#One without effects and one with a bit of like that wobble shake thing with it

[skhardwarevers1]

Alright come and get your low quality edit of the month

[idyllwave]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 12 | Jing Yuan

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

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“Good evening, princess.”

Without much time to relax or breathe when Blade left to go to the Emperor, another had entered the infirmary. You recognized him easily. He was the main physician that cared for people here. Luocha.

Bringing up the blankets close to your face as a sort of barrier between you and the man, you nodded to him, “h- hello… are you… that Emperor that that guard had mentioned?”

Luocha chuckled as he came to your bedside, “no, no. I’m a doctor, a healer of sorts. Now, princess, how are you feeling? Is there any pain anywhere?”

Taking a moment to think things over, you were glad that everything was working so well so far. Though, truthfully, you haven’t once talked to Luocha before, so you weren’t sure just how perceptive he was, so the amnesia act must go on.

“A little… mainly in my legs, back, and a dull throb in my head.”

Luocha nodded, “and can you remember anything?”

You shook your head, “I- I can’t,” for more of an effective you tried to think of something sad so your eyes could start watering, and just as the tears started to form Luocha was quick to try to comfort you which was surprising to say the least.

“Don’t cry, princess, we don’t have to talk about your lost memory, alright? Let’s focus on something else.”

You nodded and just as Luocha brought out a small handkerchief, probably to wipe your tears, but before he could hand it to you, the infirmary door opened again, and Blade stepped through… with the Emperor coming in right after.

“Why is she crying,” Blade asked.

Luocha bowed, “I’m afraid it’s my fault, I asked her if she could remember anything, and I guess all the stress has finally gotten to her. My apologies.”

Without a word, Jing Yuan stepped forward and took the handkerchief from Luocha’s hand, and when he walked over to you, you couldn’t deny the fear that strikes through your veins as you scooted away, your back hitting the headboard as Jing Yuan sat on the edge of the bed and reached for you.

But all you could see was the striking arch of his blade swinging down.

However, instead of feeling that cold, electrifying metal glide straight through your body like it was made of paper, you felt a warm, calloused hand gently cup your cheek. The handkerchief cloth then lightly being applied to your dampened skin.

You trembled within his hold as he wiped away your tears. A part of you still disbelieving as he gently cleaned you up. It was such a stark contrast to your other meetings with him.

Once your tears were dried, Jing Yuan tossed the handkerchief back to Luocha, “leave us.”

Bowing almost immediately, Luocha took his leave. Though, Blade hesitated for a moment.

“That goes for you as well, Blade.”

Blade only gave a stiff nod before leaving. Your mind was a bit confused at the interaction. Blade has never done that before. He was always quick to follow Jing Yuan’s orders after all.

When you and Jing Yuan were finally alone, you half expected him to tell you to drop the act, but the words never came. Instead, his steel-like focus was solely on you, and not once were you able to stop your shaking, trembling form because of it.

His hand that was cupping your cheek moved to gently caress your face before he let his palm fall away from you.

“Princess.”

“Y- yes,” your voice wobbled slightly.

“Do you know how I am?”

“The- the Emperor?”

He smiled at your answer, “and my name?”

You shook your head, “no,” that one word was a mere quiet whisper that fell from your lips. This was way different than before. Not once had Jing Yuan ever asked anyone to leave you two alone. There was always a third-party present.

“My name is Jing Yuan.”

You nodded.

“Do you know your name?”

“I don’t… everyone only calls me by that princess title.”

Jing Yuan chuckled softly at your response and told you what your name was, and before he could say anything else, you spoke first even though that same fear still coursed through you.

“Is it true?”

“What is?”

“That- that we’re supposed to be getting married to one another?”

He hummed at that question, “we are, yes. You’re my fiancé, in fact.”

His hands moved down to your own, his fingertips lightly brushing at your knuckles as he tried to coax you to let go of the blanket, and once you did, he let his fingers slip into your palm before intertwining both his and your fingers together.

“I- I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t remember anything much less being your fiancé.”

“That’s alright, I’m sure your memory will come back in time.”

You panicked then, was he really dead set on this marriage then?! You didn’t let your inner turmoil show as you looked at your intertwined hands, “how did we end up together?”

“I met you at your father’s castle. The moment I saw you, I knew you were the one.”

You resisted the urge to pull your hand away from his.

“Did I tell you much about myself? Anything you can remember? I- I mean, if you want to tell me, of course. It’s just- it might help me remember,” you rambled a bit, your nerves quickly acting up, but Jing Yuan was quick to ease you, surprising as it sounds.

“I know that your favorite color is (color), and that you like to eat (favorite food),” he started to list off a few things, each detail surprising you more than before because… he was right on all of them, but you never told him any of this, so how-? How was it that he seemed to know you so well?!

And as your conversation with the Emperor continued, Luocha had returned at some point to prescribe you some sort of pain relief drink that you will need to take every morning and even said that you will be able to go back to your room. Which was a blessing, well, until Luocha left once more, and Jing Yuan stood up as well just as the infirmary door closed.

“Shall we?”

His hand was still intertwined with your own as you nodded. He was probably going to lead you back to your room, much to your relief. However, as you stood up the pain in your legs was way more than you previously thought as you left out a small cry of pain and stumbled forward.

Luckily, Jing Yuan had already caught you before you could fall face first to the floor, and before you could apologize, he had lifted you up causing a gasp to leave your lips as he moved to hold you in a bridal carry. Scrambling in his grasp, you hadn’t noticed that you had wrapped your arms around his neck until you turned your head to look at him, and not realizing that he was looking at you too, your lips had accidentally brushed against his own.

You reacted quickly as you pulled away, “I- I’m so sorry!”

And as you looked at him, it was like it took a moment for your words to register in his head as his eyes seemed to have a far away look in his eyes, but before you could say anything else, he smiled at you.

“You don’t need to apologize for something like that.”

You nodded as he fixed his hold on you and moved to exit the infirmary, and just as you were about to ask him if he wanted you to open the door for him, he had called out to Blade, and just as he did, the door opened. Blade seemingly had been guarding the infirmary this entire time.

“Come along.”

The walk to your room was silent and whatever you did, you just couldn’t get your body to relax within his hold. Your tension not going unnoticed by the Emperor, but luckily he didn’t say anything.

“Here we are.”

Looking towards the door and then back up at Jing Yuan’s face you asked, “do we… not sleep in the same room?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, but he was quick to recover, “before we had agreed not to share a room until after we are married, however, maybe sleeping in the same room will hasten your memories to come back sooner rather than later.”

You were quick to shake your head as you ducked your chin down to avoid eye contact, “n- no, we can- we can wait until we’re married- if- if you still want to marry me.”

Having Blade open your bedroom door, Jing Yuan had walked in with you still in his arms. His steps easily carry you to your bed, but before he set you down, he had leaned into you. His lips pressing softly to your forehead causing you to freeze up again.

“Get some rest, I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning. Your maids will come assist you in getting ready tomorrow,” he said to you as he set you down.

“Al- alright, thank you Emper-,” before you could finish he had stopped you, his thumb pressing firmly against your lips.

“My name.”

Nodding to him, he had brought his hand away, “thank you…. Yuan.”

The shortening of his name seemed to catch him off guard again, but just as before his recovery was as swift as the wind, and he delivered his goodnight to you just as easily before leaving your room.

And once you were finally alone, you flopped back into your mattress. Jing Yuan was acting off, but you knew better. As long as you stayed on your toes and kept at it, you knew that you would be able to make it home.

“Blade.”

“Yes?”

“Has Dan Heng apprehended the maid responsible?”

“He has.”

“Good.”

“Do you want him to take care of her?”

“No, I’ll kill the maid myself.”

taglist pt 1

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbunn @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[theunaveragepsychoticbitch]

Drunker, But Still In Love

[A rewrite of an old fav of mine. Human Barbatos, dirty talk, creampie, multiple orgasms, friends to lovers, drunk sex lol, masturbation, dubious consent since reader's a fair bit more sober, AFAB Barbs, AMAB Reader. Enjoy]

You were no stranger to peering down the necks of empty bottles with Barbatos, hours lost to liquor and smokes as you talked about everything and nothing at all. You'd known him years, knew him like the back of of your hand, so you never thought there'd come a day when he surprises you.

Yet, as he sips from his wine glass, simultaneously reaching for the bottle again, you begin to think the day was finally upon you.

Right before he reaches it, you snatch it out of range, having to catch both the bottle and your jaw when he whines.

Whines. The Barbatos, your Barbatos, whining. Hell must be getting snow right now.

"What...?" You've effectively been rendered speechless.

Setting the glass down, he pouts. Was God okay? Can somebody check on him? How do you call an ambulance for heaven?

"[Name]..." Your name slips from his lips like a snake in the grass, a myriad of emotions fitted into so many little letters. "Pleaseee... Can I have it back?"

Wobbly as he is, he barely manages to lean towards you without nearly tumbling off the couch. You grab his shirt, yanking him to safety only to have his limp form crash into you. You drop the bottle, but luckily, it doesn't break. Unluckily, however, you may not be able to say the same for your friend's nose.

"Barbatos? Are you okay? What is up with you?"

"[Name], please... Just give it back. I won't do it again."

Gods, you are way out of your element here. It only worsens when his fingers, so weak and trembly, grasp your thin T-shirt in a show of drunken strength, the holds leverage for him to lift himself up till he's nose-to-nose with you.

Well, it's definitely not broken, at least.

"Barbatos, I don't know what you're talking about, but I definitely think you've had enough."

"Is it because of the way I look at you?"

You stop, both eyebrows rising in shock before one drops in confusion. He continues, tears beginning to flow and obscure cloudy emerald-green eyes.

"I'm sorry. It's not my fault. I want you so bad and every time you look at me my heart jumps and every time we hold hands I wonder how they'd feel anywhere, everywhere else on my body." He sniffs, his eyebrows scrunch in what is soon revealed to be frustration.

"But you. You never noticed anything. You go on and on, every week, a new lover this, a crazy ex that. You've made your way around every "friend" I've ever seen you have, but you won't so much as kiss me on a dare!"

Ho. Ly. Shit. He was talking about last week, when the two of you once again engaged in the habit of destroying your liver, but with a bit more company. A game of truth or dare had started up, one that got dirty quick. Soon, you'd chosen dare, and the decree had been passed: Kiss Barbatos on the lips.

They didn't ask for tongue, or give a time limit. A simple peck would have sufficed. But as the hopeful green-eyed man turned towards you, he found you shaking your head, waving your hand, laughing like such a thing was utter nonsense.

"No can do, Barbie's my best friend. Nothing more."

Nothing more. Such damning words. He didn't need to fake sick after you said them; his stomach turned with regret and self pity immediately, and he spent the rest of the night home alone, seemingly molded to the bed. Every day with you has felt like hell since then, a quiet, unseen one of his own creation. Yet, he craved your touch more than ever now. It was driving him insane. It drove him here.

"[Name], please. I'm begging you. Let me drown my sorrows. I don't want to love you any more."

Despite the many other revelations tonight, you still somehow had the capacity to be surprised. He loves you. Barbatos, your sweetest, dearest, bestest friend, loves you.

"Barbatos... I, I don't know what to say."

He sniffs again, and instinctively, you cup his face, wiping his tears and searching for a napkin for his nose. You find one, stained with grease from the pizza box, but intact. He blows his nose as you pet his hair, before tossing it to makeshift trash bag you've set up.

"Every time you describe what you do with randoms, I wish it was me."

"Barbie, why don't you slow down and tell me about this when you're sober? This is a lot to take in–"

"I want to 'take in' you." There it was, that pout again, paired with a sassiness you know well. He looks adorable, his eyes nearly closed under the weight of the lids, his face so flushed that with the green hair, there were a number of fruits you could call him. His eyes were still a bit watery, but he wipes them on his own this time, continuing.

"I wanna feel you bad. I want you on top of me, holding my legs however you wish as you split me in two. I wanna be chest-to-chest, your hands on my hips helping me ride you. I want you on every inch of my skin, in the bed, on the wall in the kitchen on the couch. Just fuck me."

His hands roam his own body, roughly palming his chest until his nipples peak through his shirt, his fingers twisting and pinching the peaks as he cries about his fantasies.

"I touch myself to you every night."

Fuck. What an erotic confession. "I stuff myself full looking for the stretch you'd give me, but it's not enough. It's never enough. I can't cum off it, no matter how hard I try and pretend it's you there, fucking me senseless, whispering lusty nonsense in my ear. I can't even do hook ups, because they'll never be you. All I want is you, even if you'll only have me tonight, even if I'm sloppy and drunk and desperate." His voice is frustrated and breathy, his face contorting as the anger at how badly his body needs you meets the pleasure his own fingers give him.

"It's not the same..." He sighs defeatedly, seemingly referring to his own touch compared to how he imagined yours.

Your breath hasn't come in at a steady pace for a while now. His monologue was a summoned imagery of a long list of filthy acts done with you in mind, the confession of lust like something you'd read about in a book. He was stripping himself, his shirt tossed to the floor, his pants bunched around his thighs as his pussy, covered by only a tuft of green hair, was spread wide by his own fingers. Right where you could see it.

Already he was sopping wet, clear arousal dripping onto the couch as the lewd squish of his fingers entering his hole met your ears. Somehow, he'd gotten even redder, and now the blush had spread down his neck and chest, reaching for his navel.

"[Nameeeee]." He called, nuzzling into your chest.

"Don't you want to feel me too? I promise I feel good. I'll make you feel so good. You'll never need anyone else ever again. I promise. Fuck me, Hon."

The calm, collected, and careful Barbatos was no more. In his place, a desperate slut who needed your cock to save his life. You've never treated him the way you treated others, out of respect for your friendship. You didn't keep him around for sex, or for partying. He was one of the few genuine connections you had, and more than anything, more than you wanted to touch and taste and feel him, you wanted him to be happy.

You thought that you'd been keeping him happy. But if he'd find the most joy in a night with you, no, a life with you, you'd give him all of yours in a heartbeat.

In a flurry of movement, his back hits the couch. His fingers leave his cunt with a wet pop as you make quick work of his bottoms, spreading his legs wide so you can fit yourself between them.

"Really?" His eyes are wide, a wobbly smile growing on his features. "You'll do it? You'll do me?"

Your eyes narrow as you pull him impossibly closer, your clothed boner resting on his bare cunt. "I'll do anything you want to you, Barbatos. Ask, and you shall receive."

Your voice is deep and raunchy, something blatantly primal coming over you. You were the predator, and he was prey, all too eager to jump into your maw, to feel your teeth pierce skin and muscle and bone as you devour him whole.

How didn't you realize it before? You were the predator, but it was he who was starving.

"I want you to cum inside me. I'll take it all, every drop you give me."

You needed no further persuading. Two sets of hands work to relieve you of your clothes, and then, blessedly, you're skin to skin. Barbatos can feel himself overheating, his heartbeat like a drum in his ears. There's no way this was really happening. In a few moments, you'd put it in, and in his excitement he'd wake himself up, only to be covered in his own cum and drenched in sweat.

