#At least I can write and type now without excruciating pain | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shotorozu · 4 years ago

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hiiii! i was wondering if you could write some headcannons for kirishima, bakugou, and kaminari with a s/o with braces? i got mine on a couple days ago and i’m in quite a bit of pain🧍‍♀️

their s/o gets braces

character(s) : kirishima eijirou, bakugou katsuki, kaminari denki (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used (gender neutral), quirk not specific

headcanon type : fluff, crack if you squint, mainly comfort (x reader)

note(s) : ahh i feel bad for you. it literally felt like my jaw got ripped off by a wendigo when i got braces for the first time. anyways, it’ll feel so satisfying once you can eat again!

»»————-　♡　————-««

kirishima eijirou

he was told to get his teeth fixed when he was younger, but he heard how painful it was— so he never actually went through with it.

moving aside that, he immediately goes to find you when he finds out that you’re out from the dentist

and oh— you have braces now.

“does it hurt?” he asks, when he glides through the soup isle. he doesn’t know why it hurts, but he heard that it helps.

“nope.”

but it did hurt. precisely, it felt like your jaw got bashed in by power similar to midoriya’s quirk.

he’s alarmed, because one, he hates seeing you squirm in pain, and two he made the foolish mistake by giving you one french fry when you asked him to

and your reaction wasn’t very pleasant

so, what can he do? he has no knowledge on this!

but wait, youtube exists. eijirou ends up binge watching on a bunch of braces videos, and he practically comes back a natural expert at taking care of new braces

eijirou lets you at all the ice cream he wants, at the same time- he manages to make yummy, but healthy and chewable meals for you for the rest of the week

when he sleeps in your bed, he makes sure not to turn in sleep— surprisingly cautious of his movements

trust me, when my brother didn’t have his own room yet, he almost elbowed my jaw in his sleep— and i only had braces for 6 hours then. so he’s surprisingly?? cautious.

fawns over the fact that your lips looked really swollen because of the new braces, “are you comfortable, cutie?” is what he says when he checks up on you

reminds you to brush your teeth, AND floss. sometimes he’ll do it for you just because he just so happened to walk in when you were flossing LMAO ITS SO WEIRD BUT 💀 its eijirou

has his way of keeping you away from foods like popcorn and bubble gum “Y/N! if you put that down, we can eat this OTHER chewable thing together!”

anyways— he’s the perfect caretaker in my opinion. but eijirou ends up overdoing the research

“have you ever considered buying a water floss?”

... “eijirou, regular floss is fine, y’know?”

bakugou katsuki

this man- omg. [que shiny teeth and me]

his teeth are perfect. he has no history of cavities, and every single tooth grew in correctly. he brushes, and flosses regularly too.

if you don’t tell him you’re getting braces AT LEAST the day before, he’ll be really mad

he’s probably the one that accompanies you to the dentist. he’s willing to inhale that oddly satisfying and weird dentist office smell, and sit in a chair for a hour, staring at a weird soap drama

just so he could accompany you back.

listens to the dentist’s instructions, because he must. know. everything. and besides— you’re probably too bugged out to pay attention.

he knows that it doesn’t hurt around the first 20 minutes or so, but he’s still going to take some extra precautions.

first of all, no more begging for the usual food cravings, because if you do— oh boy.

he’ll stare at you like you’re crazy “what? and you think you can eat that shit? no.” he says, as he gets a spoonful of soup, blowing on it, so it’s not too hot

second of all, he’ll watch you brush your teeth. he might even scold you if you brush too fast.

watches you floss, and smirks when you finish

“don’t be so down about it,” he’ll say in his usual manner “you can have all the disgusting meals you want after the first week”

that makes you smile

“,,just no more gum, popcorn—”

oh, and he’s really strict about that. he’ll yank it out of your hand if you dare to eat anything that’s in the list of ‘the forbidden’

he’s a mean caretaker :,) but he does an excellent job at being one. on the good side, he’ll kiss those lips for yours after the first week has been completed

“don’t be so down about it. your teeth will be perfect just like mine in [insert year of braces removal]”

kaminari denki

denki probably had a few cavities here and there, but his teeth are okay.

he was sort of left in the dark about it :,) because you thought it would be a great idea to surprise him.

you told him you were going to the dentist again which was weird to him because who goes to the dentist 3 times in one month??

denki’s appalled when he sees your eyes tearing up, as he happily waltz into to your room.

“oh no! what happened?” his expression falls, “are you hurt? what can i do?”

“surprise?” you show him your teeth, now fixed with braces

and he’s just :0 what’s that on your teeth?

“you didn’t tell me!” he whines, since he was left in the dark, and while you sheepishly smile at him— he observes your teeth

you open your mouth to answer him, but he shakes his head “don’t answer! i’ll go fix something up for you, even though i’m mediocre at best with cooking— oh well, want anything?— oh wait, just nothing chewable, right?”

similar to kirishima, he doesn’t know why it’s so painful— but he can imagine the pain with the way you’re describing it.

he distracts you by making you laugh, since laughter is the best medicine— but he makes sure not to go too overboard (because he thinks stretching your jaw out would be too much)

ends up replacing your toothbrush with one that had softer bristles, as he tends to get side tracked with the monitoring thing rip

oh, but he does watch you floss your teeth. y’know— what if you accidentally bump your hand against your jaw? he’s thoughtful of that.

for once, it looks like he actually knows about taking care of your braces, even more than you (it looks temporary but hmm.. we dont know)

but after that excruciating week, he DEADASS asked you if he could touch them 💀

“pleasee? what— it doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?”

“denki, don’t even try—”

when you get your braces adjusted, he’s always the one that picks your colors (if you could pick the colors., if that makes sense.)

gets sad when you don’t choose the color he wanted because they ran out of that color. its not even your fault whkdwks

denki was really sad to hear that yellow made your teeth look yellow, and black made it look like you had cavities :,)

overall, he might’ve had some moments where he absolutely missed on the care taking part. but he did his very best! please know that.

the bakusquad is surprised to see his search history— which namely had the keywords ‘braces’ in all of them. they teased him for it

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

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icequeenbae · 4 years ago

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Stay with Me (m) | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Long-distance relationship, established relationship, grumpy Baek, smut

Warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, upset sex (is there such a thing), oral (f receiving), consent is not explicitly stated but implied

Word Count: ~2.6k

Summary: Baekhyun was upset because you had to leave again. His frustration made things escalate to an unexpected extent. He might’ve just wanted to make you late for the plane though.

Let’s celebrate my first ‘writing comeback’ anniversary together ❤❤❤ [February 17, 2020 – forever]

Author’s Note: Soooo… This was actually the first fic I wrote after many years of my writer’s coma. Wasn’t going to post it, but it’s important to save the date. A year ago during a business trip I was listening to Baekhyun’s ‘Stay Up’ in the backseat of a cab, and it suddenly got to me in a very new and profound way. As soon as I got to the hotel, the doc was created. Countless sleepless nights later, I can admit that I haven’t really stopped writing ever since.

Baekhyun isn’t just my bias or my favourite character to write, he’s so much more special to me than that. I’m not sure how long this journey is going to last or where it leads me, but so far he’s gifted me with one full year of this magic. He’ll always have a precious spot in my heart 🤍

Okay, done with the sappy times now (no). As usual – big thanks to @baekshoney for having a look, and I hope you guys enjoy this little oneshot!

This was one of those days. One of the days you hated, and Baekhyun didn’t do much to make it better for you. On the contrary, he was sulking since early morning. First, because you’d left him alone in bed and he woke up being cold. Then he just kept getting annoyed with everything. Why were you having coffee for breakfast again, when you should sleep on the plane? Why weren’t you packing snacks, when the airport food always made your stomach upset? You should’ve definitely worn one of his hoodies, since none of yours were warm and comfy enough, did he have to remind you?

Yes, this was the day you had to fly back home, leaving him behind once again. Which was exactly what brought his tsundere ways to the surface. He was just… upset.

‘Baby, it’s not the first time I’m going home, I’ll be fine,’ you grinned at his grumpy expression and poured him a cup of coffee as soon as he sat his butt down on the kitchen stool.

Baekhyun wasn’t exactly subtle in how he felt about you going away. The two of you had been doing this ‘long-distance thing’ since the very beginning of your relationship. You’d met during your first ever trip to Korea around two years ago and instantly clicked – just like that – not spending a single day without at least a quick message exchange with one another.

It was tough at times. There was no way for you to see each other more frequently, and you were often apart for months. Granted, you were keeping in touch religiously – texting every single day, having video calls every other night (whenever you could manage the schedules and time zones), posting ambiguous pictures on social media only for each other to understand. Still, you missed each other so terribly…

‘I don’t understand why you have to go anyway, you can just stay here with me,’ Baekhyun grumbled, eyeing the kitchen floor with a frown. You pursed your lips to contain the coo about to fly out of your mouth at how cute he was, pouting and complaining. Like an angry little bird. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out your hand and ruffled his already messy bedroom hair.

The way his nose scrunched up meant he wasn't in the mood to be playful. You sighed and leaned on the corner of the kitchen table.

‘You know I have work to get back to, Bae, I can’t be on vacation all year long.’

He was being rather childish about your departure, especially when you were already fully dressed and ready to go. The only thing stalling you was that Chanyeol, who insisted on being your ride to the airport today, hadn’t come to pick you up just yet, giving you some time to smooth over your boyfriend’s feathers.

Truth be told, you were only holding up the appearances for him. It was very possible that you were even more upset about having to go than he was. In fact, every time your week or two together were nearing an end, you felt nauseous at the thought that you wouldn’t be able to see his face, or hold his hand, or feel his warm breath on your skin, or kiss the tiny mole on his cheek.

In all honesty, you were... a mess. You only displayed yourself as calm and collected during your goodbyes because you knew his moodiness was merely a tactic to conceal his pain. So, you tucked your own feelings away to make it a bit more manageable for him. In reality, you broke down as soon as you arrived home and walked into your lifeless apartment. Each time, you had to find excuses and avoid talking to him via video messengers during those initial weeks, pretending to suddenly be swamped at work. You realized that seeing your eyes all red and puffy from crying every night would most definitely break his heart and worsen his longing. That you knew, because seeing him unhappy was excruciating. You wanted more than anything to deliver him from any further suffering.

It took all of your self-restraint not to reach out for his warm embrace or let the tears flow freely. He’d probably not let you go then, always telling you to just stay with him anyways. But you were both adults and had commitments, although hundreds and thousands of miles apart.

As your eyes were beginning to prick from observing his state and getting overwhelmed with your own feelings, you decided it was safer to move out ten minutes early, despite the call from Yeol not coming through yet. Anything to not let Baekhyun see you cry or cling to him desperately the way you wished to in that moment.

‘Well, you can pout all you want, I’m going to get my stuff,’ you said in an airy tone trying to elevate his mood slightly.

‘No.’

He stopped you in your tracks, grabbing your wrist. You gazed at him, confused as to what he meant. He was still looking down, eyebrows knitted together and chest heaving with almost anxious breaths.

‘Bae?’

‘No,’ he repeated, softer this time, but still not making eye contact with you. Instead, he tugged at your wrist and pulled you closer to him. You felt his grasp weaken until your wrist was free, however, your waist was not. His arms snaked around it, and he pulled you into himself, basically nuzzling his face into your chest.

‘Baekhyun?’ You squeaked, doing your best to fight off the goosebumps that littered your skin immediately after the contact. Your body never once asked for permission to react to him, and this time was no exception. His right hand traveled down your spine to the curve of your ass as his nose nudged one of your breasts. You shivered, grabbing at his shoulders, and he suddenly growled, knowing, sensing that your nipples had already perked up underneath the fabric of your bra.

Although he was trying to put you into one of his many oversized hoodies all the time, it was summer, so you were wearing a sundress (like any sane person would). Lucky for Baekhyun, this type of clothing made it even easier for him.

He rose from his seat and hoisted you up so abruptly that you only managed to yelp and grab at his neck for balance. You were then placed on the empty side of the dining table away from the leftover breakfast. Looking down at where your boyfriend’s hands were, you watched him frantically pull your dress up, before coming to your senses and trying to stop him.

‘Bae… What are you doing? Yeol is gonna be here any minute, we can’t just f…ugh!’ You cried out in surprise as he yanked your hips forcefully up to his face, completely ignoring your words. There’s no way he was going to...

‘Baekhyunie, please stop, you know I’m going to be late, what is…’ He didn’t even let you finish your rant, leaving a trail of insistent wet kisses upon the sensitive skin along the panty line while leading up to your protruding hip bone. Breath caught up in your throat, you couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out even if you wanted to. Did you really want to? With his head right there between your thighs, his dark burning eyes looking at you – completely immobilized by him – in the most intense and intimate way possible. His lips were glistening after he ran his tongue over them habitually, and when he leaned in and licked at your still clothed center, you belatedly realized that you weren’t even breathing. The realization only came with the wheezing gasp you’d let out, when your legs wrapped around his head as if on cue. Like fuel to the fire, your responsiveness only spurred him on. You didn’t even have time to realize that your boyfriend had already moved your panties out of the way when his impatient lips were on you again.

‘B- Baekhyun…’ You muttered, reaching your hand down to give pushing his head away a feeble try. ‘We can’t do this now, please stop... the airport…’

His ears seemed deaf to your reluctant pleas as he only employed more of his tongue to make you lose the last bits of your sober mind completely, melting and thrashing underneath his touch. He eased one of your thighs off of his shoulder, pushing it up and spreading you out before diving back in, paying no attention to your increasingly disheveled state.

At this point you could only sob, speech incoherent, all attempts to push him away or close your legs futile. And that alone made him grow feverish with the need to be inside you, to feel you once again before he had to let you go.

He was really good with his mouth, as usual, so by the time one of his hands left your thigh to tease you a little further with his long deft fingers you were so ready to take more that you barely registered the burn of two digits sliding inside. You were still a little sore from the night before, which you’d spent making love for hours on end, knowing that you won’t be touching each other anytime soon. But that was meaningless now.

His tongue expertly swirled around your clit, while his wrist found a familiar angle that always made you get vocal. Your back arched instantly as you cried out his name, barely grasping that you were still tugging at his soft locks and possibly causing discomfort. It was clear that your release was mere seconds away with your legs shaking and inner muscles clenching, and that was exactly where Baekhyun wanted you. Aching for his touch, needing him as much as he needed you. Just the two of you, caught up in the act of lustful desperation.

He’d worked his tongue diligently, almost pushing you over the edge by sucking on your most sensitive spot for just a second, and... then you suddenly felt him pull away.

‘No, no- what?’ You could barely form sentences, let alone complain, but your frenzied tone made his already rock-hard flesh twitch. His pants were down in seconds, and there wasn’t even a thought of pausing to get a condom on or cool off a little bit. You were both on the verge of getting overwhelmed by this passionate longing when... your phone suddenly lit up, indicating an incoming call. Before you could snap out of the moment you were having, Baekhyun had you flat on your back, all slick and ready for him to push inside. And that he did — in one quick and rough movement, filling you up and giving you no time to even make a sound before his hips tested you out with a couple of low amplitude thrusts. The table moved slightly, soft clanking of tableware falling on deaf ears. Meanwhile, Baekhyun grabbed onto your hips, lifting your ass in the air for more control over the penetration.

‘Baek, I swear… You have like 2 minutes before Chan-’ A vicious thrust reached further than before, definitely getting your friend’s name out of your mind for good. And anything else for that matter.

Baekhyun snapped his hips as if he wanted to get as deep as humanly possible, as if he wanted to literally ruin you, and you could only scratch at his forearm while losing yourself in the feeling of his hips colliding with yours and the delectable sounds the action produced.

‘Baby,’ Baekhyun suddenly breathed out hoarsely, eyebrows knitted together as if in pain, ‘I can’t hold it off-’

Hearing his voice so strenuous and somehow vulnerable, you threw your head back and closed your eyes, spreading your legs further apart to allow him to better angle his powerful thrusts.

Your limbs were starting to grow numb and the veins on your neck popped when you moaned, and that’s when Baekhyun let out a strained ‘ah’, holding you in place by the hips to give you his erratic final thrusts.

In that moment you felt like something snapped inside you. Your core was tight around your lover’s cock, your body shaking in pre-orgasmic bliss, and you’d never experienced it this way. You felt so full and content in this moment when he was still moving his hips and groaning stiffly above you, riding out his high. There was nothing else he needed to do to take you along. The sensation of his warmth inside you made you pulsate, wailing so loudly that Baekhyun had to cover your mouth with his palm. He kept going for a bit to prolong your orgasm and let you slowly come back to your senses.

