind actions" of their master. yada yada How does that sound?

im FINALLY getting around to this DEAR GOD im so sorry for the wait friend

trigger warnings: conditioning, pet whump, choking, intimate/creepy whumper, creepy comfort(?), blood loss, aftermath of torture, emotional/psychological whump

They were drenched in their own blood. Their clothes were completely soaked, and while it was warm when it was still fresh, the cool basement air quickly made Pumpkin shiver.

They were cold.

They couldn't really sleep in these conditions, and when the door finally opened in the morning, they were happy to at least have some company. Limbs trembling, teeth chattering, they tried to push themself up to show how eager they were to be let out and played with, but they collapsed back onto the floor.

"Oh my..." Seth walked over to the small cage, leaning on top of it. "You don't look too good. You might've lost a little too much blood." Pumpkin whimpered in response, making Seth kick the cage. "Shut up. It's annoying enough to listen to you wheezing, I don't need you whining on top of that."

Pumpkin curled up silently, trying to conserve what little warmth they had left. Did Seth only come downstairs to mock them in their suffering? To make it worse? Maybe he came to take even their shirt away and let them freeze. Maybe he was about to cut them up even more, bleed them dry.

Seth let out a heavy, dramatic sigh. "I guess I can't just let my new little toy die on me. Not so quick at least. Come on, out."

Pumpkin was stripped of their clothes, their shivering only intensifying as Seth brought them upstairs for a... a bath? "S-Sir...?"

"I can't give you clean clothes while you're such a mess."

Right, of course. "Tha- thank you, Sir..."

"Not yet. I might get bored halfway through." They put Pumpkin in the tub, carefully adjusting the water temperature so as not to burn them.

Pumpkin felt like they were in Heaven. Seth scrubbed away all the blood from their body, he even washed it out of their hair, and god, the way those fingers felt on their scalp... their eyes fluttered closed against their will. It was so good. They never wanted it to end. They didn't deserve it, they knew, they were a bad, useless pet for needing such special attention, but at the same time it felt so good, it was impossible to resist.

They didn't even notice as Seth's hands traveled lower, not until they felt the pressure around their throat. Their eyes snapped open and they tried to pull away, but Seth held them back, tightening their hold and causing their breath to hitch.

"I love how vulnerable you get around me," he whispered, and Pumpkin tried to relax. It was okay. If they didn't struggle, Seth wouldn't hurt them. Right? He didn't bring them upstairs and wash their hair just to strangle them right after. Right? "I'm holding you captive and yet you act like you're at a spa."

Pumpkin's mouth fell open and they let out a breathless keen as his grip tightened even more, but they forced themself to stay still, to be good, to be a good little pet. They reminded themself that their owner had every right to take their life away whenever he wanted.

"It makes me want to betray that stupid trust, break it and stomp on the shards."

Their fingers twitched with the urge to grab onto Seth's wrist and try to pry it away. Still. Stay still. Be good.

Pumpkin gasped for air when Seth finally let up, coughing and aggravating every single wound on their body. They didn't know whether they were allowed to thank Seth for letting them breathe.

The rest of the process was delightfully uneventful, in Pumpkin's view. Seth had dried them off, hair and all, before carefully patching them up. It was so uncharacteristically tender and intimate, they could barely believe it. And then, to top it all off, Seth had given them a shirt from their own wardrobe.

"It'll be way too big for you most likely."

It was. Pumpkin felt almost lost in it. They could pull their knees up to their chest and hide in it, be completely surrounded by their owner's scent.

"Thank you, Sir, thank you so much," they muttered for the millionth time, burying their face into the fabric. "Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

Seth had left the basement long ago. It didn't stop them.

#writer whumper #the bad chronicles

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cyan-ideblues · 1 year

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Tumblr is eating my asks so i will post this here-

Its a dream i had a day or two ago about Quackity, Wilbur and Tommy- and it gets fucked at the end sooo.. (Warning for: violence, some slight details of gore, injury and death)

A fight between Wilbur and Quackity had broke out moments ago when wilbur had come to apoligize; Tommy was at the side lines yelling for them to stop with no avail. Wilbur and Quackity were trading sword blows, arrows and accusatory yelling about the others actions that led to disaster, Wilbur, now bleeding from the corner of his mouth from a particularly nasty punch to the face that started this whole fight, yelled "ITS NOT MY FAULT THAT YOU SEEM TO THINK MY SYMPHONY WAS GOING TO BE PERFECT UNTIL YOU CAME AND HIJACKED IT!" Quackity and Tommy stop to look at wilbur as he continued, "WE WERE GOING TO ELECT OURSELFS TO KEEP OUR NATION SAFE BUT YOU CAME IN AND FORCED YOUR IDEALS ONTO PEOPLE WHO WERE TAKING REFUGE FROM TYRANTS JUST LIKE YOU, QUACKITY. THEN YOU TEAMED UP WITH SCHLATT AND IT ALL WENT TO SHIT FOR ME AND TOM BECAUSE YOU COULDN'T HANDLE THE FACT THAT I WAS DOING SOMETHING BETTER THAN YOU EVER COULD! THIS DESERT WE STAND IN? ITS A FUCKING FAKE! A MERE COPY OF SOMETHING THAT WAS GREAT! AND YOU RUB IT IN THE FACES OF THOSE WHO REMEMBER THE ACTUAL SYMPHONY THAT I MADE, QUCKITY! YOU. ARE. A. FRAUD." Wilbur finishes his yelling while breathing heavily and holding his sword with shaking hands, the world seemingly stopped as the silence of the battlefield stretched on seemingly forever. Quackity was glaring at the revived man with even more hatred than he ever did before as he tried to think of a way to retaliate against the words; But he didn't think of his own words to hurt Wilbur. He thought of actions, actions that would hurt even more than words, because Quackity knew that Wilbur had basically nothing to lose since he had already lost his people and nation so long ago.. But one of the people had stayed with him. The co-president was always following Wilbur wherever he could, like a duckling to its mother. Quackity knew that wilbur, deep down viewed tommy as a family member; now it was too late. Quackity had his half baked idea set in stone, he didn't care if he was angry, he didn't care to think it over, he no longer cared about anything else other than getting back at Wilbur in the most painful way possible. Quackity quickly shot wilbur in the leg, the man responding with a yell and falling to his knee; Tommy watched and tried to go towards Wilbur in concern but was stopped by Quackity throwing a pearl in his direction. Quackity appeared infront of Tommy, smashing a potion of damage into his stomach, knocking him to the ground while yelling a profanity that got wilbur's attention. Wilbur looked over to Quackity looming over Tommy, who was holding his stomach that was bleeding from shards of glass in his skin. Tommy looked up at Quackity who was clearly blinded by rage in this moment. He tried to reason with him "B-Big Q! H-Hey I know your angry but lets just calm down and-" Tommy gets cut off by Quackity looking over at Wilbur who was frozen in place from disbelief, yelling out to him "Well if im a fucking fraud, I guess I can do anything I want then! Frauds are never believed in right? WELL HERE'S SOMETHING TO BELIVE IN, SOOT!" As soon as the declaration was stated, it was too late for Wilbur to pull the arrow from his wound and run, he wasn't fast enough to stop the sword that was brought down and into tommy's chest, he couldn't stop that scream to just wait a moment that was cut off. Wilbur was too late when his adrenaline filled body tackled Quackity to the ground as he pulled the sword from the already dead blonde. Wilbur managed to get the bloody sword from his rival, now sworn enemy; now yelling at him as he held the man down "ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?! DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU'VE JUST DONE?! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Wilbur didn't even realize he was crying while Quackity was staring off, the weight of his actions now settling on him. He fully realized that all the while he was protecting Tommy from dream, he failed to protect the boy from himself.

#dream smp #dsmp quackity #revivbur #dsmp tommy #tw death #tw violence

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mochikeiji · 3 years

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Gojo Satoru

↠ Pairing: Gojou Satoru x F!Reader

↠ Warning: bby gojo having heavy thoughts and sadness after everything. (pls hug) angst to fluff.

↠ a/n: ironically, his name is the title for this xD also thank you so much for the love from my recent works o(^▽^)o♡ have my love too!

↬ Word Count: 1.9k

Everyone has their beginnings. While some were blessed to start out life with good fortune and the right path, there were some who struggled through their way in living. For Gojo? He didn't really care. Not when he was already being worshipped for being born in this world, not when as a child he had barely lifted a finger before his life was already planned out for him. It was as if he was simply taking the red carpet to luxury. He already has everything. Truly, he claimed, he was indeed the honored one.

He wasn't one to be wary of his own feelings. What was there to be thought about if he doesn't know what are these stuff running through his head? Not that he should give a single mind to it.

But as he sat down at the tub of his bathroom— tweezers between his fingers, one at a time he plucks out the small shards of glass that had dug themselves onto his skin from the previous mission he was sent on solo, he started to wonder why he was staring blankly at the crimson liquid trailing down his damaged skin. Why did he felt so empty?

Maybe if Shoko were around to patch him up, he would've have had someone to pester for the day. Maybe he wouldn't have gone home to the lonesome apartment he owns, hissing at the pain from each shard taken out of his body.

Pain

That was strange. He never experienced that. Not even when he's in battle with the strongest forms of curses. No matter how many gashes of wounds he's collected, they always heal themselves quickly. It was unfamiliar that it began to frustrate him. He doesn't like it. Not one bit. It hurts. It hurts so much, yet why was there still something making his heart clench?

Loneliness. Abandonment. Broken.

Gojo was a fool for losing the only person that has come close to understanding him. If only he understood what Geto was going through; if he knew what the hell were all those troubles and emotions were maybe he would've still had his only best friend here with him. But no. It slowly came crashing down on Gojo's eyes that though he was the honored one,

He was the lost one.

A broken soul being held by strings as he was only guided to follow along the path that was planned out for him, but never what he planned for himself.

Why was he remembering all of these now? It had been years after the downfall. He should've moved on from it, be the usual cherry top, annoying idiot he was to his students and colleagues. God, he hates this. Falling, falling, falling.

Only the weak fall

Was a statement drilled into his system right from the start. The never ending worship that has earned him the title of being the "strongest" was what he kept pursuing. Believing.

Was the Gojo Satoru at his weakest point?

"Fuck." the unusually large shard of glass falls on the tiled floor, removed from the left side of his chest. Near to the scar that trails from the base of his throat and down to his navel; the reminder of why he shouldn't be left vulnerable at any cost. The hideous flaw that will forever be marked on his body, the one he desperately hides behind those prideful remarks and grinning faces. It saddens him, it hurts him, it angers him. It makes himself lose his own sanity.

The stinging started to kick in on his chest, no longer can he tell if it was from the wound or the clenching of his heart. He was strong, he was suppose and always will be strong. "Why?" the tub cracks from his grip. His free hand coming up to his eyes, eyes that people loved enough to fall in a trance— enemies crumbling and begging for mercy upon them.

Gojo felt ashamed.

Shameful. He grits his teeth hard when the small trickle of the uncharacteristic tear falls from the heavenly eye. It falls down to the porcelain surface, mixing with the trail of blood that was slowly draining down, "Why?" he finally looks down at the fatal wound, attempting to stop the bleeding with his bare hands pushing his chest. The blood smearing all over his upper body, shading the past scar that it made it look like it was there again.

"Why?"

Gojo speaks a little louder, sweating profusely as the dam inside him broke. Like an endless waterfall it was the tears fall. It made him sick. This was all not him. This wasn't the known shaman in the jujutsu world. This wasn't the boy raised from the family of the strongest. This wasn't the strongest.

"Stop."

This wasn't any of him.

"Make it stop."

Then who was he?

"Please, make it stop."

"Satoru?"

Entire body freezing. It was the first time he felt fear rushing through his veins; the fear of being seen like this. It wasn't because he didn't trust you. Good gracious, you were the last and only person Gojo ever holds onto after the years being glued together by faith and his attempts of flirting. No, he didn't want you to see this unknown person that was sitting in the bathroom of your shared apartment. Right, he forgot he was living with you.

Huh, he forgot. You were there.

There knelt down to his level, wide eyes meeting the now visible broken ones that was glossy with tears. With careful movements you raised an arm to eye level, pleading silently for permission to touch him. And for the time, Gojo was actually wary. He's faced a lot in the years spent as a sorcerer, as the strongest. Never the weakest. So when your lips curled into the same smile you'd give him during your moments of vulnerability. The cute, little curve you give when you couldn't help but just admire him or when you're about to utter out his 3 favorite words, he finds himself leaning forward to rest his cheek against the warmth of your palm. He allows the pestering tears to fall omly to be caught with your thumbs, shooing them away from his features.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

When your hand pulls away for a short moment, Gojo silently whines at the lost of contact. The tightness in his chest coming back. The feeling of abandonment crosses his head for a second before you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, holding up the tweezers he had dropped a while ago, "I'm here now."

I'm here now

That was his line. His line for when there was someone in need of help. The line that shimmers hope on the darkest moments of anyone's life. The line of the strongest. The ones who were only truly honored of saying.

Hope. It had a different form today. One that was right in front of him, plucking out every leftover shard on his body with gentleness he never got to witness as a child. The soft cooes and from time to time kisses on his scalp made his senses more focused on there rather than the stinging sensations running through his skin. Exactly how people react when there is hope.

And where there is hope,

"I love you, Satoru."

There is love.

Warm water from the shower cap started pouring down to his tensed muscles, washing out the combined dirt and blood away from him, cleansing his own form of curses that has shaken up his being. When did you finish patching him up? And why wasn't it as painful as it was when he did it?

He watches you move the small container that reeked of the scent of his blood and that inflicted his injuries far from his sight. Immediately, Gojo felt empty once more and was about to call you when you came back holding fresh towels on your hands. "Do you want me to join you?" he couldn't say yes faster than ever, almost as if he was relieved when you offered.