Your pants hit the floor, and finally, his savior was freed. Your cock stood proud, a bead of precum on the tip. It was just like he imagined: heavy, with a thick odor that made his mouth water and prominent veins all along the underside. As he stared at it longer, he blushed. It was the exact color he'd imagined too.

You pressed the tip to his entrance, but he stopped you. "Wait! I, um, can I..."

This sudden bout of bashfulness threw you more off guard than anything else he'd done tonight. He takes a second to build his courage before meeting your gaze. "Can I put it in?"

You would have fucked him long ago if you knew it'd be this hot. The perfect mix of shy and slutty, saying such dirty things while looking at you like that.

You don't even respond, simply allow him to straddle your lap, taking your length in hand pressing it back to his entrance. "May I ask one more thing?"

"Anything in the world, Barbatos."

"Will you kiss me?"

'Of course'

You don't say it, rather, you let your actions speak for you. You take him by the cheek, bringing him in for a kiss as he takes you all in one go, the slap of skin as he sits on your dick making you throb.

Twin moans morph and mix in your mouths, passion making you sloppy as he sets an unforgiving pace for himself. Your hands find his hips, but he doesn't need any help, pure instinct carrying him farther than you could ever go.

"Baby, fuck, slow down!" You choke past your gasps, each slam of his hips stealing your breath away. He's gone in the head, his eyes glazed over as the grip on your shoulders gets tighter and tighter, his blunt nails still managing to stab you as he chases the climax he's been denied for months now.

It starts as drunken nonsense between sharp breaths, but soon, he's chanting your name, spewing your praises like a man spared a pain.

"I feel good, right? Tell me you love me. Tell me you'll stay here and fuck me forever baby." If you didn't know any better, you'd say his pupils were little hearts right now.

"Can you feel how bad I need you? Every second you're not inside me is hell, and every second you are is paradise. My pussy has your name on it, forever, till the end of time. Please, fill it up, mark it as yours. Cum inside me baby."

You obey the wicked temptress that'd taken over your (typically far more docile) bestie's body, capturing his hips at the deepest point, ensuring that he feels you in the farthest parts of him. You cum, your mind going blank as he clenches down, squealing from somewhere far away. The hypnotic pulse of his walls as he cums drags your seed deeper, your dick being hugged so tightly his cunt would surely remember the shape.

You release him, and to your horror, he's up again, slamming his body back down onto your sensitive cock. The sounds you make are raw and filter-less, the sweet pain of overstimulation making you shake. Barbatos is in no better shape; he's too sensitive to maintain the pace he had before, but too greedy to come to a stop. He wants you, more of you, all of you.

Through your daze, you hear him, feel fat tear droplets begin to pepper your abdomen. "No, no, nooo.... Not yet... I'm not ready yet." His sobs are so sweet, so innocent compared to the greedy, leaky cunt the words stemmed from. Even as he cried, he rode you, his pussy bright red from the self-inflicted beating.

Fuck. How the hell did he manage to hide this from you for so long? How the hell did you not notice?!

A bout of Herculean strength switches your positions, his back once again landing on the couch. You don't give him time to breathe, ravaging his remains like the starved man you are. He wanted you to mark him, to make him yours, and you'd do so.

His screams were music to your ears, pleas for mercy and more blending until they were mere babbles. His nails raked down your back, clawed at whatever they could find as his walls spasmed, the stimulation just too much for one man. You cup his neck, pulling him into your lap and capturing him in a kiss as you begin to bounce him, using his body weight against him. Your other hand releases his waist, leaving his two trembling arms to support his wait as you begin another attack on his clit.

As expected, he crumbles. Three quick circles and he's convulsing, his arms failing him as he collapses partially onto the chair arm, partially into your lap. Once again, the pull of his pussy as he cums is too much for you, and you fill him up again, the feeling of your own cum leaking out of him, dripping down your shaft onto the ruined chair below almost enough to entice you into another round.

Poor Barbatos. He's half conscious, babbling thank you's. You rest your head on his shoulder, tuning him out until you had enough strength to pull out.

It took a while, but you did. His walls fluttered awake, clenching weakly as though they truly couldn't bare to see you go. You escape rather reluctantly, and find Barbs dead sleep. You carry him to the bedroom, falling into bed and only stay awake long enough to cover him with blankets

When you awaken, he's covered you too. His face is blushed already, thoughts of last night, the way he acted, and your response having played in his mind for hours before you opened your eyes. Seeing you in bed the next day made it real in a way the dull throb of his pussy couldn't. It really was you.

"I wanted to apologize for-"

"Sheesh, man, can I get a good morning first?"

You pull him into your arms, amused by the stark contrast to the side you saw last night. "We can talk about everything later. Much, much later. Like, tomorrow, later. Until then, just rest. There's no way you're fully recovered already."

He wasn't. In fact, his head still beat with a hellish hangover, not aided by his own massive mortification. But, he couldn't sleep quite yet.

"[Name], just, let me say this one thing."

You give him your full attention, your eyes locked on his. "I... I meant everything I said last night. I really don't want you to think I just wanted sex, I really do..."

"Love you."

You smile, dragging him into a kiss as bubbles float around your soul. "I never doubted you for a second, Barbie. I love you too."

His joy is palpable, raw and genuine. He kisses you this time, and for the rest of the morning, no one else matters.

-----

Eek! Did you enjoy ? I wanted the story to make more sense, the sex to feel more rewarding. Like yeah in the og he's drunk n horny and that's fun, but like, he's drunk and the love of his life is right next to him without a clue. He'd be horny AND sad, fs. And I feel it's more in character for Barbatos to be a sad drunk. TN is horny and desperate sober

[carry-the-sky]

go spin the wheel, see where it lands—

Here's the thing about time: it's always running out. He felt it even as a kid, this urgency moving through him, around him. Always just ahead. He'd catch up, if everything else would just slow the hell down. But there are rules, and rule number one is that time tends to be, well, linear. Directional. Things get a bit messy when it's not.

Four seconds. That was rule number two, and the consequences for breaking it are— bad. To put it lightly.

He doesn't exactly have a choice. Or, he does, but if it's between breaking the rules or not, watching everything he loves get ripped away or digging in, claws first— well. He knows a thing or two about fighting dirty.

So, no, it's not a choice. It's immutable, like gravity. Time. A strict progression from cause to effect.

Ekko breaks rule number two.

And the line becomes a circle.

.

He thinks it's a dream, the first time. What else would it be? She fell. She's gone.

She's here now, though. Whole and happy and here, running a hand through her chopped-short hair. That single streak of magenta hits him where it hurts, square in his chest. You can't feel pain in a dream, can you?

"You're back," she says, without looking up. She's lying on her stomach, sketchbook open, a whirling kaleidoscope of color on the page in front of her. "Took you long enough."

"Was I gone?" Ekko says.

She actually laughs at that, the sound filling up his ears, warm and bright. "Benzo was starting to worry, not that he'd ever admit it. Big ol' softie." Her hand flashes, chalk sticks arcing across the page. "You seem to have that effect on people."

He shakes his head. "I don't. I'm not—"

She scribbles faster, fingers stained pink and blue and every shade in between. "You know, for a smart guy, you're kinda dumb."

"Ouch."

"I still like you, though."

This is a nice dream. Maybe the only nice dream he'll have again.

"I miss you," he says, dredging the words up from some sunless space inside him. "I didn't tell you before."

Her hand slows to a stop. From where he's standing, Ekko can only see a few snatches of detail on the page; a fuchsia smile, twin blue braids.

"I'm right here, buster," she says, not looking up. Grinning softly at her hands. "Never left, actually."

The circle wobbles, shifts out of focus. Time and space folding in on each other like paper cranes.

When he blinks, Powder is gone.

.

Too late. It's always, always too late.

.

"It's you," she says, the next time.

They're somewhere green, somewhere he's never been. A part of the Undercity that doesn't exist where he's from, that never existed.

"Uh." He blinks against the sun. "It's me, yeah."

"Seriously?" Beside him on the lawn, she pops up on an elbow, scrutinizing him. "You still don't get what's happening? Sheesh, hopping dimensions really does do a number on the noggin."

Okay, this is a weird dream. Still, as long as he keeps her talking, as long as he has sun on his skin and grass beneath him, he doesn't really care. He'll take weird. He'll take whatever he can get.

"Noggin, right," he laughs. "Synapses. Drunk slugs."

Powder scrunches up her nose like she's trying not to laugh. "Alright, I give. If you wanna dance around the giant elephant in the room, be my guest." She turns her head into her arm, a shield from the sun. Between them, their hands brush in the grass, pinky fingers tangling together. "Next time, though."

Ekko hums, content. More than that— happy. Overflowing with it. Then he frowns. "Wait. Next time?"

Paper cranes, folding in and in and in.

"Dummy," he thinks he hears her say before she disappears.

.

"So when you said 'hopping dimensions', you meant—"

"Yeah."

"And that means—"

"Yeah."

Ekko spins in a circle, arms thrown out wide. "But— how? All of this, the lab, the tech— it shouldn't exist here. Heimerdinger made sure—"

"Hey, you're the genius," Powder says. "I just live here."

Four seconds. He lets it sink in for four seconds—she's whole, she's happy, she's here, at least in this tiny pocket of space and time—before he's crossing the space between them and pulling her into a bruising hug. Her breath puffs out in mild surprise, and then she's hugging him back, arms cinching tight around him. I won't forget this. But he's already started to. He drops his head to her shoulder, breathing her in, every tiny detail. He won't make the same mistake twice.

Her eyes are wet when they untangle. Ekko swipes at his cheek to find that his are, too.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry. I thought I saved you, but it wasn't— I wasn't—"

"Don't," she says fiercely. "Don't do that. Not with me, not here. I meant what I said, okay? You're a good one, Ekko. You don't give up on people. If I'm— if the other me is— then there was nothing you could've done to change it. That was always gonna be how the story ended."

The tears are a river, streaming salt down the slope of his nose and into his mouth. "I was too slow. I'm always too damn slow."

Powder's hands are on his face, her lips kissing the salt from his cheeks, his eyelids. "The boy savior," she murmurs. "It's not your job to save everyone, you know. But I love you for trying."

She's fading, or maybe he is. Time and space, a never-ending anomaly. But there are constants, too, things that keep the universe spinning. Rules worth breaking.

He feels it, this time. It's like someone's scooping out his insides, rearranging his atoms. Like he's being wiped clean, unmade. Hollowed out so that some other him can be stuffed into his skin. Four seconds is all it takes, or maybe four million.

I love you. I love you, too.

.

He tells her for real, when he sees her again.

"I know," she says, elbowing him in the ribs. Her cheeks are dusky-pink. "Following my lead, huh?"

He looks at her, really looks. Every detail; the dainty point of her chin and the dusting of freckles across her nose and her eyes, big and bright and blue.

"Always," he says.

.

Time and space. Paper cranes, folding and unfolding, creasing the lines of reality. Some rules can't be broken, but they can bend a little.

Here's one: when you die, you stay dead.

.

He must be dreaming. She's standing right in front of him, in this dimension, on this plane of existence, real and whole and here. Her hair is still short, all of it blue.

Four seconds. He holds his breath for four seconds, and then: "Jinx."

"Hey, buster," she says.

[the-spiderdude]

Hello!! This is just a little bit of the beginning chapter of my comic book I’ve been working on for a while. What better place to put it then tumblr?

TW TALKS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, ABUSE, AND RAPE. VIEW DISCRETION IS ADVISE

(Don’t mind spelling errors and grammar. This is a rough draft. Facts and lore is subjective to change.)

Enjoy!

—————

One thing people don’t talk about often is the effects being abused does to someone, especially someone young like Nick. One of his first memories is watching his stepfather push his mother into a wall with both hands wrapped around her throat.

“Don’t worry pumpkin,” his mother whispered softly to him later that night. Brushing his long unruly hair out of his face. His eyes didn’t look convinced, but after all he was just mirroring his mother. “This is something that adults do sometimes. He loves us, he wouldn’t hurt us.”

His eyes darted to her neck, the bruises were faint, but he knew they’d be worse the next day. She placed a kiss on his head before walking to his bedroom door, “Te amo mi niño precioso.”

And to think, that’s been every other night of his life for the majority of his short 9 years on this rock. Now, because of everything, he has an odd sixth sense, like being able to hear his stepfather’s truck kick into gear as he turns down their block. Nick was trying to finish his homework when he felt the shiver slowly creep up his spine.

‘Deep breaths,’ he mumbled to himself as he shakily finished the math equation. There was a muffled slam of a car door shortly before the door swung open letting the roar of the rain be heard at its fullest. Nick’s throat instantly tightened and his knees started to wobble in his seats. ‘Deep breaths.’

The sound of muffled voices get louder and louder till it sounds like his parents were fighting in his ears. Each crash and thud gave Nick a small heartattack, the last time things got physical Nick had to take care of his mother for a few days. Not only could she not see with her black eye but she was barely able to move her wrists, tho, she still managed to ease Nick enough he could feed her without his hands shaking the food off the utensils.

“I don’t care what you have to say bitch! I just got off work! Grab me a beer you dumb twat.” His stepfather’s voice boomed and Nick shrunk in his own seat.

“Yes dear.” Nick’s mom, Teresa’s voice was soft but somehow, Nick could still hear it. There was silence except for the occasional shuffle of things. Nick’s ears were perked up. Waiting.

One thing to know about Nick is he adores his mother. Nick’s biological father passed shortly after Nick was born and for a brief period, Teresa was all the young boy knew. They didn’t have much, but they had each other and that was more than enough.

The two used to spend the weekends making forts with Christmas lights after star gazing at a small park down the street. Now, with Nick’s stepfather in the picture they couldn’t do much. He liked a clean house and Nick was convinced he hated the sound of fun. For one time, he laughed too loud at his cartoon and was met with a swift hand across his soft face.

That was also the one and only time his stepfather put hands on him, for Teresa was around the corner before his hand came to a rest at his side. Her eyes glistened with a furry that Nick had only seen in comic books.

There was a loud crash that broke Nick’s breathing exercise, he shot up so high he almost hung off the ceiling like an animated cat. “Jesus Christ Teresa! You clumsy bitch, can’t do anything.”

Nick could hear his sorry excuse of a father figure peel himself off the fake leather couch, each step he took shook the house and brought Nick’s lunch closer to coming out. There was bangs, thuds, and clanks, but Nick unfortunately knew the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting a jaw and a body hitting the floor.

Nick’s body reacted without the young boy thinking, he stood and crept to his door. Opening it just a crack. And as if he opened Pandora’s Box, the full horrors came to him.

His stepfather reeked of alcohol already, Nick could almost taste it on his tongue. One of the lamps that stood tall was calloused on the floor flickering, giving the terrifying scene a more eerie atmosphere. You could see a shadow in the kitchen looming over something. No, not something, someone. Nick’s mother.