Your eyes stared vacantly at the kitchen ceiling and your throat was dry, although Baekhyun’s hand was still clasped over your mouth. When both of you managed to catch your breath, you just gazed at each other for a few long moments. You were so spent that you couldn’t even read the semi-blank expression on his face. He slowly slipped his palm off of your face, still hovering over your body.

‘Baekhyunie…’ You murmured, touching his cheek gently. He was usually lowkey annoyed whenever you went on to kiss the little mole on his face instead of his lips. This time, however, he only lowered his head further to let you do your thing. You pressed your lips to the tiny dot on his skin, leaning back onto the table to find his eyes with your own.

‘I love you,’ he suddenly whispered in a broken voice, then cleared his throat and started over. ‘I really want you to stay with me.’

It was… bittersweet.

You winced, feeling him pull out, and accepted his help sitting up. Holding your boyfriend close by the shirt, you nudged his nose with yours and looked up to his sad dejected eyes.

‘I know, Bae,’ your voice sounded as uplifting as you could manage. ‘I will find a way to come see you on tour in the next couple of months, I promise.’

Baekhyun was about to say something else if not for the sudden ring of his phone that made both of you snap out of your tiny little world.

‘Dang, I bet it’s Yeol. Pick up!’ You pushed your boyfriend towards the phone and eased down from the table, grabbing the tissues to clean up quickly.

‘Yes,’ Baekhyun responded.

‘Are you two fucking?!’ Your nose scrunched up at Chanyeol’s vulgar shout.

‘Yes?’ At this you paused and smacked Baekhyun’s pec for the shameless (yet truthful) response. ‘Whoa- feisty. Chanyeol-ah, better hang up before you hear her- Ow!’ He raised an arm to defend himself from your playful hits.

‘You realize that if you do not come down in ten you’re most likely missing the flight?’ You heard Chanyeol reply after a frustrated sigh.

‘Not a problem for m-’ Baekhyun was interrupted by your yell.

‘We’re gonna be down in ten, please check the fastest routes to the airport, Yeolie!’

You ran out of the kitchen barely catching Baekhyun’s grumbling as he repeated after you.

‘Yeolie. Why the hell does she even call you that. It’s not like you- What? Shut up, you bastard!’

You smiled to yourself. At least his friends knew how and when to mess with him. If you weren’t there… They got him. He'd be okay. And with that you were happy for now.

A/N:This piece was my reintroduction to writing, and I’d love to hear any type of comments you have^^ Thank you guys for all the interaction and amazing responses so far, I cherish each and every one of them. You're the best <3

#baekhyun smut #exowritersnet #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun x reader #icequeenbae fics #baekhyun scenario #exo baekhyun #exo smut #baekhyun #baekhyun x you #exo fanfiction #icequeenbae #stay with me #writing anniversary

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klvbxlove · 3 years ago

Text

worried (yu x gn! reader)

a/n: God, i’ve got so many ideas for persona 4 fanfics so y’all might see some coming soon LMAO. but no worries, i’ll try my best to write more iida drabbles as well (of course, i could never forget my number one anime husbando. but i’ll be honest, kanji might take his place very soon? maybe? huehuehue). anyways, i saw some persona 4 requests in my inbox (which i did not expect, haha), but i’ll try my best to get to them whenever possible! so until then, enjoy this yu drabble :)

reader type: gender neutral

reader specification(s): none

genre(s): angst, hurt/comfort

trigger warning(s): mentions of car accidents, mentions of injuries

summary: after being a coma from a car accident, you finally woke up, much to the huge relief of your family and friends, especially yu.

word count: 2.6k words

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

key:

(e/c) = eye color (l/n) = last name (y/n) = your name

♡ ♡ ♡ (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) ♡ ♡ ♡

Today should have been another day of you and the Investigation Team hanging out with Yu. He had come back to Inaba a few days ago for another (surprisingly long) break, and you were excited to see him again.

But unfortunately, no. That day did not happen.

Instead, you found yourself in a hospital room. You had woken up almost a week ago, having no idea what had happened. All you remembered is that as soon as you got the strength to sit up from your hospital bed, you felt nothing but excruciating pain. And when you looked down at your body, your (E/C) eyes widened at the extent of your injuries. You were in terrible condition.

Then a few minutes later, the nurses and doctors rushed into your room in complete shock when they realized you woke up. At first, you were confused. But then they explained everything. From what you could recall, you were hanging out with your friends when you saw Yu’s younger cousin, Nanako, standing in the road. Realizing there was a car heading towards her, your instincts caught up with you, and you quickly pushed the younger girl out of the way, which ultimately resulted in you getting hit.

Unfortunately, the impact was so severe that you had slipped into a coma. Even with the surgery (which luckily was a success), you were still fighting for your life. The staff had no idea if you would even wake up.

Your eyes widened in shock. However, the one thing that made your shock worse was when one of the doctors said that there was a chance you would have died due to the severity of your injuries. “Consider yourself lucky,” one of the doctors said, “Because if not, well, there would not be much we could have done to save you,”

You were in disbelief. You could have died?!

WHAT THE HELL?!

You swear, you almost thought your jaw dropped. You did not even know how long you laid there in bed, thinking of the word ‘died.’

D-I-E-D.

There was nothing but silence (you could almost hear a pin drop) for a few minutes after taking in the news.

Then you heard that your family and friends knew of the accident and you would be able to have visitors in a few days. But all you could do was think about how injured you were. It was bad enough that you were in this condition. However, you could not wrap your brain around the fact that you might have been dead.

And then your family would have to set up a funeral for you, bury your body underground, and you would be there until the end of time.

Maybe you would even have a spirit in whatever place you ended up after death.

Oh God, you could not even think to imagine how your family and friends would react. Especially the Investigation Team--

Wait a minute. The Investigation Team!

Now the worry was starting to kick in. You just realized that you have not heard from your friends since you woke up. Not at least one thing from one of the members (and nothing from Nanako either!). You had no idea if anyone had told them what happened to you when you arrived or the fact that you were alive. Hell, you would not be surprised if they thought you were still in a coma and would be for who knows how long.

You sighed, the apprehension still in you. Today was certainly not your day. You just wanted to be able to hang out with Yu again before he had to go back to Tokyo (even though it was a long way from now). But you had no idea when you would be able to leave the hospital! Not for a while, that was for sure. You might as well try to dwell in pure boredom.

Oh yeah, and also try to ignore the pain. You might have felt slightly better for the past few days, but the agony was still shooting in almost every part of your body. You could only hope that all of this will be over soon. And then later, when you were finally feeling better, you would be back home with your family.

“(L/N)?”

You were in the middle of messing with your bedsheets when you heard your name. Looking up, you saw one of the nurses giving you a small smile as she stood next to your bed. You did not even remember hearing her walk towards you. I guess you got a little too caught up with your bedsheets. “How are you feeling now, sweetheart? Any more pain or anything?”

You looked off to steal a glance at one of the hospital walls. The pain was still there, but it was not bothering you compared to the day you woke up. You could say that you were fine (mostly), but you could not find the strength to tell the nurse for some reason. No, you did not care that you looked like you were staring off into the distance pondering about life.

“(L/N)? Are you alright?”

The voice brought you back to reality, and you saw the nurse looking at you with a somewhat concerned look on her face.

“Oh, sorry. I’m fine, for now,” you said, “No pain or anything,”

“Alright,” the nurse smiled in relief. “I know the staff and I keep telling you this so many times, but if you begin to feel pain or need any assistance, you let someone know, okay?”

“I know, thank you,” you nodded.

“Of course,” the nurse looked over at the door, “Now, you got a visitor who wants to see you. Well, he and a couple of his other friends wanted to see you for a while. We had to tell them no since you were still in a coma at the time, but they were determined to go to your room,” she chuckled sheepishly.

“Who is it?” you asked. The last time you knew, your family members had visited first.

“Yu Narukami, one of your classmates,” the nurse answered. “Would you like me to let him in?”

You blinked before nodding. “Yeah, sure,”

It was only a few seconds of silence you faced in your hospital room. During that timespan, you began to feel nervous about your friend being in the same room as you without the Investigation Team (wherever they were). Your heart was almost beating at the thought of it, and you could feel a blush on your cheeks; if you were capable of blushing, that is.

But before you knew it, you instantly recognized the familiar gray-haired male as he walked inside.

Upon his eyes glancing upon you, Yu’s eyes widened. “(Y-Y/N),” he said, “You’re awake.”

You nodded, giving him a weak smile and waving with your free hand. “Yep, I am.”

Yu walked over to sit at the chair next to your bed. “How have you been lately?”

“Slightly better compared to when I woke up, but only slightly,” you replied honestly. “Still feeling some pain. Hopefully, when I get out of the hospital, I’ll feel much better.”

“That’s good to hear,” Yu gave you a small smile.

Then you paused. “How about the others? Are they okay?--” And of course, there was another person you were worried about, “--What about Nanako? Is she hurt?”

“No need to worry, everyone is alright, just a bit shook up after the incident, though,” Yu said, letting out a light chuckle. “Nanako only had some bruises on her legs when you pushed her out of the way, but that was only it. Everyone would have come to visit you alongside me today, but they got busy. And Nanako came down with some sickness. Not the flu or anything major, but we decided to let her rest until she recovers. They promised they would find the time to visit you when they can.”

You sighed in relief. “At least no one else was hurt. As much as I hate being in the hospital in pain, it’s better than seeing Nanako here for the same reason. I think that would hurt more than my injuries, and they hurt like hell, you know?”

“But being treated for severe injuries in the hospital is still frightening, (Y/N),” Yu pointed out, “Everyone watched as you got hit by the car. It was awful, you know? You were bleeding so much from your head, too.” The gray-haired male felt like he was about to wince in pain, seeing the injuries you had.

“Yeah, I honestly dunno much of what happened after getting hit, other than feeling immense pain,” you admitted, scratching your cheek, “I could only hear muffled voices, but that was it. And then I just closed my eyes. Must have slipped into that coma or something afterward.”

“Maybe you did.”

Moments of silence passed, and Yu felt a knot in his stomach. It had been like that for almost a week. Every time he would think of you in your hospital room in a coma, he would have to go somewhere else alone to relieve his thoughts. But even then, it still was not enough to help him. How could he even talk about his feelings to someone? Yu was aware he had the other members on the Investigation Team to talk to, but he could see them struggling.

There was only one person he could talk to about it.

“(Y/N), I-- Listen,” Yu spoke up in seriousness. Once you looked up at him after staring at your cast, he continued, “I have no idea how else I’m going to begin talking about this. But do you realize how happy I-- no, we are that you’re alive?”

Huh?

Okay, that took me off guard.

You had to admit you were puzzled. How were you supposed to answer that? It was not as if you could put yourself in the shoes of one of your friends. You did not even know what it was like to wait for someone to come out of their coma. So really, you could only shrug at his question.

“I remembered when the nurses told us you slipped into a coma and you would need surgery," Yu continued, "God, we were just in shock. No one said anything; you could hear a pin drop in the waiting room. But as soon as they left us alone, we just started crying, you know. Silently, though. But Teddie was the only one wailing.

“And Nanako?” Yu paused a bit before picking back up, “Well, at first, she looked like she was trying to hold back her tears. That is until we went back to my house. She just started sobbing, saying how it was her fault that you were hurt. She blamed herself for being on the road since she knew it was dangerous. Of course, we kept telling her that it wasn’t her fault, but it was no help. Not even Uncle was able to calm Nanako down, and so she just cried until she fell asleep.”

If your heart could physically break, it might as well be in a million pieces by now. Your injuries were suddenly hurting way less than seeing Nanako sobbing.

Meanwhile, Yu looked down at his lap as he felt himself about to shake. “It hurts so much just seeing her upset. And Nanako still blames herself to this day. By that point, it felt like there was not anything else the rest of us could do other than to dwell in sadness. We even had to wait to visit you at the time since the nurses wouldn’t allow any visitors. I just hated not knowing if you were going to live. I hated thinking that there was a chance you would die.”

Something caught your eyes.

Teardrops.

They were coming out of his eyes and falling onto his lap.

You could even hear small cries coming from him.

Oh God, no.

Why did this hurt a lot?

“DAMN IT!”

You felt yourself jump hearing Yu yell out like that. But what startled you most (it made a squeal come out of you) was when the gray-haired male suddenly engulfed you into a warm hug. The grip was not tight enough to where you could not breathe, but you could tell he was holding onto you as if you were going to slip out of his reach. Yu rested his head against your shoulder, and you were beginning to feel tears staining your hospital gown. It did not even matter that there were butterflies in your stomach.

“D-Damn it, (Y/N),” you heard his voice almost cracking, “You gave us a scare there! I know it would be rude to blame you for getting into that accident since you weren’t asking to get hit by a car. And, of course, I am incredibly thankful that you saved Nanako from getting hurt. But still! I could go over and over again about how relieved we were when we heard you had woken up. We thought it would never happen and that you would never make it.”

“Yu...”

You felt tears in the corners of your eyes. Damn, you were getting emotional. If there was one thing you hated, it was seeing someone close to you (especially if it was someone you loved) so upset that they cried. And that was what Yu was doing. So you wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back. His grip on you tightened, but you did not care. All you wanted was for him to let out his tears.

Once his cries had turned into sniffles, he lifted his head to make eye contact with you. You could feel your tears pouring out just seeing his tears. You cupped his cheeks with your hands.

“I’m sorry about that, (Y/N),” Yu mumbled.

“No need for an apology,” you assured him. “I know how you-- no, I know I’ll never fully understand what it was like for you guys after the car accident. I mean, how could I? But still, I had no intention of scaring you guys.”

More silence passed. God, you had no idea what to say at that point. You had no idea how your other friends had been coping through this time, but it was evident there were tears shed. Besides Nanako, you did not even want to imagine their disheartened faces. You knew that you had to comfort Yu in some way. But how?

You sighed.

Saying this might as well work.

“Look...Yu, listen to me,” you found your voice as you looked into his eyes. “I know you and the others are still upset. I get it. But please don’t go dwelling on the past anymore, okay? Yes, it was a scary situation that should NOT have happened-- it sucked that it even occurred right when you were visiting us --but in the end, I’m alright. Of course, it will take a while for me to recover, but I will do my best to get through this as quickly as possible for you and everyone else.

“So please,” your thumbs began to gently wipe at Yu’s on pouring tears, “don’t cry anymore. I promise you I’ll be alright.”

That was when a sudden bolt of bravery came from inside you. So you leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.

You spoke every word as if you meant it (because you did!). You no longer wanted to be a burden to everyone around you. You worried your family and friends enough in the hospital, so the least you could do was make it through your recovery. All you could hope was for Yu to be reassured by everything you said.

And thankfully, it worked as he gave you a nod and a tearful smile (you could almost see a light blush covering his cheeks from the kiss). Yu hugged you again, placing his forehead against your shoulder. “Thank you, (Y/N),” he mumbled, “Thank you so much,”

“You’re welcome,” you whispered.

#persona 4 #persona #persona 4 x reader #persona 4 imagines #persona imagines #yu narukami #fanfiction #persona 4 golden #p4g #yu narukami x reader #oneshot #gn reader #x reader #kristin's writings

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lesdemonium · 4 years ago

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Error Pining

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 2750 Summary: When his djinn wish goes wrong, Jaskier finds himself unable to speak without excruciating pain. Geralt tries to fill the space himself. AN: a gift exchange fic written for @smuggsy for @thewitchersecretsanta. thanks so much for giving me an excuse to write physical whump for jaskier!

read on ao3 Before their argument, Geralt had been hazy, unfocused, and in dire need of sleep. He was still in dire need of rest, but now every sense was on high alert. The smell of blood and pain was so sharp, so strong, it left a metallic taste in his mouth and he just barely resisted the urge to try to clear his tongue of it. His eyes went wide, wild, as he tried to find the source of the blood. In a distant sort of way, he registered that he had been cut in their scuffle, but it wasn’t his blood he smelled. It was Jaskier’s.

Jaskier was doubled over, clutching at his neck, the djinn bottle long forgotten on the ground. His eyes met Geralt’s and he opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out before he was blinking away tears and dry heaving onto the ground. The hand around his throat was so tight Geralt wondered at how he could breathe, had a wild thought that maybe it was Jaskier’s own hand that was causing his scent to spike in pain and fear.

“Jaskier, what’s happened?” Geralt asked, bending over and hauling Jaskier back up by the collar of his doublet. Jaskier went, and when he tried to speak again, only a weak whimper came out before his face contorted in pain. His hands scrabbled at his throat and his eyes were so wide Geralt felt like all he could see was white, white, white.