When you had finally stripped yourself off of your clothes and settled in between his long legs, there was nothing but the sound of the shower on echoing in the room with the two of you just staring back to one another.

Too good to be true, you were.

Gojo wanted to speak. Wanted to tell you how thankful he is that you were here to pull him away. To save his life, but all he could do was stare back into the void that of before. He sees the way your hands map around his torso in attempt to rinse him completely. Coming in contact with the old and new scar, softly tracing them as you felt his eyes wonder to yours. There was no sign of disappointment nor a hint of harm or disgust. Only something he never understood that it made him sob unexpectedly, startling you that left you pulling him into your embrace which he latches his face onto your neck and arms surrounding your body whole.

He cries.

All the frustration of not knowing whatever was happening, the mistakes he wishes to correct and the past he hoped to save along with the title he swore to maintain. It all falls on the smaller body he treasures in his arms at this very moment. He clutches, he palms, he roams. Whatever he can do just so he can fully grasp the idea that someone was there. You were there, and he wasn't alone anymore.

"I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough."

It would shock the world and break the hearts of many to hear these very words uttered from the mouth of the honored one. And Gojo wishes that everyone could hear it. That it would somehow reach the skies to wherever his best friend was too. To you, the person he loved the most. He was sorry that he wasn't the Gojo Satoru in your eyes.

"No, Toru. No." you push him back gently only to pull him in for a soft kiss, "I don't need you to always be the strongest. Let alone apologize for being vulnerable." he listens as he nuzzles against the palms meeting his face. The ones that held him together when he was falling apart.

His lips wobbled a bit when you land kisses on his scars, "These may not have been the good ones in your life, but these do not make you for who you are, Satoru." he hums in content when you rub down to his chest soothingly, the feeling that you has him yearning for more. Needing for more, "It's okay to be lost, and it's okay to be weak. But it'll never define you."

"I need you to be just you."

You pull him down, letting him cry all his heart out to your naked chest. He let's you have your way to him. The emotions, words, and treatment. All so unfamiliar. And he finds himself wanting. Needing more.

All his life he thought he had it all.

But never in his life has he lived it.

"What am I, (Y/n)?"

Cooing softly as the small of his voice. Like the child who never got to experience what love was. The child raised to already has to burden such responsibilities and stand. Gojo can feel himself breathe in relief as he whispers an "i love you" with a small kiss on your skin when you uttered out the words that has set his locked up self free. Free from the strings that's been taking over. The cage he was kept from all of his living.

The curse of his gift

And being honored of what he truly deserves.

"You're Gojo Satoru."

Just Gojo Satoru.

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo fluff #gojo headcanons #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo scenarios #gojo x reader #gojou x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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notchesandbullets · 3 years

Text

Life After Luck (Black Panther!Shinsou x Reader)

Art credit: Pixiv ID 123370838

Warnings: harassment, descriptions of injuries and blood, mention of a past character death (minor) and violence, angst, fluff, protective Shinsou and endearing dad!Shinsou.

A/N: second work for @ultimate-astridwriting hybrid collab!!

Words: 9.4k

You and Shinsou had been seeing each other secretly for years. And in the famed city of Musutafu where the existence of hybrids were extremely rare, that wasn’t exactly an easy feat.

The statistics varied around the globe but the general trend ended up to be less than 5% of the world’s population being born with some kind of animal trait.

Because they were so rare, most humans lived out their whole lives without encountering a hybrid in person once, but for the odd individual, sometimes they would catch a glimpse.

Ever since he was young, Shinsou had to fight every step of the way to get what he wanted. He had to work harder than most just for the mere scraps of attention from scouts that came to search for those with talent to become future heroes, but he never once complained. Until a fight broke out at school, the jocks beating him up in the cafeteria, calling his aspiration to be a hero stupid while everyone else just sat there and watched.

They called him all sorts of horrible names that made his skin crawl and at the end of it all, they didn’t even get punished for starting the fight. He did.

After that, he stomped away from the school grounds and never looked back.

Overcoming life’s great trials, he made a name for himself in his own community in Japan with the help of his mentor, Aizawa.

The scruffy man demanded that he at least get the bare minimum of an education with him if he really refused to go back to his original school, and that’s how the odd pair that resembled father and son more than anyone else ended up getting homeschooled by the veteran underground pro.

Eventually, the once scrawny black panther without a quirk transformed into a seasoned pro that Japan’s law enforcement called on whenever a case called for his skills.

Shinsou’s hybrid traits made it easy for him to sneak around despite his size, making him one of the idealistic hires when police needed someone for undercover work. Coupled with the prowess of his build body, he was more than capable to takedown whatever targets were given to him.

Once he reached adulthood, he left the police reserves and went out on his own, seeking a life that lacked the emergency sirens and ways of deceit that it had been filled with previously.

He bounced around from job to job, starting from the bottom up. He washed dishes in a kitchen for a restaurant then went on to be a cashier and then finally worked on the side of the road, cleaning up litter left behind by inconsiderate people.

Shinsou found that over time, he appreciated doing those jobs more and got fulfillment out of it that he didn’t find before.

Little things that happened daily put an extra spring in his step, like strolling down the street and seeing an elder needing help to get across. The simple actions of holding open the door or complimenting someone in hopes of making their day, it was so much clearer than it had been before.

That wasn’t to say that life was a walk in the park for the estranged panther. He still got comments about his appearance when his hood slipped off or from people who looked closely enough spotted his tail, but he no longer cared. His self-worth didn’t rely on pleasing them.

He was done with trying to blend in with the humans. He was different and he was proud of it.

Shinsou’s jaw clenched and his eyes hardened every time someone muttered something not-so-kind under their breath but he pushed on out of sheer determination, shoving it down until he could process it and release the feelings that came with it. He didn’t want to be the type of person who held a grudge.

Nothing good came out of that.

It was hard, but he had an example to set. He didn’t want his son to end up like the person he used to be.

A loner, an outcast, filled with so much anger aimed at the world that he lacked the ability to get along with anybody. And he didn’t want that for his son.

Naoki. His five-year-old kid with as much spunk as you had.

His wife of seven years.

Shinsou had met you on the eve of a grand ball being hosted in honor of Midoriya’s birthday, a party thrown for the Number One Hero by his large circle of friends. The black panther hybrid had been serving as protection for the night to Kaminari, an old human friend of his from high school who had hooked him up with a steady job within his own company.

Private security.

Since his panther genes gave him a much more built physique, Shinsou didn’t have any troubles convincing the big boss that he was the right fit for being a bodyguard. Coupled with his impressive background, that sealed the deal in one go.

Shinsou had been over at the bar getting a drink for the hyperactive blond conversing with his other guard, Jirou, when it happened.

The grand doors to the Victorian ballroom opened and in you entered, causing everyone’s jaws to drop to the floor.

Your floor-length gown was breathtaking. Diamonds glittered on soft skin from where the expensive necklace sat just above your collarbone. Ruby heels peeked out from under your dress as you floated through the entryway, coming to a stop at the balcony high above all the guests’ heads.

White chiffon skirts sweeping the marble tile, your satin heels clicked against the floor as you strode in, your chin turned delicately at the audible gasp that left the doorman.

An easy smile popped up on your features as he hastily apologized for staring and you brushed it off with an airy wave of your hand.

Shinsou didn’t even know if you were aware of all the eyes on you as you glided down the steps and warmly greeted Todoroki, the one who actually reserved the ballroom for the night, and Bakugou, one of your oldest friends.

Thank Eraserhead for his enhanced hearing.

However, Shinsou practically fainted when you walked over to him, commenting that he looked nice right before introducing yourself. The dress code that he had previously complained about to Kaminari earlier went out the window as soon as his eyes settled on you, drinking in your figure.

You were the embodiment of a goddess.

At that point, he wasn’t sure if he died and went to heaven or what, but he knew one thing. You were absolutely breathtaking.

Your elegance, your ease and instant kindness whenever you interacted with someone had him weak in the knees.

You were a vision.

Radiating pure light and beauty.

Sliding over to him, Kaminari had flashed him a cocky grin and reassured him that Jirou could handle his responsibilities if he, oh, wanted to pay a visit to a particularly stunning girl.

Jirou, his right-hand woman, swatted the electric blond’s shoulder as he doubled over with laughter but calmly told Shinsou that if he wanted to stroll around for a little while before coming back, then well, there certainly was nothing wrong with having a little bit of fun.

Blushing, he refused, claiming he couldn’t possibly leave Kaminari alone that long. He would find a way to set something on fire somehow.

The man had a weird affinity with fire.

Shinsou busied himself with the glasses, pouring the drinks that he had originally came over to get and he was about to get back to Jirou and Kaminari, both who suspiciously disappeared from sight, when he glanced up and saw you in all your splendor.

Right in front of him.

The crystal flutes he had been holding smashed onto the floor, clear shards flying everywhere. All heads turned to him but this time, the attention was unwanted.

Shinsou was frantic, trying to amend his mistake before you saw, even though that was literally impossible at this point, and Kaminari popped up out of nowhere, intervening before the enraged caterer could say some not-so-kind words to him.

That was fortunate for him.

What wasn’t as fortunate was you crouching down the second you heard the crash, disregarding everyone else’s shouts for you to be careful as you raced to his side, bending down to help.

“Are you alright?!” You asked, eyes wide with panic when your gaze landed on his palms and you froze. “Oh no, you’re bleeding!!”

The next ten minutes consisted of him adamantly refusing to let you help him clean up the shattered crystal and you arguing against him. Shinsou was forced to cave into you as you insisted on helping, threatening to haul him into your car to take him to the hospital yourself if he didn’t at least let you look at it, so he wasn’t left with much of a choice.

It wasn’t long before all the dangerous fragments were swept up and once the situation was handled, you led him out of the way to tend to his injuries.

Shinsou was quiet the entire way out, only protesting when you finally reached your destination of the nearest single stall bathroom. Here, at least it was quieter than the party that had resumed out there. Definitely wasn’t his crowd, but he wasn’t about to stomp all over the opportunity that Kaminari gave him just because he was a bit uncomfortable.

He could handle it. He was a panther, for crying out loud.

His frame was broad, his sharp indigo eyes terrifying and he was tougher than anyone else out there.

And yet, you didn’t flinch away from his wary gaze, going so far as to tend to the cuts and scraps on his bare hands, disinfecting them gently before bandaging them up in soft gauze you found in the cabinet.

It wasn’t odd to have amenities at an event like this where some kind of physical discourse was bound to happen. You knew it well.

Shinsou eyed you while you worked. “... I didn’t catch your name.”

If you were put off by the low drawl edged with a slight growl clearly meant to intimidate you, you didn’t show it at all.

Shrugging nonchalantly, you ducked your head somewhat shyly as you tied off the cotton. “L/N. L/N, Y/N.”

Shinsou smirked. “Nice to meet you.”

You flashed him a grin. “Likewise.”

This time, he was the one to look down shyly as his heart skipped a beat, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck with his newly banadaged palm as you wrapped the other one. “... Thanks for doing that.”

The snort that left you had him doing a double take.

“Thanks for letting me.” You retorted, tugging a bit harder on the end of the gauze to emphasize your exasperation with his earlier stubbornness and Shinsou winced, already regretting it.

“Sorry about that.” He murmured. He didn’t want to be on your bad side already. He had just met you.

Your gaze softened a tad as you picked up on the genuine strain in his voice. “It’s okay.”

After you finished tending to his injury, giving him a lame excuse why you knew first-aid so well, the two of you returned to the ball.

He let it go. For some reason, he had a feeling he shouldn’t pry.

Shinsou readjusted his tie, knowing that if he didn’t, Kaminari would do it for him. That’s just the type of person the electric blond was. It was hella annoying.

But his indigo gaze kept on you the entire time as your skirts swept across the floor, capturing all the attention of the guests once again.

Shinsou tapped the rim of the champagne glass to his lips contemplatively, mulling something over in his mind.

He saw through your weak excuse that you just knew how to do first-aid. He spotted the way your hands shook when you saw the blood, no matter how shallow the laceration was, and he couldn’t help but do a little bit of digging.

Jirou helped him find out that you weren’t a doctor or a nurse. In fact, you weren’t in any kind of profession in the medical field.

While Shinsou was slightly glad you weren’t so that he wouldn’t run into you when missions went sideways, he was more disappointed than anything else.

What if he never saw you again after tonight?

The thought of today being the last time he laid eyes on you was too much for him to bear and even though he tried to keep his distance, tried to stomp out the blossoming warmth in his chest for you when you giggled and threw him a smile through the crowd with logic, nothing worked.

Shinsou gathered his courage and with a push from Kaminari, literally, he had a date with the bashful bartender by the end of the night.

Waving goodbye to you after he walked you to his car, his arm dropped back down to his side as you drove off into the night. This is going to be fun...

Two weeks passed by and he still had yet to see you.

At first, he was the one to get called away. Kaminari needed him for a gig while he closed a deal on the nightclub that he owned that he was looking to expand. Apparently, Jirou and Sero were unavailable. He apologized profusely, promising to make it up to you, but you didn’t even mind.

You understood that sometimes life just happened and things got in the way. He had nothing to be sorry for. You rescheduled for the following week.

That was when you got called away. Family emergency.

Shinsou spent twenty minutes on the phone with you, promising that he wasn’t holding it against you for needing to push back the date again. His eyes softened when he clearly heard how distressed you were through his cell and he sighed, murmuring into the receiver that it didn’t matter how long it took or how many obstacles the two of you would have to get through.

His heart still longed for you just as strongly as the first day he saw you.

With his quiet yet passionate reassurance, you were able to attend to all that you needed to, keeping in contact with him throughout the week. You were ashamed to admit it, but with how easy he was to talk to, you found yourself falling hard.