“God, you’re so fucking pathetic.” The ‘man of the house’s’ voice was slurred but still sharp. Nick could make out from the shadow that he took another drink of something. Perhaps the beer Teresa grabbed to make up for the one she dropped just a moment earlier. “Can’t do anything right. Why did I even marry your sorry ass?! My family was right. A woman with a son like yours is just bad news.”

There was a sound of metal, before the belt left the loops oh his jeans; Nick already knew what was going to happen. It’s happened before. When it does… Teresa becomes a shell of herself for a week. Sometimes longer.

Nothing will be worse than the first time it happened. Nick can still hear the muffled screams and sobs that drowned out the creeks of the old bed frame in the master bedroom.

That’s why Nick knew what he needed to do.

Nick tip toed to his parent’s room and into their closet under all their dirty clothes. His step father forced him to learn how to handle a gun, mainly so Nick could clean it since Teresa bluntly refused to. She made sure to hide the bullets so Nick never handled a loaded gun, but he found them on accident after his mom told him to hide in their closet during a particularly bad night. He shakily placed a bullet into the clip.

‘I’m just going to scare him. Just to scare him. Maybe I’ll shoot at his feet. Show him I mean business.’ Nick thought to himself as sweat ran down his face, hooking into his nose. He wiped it away before standing. He let out a shallow breath before entering the hallway again.

From the sounds and shadows, he could see his mother kicking that evil man. Her soft cries could barely be heard over his laughter; thankfully for Nick, the soft sound of him approaching was also muffled out.

The sight the young boy walked up to was enough to stop him from trembling. His stepfather’s pants were wrapped around his ankles, thankfully his torn boxers didn’t make it that far. Teresa’s dress rode up a bit to see her underwear, but Nick looked away to preserve what’s left of his mother’s dignity. Nick rose the gun like he’d done at the shooting range and cleared his throat.

“Get away from her.” Nick’s voice was shakier then he thought it would be, but he also said it louder then intended. And just like that, time stood still for what felt like years.

His stepfather stopped laughing and Teresa wasn’t making any sounds as her tears rolled down her face. The evil man turned towards the young boy slowly, his smile not fading as something new ignited in his eyes.

“Oh little Nicky boy,” he growled, taking a step towards him. Nick faltered and brought the gun down slightly, this gave the Devil in the kitchen the confidence to take another step towards the small boy. Nick saw and held the gun straighter, the man mockingly raised his hands. “What are you going to do?”

Nick’s tongue suddenly felt heavy in his mouth. His eyebrows knitted tighter together as he mustered his courage again. “W-whatever I need to do.”

His stepfather didn’t seem to like that answer, his arms dropped to his side and his smile faded. He slowly pulled his pants back up before picking up his belt. The man’s knuckles turned white from how hard he grasped the belt, Teresa started to get on her hands and knees. Anything to save her little boy.

Teresa was about to jump on him when the man lunged at Nick. His eyes practically glowing red as he wound led his arm back. Nick, with his arms thinner then a chair leg and who’s 9th birthday cake is still in the fridge, closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

There was a moment of silence before a body hit the floor, when Nick opened his eyes all he saw was his mother’s worried face. It looked as if she aged 20 years in just 2 minutes. Her slender hands gripped his small shoulders tightly, almost hard enough to leave a mark, but Nick’s ears were ringing to much for him to care.

“Nick! Nick look at me.” Her words were rushed and harsh, but somehow the young boy still found comfort. “You need to get out of here. You need to run as fast as you can. You’ll be okay.”

“M-mom…” he tried to peek over her shoulder, but she grabbed his face and brought him back to her just as he saw the evil man’s hand lay lifeless on the tile. Nick’s eyes started to well up with tears as the weight of the situation finally sat on his weak chest. “Did I-?”

“Nick baby, please listen to me.” The sound of the rain hitting the window was accompanied by the distant sounds of sirens. “You are my whole world, and I love you more than you will ever know. But right now, you need to run, don’t ask me how I know but I know someone is going to find you and take care of you.”

Nick looked at her hard, not knowing what was happening or if he’d see her again. Her big brown eyes looked almost gold as her own eyes started to get glossy; her hair that turned gray, almost white, in recent years framed her face perfectly. “Mom-“

Teresa cut him off yet again, the sirens were getting louder with each passing second and she was scared of what would happen to her baby if he was still here when they arrived. “Nick, you need to go. Now! Grab your coat and go.”

Despite the motherly instinct to hold him closer, Teresa pushed him back just hard enough to get his feet going. She knew he was a smart boy and would do as she says; but she also knows that she is the sum of his universe and wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. That couldn’t be more evident with her dead husband laying on the floor just below her feet.

Nick took one last look at her before grabbing his coat and running towards the back door, he stopped for a second before running back to his room to grab a stuffed bear. One his mother gifted him on his birthday, even tho he knew she couldn’t afford it.

He went back to the back door and swung it open. The cold air hit his nose so hard his eyes stung with tears, the rain hit his cheeks and he finally let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The back door closed as he heard the front door slam open and a body hit the floor for the third time that night.

Nick ran and ran and ran till his feet were screaming at him. He dodged tree roots bursting form the ground and ducked under branches that are trying to reach the soil again. Everything was going by so quick, you would think he was sitting in the car watching the scenery go by. His breathing was rapid and shallow, but he kept running as his mother told him too.

Suddenly, he felt two hands grab his small frame.

And everything went black.

[wanderlustknightofmagic]

The Ringmaster would look back at Rainald for a moment and clicked his tongue before rolling his eyes. "Cease the waterworks you self-destructive Elf. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I am not allowed to interfere to this extent WITHOUT consent from both parties. Even the gods have codes they must follow, your own included." With that, the entity would snap his fingers and Rain was released from the time-magic, though the rest of the world was not.

The knight still had felt the effects though and would wobble for a moment before gripping his head. "W...What-" "YOU!" The Ringmaster would scold, causing Rain to shudder and turn, shocked by the being before him and already feeling quite out-classed... but also... strangely... familiar? He would grip his head again and groan as he felt a headache starting to emerge, though when his eyes glanced over to Valeria, that pain in his chest came back. What's more, he could see that she was upset and connected the two together. He nearly growled. "...What did you to do her...?" He would demand in a cold tone while the Ringmaster rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "Oh come off it Golden Boy. While you have my favor, you're not above my wrath nor are you able to stall what's coming to YOU." Rain would flinch again and look off to the side.

"Tell me. Were you taught love from a distance or are you actually this daft of an individual? Do you think all those pretty little words from those books you read are ACTUAL HUMAN INTERACTIONS or do you have brain cells up in that skull of yours?" The being scoffed while the knight shrank a bit. Walking up close to Rain, the Ringmaster would go over and flick his forehead. "Wake up Rainald. Your life is not a fairytale where everything will go right. Sometimes you can do EVERYTHING right, and things will still turn out poorly. Not all bandits are irredeemable, not all knights are righteous, not all monsters need extermination, and not all of them look like how you would expect. If you love her, TRULY love her. Then you need to TALK with her. What? You assume you run off, she gives chase, you kiss and everything is fine? CAUSE IF THAT'S WHAT YOU THOUGHT THEN YOU TRULY ARE AN IDIOT!" He would snap, causing the mage to flinch again. "That is your girlfriend! The woman you wanted to make your WIFE! Is that how every disagreement is going to go? 'Oh my love! I feel unwanted! Boo hoo hoo!' 'No Rainykins! I do love you! Mwah!' 'I feel better!' Don't be ridiculous. I have seen true, undying, unwavering love and devotion. It's not like your books Rain. You will have nights you go to bed angry with her, it's not staying angry that makes your love stronger. You will have disagreements with how to handle this, it's talking and figuring out the middle ground that establishes the bonds between you. You gave in so easily when she asked you to move out. But that's not what you wanted, isn't it?"

Rainald bit his lower lip, clenching his fist as he stares at the ground and shakes a bit. "...So what... She was unhappy with it... Why should I not-" "BECAUSE YOU LOVE EACH OTHER!" The Ringmaster cut him off and growled. "You should have fought harder for what would have made you BOTH happy! Not just her! What is with this self-sacrificing nature you have?!" The Ringmaster would march up to Rain and grab his face with both hands and lean in close. "Listen to me, listen well, and listen good. You. Have. One. Life. Do not waste it in misery. Stop sacrificing your joy just because you desire peace. Peace must be fought for, stop quitting before you even attempt to put up some resistance for what you want. One night of hardships will always be preferred over months of sadness. Now." He would let go of the knight's face and walk between the two of them. "You both must chose. Are you going to work through this like adults? Or are you going to start over fresh? Will you love endure this? Or will you both choose to try and find each other again?" Then Ringmaster would look to Valeria, and then Rainald. "You must choose. And soon. Or I will choose for you."

Rainald was staring at the ground still, his world a bit shaken. He's not even asked the strange being who he is or what's going on... but... he would look up to Valeria for a moment. He didn't know what to choose.

Just as Rain was about to turn around, everything seemed to stop. If Valeria looked, she could see the tears rushing down his face and the look of anguish that painted his features. His pain was apparent and radiating off of him in waves, though... something had interfered... or rather... someone. A portal would open up right next to her, and out of it stepped... what looked to be a man dressed to be in charge of a circus. He had no visible arms, yet the hands that were near would float as if the limbs were there. There was a heavy sigh that came from this being as he would shake his head.

"Honestly... Are you trying to ensure that he is damaged beyond repair or do you Elves really just have no absolute clue of how the human heart works?" The being would chastise her while he stepped closer, his hands floating over and pulling her away from Rain. "I dunno what kind of love you feel for him, if you ever felt any to begin with, but right now, you just messed up royally. Did you think that praising him would do anything to soften the blow? Your relationship was about to go up in pure flames with that type of line! Forcing himself to love you? Do you know the type of work he has had to put in just to make this work? Do you really think he would do such if he was forcing himself? What you fear is not his love, but that your own cannot compare to it. You're scared he will notice that and leave you, but all you have done is drive him away by letting that fear grip you so. Such cowardice. You face monsters that can remove your insides in a blink, brigands who would violate your body before AND after they killed you, and yet his 'love' is too powerful and makes you scared? Honestly, two hundred years of life and yet you still act like a child," He would sigh and shake his head.

"I am going to do you this one favor. I give you this choice, Valeria. I cannot afford for Rainald to go down this path. I won't let your fear ruin everything... So, you get to pick. You can either try your hardest to fix this mess, and I will reverse time so you can undo that horrendous attempt... or... you both start over your relationship. That's right, all that scary love he feels for you will disappear. But it should be fine right? After all, if he loves you, he should come back to you, and if you were both destined for each other, then you'll both just end up together again anyway. Unless, of course, you mess things up again, or he is able to find someone who is not afraid to love him... but that is a risk you will just have to take hm?" He would offer while the hands went back to the being and looked like they were folding over his chest. "Tick-tock Elf. If you can think of a better solution, I am all ears, but if you don't answer soon, I'm doing what's best for my project, and that means. You will lose him for good."

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

Little SoapGhost hurt/comfort thing inspired by @/crepeycrowleys on TikTok and Guardians of the Galaxy ❤️

Task Force 141 and Los Vaqueros just came back from a successful mission and entered the mess hall. Everyone is kind of tired if not exhausted, but moods are rather positive since the mission went without any complications.

"What you did Ghost was sick, you took out those people like a machine." Gaz murmured, impressed. Ghost only hummed in acknowledgment. Ha was sitting right beside Soap, head hanging low, eyes closed. He looked a little bit out of it.

"Yeah hermano, you are an absolute beast! You should teach us your secrets." Alejandro trowed in, and when passing behind Ghost he briefly laid his hand flat on Ghost's back. Soap could feel him tense beside him so he moved a few inches away from him. Reading his body language as "Don't wanna be touched by anyone right now."

But when he did Ghost tightly gripped his jeans under the table they sat at and he ducked his head lower to the side, away from Soap. No one noticed that his eyes went from closed to tightly shut, skin wrinkled around them.

"If I was on the other side I would be convinced you were a monster, with the effectiveness of yours, Lt." Soap pondered, he was about to take a sip of his coffee when Ghost stood up, almost knocking the boiling hot drink from Sergeant's hand. Some of it spilled on Soap's thighs.

"Ghost! What the fuck?!" He fumed, but Ghost bolted before he could even look at him.

"What was that?" Gaz asked confused.

Soap was pissed that he got burned with his coffee, but the anger didn't last long when he realized that something must have caused that kind of reaction. He looked around and saw lots of glares pointed at their table.

"The fuck you're looking at?" He growled at the recruits standing from the table himself.

Price that sat silent this whole time signed "You should probably go after him Soap."

"Was planning on it, Sir" He headed to the exit, leaving confused Kyle and visibly concerned Price behind.

Soap didn't know what could agitate the Lieutenant so much, but he also knew that whatever it was, made Ghost feel suffocated. If it was anger he wouldn't do something like this, Soap was well aware that the other man managed his anger quite well. Never screaming or bursting out. Ghost's fury was silent it was sadness and being miserable he couldn't deal with.

The search for Ghost didn't last long, Soap knew he will be in one of the empty training rooms, punching a bag like it took something important from him. Soap sat on one of the benches with barbells.

"Leave me alone, Sergeant." Ghost hissed, voice hoarse.

"Talk to me, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing." He punched the bag harder. His hands were bare and Soap saw blood starting to color Ghost's knuckles. He stood up and braced himself against the swinging bag. To his surprise Ghost didn't stop punching it making Soap stumble a little, but he stood his ground.

"JOHNNY FOR FUCK SAKE!" Ghost punched it one last time and stopped. His breathing was erratic and his voice broke mid-sentence.

"Ghost-"

"DO YOU ALL THINK I WANTED TO BE LIKE THIS?! I DIDN'T ASK TO BE BORN!" He screamed, flinging his hands.

Soap stood there, too stunned to speak.

"I DIDN'T ASK TO BE TORTURED AND... and put back together! And now all of you think that I am- I am some kind of an animal!" His voice wavered, hands shaking.

Soap finally reached out a hand to Ghost but he stepped back. "Ghost no one thinks that."

"Gaz called me a machine." Tears pulled in Ghost's eyes, Soap could see it even with the balaclava. It broke Soap's heart. "Alejandro said I am a beast." His voice was wobbly and guttural. He took a deep, unsteady breath, tears flowing freely now. Soaking the material of his mask. "You- you said I was a monster. You of all people said that." It was a whisper between Ghost sobbing and wheezing.

Soap never saw Ghost like that, he never saw anybody cry like that. And it was like needles to his heart because he caused it.

"Oh Simon, we didn't mean that." He reached out his hand again, but Ghost didn't move away this time. When Soap laid his hand on his shoulders he could feel the full-body tremors going through Ghost.

"You said I was stone cold."

Soap slowly raised his free hand to Ghost's cheek, searching his eyes for any kind of disapproval. He wasn't met with one.