“We’ll fix this, whatever it is,” Geralt promised him. Jaskier nodded weakly back.

They made it to the elf, Chireadan, who was less help than Geralt was hoping for. He asked Jaskier questions, and every time Jaskier attempted to answer, the same bitter taste of blood and pain and fear settled heavily within Geralt. The third time it happened, Geralt nearly punched Chireadan. Couldn’t he see this was hurting Jaskier?

“He can’t talk,” Chireadan finally settled on, and the look Geralt gave him must have been murderous, because he took a step back when their eyes met. “I can’t tell you more than that. Its origin is magical, and I have nothing that can reverse it. Something is ripping apart his throat whenever he talks.”

Jaskier let out a muffled hum, a desperate sound, that soon choked out and was replaced with the heavy scent of blood.

“Sounds like not only when he talks,” Geralt said, and Chireadan’s grimace seemed to agree.

They were sent to a witch, Yennefer, but she wasn’t much help, either. She tried through the night, with Jaskier in a deep sleep, but when he awoke, nothing had changed.

“I can’t do anything until you open your mouth to speak, bard,” Yennefer told them, and to her credit, she did look at least a bit remorseful. Or perhaps simply annoyed her magic couldn’t solve it. “Since I highly doubt you want to be singing as I fix you, there’s not much I can do for you.”

“Then how do we fix this?” Geralt asked, his voice tight.

Yennefer smiled and patted Jaskier’s hand condescendingly. “Have you considered a vocational change?”

They left, Jaskier silent and mourning beside Geralt. Yennefer’s advice was to track down another djinn, as Jaskier was unable to make the wish himself. Geralt thought this was a fool’s errand, and that Vesemir would be more help.

“I’m sorry, Jaskier,” Geralt said as they laid down to sleep that night.

Jaskier’s response was to turn over and go to sleep.

Traveling with a silent Jaskier was difficult for both of them. Every time Geralt looked at Jaskier, he seemed dimmer. At first, he still played his lute, but as they continued to travel and Jaskier’s throat continued to rip itself apart whenever he made even the softest hum, even that seemed to lose appeal to the bard. In taverns, Jaskier stared down at his mug, surviving the evening until he could turn in.

Geralt found he missed the sound. The silence beside him was uncomfortable, and made Geralt feel hollow. This felt as if it was his fault, as if he was the one hurting Jaskier whenever he made a sound. If he hadn’t been looking for the Djinn in the first place, Jaskier’s wish wouldn’t have backfired, and now Geralt wouldn’t have become acquainted with Jaskier’s forlorn face.

It took three days for Geralt to start talking, instead.

“Did I ever tell you about the griffin I fought outside Carrera?” Geralt said, offhand, as they traveled one day.

He chanced a glance at Jaskier, only to find the bard staring back at him, a curious expression on Jaskier’s face. Jaskier’s lips were pressed tightly together, as if he was trying to remind himself not to speak up, and he squinted at Geralt. He looked almost suspicious. Geralt didn’t blame him. It wasn’t often that Geralt offered up his stories without a request, but Jaskier deserved something, and Geralt couldn't take the silence anymore.

So he told the tale, sparing no detail. At some point, Jaskier took out a notebook, and furiously scribbled the tale down. Often, Geralt had to stop, think about what sort of questions Jaskier would normally ask him, and try to answer them on his own. By the end of his tale, Jaskier was smiling. Despite his discomfort, Geralt smiled back. The remainder of the day was easier to bear.

As they traveled, Geralt told Jaskier of his contracts, as many as he could think of that Jaskier hadn’t already been there for. When he couldn’t think of a new story, he explained to Jaskier the difference between the vampire types, or the exact effects Swallow had on him. He felt silly, like he was play-acting as a professor, but it made the time go by faster. It also made Jaskier lighter, brighter, and eased something inside Geralt.

At night, when they were safely at camp, Jaskier began to play his lute again. Initially, they were the same songs Geralt had heard before. Jaskier’s songs, famous ballads written by other bards, lively drinking songs. As their travel wore on, though, Geralt began to hear songs he had never heard before. Soft, mournful things. Jaskier never met Geralt’s eye when he played these songs, but he did sit close to Geralt, so close that sometimes their arms would brush as Jaskier shifted up and down his lute. Geralt liked these songs best. He hoped, one day, he would get to hear Jaskier sing them.

These nights made Geralt brave.

“I ran into Eskel here, once,” he said. Jaskier didn’t stop playing, but he did look up, his eyes wide, his face open. “I don’t cross paths with the other witchers as much as I would like. You would like Eskel. He plays nice far better than I could. Doesn’t need a bard around to keep him in line around nobles.”

Jaskier bumped Geralt’s shoulder and they shared a grin. Geralt turned his gaze back to the fire and took a deep breath, but a moment later Jaskier nudged him again, this time with his knee.

“Yes, okay,” Geralt said, nodding. “I’ll go on. We were in the trials together. He’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to family.” Until now, his mind helpfully supplied. Geralt cleared his throat, as if to smother the thought. “You really would like him. He’s… thoughtful. Polite. Keeps his temper better. A better witcher, too. He’d make a better subject for your songs.”

Jaskier stopped playing abruptly. He placed his lute gingerly back in its case, then leaned into Geralt’s side. His arm snaked around Geralt’s, intertwining them before he fit their fingers together. Like they belonged there. Like their hands had always been meant to hold each other.

When Geralt looked up, his mouth felt dry. Jaskier’s eyes were so big, so beautiful, and he felt like he could see everything Jaskier couldn’t say in them. Geralt swallowed, heavily, and tried to speak for them himself.

“I’m.” He paused, wet his lips, tried again. “I’m glad you’re here. You make it easier. I feel less… alone.”

Geralt looked away, now. Back at the fire. Jaskier didn’t nudge him back this time, and didn't try to get his attention. Instead, he hesitated only a second--Geralt could feel the way he started, then stopped, then started again--and rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder. They stayed like that until Jaskier’s yawns could no longer be ignored, and they had to turn in for the night.

Geralt missed Jaskier’s voice most in the morning.

It was no secret that Jaskier was terrible when he first woke up. Grouchy, whiny, wheedling every which way. He hated mornings and he hated getting up early and would always be dead to the world for the first hour or so that he was awake.

Despite this, he always wished Geralt a good morning, even if it was gruff and his smile was more of a grimace. As he started to wake up, he’d often tell Geralt about his more ridiculous dreams. Often, Geralt was sure he had fabricated them entirely, just to make Geralt roll his eyes.

Now, Jaskier always woke up in pain. He’d groan first thing in the morning, or whine, or make some other sort of noise, and immediately his entire body would seize up in pain. Geralt had gotten softer in his approach to waking Jaskier up, trying to ease him into consciousness, to avoid the pain. It worked sometimes, but Jaskier was still too hazy upon first waking to remember why he couldn’t make noise. Then his eyes would fill with unshed tears as he desperately held out his hand for the waterskin. It didn’t seem to help, but at least it was an action Jaskier could take.

They survived. Hearing Jaskier’s silence never got easier, still left Geralt feeling hollow, but it became easier to fill the silences himself. Jaskier got better at expressing himself through the way he touched Geralt. Geralt had a feeling that had never been a skill Jaskier lacked, per se, but that he had only recently been allowed to touch Geralt. Now, he was taking his fill.

Geralt wondered how much time he had lost without Jaskier’s easy affection.

To get Geralt’s attention, Jaskier would grab his knee as Geralt road Roach, or press a hand between Geralt’s shoulder blades. He fingered Geralt’s sleeve nervously when they were in taverns and he had nothing to do with his hands. He would take Geralt’s hand as they walked through a crowd so they didn’t lose each other.

Geralt’s favorite touches, though, were still in front of their campfire. The trees around them, the stars in the night sky, the light of the fire and the way it crackled, all of it was beautiful, but it was nothing compared to the way Jaskier leaned against Geralt. Jaskier pressed himself into Geralt’s side, often allowing Geralt to wrap his arm around Jaskier’s shoulder or waist. Jaskier would play his lute, would play his soft, lovely songs, that had grown more hopeful as time went on. Geralt would tell Jaskier stories about growing up, about trouble he, Lambert, Eskel, the other wolves, had gotten into. He told Jaskier about the trials and let Jaskier comb his fingers through Geralt’s hair to comfort him, though Geralt insisted he didn’t need comforting. He told Jaskier about Renfri, about Blaviken, about his mother. Geralt told Jaskier everything.

Everything except about the way his heart hammered in his chest as Jaskier looked at him. Everything except how he sometimes dreamed of Jaskier’s voice, and woke up with a longing he couldn’t put to words. Everything except how he wanted, more than anything, to kiss Jaskier, but couldn’t be sure what Jaskier wanted.

“Can I… be honest with you?” Geralt asked one night.

Jaskier turned to him just enough to roll his eyes at Geralt. As if Jaskier could stop him, the look seemed to say. Jaskier turned back to his lute, but his playing got softer, as if he was trying to give Geralt the space to speak.

“Right,” Geralt said. He paused, took a deep breath, rubbed the hem of Jaskier’s shirt between his fingers. “I don’t. I don’t know if Vesemir can help.”

Jaskier stopped playing and stiffened somewhat. But he didn’t turn around, didn’t put his lute down. Only stopped and waited.

Geralt swallowed thickly. “I hope he can. I think he’s our best bet. But, short of finding another djinn for me to make a wish… I don’t know how fixable this is. Unless we went back to Yennefer and had her heal you while you sing--” Jaskier let out a shiver and the stench of fear overwhelmed Geralt. “I know. It’s not good. But I don’t know how else to fix you if Vesemir has no ideas.”

Jaskier took a deep breath. He remained stiff against Geralt, but now he started playing again. His song was sad, mournful again, and Geralt’s heart ached with it. He wished, more than anything, that he could fix this.

“I’m not giving up,” Geralt whispered, some time later. “We’ll find something else to try. We’ll fix this eventually.”

The sound Jaskier made wasn’t quite a scoff. It was more a sharp exhalation, dismissive and--maybe Geralt was reaching here--a bit wounded. Geralt lifted his hand, hesitated a moment, then ran his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier leaned back into the motion, until his head fell back on Geralt’s shoulder.

“I mean it, Jask,” he said. His mouth felt dry again. “I miss your voice. I miss the lyrics that would go with your songs, even the ridiculous ones. I miss your jokes, your incessant complaining, the way you flirt with everyone and sometimes wink at me as you do it.”

Jaskier pulled away, and Geralt froze. Apparently, he had overstepped somewhere. He forced himself to look at Jaskier, but instead of discomfort or disgust, he found shock. Awe. Jaskier put his lute away, his fingers lingering on the clasps of his case, then he returned to Geralt’s side. After another moment of hesitation, Jaskier shifted, climbing over Geralt’s lap. Jaskier cradled Geralt’s face with feather-light touches as he leaned in, pressed their foreheads together.

“Jaskier, I--” Geralt started.

Geralt trailed off, then wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist. He didn’t know how to accept this from Jaskier verbally, he didn’t know what to say, but he could hold him. Jaskier let out a relieved breath, and Geralt felt the gust of air against his lips. Geralt touched his fingers to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. Jaskier pressed a hand to Geralt’s heart.

“You’re so much better at words than I am. I wish--” He trailed off again, thumbed along Jaskier’s cheekbone, held the back of his head. “You can’t tell me what you want.”

Jaskier’s breath sounded almost like a laugh, just before he leaned in to touch their lips together. The kiss was short, simply a way to test the waters. Jaskier pulled away, only for Geralt to drag him back in for more. Jaskier sighed into Geralt’s mouth and Geralt swallowed the sound, wished desperately he could hear more, wanted to see what all he could pull from Jaskier’s throat.

It was this thought that had Geralt pulling away. Jaskier’s eyes looked hazy, his smile dopey and big, as he stroked the side of Geralt’s face and his hair. He looked the happiest Geralt had seen him in months, since before the djinn had taken away his voice. Geralt kissed him again. And again. And again. Jaskier accepted every time.

“I wish you could talk. I want to hear your voice,” Geralt whispered into Jaskier’s mouth.

Jaskier whined a little, then reared back, just as Geralt flinched away, his arm suddenly burning. Jaskier’s hands flew to his throat and Geralt ripped back his sleeve to see a second mark, just beside the long-forgotten injury he had gotten when they squabbled over the amphora. Geralt’s eyebrows furrowed as he considered the mark, wondered after what in the world caused it, only for his focus to be dragged away by Jaskier.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, and his face broke out into the most brilliant grin. “What--I can talk again. It doesn’t hurt at all!”

Jaskier was still laughing as he dragged Geralt in for another kiss, which Geralt readily accepted. This time, he didn’t hold back any of his sounds. Each one was more beautiful than the last.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier fanfic #geraskier fanfiction #my writing #not me taking lyrics from my favorite christmas song #despite this not at all being a christmas fic #no sir #anyway i gotta tell you sitting on a fic for a month was WILD #hope you enjoy it!!!

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life-rewritten · 4 years ago

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THE GIANTS OF THAI BL 2020 AKA SHOWS STEALING MY HEART IN NOVEMBER

UPDATE AND UPCOMING ANALYSIS NOVEMBER 2020

It's the moment I've been waiting for since the excruciating silence of Thai BLS during the lockdown. It's November, the month of thanksgivings, the month of pre-Christmas jitters, nanowrimo and the month that has finally made me realise we are so close to ending this godforsaken year. Still, most of all, November means that we are getting buttloads of shows that are about to take my breath away. This year has been such an exciting year for BLS because of the increasingly amount of companies and directors willing to produce and release different types of BLS. In this list, we have awaited sequels, delicious plotlines and shocking comebacks. But most of all we have lots and lots of romance and men. Which of these have you been waiting for? Let me know. Let's squeal about it. November is going to be so great!

Ratings: From 1 to 5 (1 being least excited to watch, 5 being most,) how excited am I to delve into these shows?

Shows already airing

1.I TOLD SUNSET ABOUT YOU/ INTERPRET, MY LOVE, WITH YOUR HEART

Genre/Themes: Romance, Melodrama, Coming of Age, Angst, Drama, Childhood friendship

Country: Thailand

Verdict: So finally I rise from the memories of poorly produced bls, and pains of bad acting, and toxic writings, and traumas of stiff actors and homophobic agendas to finally say that without a doubt. Nadao has produced another masterpiece after my other favourite (Non) BL; Greater Man academy. Nadao stuns me, and for a very long time, I couldn't understand that this was how everyone was feeling, one because I wasn't fully educated or in the know about the company, I only saw tv shows in Thailand that were produced by GMMTV and to be honest I didn't think there was anything else above that standard in shows apart from Lakorns and Movies. (I know Sacrebleu) Getting to know and watch Nadao shows has been an experience, and for BL, I am hooked and ready for what else they have to offer. The only qualms that prevent me from gushing about the show are how international fans are treated. It took me a very long time to forgive ITSAY for its subbing platform (and price range), and that's why I refused to watch it with positive feelings. After episode 2 though, I'd be a fool to hold on to resentment when there is no doubt that this BL (despite not knowing if it's a sad ending. I'd hate if it is but it wouldn't change anything) is the best BL of this year. With ridiculous, incredible production, outstanding breathtaking cinematography, beautiful and talented actors and writing so good it blows me away. Episode 2 left my heart in pieces, but in a good way, I haven't recovered from the angst.

Ratings: 4.5/5 Would have been a 5/5 if the pricing made sense but also I'm terrified about a sad ending which I won't be too happy about.

2. FRIEND FOREVER/ OUR LOVE IS SICK

Genre/Themes: Romance, Music, Coming of Age, Angst, Drama, Childhood friendship, Rich vs poor, Bullying

Country: Thailand

Verdict: It's a pity this show is not available for international fans. Because I think people would actually love this show the way I do. It's so precious, reminds me so much of my first ever BL Lovesick (made by the same production team so makes sense) but better. What can I say about this show, really adorable cast, actually so good on the screen, great chemistry, and good storylines that keep me hooked. I am so in love with surprisingly one of my favourite couples this year Tin and Sea. I have such a great time watching this show, and I enjoy also analysing and just piecing together some of the mysteries in the show. It's been so good so far, and I can't wait for more. The first episodes are a little slow-paced, but it gets better as you keep watching it. I'd advise you to watch the director's cut because that has all of the storylines in the episode instead of the tv version which is more censored and has a lot of deleted scenes that mess with the flow of the storyline. Still, one of my favourite Thai shows right now.

Ratings: 4/5 I think 4/5 is a fair score just because of some confusion when trying to watch it internationally and getting the right version and I do think the story feels like a whiplash between the different styles of writing of the main two couples. Go watch this though if you haven't, dm me and I'll show you how.