Then, the day finally came where life allowed you this one happiness.

According to you, the first date went well. Sure, Shinsou was a bit shy and awkward, fumbling over his words but you found it extremely cute.

He wasn’t nearly as intimidating as his figure portrayed. Underneath all that brawn, the black panther was sweet and he was kind.

It took some time for him to actually warm up to you, but you were there waiting for him patiently. You never pushed him, never asked him to reveal secrets he didn’t want to talk about or divulge information about his personal life unless he himself wished to talk about it.

But when he finally did open up, close to a year later after that initial meeting at Midoriya’s birthday party, he found that he couldn’t stop running his mouth when you trained your keen gaze on him so intently, hanging onto his every word.

Shinsou told you everything.

He told you about his lonely past, about the man called Eraserhead but how he knew him as Aizawa, how he preferred coffee over tea because while neither of them actually had any taste, one of them did a much better job of keeping him awake at night when he had to work.

You giggled and told him you took note of that, leaning forward to plop your chin in the palm of your hand as you regarded him mischievously.

“Does that mean the great and famous Toshi doesn’t like water?” You teased lightly, stirring your hot chocolate while the snowflakes fell outside, melting the instant they hit the window.

The pillowy softness looked deceptively soft and cozy but you knew after many experiences of jumping into piles of snow that that was definitely not the case.

Shinsou scowled at the lilt in your voice but the edges of his mouth twitched, desperately trying to hold back a fond smile at the sound of your nickname for him.

You gave him that nickname after you learned his given name. He had shared it with you months after you two started dating regularly. You had pestered him for it for a while after the first coffee date but after he asked you to stop, that he would tell you when he was ready, you stopped immediately.

Boundaries had to be respected.

One of your old girlfriends made fun of you for it, claiming that it didn’t make sense so you shouldn’t feel the need to respect it.

You dropped her right after.

Understanding didn’t matter. If it was close to him, then it mattered to you. And that went for everyone.

Shinsou tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants and leaned back in the booth, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. The only other person he let call him Toshi was Aizawa and that was on the rare occasion that his mentor praised him for a job well done.

“You have some nerve, doll.” Shinsou teased right back, the barest amount of amusement twinkling in his eyes and he cleared his throat. “But no, I actually do like water.”

In spite of the common misconception that all cats hated water, he got that a lot once people saw his ears and tail, fangs poking out between his lips. But if anything, he had no issues with it. Let them say and think whatever they wanted, it didn’t matter to him.

You however… he couldn’t have you thinking things that weren’t true.

Shinsou made a face. “I just am not fond of baths.”

You slapped your knee and cackled at that, laughing so loud that you drew the attention of some of the other patrons in the vicinity but you couldn’t even catch your breath long enough to apologize for ruining their calm coffee cafe experience.

The two of you dated for quite a long time before Shinsou popped the question.

For you, it had taken you by a complete and utter surprise. You had expected him to ask you to move in with him first or something since his place was big enough, not this. No one had ever committed to a relationship with you long enough and serious enough to make you think that marriage was part of the equation.

But while you were startled, you still agreed, tears caught in your lashes. You may have been shocked but you were so elated.

Shinsou, keen as ever, wiped away your tears and coaxed your face up, finger hooked underneath your chin as he examined you closely.

Indigo hues softened in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” You reassured him with a sniffle and bright smile. “I just— Sometimes I forget how good of a person you really are, Toshi.”

He was taken aback at that. His whole life he had been told the opposite. And yet here he was, with the love of his life telling him otherwise.

His heart was going to explode.

It hadn’t been the first time you said it but he hoped that it wouldn’t be the last.

And when the news that you two were now engaged finally hit you, you took some time to soak in the scenery.

The place he picked was absolutely perfect.

An alcove secluded and filled with fragrant flowers, vines trailing up the expanse of the old stone ruins. Soothing streams cut paths through the quiet garden, a serene and tranquil place hidden amongst the bustling town of Musutafu. There was no one else around. Just you two.

It was perfect. It was perfectly Toshi.

“Thank you.” You whispered, leaning your head and resting it on his shoulder.

He booped your nose softly, smiling slightly when you scrunched it up cutely and his tail curled around your waist protectively, holding you close.

“I love you.” Shinsou murmured, closing his eyes as he breathed you in.

There was no hesitation in your soft reply. “I love you too.”

But your relationship with Shinsou wasn’t all sunshine and roses. There was a time where you thought you might lose him.

That he might die.

It was bad. Kaminari had called you right after it happened but because you had been working at the time and your dick of a boss didn’t let you have your phone, you didn’t see any of those messages until after you got off your shift.

But when you finally did look at it, your heart stopped.

What happened next was a blur. Your phone slipped through your fingers, uncaring how the screen cracked and went black the instant it hit the pavement and you tore off in the address now ingrained in your memory despite only looking at it once.

Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay, You chanted in your head, tears streaming down your face and the city lights faded into the background as you zipped down the familiar path to the hospital you swore you would never step foot in again. Toshi, I can’t lose you too.

The front desk receptionist didn’t even stop you as you barreled through the front doors with panicked eyes, chest heaving. She simply waved you on. You knew where to go.

When you finally got to his room, your heart stopped.

Kaminari wasn’t kidding. It was bad.

No one else was in the white room with white walls that contained your beloved lying deathly still on the single cot in the center of the room.

The hospital room was vacant. Empty. No color.

You hated it.

But you suppressed those feelings of unease that made you sick to your stomach and stepped a foot inside, racing to Shinsou before you could talk yourself out of it.

“I’m here.” You cried out, reaching for his hand. A choked sob left you when his fingers weakly curled around yours. “I’m here, Hitoshi.”

The doctors came and went but you stayed by his side, not even batting an eye when Kaminari, Jirou and Sero came to visit.

There were heavy bags under your eyes from lack of sleep due to the past few days. “When will he wake up?”

Kaminari hesitated, glancing at Jirou, hoping to find her usual reassurance but a foreign worry wrought her features.

“I… don’t know.” He said finally, placing a hand on your shoulder, sighing when you didn’t even look up at him and smiled like you normally did. “He’s under a pretty heavy anesthesia—”

“He’s going to wake up.” You stated firmly, brow kitting stubbornly and you squeezed his hand tighter.

But when it was clear he wasn’t going to squeeze back, your grip loosened and your hands fell back in your lap.

“He’s going to wake up.” You repeated, voice shaking this time around with insecurity as you faced the possible reality that he might not.

That you had just grown close to someone else who was going to leave you.

According to the report that Jirou had tried to tell you about, Shinsou had gotten attacked by someone he had helped the police put away a long time ago.

A retaliation hit.

Stabbed in the shoulder with a gunshot wound through his femoral artery, there wasn’t a lot of hope for him. He lost a lot of blood.

But you were certain he would fight. He could make it through this. He promised you that he would never leave you.

Resolve strengthening, you wiped away your tears harshly with the back of your hand before covering his motionless hand with yours once more. As long as you were here, you would provide him all the support he needed to get through this.

“Toshi…” You sobbed as the other three took their leave after failing to convince you to go home and get some rest. They would get some food and bring it up to you, sure you hadn’t eaten in days. You didn’t want to be the one to tell them that they were right.

Shinsou never liked it when you skipped meals. What would he say if he saw you now?

You pressed a wet kiss to the back of his hand, tears blurring your vision.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up.” You promised, eyelashes fluttering close as you failed against the anguish.

“Please, don’t leave me alone.”

Days turned into weeks and your hope was dwindling with each passing hour.

You had lost your job at the diner that you worked at because you refused to leave his side. You were lucky to have Kaminari reassure you that money wouldn’t be a problem and you were eternally grateful that he knew just how important it was that you didn’t leave Shinsou’s bedside.

Jirou and Sero rotated shifts to keep watch over their friend, coordinating with Tsukauchi, All Might and Eraserhead to provide top security but you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to their activities.

All you did, from sunrise to midnight was stare at Shinsou’s peacefully sleeping face in hopes that he would blink open those tired eyes and gaze at you once more.

Please, You begged for what seemed like the millionth time to someone, anyone who was listening. Please help him.

Let him be okay.

When a month and a half had passed, you were at your wit’s end. There had been no change since day one. The doctors said that all his injuries had healed, thanks to Recovery Girl, but that it was likely he would never come out of the coma.

You had no more tears to cry. Your figure was gaunt, facial features sunken in like you had seen a ghost and lost your mind. No one could convince you to eat or sleep.

If Shinsou died, there was a good chance you would too.

Life was empty without him in it.

You couldn’t take this anymore. The waiting, the not knowing. You hated it.

You begged him even though you knew he couldn’t hear you, angry at him, angry at the guy who put him here, angry at the world for being so unfair that you lost it. Yelling at him, you fought back frustrated tears as you poured your heart out to him.

But then you stopped. He didn’t know.

Sinking back into the uncomfortable plastic chair that your body had molded to, you closed your eyes in defeat.

That’s right. You never told him.

Eyes growing sad and regretful, you debated for a second before you decided that if you were feeling this way, you might as well tell him why.

Holding his hand that teetered on the edge of chilly due to the slowed down circulation, you took a deep breath.

“You always wanted to know, ever since we first met.” You started softly, playing idly with his fingers to distract yourself from the horror of this story. “I knew you saw right through me then, should’ve taken the warning and run.”

You smiled faintly. He never would’ve let you.

“I…” You trailed off, losing your courage. Breathing shakily, you tried to gather yourself. You knew this wasn’t going to be an easy feat but somehow, this was the hardest part of it all.

Where you had to admit what you felt with no hidden truths.

Clearing your throat, you started over.

“I never told you about Ryuu.” You confessed, blinking up at the stained tiles of the ceiling in an attempt to hold back the tears that welled up in your eyes. “He was my little brother, passed away when I was 15.”

You exhaled shakily. “He was only six.”

Your dad had gotten mugged and was beaten to death on the outskirts of the city before you were born. Your mom raised you as best as a single mother her age could but it was hard.

She had no job, no family, no one to help her. Your childhood consisted of you bouncing around the streets to make a penny, then crashing in whatever crumbling, rundown building you could find for the night.

Any run-ins with the law weren’t good.

You knew that they would take you away from your mom if they knew, put you in the foster care system. You couldn’t let them do that, who would take care of her?

She didn’t tell you that she was pregnant. You found out when she started showing.

You didn’t say anything about it for the nine months she carried that baby, supporting her with all you could. Life was okay. You got a job running errands for the kind man who owned a grocery store at the corner of the street.

You had enough money to put some food on the table.

When she birthed the baby, you were there the entire time. You were there when he had his first cry, when the nurse cut the umbilical cord, and when your mother passed away on the hospital bed, too weak from labor to carry on.

You didn’t mourn. No matter how hard you tried or how much you wanted to, no tears came out.

Instead, you held Ryuu in your arms, kissing him on his little forehead as you vowed to protect him.

He was life. He was precious.

But you couldn’t protect him from himself.

Ryuu was born with a flawed heart. The doctors predicted that he wouldn’t live more than a year.

But your little brother pushed through. By the time he turned four, he was already showing signs of great progress and healing. You were hopeful that he could grow up like a normal kid and experience life to the fullest.

You hoped for too much.

Visits to the hospital became more frequent when he started coughing up blood. Violent seizures overtook him and one day, it claimed his life.

And you didn’t cry.

Onlookers speculated that you had no heart if you couldn’t even grieve for this poor boy, but no, that wasn’t it. That wasn’t it at all.

You thought you were over this already, that you had gotten over your fear of hospitals and all the despair that came with it, but no.

Seeing Shinsou laying there, deathly pale, had your heart beating right out of your chest, and not in a good way.

“When you wake up, I’m going to kill you.” You swore through the hot tears stinging your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.

Slouching heavily back down in that same uncomfortable plastic chair that dug into your back and made your butt incredibly sore, you clasped Shinsou’s hand tightly.

“You’re such an idiot.” You sobbed, fingers shaking as you let up the pressure, grazing over the back of his hand as though you were afraid he might disappear on you if you pressed too hard.

Vision blurry, a sob welled up in your chest and your body trembled uncontrollably as you let it all out. The build up of all the emotions you had been suppressing since you were younger released onto him and you cried and cried until you couldn’t anymore.

But your eyes flew open as something soft and fuzzy ruffled your hair.

Shooting upright, fresh tears gathered at the corners of your eyes and your hands clapped over your mouth in shock.

A broken cry escaped you. “Toshi…”

Shinsou’s indigo eyes opened just a crack but they were trained on you and the faintest of smiles graced his lips.

“Hey, doll.” He breathed tiredly.

His mouth barely moved but you heard him.

With an astonished and disbelieving cry of relief, you flung your arms around his neck.

Despite his body just waking up and getting accustomed to its surroundings, he didn’t hesitate to catch you, tucking your head under his chin and he buried his nose into your hair and inhaled deeply. Damn, he missed you.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Shinsou apologized, wincing a bit as he tried to prop himself up. You were quick to realize what he wanted and helped him, fluffing the pillows behind him as best as you could even though it was hard to reach around his much bigger frame. “How long—”

“Too long.”

Shinsou’s eyes softened and he gently brushed away the teardrops escaping with the pad of his thumb as he cupped your face tenderly.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He whispered, eyes closing briefly as he rested his forehead against yours.

You glowered at him even though your heart was already surging towards him with open arms. “You better be.”

The sound of his throaty chuckle was a welcome one and you melted into his embrace, sighing at the deep purr that rumbled from his chest.

“Princess…” Shinsou murmured, Kaminari’s outburst and Jirou’s relieved expression as they burst into the room going unnoticed as he focused only on you. “Forgive me?”