"I know, I didn't mean that, I really didn't and I am so sorry for ever saying that. We didn't know, I didn't know and I shouldn't have made those comments." He felt Ghost hiccup under his fingers. "We didn't mean it, Simon. You are an amazing soldier and we all admire that, I am sorry we worded it like this. You are a person and we know it. I know it Si. I owe you my life and I want you to know that I- we would always protect you. Like you protect us. " Soap slowly embraced Ghost, mindful of his body language. He still trembled in his arms but slowly Ghost laid his hands on Soap's back and gripped his t-shirt tightly. Head hidden in the crook of Soap's neck. His breath slowly evened out.

"Don't pull away from me Johnny, please." Ghost's voice was uncharacteristically small and vulnerable.

"I won't. I promise I will never do that. I am so sorry." He rubbed his hands between Ghost's shoulder blades and on his neck. They stayed like this for what could be hours.

So... I hoped you liked it? Kinda the first time doing angst, hurt/comfort.

[allisonlol]

Hihi, can I request for how chuuya,akutagawa and fyodor would react to s/o getting dizzy and lightheaded easily when she stands up maybe too fast. Thank you

a/n: FELT THIS #iron deficiency gang

warnings: descriptions or vertigo, feeling dizzy etc ?? idk if that needs a warning but just in case-

(Chuuya, Fyodor, Aku) With a S/O That gets Dizzy Easily

Chuuya

no matter how many times it happens, he always gets so concerned

whenever he sees you stand up and wobble a bit from being dizzy, he’ll rush over to wrap an arm around your waist so you don’t fall

the first time it happened he almost brought you to the ER and you had to convince him that you’re fine, it’s just a little vertigo from standing up too fast

chuuya will literally SCOLD you whenever you do this 🤨

shakes his head at you...while also holding your hand to keep you steady

on one night in particular, the two of you were at a fancy restaurant on a date when it happened

except this time, chuuya wasn’t fast enough to stop you from falling...resulting in you crashing into the table and spilling the drinks all over yourself

the worst part? the wine stained your formal clothes >:(

chuuya had to self restain from killing all the other people in the restaurant who’d laughed at you,,,it just wasn’t a good time LMAO

still insists you should see a doctor for your condition even if it’s just something minor

you wave him off everytime tho

good thing you’ll always have your boyfriend around to sit next to you and help you up so you don’t collapse

plus this means he gets to touch you more...

Fyodor

fyodor is anemic so this is something he deals with as well

both of you just be blacking out like a video game cut-screen whenever you try to stand 🧍🏻‍♀️

y’all cling to each other when trying to stand up at the same time LMAO

on a more serious note 

fyodor does get concerned for your safety even though he knows it’s nothing serious

is always there to offer you a hand when you need to stand

you tend to...jump up too quickly which is the reason this happens in the first place 

he finds this very amusing and will smirk whenever you get woozy and wobble on your feet

never lets you fall tho; will always be there to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull you into him for support

probably makes you take iron pills or some shit so you won’t get as dizzy

i have to take iron pills every morning and...they nasty af 

this one day in particular, you came home after spending the day with friends and fyodor could tell something was wrong

turns out you’d fallen in the bar in front of everyone, effectively spilling your drink all over yourself and then slipping on it-

you admit how the other customers had blatantly laughed at you and...fyodor is so angry omg

personally finds and kills every single person who laughed at you (excluding your friends)

the only person allowed to make fun of you is HIM 🙄

Akutagawa

he gets so scared every. damn. time.

the second he sees you swaying slightly after standing, he’s by your side grabbing onto you 

literally yells “ARE YOU OK”

EVERY SINGLE TIME

he’s just very concerned and worries a lot </3

please reassure him that it’s nothing serious

even after you say that, he’ll still insist to always be next to you when you’re going to be doing a lot of fast movements

eheh...

anyways

aku is another one that will force you to take iron pills or drink more water...whatever might help

practically turns into your shadow lmao...that’s how closely he follows you

overprotective aku is cute af tho

keeps a close eye on you in public in case it starts happening there

this also gives him an excuse to hold your hand without having to…yknow…blatantly admit he just wants to hold ur hand

it’s unlikely that you’ll ever end up actually collapsing from it with aku around

he can immediately sense when you’re feeling lightheaded and will put an arm around you or give you something to drink so u feel better 🥺

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

Adding to the Jurdan date thing. Cardan totally holds Jude's hands while they skate. Like Jude is shaking trying not to fall in the middle of the rink and Cardan is just patiently holding her hands

gvskdjdks cuteness overload x10000!! 🥺😭❤️ okay but fleshing out this ice skating date hc with this precious suggestion (and more) cos ice skating is actually my fav date activity and it deserves its own post.

Rating: T

CW: fluff, potentially cavity inducing

My Fic Masterlist  |  Theories and Analysis

Cold Hands (Warm Hearts) | Jurdan Date HC

ice skating is a favourite pastime for Elfhame's most high royal couple.

Cardan first finds himself intrigued by the concept of ice skating after watching Yuri on Ice with Jude and Vivi. the combination of music, dance, a dramatic sense of fashion, and the small thrill of balancing on what are effectively knives on a slippery surface give him all the incentive he needs.

he implores Jude to try it with him.

cos, ya know... she likes knives and all.

Jude, on the other hand, only agrees to go because it'll be either 1) a fun thing they can learn together, or 2) hilarious to watch Cardan bust his ass on the ice.

(lbr she secretly hopes for #2)

but to her dismay, she couldn't have been more wrong.

they mostly go to the indoor rink in the mortal world at the beginning because the rink provides patrons with skates.

as it turns out, Cardan is naturally good at ice skating. eerily good, in fact.

he's light on his feet, like a snowflake whirling on a winter's squall, but still driven as an arrow shot forth from a bow.

Jude is, woefully, the exact opposite of that.

the High King attributes his talent to his "honed skill set", and when Jude asks what the hell that means (while clinging to the wall of the rink, disgruntled and trying not to bust her ass on the ice), he responds:

it requires a grace only years of dancing completely “shit-faced” at revels could've given him.

Jude laughs, not only at the mortal turn-of-phrase for “drunk” (which sounds weird coming off of Cardan's courtly tongue), but also because he's utterly right.

ice skating, to Jude, feels precisely like being shit-faced at a party, but without the brain fuzz or maudlin displays. 

(and the music is a bit different, too, she supposes)

but all of this is perhaps worse because she’s not drunk. 

at least when she's drunk she's not exactly aware of how foolish she looks. or if she is aware of it, she no longer possesses the inhibition to care.

and Jude tries not to care now. though, scrabbling along a plastic wall just to stay vertical when you're completely sober is a humbling affair, to say the least.

it's certainly a far cry from sitting atop a gilded throne in Faerie.

but maybe ice skating isn't actually so different from Faerie, after all.

there are loads of people infinitely more graceful and elegant than herself, swirling around her like existing on ice is the easiest thing in the world. like their feet have sprouted wings.

(she does know a few faeries with that particular attribute, actually)

so Jude is used to others soaring where she is lacking. that's practically the story of her life.

but it's been so long since she began anything. if she's not a master, she is normally at least competent at any task posed to her.

the High Queen has forgotten the vulnerable discomfort of being new. how newness fits about as well as a stiff leather boot worn directly into battle.

it's not all bad, though.

Jude makes a list of things she likes about ice skating in her head to distract herself from the ache in her arms, the wobble in her knees.

there are costumes. so naturally, Cardan insists on wearing one every time they skate, even though he is neither performing nor training to perform.

Cardan's butt in skating pants.

the face Cardan makes while he's skating. it's one Jude rarely sees from him. it's pure joy, radiating. Jude needs to remember to bring a camera next time, so she can capture it.

and that's about all she can think of at the moment.

all the good things about ice skating are really about Cardan and she's okay.

she's fine.

not scared at all.

she could totally let go of the wall if she wanted to.

she just doesn't want to.

so she doesn't.

Cardan always has a marvellous time.

he loves the way Jude looks all bundled up in mortal winter clothes.

her mittens are overlarge and make her hands look like two periwinkle flippers, which Cardan finds endearing. a dark green knit scarf swaddles her neck, and she has on a hat with a pom-pom on top that bobbles every time she moves.

(at the shop, she'd called the pom-pom humiliating and he'd called it adorable and then she'd called him patronising, which he probably deserved for something at some point in their marriage, and it wasn't until he tacked on the "-ly murderous. i love it" that she begrudgingly added it to their basket)

he loves the way the cold air of the arena pinkens Jude's cheeks.

and the way he catches her blowing out a breath every so often, just to see it briefly frost the air.

he loves the way she looks at him when he skates by, like he's the moon come around to greet her again.

and the way her eyes trail him around the rink, even if she can't follow.

he likes the costumes too, because they make him feel more at home in the mortal world than he's used to feeling. 

but he especially likes them for the way Jude ogles his backside when she thinks he's not looking.

doesn’t she know he always is?

after a few laps alone, Cardan invariably skates up to wherever Jude is on the wall, claiming his hands are at risk of frost bite and they'd better do something about it "quick, before they fall off."

she always says, "you should've bought some mittens."

to which he replies, "Yuri never wore mittens," just to make Jude smile and roll her eyes and offer him some form of body heat.

one time, she unbuttoned her coat in response, and Cardan slid his hands underneath the open flaps, around her waist, pulling her to his chest.

then, he had a brilliant idea.

which is usually a fair indicator of a terrible idea where Cardan is concerned.

"keep your feet together, knees bent, and hold on," he told her.

she gave him one panicked look, said, "Cardan don–" before he shoved them away from the wall and out into open ice.

immediately, her arms locked around his middle. she squeezed her eyes shut, hiding her face in the ruffled lapels of his shirt.

Jude was hugging him, which was perhaps his goal all along.

what was definitely not expected was the vicelike grip she had. he felt like the magician's assistant being sawed in half at Oak's last birthday party.

but Cardan took it in stride. maybe she would relax once they got going.

she did not relax.

she allowed him his fun for approximately half a lap before she begged him to bring her back to the wall.

and since Jude begged, Cardan did just that.

another time, Cardan skated up behind Jude, wrapped her in a bear hug, and snaked his hands under the flaps of her coat.

the chill of his hands against her hips made her squeal a little and elbow him in the stomach.

he still managed to plant a kiss on her temple, though.

"do you trust me?" he asked softly against the rounded shell of her ear.

"unfortunately," she said, a little breathless.

he told her to hold onto his arms. keep her feet together. keep her knees bent. she was safe. he had her. she was safe.

then, slowly, he pushed them off the wall and out into the middle of the rink.

it was better this time. Jude was facing forward and could see where they were going and what was coming.

Cardan loved the way her hair smelled, like amber and oud. the way it felt against his cheek as he manoeuvred them across the rink.

Jude must have felt more in control this way, because they skated like this for a few minutes without much objection.

but it was still unwise, because when two teenagers shot by at break-neck speeds, Cardan lost his footing and they ended up in a heap of limbs and laughter on the ice.

which Cardan also loved, mostly because Jude's laugh is loud and contagious and so very rare.

if there was a way to drink laughter, he’d never need another taste of wine again.

most of the time, when Cardan declares frost bite, Jude says, "we can share my mitten if you hold me up."

so they clasp hands inside of one of Jude's too-big periwinkle mittens. it's the perfect size for both of them.

Jude holds onto the wall with her other mittened hand, and they skate carefully around the edge of the rink together for one whole wobbly lap.

then, they switch hands and go the other direction for a second wobbly lap.

his favourite laps are always the ones they skate together.

and Cardan realises much of the good things about ice skating are really about Jude.

but there are a few things he enjoys for himself, too.

he loves the way it feels to glide. it's a little like flying only vastly less terrifying and with far less stakes if you fall.

and secretly, though he'd never say it out loud, he likes that it's something he's better at than Jude (a rare thing to behold).

and secretly, though she'd never say it out loud, Jude likes it because Cardan likes it.

(besides, she knows it's something she can get better at if she practices)

eventually, Cardan decides to buy himself and Jude their own skates to bring back to Elfhame.

and sometimes, if he has the time, he freezes over a lake or pond on Insmire to practice. and sometimes, if she has time, Jude joins him.

and every time Jude joins him, the oddest thing happens.

Cardan finds that his hands grow curiously, remarkably cold.

•••••••

AN: this was just a little wintery HC, I hope y'all enjoyed it! Let me know if you’d like to be part of my tag list, or if you thought you were and I missed you somehow. 

As always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated :’) thanks for the inspiring ask @the-hospitality-of-knives ! ❤️

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[prof-peach]

"You will see the devil if you eat them, can confirm." hello i would like to hear about peach's morelull shroom trip

HA, well ok then, we're going down bad trip lane I see.

Peach being Peach, she's always had a tolerance for poisons, and no one seemed to say wether or not morelull mushrooms were ok for humans to eat or not, so she tested them out, checked them for specific toxins, they came up pretty free from poison, so she saw if things in the wild ate them, and pokemon did, they seemed fine! lots of mons enjoyed them. Even Val ate some and was totally healthy, no side effects. Sooooo she ate one too, just one as a little treat, see what they were like. She regretted the decision, more so for doing it without someone else around to keep an eye on her.

Stage one: audio effects. She was convinced her own thoughts were other peoples talking around her, and kept looking for them around the labs. She locked herself in a closet at one point to escape them, and freaked out when they were in there with her. Could hear very clearly, just about every drip and tap within the area, like REAL loudly. Clock ticking, way worse for her than usual. pipes rattling, sounded like something shaking the building real hard. Just all the audio processing problems.

stage two: Touch troubles, she got REAL touchy-feely, everything felt weird, rough things felt soft, soft stuff felt tingly, plants were weirdly warm when they aren't usually warm at all, there was a point where she was fascinated with a glass of water, the smoothness of the glass itself was painful somehow? like so smooth it hurt? brain couldn't comprehend it, kept trying to pick it up, having to stop, because it felt "sharp".

stage three: Everything started to move, it was pretty cool for a bit, but she had to lie down on the lab floor and pray the feeling of sea-sickness would leave. It did when she focused on the tiny dots on the floor tiles, shuffling around like tiny teeny durants, everywhere, millions of them. That eventually rotate back round to paranoia about being covered in bugs, something she's usually very chill with but the idea of their tiny legs freaked her out during this all.

stage four: Devil. Heart racing, sweats, shakes, lead in the lungs, muscle stiffness, the moving things from before start to feel encroaching, like they're closing in on you. She had to go stand in a field, and even the clouds looked like they were coming down to her level to try and crush her. Pokemon around her were totally confused, she was usually very calm, but the sheer terror of everything around her trying, at least in her mind, to swallow her up so she was gone, got in her head. The ground was wobbling under her, like she was standing on a half inflated bouncy castle, she decided to lie down and hope she didn't have a heart attack, shut her eyes real tight, hope it goes away. It did eventually.

She was left with a bad taste in her mouth, a sickening headache, and the need to sleep for what felt like three days. The shakes eventually stopped, the sweats died down, and she seemed to return to normal after about 12 hours. Its was....a very long day for her. She hasn't touched one of those again since, but does use them in medicine, now aware of their effects, trying to utilise the useful stuff, and reduce the whole 'heart attack' aspect.