NON-THAI

3. GAYA SA PELIKULA

Genre/Themes: Romance, Drama, Comedy, Angst, LGBTQ+ Education, Contract relationship, Haters to lovers

Country: Philippines

Verdict: Normally with verdicts, I have so much to say about a show, also when I analyse I can write essays and essays of information. When it comes to this show, I'm speechless. I'm in awe; I'm crying just even trying to explain how great this show is. How great Fridays are because of this show. How upsetting and damaged I am when the end of the episode occurs, I literally mourn waiting for the next episode the next week because it's too long. This show pulls you in, and it never lets you go. I'm mindblown by the writing of this show, mindblown by the acting, by the production, music, but most of all I have become a mess because of this meta in this show. I have cried so much because of how much I care about this show, the characters are all fleshed out, are so powerfully written, and emotionally tugs at your heartstrings whilst still educating and representing LGBTQ community fantastically. I don't know what we did to deserve a show like this. Maybe its because after years of waiting for something to finally show up and just be unproblematic and be so great with no questions, no confusions, no struggle, this show is just that. And I will be forever thankful to the whole team that brought this to us

Ratings: 5/5 I would give this more than 5 if I could. That's how much this show means to me.

4. CHERRY MAGIC

Genre/Themes: Romance, Comedy, Supernatural, Office drama, Slice of Life

Country: Japan

Verdict: Kurosawa and Adachi. That's it. That's the reason for the 5/5 stars when it comes to watching this show. First of all, I like Japanese romantic comedy shows, and anime, and manga. So seeing cherry magic come to life as this amazing form of that makes me so happy. Typically with Japanese BL, everything feels so serious sometimes, and then sometimes it feels too crazy and over the top. But Cherry Magic just feels like a warm hug when you watch it; you can't help your self but to smile and giggle at Adachi's adventures realising that he can read minds because he's a virgin at 30 years old. To add to that, he is given Kurosowa this incredible, amazing, wonderful non-toxic man who absolutely adores him and unconditionally is there for him. I just like what? Where do I get my own Kurosawa? Like it just feels so unfair haha. But really cherry magic is full of great acting, fantastic plot and unique as well. Every character is also written well, and all have interesting dynamics. We also have another side couple who is so funny and ridiculous but also just cute and heartwarming. I have a great time watching this show and the fact that it's ending on Christmas day? Already tells you what this show is, a gift and its a great one.

Ratings: 5/5 I want my own Kurosawa. That's it. That's all I want Universe.

Shows Upcoming

5. THARNTYPE 7 YEARS OF LOVE

Genre/Themes: Romance, Drama, Comedy, Mature, LGBTQ+ Representation, Internalised homophobia, Sequel

Country: Thailand

Verdict: This is a complicated show to gush about. First of all TharnType, the series in 2019 was one of my favourite shows that brought me back to this BL thing. I absolutely adore all the actors, and I also loved the storyline like I said before there's something about Mame's writing that I appreciate, I think most of her strengths is found in TharnType. Because of this, this sequel is one of my most anticipated show this year. However, I feel conflicted because I hate sequels. I hate couples having to go through the weird-ass, shallow, conflicts that just end up ruining the meaning of their previous show and leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth about the couple I once loved (Looking at you Together with me the next chapter still traumatised honestly). Enough of the negatives, Tharn and Type from the trailer looks like it's going to be a wild ride, I can even see the great chemistry that made me fall for MewGulf, and I'm so excited to see the new couples and characters. I also am so excited to see TECHNO again and laugh with him every Friday. We also know that the awaited wedding between our couple is also going to be in this show. And that's going to make me bawl like a baby. Let's hope we don't have too many toxic or troublesome storylines, let's hope we don't have too many breakups and fights (because that hurts so much seeing Mew cry) and let's hope we finally have a sequel that is better than its predecessor.

Ratings: 4.5/5 This is how I feel about it, I don't think I can rate it as 5/5 because of all the worry and anxiety at what the storyline entails—still a great show to look forward to.

6. MANNER OF DEATH

Genre/Themes: Romance, Crime, Mature, Angst, Drama, Mystery, Thriller, Haters to Lovers

Country: Thailand

Verdict: Think about it. Why wouldn't this be number one on everyone's list of upcoming BLS? We have the return of one of the best actors in this genre MaxTul the actual godfathers of Thai BL; we have an incredible team here with a director that has won multiple awards, with a storyline that is unique to Thai BL, we're getting crime, detective, mystery BL with mature characters who are not in university? As if that's not enough, we also have a really incredible plotline about this forensic doctor who falls in love with someone who we are not sure if we should trust because he could be a murderer! Like oooh yes please, the drama, the angst, the thrill?? I'm ready for this; I am so prepared to give my whole heart and attention on this show. I want it to be so good, to defeat the shows of 2019 that came and took our hearts away, to be the best BL ever. It's so difficult not to raise my expectations when it comes to this show when I know we have a great cast, great chemistry, non-stiff acting, and just a really non-toxic author as well. I look forward to this so much. Only issue/question? Where is the trailer? Hello WETV, where is our teaser? Why don't we know the date for when this is coming out? I want it out now. But I'll try and be patient okay?

Ratings: 5/5 I can't think of how this show won't be good. And that's really worrying. But for now, I'll keep my expectations high and wait.

7. TONHON CHONTALEE

Genre/Themes: Romance, Coming of Age, Angst, Comedy, Childhood friendship, GMMTV

Country: Thailand

Verdict: Podd and KHAOTHUNG, (my sun, my heart, my favourite person ever) Sorry just gushing over my two faves. GMMTV has shocked me this year with the announcement of this show. First of all, Khao gets to have a show where he's the main lead. I've been waiting for this, and I'm so proud and excited for him. Not only that obviously, but TonTonChontalee looks really good with a vibe of a comedic spin to one of my favourite shows Theory of love. I am ready to see Podd act so stupid as Ton and at the same time sob when he finally realises that Chon is the one. I'm so ready to see Khao act his socks off, and the show looks so funny, so fun and just like the chemistry between two is definitely a winner. I cannot wait for this next Friday. And it also has Mike and Toptap! What's not to love? Seriously though I'm praying this is successful, and it helps both Podd and Khao to dominate GMMTV. Let's find out next Friday.

Ratings: 5/5 For Podd and Khaothung. Just worth the rating.

8. GEN Y THE SERIES

Genre/Themes: Romance, Drama, Comedy, Angst, 2moons Fanfiction, Haters to Lovers

Country: Thailand

Verdict: First of all 2 MOONS Reunion! What?? Very shocked to see this show tbh one because it's like a direct copy of 2moons the series; the same cast, the weird alternations to the same name, the same kind of plot as well. Channel 3 has finally decided to invest in BLs, one of the biggest companies in Thailand, so the budget is high, the actors are known and famous, the production is good. This is so exciting to see. Also, 2moons was one of my favourite past BLs the whole time it was airing, and I had a massive affinity for Kimmon and Copter, so it's great to see them play their characters again but with a better budget and now glow up and grown. Their acting seems to have improved, Kit and Ming's storyline being the main focus is also really lovely to see. I also love seeing Bas and the other actors from other Bl series (The Moment actors) and I'm excited to know more about the new cast as well. So yeh this show has a great potential to win my heart as well, and the competition is not easy at all. But with a great company behind them and an exciting premise, this can also be a winner.

Ratings: 4/5 I'm intrigued by this show, and I look forward to seeing what it brings.

November is such an exciting month for someone like me who just loves watching tv and analysing and just seeing romance bloom. These couples, stories and actors have a great potential to be the best things of 2020 so far, each of these shows holds evidence that they're worth paying attention to and honestly I've missed seeing Thai BLs that make me so excited so much. I've missed these actors, I've loved each and every one of them, and I can't wait to see them this month on my screen. What about you, guys? What do you look forward to? Who are your favourites? What are you worried about when it comes to these comebacks. Let's discuss.

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sickficsforthesoul · 3 years ago

Text

Twin Idiots - Osamu

For @punkozume

Prompt: sick Osamu, caretaker Suna ft. caretakers Kita and Aran (Michinari is here too, but he doesn't do that much tbh)

Osamu with the flu and a very high fever, he tries to hide that he's sick from Suna and almost passes out on the school, has a lot of nightmares and is kind of delirious

Word count: 2433 words

If you couldn't tell, there will be a separate Atsumu version of this fic coming soon. I didn't include any nightmares, but if this fic does well enough, I'll write a (hopefully) short ficlet to follow this fic up and focus on the nightmares and delirium, so let me know what you think!

(Suna doesn't have an accent because I remember reading somewhere that he's from Tokyo originally, but idk if that's right, so if it's not, please forgive me and pretend it's my own headcanon, not me forgetting where Suna's from.)

‘It’s really chilly today,’ Osamu notices, shivering under his coat. While winter was never warm, Osamu can’t remember the last time he’s felt so cold. Even his long walk to the Inarizaki gym does nothing to warm him up. Osamu snuggles into his jacket as he trudges on. It’s not snowing yet, but the sky is cloudy and ominously gray, so Osamu doesn’t expect the ground to stay snow-free for long.

Osamu doesn’t have to put up with his idiot brother today, at least. Tsumu had left for his fancy volleyball camp in Tokyo for the entire week the day before, so Osamu is on his own in Hyogo. Osamu and Tsumu attended together last year, but when Osamu’s invitation failed to arrive along with Tsumu’s this year, he can’t say he was too surprised. Osamu has never been as into volleyball as Tsumu.

Osamu has his own interests, like cooking and chemistry, that he’s far more passionate about. Volleyball is fun, but Osamu knows he won’t be doing it for the rest of his life like Tsumu probably will. Tsumu will always put more into volleyball than Osamu, and that resulted in him being invited to the All-Japan Youth Intensive Training Camp while his brother was not.

Osamu’s not upset by any means. He’s enjoying the separation from his twin. For one week, Osamu can have his own room, cook whatever he feels like, and watch as many cooking shows as he pleases. It’s a weeklong vacation from his ridiculously loud brother, and Osamu intends to enjoy every second of it.

When Osamu finally reaches the gym, he relishes in the warmth of the cozy gym. It’s a welcome change from the frigid air outside, and now Osamu is finally warm enough to shed his coat after shutting the gym door. Most of his teammates are already in the gym, either changing or warming up. Inarizaki may be on winter break, but Kita was adamant that his team continue to practice, even with Tsumu away at camp.

Osamu is already in his practice gear, opting for donning a sweatsuit over top of his shorts and tee-shirt due to the freezing weather. Osamu dumps his coat, bag, and other belongings along the wall before stashing his water bottle on the bench. Suna hasn’t shown up yet, so Osamu begins his warmup stretches alone. By the time Osamu has stretched his legs and hips, Suna and the rest of the team have finally assembled in the gym.

Once everyone is ready, Kita gives out instructions for what everyone will practice today. Most players are assigned exercises or drills for their current position, but Osamu isn’t so lucky. With Tsumu gone, Kita decides to use his absence as an excuse to work on Osamu’s setting. Osamu isn’t thrilled about the idea, but at least Kita, Michinari, and Suna will be working with him today, so practice shouldn’t be too miserable.

They begin simply, with Osamu setting to just Suna. Suna spikes Osamu’s set, Michinari digs up the spike, and Kita sends the ball over the net for Osamu to practice setting mid-rally. They continue the drill for a while, so Osamu can get in a grove before he tries more difficult sets later on. Osamu doesn’t love setting as much as Tsumu does, but he will admit that he��s enjoying the easy rhythm of the drill a lot. It’s a nice change of pace from his usual blocking and spiking, and Osamu enjoys setting to his best friend much more than he thought he would.

But Osamu’s enjoyment doesn’t last. When Kita finally sends them off for a water break, Osamu is feeling off. His muscles ache constantly, and he’s oddly cold despite the snug warmth of the gym. Osamu takes a sip of water from his bottle and sits on the ground in front of the bench. He leans his head against the bench and glances up at the gym ceiling. This proves to be a mistake as the bright ceiling lights cause a headache to flare in his temples. Osamu lowers his head and focuses on finishing his water, hoping futilely that he was just a little dehydrated.

Kita calls Osamu, Michinari, and Suna back to the court for more practice. This time, Aran joins them too. Kita explains the new drill they’ll be working on now. ‘It’s basically the same as the other drill,’ Osamu thinks quietly. The only difference between the drills was that now Osamu can choose between setting to Suna or Aran.

They get to work, and Osamu quickly adjusts to having a new spiker. His sets to Aran aren’t as clean or precise as Suna’s, but Osamu knows his sets are improving with every toss. Osamu’s headache also increases with every toss, but he doesn’t want to think about that. Kita will give him hell for practicing with a headache, and Osamu doesn’t want to get chewed out like Tsumu did when Kita caught him practicing with a cold. So Osamu stays quiet while they practice. Even as his headache gives way to nausea, and his body trembles with small shivers whenever he stands still for too long.

By the time Kita calls for another water break, Osamu is miserable. His arms ache fiercely from setting, and his legs are so shaky that he barely makes it back off the court. Suna fixes Osamu with a blank stare as soon as Osamu manages to stumble to the bench. Kita and Aran also stare at Osamu, but they remain silent. Osamu shifts awkwardly, eventually opting to lean forward and stare at the ground because that position lessened his headache the most. Osamu’s teammates still say nothing. The minute of silence between the four of them is almost as painful as Osamu’s raging headache, and that’s saying something because Osamu is pretty sure his brain is trying to escape from his skull with how hard his head is pounding.

Finally, Suna opens his mouth. “You’re an idiot, Samu.”

“No ‘m not,” Osamu mutters weakly.

“You are,” Suna insists. “You’re one big, sick idiot, Samu.”

“But ‘m not sick,” Osamu whines quietly. He knows he is, but he can’t bring himself to admit to being sick because then Kita will lecture him for practicing when he’s sick. Osamu can handle a lot of things, from a moping Tsumu to an Instagram-crazy Suna, but Osamu cannot handle a Kita lecture. Kita isn’t the type to yell or swear, but he always sounds so disappointed, and Osamu can’t stand disappointing someone he admires so much over such a stupid mistake.

“I hope you’re lying, Samu, because if you’re not, you’re a lot stupider than I thought you were,” Suna frowns slightly. “Maybe even stupider than your dumb twin.”

“Take tha’ back, ya jerk,” Osamu slurs, lifting his head to look at Suna’s near-expressionless face.

“Then stop acting like an idiot,” Suna counters, his voice still a steady monotone. “You need to go home. Like, now.”

Osamu sighs tiredly, lowering his head to face the ground again. His body agrees with Suna completely, but somehow, Osamu still doesn’t want to leave. Maybe it’s his hypercompetitive instincts from practicing with Tsumu so much, but Osamu doesn’t want to leave until practice is finally over. It’s completely ridiculous, Osamu knows, because he doesn’t even love volleyball that much. But Osamu hates leaving things half-finished, even if his body burns with fever, and his head throbs with every breath.

Osamu remains silent, so Suna takes matters into his own hands. Suna slides off the bench and stands in front of Osamu. Suna bends down and takes Osamu’s shaking hands in his own warm, steady ones. Then he gently pulls Osamu to his feet.

Osamu’s body strongly protests the sudden position change. Osamu’s headache intensifies to a new level of excruciating pain, and intense dizziness makes Osamu’s head spin. Osamu desperately tries to keep his balance, but his weakened body doesn’t stand a chance against the sudden but fierce wave of lightheadedness. Osamu’s body pitches dangerously as shadows creep into the edges of his vision. He feebly reaches for Suna, trying to steady himself before faints onto the gym floor.

Osamu tilts forward, his chin coming to rest on Suna’s shoulder before Osamu’s knees give out completely. Suna squawks in surprise as he suddenly finds himself bearing all of Osamu’s weight. Suna carefully guides them both to the floor as Kita and Aran dart off the bench to offer aid.

Osamu is still conscious (somehow), so he is distantly aware of everything his friends do to help him. Kita and Aran grab Osamu’s shoulders and pull him off Suna. They settle Osamu on his back lying prone on the gym floor. Suna takes Osamu’s ankles and holds them up at chest level to get some blood flowing back towards Osamu’s head. Michinari zooms off, returning seconds later with his and Aran’s duffle bags. Michinari stacks them to an acceptable height, and Suna rests Osamu’s feet on the bags.

Kita pillows Osamu’s head in his lap. “Osamu,” Kita calls softly, “are ya still with us?”

