#but if you put me in any water body. I will drown all the same.

[plasma-studios]

The Shape of You (ao3: x)

Winter King!Nightmare steals Dust away for his own. Blue refuses to leave his friend behind. Somewhat foolishly, he makes a wager: earn the favour of each Court, return with a token from each to prove it before the time runs out, and he'll be permitted to take Dust home.

Fail, and be lost to the Fae Realm forever. He's already attracting the attention of Spring Ruler!Ink, Summer King!Dream and Autumn Ruler!Error as he journeys through the Fae Realm... all who which seek to take him for their own gain.

But Blue plans to bring his friend home, whatever the cost.

(UTMV FAE AU)

Chapter 1: Foolish Wager

Up in the mountains, the ice does not melt. 

Cloud cover shrouds the palace on the peak; sculpted of ice and frost, it houses the Fae with long frozen over hearts. Beware the wind sweeping lost souls up the mountain paths; statues of ice made of brave adventurers and desperate men litter the snow-covered paths. And many more have long been buried under the snow.

The Winter King hoards souls, it is said. Beware the frost that doesn’t melt; beware the greed that guards their icy hearts. Winter’s greed has long been spoken of.

*** Blue has to resist the urge to bow. To kneel to the man resting atop his throne of ice. 

No, he thinks. Not man. Fae. The Fae is swathed in shadows seeping into the ice tiles, a single bottle-green eyelight fixated on him. His head leans to the right, as if curious. Or, more likely, uninterested, as his eye stares back at him unblinkingly.

The throne marks him as the Winter King, and Blue is very, very afraid. Or perhaps he is just shivering because of the cold.

The Winter King is made of shadows, dissolving under the glare of the sun, and swallowing all in the dark of winter nights.

But he is still very much solid under the light. Blue glances up, momentarily and warily, wondering where the light is coming from. 

“Little one. I suggest you turn back now.” His words are poised, almost regal, but the cruel turn of his mouth makes Blue swallow his fear and press ahead. 

“Let my friend go,” He says, trying not to falter against the hard stare.

“Yours?” His voice is as cold as ice. 

Dust is asleep. Or, Blue hopes he is. His back is flush against the side of the throne, head slumping over. Frost collects at his limp fingers spread across the ice, and he can almost hear his quivering breaths as— oh, Dust. The shaking breath that leaves him condenses into plumps of white smoke.

“You’re hurting him.” There is a quiver of his own in his voice. “You’re hurting him,” He repeats.

He prays Dust isn’t as lifeless as he appears. 

And the Winter Ruler simply stares back at him, though his mouth has curved over in amusement.  

“Hurting him? If that was my wish, he would’ve been left out in the snow. Not in my Court, and certainly not in my Palace. No, no.” He lets out a chuckle that makes Blue shiver again. “I’m helping him become better. Stronger.”

“Better?” Blue finds it in himself to shake his head. “He doesn’t need to be better. He’s— enough.”

“For you, perhaps. But he’s not yours anymore, is he?”

He is. But the thought that forms so quickly does not feel good. He is enough, but not in the way that it is for him. Dust’s his own person, enough as who he is. He swallows his words.

“He’s my friend,” He says. 

The Winter Ruler is still smiling. It is not kind. “Was he?”

“Dust is,” He hesitates. “Reticent,” He finally says. “But clever. If you knew him, you would know he’s already enough. You would know he doesn’t need to become better. You don’t know him at all.”

The hint of red was gone from Dust’s sleeping form. You don’t even know he never takes off his scarf. Because that was his brother’s. And it was red, so naturally the Fae had discarded of it. 

For the first time, the Winter King’s smile drops. 

“And that,” He says coolly, without so much as the slightest shift in tone (though the look in his eye makes Blue want to step back), “Is exactly what makes him worthy.”

“What?”

“What?” A voice mocks. Blue glances away, to the Fae lazing on the steps to the right of the throne. It is the only other Fae. 

“Killer,” The Winter King reprimands. The Fae makes a noise that tells Blue, mortal as he is, that he regrets nothing, but the WInter King simply rolls his single eyelight. He does not make a move to punish the Fae at all. 

Nightmare’s right hand man, he recalls from some Fae text, is his Killer. 

He stiffens, but the Fae known as Killer does not move to attack him despite the stories of his thirst of blood. Probably because the Winter King has not given him permission quite yet.

“Worthy of what?”

He tilts his head. 

“To join us? So few mortals ever prove suitable. It would be a waste, really, to let something so precious live on the filth—”

“He’s not yours.” 

The cold takes hold of him, stealing warmth and hope and light and—

“Don’t interrupt me.” 

And he is released, gasping.

“His soul is already freezing over,” He continues. “He may not be Fae quite yet, but he is already mine. He will be Fae soon enough.” 

“Let me make a deal.” Killer lets out a snort. He knows how desperate he sounds, but he can’t just leave Dust behind. He made a promise. “Let me make a deal for him,” He pleads. “To bring him home.”

The Winter King scoffs. His eyes glint with icy disdain. “Let’s say I was quite the fool, and did make a deal with you. Why would you want to go that far? What would you offer that could possibly be worth the latest soul of mine?”

“He’s not just some soul.” His hands had found the shape of a fist. “He’s my friend. I won’t leave him behind.” He considers if his next words will be his last, and says them anyway. “He doesn’t deserve that.”

The Winter King, instead, appears to soften. 

“He won’t just be any Fae,” The Winter King begins uncharacteristically softly. “One of my very own. He’ll be placed high in my Court, as young as he is. He’ll be allowed to stay in the Palace. You know how he is wanted, yes? You know how he had to run from town to town, village to village, to avoid arrest. You knew this, don’t lie to me, and chose to befriend him anyway. That means you want him happy, yes? Here is a place he’ll never have to run from again. Here is a place he will be safe, eternally. You would deny a friend all that?”

It is as if the breath has been stolen from his lungs.

“How do you know this?”

The Winter King does not smile, but Killer does. It is a cruel grin, spanning from ear to ear, with razor-sharp teeth he’s sure is growing sharper by the second.

He looks back to the Winter King, trying to look unperturbed. 

“Did you think we were so careless? To find him only when he wandered into our arms?”

“How long.” He swallows. “How long were you watching?”

“Boringly long.”

“Quiet. Long enough,” He smiles. It is more unnerving than Killer’s, though he shows no teeth. “Long enough to know you have a family waiting for you, back home. Long enough to know he asked if you would come with him, and you told him you couldn’t leave your family behind. Long enough to know even this friendship has its limits. So why act as if you would fight tooth and nail to stay with him when you’ve already left him behind once? Pretender.”