[rebrandedbard]

Good morning, I had an idea and I wanted to share (could be a prompt if you want): So, Jaskier definitely, absolutely wants to learn Geralts potions and which to give when. But they aren't labelled at all and you've got to discern by shapes and colours. I firmly believe Jaskier writes a little ditty for that and maybe it spreads or maybe Geralt wakes up after a hunt with vague memories of that song after Jaskier saved him...

Jessi you know exactly what to say to get a fic out of me. Invoke my musicality! Just for you, not one, but two songs Jaskier uses for Geralt's potions!

-

Witcher's Brew

wc - 2476

Geralt wakes up after a hunt gone wrong and finds himself patched up in bed. He waits for Jaskier to arrive and overhears him singing a strange song to himself as he fusses with Geralt's potion supplies.

-

Rabbit stew, warm and fresh from the pot. It was the first thing Geralt could remember upon waking. They’d had rabbit stew at midday, just before the hunt. He almost imagined he could taste it on his dry, cut lip, but the lingering bitter taste of White Raffard’s Decoction chased the last of the memory away. He could not recall taking any potions. In fact, he had trouble remembering what it was he’d been fighting. His head was vague, all the details swirling at the edges in a haze. Someone had been speaking to him, he thought. Was it the chanting of a kitchen maid, timing her baking with a prayer? Or was it a song?

A song.

Geralt sat up with a grunt. “Jaskier,” he called, voice rough and catching in his throat. He looked around the darkness of the room, but he was alone. He scented the air. Jaskier had been near in the last hour or so, his smell not yet faded. It tasted bitter on his tongue, like the decoction: bitter like the musk of fear. The tang of salt hung in the air as well. Tears. But there was more. From the table at his side came an earthy scent and he discovered a bowl of mushrooms upon it. Sewant mushrooms.

That’s right. They’d been in the caves. The vision of the beast rose to the forefront of his mind and he remembered that they’d been fighting not a wyvern as hired, but a slyzard. It had been a deadly miscalculation, for the beast could breathe fire over a great distance. Geralt felt the fresh burns on the back of his neck, smelled the poultice pasted there. He remembered pulling Jaskier behind cover. He’d not had the chance to see whether he’d been burned as well. There had been too much to distract him; he did not even know if he’d slain the beast.

There had been mushrooms in the cave. Someone had to have brought them. Jaskier would be foolish enough to return to the caves, even if the beast still lived. But for mushrooms? Geralt could not imagine why.

“Sewant from the sewer caves, crows’ eyes, fang of beasts; blood from all the nasty things, and myrtle pure as priests.”

Geralt turned to the sound of Jaskier’s singing beyond the door. It cracked open and there the bard stood, arms hidden beneath a mass of white flowers. He had, too, a leather pouch dangling from around his wrist. Unloading his burden upon the table, he flipped through the open bestiary, still singing under his breath. It was not his usual kind of song; it was lifeless, simple rhyme and meter without passion. He did not even glance Geralt’s way as he set to work, grinding ingredients together in a mortar.

“Mistletoe and mutagen, aloe leaf of wolf; green mold, han, and celandine, then in the flame engulf.”

Jaskier poured the concoction into a potion bottle and hurried to the fire. He bent to light it, cursing as the matches failed beneath his shaking hand. He cursed louder, his hand slipping again. His voice began to shake as he continued his chant.

“Remember Raffard’s recipe and count it by this rhyme; be ye neither quick nor slow to measure out the time. Once the brew has bubbled and its color turns to red, let cool and cork then brew again to raise him from—”

Jaskier’s voice caught in his throat as he failed to light the match once more. He gripped the potion bottle in his hand and wiped at his eyes, unable to finish the line. “To raise him—”

“From the dead,” Geralt concluded.

Jaskier whirled around, dropping the bottle upon the floor. It shattered, spilling its contents into the hearth and over his boots. But he didn’t pay it any mind. He ran to Geralt’s side and knelt before the bed. His hands were everywhere at once, prodding gently, examining him.

“Geralt,” he breathed. Then everything came out in one great rush, each new thought interrupting the last. “Oh fuck, I was—! You weren’t moving. You just dropped to the ground the minute your sword—! I had to carry you back, and you only had one vial left. I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to make more before …”

“One vial is enough,” Geralt said. He nodded toward the supplies on the table. “Is that White Raffard’s?” he asked, knowing it could be nothing else.

Jaskier nodded, silent.

“What was that song just now?”

Jaskier bit his lip, looking guilty. “I … didn’t meant to pry,” he murmured. “I promise never to share trade secrets but … I had to know how it was made. It’s one of your most important potions. If you couldn’t make one, and if we were ever in a situation where we couldn’t find a healer, I needed to know that I could save you. So I watched, and I wrote it to remember.”

“You wrote a song to remember how to brew a potion?” Geralt asked. He looked at the ingredients. They were all correct, and well-measured from the look of it. Jaskier had prepared three bottles, two still sat empty on the table. Before them, their ingredients lay in even piles, waiting to be ground in the mortar.

Jaskier took Geralt’s hand in his, pressing his forehead to it. “I can brew Raffard’s, White Honey, and Swallow. I know you need Swallow with Raffard’s, for the toxicity. And … if I ever brewed a faulty potion, I would have the Honey.”

“You know what potions to take,” Geralt said. It was less of a question, more an expression of awe. He’d never taught Jaskier about the potions, merely asking for them as needed if Jaskier were in reach to fetch them. And from that, Jaskier had learned what was needed when.

“I wrote a song for that, too. All of them: what they’re for, the ones to take before a battle, and the ones to take after.”

Geralt blinked.

“All of them?” he asked.

Jaskier looked up. He once more turned his head away in shame. Witchers’ potions were not for men to know, let alone theirs to brew. But he nodded. There was no denying it now.

“Sing it to me.”

The look on Jaskier’s face was nothing short of complete and total astonishment. Geralt never requested songs. “You … right now? You want me to sing the song?” Jaskier faltered.

When Geralt gestured toward the lute, Jaskier smiled.

“It hasn’t got music,” Jaskier said. “It isn’t meant to be sung, really. Not in that way at least.”

“But you could put it to music, I bet.”

Jaskier flushed. There was a bit of praise in there somewhere—an admission of skill. At Geralt’s request, he stood and fetched the lute. “You seem to be doing much better,” he said, sitting at his side on the bed.

“Raffard,” Geralt replied. “Are you in tune?”

Jaskier strummed the lute slowly, emphasizing each open note with pride. “Always am.”

“Sing, then.”

It only took a minute of experimental plucking before Jaskier had a set of chords prepared. He strummed them twice in succession, then began his song:

Before one fights vampiric beasts

Drink Black Blood down to spoil their feasts

And if there’s acid on the rise

First taking Bindweed would be wise

When fighting something swift and cruel

Down Blizzard quick before the duel

And if the brawl takes place at night

Take Cat to see in dimmest light

Geralt watched with open admiration as he listened. Jaskier had learned it all on his own. He’d made a careful study of the potions without any help, and what Geralt heard was thus far correct. There were trainees who’d not kept such simple things in order, even with proper instruction.

When fighting wraiths one cannot spy

De Vries’ Extract evolves the eye

And wolves will howl in perfect tune

When given life by the Full Moon

At the play on wolves, Geralt rolled his eyes. Even so, he was impressed. He’d only encountered two wraiths with Jaskier at his side. He would’ve had to pay very close attention to remember De Vries’ Extract’s purpose.

The bit about the wolves did not escape his notice either. There was a little crook in the corner of Jaskier’s mouth as he sang the words. Of course the potion made for jokes among the witchers of the school of the wolf, but they weren’t the only ones who used them.

But if one’s poisoned first, let’s say

Oriole takes the sting away

And when one bleeds, to stop the aches

A simple Kiss is all it takes

If long the task you must endure

Then take a dose of Maribor

And if one’s signs aren’t up to snuff

Then Petri’s Philter is the stuff

If one cannot avoid a hit

The vengeful Shrike takes care of it

And if you’ve time while under cover

Swallow aids a slow recover

If the battle leaves you tired

Tawny Owl may be required

And while weak one cannot parry

Thunderbolt will make foes wary

When hope is lost and at its end

White Raffard’s revives your friend

And if while brawling stunned you be

Then Willow is the remedy

For power in your every blow

Take Wolf to strike against your foe

And though it makes one wobble blind

With Wolverine their fate is signed

Remember this what else you do

White Gull is base for every brew

And when the potions start to strain

White Honey lets you start again

“You ended with White Honey,” Geralt remarked.

Jaskier lay a hand over the strings of his lute, quieting them. “It lets you start again, does it not? Once you swallow a dose of White Honey, it nullifies the effects of all potions,” he said in his most academic voice. “I thought it would be fitting to end the song there; it certainly helps to remember the purpose.”

“And you know how to brew it.”

“I find it ironic that there’s not a trace of honey in it whatsoever. In fact, far too many of your potions involve the use of vinegar, the very opposite of honey. Would it ruin the potions beyond use if I were to add a bit? A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, they say.”

Geralt smiled. He waved his hand, gesturing for Jaskier to come closer. He put a hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “I think whatever potions you brew for me in the future will be made sweet enough by that sentiment,” he said. “So don’t fuck up my recipes, bard.”

Jaskier stammered, then laughed and batted Geralt’s face. “You cheeky thing! For a moment, I thought you actually intended to compliment me.”

“Didn’t you hear me the first time?” Geralt asked. “I did.”

“Not a compliment if you insult my cooking right after. Or—well, eh—brewing, as it were.”

“Alchemy.”

“Oh, yes, that’s much more flattering. Assistant Alchemist! I do like the sound of it.”

Geralt chuckled. “You’re my assistant now, are you?”

“But of course,” Jaskier replied, waving a dramatic arm in the air. “Always have been. I only needed a proper title.

“Then tell me, assistant: what became of the slyzard?”

Jaskier grinned and leaned over to grab the leather pouch from the table. He tossed it for show and caught it with one hand before emptying its contents. A collection of sharp, bloody teeth fell onto the sheets, some with bits of pink gum still attached to the yellow base.

“I believe Raffard’s called for fang of beasts in the list of ingredients,” he said. “And there was no other beast nearby to take from. Your sword was still lodged in its back; all I had to do was give it one last thrust through the heart.”

Jaskier winked and produced another bag from his doublet, heavy with coin. “Needed proof anyway,” he said, setting it alongside the teeth. “I needed some distraction while you were out, so I checked off the list: put you on the mend, finish the hunt, get the pay, replenish supplies.”

For a moment, his cocky expression faltered. “I was just finishing up when I got a little …” he trailed, bundling up the teeth once more. “Well, it’s easier to get lost in worrisome thoughts when doing quiet tasks like foraging. But you woke up, and now there’s nothing left to fear. I’ll have a new set of potions ready for you by the time you’re well enough to get out of bed.”

“… You … killed the slyzard?” Geralt said.

“You did most of it. I just gave it the last push. It barely twitched. Honestly, its innards made more of a fuss when I went to bottle them. I think you’ll be well stocked for some time.”

Jaskier killed the slyzard. He stooped to rummaging in its bleeding corpse for the most vile and disgusting of ingredients. For his potions. Which Jaskier brewed. Which he knew how to brew by merely observing, putting it all together in simple songs to remember. And still he’d found time to collect his pay.

“Fuck me,” Geralt said in wonder.

“Maybe once you’re healed,” Jaskier laughed, ears a touch pink.

“Then kiss me,” Geralt amended. He lay his hand over Jaskier’s arm, leaning forward, enraptured. It was a simple revelation and he wondered just how long the idea had been bubbling in the back of his brain. “Kiss me,” he said. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Jaskier blinked twice, his cheeks flushing as he took in the seriousness of Geralt’s tone. “Did … you put too much White Gull in that last batch of Raffard’s?”

Geralt shook his head, his eyes never leaving Jaskier’s. “Will you kiss me?” he asked again.

“I …”

“You killed a slyzard for me.”

“Yes.”

“And you memorized my potions. In case I needed them.”

Jaskier nodded.

“You love me,” Geralt concluded. His heart gave a leap at the notion. Yes. Yes, this was something he never knew he wanted. No, not wanted—this was something he needed. If all that didn’t add up to love, he didn’t know what would. It was such a simple thing, and he was a very simple man in every meaning of the word.

“Love me, Jaskier,” he said. “Love me and kiss me, please.”

But Jaskier already did. And before the final plea could escape Geralt’s lips, Jaskier did.

I’m going to take care of you, Geralt thought. He would take care of Jaskier just as Jaskier had always taken care of him. Good care.

“I do love you,” Geralt corrected.

Jaskier chuckled. “Don’t need to think about it?”

“I don’t think I ever really did.”

[darling-i-read-it]

My King

Nikolai Lantsov x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: burns, violence, injuries

Author’s Note: This was so cute omg, I hope you enjoy love!

Requested; by anon, Hi love I absolutely adore your writing and I was wondering if you could request the ‘who did this to you trope’ with Nikolai please Thank you

Summary: the request!

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Nikolai Lantsov, King of Ravka, was the only man in this world that could make you actually visibly flustered. Boy did he love that. He used it to his advantage whenever he could and even managed to make you laugh here and there.

You stood behind him, looking down at his radiant blonde hair. You brushed through it carefully, making sure there were no tangles. He looked at you through the mirror and you pretended not to notice.

“You have to talk more with the suitors today,” you muttered, focused on combing through his hair.

“No I don’t,” he said. “I’ve picked my Queen.” You rolled your eyes. He caught it and couldn’t help but smile softly.

“I can’t be Queen Nikolai.” You met his eyes through the reflection. He looked effortlessly handsome, though he always did. You were always amazed at his stunning looks. Nikolai was a regal man and if nothing else, looked like he was fit to be a King.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because I’m not royal.” You put your hands on his shoulders and leaned down, tilting your head to see him face to face. He met your gaze, that charming look in his eyes. “And you won’t get any prospects from being with me. You won’t get any money. You won’t get any land. You’ll get only me and that is not enough.”

“It’s plenty!” he protested. “I don’t need land or money or prospects. I just need you.” You shook your head and turned around, walking over to his bed. You handed him the clothing that his people had picked out for him to wear.

“No you want me. Ravka needs someone suited for the job.” Nikolai hated when you brought Ravka into this. If he was a low servant boy the two of you would have been married ages ago. He stood and turned around, holding his clothing in his hand.

“I will convince you.”

“No you won’t,” you muttered absentmindedly. “I have to call Genya to get things prepared for next week. You get dressed.”

“I won’t get married to anyone else.”

“We can have an affair on the side, will that make you happy?”

“No. I will not produce a bastard and make our child suffer the way I have,” he grumbled. You met his eyes kindly.

“Who says I want children with you?”

“You can’t keep your hands off me, I’m fairly certain your actions betray your words.” You rolled your eyes and put your hand on his chest as you walked past.

“Get dressed Nikolai. I’ll be with Genya if you need me.”

You left the room and he was left alone with his mind and his clothes. He stared at the door for a second, shaking his head. He knew that you were right. He knew that you understood this situation better than most. But he also knew that as long as you were alive, he could never love another person. He didn’t want to and he didn’t need to. You would make a wonderful Queen.