“Hm…? Yeah…” Osamu mumbles as his hazy eyes lock on Suna, who’s still kneeling by Osamu’s feet. “’m with ya…”

“Tha’s good,” Kita smiles gently. He rests a soft hand lightly on Osamu’s forehead. “Ya have a wicked fever there, Osamu. Do ya want some water?”

“Ya,” Osamu nods weakly. “‘m thirsty.”

“Here, Samu.” Aran offers the sick boy a water bottle, but Osamu’s hands are shaking too hard to hold it without splashing water everywhere, so Kita helps Osamu sit up more while Aran holds the bottle.

Osamu drinks greedily, only stopping to gasp for breath every few gulps. Aran sets the bottle on the floor once Osamu empties it completely. Osamu’s appearance has improved considerably by now. His face is regaining color, his eyes aren’t foggy, and his body has stopped trembling like a leaf in the autumn wind. Kita and Aran help him sit all the way up, and when he still looks okay, they beckon Michinari and Suna over to help them get Osamu standing.

Once Osamu is on his feet, Aran and Suna support the sick blocker by his shoulders. Kita goes to explain the situation to their coaches while Michinari does the same for the rest of the team, who had slowly stopped practicing once they noticed what was going on with Osamu.

Suna and Aran slowly walk Osamu to the door. They stop briefly to haphazardly dress Osamu in his coat as well as Suna’s hat and Aran’s scarf. Ginjima, who has slipped away from the team gather with Michinari, holds the door open for them. Ginjima has the trio’s bags. He passes off Osamu’s bag to Suna along with Suna’s own bag while giving Aran his bag too.

“Ginjima,” Aran says as he and Suna maneuver Osamu out the door, “please let Kita know we’re leavin’.”

“Sure,” Ginjima agrees, eyeing Osamu worriedly. “Are ya takin’ him home?”

“Yeah,” Suna replies. “He’s going straight to bed when we get there since he won’t rest unless we make him.”

“Okay. Good luck, then.” Ginjima wishes them well with a wave before he closes the gym door.

Suna and Aran make the agonizingly slow trip to the Miya household. It takes them over an hour to get Osamu home. By the time they reach the front door, snow flurries are falling onto their hair and eyelashes. It takes another fifteen minutes to get Osamu upstairs, changed, and settled into bed.

Osamu’s parents aren’t home, so it’s up to Aran and Suna to find Osamu medicine, water, and food. Suna tackles the food because Aran admits that he’s never done more than boil water, and Osamu will kill them for destroying his kitchen, even if he’s burning with an extremely high fever (the thermometer Aran finds in the bathroom reads 39.5°C after resting under Osamu’s tongue for a minute). Suna reheats leftover rice he finds in the Miya’s refrigerator and dumps it in a bowl. It’s hardly gourmet cuisine, but Osamu will be too loopy to care anyway. Suna also fills a glass with water before carrying both things up to the twins’ shared bedroom.

Aran is sitting on a chair across from Osamu, who is snuggled up on the bottom bunk. Aran takes the water from Suna and forces Osamu to swallow both the fever reducers he’s found and the entire glass of water. Once Osamu’s finished, Suna presents him with the bowl of reheated rice. Osamu only finished half of it, but Suna didn’t expect much more, even with Osamu’s reputation for his voracious appetite.

“I have ta go home now,” Aran admits as he gathers the bowl and glass. “Are ya goin’ to stay with him?”

“Yeah, at least until his parents get home,” Suna nods. “We can’t leave him alone when he’s like this.”

“Ya,” Aran agrees. “I’ll clean this up before I go. I left the medicine on tha bathroom sink, and the thermometer’s right there.” He nods to the thermometer lying next to Osamu’s pillow. “Thanks fer stayin’ with him, Suna.”

“S’not a problem,” Suna hums lightly. “You should get going before your mom comes looking for you.”

Aran laughs, “Good point. I’ll see ya later, Suna.”

Aran leaves, taking the bowl and cup with him, so now it’s just him and Osamu in the bedroom. Suna reaches out to ruffle Osamu’s gray hair. “You’re still an idiot, Samu.”

“I know,” Osamu cracks his eyes open slightly and smiles, “but yer not.”

“Obviously,” Suna smirks, “but you’re not as stupid as Tsumu. Not yet, at least.”

“Gee, thanks, Suna,” Osamu laughs faintly. “Thanks fer stayin’.”

“You didn’t seriously think I’d leave with you like this, did you?” Suna raises a slim eyebrow.

“Nah,” Osamu smiles, “yer too good of a friend fer that.”

“You’re getting soft on me, Samu,” Suna smiles back.

“I’m sick, ya jerk,” Osamu huffs. “I’m allowed ta be soft.”

“You are sick,” Suna concedes, “but you’re still an idiot, and sick idiots need sleep.”

“Who’s gettin’ soft again?” Osamu quips, but his eyes still slip shut without protest.

“Goodnight, Samu.” Suna pats Osamu’s head gently as he settles himself onto Aran’s now vacant chair.

“G’night, Suna,” Osamu yawns, finally drifting off into a feverish but natural sleep.

Suna adjusts Osamu’s blankets and pulls out his phone. Knowing Osamu, the night won’t be as peaceful as Suna is hoping for, so he plays stupid mobile games on his phone and waits for what he knows will come in a few hours.

#osamu miya #suna rintaro #kita shinsuke #aran ojiro #akagi michinari #haikyuu!!#haikyu!! whump #haikyuu whump #sickfic #sickiesoul writes #fever #fainting #sort of #request #haikyu whump #whump #anime whump

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vs-redemption · 4 years ago

Note

I though of another thing lmao. I play a lot of video games too lol

But Dabi x Healer!Reader

(I was thinking of mercy from ow so reader has the ability to heal and damage boost her allies and revive them from the dead. - I would say to nerf that for the story it would depend on how long and how they died) - 🐱❤️

From Cindy: 🐱anon! I love you and miss you!! I’m sorry it took so long to get to this! I’ve been a busy bee recently and have had some writers block but I’m feeling very refreshed now! I had fun writing about our favorite burnt villain boy, and I hope you like how this turned out! ❤️ ❤️

Partners (Dabi x GN!Reader)

Dabi was not ashamed to admit that his only reason for recruiting you into the league of villains was to use you for your quirk. It seemed like your powers had almost been designed specifically to support his goals and make up for his weaknesses. His intense blue flames caused severe damage to his body, but your healing touch could fully recover him in an instant. And anything in his path that could somehow withstand the heat of his flames would be burnt to ash instantly with a simple boost from your quirk. You were the perfect tool, and he had fully planned on capitalizing on that.

“I trust you to find people to support our cause,” Shigaraki had told him in the beginning, “but don’t you think this person is just going to be a liability in a fight?”

It was a concern he and Dabi had shared and was the biggest drawback to allowing you to join the team. You couldn’t defend yourself and would need to rely on the other villains to keep you safe whenever things got dangerous. If there was anything Dabi hated more than anything, it was pretending to care about other people. It was bad enough he had to stomach Shigaraki and the others, but at least he could trust them to hold their own in a battle. In exchange for your incredible abilities, you were going to be a constant thorn in his side. However, the pros outweighed the cons and he ultimately ended up agreeing to let you join.

At first, he thought he might’ve made a big mistake. You got along a little too well with the others, and ideally he wanted you to prioritize him over everyone else. Unfortunately, he was awful at faking interest and carrying conversations about anything that wasn’t related to himself, so building any sort of connection with you felt basically impossible. After some thought, he decided to keep his distance as much as possible unless interaction was absolutely necessary. As long as you remembered why he’d recruited you in the first place, and used your quirk the way he’d intended, he’d be satisfied.

Dabi was very familiar with rage. It was the emotion that had kept him constant company since he was a small child, and the emotion that fueled and motivated him whenever things got too painful or difficult. However, as familiar as he was with rage, he’d never learned how to control it when something triggered an outburst. So, when you refused to give his flames a boost during a particularly intense showdown with the heroes, he’d gone completely ballistic. Even without your powers, the intensity of his quirk has been magnified causing his flames to go wild. The anger had consumed him so completely that not even a direct order from Shigaraki had been able to stop him from unleashing the waves and waves of blue fire. The heat was so overbearing that both the heroes and villains had been forced to retreat.

Back at the hideout, you did your best to keep Shigaraki calm while you tended to the wounds incurred during the fight, including some nasty burns on Twice’s arms from when he’d tried to approach Dabi and reason with him. The fire wielder in question had not returned to the base with the others, choosing to continue on the warpath until someone managed to stop him or he wore himself out. He was surprised when it was you who came back out a few hours later to retrieve him from the dark alley way he’d hidden himself away in. Despite his exhaustion and the excruciating pain all over his entire body, he went right back on the defensive as soon as he saw your face.

“You must have a death wish!” His says through a grimace. A ball of fire appears in his hand threatening, but you could see the steam coming off of his skin from how much he’d overused his quirk already.

“From where I’m standing, I’d say it’s you with the death wish,” you frown. “How much longer do you think your body can hold out if you continue like this?”

“That’s none of your business!” Dabi snaps and takes a shaking step forward. “I only allowed you to join our cause so that you could support us in fights.”

“And I will lend you my support when it is beneficial to the cause,” you fold your arms and fix him with a hard glare. “The league needs you. But look at how your raw power affects your body on its own. If I boosted your quirk, you’d be a pile of ash and bones in an instant.”

“That’s not your call to make,” Dabi growls before his flame sputters out and he stumbles forward. You put your arms out instinctively to catch him, but the heat coming from his skin is painful to the touch. You help him to the ground as gently as you can and carefully start to heal his wounds. Thankfully he doesn’t protest.

“It is my call to make if it affects me,” you argue as you hover your hands over his skin. “My quirk has limits just like anybody else’s. Do you really expect me to help you destroy yourself knowing it’s going to be my responsibility to fix you again afterwards?”

Dabi hoped that was a hypothetical question. What he expected was for you to do whatever he asked, whether it put physical strain on you or not. He did understand your thought process though. His quirk was both a blessing and a curse, and the level of his power was closely tied to the intensity of his emotions. It was definitely possible that a boost to his flames could push him a little too far.

“You know,” you plop down next to him on the dirty ground once you finish doing what you can for his burns, tired from exerting yourself more than usual that day. “Maybe instead of testing the limits of your mortality, you could just try relying on your allies instead.” You glance over at him to see a scowl take over his features, and when he finally turns to meet your gaze you simply smile. “Even if you only put your trust in one single person, you might find that accomplishing your goals becomes far easier. I’m sure you’re not the only one in our group with ulterior motives, so working with someone rather than against could be mutually beneficial.”

Trust was not something Dabi had much experience with. He wasn’t sure he could trust another person, and it probably wasn’t safe for other people to trust him either. Still though, an under the table partnership might not be a bad idea, and was part of his original plan for you anyway. He wasn’t a fan of compromises, and you didn’t seem like the type to be easily bullied into compliance, but having someone working with him specifically rather than indirectly through Shigaraki might prove useful. And if things didn’t work out, he could always ditch you later. Or perhaps you were even more perfectly matched with him than he originally thought. In which case, it might be possible for him to learn how to do that pesky ‘trust’ thing. Only time would tell.

#🐱 anon #Dabi x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #Dabi #bnha dabi #bnha #mha #Cindy's Writing

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death---dealer · 4 years ago

Text

Sound Barrier. [ Peter Maximoff Imagine].

It was inevitable, my comeback and all but here I am. Writing once again for this angle. Oh sorry I mean angel. Let's hurt ourselves, why not? Likes and reblogs are appreciated guys. Hit me up if you'd like more!

Title: Sound Barrier.

Summary: Just toying around with the idea of the Multiverse within WandaVision. How did this version of Quicksilver end up here? Does Contain some spoilers for WandaVision so read at your own risk.

Words: 891.

Rating: T.

Smooth. Whatever was around his neck was smooth, too tight, not his type of jewelry but he wouldn’t complain if it were fingertips gently pressing there, eager to hold or looking for a pulse.

Pulse.

Beating.

A heart beat.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like the blood that was in his lungs from bullets were drowning him, tearing him down, further than he had ever been. Sinking in an abyss he wasn’t staring down to begin, but somehow, he had been pushed, he had been dragged, tooth and nail into this. If he tried to scream, nothing was coming out. If he tried to scream for someone; Kurt, Scott, Professor?… Someone! Wanda, mom, dad! Wait, that isn’t right--- He’d start to think but that would fall away moments later. Wanda… Wanda was right, mom was right… Dad was right… Kurt, he never knew one, Scott? That was a common enough name, maybe somewhere in his life he knew someone named that but now… The only name that swirled in his name was Wanda. A face came to him, unfamiliar in the moment but as he stared into her equally dark eyes, lips parted and he said it. “Wanda.”

‘Pietro.’ This person thought in response before actually speaking, “Yeah, he’s far away from here. And that makes me… Sad sometimes…” It was almost as if Peter were in the room as this was being said, hovering, watching this woman speak with two young children about this Pietro she knew. He felt it--- the sadness, the longing and grief she felt. It was overwhelming, unbearable and for this time, Peter felt like he couldn’t breath and that sensation of drowning overcame him once again.

Maximoff…

Eyelashes fluttered.

Dark eyes impaled open sharply, unfocused on color around him that took a moment to decipher. It was green, hovering above him uncomfortably and swaying as a small breeze rolled in. Color… In color, that’s a tree, the man thought to himself and tried desperately to take a breath into his lungs with hesitation in fear of pain. His eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. But… There was nothing excruciating. His face, only a few seconds ago, was pressed against the cold ground, blood surrounding him, but now---

Peter gasped, sitting up and touching his shoulder where there should have been a bullet, or at least a scar. Through the leather jacket adorning his body, there was nothing when his fingers came into view for a split second before attacking his chest, frantic to find some reminisce of a gunshot wound. No blood--- nothing, he felt--- Normal, in a sense that he was alive. Normal, that he had ten fingers, two legs, two arms and a face. His left hand grasped around his neck for a moment longer, now remember the first thing he felt coming into this. Smooth, the necklace around his neck… It was smooth, small shells they felt like. Drifting upwards, his hand brushed through his soft hair as another gasp left his round lips. What was he doing? Where… Where was he? As if allowed, he looked around and furrowed his strong eyebrows. It looked like… Suburban America. The idea, small American town. A woman walked passed, dog in tow and didn't even spare him a second glance as if it were completely normal to see a man sprawled out on someone’s lawn in the middle of the day. Peter grasped hold of the white fence beside him and managed to stand on his own two feet. Surreal, it felt as if he hadn’t walked in years, let alone run. It was as if his legs were made of jelly and the comprehension of running seemed miles ahead of him, almost tauntingly. Gazing down at his body, he seemed almost perplexed. What he was wearing was--... Well, in his own taste as if he had picked it out himself. The Hawaiian shirt, while a little loud, was perfect, the leather jacket was a complete staple, the tight black jeans… Everything was as if he were plucked from one place and merely set in another. There was almost a sickening sensation in his stomach as he thought of that metaphor. Being plucked from one place and set in another… He shook his head like a headache was nagging in the back of his mind

What happened to the X-Men? He thought to himself and pressed a hand to his forehead. What happened to the---

Who are the X-Men? I’ve never heard of that before? What was he thinking? His thoughts were twenty miles an hour it seemed. It wasn’t painful but it was as if he were swallowing a large pill without any chaser to drown it down.

Wanda.

You need to find Wanda.

She’s your sister! She’s sad, you’re sad too---! Your twin! Which is why you can feel what she feels, right? Twins have that intuition sometimes, right? You miss her, you remember her… How you’d cradle her head and kiss her forehead when she was upset, she was all you had after your parents died---

But I only have my mom and my younger sister! I don’t know---

No! Your parents both died in Sokovia. You remember them. You remember their faces, they’re what’s in your memory. Your name is Pietro Maximoff.

Find her.

Remember your life?

Find that.

#wandavision spoilers #wandavision #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #xmen #marvel #fanfiction #fanfic

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dodo-begone · 4 years ago

Note

There’s actually a really cool Dream SMP fic called Rewind on AO3 that does the Loyalty on a person concept! The story is fucking AMAZING. In the fic, Dream put Loyalty III on a basically brainwashed/stockholm syndrome Tommy. Instead of being forced to stay near Dream, he can’t go against anything Dream says. If Tommy even thinks about going against Dream’s orders, he feels excruciating pain where the enchantment is (tattooed on the back of his neck). However, there can be loopholes. For example, Dream ordered that Tommy never go to (or even talk about) a certain location. So, he gave someone else a note with directions and had them go instead. (Trying to be as spoiler-free as possible for in case anyone wants to read it!)