His throat tightens. “I— but that’s different.”

“How so? Enlighten me.” 

He wants to lash out, to deny it, but what can he say against the truth? He had wanted Dust to be safe, but, his family. His chest was twisting painfully. It wasn’t the same. 

“It is different,” Blue finally manages to say. “Who wouldn’t stay for his older brother? I didn’t want to leave Dust, but I didn’t have—”

“Ah,” The Winter King interrupts. “You didn’t want to, you say, but you did. How noble. What a wonderful friend you are.” He gestures to Dust, the movement small, but he clearly took pleasure in it. “So here he lies, abandoned, but safe. And only because I took him in.”

“You chased him up a cliff— how did I put him in danger? Who do you think snuck him rations when he was caught stealing and put on probation under his umpteeth fake alias? Hell, I walked the route with him! How can you possibly say he was safe because of you? You’re the one that sent the blizzard after him!”

“Yes, the blizzard. He survived, did he not? And proved himself worthy.”

Was Blue smashing his skull against a rock? Was he the illogical one?

“What if he’d died in the blizzard?”

“He didn’t.”

“But what if he had?”

He shrugs. The Winter King shrugged. “He would’ve become mine anyway.”

Blue simply stares at him. He stares, long enough that Killer takes his eyes off him to fiddle with his knife.

“If you leave now,” The Winter King casually says, “I could promise you safe passage.”

“You don’t want him.”

“What?” 

"You don’t want him for himself.” He almost spit the words out, but common sense made him swallow the welt of saliva. "You want him for what he can become . What he can do for you. You said it yourself. You chose him because of his worth to the Court. Not because of who he was— is.”

“I chose him because I saw something better. So what if the cost of achieving that is helping him leave behind mediocrity?”

“He—”

“Enough.” Nightmare’s face drops. “Why am I arguing with a child? You are being foolish. My offer for safe passage only stands for as long as my patience does. I’ll freeze you solid and have both of you if you keep this up.”

“I’m not a— fine. You want me out of your court? Make a deal with me, for him.”

“You still haven’t answered my question, child. What could you offer that could possibly be worth him?”

“Years of life.” 

He shakes his head. “The lifetime he would have when he becomes Fae? A thousandfold your own mortal lifespan. You would not have nearly enough.”

“What if,” He stops. He collects himself. “What about a challenge? If I win, you’ll give me safe passage and let me bring Dust home. Back to my town, that will not be affected in any negative manner or endure any negative effects relative to what most mortals would perceive negative, because of the outcome or anything else in relation to the challenge.”

“Mouthy.” 

“A trial? So bold.” He doesn’t even bother chastising Killer this time, his eyes gleaming with an odd hunger. “And if I win?”

He already knows what he’ll ask for, but he asks anyway. “What do you want?”

“I think you know. I want you to give me your True Name.”

He freezes.

“Giving?” He repeats. 

“Oh, yes. Knowing isn’t enough, here. I need ownership, little one.”

But that would mean everyone else forgetting it. 

That’ll erase every memory of me out there. There must’ve have been a hundred cautionary tales not to tell the Fae your name, and especially not to give them your name. Once you did it, you were gone from your loved ones forever. Even the memory of you. It would leave holes in their memories, your shape forever unfillable.

He hesitates for what must feel like an eternity. Though, what would he know of eternity?

“There must be something else,” He tries. The Winter King remains unimpressed. 

There is one more thing he could try. It is an unimaginable risk. But if Dust is what he wants, this is the only other thing he can barter. He hates it. But he has no choice. 

‘I know Dust’s True Name.” The moment he says this, the rustling wind goes silent. He hates the silence, the way the green eyelight fixates on him and even Killer is looking curiously at him. “If you win, I tell you his True Name.”

It feels like such a betrayal, wagering the information he had trusted Blue with. But if he doesn’t, Dust will never have the chance to escape. He swallows the guilt.

“I already have him, though.” The Winter King’s eyes gleam with greed. “A Name would definitely give me more room to work with, but he’ll be mine all the same. Just that won’t suffice.”

Winter is known for its greed.

What else can he barter? If he can’t offer Dust’s name, he can only offer his own. But— that would mean being forgotten. What about Papyrus? If he dies, he knows he’ll grieve, but he’ll move on just as he always does. But he can’t stand the thought of him never having known him at all. His Papyrus. 

And if he fails, Dust too will forget him. His Dust.

“Or,” He amends, “I tell you my True Name.”

There’s no mistaking the greed in his eyes. “And.”  

“Either I… give you my Name, or I tell you both Dust and I’s Names.” He swallows. If he loses, in any manner, he is fucked. “If I lose.”

The Winter King smiles. “Well, if you’re offering, how can I refuse?”

“And when I win?”

“If you win, I’ll let you bring Dust home under safe passage, and I will not do anything to harm anyone or anything in your town regardless of the outcome of the trial.” “You won’t do anything that would be perceived as harm by most mortals,” He insists. He’d heard too many stories of Fae-driven madness by ignorant blessings.

He smiles wider. “Fine. Do you accept, child?”

“You haven’t stated the trial yet.”

His smile curves into something more predatory. He gets to his feet. The amusement is gone from his smile, now. Shadows ripple at his feet, stretching out across the icy floor like living creatures.

Blue forces himself to stay still, and not flee.

“The trial will consist of all four Courts,” He drawls. “All the Rulers. Win their favour, and be given the token for each season. Winter, Autumn, Summer and Spring. Return to my Court with all four tokens before the Winter Solstice, and you will have won the trial.” 

“A token?” He pauses. Winter Solstice is what, two, three weeks later? “What about the token for Winter?”

“A charm imbued with magic. It signifies approval. Favour, even.” Blue frowns. Even if he’d succeed with the others, there was no way in hell he was going to procure favour from the Winter King. “But for the sake of the trial, I’ll grant you a Winter token. I would hate for anyone to think I’m anything but fair.” 

As if. He sighs, and thinks it through. Not like he has a choice.

“I want assurance that you won’t mess with Dust.” He knows he caught onto the right thing when he sees The Winter King’s smile drop. 

“Fine.” The slight flick of his head may very well be him rolling his eyes. “He’ll remain as he is, asleep and frozen, and still mortal.” 

“And retain his memories. Let him retain his memories.”

“I take it you accept the deal?” As he speaks, he catches sight of his teeth. Blue swallows.

“With my provisions, yes.”

“Very well.” He smiles sharply. “Extend your hand.”

Blue hesitates. He concedes.

He flinches away from the icy touch that spreads over— there is nothing there, he realises. Though his hand is numb with cold, there is nothing touching him. He turns his palm over.