He would convince you one day, he was sure of it.

====

Genya held a clipboard in her hand. You wondered briefly if she had different colors to match what she wanted to go for that day. You almost never saw her without some sort of planning ability.

“I wish you would just marry him, save us all the trouble,” Genya said softly. You rolled your eyes.

“Trust me, if I could I would.”

“You’re completely able. You aren’t repulsed by him like some of the women coming. You aren’t his cousin, you aren’t underage. You’re both in love and that should be enough.”

“It’s enough for him. Not enough for Ravka.” You let out a small sigh and was about to say something else when a guard entered the room. You raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t announced himself or anything which was unusual. You are one of the closest to the King and usually was shown that respect. But this man looked very worried.

“There’s a Grisha at the gates, demanding to come in.”

“Do you know who it is?” you asked. He shook his head. You pursed your lips and spared Genya a glance. You were a very talented Heartrender and could use your power for defense if necessary. “What kind of Grisha?”

“Inferni.” You let out a soft sigh. That wasn’t great news.

“Should I find Zoya?” Genya asked. You shook your head.

“Zoya isn’t in Ravka.” She was out with Nina, hopelessly spying on others. She had protested quite often but you made her go. She could do good out there and could come back to lead her post later. You turned to the guard. “Come.”

===

You didn’t bother stopping to tell Nikolai. You could handle this yourself, you were sure. It was one Grisha. You had fought plenty before. You could handle one Inferni. You did wish you hadn’t told Zoya to go though. She was much more powerful than you.

You reached the gates and saw the fire immediately. Your few Tidemakers were doing their best to battle the flames but the Inferni looked skilled. You wondered if they were a member of the Second Army before the war.

You saw him standing at the edge of the gates.

“Let me see the King!” he yelled at the guards, shooting flames aimlessly. You focused, slowing his heart rate at your will. He looked frightened as he realized what was happening to him. You approached cautiously.

“The King is busy today,” you said. He clutched his chest. “Can I help you?”

“I want…” he breathed heavily, “to kill the King.” You shook your head.

“That isn’t going to happen today.” He looked up at you and before you knew it he had shot a ball of fire in your direction. It knocked you down, causing you to lose your focus. Pain flew to your limbs as you put the fire out. You raised your hand to him and crippled him down to his knees more harshly this time. You took the air from his lungs, your own body singed and smoking as you did so. You guestered to a Tidemaker and some guards. “Take him.”

They did as they were told, dragging him to the dungeon. He gasped for air until he was out of your sight.

You sat in the courtyard for a moment, reveling in your pain. No one approached you for a moment, unsure if you were able to stand on your own or not. You wobbled to your feet and guestered to a guard.

“Send for Genya Safin.”

“Should I get the King?” the guard asked.

“Saints no,” you breathed.

You walked back inside the castle and soon enough saw Genya rushing towards you. Her eyes went wide in horror.

“Why didn’t you ask for a Healer?” she exclaimed.

“I wanted you to take me there,” you breathed, laughing gently. She held you up and started to walk towards the nearest Healer when you saw Nikolai coming down the stairs, a guard trailing after him. He ran up to you, putting his arms around your waist and holding you up. Genya let you go into his grasp. Your eyes narrowed on the guard. “You disobeyed me.”

“He insisted on knowing whenever you were hurt,” the guard said quietly. You shook your head.

“Who did this to you?” Nikolai almost growled. You tried not to think of the monster inside him as he spoke in an animalistic tone.

“Inferni at the gates.”

“You should have called for help.”

“I can handle myself.” He turned to Genya.

“Take her to the Healers, I’m going to see this Inferni.” You gave him a look as he put you back into her care.

“Nikolai don’t do anything stupid unprotected,” you muttered, wincing in pain.

“He’ll get what's coming to him,” Nikolai muttered as he walked away from you.

====

The Healers tended to your wounds quickly and were able to avoid having any serious burns. You had gotten lucky. Nikolai was right though, you should have sent for help. You rested in your room, bandages over your various injuries.

The door opened without a knock which meant it was no one but Nikolai. You looked over at him.

“What did you do?” you asked evenly. He quickly sat at your side, grabbing your hand in his. He leaned forward and brushed your hair out of your face.

“He will be tried for high treason.”

“He didn’t commit high treason. He can’t even be tried for an assasination attempt, he never got close to you.” Nikolai smiled slyly and met your eyes.

“First off, I’m the King and I get to say who is tried with high treason. Second off, it was not an assassination attempt on the King of Ravka, it was however an assassination attempt on the future Queen of Ravka.” You went completely silent for a few moments, his words hanging in the air.

“You didn’t tell him that, did you?”

“I did. In fact, I told Genya to stop planning for the suitors' arrival next week.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Then I told her to get an official announcement prepared.”

“Nikolai-”

“Be quiet for a moment,” he said, meeting your eyes. “You got rather lucky today. You’re very lucky actually that you happened to be at the castle where there are the best Healers around. If you hadn’t been, your burns could have been much worse and you could have died.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch.”

“Shh!” He cleared his throat. “I won’t lose you. You are the most fit to be Queen and we will secure the Lantsov line with our children.”

“I’m Grisha thou-”

“Darling, if you interrupt me one more time I will poke an injury.” You smiled a bit and rolled your eyes. “My decision is final. I am your King and I have made my choice.” He paused. “If you’ll have me.” You had a feeling that he was telling you the truth. There was no way to talk him out of this. Truth be told, you wanted nothing more than to marry him. You had wanted it since the moment he laid eyes on you. You closed your eyes for a moment and shook your head, laughing gently.

“Fine. Yes, Nikolai, I will marry you.” A bright smile went over his face as he clapped his hands together and then turned to you, kissing you gently. You moaned in pain and he pulled away.

“I’m sorry. Just excited. Oh Genya is going to love this. She’ll have a ball planning our wedding. Oh and I have so many ideas for the honeymoon, you’re going to love it.” You grabbed his hand and couldn’t help but feel equally excited.

“We can talk more about it in the morning. Right now, I’m exhausted.”

“Oh yes of course. Scoot over.”

“Nikolai, you have things to do today.”

“Scoot.” You rolled your eyes and did as you were told. He laid on the bed beside you, putting his arm around your shoulder. You rested your head on his chest.

“Goodnight my darling,” he whispered, kissing your forehead.

“Goodnight my King.”

Grishaverse Tag List: @elisaa-shelby

@chameleon-junkie

[dmwrites]

Chapter 4- What We Know

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3

——

When Michael awoke, the sun was still up. Or a whole day and night had passed. The idea made him chuckle- it really was like a vacation. He’d slept hard, but now that he was awake, details of his journey, the first tastes of the famous Hermitcraft server, were coming back to him. He wrenched open the shades of his window, and stood just staring at the huge elegance of the castle just a few hundred blocks away. There was no moon, thankfully, because that thing was actually nightmare-inducing, but there was definitely a sense of unease, or maybe that was just him.

Michael got dressed and headed outside, grabbing an apple from the basket by the register as he passed. It was quiet here, peacefully so. Outside, he took a deep breath- the air was a lot cleaner too, without all the residual gunpowder and smoke that seemed to forever permeate the Dream SMP. He walked towards the castle, assuming that Joe and Cleo were still moving the walls, whatever that meant.

Michael didn’t have to look very hard for them, because he could hear arguing echoing from across the first courtyard he got to.

“I swear to god, Joe, I’m going to slaughter you! You just placed that wall! You! I am not cleaning up your stupid mistakes!”

“Oh sorry, you’re PerfectCleo, I forgot!”

The two came into view around a corner. “Should I like come back later or… Michael came towards the two, hands out in a placating way.

“Michael! You’re awake! Hi bud!” Joe smiled.

“Don’t worry about it, Michael. We fight about everything. It’s how we get stuff done.” Cleo waved a hand as if to push the awkwardness away. “Joe keeps moving the castle walls for ‘historical accuracy’, is all. He also keeps moving my patience with it.”

“My apologies for overwhelming you the other day- I’ve been told I have that effect.” Joe said. “It’s been so long since we’ve had someone on the server who isn’t a hermit, you know?”

Michael wrapped an arm around Joe. “Don’t worry about it, my guy. We’re all good here. I’m all rested now, and we’re gonna solve this moon mystery together. That fucker is going back where it came from.” There was a sudden rumble, and Michael felt the earth shake. All three looked at each other, silent for a moment.

“So brazen of you.” Joe finally said. “But that’s attitude we need! Cleo and I, you’ll find, tend to lean on the side of cautiously pessimistic.”

“We’re absolute joys to have at parties, clearly.” Cleo added, voice wobbling just a little bit.

“I’ve prepared a PowerPoint presentation of all of the information Cleo and I have gathered about the moon anomalies thus far.” Joe clapped his hands and lead the way into the castle.

“And I brought snacks.” Cleo said, as they walked into a side room with a projector and two beanbags. “Knowing Joe, this is bound to be an hours-long infodump. And we support him, of course, but just with snacks and drinks.”

With Michael and Cleo settled in their beanbags, Joe lowered the lights and turned on the projector.

“So,” he said, adjusting his glasses, “there’s a moon getting bigger and bigger. But what do we know?”

Michael would later remember the three hour Joe Hills moon presentation as a kind of informative fever dream, but the gist was pretty simple. One: on October 21st, 2021, the moon had been noted as getting bigger, and was stuck in a single phase. Two: Joe had started calculating the size of the moon using two pillars as measurement points, and concluded that yes, the moon was getting bigger almost daily. Three: there were intermittent earthquakes, and about two of them happened during the presentation. Four: although not yet confirmed, gravity felt a little… odd sometimes. Like some kind of jump boost or something. And, five: not a single person, not even the smartest players on the server, knew why it was happening.

“And that’s where you come in, Michael.” Joe said, closing his retractable pointing stick with finality (“thank god” Cleo muttered under her breath). “We’ve all gone straight to the worlds of science for answers, and it’s left us with almost nothing except measurements. So, what do you do when traditional approaches fail? You go to theory and story. Thus is the human condition.” Joe spread his hands at Michael.

“No pressure.” Cleo nudged him.

Michael let out a long whistle. “Damn, guys. Y’all know I just, like, play my silly little tunes on a radio station no one listens to and talk about my silly little theories, right?”

Joe chuckled. “Hey, what have we got to lose, right? You’re not from here, you think in ways we don’t. Even if you somehow make the moon come towards us faster, what’s the harm, right? It kind of seems like this is the eleventh hour, and what better way to spend it then in a crazy last-ditch effort with a new friend, huh?”

What Michael had always admired about Joe, in the few days they had spent together on the Dream SMP, was the ways he held himself up, tired yet strong. The strange man, with his strange green glasses, was a bit like a lighthouse in a storm. The battle may not be over yet, but there was at least something solidly and resolutely there up ahead. An earthquake shook the floor beneath them. Joe held out his hands, one to Cleo and one to Michael, and they held on tight, waiting for the earth to calm once again.

[stained-glasswriting]

Sweet Kitty

Hybrid!Park Jimin X Reader

Word count: 4.5k

AN: ok guys this ones gonna be a little bit of a slowburn. The classic reader finds a hybrid and takes them home. I hope you like!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had already been a long day when you got distracted while dragging yourself home. Your day started with your only 8 am class of the week, you were late of course, keeping you from your daily caffeine dose. It all got worse when you left your college campus for the diner you worked at. Immediately upon entrance, you were bowled over by a coworker practically begging you to take the last three hours of her shift. Agreeing to take the shift from her, you set about getting ready for that was now a closing shift.

Of course by the time you flick off the lights and lock the door, it was dark and started to drizzle. Pulling your jacket tighter around yourself, you step out into the street, starting the 5 block trek to your apartment.

The first thing that caught your attention as you neared your home, was a quiet whimpering. Quickly you stop in your tracks, looking around the damp area. For a moment the darkened street was silent, before a barely audible whine came from a dark expanse of alley jutting from the street to your left.

Staying in the entrance of the alley you peer in looking for the creature making the noises. In the dim lighting you could make out the sight of a pair of dumpsters surrounded by trash, sitting a few feet from a brick wall dead end. In front of them laid what looked like a pile of cardboard boxes. One of the boxes had something dark dangling out of it. At first you couldn't see anything that could be making that noise.

Another whimper had you taking a couple steps towards the wet boxes in front of you.

“Hello?” you called out into the dark tentatively. There was no response, but the quiet whimpers started up again.

You shoot a glance back out into the street considering your options. Going wandering down dark alleys in the middle of the night was a bad idea, but what if someone was hurt.

Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you slowly pick your way down the alleyway following the noises. All of your senses on red alert, you had to be careful. As you neared the boxes, you quickly realized that a dirty cat tail was hanging limply out of one of them. The stiffness in your shoulders leaks out as the realization that it's probably an animal that needs help.

Crouching, you peek into the dirty damp cardboard, fully expecting to see a kitty curled up in it. Instead you end up coming face to face with a hybrid.

You slap your hand over your mouth, effectively cutting off any noise you were about to make in surprise. Hybrids aren't exceptionally rare, but really only well off families could afford them. There weren't a lot of them just wandering the streets so this was unusual.

This one didn't exactly look like he’d come from a nice house though, or at least hadn’t been in one for a while. His clothes were dirty and appeared threadbare in places. They had run ragged around his wrists and ankles. Blood dripped down from his shoulder and down his arm staining the fabric a dark red. A long matted tail hung out from underneath where he was laying on the cardboard.

Your eyes trailed up the man’s skinny figure, up to his thin face. A fairly large cut was opened above his eyebrow, slowly weeping blood down his overly pronounced cheekbones. The cat hybrid’s eyes were closed but fluttered lightly as he made small noises in the back of his throat. His dirt covered ears pinned back in what you assumed to be pain.

Through all the dirt, blood, and obvious malnutrition, he looked small and almost soft. Honestly, how could anyone do this to him? It took all of two seconds to make your mind up to help him. You gave the hybrid a long moment of consideration, before you took the last few steps to reach the boxes. Leaning near you lightly touched his shoulder.

The effect was instantaneous. His body flinched away from you violently. The hybrid’s ears flipped forward to face you then immediately laid flat back again. His eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide with fear, they seemed unfocused, and whipped around wildly looking for danger. Another heart wrenching whine was released from his throat.

Pulling back you murmur soft comforting phrases, trying to assure the terrified hybrid. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep shuddering breath. The cat hybrid’s eyes finally seem to focus on you, scouring your face in an instant.

After a moment of staring between you, he seems to come to some sort of decision. He slides his eyes closed once more, and bends his head towards you seemingly resigned to allowing you to do as you wish. He’d seem almost calm if it weren't for the shaking of his form, and the ragged breaths that tore up his throat.

It’s cold out, and his injuries needed to be tended to. If you left him here, he wouldn't last much longer, you’d have to bring him home with you.

“Alright, come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” you whispered to him, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. You reach for his arm again, this time gently grabbing it. Your fingers wrap all the way around the thin limb.