Vaguely, you registered Sero bolting out the door to fetch the doctor but you blinked up at him and pouted, playing with the collar of his hospital robe.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You mumbled under your breath.

Shinsou’s eyebrows drew together. “I heard about your brother, I think. I’m sorry I didn’t—”

“You don’t need to ask for forgiveness.” You whispered, grip tightening on him when the doctor entered the room and asked you to leave so he could examine him. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

Shinsou begged for just one more minute with you, one more minute to hold you in his arms but the doctor was insistent. Reluctantly, with great difficulty, he let you go, the man taking your place in a second.

You swallowed harshly as you stepped away from him, Jirou patting your shoulder comfortingly and you turned to her as Kaminari peppered the exhausted panther with endless questions.

“Toshi?”

Shinsou turned his head at your soft voice and motioned for you to complete your thought. He knew that look on your face.

You broke away from Jirou, leaving her with Sero as you approached him once more. Slowly, with intent, you strode towards him, watery eyes diminishing as your resolve strengthened.

Taking his hand in yours, something flashed through your eyes. “I’m gonna make them pay.”

In spite of his vision growing foggy as the anesthetic kicked in, a small smirk played upon the edge of his mouth and his gaze flickered over your shoulder to lock purposefully with Kaminari’s. A silent request to keep you safe while he was out.

Shinsou sighed, settling into the thin mattress as comfortably as he could when you pressed a loving kiss to his forehead.

He smiled, eyes fluttering shut as the last thing he heard was your hushed declaration of how much you loved him.

“Go get ‘em, doll.”

Seven quirk-cancelling handcuffs, demolished turkey stuffing and a plate of thrown pudding later, you left the individuals responsible for attacking your Toshi in the police’s capable hands.

It had taken you forever to heal from the trauma of that day that landed your life partner in the hospital in such a dangerous predicament, but taking one slow step at a time, you managed to get back up on your feet and move forward.

Now, years later, the shining daylight turned into the ambiance of night, and that was when the real party started.

Purple lowlights glowed softly in contrast against the glittery sparkles of the disco ball hanging above the dancefloor.

Jirou spun tunes at the DJ booth, Sero jamming with Kirishima unabashedly to the loud EDM in the crowd, Bakugou violently fighting against his best friend when Kirishima begged for him to come join.

You poured drinks from behind the counter with an impassive Todoroki, bopping to the music that pumped through the air and reverberated through your bones. Your coworker continued to serve customers, strolling out into the dining area as someone waved him over. Uraraka and Aoyama, you think.

Kaminari had given you a position at his nightclub, asking if you wanted to put your bartending skills to good use since his last guy quit once he got a better gig. You accepted immediately.

You bustled around the back of the counter of the bar, glass shelves stocked with liquor high behind you. Polishing glasses, you handled several things at once as customers put in orders and talked to you all at once.

Tonight was a celebration and a bunch of your friends were here.

Bakugou was now begrudgingly dancing with Kirishima on the dancefloor, the permanent scowl on his face growing once Todoroki leaned over and casually noted how much he resembled a put off skunk in that moment. Midoriya had to intervene and drag away a clueless Todoroki while Kirishima wrangled back a furious pomeranian.

Kaminari hung out with Yaoyorozu by Jirou, Shoji and Ojiro drifting over to them as soon as they stepped in through the front door.

Excitement thrummed through your veins at all the familiar faces. With all your friends in one place, you were eager to see the one person you had been looking forward to catching up with all week.

He should be getting off of work soon…

A ring from the doorbell as it opened caught your attention.

“I’ll be right with you!!” You called as the figure who had just shuffled through the door of the bar sat down at the counter.

“No worries.” The man responded smoothly despite his tired tone. “Take your time.”

At the sound of the familiar voice, you casted a glimpse at him, spotting ruffled purple hair and indigo hues brimming with love fixated on you.

He waved you off with a lazy grin and you fought back a smile as you continued to make the requested cocktail for the customer you were currently serving.

You had both agreed to not act with familiarity at your workplace but that didn’t stop you from putting an extra bounce in your step as you flitted around from behind the counter with grace and practiced ease to help ease Todoroki’s workload.

Shinsou’s gaze followed you as you swapped places with the dual-haired man.

He had just got off of patrol with his old mentor, Eraserhead. Kaminari had given him the day off and let him spend time with the scruffy man. And of course Aizawa wanted to spend it doing work.

Taking off his signature mask to let it hang around his neck, Shinsou set down his keys on the polished obsidian tabletop, tapping his fingers idly while he waited for you to come back, his eyes flickering to the employees’ door that led to the back.

But he had no complaints while waiting.

One of his favorite pastimes was watching you work. The grace while you floated around the crowd of people coupled with the delicate precision you used to handle each glass while you poured liquor in different combinations, he could watch you for hours on end and never be bored.

Wiping your hands on your white apron dirtied with stains from this shift, you dashed back behind the counter to send out a few plates full of food that a table had ordered.

Shinsou rested his chin in the palm of his hand nonchalantly, his tail swishing lazily from side to side as you took care of things seamlessly, picking up the influx of business that came with the busy hour.

He briefly wondered why there were only you and Todoroki waiting on tables, scowling slightly when he thought that you had to deal with waitressing on top of bartending but you didn’t seem to mind.

With an easy smile and light shining in your eyes, you dealt with all of it with grace.

“Hello!!”

Shinsou glanced up, one of his rare smiles threatening to break out across his face at the sight that greeted him. You were leaning over the counter towards him, spinning a pen between your fingers smoothly as you whipped out a notepad.

“What can I get for you?” You asked politely but the mischievous glint in your eye gave it away.

Shinsou had been so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear you come over. Easily enough, a smug smirk curved at the edge of his mouth and he recovered rather quickly as he chuckled.

“Just water is fine, thanks.” He said and you nodded, flashing him a quirky smile.

You got him his water within seconds and in the blink of an eye, you were back to serving others. Caught up in the craziness of the rush hour, you barely noticed a little someone toddling up to stand up behind you as the door burst open.

“Mama?”

The babysitter you hired for the night came rushing in behind him, hauling your son back frantically, wrought with worry from when he sped ahead of her. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, L/N-san, I just—”

You held up a hand to stop her, calming her down. “It’s okay, Gen. Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.”

In a single hurried breath, she relayed in a panicked manner that she had a family emergency to take care of. You reassured her that it was okay to go, ushering her out the door when she continued to spew out apologies for bailing like this.

This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened and you were quite sure it wouldn’t be the last. The girl was nice and she got along great with your son but her parents struggled with their health and usually one of them or both of them landed in the hospital every week.

The stress.

You shook your head. It was unfair to put such a young girl through something so strenuous but you didn’t have any say in it and you inserting yourself into their lives would be intrusive so you settled for supporting her whenever the opportunity presented itself.

“Need a ride?” You asked, eyes sympathetic as you headed over to her, snatching your coat from the hook, already ready to help in any way that you could.

Gen waved her hands quickly, the smile that appeared gone as fast as it came. “That’s okay, but thank you, L/N-san!! Monoma is taking me to the hospital.”

Her knuckles turned white at how tightly she gripped the strap of her bag and your eyes softened understandingly as her boyfriend’s sports car pulled up just outside.

“Go on.” You urged softly. “And be careful.”

“I will.”

And with that, she turned around, leaving behind a fidgeting little boy tugging on the bottom of your apron.

“Mama? Where’s she going?” Naoki pouted, cheeks puffing out. “I thought we were gonna play…”

You hid a smile, reaching behind you to pat him on the head as you expertly handled a tray of empty beers and put the glasses in the sink. As Todoroki took over for you, you bent down to ruffle his hair.

“What is it, little one?” You questioned softly and somehow your son managed to hear you above the noise and clamor of the partying going on.

Normally, you would’ve done everything you could to keep him away from your workplace. Having your husband watch him in the back room was preferable until your shift was over. Naoki particularly enjoyed coloring.

The last babysitter you hired before Gen ended up being careless and lost track of him, letting the small boy wander out of the house. He found you at your workplace easily enough since it was a few blocks away but you were in hysterics when he trotted in through the door with his favorite Eraserhead plushie as one of your regulars held open the door for him.

Grandpa Shouta would never admit how much he loved the little guy but it didn’t matter. He and Hizashi constantly showered Naoki with gifts every weekend when they came over to take your family out on a shopping spree and obligatory trip to the cat café.

You didn’t have any relatives that lived close by or else you would’ve asked if they could babysit Naoki and Aizawa was out of the question since his job was just as dangerous and demanding as Shinsou’s.

Your workplace wasn’t exactly the traditional nightclub, it was actually a very sophisticated bar with tight security and respectful customers. Rarely you got anyone new but the steady stream of regulars was more than enough to keep the place up and running.

Nobody usually got violent when they had too much to drink but if they did, the bouncers Kendo and Tetsutetsu were both quick to throw them out of the establishment until they sobered up.

Naoki liked to cling to your legs when you were at home and since all your regulars knew of him from that little incident before, no one was surprised when the small boy tucked himself behind you shyly.

The disco music’s volume lowered a tad as Jirou realized that Naoki was with you, reducing it to a much more acceptable level for conversations to flow easier.

Shinsou sipped his water. Gen was in and out as quickly as she came, and there was no need for him to do anything when you took care of it so fast. Besides, his son hadn’t even noticed him yet.

Until now.

Beaming widely, Naoki faced his dad and hugged your leg.

Shinsou fought back a fond smile, waving at him discreetly to avoid catching the attention of the others. He rolled his eyes though when his silent and goofy conversation was interrupted by a Kaminari and Sero obnoxiously hooting from the side.

You remained oblivious, cleaning up a pile of dishes to clear your workspace as Todoroki disappeared into the kitchen where Sato and Tokoyami were continuing to crank out plates of food for the night.

Tugging on your apron, Naoki’s wide eyes met yours as you knelt down to his level. He pointed to someone sitting on the opposite side as his dad.

“Mama, that man looks mean…” He whispered fearfully, cowering behind your legs as you straightened up to your full height.

“Can I help you?” You asked with a pointed glance, tone hard as you addressed the one intimidating your son.

While any other person would’ve bristled at your icy tone, this burly man just snickered and leaned closer, making his intent clear.

Arching an eyebrow, you crossed your arms over your chest and pulled out your notepad. You hadn’t seen him around before, he must be a newcomer.

You sighed after a beat of him just ogling you, tapping your pen to the edge of the mini spiral impatiently as you suppressed the urge to vomit at his behavior. “If you’re not going to order anything, please sit at one of the tables instead so that another customer can take your place at the bar.”

Naoki whimpered and scuttled to hide more as the man stood up. He towered over you and the little boy’s heart started to beat faster with fear.

“Oh, is that right, princess?”

You bristled at the nickname and bit the inside of your cheek to stop some very colorful words from escaping, throwing a hard side glance at your husband when he abruptly stood up with a snarl painted on his face.

Moving to stand in front of him, blocking the man’s view from Shinsou and also stopping your husband at the same time should he do anything reckless, you plastered your best customer service smile on your face.

“Please do not call me that.” You stated, making it clear that you weren’t actually asking. “If you cannot treat me with respect then you should leave.”

“Oh?” The man chuckled, the sound grating against your ears unpleasantly. “And what are you gonna do about it, sweet thing?”

Oh, that was it.

“I’m taken.” You responded dryly, crossing your arms over your chest. “I really don’t appreciate how you’re talking to me, and my husband wouldn’t either.”

He smiled a sinister smile, causing your skin to crawl. “I don’t see him.”

And Shinsou was done letting you take this disrespect.

“Hey.” He barked, standing up to take his place next to you. “If a lady tells you to back off, you listen.”

A snort came from the other and then condescending laughter followed. “Yeah right. All girls are ever good for is being a pretty little thing to show off on your arm, am I right?”

“You’re dead wrong, prick.” Shinsou hissed, indigo alight with unparalleled fury as he came up behind you, wrapping beefy arms around your waist and glaring at the guy who had the audacity to harass you like that. “You don’t talk to anybody like this, especially not my wife.”

The man should’ve taken the obvious warning and backed down but he didn’t. Instead, his interest transformed into judgement and you could visibly see the walls coming down and locking as his hatred overtook his entire being.

“Hybrid, huh?” He sneered in disgust at you. “No wonder you went after someone like her.”

Shinsou’s arms curled around you tighter protectively and he stiffened behind you, coiled like a cobra and ready to strike but you held him back again.

But before you could throw him out of Kaminari’s establishment yourself, someone beat you to it.

In two seconds flat, the man who had been snickering at you and high-fiving his buddies folded over, clutching his stomach as his expression contorted in pain.

Naoki planted his hands on his hips and nodded his head proudly as he kicked the man where it hurt. “No one talks to my Mama like that!!”

“Naoki!!” You cried out.

He had slipped away so quietly and so fast that you didn’t notice in time to stop it.

Leaning over the counter, you spotted him blinking back at you innocently as Yaoyorozu hustled him away from the troublesome men he had just put in his place.

Bakugou appeared, a menacing aura surrounding his broad frame as he loomed over the sniveling man now cowering beneath him.

“You’re fuckin’ lucky she asked you nicely, cause the rest of us ain’t gonna, bastard.” He snapped, explosions popping from his palms.

Twisting his arm behind his back, the fuming man marched out the front door with the captured one in his iron grip squealing like a pig, followed by Kaminari and Sero taking the others with Kirishima cracking his knuckles while flashing a smile over his shoulder, shutting the door behind him. They were going to teach him a little lesson.

Naoki raised his hands high above his head joyfully, a wide smile spread across his face. “Mama, Mama, did you see?! Did I do good?!”

Immediately, you and Shinsou rushed over to Naoki, pulling him in for a hug.