If Loyalty were to work the same way for the sake of the precious yanderes, would there be a change in who uses it?

Now, for how powerful each level may be. For III, I’d say—with how the story writes it—it’s is fucking intense. And that’s putting it very lightly. I don’t even know where to begin with an explanation. The author has yet to use or mention how the other two levels would work on a person, but I’d say that it’s calmer versions of III. Perhaps one of them persuades you to go along with what the yandere wants by planting words or thoughts instead of pain. Kind of like a quiet (or maybe even loud) nagging voice. Does that make sense? Or perhaps headaches or nausea if you try and disobey direct orders/request/etc. Something to make you want to avoid disobeying. Or even just less intense pain.

So, who would be at least somewhat merciful towards their darling and only use Loyalty I or II, if they even choose to use the enchantment at all? And who wouldn’t let there be a single chance of darling disobeying, at least, not without extreme consequences?

Now I REALLY wanna check that out!!!! It sounds like such a good fic!

Yeah that makes absolute sense!! Just like,, a subconscious thing. Where it’s more of advice/a gut feeling that you can either ignore or go with.

Now for mercy? Hmm, that’s hard to say. Now Techno, if we’re going with this type of Loyalty, would most definitely put a 1 or 2 on you. Ranboo would also put a two on you. Just so you stay around him more and to prevent him from forgetting about you since you’re always around. And uuu, I can’t rlly think of ppl rn akdbsjsns

#rambling with dodo #ask #c: dream #c: tommy #c: techno #c: ranboo #tw: yandere

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archived-mononokeland · 4 years ago

Text

ask : Okay so I really like your LeviXhanahaki!reader one shot, I was wondering if there was any chance of your writing a follow up of maybe Levi finding out after MC has passed away.

ack - so i planned to post this along with the other ending version, but i figured it’s long overdue at this point and i should go with what i have!

warning: major angst, death, blood, hanahaki

“ too late “

It’s been centuries.

Well—it hasn’t, but that was what Levi felt like. He knows it’s maybe been a month, maybe two, but every second felt excruciating.

You weren’t joining the next exchange program. That much was found out when Diavolo called a meeting, saying that you declined his offer. He didn’t say that it was because you tore his letter and threw it away, but the concluded version was that you just would not come for another year.

Of course, it was met by questions and heartbroken glances between the brothers, but with time, they respected your wishes. No matter what it was, they’d come to terms with it. Besides, it’s not as if they’re not allowed to stay in contact with you.

Except for one.

The amount of anxiety that crushed Levi was astronomical when each time you left him on read. Well, that wasn’t that often, but you never did that before! Even so, your answers always came late, with a reply that. . .seem to lack your familiar flare.

The thoughts that came with him being the Avatar of Envy came, stronger now. And each time, he reminded himself that hey, you have a life of your own in the human world (but perhaps that was a tamer form of his spiraling mind).

Until you became more and more off.

Not only him, your response spread to each brother. Such topic was only brought up when they mentioned the differences in your texts during a groupchat talk. You’ve declined every phone call they made (well, more of that you let the phone ring and never pick up, despite you being online, but same thing), which was understandable to some.

Each thought it was an individual thing, and it wasn’t.

It has been brought to you for questioning, yes. They had their own talk of, “Hey, human, are you okay?” And even then, your answer would be a, “yeah, sorry, i just feel tired ^^;;”

Whether they bought it or not, is unknown to you. You hope they do, anyway.

Each day dragged on for the third-brother of them all. He knew he’d miss the human, they were his true friend after all, but. . .this feeling wasn’t one he liked. At all. In fact, he despised it to his very core. But why was he feeling like this for a normie. . .?

It didn’t matter, he thought as he turned off his D.D.D. Another text of his left on read. . .he hoped you were okay.

[ ✿ ]

You hate it, you despise it. Each day is harder, increasing in the amount of petals—hell, fully bloomed flowers appeared a lot more often—thrown out. You thought it’d decrease since your departure from Devildom, but unfortunately, it seems to be the opposite. You don’t know what it is, shouldn’t the effects be lessened once you’re not in the vicinity of the other party?

Or maybe it was the factor that he was a demon, and you were a human. The situation of a human getting Hanahaki from a creature of hell was very likely to not be documented in any books you’ve read.

Still, even so, you were going to die in the near future. The flowers tell you as much.

They were enough to make a bouquet, you notice. All the ones you’ve spat out were in perfect condition (minus the spit and blood), no tears at the petals, even, in some cases, the stamen and carpels seemed as if untouched, and not forced out your throat. And as a result, you’ve began to collect them and put them in pots you found around the house. Whether you’d like to admit it or otherwise, it was one of the only moments you left your room.

Each type of flower, you fitted in different pots and vases. The most prominent ones that you remember were hyacinths (purple, to be exact), gardenias, marigolds, and yarrows. You keep the other, lesser flowers, all huddled in one big vase. Perhaps they’ll be the secret pieces to your tragedy.

You wonder how long they’ll last after you die.

Such a waste of beauty, you ponder, gently plucking a gardenia from the rest. The white petal flutters as you twirl it aimlessly. The white canvas once red, now back to its purest colors, until it will inevitably wilt away.

The sound of a knock flooded you ears, breaking down your thoughts and pulling you back to earth. You shoved the flower back to its place and hurried up to the door. Who could it be? You haven’t had a visitor in a while now.

Whoever came to mind while you made your way, it certainly wasn’t correct. Instead, you were greeted with a tuft of white hair that you didn’t exactly expect at all. “Solomon!” Your surprise was very much evident both in your voice, and facial expression, “It’s. . .nice to see you here.”

“Hello,” he greets you with an easy smile of his own, “It’s quite the surprise visit, isn’t it? I apologize for that.”

“It’s fine, really!” You force a laugh, sounding a lot hoarse than you thought it would. Even so, “Please, come in!”

You ushered him inside and you close the door behind you. The sight of him looking around your abode doesn’t escape your gaze, it just leaves you a bit flustered, “I’m so sorry it isn’t. . .that presentable, I wasn’t expecting a guest. I can go make some tea, or anything.”

“It’s fine, really.” He gives you yet another small smile, but it quickly turns into a rather sympathetic gaze. He’s noticed your weary expression, your tired tone. “But I think you should go grab a drink for yourself.”

“. . .Yeah, I will. The living room’s down the hall, make yourself at home.”

You don’t raise an objection—the two of you know how much you need it. Well, more you than him, but that’s to be expected.

You get yourself a glass of water, and the cold water punches at your sore throat. A choked up feeling remains, but it’s been there for a while, and you pay no mind to it. You just hope you don’t start coughing up near your guest.

You push any thoughts left to the back of your mind and leave your kitchen. You arrive at your living room to find Solomon situating himself on your couch comfortably. You do the same across from him, “So, Solomon, I thought you were going back for a next year in the program?”

“Likewise to you,” his words left a cold metal press against your body, “but I told Diavolo I’d join next year.”

“I see.”

“And I was surprised when I heard you weren’t coming also. I thought you would’ve been ecstatic to go back.” His eyebrows arched at you, his head tilting slightly.

A sigh, “Well, yes, but—“ your eyes involuntarily glance at a vase positioned near a window, filled with the flowers from your lungs, “. . .it’s complicated.”

A silence hung itself in the air for a good few while, until the other hummed. “I see.” A mumble, nearly inaudible as his lips barely parted. And the silence continued. He’s staring at you, you feel it, and you refuse to stare back.

A cough threatens to break itself out from you. You beg for it to have mercy, please, just for now.

And a plead never stops a tragedy. Even if you fall to your knees, and beg and beg and beg, the scythe will strike you either way. Because, does Death hesitate when it sees someone in such a state? To not rip open the wound, for the reason that it’s time for the wound to be seen?

In the end, blood and secrets spill like a broken mess.

“You’re going to die, aren’t you?”

His question was a whisper, leaving your body cold and alone. Your eyes, while not even looking at him, wavered and roamed. Another flower blooms.

“. . .How. . .?” And, such is the only thing you could say. The petals inside you stroke your organs, and air feels impossible. Shocked, you are, and the world crashes down all at once.

Solomon’s gaze doesn’t give away the answer. And it looks like his lips won’t either; at least not a clear one. “. . .I have my ways.”

A fond smile touches your lips, now tracing over your eyes. “S. . Shady-ass.” Slowly, the world becomes fuzzy dots and continuously blurry. The wound you’ve so desperately tried to stitch close is ripping away, thread by thread. Another flower blooms.

“. . .And you haven’t told them, have you?”

Another question, and another stab to your soul. The wound is third-fourth of spilling its stained secrets, all in courtesy of you. “. . .Is this the purpose of your visit?” The world fades in and out, clear then muddy— “You’re. . .cruel, y’know?” Another flower blooms.

And not a word comes from him next. The silence was enough to rip at your open gash.

The world fades out of your vision as the flowers spill, coughing and clawing its way out of your throat. You don’t feel your body collapsing to the floor, your knees giving up on you, your body writhing itself to keep a stance. You don’t feel the widened gaze Solomon has on you.

Your focus is on your pain; and it slowly becomes your world. The blood that’s spilt, the scratches denting your lungs, the flood of colors sprayed mercilessly, the tears holding no stops or ends as it mixes with the others.

For a moment, you wonder if your blood and spit and tears are the only thing the flowers’ve felt.

[ ✿ ]

“I don’t get it! I know they’ve left me on read for a long time now, but they don’t even come online anymore!”

Levi’s exasperated words fill through the room without a problem. The other brothers in the room would’ve told him to calm down, had they not been on the same level of worry as he was. After all, it wasn’t only him that noticed you’ve not came online and even read any messages they sent for what—a week now?

They’ve all tried to contact you through various means, from the surface leveled texts and phone calls, to even using your pact to send messages by igniting your nerves through pain or the sorts.

None of them worked.

“Please, Lucifer, you have to let someone go up and check on them! Anyone!” Levi’s pleads added the weight of the burden said brother felt on his shoulders. He, too, felt the strong urge to go up and see you, but workload has inconveniently increased against his favors.

Even so, Lucifer sent no reply to his brother and looked away with a hesitant and equally pained gaze. However, after so many requests from his brothers, all those he shared, he relented, “. . .I will talk to Lord Diavolo about this.”

Glances were exchanged between all seven demons, and Levi huffed, sitting up from his chair in the dining room. The rest watched as he stormed into the hallway, and most likely, into his room.

Immediately, he made a beeline to his chair, throwing his body onto it and opening his D.D.D. as if it were a reflex. With his other hand, he reached to his mouse and logged onto something on his computer, not even bothering to spare a look. His fingers tap away into his Chats, and into yours and his. A week you’ve been gone.

His other hand glided away from his mouse, and onto his pact mark, situated on the left side of his stomach. A small wave of magic flows, and reaching to said mark, trying to fish out a response. Nothing. Not a pulse, not a shock, not anything to tell him you were there.

He’d try, and try, and try. But no answer came.

A buzz from his D.D.D. prevents his thoughts from spiraling. The brothers’ groupchat had a notification. His eyes lingered momentarily to the clock at the corner of his device, half an hour has already passed. Was it really that long he spent. . .? But the question was disregarded as he checked who it was.

Lucifer: I’ve talked with Lord Diavolo.

His heart leaps, and so does his anxiety.

Lucifer: He’s been worried as well, and so, one of you is permitted to go.

And with that one message, everyone started typing up at once, like a fire. Levi didn’t falter behind.

Leviathan: I’ll go.

And after it was sent, his thoughts melted to a puddle. All the texts that came after, most likely all the others wanting to go, became muddled visions to him. He can’t feel his arms, his legs, and lastly, the way his heart churns and squeezes so tightly in him.

It hurts, but reality pulled him back.

Levi blinked once, twice, then refocused on the screen bellow him. The words in the white box said by Lucifer shocked him, but sent a slight wave of relief, and also a shaking anxiety.

Lucifer: You’ll be going then, Levi.

Hurriedly, his trembling fingers struggle to get a response. A whirlwind spawns inside his heart and mind.

Leviathan: Huh?!

Leviathan: Uhm, when?

He considered asking why, but he didn’t want the decision to be backtracked.

Lucifer: You may go to the castle now to be transported.

And with that, Leviathan hurries out.

He doesn’t pay attention to what the Demon King in front of him say. Nor does he at the beatings of his own heart. Only a nod, and an occasional hum, and the portal flickers in front of him.

A portal to you.

He takes fast steps to the glimmering light, and his body warps to another world around him.

Despite wearing casual human clothes, his hand still wanders and threads over the pact mark hidden underneath the fabrics. Once again, magic flows from his fingertips, and his legs carry him where it leads to. You, hopefully.

He reaches a house. His magic says you’re here, but you yourself say you aren’t here. Instead of a solid presence around him, you were more of dust, sprinkling the air with a sense of. . .cold.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

His steps pick up as he walks to the door, and knocks. Silence, for a few, and then it opens, revealing someone—someone that isn’t you.

“Excuse me, sir, who are you?” It was a woman, mid-thirty’s he took a guess. Her tone was soft, ever so slightly broken, and her gaze was such as well.

“Uhm—“ A choked up feeling made itself home in Levi’s throat so suddenly. He wavered in every parts of his body, “I was. . .wondering if there’s someone named. . .”

He utters your name, gentle with such fragility. A looming hesitance and fear was evident as well, so none of his tone was positive by any means. The woman in front of him tensed, and gave a look of heart break.

No, it can’t be. It just can’t—

“. . .It’s. . .very unfortunate of me to say this, but. . .”

No, no no—

“. . .they’ve passed away.”

His world broke.

Sentences came after that. Leviathan knew, he just wouldn’t acknowledge. A sharp, excruciating pain imbedded deep in his heart, his mind, his body—his pact mark shattered, and so did he.

Even so, he reached—reached deeply inside of the shards of the broken him to utter out a sentence, and stay stable, if for a moment.

“. . .How. . . d-did—“

He cut himself off. He can’t go any further, he just can’t. Fortunately, the lady picked up and answered.

“. . .It’s from a rare disease.” Her voice was wavering, hesitant, but it was an answer nonetheless, “Hanahaki. A person sprouts flowers from their lungs due to unrequited love and it slowly kills them.”

She didn’t want to say any further, and he didn’t want to hear any further.

His legs were numb, his body hurt to exist, his heart ached to keep beating. A thud sounded as his knees collided with the concrete—his feet didn’t work. None of his. . .anything, did. The screams of agony were a vocalization of his tears, his pain. A hand clutched the mark—your mark—and a cold darkness bit back.

His hand would bleed, but he wouldn’t care. You were dead. You were dead you were dead you were dead you were—

Could he have stopped this? Maybe, if he wasn’t so ignorant, and checked up on you like an actual friend would—could he have stopped this? Maybe, maybe, you’d be there by his side, smiling cheekily and exclaiming it was a joke—or a nightmare, just—anything but reality.

Were you hurting? No, of course you were. And not uttering a word, to anyone, to him?

And for a moment, he wonders if your tears and blood were the only thing you felt when you died.

#obey me leviathan #obey me levi #shall we date obey me #obey me #obey me scenario #hanahaki #angst #tw death

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genevievemd · 4 years ago

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Burned to Ashes - Part 1

A/N: A baby bit of angsty longing, set after ch 3 of BK 2. This is part one, MC’s POV. Part 2 is Ethan’s and will be posted very soon after this. Because I wrote them together and then decided when I was done with MC’s part that I wanted to post them separately.

Title and fic inspiration from the song “I Will Never Let You Know” from the show Nashville. It’s literally so perfect for the angsty longing between Ethan and MC in the beginning of book 2.

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Genevieve McClure)

The hospital is quiet, the sound muted even more by the glass walls of the Diagnostics office. They’re alone, for the first time in a week, June and Baz having left almost an hour ago. But neither Genevieve nor Ethan have said a word to each other. She’s busy filing away the papers from the now solved Lamar Stevenson case and he’s at the desk, typing away on his laptop.

It feels like they’ve been avoiding this moment, at least Genevieve thinks so. The moment when they’re alone again and the mutual longing sits heavy in the air and neither makes a move to change it.

It’s excruciating, being so close and yet so far from him. She foolishly thought it would be easy, to go back to being just an attending and a resident like he wanted. But it wasn’t. It’s breaking her heart a little more everyday. A pain so deep it rivals the way Genevieve felt when Ethan left for the amazon without a word. Her heart longs for him, whispering his name with every beat. She wonders if his heart calls for her, if he aches for her the way she does for him.

Or maybe she was wrong to think he had fallen for her as hard as she had for him. Ethan told her once that there was no such thing has a romantic relationship between a resident and their attending. Maybe this truly was a one sided infatuation that went to far.