Lightly you start pulling him out of the wet cardboard. You were afraid that he might resist or lash out at you, but he didn’t seem to have any fight left in him. He just sort of resigned himself to whatever you were intending to do with him.

You were able to pull the hybrid into sort of a crouching position. Several of the movements caused deeper, more draw out whines to escape him. The hybrid didn’t stop you while you placed your other hand on his elbow, pulling him into an upright position. The hybrid leaned on you heavily, his legs wobbling as you held him up.

The first couple of steps were difficult, and shaky as you murmured encouragement and praises to the man. He limped heavily to one side showing you there was something wrong with the leg. After about a minute he seemed a little more inclined to help, and didn’t weigh on you quite as heavily.

It took some time, but eventually you were able to get the hybrid to the front steps of your apartment building, and inside.

The light of the lobby showed just how much blood and dirt covered the man, and his clothes. Some of it had started to dry and harden to him. Other spots still oozed the thick red fluid. Underneath it all you could now see just how pale and exhausted he looked.

Thankfully it was late enough that the secretary for the building had left for the night leaving the lobby empty. This allowed you to avoid any strange conversations as you pulled the hybrid past the front desk and to the elevators behind it. Without setting the man down, you hit the button with your elbow.

You're lucky once more, with how late it is the elevator only took a couple of moments before opening with a ding. It wasn’t hard to pull him into the contraption, but as you stop to hit the button for your floor, you could feel him start to shake harder.

“We are almost there.” you assure the hybrid trying to calm him some.

A few minutes later you’re pulling the partially unresponsive hybrid into your two bedroom apartment. Bypassing your living room and kitchen, you drag him down the hallway into our bathroom. Carefully you settle him down on the floor, and lean him against the tub wall.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You told him, and spun on our heel leaving in search of the first aid kit you kept in the hallway closet. While in there you also snagged a couple of extra towels and a whole box of Band-Aids.

By the time you make it back to the bathroom, the hybrid appears a little more conscious. He was sitting a bit straighter, his tail clutched between his hands as he messed with the fur. His eyes wide with fear blinked up at you when the door opened.

“I’m just here to help, I promise,” you reassured the hybrid gently. Slowly you crouch in front of him trying to get a better view of his forehead. You could tell it was still sort of bleeding, but with all the dirt and dried blood it was difficult to tell where the cut started. You’d likely have to get him cleaned up before you could do anything meaningful about his wounds. He flinched violently when you carefully pressed a clean cloth on the wound, but didn’t move otherwise. After a few minutes you’re at least able to get the bleeding to stop.

Tearing your eyes from his injured forehead, you glance down, locking eyes with the man. He studied your face with an intensity that made you squirm slightly. You could tell he was sort of sizing you up. It was as if he expected you to do something, and was ready for whatever it was.

“Well, it’ll be difficult to do anything about your injuries till we get you cleaned up. Do you want to take a shower?” you asked the hybrid in front you.

His body jerked in surprise, his eyes somehow widening even further, apparently that was not what he had been expecting of you. He refused to speak but did respond with a stilted nod that left him wincing in pain.

Pushing yourself up, you cross to the front of the tub. He listens intently as you explain the different knobs, and what soaps to use.

“Do you need anything else?” you ask, lightly helping the man into a standing position. He quickly shook his head in response.

“I’ll bring you some fresh clothes.” you told him as you started towards the door. Warm fingers snaked around your wrist lightly. He pulled enough to stop you without actually pulling you back. This time when you turned to look at him, he kept his eyes firmly on the floor.

“Thank you.” he said quietly, his voice raspy almost like it was overused.

“Of course!” You immediately exclaimed with a nod. The hybrid looked up just in time to see a sweet smile come across your face. He released your hand then, allowing you to finally leave your bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing you did was change out of your now dirty work clothes, and into some comfortable pajamas. Looking through your closet, you pulled out some basketball shorts your ex left, and an oversized t-shirt. With a pair of scissors you cut hole in the back of them around where the hybrid’s spine would end for his tail. After a second thought, you grabbed a sweatshirt you wore often. It was your largest, even though he wasn’t much taller than you and was basically just skin and bones, you thought he deserved something soft and comfortable.

Carefully you slid the bathroom door open just enough to shove the clothes in. some steam escaped, showing just how hot he had the water at.

Your next task was getting some food into the poor boy. He looked so skinny, you should go with something that wouldn’t be too heavy on his stomach. Flitting around the kitchen, you get some soup started on the stove. It was just a simple chicken noodle soup recipe. Chicken, noodles, stock, and some vegetables you had chopped up originally for stir fry all went into the pot. Humming you bounced between the stove, and setting two places at the table.

Lost in your own world, you missed the sound of the shower turning off, then later the sound of the door opening. You got quite the fright when you turned, silverware in hand, and a now clean hybrid was standing in front of you wearing the shorts and shirt you left him staring at you.

A startled squeak slipped past your lips when you jumped. At the noise the man’s ears pinned back, and his eyes dropped back to the floor.

“It’s ok, you just startled me.” you reassured him, hands raised. “Are you hungry?” he responded with a short single nod. With a happy smile you went back to setting the table, and finishing the soup.

Before long, you were ladling the hot liquid into two bowls you put on the tale. Carefully you place the pot onto the pad in the middle of the table, and sit at one end looking expectantly up at the hybrid. He still stood in the doorway, head down, but now his tail sat in his hands as he carded his fingers through the fur. The sweatshirt you left him was slung over his shoulder.

After the shower, his fur proved to be much fluffier than you had expected. It was a lovely light tan that turned almost cream color in some spots without all that dirt covering it. Unfortunately there still appeared to be some tangles among the fluff, but those could be brushed out later.

“Aren't you going to sit down and have some?” you asked, confused as to why he continued to stand there,

“Sit… at the table?” his head snapped up to stare at you as the words tumbled from his open mouth. In his seemingly shocked state you were able to finally get a good look at his face now washed.

The hybrid was pale, and his cheeks sunken in from malnutrition. The wound over his eyebrow had stopped bleeding but the area around it was all red and angry. You could tell he’d been on the street for a while, and was exhausted if the circles underneath his eyes were anything to go by.

Despite all of this, the male across from you was handsome. He had nice full lips and high cheekbones underneath wide brown eyes, his hair, now clean, was a lovely light blonde color. Although it was shaggy, a little tangled, and definitely in need of a cut. Then at the top of his head stood a pair of fluffy ears with the same coloration as his tail.

After a long moment of staring between the two of you, he limped over and pulled out the chair opposite of you, and hesitantly sat down in it. He glanced up at you again, maybe waiting for you to start. With another reassuring smile, you grab your spoon and dig in. Once the first spoonful hit your mouth, he snatched up his spoon and started in on his food too.

The first couple of spoonfuls he started slow, but after that he tucked in with much more gusto. He made happy little noises as he dug into the hot broth. It took him only minutes to finish off the bowl, even tipping it back to get the rest of the liquid. His ears drooped slightly as he sat back and looked into his empty bowl forlornly.

“If you’re still hungry, have some more, there’s plenty.” you told him with a giggle, gesturing to the pot.

“N-no, I’m alright.” he stuttered out. The strange flick his tail did, and the look in his eyes told you differently.

“It’s ok, there’s plenty,” you responded, standing to ladle more into his bowl. This time he wasted no time tucking in and scarfing it down.

“So, my name is (Y/N), what’s yours?” you asked politely. You thought it was about time that you learned something about what was going on.

“My name?” he pondered for a moment before answering. “I’m Park Jimin,” he gave a short bow from his seat with the response.

“Park Jimin,” you repeated thoughtfully. “I like it!” you decided with a smile.

A beautiful smile lit up his face the moment the words left your mouth. His thick lips pulled back in a sweet smile that showed his teeth, and turned his eyes into little crescent moons. A light dusting of pink settled onto Jimin’s cheeks as he ducked his head and went back to his soup.

The moment you saw Park Jimin’s smile you knew you were a goner. With the appearance of that smile came the realization that you’d do just about anything to keep it on his face.

You observe him quietly while you finish your own bowl, Jimin however had another two. He looked up gratefully at you when ladled more into his bowl each time, his tail flicking back and forth. Around the middle of his fourth bowl, both his tail and his eyelids had started to droop. The hybrid looked sleepier and sleepier as time went on, but you wanted to deal with his wounds before you settle him in for the night.

Trying not to startle him, you stood slowly, gathering the dirty dishes from the table. When Jimin noticed you cleaning up, he hopped out of his seat and snatched his own dishes off the table before you could grab them too. With big eyes, he stood looking at you, waiting for you to make a move. He followed you like a shadow into the kitchen, immediately placing his dishes next to the sink with your own.

The hybrid then ignores your movement to return to the bathroom, and instead turns to the sink turning it on.

“Leave that for now, I’ll take care of it later.” You tell him turning the sink back off, holding your hand out to him.

Jimin’s ears go back again as he stares at you in confusion.

“You- I-?” he sputtered for a moment, eyes flicking between your face and your hand. “Shouldn’t I do it?” He finishes lightly placing his hand in yours.

“I’m a big girl, I can wash my own dishes,” you giggle, gently pulling him back to the bathroom. A look of utter confusion passed over his face, but he allowed you to tug him along.

You walked him back to the bathroom, taking care to go slowly so he could limp along without too much trouble.

Once there , you settle Jimin down on the edge of the tub, and open up the first aid kit. Flipping the lid open, you pull out a spray antiseptic.

“This is gonna sting a little.” you warned as you pushed back the tan strands of hair that flopped over his forehead as they dried. Now clean the cut above his eyebrow looked a bit smaller, and the edges looked clean like it had been done with something very sharp.

Carefully you sprayed the antiseptic over the slash mark, making Jimin wince as he gasped sharply.

“Sorry… Sorry,” you whisper, pulling a piece of gauze out of the kit on the counter, you lightly press the gauze to his forehead with one hand, using the other to attach it with medical tape. Once it seems secure, you take a step back to admire your work.

Jimin stared up at you with curious eyes, sleepiness seemingly entirely forgotten for the time being.

“Alright, now for the shoulder, shirt off.” you said with a gesture to the piece of clothing.

The hybrid stared at you for a long long moment, seeming to study you. It took a little for you to even realize why.

“Oh, I mean only if you’re comfortable…” you tried to back track. The tell tale feeling of warmth of a blush flooding your cheeks.

He then gave you a small nod, and began pulling the shirt over his head, wincing as he moved his shoulder up.

A gasp passed your lips as the true extent of the damage done to Jimin’s body was revealed. His malnutrition was even more obvious with the sight of his clearly visible ribs, the skin clung tightly to each one all the way down to his stomach slightly distended with the weight of the meal he’d just had. His hip and collar bones stuck out sharply showing once more how long it had been since he had a good one.

Bruises of various states of healing dotted up and down his emaciated form. Scars joined the mixture here and there across the expanse of pale skin some more healed than others.

Tearing your eyes from the hybrid’s chest, you moved to take a look at his battered arms. They were also dotted with bruises, but at the top of his arm and around his shoulder was a large patch of marred skin. It looked like he’d likely skidded across the ground on it. You could see bits of gravel still embedded in the skin, some parts still damp with spots of blood, others had already started to scab over. Lightly you pulled on his arm to turn his body to give you more access. This also gives you a view of his back.

“Oh, honey…” you breathed out in shock, nausea rose in you as your eye’s raked down his pale skin. His back was somehow even more mutilated than the rest of him. Thin, ropey scars crisscross across it in no apparent pattern. Thankfully even the newest ones looked mostly scarred over, like it had been a while since he’d gotten them.

Before you could think, you lightly dragged a finger down a raised line of skin. Jimin released a shuddered breath causing you to jerk back away from the injuries.

“I was bad a lot.” he whispered without turning to look at you. For a moment you stared dumbly at the back of his head before you realized what he meant.

“What? You meant these are punishments?” you asked shocked.

The cat hybrid didn’t respond at first, his breath rattled through his chest. It took a moment but eventually he gave a stiff nod. Suddenly his behavior through the night started to make sense. You didn’t know how much abusive bullshit they filled his head with.

“Oh Jimin, you don’t deserve anything like this.” you told him, tears starting to form in your eyes. Hesitantly you reach for him shaking, but you stop, hands hovering over his skin. Faint warmth radiated off as you looked over the expanse of marred skin on his back. Honestly you couldn’t tell if the hybrid was shaking more or if you were.

A loud sniffle escapes you, as you rub away a couple of tears tracking their way down your face. Jimin’s ears flick back towards you at the noise, and he whirls around to look at you.

His eyebrows pulled together tightly over eyes that studied you again with an intensity that had you dropping your hands into your lap. Jimin’s eyes search your face, following the tracks left by your tears. After a moment he broke your impromptu staring contest, drooping as he turned his face to the side.

“ Why are you crying?” he asks, not looking at you. His voice then gets really small. “I was naughty, it was my punishment.” The hybrid’s tan tail stays low but swishes side to side fast behind him.

“No no no, you don’t deserve this.” You move to reassure him, kneeling down on the floor in front of Jimin. He notices this, looking down at you as you sit and continue on, “ nothing you could ever do, would make it ok for them to do that to you.” By the end of your sentence your voice had started to waver. Jimin was fully looking at you by this point, mouth dropped open in shock.

It’s only a moment before his face crumples into tears. Quickly you pull the cat hybrid off of the tub rim, and into your arms. He startles, stiffening at first, before melting into your arms. His body trembles hard in your arms as he buries his face in your neck. You start rubbing his back slowly trying to calm him.

It took a while to get him to stop shaking, and even longer for his sniffles to slow. Pulling away carefully as his breathing calms, you raise a hand to wipe at the tear tracks covering his face as well now. Jimin just blinks slowly at you, pure exhaustion written all over his face. It’s definitely time to get him cleaned up and in bed.

“Come on, up.” you tell him, pulling him up as you stand. The hybrid’s eyes and tail are clearly drooping in sleepiness when you settle him back on the tub side. “I’ll finish cleaning you up. Then we can go to bed.”

Carefully you patch up both his shoulder and several large slices around his leg. All of the cuts appeared to be done with a knife like his face had. The questions you had about them could wait at least the night, while Jimin’s emotions were obviously still raw.

By the time you finish, he is clearly nodding off, jerking himself awake every few moments. When you move back to put your first aid stuff in the box, the hybrid’s big brown eyes blink blurrily up at you. His left hand raised to rub at his still somewhat red and blotchy face. Grabbing his hand, you pull him into a standing position, and help him put his shirt back on without messing with his wrapping too much.

“Alright, I have a guest bedroom that is all yours for the night.” you tell him, gently pulling him from the bathroom. In the same hallway were two doors, one being your room which you pointed out to him, the other being the guest room you were leading him to.

Opening the door, you help him hobble inside, holding onto his uninjured arm. You deposit him on the bed, and help him under the covers. Reaching over to a little side table situated next to the bed, you flick in a small lamp sitting on top. The dim light shows a sparsely decorated room.