“Are you okay?!” You exclaimed, scanning over him for any injuries, making sure he isn’t hurt. “Naoki, you can’t just run off like that!! Or kick people!!”

He pouted, lowering his hands slightly. “But Papa taught me how!!”

Shinsou collapsed into a fit of laughter when he heard that and your head snapped towards him.

Your eyes glittered with a hint of amusement, wry tone rolling off your tongue. “Did he now?”

Naoki nodded vigorously, his mop of purple hair flopping around on his head. “Yup!! He said that if someone’s mean, then they’re a bully and I can fight back!!”

At this point, you didn’t know whether you should applaud your son or scold your husband for teaching him such things.

Yaoyorozu shook her head as you deftly tickled Naoki’s sides, making him laugh loudly. He looked so very proud of himself, rambling on and on about how he protected you against the big bad scary man, just like his daddy showed him.

Shinsou, who was leaning back against the counter casually as he observed the two of you, pushed off as his son tunneled into his legs.

“Papa, Papa, are you proud of me?” He pleaded to know, staring up at him with wide eyes just like a koala as he hugged his father’s shins.

Shinsou patted his head, brushing the wispy curls away from his eyes and chuckled. “Of course I am, squirt.”

“Toshi!!” You scolded good-naturedly, pushing up onto your feet.

Despite the talk about how nonviolence is a better route you knew would have to come later, you simply picked up Naoki and rested him on your hip as Shinsou tapped your cheek and murmured into your ear that he was going to go check on things outside.

He tucked your hair behind your ear. “Will you be alright?”

You nodded reassuringly. “Of course. Go. But don’t beat him up too badly, love.”

Shinsou huffed out a curt laugh, the waggle of his eyebrows making you giggle, dissipating the tense atmosphere in an instant.

When he disappeared from the establishment, you took Naoki to the back room to get away from all the craziness and clamor that came with your son kicking the prick in the balls. Midoriya offered to help Todoroki with serving the food while you took care of your son.

“Here you go, little one.” You whispered as you gathered up the coloring books and crayons hidden away in the bigger desk, placing it on the smaller one Tokoyami built just for him.

Naoki clapped his hands excitedly, making grabby hands for it, a happy noise emitting from him as soon as gave it to him. “Thank you, Mama!!”

While he busied himself with coloring in a tiger with blues and yellows, you kept him company. That was, until the door clicked open.

You stood in a second, running over to him and flung your arms around his neck to hug him tight. Naoki remained engrossed in coloring in the Disney Princess on the page as you checked over the black panther.

“You okay?” You whispered shakily, a hint of fear slipping in as your collected façade cracked.

Shinsou rested his forehead against yours, breathing softly as he cupped your jaw. “Yes, I’m alright. Don’t worry, doll.”

The corners of your mouth twitched as you protested childishly, “... ‘m not worried.”

He exhales sharply, chuckling faintly at your characteristic stubbornness and hummed nonchalantly. “Whatever you say, princess.”

He lowered his voice, murmuring repeatedly that he was okay as your trembling fingers brushed over his bruised knuckles. They were a little busted up and bloody from a particularly hefty punch he delivered to the jerk’s jaw. He was going to feel that in the morning.

Shinsou kept you in his embrace for as long as Naoki took to finish coloring his picture. By the time he did, you had calmed down enough to go back out and finish your shift.

Wiping sweaty palms on your uniform, you sniffled and raised your head up high. You could do this. You had come a long way from the little girl who became paralyzed at the mere sight of a drop of blood.

He was a bit battered but he would heal. He was okay.

As you bustled about behind the counter, fighting back a smile as Kaminari sashayed up to you and asked for your favorite so that he could give it back to you, you laughed out loud when Shinsou smacked him upside the head for doing such a thing.

Naoki ran around, looking for more bullies to kick in the balls before Shoji caught onto what he was doing and diverted his attention to helping Jirou spin some tunes, with some earplugs in, of course, so that his hearing wasn’t damaged.

Shinsou’s cheeks colored as you stretched up on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his temple.

“Thank you for defending my honor.” You whispered somewhat teasingly. “It’s nice to know that my boys have my back.”

His chest rumbled with laughter and an arm looped around your middle, drawing you close to his side as the night rush slowed down and you were finally given a chance to breathe. Tail wrapping around your hip, the cool metal of his ring kissed your skin as his fingers intertwined with yours.

Ignoring the banter of an indignant Naoki and a pouty Kaminari, Shinsou nudged his nose against your temple and sighed softly.

“Forever and always, doll.”

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corvus--rex · 3 years

Text

This prologue is going on longer than I thought, but it will be over soon, probably one more short chapter. But until then, I'm so sorry, have some baby Keith angst.

one more for the Galra cat glossary: tehrl - a miniature feline (smaller than a housecat) that are kept as pets and pest control

~*~*~*~

They had been traveling for over a day, stopping only when necessary. It was night again, and Krolia sat in the carriage, watching the landscape pass by, the sleeping form of her kit curled against her side. She tucked the soft blanket around him more snugly, a tender smile on her lips as he let out a soft, contented purr and snuggled harder against his mother. One hand kept him close while the other reached under the neckline of her traveling dress to pull out the depiction of Marmora she always wore.

Marmora was the Galra central goddess. A queen of legend, she was deified after her death for having managed to unify the disparate Galra kingdoms against a common enemy. Before then, the Unilu hadn’t been thought of as a threat by anyone, the race of small, four-armed goblins more of an annoyance than anything. But they were clever, and made up for their size with numbers. They knew that to attack a place like Altea was suicide, but the constantly-warring Galra kingdoms would be far easier. Marmora called for the separate kingdoms to unify under her banner to go to war against the threat. While they tacitly agreed at first, soon the other kingdoms realized that they never would have survived without her leadership. The Unilu were soundly defeated and Marmora led the Galra to a new age for their race, one that had continued for generations.

Krolia ran her thumb across the relief set into her medallion. The ancient Galra queen stood proudly, her sword-bearing arm held high, the other holding a ball of violet flame. She stared at it, drawing some comfort from her ancestor before letting the pendant drop. She turned back to the carriage’s small window and watched the land change from the deep, dark woods of Daibazaal to the green forests of Altea. It would take at least another two days of travel to reach the capitol. They would arrive exhausted from their journey and she could only hope that she would reach it before any messenger from Zarkon and that King Alfor would welcome them.

The little prince had no trouble keeping himself occupied during his waking hours, something Krolia was infinitely grateful for. He still believed that they were on a surprise vacation and that they would be meeting his father somewhere along the way. She kept it to herself, but she had felt their bond snap when they were not far from the castle. She knew what the stretch of distance felt like, the pain of longing for her mate when they were separated by royal duty. This was not that. This was a ship’s line breaking, the thick rope hitting her like a whip’s crack. This was glass shattering on a stone floor, glittering shards spread wide. It left her raw and bleeding, with a deep ache for a mate she would never see again. Krolia let herself feel it only in the dark of night, where she would wrap herself in her voluminous cloak tighter, hold her kit closer, and let the tears fall silently.

Another full day of traveling through Altea, and Keith was beginning to become bored of the endless carriage ride. Leaving his coloring on the floor, he climbed onto the seat and into his mother’s lap, immediately finding the soft fur of his tail and running his tiny claws through it.

“Where are we going, Mama?” he asked. “When are we gonna get there? Where’s Papa?”

Krolia sighed. She knew her kit’s inquisitive nature wouldn’t stay quiet for long and that she would have to tell him sooner rather than later. She decided that answering his questions in order would be best.

“We’re going to Altea, little one. We should be there around this time tomorrow.” She paused, knowing that there were parts of their last night in their home that weren’t for little ears. “Your Papa – he’s – I’m so sorry, kit. Your Papa won’t be coming with us.”

Keith was too young to understand what his mother wasn’t saying. “Why?” he asked innocently, “Did Papa hafta go on a trip again?” He was familiar with his father’s diplomatic meetings, sometimes in places far from the Daibazaal capitol and their home.

Krolia sighed again, willing her tears back. “No, kit. There are bad people in our home now, and I don’t know when we’ll be able to go back. We’re going to Altea to ask for their help. Your Papa sacrificed himself so we could get away safely.”

The kit’s face screwed up in confusion. “What bad people? And what’s sa…sack-if-iced?”

“People your Papa and I thought we trusted. One of the generals of our army, Zarkon. He wants to rule Daibazaal himself instead of your Papa. He decided to take what he wanted, and your Papa died so we can be safe.”

Keith only had a vague understanding of death. His only encounter with it had been when his pet tehrl died after being poisoned by an angry former member of castle staff. Their dismissal, to no one’s surprise, had been due to behavioral problems and killing the small prince’s beloved pet had earned them a stay in the city jail for a few months. Keith at first couldn’t understand why the miniature feline wouldn’t play with him like it always did. But his guard sent for the queen, and Krolia explained that the tiny cat had died and what that meant. She allowed her small kit to hold something of a funeral for the animal, but his child’s attention span moved on to something else not long after, even though she knew he still missed his companion. It seemed that the meaning of death hadn’t progressed in his mind beyond his lost pet, and it was a concept he couldn’t quite apply to his father.

“You remember Rrahr?”

Keith nodded, thinking back to finding his tehrl motionless on the floor by its food dish. Something clicked, and he looked up at his mother, eyes wide. “Is that what happened to Papa?” he asked, his voice trembling, “Did the bad people hurt my Papa so he can’t come back?” His ears flattened and his tail dropped, suddenly afraid of his mother’s answer.

“They did. I am so sorry, little one. Your Papa’s not coming back.”

Violet eyes quickly filled with tears that spilled over, leaving dark stains running down the fine, soft fur, and he scrambled in his mother’s lap, throwing his arms around her neck, sobs racking his small body. Krolia held him, running her claws through his hair, trying to hold it together for him. But she couldn’t, not in the face of her son’s innocence, and held him tightly while her own tears fell, privately mourning the loss of King Davvik in the roles he cherished most; those of beloved Alpha and mate to Krolia, and the devoted and loving father to his young son. She held Keith until his sobs subsided into hiccupped tears and finally into the even breath of sleep. When she was sure she wouldn’t wake him, Krolia tucked herself against the back of the deep velvet cushion and wrapped her thick cloak around her sleeping kit, and let sleep take her as well.

Keith was withdrawn and quiet for their last day of travel. His toys and pencils couldn’t hold his attention, and he sat beside Krolia, arms wrapped around his stuffed rakhai and stared out the window. He only perked up the smallest amount when they entered Altea’s capitol. He saw the glowing white spires of the castle and turned to his mother, tugging on her sleeve.

“Is that where we’re going, Mama?” he asked quietly.

Krolia nodded. “Yes, it is, kit. We haven’t been stopped by the city guard, so it looks like we’re safe for now. I’ll need to talk to King Alfor and then I’ll know what’s going to happen, alright?”

Keith sniffled, burying his face in his favorite stuffed animal. “I want Papa,” he said through a new round of tears.

Krolia picked him up, hugging him in her lap. “I know, kit. I do too. We’ll just have to take our home back for him.” The combination of finally arriving in Altea’s capitol city and her son’s grief gave her new determination. Queen Krolia of Daibazaal would reclaim her throne, restore Marmora’s line, and ensure that no one would ever forget what happened that night.

~*~*~*~

Intro | Prologue pt 1 | Prologue pt 2

#my writing #galtean klance #royal klance #Prince Keith #Prince Lance #galra keith #altean lance #magic #Keith is a purple kitty #Lance is a brat #keith kogane #lance mcclain #klance #keith x lance #abo #omegaverse #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender

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vanserraseris · 3 years

Note

END OF PART XV - Ok, so that is the final part (there will be an epilogue, but this is pretty much the end). Eris is not doing too well, just a warning that there is mentions of blood. Thank you to everyone who reads.

OH MY GOD IM SO SORRY I TOOK FOREVER TO GET THIS UP. and omgggg im so sad this is ending soon

Prince of Ashes. Part XV.

Eris jolted awake, lurching to a sitting position, nearly falling out of his bed as he tried to calm his breathing. It took him a moment to recognize that he was in his old rooms at The Forest House, not his cottage.

“Not real,” Eris spoke into his empty room, his eyes clenched shut, “Not real.” Eris hadn’t seen his brothers die, and it was on nights like these when he wished he had, if only to know that the dreams weren’t real.

In his dreams, his worst nightmares, Cato and Owain would beg Eris to save them and all he could do was watch as they met their end. The Mother must truly hate him, Eris thought, to torment him like that in his sleep.

Eris fisted his hands in the sheets, hating the quiet of the room and quickly lighting a fire only to fill the horrible silence. The flames danced, tiny embers popping off the logs and falling to the dark wood outside the fireplace. His room was still too quiet.

Eris took a deep breath as he tried to settle his nerves and almost tripped as he hurtled for the bathroom. Eris fell to his knees in front of the toilet, bracing himself over the porcelain bowl as he retched, glad that he’d once again forgotten to eat dinner as he coughed over and over again. Each time Eris took a breath, he could smell the blood on his hands. Owain had laughed at him once decades ago, claiming that Eris had a better nose than his hounds.

Eris curled his hands into fists at the memory, not wanting to think about his brother. Eris, upon his fathers orders, had spent the last two days torturing a rebel group that had formed a steady following in the past ten years. The smell of their blood, clinging to the pale skin of Eris’s knuckles and getting stuck under his nails, was making him dizzy.

He tried not to think about how much it bothered him to do those sorts of things, but at night, as soon as his head hit his pillows, his mind wouldn’t stop reeling. He could practically hear his father’s voice, knowing he’d call him weak, knowing his father would call him a horrible heir. His father’s voice often battled with that of his mother’s. Eris growled, pushing himself up off the floor, the iron scent of faerie blood lingering in his nostrils as he stumbled to the sink.