There is a single snowflake resting there. It’s so small. Something in his chest seizes. What if he loses it?

Clink. He stills, confused. 

Then he sees the white trickling from the snowflake, curling around his fingers like a miniature silver snake. Before he says anything it is connecting around his wrist, and the snowflake is yanked out of his hand.

He stifles his yelp when he realises the token hangs from the newly-formed cuff.

He looks at the Winter King, but he looks wholly unaffected.

“There. One down, three to go.” It is a taunt. Blue doesn’t take the bait. Should he run? “Now, I said I could offer you safe passage. My patience is running thin. How about this? If you make it out of Winter alive, I’ll let you keep your pathetic life.”

Blue flinches at the cackle. But it is not from the Winter King.  The Fae on the throne steps rises. He carries his gleaming knife, and his grin from ear to ear is eager. 

He stares into those pools of black, leaking from where his eyes should be. 

He should run.

“Wait, Killer.” The Winter King glances to his left. “Horror’s hunting as well.”

He replies with something mildly rude. But Killer waits.

Blue wants to run, but he’s frozen to the spot.

Then something shifts in the corner of his eye. Light reflected off ice, reflected off metal. 

Behind him, there is another Fae rising to his feet. The glaring red eye staring dimly at him. The butcher knife gleams too, but he is not smiling. 

Blue stares at the hole in this Fae’s skull.

Among Winter’s most beloved terrors, is its Horror.

He sees himself, like prey, staring at his reflection in the gleaming knife. 

The cackle, from the other.

And then he runs like the prey he is. ***

With the two gone on another hunt, Nightmare leans over his armrest to gaze upon his newest soul sleeping so quietly. 

Dust, was it? That name won’t do when he joins Winter in whole. Just as Killer and Horror shed their pitiful mortal names, he’ll think something up for him. Something more fitting for a Winter Fae.

Ah, what a foolish little mortal. Brave? Perhaps. Stupidly so. 

Ink’s a problem. If the mortal gets to Ink, he might frustratingly show mercy. Always that soft spot for a good story. But that’s if he even survives Spring. 

It’ll be good if he goes through Autumn first. The kind of drive for one to commit to such a stupid decision is definitely going to pique Error’s interest. His ally has such an odd obsession with breaking wills, after all.

And then, Summer.

If he knows his brother, he’s fairly certain that’ll be the end of it. Faith burning so bright as to blind one to reality is exactly the kind of thing Dream adores. 

And his brother is just as possessive as him. 

Of course, none of that matters if he’s taken care of before he broaches the borders. 

Nightmare reaches for Dust’s cheek. The frost his touch leaves behind melts the moment he relinquishes it. 

A mortal with his family’s blood on his hands. Without anyone left for him, lost and forever running. Never loved right out there. Hunted for his sins, when he ought to be the hunter. He thinks of Killer, and Horror. Dust fits right in.

“You’ll make a wonderful addition,” He says to the unconscious, still mortal, Dust. “Just a few more weeks, and you’ll be as good as ours.”

[okwonyo]

﹙ ✉️ ﹚ ──MIDAS TOUCH. in which 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇'𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽.

엔하이픈 성훈 ⠀ ノ⠀ female reader 11OO non-idol au fluff established relationship ⠀⎯⠀⠀ not proof-read skinship making out⠀， recueil . . .

a/n. for @bywons’s on our love event and also to celebrate @cupidhoons & @sainns return ! 😚 for @atrirose because that picture showed a side of her i never saw ... read until the end i swear it’s worth it ^^

if you had to pick a favorite season, it would definitely be summer.

the sun shining bright as you wake up. the birds chirping heavenly at you window to welcome you in the morning. summer break starting. going shopping whenever you can, meeting your friends. finally stepping foot in the sand and greeting the sea after a long time being away from it. waiting for it during most of the year, there is just joy that fills your body when you can see the season peeking it’s nose — you already plan your summer’s hang outs at the end of spring.

it’s a perfect season, really. even the heat waves people tend to complain about are perfect. you always go through the most hot days of summer with a water bottle, your dear fan and the cold floor of your room you lay on during the whole day. curtains covering the window but not totally, you are almost in the dark for the entirety of your day— it’s not good for your eyes, your mom always scolds you, but you don’t care. during a weather like this, you barely do anything, anyway, if it’s not staring at the celling, though you can’t properly see it, and go to the kitchen when you need to.

this is the reason your back rest on the bare floor while you wear an oversized tee and a short right now.

today is the most hot day of the year and you doing fine, really fine even. the cold floor added to the fan hitting directly on your face prevent you from melting right then and there. you would be perfectly fine if your boyfriend didn’t erupt in your room without any sort of warnings. his tall and muscular frame appearing right in front of you, the light of the opened door he stands under showing off his biceps with his tank top perfectly, claiming that your parents let him in, before flopping right on top of you like he weighted nothing. which is far from the truth, those muscles made you let out a tiny ‘oof’ that he brushed off with a giggle.

the first ten minutes of it were fine. you fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair as his nose rested in the crook of your neck. barely any words were exchanged, too scared that your tongues would disappear into thin air if you even tried to talk. however, his weight added to the unbearable heat were threatening to be the end of you, and not in a good way.

“sunghoon,” you dare to speak, only to call your lover. he doesn’t respond entirely, only giving you a hum that vibrates on your skin. “get off of me.”

he lets out a groan. only moving to further put his nose in the crook of your neck, the tip of his nose seems to want to cut through your skin and makes a home for itself inside of your flesh. you can practically feel the sweat flooding all over your body. from your wet hair to your sticky body, the heat doesn’t spare you at all.

it is the same for sunghoon. his sweat is far from smelling bad, it reminds you of caramel and vanilla drowned in milk together. when your hands find his torso, with much difficulty, you can feel his white tank top being soaked against his pecs, can feel his muscles through the fabric, against your sweaty palms. the heat must be messing up with your brain, this feeling you feel in the pit of your stomach can’t be real. you stay still for a moment, his voice cuts through your trance like state.