Genevieve swallows hard, standing up from the filing cabinet. She can feel the tears burning behind her eyes, the trembling of her bottom lip as she wills herself to not cry in front of him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her completely heart broken.

“Are you alright?” Ethan’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts. Standing in front of her, eyes filled with worry and longing, throwing all thoughts of whatever it was that they had being one sided out the window.

“Yeah.” She wants to say no, wants to fall into his arms and never let go. Wants to tell him to screw his stupid rules and whatever consequences there could be and just be together. It’s what she wants and on most days it feels like he wants it too.

“No you’re not. Something’s upsetting you. Is it the hospital? The Stevenson case?” Ethan steps closer, and she has to take a deep breath to steady herself.

“No.”

“What is it then?” The longing and concern on his face is entirely too much to handle and she has to turn away before the tears come rushing back.

“You’re not my boyfriend, Dr. Ramsey. If I tell you I’m fine, then I’m fine. End of discussion.”

“Gen...”

She can see him reach for her as she steps around him, the way his arm slowly falls to his side as she walks out of the office.

She makes her way down the hall, making sure to get far enough away so that he can’t see her through the glass, before falling back against a wall. Genevieve promised herself that she would no longer cry inside the four walls of the hospital. But every minute she spends with Ethan, while also being without him, is making that promise harder to keep.

“Hey,” She looks up to see Sienna, a caring smile on face. “Are you okay?”

“It’s so much harder than I thought it would be.” Genevieve can barely get the words out, voice cracking with every syllable.

Sienna quickly pulls her into a hug. Genevieve’s thankful to have at least one person who knows the truth. After Sienna and Elijah caught her sneaking Ethan out of their apartment months ago, Sienna promised to be her shoulder to cry on. Promised to keep her secrets and be her partner in crime.

“Want to go to Donahue’s and get drunk?”

Genevieve gives a half laugh, pulling out of Sienna’s embrace and wiping the tears off her cheek. “Can we go home, get wine drunk, bake cookies and watch The Notebook instead? I have a feeling he’s going to Donahue’s…”

“Say no more. Let’s go home.” Sienna links her arm in Genevieve’s, pulling her towards the locker room and far away from the keeper of her now broken heart.

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

a/n: I just want you all to know, that this hurt so much. Like I hurt myself writing this and I’m sorry.

Part 2 coming very soon. (probably in the next hour or so)

Part 2

Love you all so much - Sara

tag list:

@queencarb, @overwhelminglyaquarius, @me-and-my-choices, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @crazy-loca-blog, @a-crepusculo, @drakewalkerfantasy, @ohchoices, @adrex04, @udishaman, @drariellevalentine, @custaroonie, @archxxronrookie, @terrm9, @maurine07, @openheartthot, @gryffindordaughterofathena, @aworldoffandoms, @caseyvalentineramsey

LMK if you want to be added or taken off the tag list

#ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart second year #open heart fanfiction #ethan x gen

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shreddedparchment · 5 years ago

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Pseudo Princess Pt.23

Worry Wart

01/14/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 6,494

Warnings: Language, fluff, angst

A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter. It was such a struggle to write with all my styes these past two weeks, but I’m better now, hopefully for an extended period of time, please! Thank you, Universe! If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

“Your Majesty, you must calm down. This isn’t good for the child.” Nat’s hand hasn’t stopped stroking your back, gentle circles to soothe your sorrow.

“He h-hasn’t opened his eyes in three days.” You sob, unable to stop crying. When you aren’t crying, you’re pacing. When you aren’t pacing, you’re sitting at his side, stroking his hand. Full of anxiety.

“He’ll be alright, Y/N. I promise you.” Nat says.

“She’s right.” Bucky interjects. “He’s come back from worse.”

You look at Bucky then look at Nat. Behind Bucky is Sam, who sits looking almost as forlorn as you do and definitely more worried about Steve than Nat and Bucky seem to be.

“I never get used to it either.” Sam tells you, holding your gaze as you watch him lean forward, elbows on his knees.

He’s left the tie at the neck of his white linen shirt undone. No tunic, untucked. He’s been just as stressed as you have.

Your lip trembles.

“He does get better.” Sam assures you, nodding. Solemn and honest. He means what he says.

“He lost so much blood.” You whisper, voice weak and tired.

Sam blinks slowly. Knowing that there isn’t much that will calm you.

“Peter got him help in time. You stitching him up was a good idea.” He nods, impressed with you again as he had been when Peter had recounted your instincts for him.

“You should have seen her. By the time I got here, she was already cleaning his wound and when I came back with the doctor, she’d already stitched up one side of his injury. His back the doctor did.”

Why anyone would be impressed with such terrible work…Your hands had been covered in his blood. He’d been so pale.

You turn to look at Steve, shunning their praise because the only thing that matters is that he isn’t awake. His breathing is so unsteady. He’s so…how can someone so strong look so frail?

You take hold of his left hand with your own two, clutching him tightly before pressing it to your brow as you shut your eyes and try to take a breath.

“Please…Please, wake up for me, my love.” You kiss it then rest your cheek against it. You lay your head there, feeling him beneath you. He’s warm now at least. Wrapped in blankets and the fire burning bright.

You’re sweating but you don’t care. Bucky looks just as uncomfortable with the heat as Sam but he’s not sweating like you, Nat, and Sam.

Suddenly you realize that something is different about these two childhood friends. Steve and Bucky…there’s something more to them.

The wound below Steve’s breast would have killed any other man. You’re sure. You’ve seen wounds like it before. A sword. All the way through. In one side, out through the other.

He should be dead.

You sob.

Nat's soothing increases in pace. Bucky sighs heavily.

“Have you eaten?” Bucky asks, and you scoff, almost angry.

“I can’t eat right now.” You force yourself to focus the irritation inwardly.

He’s only worried for you. It’s kind.

“You should eat something.” Bucky insists. “When Steve wakes up, he won’t be happy that you did not take better care of yourself.”

He’s right of course…and…you appreciate very much that he said when Steve wakes up and not if.

Nat seems to know when you relent as she quickly sweeps to the cord by the hearth and pulls it. In the distance you imagine there’s probably a bell being rung. As you wait, Nat moves back to stand beside you, stroking your shoulder gently.

“How about a bath after you’ve lunched?” She probes.

You want to say no, but Bucky’s word ring in your ears still.

You nod.

“I know you’re worried, Y/N. But you can’t stop taking care of yourself. With Steve like this, the Kingdom turns to you for its strength.” She caresses the back of your head, smiling down at you softly when you meet her gaze with a furrowed brow.

You hadn’t even thought of that. If something should happen—it won’t!—then you will be Queen of Broklin, alone. No King. You will be expected to take control.

“Me?” You gasp, squeaking the word as untold pressures begin to settle on your shoulders.

Terrified, you get up, still clutching Steve’s hand when a sharp pain in your stomach has you hissing and doubling over.

“Your Majesty!” Bucky exclaims.

“Y/N!” Sam and Nat cry.

All three of them hurry to your side. Nat wraps one arm around your waist to support you.

“Alright. That is enough. You are taking a break from his bedside.” Nat chastises.

“No.” You gasp, holding your lower belly with one hand, fingers stroking the thick pale gray linen of your dress that surrounds your stomach.

“You’re sweating.” Nat observes. “You’re overstressing yourself.”

“Natasha is right.” Sam agrees. “A break is just what you need.”

“No!” You say more firmly.

It’s the first time you dare use your authority as Queen with them, but you mean it and it rings stern in your voice. It does what you need it to. They quiet and listen.

“I won’t leave his side.” You insist. “I’m sweating because this dress is too hot.”

You look at the caped sleeves, lined with snowy white weasel fur. The purfelle around the square neckline, the slits on its side. It’s a lot of warmth in addition to the fire still blazing that you refuse to put out. Steve's usual temperature is still not right.

“Shall I fetch you a new one?” Nat asks, eager to help.

You sigh, so tired of the fussing but also simply frustrated with Steve’s condition. You’re so…

As you look at her, you sway, hand still clutching your tummy.

“Your Majesty?” Bucky checks, reaching out for you too now.

“Nat…” You manage to whisper as the heat overcomes you and you slump backwards into her arms.

Bucky is there too, helping her support you.

You can still hear them and you’re not unconscious. Just dizzy and so exhausted. You’ve slept two hours today and maybe another two the night before.

Suddenly, you’re weightless.

“Put her on the bed beside him.” You can hear Nat saying.

Gently you’re lowered, soft mattress embraces you.

“I’m fine.” You say, weak but strong enough that your assurance helps temper their worry. “Just…I need to eat.”

Being off your feet helps and you begin to feel normal again. Just sleepy.

“Your food is on its way.” Nat nods. “And we’ll get you out of this dress.”

“Have you got her?” Bucky checks.

“Yes. But send for Grandmother. Just in case.”

Bucky nods. “I’ll send one of the squires. Oh, and the doctor will be here in two days. The council has settled on one and-”

Nat shakes her head. Frowning a little at her intended. “Not now. She has enough to worry about.”

“What?” You ask confused. “Wait, what doctor? I told you, I’m fine.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll discuss it when you’ve had some rest. Let me get the back of your dress.” Nat promises and helps you sit up.

Sam and Bucky leave, a young maid brings you a tray of meat pies and tarts, leaving them on the small table you and Steve had been eating on the past two weeks when the two of you refused to leave it.

As soon as the dress is removed, you breathe in deeply, your skin pimpling from the rush of fresh air.

“Better?” Nat asks, helping you strip.

You nod.

“Good. I’ll get your nightdress. You’re not leaving this bed until tomorrow.” She frowns, looking at your hand still somehow clutching at your bare belly now that she’s taken your dress and undergarments.

“Does it still hurt?” She asks, eyeing your hand as she pulls out a long cotton gown with a ruffled neckline that will fit loosely around your shoulders and cinched sleeves at the wrist, more ruffles laced with pale blue ribbons.

“No.” You rub your tummy, hoping the pain was really only induced by stress. “We’re alright.”

“You’re lucky Steve isn’t awake. He would be going mad with worry at any sign of distress in your pregnancy.” Nat sighs.

“I know.” You nod, holding out your arms as Nat comes with your gown ready for wearing.

Outside the wind whistles, thrashing the cottage’s stone walls violently. A cold breeze seeps through the cracks that you cannot see, and the room drops in temperature for a moment.

Nat quickly pulls down your gown then hurries to stoke the fire as it shifts with the burst of wind.

“If it goes out, ring for a servant to come and remake your fire. You cannot be in here without one. This cottage is old and can get very cold very fast.” She explains.

“He’s still so cold.” You worry, reaching over to take Steve’s right hand. “For how he normally feels.”

“Y/N…” Nat begins, sitting on your bedside as she reaches to remove your hand from his so that she can hold both of yours in her own. “I promise you-”

She ducks her head, trying to grab your attention and when you finally meet her eyes, she smiles.

“-I swear, he will pull through this. You were very smart to think on your feet, but Bucky is right. Steve has come back from much worse.”

You frown. “Why didn’t he tell me he was the Freedom Knight?”

“The Captain, actually.” Nat corrects you. “I know that the common folk have taken to calling him the Freedom Knight, but he prefers the Captain.”

Your mind is suddenly in a frenzy as you connect countless stories that you’d heard in your village about The Captain and the Freedom Knight. Both thought to be separate entities all rolled into one. He’s saved so many people, so many villages. Done amazing things and at times taken excruciating beating all in the name of those he protects.

“All of that was Steve?” You gasp, turning your eyes back on your husband.

“It’s unusual for a king to be so modest.” Nat nods. “Your father is more like what Steve would be expected to be.”

Your father, the Iron Man as he too prefers to be called instead of the Iron Knight as many you’d known had called him, is indeed the very type of King that is unabashedly brazen of his accomplishments.

“I didn’t know.” You whisper, reaching over to take his hand again.

“And he wanted it that way. But he was going to tell you. He wanted a little more time with you where he was only Steven Rogers, King of Broklin.” Nat explains.

“Did he think I would be angry? Disappointed? Impressed?” You ask, feeling hurt that he’d kept it from you after you’d exposed your true identity right away after you began to grow close.

“I think he was worried that you might see him differently. There is more to his story that he will have to tell you himself.” Nat moves to grab you a plate of food, serving a small amount first to see if you’ll be able to keep it down.

She knows you so well.

When she sits back down, you’re clinging to Steve’s hand harder.

“It only makes me love him more. And worry more.” You sigh.

“As I told him you would. Perhaps that’s also why he hesitated?”

She holds out a fork, fancy with a twisted handle, and you take it. Eating is slow. You’re wary too, in case your sickness should come back and you can’t keep the food down, but you find yourself devouring it instead.

You finish everything, including the crumbs left from your tarts.

Nat watches you proudly. Happy to see you eat so well.

The food makes you feel better and with that need met, you can focus on Steve more easily.

“I will let you rest. If you need me, I will be nearby.” Nat assures you, taking your plate back to its tray and taking the tray with her as she leaves. “Might I ask a favor, your Majesty?”

She turns to look at you from the door as you lay yourself back down beside Steve, eyes glue to his face which as slowly regained a bit of color.

“Of course, Nat. Anything.” You look for her, resting on your elbow as you rub your belly with your other hand, fearful of the pain you’d felt before.

“Will you let him tell you? About being the Captain and why he didn’t tell you? I’d hate to rob him of that when he’s been desperate to tell you but fearful as well.” She genuinely looks worried to have stepped on his toes.

You nod. “Of course. I want to hear it from him anyway.”

Nat smiles and gives you a quick curtsy, then leaves you alone with Steve.

Settling under the thinner blanket you’d left for yourself in favor of wrapping up Steve in the thicker ones to keep him warm, you edge yourself closer to him. Carefully you lift his right arm over your shoulders and settle it over you, nestling into the space beneath his arm. With one hand on your tummy and the other clinging to his blanket, you shut your eyes and listen for the steady beat of his heart.

It sounds strong again and that gives you hope that soon you’ll have your husband back and he can yell at you for neglecting yourself because you’d rather he be angry with you than to have him like this, unmoving, unspeaking, and unconscious.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hot. It’s hot.

Steve is hot. He’s sweating. And he rarely sweats.

He shifts, and a dull pain just beneath his left breast freezes his movement. He groans.

As he makes noise, to his right there is a tremble.

Startled he tries to sit up, pushing through the pain and lifting his right arm as his mind simultaneously catches up with where he is and why he’s hurting. On his right, the trembling thing is you.

You’re curled up, tucked into his side, your body shivering. The fire has gone out and although he is hot, wrapped up in what feels like several thick winter blankets, you are barely covered by one singular much thinner sheet.

Suddenly frenzied, he hurries to extricate himself, kicking and shifting with disregard to his wound.

The movement startles you and Steve stops moving as you spring up and push him down by his shoulders. You can’t overpower him, but he lays still for you.

“Stop. No.” You order him groggily.

Then you shiver.

“You’re cold.” Steve says, his voice surprisingly smooth. He feels as if he’s been sleeping for a while.

“Please desist. You’ll injure yourself.”

“But-“

“Hush!” You nearly yell at him, a look of slight annoyance on your face for a moment.

He goes still, watching as you tuck him back in.

“I’m sweating.” Steve fights, frowning as your skin pimples.

You look up at him and reach out to touch his cheek with the back of your hand.

Steve leans into it on instinct, missing your touch after being away from you for nearly two days.

Your beautiful lips part in a sigh and you loosen his blankets before yanking them back completely. After you gather them at the foot of the bed, you hurry off the bed and race to the fire. Stoking it, Steve hears a hiss and crackle.

You’re visibly shaking, and he hates it.

“Come back to bed. I will stoke the fire.” Steve reasons.

“Steven Rogers, if you get off that bed, I swear…” You threaten, leaving it open for him to interpret.

The worst thing he can think of is that you’ll leave him to sleep alone again. He doesn’t want that. So, he settles back in and watches you struggle with wood and pile it on. It takes you a few minutes of gentle grunts before the fire is filling the room with heat once more.

He smiles as you place the poker back then his heart nearly stops as you gasp with pain. You fall forward slightly, your hand placed on the stone mantel.

Your threats be damned. His wife is in pain?!

Silently he’s beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist as his other takes hold of your hand to support you as he takes you back to bed.

“Why are you out of bed?” You gasp, glaring up at him with an unyielding anxiety.

Steve is sure you see the same expression on his face.

“Are you in pain?” He asks, turning you around to sit you down. “Lay back, here.”

He quickly helps you get your legs up and then pulls one of the larger blankets from his side over to you to wrap you up.