He reached for the bar of soap on the counter, trying again to wash the smell of blood from his hands. The honeysuckle scented soap did nothing but mask the smell of the blood, and he knew that he could wash them a hundred times that night and it still wouldn’t make anything better. Eris had washed his hands raw before he’d fallen onto his bed, completely exhausted. He hadn’t even bothered changing into sleeping clothes, had merely kicked off his boots and thrown his jacket onto a chair.

The smell of the blood was stronger as Eris splashed cool water onto his face and he fought his urge to gag once more.

Eris walked back into his bedroom, drying his hands with a small towel, but he paused when he saw his reflection in the mirror. Eris inched closer, dropping the towel onto the dresser, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he placed the palms of his hands on the smooth wooden surface. There were wild flames in his eyes, flaring uncontrollably in reds, oranges, and yellows.

Eris frowned, willing the fire to disappear. His frown deepened when nothing happened. “I’m in control,” Eris muttered. He tried picturing dying embers in his mind, just as his mother had taught him, but if it were possible, the flames seemed brighter. “I’m in control,” Eris repeated, his voice a low growl, the fingers of his one hand curling into a fist. Eris hadn’t struggled with taming his magic like this in over a century.

He was still looking in the mirror, at the sharp lines of his face, at the harsh line of his mouth, as he scowled. Eris thought he had never looked more like his father.

One moment, Eris had been standing still, the next, he’d moved as quick as a snake. He threw his fist forward with all his strength, the glass of the mirror cracking under the impact, his flaming eyes still visible in every shard. Eris punched the mirror again, small fragments of glass clinking against the floor.

The smell of faerie blood hadn’t really gotten any better, Eris realized, probably because it was still under his nails, in the lines of his palm, in the wrinkles on the knuckles of each finger.

A beastly snarl ripped from his throat as he grabbed the carved wooden frame of the mirror, ripping it off the dresser only to slam it against the floor. The glass finally fell from the frame, shattering, but Eris continued to hit the frame against the hardwood floor.

Eris was tired and angry and he didn’t want to see his own reflection, would have preferred if he never had to look in a mirror again. He broke the wood of the mirror, splinters littered around his bare feet along with the small pieces of glass. Eris threw what remained in his hands at the opposite wall, surprising himself when it turned into ash before it crashed against the stone. Eris ran a trembling hand through his long hair, his chest heaving with each breath.

He took a step back, leaning against the dresser before he slid to the floor, eyes clenched shut. “I’m in control,” he whispered, hoping the lie would become a reality.

Eris had always been aware of the little control he had in his life, but only very recently had he started feeling like a puppet with strings. Everything his father asked, Eris did, a cruel smile on his face all the while. Eris couldn’t even bear to look at his mother, didn’t want to face that kind of disappointment.

Eris breathed in from his nose slowly, opening his eyes as he reached for a larger shard of the mirror right by his hand. He angled it so he could see his face, and tightened his hold along the edges when he saw there were still flames in his eyes.

Blood leaked from where Eris gripped the sharp glass, dripping along his hand, down to his wrist, and onto the floor. He had hoped that perhaps the pain would anchor him, offer him some control on his magic, but it didn’t even hurt.

“Eris?”

Eris flinched, startled, dropping the bloodied shard and knocking the back of his head against the dresser with a loud thud. His mother had spoken so softly, he shouldn’t have jumped like that. He ran his uninjured hand through his hair, “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

She ignored his question, pushing the heavy door to his room open and slipping inside, asking another question of her own. “What are you doing?”

Eris took a breath, “I’ve made a real mess of things.” He waved his bloodied hand in front of him, and the Lady of Autumn gasped, but Eris just continued speaking. “Just a horrible, horrible mess of things.”

“What happened?” Eris could hear the panic in his mother’s tone, but he just shrugged, shaking his head.

She walked towards him on silent bare feet, “Watch the glass,” Eris barked. He must have looked quite frightening with the flames in his eyes shining bright in the dark of the room.

She didn’t even pause, expertly stepping around the pieces of the mirror, before she sat down right beside him. Close, but not touching. Her russett eyes hadn’t stopped looking at his hand. “Oh, Eris,” she breathed, a slight tremor in her voice, “There’s glass in your knuckles.” Eris hadn’t noticed. When he lifted his other hand to brush the pieces away, his mother placed a hand on his arm. “Not like that,” she said a tad sharply.

Eris faced her, and while she might have been slightly horrified to see what he’d done to his hand, she reminded Eris of the female he remembered from his childhood. She lifted her chin, her mouth set in a firm line and her back straight. Even in her nightgown, her hair in a messy braid over her shoulder, she was a force to be reckoned with. “You’ll make it worse like that.” She reached past his head to grab the towel he’d thrown onto the dresser, “Give me your hand.”

Eris scowled, he was too old to be getting told what to do by his mother. She raised a brow at him and Eris scrunched his nose, doing as she said. With gentle fingers, she slowly pried all the pieces of glass from his hand, wincing when blood dripped from his knuckles. “Tell me what happened,” it wasn’t a request.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Eris mumbled, he definitely wasn’t going to tell her why, he didn’t want her to know what kept him up at night. “And then I couldn’t get the scent off.”

The Lady of Autumn lifted her son’s hand closer to her face, sniffing subtly, “What scent?”

Eris shook his head, refusing to answer. He didn’t know whether or not the High Lord had told his wife what his son had been spending much of his time doing as of late.

“I smell nothing but blood, Eris.” There was no judgement, no frustration, in her tone. She held his large hand in one of her much smaller ones, certain there was no more glass, as she pushed the towel against his knuckles.

“Me too,” Eris muttered, amber eyes following his mother’s every move. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to his mother for this long. He guessed that it must have been at Cato and Owain’s funeral. Eris hadn’t wanted to speak with her, not after he’d broken his oath to protect Lucien, not after he’d managed to fail at the only thing his mother had ever asked of him. Eris felt a burning behind his eyes and blinked a few times, taking a small breath.

His mother flipped his hand once his knuckles had mostly healed, but the deep cut he’d gotten from gripping onto the sharp shard of the mirror was still bleeding. It might even scar, Eris thought. The Lady of Autumn sighed, “I wish I knew what was going on in that head of yours.”

Eris was glad she didn’t know what was going on in his head, thanked the cauldron that his mother was not a daemati. His head was a horrible place to be, especially lately, now that he felt overwhelmed with everything.

Lagos had tried apologizing countless times. Eris had kicked him out of his cottage, had pulled rank and ordered him not to return, but that hadn’t stopped him yet. Eris wondered how long he’d keep it up. Eris hadn’t tried talking to Micah, and he knew perfectly well that Micah wouldn’t come to him, that he’d let Eris make the first move always and that wouldn’t change. Widge always came to the cottage and sat with him as he worked; Eris couldn’t shake the feeling that he did so out of pity.

Not only that, but Cato and Owain’s deaths meant that Beron was pitting Maddox and Priam against him. Eris was almost certain they wanted to kill him just to prove to their father that they weren’t as worthless as he’d always thought they were. Rufus was still trying to convince Eris that gaining their father’s trust was an impossible goal, and Eris knew that his actions would eventually push Rufus away. And Lucien was gone, exiled to Spring, and he hated his oldest brother.

Eris clenched his jaw, staring fixedly at the flames flickering in the fireplace on the opposite side of the room.

His mother placed a hand on Eris’s chin, tilting his face so that he looked at her concerned gaze, “Tell me what troubles you.”

Eris could have died at the sob that escaped his lips. He felt a rush of shame, his cheeks heating, as his mother’s eyes filled with tears as well.

His mother hadn’t seen him cry since he was eighteen. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d broken down like this, especially in front of somebody else. Many things troubled Eris, but he’d gotten very good at hiding behind sneers and scowls. Eris didn’t like following his father’s orders, Eris didn’t like smelling the blood on his hands, Eris didn’t like looking in the mirror.

Eris brought his uninjured hand to his face, covering his eyes with it as another sob fell from his mouth. He didn’t like the way his mother looked as if she saw into his soul, if she looked too close he feared she wouldn’t find one. Eris felt his mother wrap her arms around him, her hand going to the back of his head.

“I’m so sorry, Eris,” she whispered, “I’m so terribly sorry.”

Eris didn’t know why she was apologizing. He tried to shake his head, but his mother was still holding him tight.

“I never should have made you take that oath,” she spoke with her lips pressed to his hair. “I’m so sorry, Eris.”

Maybe she was right. That fucking vow had been the start of his downward spiral. Or maybe it hadn’t been. Maybe he’d been spiralling for centuries.

Eris didn’t say anything, he just ever so slowly wrapped his arms around his mother, his chin resting on her too-slim shoulder. Eris didn’t really like being held, hadn’t liked it as a child, but this wasn’t too bad.

He made a funny sounding whimper and bit his tongue to keep himself from doing it again.

“Eris, tell me what troubles you,” she repeated, her fingers pushing his hair over his shoulder as she moved back to look into his eyes. His mother lifted a hand to his face, gently wiping at the tears on his cheeks. “Please.”

Eris shook his head, he could not tell her what he was feeling, not really. His mother had enough to worry about.

He knew her thoughts were with Lucien, and if they weren’t, she was probably thinking about Cato and Owain. She didn’t need to spend any time thinking about what was troubling him, especially since Eris knew it would break her heart to know that he was unhappy.

“I’m alright,” Eris lied.

“Eris, please,” the Lady of Autumn tried again.

Eris took a deep breath.

He needed to become High Lord, to sit on the Autumn Court throne, and he would do just about anything to steal his father’s crown. Beron had raised a monster, and it would come back to ruin him. He was the Tamer of Flames, the Heir of Autumn, the Prince of Ashes. He was not broken, and he would not break.

So Eris just flashed his mother an empty smile, the iron scent of blood still burning through his nose as he spoke.

“I’m just tired.”

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

Text

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 9.3

Childe elected to ignore your groan of pain when he yanked you to your feet. "No hard feelings, comrade."

"I-I'm gonna kill you," you breathed. "I'll kill you and that damned witch if it's the last thing I do." A cold hand pressed to your side while the harbinger threw your other arm over his shoulder to escort you inside.

"I suppose I'll have to train you then if that's your goal."

He wasn't joking; the two of you would remain at a stalemate until your strength grew. He taught you--what you assumed was--almost everything he knew, though for you to reap the full benefits of his knowledge would take years of training. Despite this he pushed you over and over again, every day, after the wound he gave you closed. He didn't give you the courtesy of healing completely before initiating fights with you. He didn't go easy on you either--but it's not like you would've wanted him to in the first place. At least your sparring sessions gave you an outlet to take out your frustrations on.

You didn't count the days that passed. You didn't call for Xiao. You didn't rely on him to save you when all is said and done. It was time to rescue yourself; if you overran the palace on your own, then other nations wouldn't need to get involved on your behalf. If the palace fell, no one except you would be held responsible. You were okay with that. If it meant Xiao, Aether and Zhongli would be excluded from the wrath of the cryo archon, then your struggles were more than worth it.

Yet with every passing day, more and more Fatui agents were injected with the serums that contained your blood--and survived. The only thing that made their successful adaptation possible was the sealing of your and Xiao's bond. With that thought in mind, you were growing increasingly impatient. You were the one that insisted upon training for most of the day, not Childe. You were the one looking for a fight.

"Why're you doing this?" You asked one day while your hand absently trailed down to the fresh scar on your side where he had impaled you.

"Doing what?"

"Training me. Isn't it a stupid move to train someone how to fight when they're intent on killing you? If I was you, I would've just let me bleed out in the snow back then."

"If I didn't train you, I would be missing out on one of the best fights of my life."

"Is that supposed to flatter me?"

"It's the truth. Where else am I supposed to find a worthy opponent? At my current power level, I'd have more luck with creating one." Childe conjured his bow and twirled it in his hand, seemingly debating something that was on his mind. "With your improved skills, I think we'd be able to take the other harbingers."

You froze. "What? Why would you say that? Whatever happened to your undying loyalty?"

"My loyalty for the Tsaritsa and my respect for my coworkers are two entirely different matters. What I really care about is fighting. It's been so long since I've had an exhilarating battle, even after Aether showed up. I would give anything to feel that thrilled again. And that, dear ojou-chan, is where you come in."

"I'm not fighting you for the thrills. I will kill you, I'll make sure of it." It's insulting that he'd even look at your anger as a type of entertainment! The nerve of this guy--

"Well until then I think we could stir up quite the trouble, you and I, don't you think?" His eyes finally left his weapon and locked onto you.

"...What exactly are you implying, Tartaglia?" Narrowed suspicious pupils returned his mischievous ones.

He didn't answer, instead leaving you with an ominous smirk and returning to the palace walls. Why should you trust a word that fell from his mouth after the Lantern Rite stunt he pulled? Maybe a small part of you wanted to believe he had some inkling of good in him, but you forced that wishful thinking down into the depths of your soul. Childe betrayed you so many times; it was in his nature to do so. He would never be done deceiving you either. You were sure of it despite the doubts that weighed on your mind.

.........................

"Bow before Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa." La Signora crossed her arms over her chest when you just glared at the dark throne that sat beneath the shadows.

"I think not."

The clicking of the harbinger's heels echoed in the silent room as everyone held their breaths. No one dared stand up to the cryo archon; it was unthinkable, even considered treason to question her actions. This would be the first meeting with the god since you formed a contract with her. And yet despite your quivering knees, you didn't remove your disrespectful glare from the throne.

"I wasn't asking." Fingers gripped your chin and forced you to look Signora in the face at an uncomfortably close distance. "You know the drill. Bow."

A beat of silence hung heavily in the air and then an awkward cough came from one of the Fatui advisors to your far right. You didn't blink. "Did I stutter?"