“don’t be shy,” he whispers against your skin, his warmth breath sends you into a spiral. you can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks again, “you can go a little lower.”

the blush appearing all over your body must be ten times hotter than the weather out here, “w-what do you mea—” oh, his abs. you shut your mouth immediately. closing your eyes, biting your lower lip, you do everything to get yourself back on earth. this man is crashing your bones, making you melt with his body warmth and has the audacity to play with you. you push his chest, he barely budges, “get off of me.”

sunghoon stays still at your words. then, he licks his lower lips. the ghost of his tongue tickles your neck, you almost combust on the spot. another silence fills the room for a moment, only the sound of the electric fourniture sending you cold air reaches your ears. after a while, you simply accept your fate, but you swear if the summer heat wasn’t taking half of your energy, the man on top of you would already be sent flying through the window by now.

you sign, freeing your hands from between sunghoon’s chest and yours, “i’m so hot.”

these three words seem to be the only ones you needed to say for your boyfriend to finally get off of you. you can’t see him well, but the light escaping through the slightly opened curtains lets you see his face being colored by a red taint a little in the dark. he pins each of his palms next to a side of your head. he towers over you as you look at him, his wet hair hangs right above you, his breath is heavy, his face is sweaty.

still, he grins while he looks directly at you, “yes, you are.”

you want to say something back, anything. alas, your body heat gets ridiculously higher and your throat is too sore to spit out any sort of sound. the look in his gaze weights on your lips, you can’t really see is eyes properly, but you can feel lust, desire in them. a droplet of sweat lands on your cheek, you would have cringed normally, but you don’t mind this time. you can’t focus on such meaningless things when sunghoon is looking at you like that. like his whole body is craving for you.

the warmth breath you felt on your neck a moment ago gets warmer and warmer on your mouth as he leans in. he falls onto you slowly, carefully, “s’hot,” he mumbles against your lips before capturing them.

a salty feeling fills your mouths when you kiss, the sweat on your lips is somehow sweet on both of your tongues. he is soon to be all over you again, his chest meets yours as he makes a total mess of your mouth. the way his mouth moves against yours makes you go crazy, you feel yourself getting weaker and weaker, gripping onto his wet hair for dear life. somehow, the room gets even hotter and the van is only here for the fun of it. his tongue slips inside of your mouth when he tilts his head to the side slightly, it feels like he is devouring you whole, sucking your soul like a sort of vampire. it’s the first time he kisses you like that, dizzying lovesick, you surely hope it’s not the last.

suddenly, his hand finds the one of yours who is free, his skin is so hot against yours. you don’t know if it’s the summer or, just, him. he pulls away from the kiss, because, right, you have to breathe. he puts your palm against his chest, on his beating heart, the pulse is so loud that you can feel it vibrating in your entire body. he goes back to kissing you before any words can leave your mouth. his hands guides yours lower as the kiss goes, you are way too busy going crazy on him tilting his head again to put his tongue in your mouth to realize that you are now touching his abs. he lets out a shuddered sigh as your fingertips presses against his soaked top, his abs well sculpted under it, your touch captivates him, his body aches for you.

you love summer and whatever it’s heat waves makes to sunghoon’s mind.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open ⎯⎯ click

[kakushino]

hello can i get a giyuu x reader angst , like where giyuu had an argument with the reader , but it turns out the reader is pregnant? you can add any other plot twist cus i love plot twists thank you !<3

Almost

Tomioka Giyuu x Fem! Reader

He had lost a lot of people in his life by his own making. He refused to lose you too.

Tags: pregnancy, arguments, blood mention, abortion mention (no actual abortion), hurt/comfort Word count: 2k

Masterlist

AN: Hope you enjoy it! I actually had a WIP of an argument + making up before, so I got to revisit it and add the pregnancy spice you asked for hehe~ Huge thanks to my dearest beta reader @glitchtricks94 for helping me clear it up (o゜▽゜)o☆ another huge thanks to @starrierknight for brainstorming with me

Giyuu’s injuries weren’t worse than normal, but that didn’t stop you from fretting over him – especially when he had a gash on his cheek, the same cheek you kissed a week ago when he was leaving for his mission. It made your chest feel tight to see his pretty face marred by demons. Your grandmother was surely rolling in her grave that such a classical beauty was hurt, the thought spurred you on to care for him.

No detail went unnoticed under your eye. He seemed tired, as usual, and a little stressed, as usual too - just a regular morning after slaying demons.

You sat him down at a western style dining table with a medical kit and supplies to clean the cuts with next to you. Your hands shook slightly when the damp cloth wiped away grime and blood, your lips pressed together when a fresh drop of blood oozed from the wound.

“You need to be more careful,” you murmured as you worked, the statement automatic, thoughtless.

Giyuu’s whole body stiffened. “Or what?”

You froze in place, your hand dipping the cloth in warm water. This was a new tone of his – a new way words could cut you if he wanted you to hurt: it was rough, serrated, mean. “What?”

He rolled his shoulders back a little, rearing for a fight. “You heard me the first time.”

You clenched your hand, leaving the rag in the water, and turned to fully face him. “Why are you so defensive? I meant no harm,” you replied, trying to calm the storm before it fully set in.

He stood abruptly, nearly knocking the chair he had sat in over. The look he shot you sent your heart galloping in your chest, from fear or indignation, you didn’t know. “You’ve done enough. Leave me be.”

Did he like you like this? Was the hurt in your eyes enough? That was – did he like the way it glinted, the way it caught the light? Hours upon hours spent on making your suffering pretty, and perhaps now it would pay off. He could cut you down into something pretty if he wanted to, and maybe you would let him.

Before he could walk away, before he could twist the rusty blade, you rose from your seat, “I have done nothing to warrant this tone with me, Tomioka Giyuu. Now tell me-“

"Stop bothering me," he cut you off, heading towards the door.

A violent whirlpool of emotion threatened to drown you, and for once, you let go. “You- you oaf! I can’t stand you being like this! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect,” he snapped, voice like a viper and words just as stinging. “Or at least it would be if I didn’t have you nagging me every time. I’ve been through this enough to know what to do with myself. Unlike you who sits here all pretty and safe and fat, ready to wrap a bandage and call it a day.”

You flinched, for the first time in your husband’s presence, tears springing from your eyes, which you rapidly blinked away. What have I ever done to deserve this? You had waited on your hands and knees for this man every time he’d come home battered and bruised and broken and put him back together, without complaining, with love. This was what you got in return for your devotion? Pretty and useless. That’s what he basically called you.

Your throat tightened. You hardly had the energy to respond so you turned away and just… left. You couldn’t continue listening to Giyuu when he sounded so much like… like Shinazugawa. Whatever was bothering him best be left alone to cool off before you could talk about it.

You nodded to yourself as you packed an overnight bag. Some time apart would be good for you both. You knew he wouldn’t be sent out on a mission for a few days again, since he just returned from a longer stint, so you would come back tomorrow and try to resolve it then.

It was time for a check-up with a midwife anyway.

He had really said all that.

And you left.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you left, as you should. He had treated you like garbage.