“Is that better?” He checks, tucking your legs in.

“Steve…” You sigh. “Please, please get back in bed. You’re not healed yet. You lost so much blood.”

Steve hates to see that grief in your eyes. He sits beside your hip, reaching up to caress your cheek.

“I’m alright, my love.” He smiles at you, stroking your chin before he leans in towards you.

You pull back, and the gesture is so unfamiliar after two weeks of constant affection, relished touches, tempting kisses…you pull away from him and his heart stutters.

“You cut was deep.” You shake your head. “You can’t be alright.”

Steve’s expression firms, a look of serious contemplation before he reaches down to pull up at the bottom of his shirt. He lifts it until he exposes what is now just a bright red scar. The skin still looks a little thin, but it cannot be reopened.

He watches you reach forward, gentle fingers stroking the shape of the harsh line.

“It will fade by the morning.” He says, and watches as your eyes dance up to meet his.

“How?” You wonder, sounding more curious than terrified which gives him hope that you might still see him as he is.

Steve takes your hand but then thinks better of it and scoots closer, placing his hands on your stomach.

“You’re in pain?” He worries, looking up at you as you lean back against the padded headboard.

He likes that. He likes you relaxed.

“No.” You shake your head.

Frowning at you, he sees a sparkle of that ease that he’s grown used to in the past two weeks. A small curve at the corners of your lips. He’s missed you so much. He wants to kiss you.

He won’t just yet.

“I’m not.” You assure him. “At the moment.”

“Then when?” Steve probes.

“I…Earlier this morning. And just now. I’ve been fine otherwise.” Your sincerity is true, but it also rings with your urging to calm him.

Steve’s frown deepens. He looks down at your belly and shakes his head. “Is this my fault?”

“No!” You deny it, though he knows it’s true.

“I shouldn’t have gone.” He sighs. “I should have sent Bucky and Sam. I’m hurting you.”

“Steve, no.” You assert, stern. “You’re not hurting me. Don’t say that.”

“Well, I’m sending for the old woman.” Steve moves to get up but you quickly grab hold of his sleeves and you pull him back down onto the bed.

He doesn’t dare pull away from your gentle grip.

“She’s already been sent for.” You promise him and he can see that you’re not lying.

“Tell me what you need.” He renews one hand to your tummy while the other reaches for your bicep to caress your arm.

You seem to consider your options for a bit before you reach down to your left to untuck your legs. You flip the blanket over them exposing the mattress beside you.

“Come keep me warm.” You tell him, and then visibly shiver as the heat from being wrapped up escapes.

Steve springs up and moves around to his side of the bed. He slides in, and you’re already in his arms by the time he settles in.

He wraps you both up with the blanket and feels you nestle into the heat of his chest. Your hands are freezing he notices, and he places his own over them as you settle them against his shoulder and then tuck your head into the crook of his neck.

That cold hand wanders down towards his scarred wound, feeling the puckered skin, still soft from healing. He doesn’t pull away because as cold as your touch is, it’s home.

“I was scared.” You admit, and Steve can hear the fear.

Is it stress? Is that why your stomach hurt? What if he’s hurt the baby by leaving you and coming back to you as he did?

“I’m sorry, my flower.” He sighs. “I did not think about what my turning up as I did would do to your condition. Forgive me.”

You’re so quiet, but you’re still stroking the remnants of his wound. He can feel you press yourself closer.

“Do you really feel better?” You ask him, tilting your head back to look up at him.

“Much.” He nods. “I promise.”

You search his eyes, seeking truth and you find it. You smile up at him, filling his heart with light and he leans down to kiss your lips because you’re his and you’re in his arms again. He’d fought hard to get back home to you.

Both of you.

His hand finds its way back to your stomach as you pull back and rest your head against his chest again.

“Your heart sounds stronger.” You observe, and Steve feels worse.

“How long was I unconscious?” He wonders, worried about the amount of stress he’s had you under for it to bring you pain.

You don’t answer at first and Steve can sense your hesitation.

“Y/N?” He urges you.

“Three days.” You swallow hard.

“Shit.” He doesn’t mean to swear in front of you, but whereas Maggie might have chastised him for his cursing, you look up at him again, just watching.

“I stitched you up and when the doctor arrived, he cleansed your wounds and finished sealing them. Then I washed you and Peter helped me lay you in bed. I kept you warm and the fire hot. I fed you soup…when you were awake enough to take it, which wasn’t often. I laid with you and cleansed your wound and…I couldn’t sleep.” You shake your head, ashamed of yourself it looks like to Steve.

You place your hand over his and he frowns at the way you caress it but also the upset on your expression.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. “To both you and our little one. I should have taken better care of myself while I nursed you, but I was so terrified for you. You were so pale, and you lost so much blood. And we only just grew close. To lose you now-?”

“You won’t lose me.” Steve cuts you off, deterring those thoughts as soon as they begin to form.

“Bucky said I should not worry. He assured me that you have recovered from worse…but Sam and I were worried.” Steve laments the sigh that parts your lips, the relief that’s flooding your person that he can hear in the tone of your voice, it makes him regret leaving you laying here.

You’d been a vision. Naked, perfect, with silk sheets wrapped around your sticky body. And he’d left you voluntarily only to return to you to sleep for three days as his body healed.

The fear you must have felt…

“I’m so sorry, my flower.” His arms feel right with you in them. He squeezes you lightly, enjoying the feel of you cuddled against his chest.

Every curve of your body is magnificent, and his hands explore it with agony at the thought of you in distress.

You smell so good, peonies with a hint of that sweat smell he’d grown to love as he’d ravished your body the past two weeks.

Your still frozen fingers tracing the shape of his scar, etching luscious patterns against his heated skin.

It begins to slow, but your touch is invigorating, and he’s missed you…and your body. He wants to see you and hold you, kiss you.

“Y/N…” He whispers, pressing his lips to the top of your head before turning to look down and meet your eyes as your hand stops moving against his side.

The world seems to stop, all of time means nothing as he watches the tension leave your face, your lips part, your eyes are completely shut, and sleep takes you.

Your breathing grows heavy and as your body grows slack in his arms, he tightens his hold even more to hold you up against him. You whimper but then you nuzzle his chest and lay still.

With his heart soaring, Steve lays himself back down. He supports you until both of you are settled against your mess of pillows then lets your body’s weight fall on him and the mattress itself.

You relax. You sleep. Steve cherishes this moment and watches you until sleep takes him once more.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Where are we going?” Your heart is in a frantic pitter patter.

When you woke up this morning, Steve was gone.

You’d scrambled up from your bed, frantically throwing your luxurious woolen robe on, and bolted for the door.

It had opened as you reached it to find Steve holding a tray of delicious breads and jams. Specifically made for you to suit your most recent cravings.

He’d smiled down at you, amused by the look of your hair and the shock in your eyes as you tumbled against his chest.

He’d wrapped his arm around your waist to catch you and chuckled beautifully as you gasped in surprise.

The two of you had spent the morning sitting in front of the fire, on the floor among a poof of large pillows and a thick bear skin rug.

It was a dream of course, as every day with Steve has been since the moment he decided to accept you as his wife. To love you as you’d always hoped he would.

It was all the more precious after the scared he’d given you, coming home all bloody.

You’d refused to make love to him despite his wandering hands.

“You need to rest.” You’d said.

And Steve had rolled you onto your back and settled over you as your hand traced the shape of his scar, already faded to the same shade of peach as the rest of his skin. Completely healed.

He’d kissed you until your lungs ached and then laid his head on your chest and fell asleep for a few hours more when you didn’t cave to his desire for you.

Now he’s got you by the hand, dragging you from the chilly halls of the cottage out into the expansive frozen gardens behind it.

The ground is covered in a thick blanket of snow, and you’re struggling to walk through it, tugging your red cloak up out of the ice diamond mulch.

“Shall I carry you?” Steve teases you, and you look up to find him grinning at you fondly.

“No.” You frown at him. “Keep your hands to yourself, your Majesty, or I will move into my own room.”

Why won’t he just rest?!

“You should be in bed.” You continue to chastise him. Irked by the amusement on his face.

“I’m all better. I promise. Here, give me your other hand.” He offers it to you and waits until you take hold of them before he pulls you to him swiftly.

He chuckles at the surprise in your expression, but lifts you easily, holding you around your waist until he’s moved to a trodden path and sets you down.

There’s the sound of cobble beneath your feet as you regain your balance.

Steve takes your right arm and wraps it around his left elbow to help support you as he pulls you along down the path.

You’re frowning at him however, staring at him with subdued fury.

He meets your gaze, then throws his head back in laughter.

“I’m alright, my flower. I promise.” He unwraps your arm only to wrap his own around your shoulders and pull you into his side to cuddle you closer. A squeeze of reassurance given. “I’m all better.”

Your mind is struggling to wrap itself around that speedy recovery. The scar already looks months old. Faded, with the skin hardly raised, like the others on his chest. How many of those had been stab wounds?

Pouting, you look forward but don’t pull out of his embrace. He’s still running at a hotter temperature than you are, and in this freeze, it is appreciated.

All of the blooms that you pass, the shrubs, and topiary are covered in a thin layer of ice. The fountain’s water frozen, and the small pavilion that has been set up at the back right corner of the large garden is piled in white from the storm.

The sky is gray, overcast, as more snow threatens to fall. It’s almost assured to come. The cottage will be absolutely buried once again and there will be no leaving for several weeks.

“Where are we going?” You grumble, still a little worried.

“Y/N…” Steve says, his voice so soft that you search for his face instinctively. “Please believe me when I say that I am alright. I understand your concern, but it depresses me to have you upset with me.”

Your mind fogs over. Steve sad?

That’s not what you want.

“I’m sorry, I just…I don’t understand.” You admit, giving in and settle under his arm in a more relaxed gait.

“I know.” Steve nods. “And that’s where I’m taking you. To explain.”

“Explain?” You keep your gaze on him.

“It’s not much further. Are you cold? Should I give you my cloak?” He worries.

“I’m alright.” You assure him.

He moves a little faster, eager to get you out of the cold, probably.

When he begins to slow as the garden splits into a grove of tall frosty pines, you see that he’s been bringing you to what looks like a small shed. The stone is crumbling, and the wood looks rotten.

Steve frowns as he stares at it, stopping only a few feet away from the blackened and splintering door.

“What’s the matter?” You ask, looking from his look of disapproval back to the shed.

“The shack, it’s falling apart.” Steve says. “They should have restored it long ago. We’ll have to tear it down and build a new one.”

You’re still not sure what he disapproves of.

“I was going to take you in, but not in this state. I won’t risk you and our little one. Wait here for me. I’ll only be a moment.” He tells you, then strides towards the shed.

As he swings the door open, the top half comes off the hinge and Steve catches it before it can completely topple.

He grabs the door from the sides and looks back at you, uncertain for bit, until he seems to make up his mind and with minimal effort, he yanks the door away.

There’s a clatter as the hinge falls onto the small cobble step. Steve sets the door to the side of the doorway, and with flushed cheeks, he looks at you once more and the shocked expression you must be wearing.

You knew that Steve was strong but…tearing doors off their hinges?

Perhaps it’s just that old?

He disappears into the dark mouth of the shed and every moment you stand there without him feels colder than the last.

You’re not sure it’s really getting colder or if you just miss his heat or just him in general, but then the wind picks up and whips your cloak around the black and blue velvet gown beneath. The storm must be coming sooner than expected.

“Steve?” You call out, drawing the cloak around yourself tighter.

In response, you hear a strange rumble and a creak. The sound moves closer and closer to the doorway until through it breaks what looks to be a wooden seat sat upon two large wheels at the front and a slightly smaller one at the back.

The seat looks like any other. Older, with navy cushions torn and moth eaten, but just like the chairs that sit around the cottage dining table. The wood of the chair is sturdier than that of the shed because it looks much newer, although, it has been kept in doors so that could only have helped.

You look up at Steve as he stops pushing it a few feet away from you. He stands beside it, one hand on the back, then meets your eyes to read your reaction.

“What’s this?” You ask him, unsure how to behave.

“This is…my past.” Steve explains. “As a boy, I was confined to this chair until around the age of eight. My spine was twisted. My lungs were underdeveloped. My skin had a constant rash. I had the sweating sickness about four times. I couldn’t run or overexert myself, as my heart would beat so fast that it began to hurt. More often than not, I was ill. I think I can remember only a handful of days where I was fine to be out on my own, with Bucky playing games. This chair…was my life.”

You stare at the seat, trying to picture your husband—strong, tall, capable, no sign of ailments at all—as the sick child who rode around this chair. It’s almost impossible.

“What happened?” You ask him, turning to meet his hesitant gaze.

“Just as I turned eight, I caught the sweating sickness again. This time, it came for me. I was almost dead when my mother, in her desperation, sought help from a warlock. A doctor, or so he called himself.

“He gave my mother the truths, that he might be able to save me and make me invulnerable to all future sickness, give me accelerated healing, strength that she could not possibly imagine…but that there was also a chance that I could very well die as my body underwent the process.

“Weak as I was, he assured her that the likelihood of my death was high.” Steve lapses into silence, thinking. About his mother?

“She took the chance.” You tell him, because here he is, standing before you a specimen of perfection.

Steve snaps out of his thought and nods. “Yes. She figured that I could either die of my illness or the next or die anyway but have the chance to rid my body of its weaknesses and live. Clearly it worked.”

“So, when he cured you…?” You begin.

“I became a whole new person. I could run and play. I was able to truly live. As I grew older and I realized that there were things I could do with this gift bestowed upon me, I created the Captain and set out to do what I could to rid my father of the threats to his kingdom. Mainly that meant Hydra.

“Bucky, Margaret, Sharon…they were all within my circle and my closest of friends. Naturally they gravitated towards the same agenda. And through this endeavor of mine, I met others like me. Some were gifted their abilities. Some stumbled upon them. Some were forced into it. But all of us wanted the same thing.

“To fight for those who could not fight for themselves. There were six of us to start with. Your father, the Iron Man.” Steve pauses, thinking this through quickly, calculating the look of intense concentration on your face. “Myself. Bruce, or rather, Doctor Banner, who you met briefly back home.”

“What can Doctor Banner do?” You wonder, remembering the handsome but somewhat reserved man who’d emerged from the council room after your encounter with Sharon.

“Bruce was one of those who accidentally came upon his gift. He was in a foreign country assisting in the research of an abandoned village. There was a flash of green light, and from what he says happened, it appears he stumbled upon a few old traps laid by a witch and he was cursed.

“Whenever he grows angry, he loses control and transforms into what he calls the Hulk. Some who have sighted him in this form have referred to him as the Green Monster.” Steve explains.

“That is Doctor Banner?!” You reply, shocked by this revelation.

Steve only nods. “Then there’s Thor, the God of Thunder.”

“Wait…God of Thunder?!” You gasp.

“Did he not tell you?” Steve’s brow puckers in confusion.

You’d known that Thor was a King but a God? You shake your head.

“Typical.” Steve gripes. “Then there’s Lord Barton, who was a spy before he joined us, and a master archer. Though, he has retired and is living in peace with his wife and children.

“And lastly, there was Natasha.” This seems to be the name that Steve was worried about telling you because he tenses, hand gripping the back of the seat.

“My Nat?!” You clarify. Steve nods. “What-?”

“She was also a spy. Trained from childhood. Conditioned to be a certain way…I don’t feel it’s right for me to tell you her story, but she’s been working hard for many years to pay a debt she feels obligated to pay. She’s a master warrior. I don’t know any other human woman who can fight the way she can.” Steve sounds proud. Protective of Nat.

Does he think you’ll be angry at her or see her differently?

Well, you can’t see her the exact same way. But you see nothing wrong. Just a little shocking.

“S-so the six of you formed a team?” You ask, remembering the word floating around somewhere though you can’t quite remember where you got it.

“The Avengers.” Steve nods. “Sharon and Maggie were not part of that particular group, but they were heavily involved.”

As the wind picks up again, you drift into thought, trying to see these people, these friends as saviors of the world.

Nat…you’ll need to talk to Nat. But first…

“Y/N?” Steve checks, visibly nervous as he shifts from foot to foot, gripping the back of his old chair so tight it’s beginning to crack under his weight.

You meet his storm blue eyes as he searches your own.

Only one thing could matter more than Nat or anything that Steve just told you.

“What does this mean for our baby?” You ask him, reaching down to place your hand over the small hidden bump. “Will he be like you before you were cured…or after?”

Slowly, fear begins to take root in Steve’s eyes. Will your baby be strong? Or will you suffer the same fate as his mother and be forced to choose between the chance of death and certain death for you little one?

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