The walls of the room were a pretty light blue color, but other than the bed and the table. The only furniture in the room was a dresser. A closet juts out into the room next to the entrance, a pair of large full body mirrors work as the sliding doors to it. Honestly the room was mostly set up for when your brother came into town, which you’re thankful for now.

Once Jimin was settled into bed, eyelids already falling, you straighten up, leaving the dim light on just in case. You sneak out of the room, leaving the door cracked, to let the exhausted hybrid sleep.

Quietly you go about cleaning up the remnants of your dinner. After taking care of the dishes, you turn in for the night as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: alright guys let me know what you think. And if you want another chapter!

[hotwings0203]

I JUST SAW FIGHT CLUB AND HOOOLLYYY-

Bro could you IMAGINE FightClub!Bakugo?

Tw:noncon, language, harassment

Okay okay get this: you’re down in the basement listening to the usual men holler and punch each other around while you do your job as their cute little “accountant”. While many of them have good jobs and a real life, the actual members don’t have time or the intellect to juggle the numbers and money around as fast as you can. You’ve been coming here for a while now, and you’re used to the jeers and wolf-whistles coming your way since you’re basically one of the few or only women who dare to come down here.

But there’s one fighter who just can’t seem to take no for an answer.

Bakugo fucking Katsuki.

The man is ruthless, he’s relentless, he’s a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. You swear he’s had to have taken a shitload of steroids in his youth, otherwise how else could he have built up that much muscle? There’s no way an average gym-goer has that kinda build.

He’s always the first and the last one out in the rink, swaying back and forth with his fists up, a twisted grin on his face that was so reminiscent of a wolf before it lunges for its prey.

It usually took more than two men to pull him off the unconscious bodies that he had just beaten to a pulp, effectively breaking one of Fight Clubs Rules: get up when someone is down.

But he’s too good to let go, no one has the balls to tell him to take his money somewhere else since they’re all scared shitless of him.

Which leads him to believing that he’s practically a god down here, that he can conquer anything: including you.

No one really calls it harassment because no one really cares. What’s so wrong in a guy having a little crush? What, you came down here seeing all this testosterone but you can’t deal with it yourself? Don’t be a prudish bitch.

“Bakugo, I’m at work right now, I don’t want to.”

“C’mon toots, this ain’t even real work, you’re just fumblin’ my hard earned cash.” He grins slyly and crosses his bulging muscular arms, leaning against the doorway of the little office you’re given to work your magic.

You turn in your rickety seat and glare at him, ignoring the way he licks his lips and lets his eyes roam all over your body. “If I’m so shit at my work then go somewhere else and stop bothering me.”

He chuckles in his baritone voice and shakes his head at you. “Naw, can’t do that sweets. If I did then I’d never be able to see your pretty face again now, could I?” Bakugo leers at you and you turn your face in disgust.

“I don’t wanna go out for lunch, or ever with you. Now get out before I have to call someone in here.”

“Oh, is that so?” He uncrosses his arms and steps through the threshold, his body growing larger and more menacing as he slowly draws closer to you. Luckily a fight had broken out near the office months ago so there was no more door from the aftereffects, but that didn’t mean you felt safe even with open space.

“G-get out. I’m serious, Bakugo-“

“-Call me Katsuki, angel. And you don’t really mean that, do you? Look at you, you can barely look me in the eye when you say such mean things.” His voice drops an octave as he comes to stand in front of your seated form, towering above your wide eyes, clenched fists and trembling figure.

He leans down and you flinch and gasp as his breath ghosts over your face. He places both arms on either side of your chair so you have nowhere to look but him.

“You’re such a nice breath of fresh hair down here, through all the blood and violence. You’re like a flower...” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear and breaths out a laugh when you turn your head and squeeze your eyes shut.

“A flower, so fragile...a flower that smells so fucking good...” you feel like you can’t properly breathe as he leans in next to your ear and inhales deeply.

“A flower waiting to be deflowered herself.”

“What’s going on here?” A lanky body in the doorway appears.

Bakugo pulls back and turns his head ever so slightly towards the dude, growling under his breath at the interruption.

“We’re in the middle of something here, so you can just get the fuck ou-“

“-Well, it doesn’t really look like she’s into whatever you’re doing,” the man scoffs and takes in your pale face and shaking hands.

Bakugo stands to his fullest height, almost neck and neck with the man at the door.

“Yeah? I didn’t hear a complaint from her.” He cocks his head and stretches, allowing his muscles to ripple with each movement, something that didn’t go unseen by your much skinnier savior.

But he doesn’t back down. He only swallows and rubs the back of his neck.

“Well, we’re all being called out to put our bets in for the next match anyways, so you better come out before we get our asses kicked.”

The blond grumbles about weak men and no balls, then casts a dark look at your frozen figure before shouldering past the man at the door, almost knocking him down.

As soon as he’s out of your line of vision, you exhale and relax into your seat.

“You okay?” The fallen soldier scrambles back up and cautiously approaches you, looking over your body in a way that didn’t remind you of Bakugo undressing you with his eyes...rather, it was a protective, and worried once-over.

“Yeah, he’s just...a lot to handle sometimes. Doesn’t know when to quit.” You laugh shakily and run a hand through your hair.

“No wonder the dude’s a menace. He’s used to getting what he wants, I guess.” The man acknowledges this grimly, and for the first time you’re relieved that finally someone hasn’t turned a blind eye to your harassment.

“Are they really calling us down for bets?”

“No, I just said that to get him off your ass. Didn’t seem like you liked whatever he was doing.”

You give him a wobbly smile and he returns it.

“Sooo we should probably run before he comes back up here, right?”

“Oh most definitely,” you actually giggle before leaping out of your seat and joining the man to bound up the steps two at a time to freedom.

You both end up bonding pretty well over the weeks, even going out for coffee and lunch dates here and there. You’ve come to really like him, his shyer demeanor more than a majority of the ragtag men down in the basements, his chivalry refreshing to you amongst the blood and foul language thrown around the ring.

You feel like a woman with him, not some piece of ass like you were used to.

Bakugo noticed all this, of course. You started avidly avoiding him, ducking your head down and hiding behind your new ally before he could open his coarse mouth and stalk towards you. He couldn’t find you in your dingy office anymore either, because your savior was up in a cafe doing the calculations with you, laughing away about the latest matches.

That has to change. Effective immediately.

“Yo, newbie. How you been? Haven’t seen you fightin’ here for a while,” Bakugo claps his meaty hand on the scrawny guy’s back, nearing sending him toppling over.

“Yeah, y’know, just haven’t been feeling it lately.” He rubs the stinging feeling away from his sore shoulders and side eyes the blond suspiciously. He had seen firsthand just how bad-news of a guy he was, and he didn’t wanna get caught up in all that.

But Katsuki wasn’t just all brawn. He had some brains, too.

“Look, I know I prolly gave off a weird first impression with Y/N back then. But it’s all in good health, ‘was just messin’ around like I always do.”

“Yeah, sure...”

“How ‘bout we get some coffee or somethin’? You seem like a solid dude, plus we got shit in common to talk about.”

Like fucking around with my bitch.

“Uh, you sure? I kinda’ wanted to see the last fight,” he trails off unsuredly, scratching his jaw as Katsuki steers him away from the growing crowd.

“There’ll always be fights, man. I wanna show you that I’m a nice guy.”

Bakugo Katsuki was not a nice guy.

And everyone knew that too, which is why when some shifted to give the duo a curious glance he met them with a death glare. Any gazes locked on Katsuki’s hand wrapped around the lanky guy’s shoulders were immediately casted down.

You didn’t see your savior for a while.

It had been two weeks since he mysteriously disappeared from his usual place in the outskirts of the crowd, because unbeknownst to you, a certain fighter was keeping him away from you and convincing him to have a friendly brawl over lunch.

You only found out about it on a Friday night, when a crowd much bigger than before was gathered in the dim basement, voices hushed and whispering.

“What’s going on? Why’s everyone so quiet?” You whisper to one of the usuals.

“‘Heard Bakugo’s fighting some dude that was handpicked by himself. He somehow managed to convince the poor bastard to have some kinda’ match with him.”

You felt your heart sinking.

“Who did he pick?”

“‘Dunno, some skinny guy, a newbie I think. Hasn’t been around for too long so I guess he doesn’t know how big of a monster he’s gonna be beaten by.” The groupie shrugged, and you felt the blood drain from your face.

Without saying another word, you spun around and started running around all over the place looking for either of the two.

You end up stumbling into the men’s bathroom, desperate beyond salvation to stop this bloodbath.

He’s there, he’s at the urinal and he yelps when he hears you barge in. You avert your eyes and let his adjust himself as he sputters indignantly.

“Y/N? What’re you doing in here? This is a men’s-“

“Don’t fight him.”

“What?”

“Don’t fight Bakugo, please, he’s gonna kill you, I know he is-“

“-Calm down, what’re you so worked up about? C’mon, I would’ve thought you’d had a little bit more faith in me to be able to stand my ground.” He teases you but you don’t find it funny, on the contrary you’re terrified out of your mind for his life.

“Did he put you up to this? How could you fight him, you’ve seen what he does to the other guys in the ring!”

“Well yeah, but he knows not to go that hard on me. Actually, he’s not that bad of a guy, we’ve gotten some drinks for the past two weeks and I was wrong about him.”

You gape at him. “Wrong? You saw how he cornered me that one day!”

He shrugs, not put off by the distant memory. “The guy just came back from a fight, he still had testosterone going through him. You can’t blame him for wanting to let a bit of it out, right? You should really give him a chance y’know, he talks about you all the t-“

But you can’t hear anymore, this is madness, there’s barely 10 minutes left until they’re going to call the two down for their death match. You need to find the source of this problem firsthand.

And somehow, a little voice inside your head tells you exactly where you know he is.

You round the corner to your office and there he is in all his glory, seated like a king on your chair, leaned back with his knees spread, carelessly looking through your bank statements and bet papers.

He barely looks at you as he says, “Oh there you are, I was starting to think you’d miss the show.”

You sink to your knees.

He looks up at that.

With a tight chest and burning eyes, your dry throat barely permits you to choke out, “Bak-Katsuki, please, please don’t do this. Please don’t fight him.”

He cracks his neck and leans forward, regarding you with dark vermilion eyes. He looks your position over appreciatively before speaking.

“Why not? He’s so good and great isn’t he? I’m just trying to show you how right you were, after all. I’m sure he’s got a fair chance of beating me.”

You shake your head vigorously, knowing what he’s playing at.

“No, no, you’re better, please. I was wrong about him, I shouldn’t have been friends with him, please don’t fight him Katsuki I’ll do anything-“

“-Oh you’ll do anything I say regardless of if I beat him to a bloody pulp or not. You wanna know why?”

You can barely contain a whimper as he stands and walks over right in front of you, his bulging crotch mere inches away from your face.

He suddenly grabs your hair and you cry out before he yanks your head up to meet his cold eyes.

“Because no one in here is gonna say shit to me. I run things here, toots. And if you want your little boy toy to live through today, you’re gonna watch every blow I give to him, and you’re gonna kiss the fucking knuckles I beat his face with. Got that?”

You sob as he grinds his clothed erection against your tear-streaked face, sniffling when he moans loudly and bucks into your open mouth.

A loud knock on the bare hinges stops Bakugo from pulling the front of his shorts down.

You both turn your heads and see a red-faced side-liner looking down and mumbling something about the match starting.

“‘Be there in a minute. Tell the guys to give my girl here a special front-row seat to this match, she’s gonna wanna see her man win, after all.”

The runner scampers off, leaving you both alone.

He bares his teeth down at you and you cower under his painful hold, the roots of your hair ripping from their strands.

He eventually tosses your head to the side after a few seconds of staring you down, and the second he does you clutch your sore cranium.

“I better see you down there in a minute sweet thing. You gotta get used to it anyways, since you’re gonna be getting accustomed to my rituals before and after matches.”

[pudgecuddles]

Okay but. Star Trek AU where NJ is the captain of the USS Bulletproof, a diplomatic starship on a mission to offer peace to foreign planets.

In this world, everyone eats nutrition cubes. Brightly colored, low carb, zero sugar cubes of plant material. The amount per serving calculated exactly to the individual passenger’s caloric needs.

One day, the ship encounters a merchant ship stranded in space. Taking the alien in, they are paid for their good deed with ancient earth information. Menus salvaged from old greasy diners…

Ever the curious mind, Namjoon enlists mechanic Yoongi to help him unlock the unused meal replication function of the cube creator.

After Yoongi took some time inputting the information from the menu, Namjoon ordered the item called a “Cheeseburger”.

Ignoring Yoongi’s warnings, Namjoon takes a bite of the strange meal and instantly takes another. And another. Before he knows it, the sandwich is gone and he’s ordering another.

Yoongi can only watch as his captain becomes addicted to the fatty food in real time. Any protest that passed his lips was brushed off, and any attempt to shut off the machine was met with official orders not to.

Months pass, and not a single officer can recall what their caption looks like without a carton of fries, a milkshake or a triple cheeseburger in his grease covered hands. Soon enough, Namjoon finds himself struggling to fit into his uniform.

Not a problem though, he’d just order a new one. Problem solved, right? It was just shrunk in the wash. Or maybe it was switched with Jimin’s uniform, he thought ignoring the fact that the number of stripes on the shoulders said otherwise…

You see, in this future, no one ever gained weight. It is literally unheard of. A rumor at best. So the fact that the crews captain seemed to be growing wider around the middle, and maybe even a little bit everywhere was concerning if not medically confounding!

Medical officer Hoseok finally had enough. Ordering his captain to the Med Bay, he gives the younger man a full physical.

Baffled by the soft pudge now covering every inch of his captain, Hoseok pinched and groped at the flesh. Shaking it only to watch it wobble even after letting go.

Scratching his head, Hoseok concluded that Namjoon was free of illness, parasites, poisoning, and even alien influence… His body just seemed to be expanding at an alarming rate!

“The only thing I can think of is those new cubes you’re eating…” Hoseok trailed off, staring as his captain sucked at the odd opaque tube Namjoon called a “straw”. Apparently, a thick liquid flowed up it and into Namjoon’s mouth. An ingenious device, admittedly. He wondered if it would work with water or if it’s function was exclusive to these “milkshakes”.

“I guess?” Namjoon pulled his lips off the straw with a loud pop, prodding at his drooping belly. “I mean, I only started… growing… after I added ‘fast food’ to my diet.”

Replaced, you mean… Hoseok mentally corrected. Neither he nor the rest of the officers had seen Namjoon so much as take a taste of a nutrition cube since he started eating cheeseburgers and fries.

Satisfied that their captain was okay, Hoseok’s concern faded into curiosity. When would the growth stop? Where would the softness go? Would there be an end to it? Or would his captain keep growing and growing?

And what was it about that fast food that made Namjoon go so crazy over it?

Sending Namjoon off with a clean bill of health, on the condition that he can keep eating as long as he writes down his measurements and other effects, Hoseok makes his way to the canteen… just a taste wouldn’t hurt would it?