There was no going back, no taking back his idiocy, no swallowing back his words.

‘Let's stop fighting’ was at the tip of his tongue. ‘Come here and let me hug you’ nearly spilled from his lips. ‘I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry’ choked him up as you walked away.

He knew you were right. You did nothing wrong.

He felt nothing.

He was worth nothing.

Giyuu picked up the shards of his heart up and finished cleaning up his wounds. A short bath later, he walked into the kitchen to find food already made for him, now long gone cold. It just reminded him how much he butchered his relationship by what – stress and tiredness? A demon taunting him right before its death? If so little shook him up, did he even deserve to be with you?

A sharp pain pierced his heart at the thought of leaving you. His selfishness truly knew no bounds, hurting you and putting you in danger for being a Hashira’s partner yet wanting you to remain by his side.

After eating his portion, he made tea and waited to see if you would join him. There was no movement in the house at all; were you in your shared bedroom, laying in bed as you were used to when upset? He would give you time to cool off, give himself time to breathe, and then he would approach you with a clearer head. He needed to apologize.

One hour. Two hours.

Had he angered you so much that you wouldn’t come out? Your spats had never lasted this long.

The tea had long grown cold, but Giyuu couldn’t bring himself to make more. There were no sounds coming from the house.

Were you even here?

The thought jolted him from his seat, quickly walking to your shared bedroom.

“Love?”

Nothing.

“I’m coming in.”

He somehow expected it, though he’d hoped against it. You weren’t there.

Already turning to check all other rooms, he called out your name. His pace was brisk, his throat starting to clog up with a familiar emotion. Claws of anxiety sunk into his stomach, his heart beat like a drum, his lungs struggled to take in air. You weren’t there.

Where were you?

He ran through the whole estate and back two times but came up with no clue as to where you were. Panic mounted, crawling up his spine like a spider he couldn’t shake away.

Giyuu slammed the gate of his home open, very nearly running into his elderly neighbour.

She was hardly phased, though confused by his frazzled visage. “Tomioka-san? What’s got you in such a hurry, young boy?”

“Have you seen my wife?!” he’d never been as rude as he was now, but you were gone so what was he supposed to do?

“Your wife? Oh, that’s right, I saw her. If I recall, she was on her visit… hmm, who was she going to visit?” his neighbour mused. Giyuu waited with all the patience Urokodaki beat into him, that was – quite impatiently. “Oh right! A midwife! I was very surprised when-“

He stopped listening, or rather, he stopped hearing anything going on around him. A midwife? A midwife was a profession with a very specific set of skills for a very specific group of people… Did that mean-?

“Isotani-san,” Giyuu interrupted, breathless, eyes wide with surprise. “Are you saying my wife is pregnant?”

She squinted at him, “You didn’t know?”

It felt as if lightning came from clear skies and struck him. Every nerve itched with some kind of energy telling him to move.

He later vaguely remembered asking his neighbour for the direction you left in, but at the time, he saw nothing, and felt everything all at once.

Were you going to… terminate it? Were you going to tell the midwife, and would she terminate it? Was the midwife going to terminate it and help you move on? Would you move on without him?

Thoughts racing, heart galloping, Giyuu felt feverish. He stumbled back, deaf to his neighbour’s concerned questions as he turned the way you had left just hours ago. One foot in front of the other, a step by step, getting faster with each meter he passed until he was running nearly as fast as Uzui, desperation spurring him on.

Kanzaburo flew overhead, and when he cleared the village bounds, he called out to get the crow to lead him to you.

Time was of the essence. He may have botched his life, but he was too selfish to let go of you. He wanted, no- needed to get you back. You were his love, his soul, his home. He wouldn’t be able to go on if you left.

He felt crazed, desperate, as he ran.

Giyuu would have been faster had he not have to follow Kanzaburo but he wouldn’t be able to find you alone. He felt as if he was racing against the time. Any minute now, you would be in a the midwife’s home, waiting for the release from his clutches; any second now, you would sever the only tactile link you had to him – your baby.

His baby.

He swore, his mind supplementing him with your argument. It had been all his fault, he’d just lashed out because of nothing, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. How childish he’d been – and he was supposed to be a father? No, he wanted to be a father. He’d fix himself and he’d support you and he’d even carry you your whole pregnancy, so you didn’t have to walk. He’d learn to cook more than the basics to feed you and your baby.

Please, let me be in time.

Then he saw you.

The whole world seemingly froze, grey and empty save for you.

You were a pearl amongst rocks, still as beautiful as the first day he saw you, as beautiful as you were on your wedding day.

Giyuu didn’t stop, even as you turned to him in surprise when he called your name. He didn’t stop until he had you in a soul-crushing hug, tight and near bruising – one he immediately eased up on, since he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Calm down, Giyuu! What’s going on?”

“D-don’t-“ he stumbled over his words, still frantic and breathing heavily, “don’t get rid of it!”

You were confused, “Get rid of what?”

His hands were heavy clutching onto your clothes, his frame nearly hanging onto you. “Our – our child,” he gasped out. “Isotani-san told me you were- she told me you were pregnant.” His words came out in a rush, eyes wide as he stared at you, his pupils darted all over your face for a sign of – of anything, be it forgiveness, anger, sadness, anything.

Looking at him in such a state, near quivering in his spot, you felt powerful. Giyuu was at your mercy for once. You could topple him as easily as a sandcastle, crush him under your boot and grind down to juice him of all that made him who he was. It made you realize you held just as much power over him as he did over you. Oddly, you felt reassured - of his love, of your love, of the relationship. 

Heart hammering in your chest, cheeks filling with warmth, the adoration you carried in your heart spilled over and pooled in your stomach. You hungered for more of this power, positively starved to sink your teeth into him and drain him.

But that could wait.

“I am indeed pregnant,” you confirmed, your hands resting on his arms, thumbs stroking soothing lines over his muscles. You paused, letting the seconds painfully stretch out, “I’m not terminating the pregnancy.”

His whole being sagged with relief. Giyuu fell to his knees in slow motion, his hands sliding down your yukata to rest over your hips, now clutching the fabric there with a weak grip. “Thank gods…” he rasped out, his breathing stuttered as if holding back sobs. “Please, love, let’s not- I apologize – I apologize for everything. I shouldn’t have lashed out. I was wrong…”

His impossibly blue eyes met yours, the surface glistening with unshed tears, his guilt bitter but his plea tasting sweet on your tongue. Saliva gathered in your mouth, wanting more.

Did that make you a bad person?

“You dismissed my concern,” you stated, fighting back any expression wanting to take over your face. “You said I nag you. You called me useless.” And pretty, your mind supplied. He’d also called you fat, so there was that. “I didn’t deserve that.”