Signora's lips curled into a half-amused smirk before her fingers let go of your chin and were replaced by a palm slapping you instead. Her nails broke skin, but your expression never changed even when the stinging pain rang through your ear. "Have you forgotten who you serve?"

"She's not my god."

"Maybe not the one you worship, but I am the one you serve," the Tsaritsa leaned forward from her place on the throne and gestured for the Fair Lady to return to her side. "Tell me, why did you request to see me?"

A quick glance was sent Childe's away as if to check yourself. You had decided it best to at least try the peaceful way out before throwing yourself into a suicide mission. If worse came to worse, at least you'd be able to put your new knowledge to the test. "I'm no longer working for you." The archon's silence urged you to continue. "You don't need me here anymore. You got what you wanted. I'm going to return to Liyue."

"Is that so?"

"I will leave regardless of your answer."

"And you think I'd just let you walk out of here after all I've done for you?" The temperature dropped, but it displayed an emotion that you couldn't put your finger on. "I gifted you your vision, spared your life and that of your friends, and you insult me in return?"

What is this feeling of dread in my stomach? Your fists tightened and you took a deep breath to steady your nerves. "The trials are over now that Dottore's injections work. That was our deal, was it not? You want to break our contract? I thought you were more credible than that," you tested.

"I know what you've been thinking," the archon's thin lips formed a sinister grin. "I know you're plotting to cause an uproar, and I am telling you now that you will fail. Heed my words, Mezzetin, you are and always will be under my control."

"Wh-What did you just say...?" Your heartbeat drummed loudly in your ears and you knees felt like they would give out beneath you. This...This happened before. When did she say that? Where did I hear these words from? Cold, desolate eyes watched you carefully as the room spun beneath your feet. "Stay...away..."

"You work for me, not the other way around. If you leave now, I'll give the order to kill those friends of yours. You're not done until I say you're done."

"You wouldn't--!" Bile burned the back of your throat, and a shaky hand covered your mouth in case you suddenly couldn't hold it in. "You...you..." An unsettling realization came to light.

"Do you understand the position you're in, Mezzetin?"

"It was...You gave me those nightmares! Those were all you?"

"You don't think I'm oblivious to your desires, do you? You will always be under my control."

"If you dare touch him I'll--!" Hundreds of shards manifested behind you and simultaneously shot at the throne. The more that shattered against the seat and back wall, the more that manifested and replaced them.

The ones that barreled nearest to the Tsaritsa diverted their path and shattered against the back wall like they had a mind of their own. Signora used her catalyst to redirect the remaining shards to you. Luckily none of them landed a strike on your skin, but a charged arrow of Childe's landed before your feet and you slipped on the forming ice. His hydro blade was immediately at your throat, along with Signora hovering over you with an annoyed look on her face. The three of you were surrounded by Fatui officers in an instant; despite their capabilities, they were slower than the harbingers.

"If she makes a move, kill her," the archon calmly ordered, completely unbothered by the commotion.

Signora had her men drag you away to the all-too familiar exit that led to the cells beneath the palace. They forced your head forward so you didn't see the Tsaritsa recline back in her seat and into the shadows.

The archon swiped her finger across her pale cheekbone and warily inspected the fresh blood that had run down the side of her face. I missed one? One of your shards did manage to hit her. Such a measly attack shouldn't have injured me, she thought as she stared at her fingers in awe and concern. While your power had grown to a certain extent thanks to Childe's training, it was by no means anywhere near equivalent to his--much less equivalent to a god's. Your strikes, while powerful, shouldn't have been able to hurt the cryo archon. Yet here she was, staring at the blood you drew from her.

She recalled the wild look in your eyes when you decided to attack her. Such a beautiful, pitiful sight that held an immeasurable lack of sanity and rational thought. Your rage was feral, but just like a wild animal, so was your fear of being caged. She could see it in your stance; you were all bark and little bite. The soft interior within her hardened heart actually admired your bravery...only a little, though. If she were to achieve her goals, that flame of admiration would quickly be extinguished since it had no place in such a cruel world.

Her thumb smoothed over her bloodied fingers while she thought quietly to herself. It shouldn't have been possible to harm her. Not on your own, not even with your vision. It was then that it dawned on her the true meaning of your bond with Morax's sole-surviving warrior adeptus.

So this is the power of the Vigilant Yaksha.

#genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #say my name and ill be there #xiao fanfiction #genshin x reader #xiao x reader

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emile-hides · 3 years

Text

Mini Disasters

What do I always say? Make the content you want to see in the world. Even if making that content starts at 4 in the morning, do it.

Fatgum X Reader (gender be damned), with a lot of funky intern shenanigans because I personally love the entire FatFam and wish to write for them.

“And this is....?” You stood just beyond the door to Fatgum’s agency, chaos reigned behind you that you’d more or less chosen to ignore.

Fatgum had rushed to go on patrol this morning with Suneater and someone else you only barely caught a glance of. He was hiding them from you, which on it’s own was a problem, but more so the issue was he left you alone with a very easily bored Red Riot and Real Steel, whomst were now causing the aforementioned chaos behind you.

“Momo Yaoyorozu!” The girl stood perfectly straight, her hands placed politely folded in front of her... skirt? Belts? What were kids thinking with these hero costumes now a days?

You glanced up at Fatgum, who was wearing a face desperate for approval, a shaken smile and sweat of bullets as he happily proclaimed, “Creati! She’s interning here at the agency! Just started today!”

“Thankyou for having me.” Creati, the new intern, as you just learned, bowed gracefully to you, “I look forward to learning from you.”

Well. That was a better introduction then Real Steel had given, at least. You glanced back at Fatgum, still desperately awaiting your reaction, clearly hopeful you’d except the new intern.

Taking a soft breath you asked in an almost wicked tone, “And who recommended you to us, Creati?”

The girl popped up from her bow, eyes sparkling, completely unaware of your dripping with ill intent tone, “Amajiki-Senpai! Sense I’m in the same class as Kirishima, I decided why not.”

Your head turned so fast it gave an ominous crack as your eyes honed onto Suneater, the true culprit behind the ever growing sea of interns.

He was a bleeding heart, that one, anyone who shows the slightest hint of self doubt, he sends to Fatgum’s care. It shows what a good job Fatgum had done with the boy, and that he trusted his mentor to do the same for others. Overall it was a good thing.

But there should still be a limit.

Suneater did his best to run, but with the destruction of two rambunctious 15 year olds in his path, and the emotional exhaustion of going on patrol with Fatgum, there wasn’t far he could go.

“Amajiki...” You spoke low, speaking his name like a raged mother may do. He gulped, pulling on his cloak. Before you could say much else though, a pair of delicate hands took yours.

Bright eyes sparkled at you, Creati held tight to your hands, shining like the sun before you, “I look forward to learning from you.” She’d said that before but... God now with her eyes on you, shining, hopeful.

You were weak to sunshine like hers.

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

“Honeycakes...” Taishiro gave a whine from his desk, even his massive form was positively shrunk by the stacks of paperwork on the wooden surface.

“Busy.” You spoke bluntly, gathering up the sharded remains of a very nice wooden tea table Yaoyorozu had made to show off her quirk. It existed for only a few moments before Tetsutetsu power slammed Kirishima into it.

You could feel Taishiro’s puppy dog eyes from across the room. You glanced back at him, he was sunken, with his head on his desk and his pen balanced on his nose. He was bored, and tired.

You sighed, “What do you have completed?” You walked over to the desk, making Taishiro lift himself up as he slid a much smaller stack of papers to you, placed for no reason in an ‘out’ bin.

Sat comfortably on his knee, you looked over the completed cases and files Taishiro had already filled out. With you in closer proximity, Taishiro found himself invigorated to get back to work.

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

“They’re out...” Amajiki spoke softly, glancing back over his shoulder at his fellow interns.

“What do you mean they’re out??? Should we call somebody???” Tetsutetsu spoke at his regular, maximum volume.

Kirishima, quick to put a hand over his mouth, asked “Like asleep? What did they sleep in Fat’s office? All night?”

Yaoyorozu gave a soft gasp, “Scandalous! Are they dating? Oh let me see!!” The girl’s excitment got the better of her as she pushed her way to the door, almost toppling Amajiki on her way.

Inside Fatgum’s office on a couch not far from the door, you rested atop the massive hero, still asleep despite it being rather late into the morning, almost noon infact. Very unprofessional of both of you. Though to both your credit, you’d been awake 2 hours ago, and all hours before then, finishing paperwork.

“Please be quiet...” Amajiki gave a soft protest as he attempted to close the door, only for Kirishima and Tetsu to dog pile onto him, trying to peek in on your love life as well.

“Yeah, are they dating?? You’ve been here the longest, Amajiki, surely you know!” Kirishima looked down at his squashed upper classman, who just gave an exhausted sigh.

Tetsutetsu took the moment of shuffling to pull away from Kirishima, pushing the office door the rest of the way open, “Who CARES if they’re dating, let’s get a move on!! We’ve got interning to do!!!!”

Tetsu’s three fellow interns quickly tackled him to the ground, struggling to cover his loud mouth as they floundered on the floor. They’re lucky that, despite the ruckus, you remained asleep.

“Shhhhh!!” Yaoyorozu hissed at Tetsutetsu before carefully crawling off him, “Let them rest.” She spoke softly, pulling a blanket from her arm to toss over Taishiro’s sleeping form. “I’m sure we can find something small to do until they wake up.”

Yaoyorozu led Kirishima and Tetsutetsu back out of the office, confident she could keep the two well entertained and under control until either of their mentors were ready to take them on patrol.

Amajiki made the correct decision of joining the two of you on the couch for a well deserved nap, deciding if the agency caught fire, or collapsed, or exploded, this would be a much better final resting place than in the middle of whatever those three would get up to.

They’d have a lot of cleaning to do before any of them were allowed back on patrol.

#Emile's Arts #Fatgum X Reader #Taishiro Toyomitsu #Tamaki Amajiki #Eijiro Kirishima #Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu #Momo Yoayorozu #Fatfam content for ya soul baby #I simply wanted some soft Fatgum X Reader content #And I decided to make it FatFam related #This took me like. 40 minutes + Breaks?#So like. 30 minutes.#Longer than it use to take but eh.#I'll probably make more of these #Momo's getting a new hero costume just you wait #She deserves better and she will get better #Momo thinks she's got her brothers handled #but she's honestly. Just as bad as them #She's simply easily influenced #And they are rowdy little shits #Tamaki please be a big brother and stop them I'm begging you buddy #This is barely about Fatgum but ldkgklsdkglsdkglf #the VIBES are there.#That's what matters #It can be dating or it can be he simply likes you whatever you prefer #Enjoy~

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction || He Accidentally Hurts You [Request] [TW]

A/N: I Do not condone the hitting of a partner unless you know it’s play fighting but please know that there are mentions of slapping and hitting BY ACCIDENT within this reaction post. Love you All. Stay Safe.

PS: If there are some spelling errors I’m sorry, I wrote these while I was sitting in A&E with my mum lmao (Everythings chill she just had an xray)

Seokjin:

The fight all started over something so microscopic that it didn't even need to be a fight but it was being blown out of proportion. You'd gone out shopping with Jin, and Jimin for an upcoming event when you decided to go for lunch, everything was fine right up until the moment you had to pay. You wanted to treat them both so you took out your own card getting ready to pay when Jin decided to rush before you and do it. Something that would happen quite a lot but it was what he said when you got back to your shared apartment that bothered you and started the fight.

"I know how much you struggle with money." Those eight little words that made you feel like your heart had stopped, you and Jin didn't fight a lot but when you did it was always about money. He saw it as his right to pay for everything when you were out and about and maybe it was because of how he was brought up or he was just stuck in his ways but it annoyed you.

"I can pay for whatever I want, I work for a living I have a good job." You told him as you went to get changed thinking the subject would be dropped but it only continued and now you were standing in the bedroom yelling about how you didn't need his money,

"I looked after myself before you came along." You told him and he scoffed at you,

"Barely, you got kicked out of four apartments because of late payments." You hadn't even told him about them meaning he'd done a background check on you or had someone find out more about you.

"How did you know about them?" He fell silent and turned away from you not wanting to get into it but you wanted answers,

"Jin?" You questioned getting closer to him but he wasn't paying attention and turned around too fast catching your cheek with his hand and it connected making a loud slapping sound.

"Shit." You yelled stumbling backwards and sitting on the edge of your bed as you held your cheek, Jin was in front of you in a second holding your face and trying to see if you were okay,

"I'm so sorry! I didn't know- I wasn't- I-"

"Jin," You warned as he tripped over his words trying to talk to you, he frowned and turned your face towards the light. You had a giant red mark where his hand had come into contact with your skin, he began swearing in Korean as he studied your face before going to look for a cold flannel.

"Don't you dare say it's fine." He warned as he walked back into the bedroom and laid the wet cloth across your skin, you stared at him and he was tearing up it was the last thing Jin ever wanted to do.

"It was an accident Jin, I understand." He shook his head at you dramatically which made you giggle softly,

"You should be mad, you should make me sleep on the sofa." He told you as he held the cloth to your cheek but you could never do that to him, you placed your hand over the top of his and he relaxed a little more.

"I was too close, you didn't know. It was an accident." He groaned as you were being so understanding it was one of the many things he loved about you, you always tried to look on the brighter side of things rather than dealing with the negative.

"You sure you're okay?" He questioned you and you nodded at him,

"Positive." You whispered snuggling your face against the cloth and his hands trying to make him relax, you knew what he was like he would think about nothing but this for weeks to come.

"I love you." You whispered leaning up and giving him a kiss,

"Love you too." He kissed you back.