Giyuu’s lips were downturned, “You didn’t. I was an oaf.” His admission did nothing to soothe the ache he’d given you. “I’m willing to take whatever punishment you deem worthy of my misdeeds.” He let go of your yukata, smoothing over the wrinkles he made. He didn’t know what to do with himself, trying not to fidget as you rolled his actions and words in your mind.

“There will be no punishment,” you told him. If possible, he became even more tense, the need for absolution great. Perhaps no punishment would be a punishment of itself. “But don’t think you’re entirely forgiven. I accept your apology; you however have to make up for it your own way.” You studied his earnest expression, brows slightly furrowed as he started thinking about ways to win you back. It shouldn’t be too hard. He did it once, he could do it again.

Giyuu slowly stood up, taking your hands in his. “I won’t disappoint you, love,” he said resolutely, kissing your fingertips softly. He adored you, with his whole heart, mind and body.

Everything would work out – just like the ice always melts and clouds disperse, a typhoon passes and the sea calms.

“If you pull this act again, I’m leaving.” You glared at him for a second to get your point across. Giyuu nodded and pulled you in for a sweet kiss.

He almost lost you and he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Thanks for reading! Reblog or comment if you liked it :3

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez

[lanroman]

Taking Care

first (and last) fic- wrote this a while ago, its been sitting in my docs for over a year and a half probably, i came upon it the other day and i figured... why not share?!

a fluffy one shot about reader taking care of lando after a race!

~1k words

WARNINGS: slight suggestive comments, nakedness but not in a sexual way

The car ride back to the hotel was quiet, which was slightly out of the ordinary. Race weekends were always exhausting for Lando, but he’d somehow always find the energy to talk and laugh with you up until the very moment he drifted off to sleep. And when you couldn’t be with him in person, he’d Facetime you and give you a rundown on the race for hours. But this time, he was silent. Today the whirlwind couple of weekends seemed to finally catch up to him, as the high hopes and adrenaline started to fade; he looked exhausted. Even with the exhaustion setting in, he was still sporting the same sweet smile he always did, leaning against your chest in the car's back seat. You’ve been together for about two years, but you still feel those butterflies in your stomach you got at the beginning of your relationship when looking at him even now.

You were the first one to speak up after a few minutes as you were almost to the hotel. “Who’s showering first?” You looked down at him and spoke softly. 

He perked up a bit, sitting upright, saying, “When have we ever taken turns?” He jokes as you shoot him a look and nudged his chest. He laughs and then speaks again, but his voice is low this time. “You. I’m about to crash. I’ll take one tomorrow.” He sighs rubbing his eyes, his head now leaning against the headrest.

“Baby, you have to take one tonight,” You say, running your fingers through his hair that was slightly tangled at the ends. “you’ll sleep better all cleaned up.” 

He doesn’t offer a verbal response, just a small nod of his head as he closes his eyes.

“I’m taking that as a ‘me first’.” You whisper to him as the car pulls up to the entrance of the hotel. 

You helped with his bags and was practically carrying him into the hotel and up to the room. 

After opening the door, Lando tries to break free from you and headed straight to the bed, with no luck as you drop your bags and clung to his abdomen.

“Y/N please, I’m too tired. I’ll drown.” He says in between laughs. “Baby come on, I’ll help you. I won’t let that happen.” You say directing him to the bathroom.

He sleepily plops down on top of the toilet seat as you crouch down to untie his shoes, taking them off along with his socks. You set them aside and start the water in the shower.

“Ok, arms up.” You say, grabbing the hem of his papaya shirt. He barely reaches his hands over his head as you pull it off him. He winces slightly, putting his hands down and grabbing one of his shoulders. “Lan,” Your eyebrows knit, watching the pain show and leave his face quickly in an attempt to try to hide it. Your hand goes on top of his.

“Just sore. I’m fine.” He says plainly, rolling his shoulders back. You look up at him, unsure if he was just saying that. 

He smiles and chuckles a little bit. “Really, I’m fine.” He grabs your hand that was still on his shoulder and squeezes it. “Well, tell me if it gets any worse, okay?” You said somewhat confident that we is truly fine. He nodded in response.

“Alright. Stand up.”

“I don’t think my legs will let me.” He wines.

“Your pants Lando. Unless you’d like to keep those on?” You laugh.

“I guess not.” He lets out a big sigh, standing up. You stood up too and was about to help him but he let out a weak laugh. “I think I can manage this part myself, baby.” 

“First time for everything.” You said cheekily, going to take off your shirt. He hopped in the shower first, and you followed behind him after everything was off. 

He did not get very far into his shower routine before giving up, only had body wash done by the time you were rinsing your hair. 

“I need help.” He said handing you a bottle of shampoo. You take some and gently work the product in till it bubbled, then washed it out. He let out a soft breath as your fingers went through his hair, making sure the conditioner was thoroughly massaged in. Once you finished rinsing his hair again, you grabbed both of your towels and dried yourself off before wrapping him up and walking him to the bed. 

He sat upright until you weren’t holding onto him any more. He laid down with his legs off the bed, the towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Come on, you just have to get dressed.” You say as somewhat of an encouragement, taking the opportunity to dig in your suitcase to at least put on your undergarments before helping him. 

You turn around once you were finished to see Landos eyes glued to your frame with a wide sly smile on his face.

”Please, you are wide awake, get dressed yourself.” You say, blood rushing to your cheeks, throwing some clothes at him from his suitcase. 

He lets out a chuckle and gets up from the bed walking to you. He moved your hair to the side and plants soft kisses on the back of your neck and shoulder.

“Finding some energy now, hm?” You say tilting your head to the side.

”Maybe just a little.” He lets out a big over dramatic yawn. With a shake of your head and a laugh, you continue to get dressed as he gets grabs his clothes and does the same. You pull him into the bathroom one last time to brush his teeth before he was in bed for good. You had a few more steps of your routine before you were ready for bed, so when you were finished, he was practically one breath away from being fully asleep. You crawled into bed beside him. His arms instinctively pulled you in closer and held you in a comfortable sort of hug.

He lets out a hum, “Thank you for taking care of me. And not just today.” He said barely above a whisper. 

“Of course baby. I love you.” You place a small kiss on his cheek. He smiles with his eyes still closed.

”I love you too.” 

“Goodnight sweet boy.” You said as the butterflies in your stomach flapped their wings again, lulling you to sleep.

a/n: i feel embarrassed, but thanks for reading <3 maybe throw it a like so im not so self-conscious :)

[actual-changeling]

i've been thinking about this for a hot second now and i need to inflict the psychic damage it gives me on everyone else.

we all know that aziraphale has had a taste of crowley which means he is starving for more, right? he wants him to do that again, please, right now and there's a good chance he will be the one to kiss crowley the next time. aziraphale will look at him, all golden eyes and fire-red and stardust, and push him against the next best somewhat stable surface and kiss him like a drowning man being granted a breath of fresh air.

you might think the worst thing crowley could do in that moment is fully deny him another taste, to push him away or slip out of his grasp, to not let him get close enough to do any of it in the first place.

but.

what if they end up toe to toe again like they so often do? their bodies almost touching, sharing the same air, feeling the ghost of each other's breaths.

so, so close it is not a temptation but an offering.

crowley leans in, tilts his head, and there is a challenge in his eyes - aziraphale accepts.

then, a millisecond before their lips meet, crowley steps back and watches azirapahle stumble, watches his confusion morph into a longing so intense it is pain and desperation alike. he wants to kiss him again, god, of course he does; this hurts him almost as much as it hurts his angel.

but he is angry. he is hurt. he is heartbroken and he needs him to experience even a fraction of his loneliness, his pain.

so crowley looks at him, puts his glasses back on, and shoves his hands into his pockets.

"you had your chance," is all he says, and he turns and walks away.

because if there is one thing worse than empty denial it's the promise of salvation, it's hope, it's a drop of water on your tongue as the clouds threaten to break open just for the sun to evaporate them all and leave you alone in the desert.

aziraphale wants and crowley gives him just enough to break him when he leaves.

(just like he left him)

[redbullgirly]

Hi! Can you write something about Lando x reader where she wants to wait till marriage to have sex and how'd he react to this? I'll leave the rest to you, it doesn't have to be a whole fic, maybe just a small blurb. Thank you <3

SAND AND CONFESSION [LN4 oneshot]

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: You and Lando have been going out for few weeks, maybe months now. While you're enjoying each other's company on a beach with sunset behind your backs, you decide to tell him you want to wait with sex till marriage.

Word Count: 0.8k

Warnings: English isn't my first language and I honestly didn't write for a while, so if some sentences are kinda weird or sloppy, I'm very sorry! Don't be afraid to correct me if you find some errors.

Author's Note: Hi Anon, thanks for the request! I hope you and everybody else will like this shorter fic I wrote based on it. I'll appreciate likes, comments, follows, reblogs and any other form of support! :)

The sand beneath your feet was still warm, though the sun had almost set behind the fluffy clouds on the horizon. You ran up the beach, trying to get as far from the sea as you could, before the curly-haired man could throw you into the waves, messing up your hair. He followed you, laughing and almost tripping, which was probably the only reason you actually managed to escape to the laid out blanket with your things and bags.

You laid on it, your chest covered in droplets of salty water heaving with uneven breaths. Some sand probably stuck to your wet skin, but you didn't mind.

“Y/N, you left me there all alone!” Lando faked a pout, standing above you with crossed arms and a silly smile.

“Yeah, 'cause you tried to drown me!” you fired right back and stuck out your tongue.

He shook his head and stretched out his arm, helping you stand back up. Then, without any warning, he slapped your ass. You squealed his name and tried to punch him, but he dodged effortlessly. May his fast reflexes be damned.

It was getting darker by every minute, the sun now nearly gone from the evening sky. Shadows slowly crept to the beach, and you shivered in the cool air. Lando, the caring boy he was, instantly noticed the goosebumps popping up all over your body. You were both still just in your swimsuits, and it was getting cold. 

He bent down to the bag you took to the beach with you and took out a big towel. “C'mere baby,” he mumbled, and when you took a step towards him, he wrapped you and himself up in it. 

Suddenly, you didn't feel cold at all — quite the opposite, really. Lando's firm body was pressed against you, his hands around your waist and faces impossibly close to each other. You could feel his warm breath, smelling after the vanilla milkshake you drank at a cozy café before going to the private beach.

One of his big hands cupped your cheek, your eyes locked in with his intense blue stare. Lando and you were going out for a few weeks, even months now. You didn't put any label on it, maybe too afraid of the feelings that bubbled in your stomach every time that exact expression appeared in his eyes. The one of pure adoration and happiness, as if you'd give him the Moon. And honestly? If he ever asked, you probably would. Or at least try.

As if the boy could read your thoughts, his smile deepened, and he finally closed the remaining distance between you two. His lips felt soft and hard against yours at the same time, asking and demanding all at once. Lando was always careful at the start, but as soon as your body relaxed, and you gently bit his bottom lip, the kiss heated up pretty quickly.

He moaned into your mouth and his hold on your waist tightened. This wasn't your first time making out, but it never felt so intense, so breathtaking before. You struggled to keep pace with him, though you'd lie if you said you didn't like it. However, when his hands slipped under the towel that was still wrapped around your bodies, and tugged onto your bikini straps, you pulled away. Your cheeks were flushed, lips swollen and hair messy.

He stopped, furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and looked at you questioningly, eyes wide. You realized Lando thought he did something wrong, again. And that made you feel even worse than before.

“What's wrong, babe?” he asked in a quiet voice, his hand still cupping the side of your cheek. You wanted to look down, ashamed and not knowing how to say what had to be said, but Lando didn't let you. “You can tell me Y/N. I won't be angry or anything.”

It was his assurance and sweet voice that caused you to sight and swallow thickly.

“I… there's something I need to tell you,” you whispered. He just nodded, listening curiously. “So, I feel weird saying it, but… I never actually… you know.” You point between you and him. “I never did this before,” you confess, not able to look him into the eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “That's no problem at all-” You put your finger on his lips, silently asking him to be quiet.

“And,” you say, making him know that's not all you wanted to say, “I don't want to. Not until marriage.”

Now he seems surprised, taken aback even. It's clear he's processing your words for a moment, while you almost faint from the nerves. You're worried he won't understand. That now, when you told him he won't get what most men want, he'll break up whatever you two have going on.

But he does nothing like that. No, he nods slowly, a little smile tugging at the corners of his lips. A smile that soon turns into the grin you know so well by this point. And then, Lando pulls you closer and whispers in your ear: “Well, good thing I plan on marrying you one day.”

And even though he says it in a joking voice, wanting to lighten up the atmosphere, you know right there and then that deep down, he means it.

THE END

[florencemtrash]

Please remember me - Azriel x Reader

Ok but just imagine how heartbroken Az would be if he lost the woman he loved, but when the Cauldron brings her back, she doesn't have any memories of him.

It's after midnight and I'm feeling things...