Yoongi:

"Fuck sake! You could have done anything but that was too much!" He yelled at you for what felt like the 100th time that day, you'd gone out together that morning for a breakfast date and the waitress was flirting with him. At first, it didn't really bother you because people would flirt with Yoongi all of the time but this time it annoyed you, whenever she would come over to the table she'd flirt with him and ignore you and it got to the point where it felt as though he was flirting back. Though it was something Yoongi would never do to you because he loved you a lot,

"She was flirting with you, what was I supposed to do?!" You yelled back at him, you'd been in the fight all day and it was starting to get late. All you wanted to do was go to sleep but he kept bringing up that ''accidentally'' pouring a glass of water over someone was wrong,

"Yoongi let's just go to bed, I'm tired." You told him but he didn't care, he was mid-rant and continued yelling at you, at that point you weren't even paying attention to the words he was saying. You'd been fighting all day about something that seemed so insignificant now but Yoongi wasn't going to drop it, he never could. He always knew how to hold a grudge but you didn't see why he was busy defending the waitress.

"I'm going to bed." You mumbled getting up from the sofa and walking past him, you'd just gotten to the door when his hand clasped around your wrist to stop you from moving, something he did a lot but this time it was tight.

"Yoongi?" You questioned but he began yelling again,

"We have to talk about this, you can't walk away just because you don't want to." He yelled at you but you were too busy trying to get his grasp off your wrist, it was starting to hurt and it was like he hadn't noticed that every time he yelled his grip would tighten on you.

"You're hurting me." You whimpered and that was all it took, the fight ended and he pulled you close to his body rubbing your wrist in a soothing motion and checking it over as you sat on the floor together.

"I'll get you some ice for it." He rushed off leaving you alone for a couple of seconds before returning with ice in a ziplock back and a tea towel to wrap it around.

"Yoongi it's fine." You told him as you moved your wrist around but it wasn't about that to Yoongi it was about the fact that he'd just hurt you,

"No it's not, I hurt you." He mumbled as he iced your wrist that wasn't even hurting anymore.

"You didn't mean to." You whispered and he let out a sniffle so you knew he was crying about it so you took his face in your hands and made him look at you.

"Yoongi, I'm fine, it's fine. It was an accident." He nodded at you and he pulled you into his arm looking at the small red mark where his hand had been. Your head rested on his shoulder and he kissed your nose,

"Can we go up to bed now? I'm tired." You whispered to him and he nodded letting you get up from his lap and walk up the stair first while he put the ice away.

When he came up the stairs you were laid in the bed in one of his basketball shirts and waiting for him to cuddle you to sleep, he smiled softly at you and went to get ready for bed happy that you weren't going to hold it again him and you weren't, you knew it was a genuine accident.

Hoseok:

"You don't even get it do you?!" He yelled as you walked through the front door of your apartment, you and Hoseok had gone out for a drink and you ended up dancing together but someone else came to dance with you. You were too busy having fun to notice that it wasn't Hoseok until you turned around to see Hoseok wasn't there anymore but was being pulled out of the club for punching the guy in the face.

"Hobi, I didn't know it wasn't you. I didn't even hear you hit him!" You yelled back at him, he'd been scolding you like you were some teenager that had snuck out in the night.

"He was all over you." He grumbled pushing past you angrily as he wanted to calm down but felt like he couldn't,

"His hands touching you and you just let it happen." You watched as he walked into the kitchen to get himself a drink of water to calm down with but you following him wanting him to face you and talk to you.

"You trust me though right? You trust me that I didn't know it wasn't you?" He shrugged your shoulders and you felt your heart shatter,

"You don't trust me?" He turned towards the sink ignoring your question and drinking from the glass in his hand,

"Hobi?" You questioned but he continued to ignore you,

"If you don't trust me then what's the point in us being together?! I trust you to be halfway across the world surrounded by beautiful women and yet-" You didn't get to to finish your sentence because the glass he was drinking from was thrown at the wall behind you smashing and sending glass shards around the floor and into the back of your leg. You didn't even notice that he'd hurt you until he was on the floor in front of you and trying to stop some blood trickling down your leg.

"Oh shit." You giggled because of the alcohol and sat on the kitchen chair but Hobi was rushing over to the sink and getting the first aid kit you kept under there.

"Hobi, it's nothing." You told him as you saw the tiniest cut on the back of your leg,

"It's not nothing, you're fucking bleeding." He was mad at himself for being able to throw something even in your direction, he didn't mean to but every emotion he had was heightened because of the drinks he'd been having all night,

"Hobi, I've done worse when I've been shaving." It was true, the cut was so microscopic it was nothing compared to leg shaving accidents you had one a week.

"I hurt you." He was crying now and you dropped onto the floor in front of him and cupped his face in your hands,

"We're both drunk, or tipsy. It was an accident and it doesn't hurt." You tried to tell him but he was never going to forgive himself as easily as you'd forgiven him.

"It's not an excuse Y/n, I could have seriously hurt you."

"But you didn't." You pleaded but he was moving away from you, you watched as he got the blankets and pillows out from storage and began putting them on the sofa.

"I'll sleep down here tonight," You raised an eyebrow at him,

"We don't fit on the sofa together, we tried remember?" He stared at you and shook his head,

"No, you're going upstairs."

"No I'm not. I won't sleep without you." You folded your arms across your chest and he stared at you, he knew how stubborn you were when it came to these types of things.

"Fine, but I won't cuddle you will." He said as he put the blankets back into storage,

"You will." You called out as you walked up the staircase to your bedroom.

Namjoon:

It felt like Namjoon had only just gotten back and now he was leaving again, you didn't want to spend the last day you had together fighting but that's exactly what was happening. He was standing in the bedroom trying to pack up his suitcase when you questioned him about when you'd see him again, an innocent enough question but he was stressed out enough without you questioning him more about something he didn't have the answers to,

"I don't know." He mumbled as he folded up clothes and put them into the huge suitcase, it was one that you'd had painted for him. It was a black suitcase with his album art on the front and back.

"Okay, well can I call you when you get to the hotel?" He groaned at you and you looked at the floor, you didn't want to annoy him but you wanted to know when you could talk to him again.

"Fuck I don't know Y/n! Will you just back off?!" He yelled and you stepped away from him going over to the desk in the room and going to study instead of getting on his nerves.

"Why do you have to go on so much?" He asked and you stared at him, you hadn't spoke since the last question and yet he kept talking, it was as if he wanted to start a fight.

"I was just asking when I'd seen you again, I feel like I haven't seen you much."

"You know how it was going to be when we first started dating." He mumbled to you and you nodded in agreement, you were over it now and you thought he was too.

"Do you want me to cook tonight or shall I order something?" The next thing you knew Koya was thrown in your direction and he hit you in the eye. He swore in Korean and sprinted to be in front of you, you held your hand over your eye and he slowly moved it away wanting to see if he'd hurt you,

"I can't open my eye." You groaned as he sat you down on the chair behind you and then left, he came back with a wet cloth and held it over your eye.

"I can't believe I just did that-"

"It was an accident, you're just clumsy." You giggled but he shook his head at you, you weren't supposed to just forgive him like this, you were supposed to get mad at him.

"But I hurt you," You took the cloth from your eye and opened it looking at him with a smile,

"It's fine. He probably just scratched it, it's okay." But your eye was already turning red and Namjoon felt terrible,

"He slipped from my hand, I just got annoyed...I've been stressed in the studio-" You kissed him to shut him up,

"Don't worry about it, take out it is though. I don't want to cook and you definitely aren't cooking for me." He stared up at you as you smiled down at him and he wondered how he ended up with someone so understanding,

"Joonie?" You called out and he was snapped from his daydream.

"Can we get pizza? Or do you fancy something else?" You questioned and he stared at you,

"We can have whatever you want, my treat." You nodded and went on the hunt for a menu while he continued packing up his bag.

Jimin:

Everyone knew how Jimin got when he was drunk, he was like a child who'd had too much sugar and was always jumping around the place which is why you were the sober one of the group that night. Namjoon helped you drag Jimin into your apartment and put him to bed where he promptly passed out,

"Thanks, Joon." You said as you looked up at him he sent you a smile and nodded, you and Namjoon had been friends for years, long before you and Jimin began dating and it was nice to have him as a friend still.

"Anytime," He told you bending down and wrapping his arms around you, as he left you noticed Jimin was awake and staring at you from the bed.

"You hug everyone like that?" He asked in a dramatic tone, he got out of the bed and looked out of the window to make sure Namjoon was gone.

"He's a friend Jimin, your friend." You reminded him but he didn't seem to care in his drunken state,

"Do you hug all of them like that?"

"Like what?" You questioned at what he was implying and he slurred over his words,

"Like you're long lost lovers." You raised an eyebrow at him and he nodded at you,

"That's what I thought!" He yelled and you shook your head at him walking away since he was acting like a child with you.

"Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you." He ordered grabbing your wrist and turning you around but he spun you around a little too quickly and you fell back into the wardrobe door hitting your back and crying out in pain. As soon as he heard your cry he sobered up and dropped to his knees in front of you,

"You okay?!" He panicked and you nodded at him and he reached to touch your back rubbing it gently and earning a hiss from you,

"You're not okay, you’re hurt.” He said in a rush as he realised just how hard he made you hit your back against the wooden door.

“Jimin, it was just a shock.” He helped you to your feet and you began walking towards the bed where he sat you down and lifted up the back of your shirt to see if there was any kind of mark from it,

“I’m such an idiot.” He grumbled but you pushed him to lay down so you could lay down beside him, it didn’t hurt you were just in shock from the impact and the door had brusied you the tiniest amount.

“You’re my idiot.” You whispered to him and he sighed at how easily you forgave him.

Taehyung:

It didn’t take a genius to know that Taehyung was upset and mad about something but he wasn’t talking to you so you couldn’t determine what it was, he’d been like this all day. Whenever you’d ask him a question he would pass it off and ignore you or he would grumble something in reply and not explain anything.

“You have to talk to me sooner or later, we live together.” You reminded him but he kept his eyes locked on his screen as he type away at something, you were slowly starting to get more and more annoyed at him as time went on.

“Taehyung talk to me.” You pouted as you poked his cheek only for him to erupt into a rage,

“Why don’t you go and talk to Jin since he’s your best friend!” He yelled moving away from you on the sofa and going over to the kitchen, you stared at him wondering what he could have meant by that when it hit you.

“Tae, it was just a joke.” Jin had made a passing comment that morning about how close you and he were after spending the day cooking the day before but Taehyung didn’t like it.

“You’ve always found him better than me.” You rolled your eyes at how childish he was acting and that was all it took, he began yelling at you and you started yelling back, neither of you meant what you were yelling but it was just something that happened.

“Fuck off Tae! It was a passing comment, I love you not Jin.” But Taehyung brought up about the fact that Jin was your bias before you started dating and he kept talking about how much he knew you really wanted to be with Jin instead.

“Because you know I’m right, don’t you?” His hand swung backwards as he went to turn away from you and it came into contact with your cheek, the sound silenced the fight and both Tae and you stood there in shock. Your hand slowly went to your cheek and he panicked rushing over to you and checking you were okay,

“I didn’t mean to baby I’m sorry.” He forced you to look at him and you smiled softly at him, it didn’t hurt at all it was just the shock of him hitting you at all,

“It was an accident, I just swung out my arm and caught you.” He looked as though he was about to burst into tears so you shook your head at him reassuring him that you were fine and it was nothing but a little shock,

“I will never hit you again, ever.” He promised as he pulled your head against your chest rubbing the small of your back and kissing the top of your head over and over again.

“I’ll cook tonight, or we can order in. I’ll make this up to you.” You pushed him away when you felt a wet droplet roll down your back.

“Baby, it’s okay. I’m fine I promise.” He kissed you over and over again on the lips and he shook his head at you, he wasn’t going to let himself get away with it he felt terrible but you kissed him back and he relaxed a little more.

Jungkook:

Jungkook had been playing video games all morning and you were getting bored, it was supposed to be your anniversary and he’d clearly forgotten all about it which made you upset but you didn’t mind. You knew how busy he was and that this time was his break away from work and he didn’t need you weighing him down about it more so you forgot about it. Trying to push on with your day when you heard him screaming at the monitor, you looked up from the book you were reading.

“Stupid fucking game.” He grumbled before starting up another match and ignoring your looks from across the room, you were going back into the book when you heard him yelling again.

“Keep it down Kookie.” You giggled but he wasn’t in the mood, he turned to look at you and scoffed.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful and get me something to eat.” You stared at him from across the room book in your hand and your eyebrow cocked up to the side.

“Excuse me?” You questioned and he went back to ignoring you and concentrating on the game proceeding to yell about dying so much before you finally had enough and turned off the console.

“What the fuck?!” He yelled at you rushing to his feet and staring at you,

“What did you say to me?!” You questioned about before and he shook his head at how childish you were bing with him.

“I said to make me something to eat,” Then you began yelling back and forth at one another, you didn’t fight often which is why whenever you did eventually end up in a fight it was nothing but yelling and screaming before you finally both calmed down and talked about your problems instead of yelling about them.

“You’re such a child.” You yelled at him and he went to yell something back while flinging his arms in the air but the controller he was holding slipped from his hands and in your direction, hitting your wrist and making you curse loudly.

“Fuck Kook!” You yelled dropping your book and staring at the now red mark where the controller had hit you,

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” He yelled out, he’d calmed down from the fight and he rushed to your side turning your wrist over to make sure he hadn’t broken it or bruised you but it looked like it was just going to be red for a couple of hours,

“I didn’t mean to it just slipped” He told you as you held your wrist in your hand trying to ignore the throbbing pain that was coming from it.

“It’s fine,” You whispered back to him and he pulled you gently over to the sofa, both of you sitting there and talking about the problem, he was holding your hand the entire time and gently running his hands over your wrist in a soothing way to stop it from hurting so much.

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