___________________

You broke through the frigid darkness, something fragmenting beneath your fingers into a million sharp pieces as you wrenched your body up and gasped for breath.

Freezing. You were freezing to death in a pool of water. Or so you thought. Weak, uncooperative limbs flung over the lip of the pool, rough skin grabbing hold of you. You spilled out of the Cauldron into Azriel's waiting arms, and he wasted no time in burying his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your familiar scent no longer tainted bitter and metallic by blood.

"Thank the gods. Y/n. I thought... I thought I lost you. Y/n. Y/n." He whispered your name over and over. A word more precious than the holiest of prayers.

You basked in the safety of his arms, the strength in the hands that gripped your hip and cradled the back of your head. That feeling of safety didn't go away when the stranger pulled back, molten hazel eyes staring into yours. He was the most beautiful male you'd ever seen. A face composed of graceful lines broken up by the tragic pain in his eyes, the tears that traced a path down his cheeks, the pained smile. He looked at you the way mates did in all the stories you'd read. Like holding you was the same as holding the world in his palms.

But when he kissed you, stealing the breath from your lungs like he was the one that had nearly drowned, you knew you needed to put a stop to this. One hand on his chest, the faintest hesitation on your lips, was all it took for him to pull away, eyes searching your body for any sign of hurt.

"Y/n? What is it? What's wrong, love?"

You hesitated. Your name was familiar on his lips, like it belonged there, like it belonged to him. But none of that changed the fact that you had no idea who this raven-haired male was.

"I-I don't..." You didn't want to say it. Didn't want to break the look of hope and relief on his face.

"Y/n?"

You finally noticed the small collection of fae behind him. A striking female with silver-tinted eyes beside a male as strong and wide as a mountain, Illyrian wings held tight against his spine like a notched arrow. A male and female, clearly mated, looking like figures carved from the fabric of the night sky. A female in red with golden-blond hair and doe-brown eyes. All of them weeping, or wiping away tears from red-rimmed eyes.

"Y/n? Please, look at me." Azriel begged, "Please." He whispered, feeling the tension in your body and the panic in your eyes, "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

When your eyes slid back to him, his heart plummeted in his chest, nose diving faster than he'd ever fallen in his life. He knew what words would tumble off your tongue before you said them. The confusion in your eyes spoke volumes.

"I don't... I don't know you."

The room stilled, voices trapped in everyone's throats along with their breath, and Azriel's hope shattered into a million pieces.

[aspergerasparagus]

I have an Milkshake idea for you What if one day

the contestant has a fever and frankie Take care of him And in a scene frankie cuddling and nuzzling the sick contestant While frankie does purred like a cat.

frankie drown the contestant with affection Because frankie knows a golden opportunity when he gets one.

of course The contestant must be healthy For better show performance

But at the same time this gives him an excuse to cuddling and nuzzling the contestant

Typically Frankie didn’t need to wake his little contestant up. They were usually already awake and dressed when he came to collect them so it was an unusual sight to see them still buried under the covers when he arrived. Tutting he sauntered over, expecting to yank the poor man out of his bed and scold him for sleeping in but he caught himself as he reached for the sheets. Lucky was curled up, his breath laboured as his whole body shivered beneath the thick covers. Leaning down he gently slipped the mask from their face, something he wouldn’t have condoned but the circumstances needed him to bend the rules slightly. The man’s face was flushed, his forehead stained with sweat. Sighing Frankie pushed their bangs away as he placed his forehead against theirs, the man was burning up. The action was enough to finally cause Lucky to stir, his eyes snapping open as he was greeted by the rabbit so close to his face.

“F-Frankie?! What the hell, are you trying to kill me?” The sudden outburst made Lucky clutch his head whining, finally remembering just how sick he was as a wave of nausea came over him.

“You know the answer to that already but for now I guess I’ll have to do the reverse. You’ve gotten sick somehow. Maybe something you’ve eaten? It’s not like anyone here could give you something…”

“The whole facility is covered in corpses, you stupid rabbit…” Ah, yes. Frankie was used to the corpses that had been mounting up through the years as it wasn’t like any of them had to worry about them but with a living human amongst them it had only been a matter of time before he contracted something. He’d have to make a note to maybe get rid of a few of them in the incinerator when Lucky was better.

Clearing his throat the rabbit tried to other the man a sympathetic look which only earned him a weak scowl in return. 

“Well yes, that was… an oversight of mine. I’ll rectify it in time but for now let’s focus on getting you fighting fit again. I can’t have my star dying on me before the next season.” Lucky just gave him a look of displeasure at the mere thought of Frankie looking after him. Rude.

“Can you just leave me to die in peace? I don’t want you of all people caring for me.” 

“Absolutely not. You’re worth too much for me to lose you to some stupid fever. So put on your big boy pants and stop complaining. And besides don’t couples dote on one another in their partners time of need?~” The voice change and implication of a relationship between them just made Lucky groan and crawl back under the covers as he tried to go back to sleep.

“Please kill me…”

After collecting some medicine (Lucky insisted on checking it all, even after Frankie said it was fine) and some water, Frankie had managed to get him settled back under the covers. He still looked terrible but luckily whatever energy he did previously had had finally run out and he couldn’t deny the rabbit’s help any longer. Which did give Frankie an idea. It wasn’t like he’d have this opportunity again so without asking he crawled hid way onto the other side of Lucky’s bed.

“You have got to be kidding me…” Lucky was far too weak by now and with the medicine kicking in he was powerless as Frankie pulled him against his chest and buried his face against his little contestant’s hair.

“I heard cuddling can assist in speeding up healing, plus it’s not like you can do anything to stop me~”

“If I could, I would strangle you.”

“Oooh naughty, save that for when you're better and I might let you~” Lucky just shot him a look as Frankie chuckled, but he couldn’t find the energy to fight back right now.

“Shut up and just let me sleep. You can do… whatever this is just make sure I have more water and meds for when I wake up.” Purring, Frankie snuggled closer as Lucky finally began to drift off again.

“Of course, I’d do anything for you sweetheart just rest and heal up okay~!” Frankie could only giggle as he received a weak punch to his chest before Lucky finally passed out in his arms.

[diejager]

hii!! just so you understand, I have real brainrot because of your “Only Human” series! I love it madly tenderly and with all my heart😭😭 anyway, I saw that you have requests open, but feel free to ignore if this is not the case or I indicated something incorrectly. how about our favorite monsters and hybrids 141 with a new member of the team who is a witch??

also, sorry for my english, I use google translate☠️

Hey, no worries, I understood your request!

Spell Cw: witchy stuff, death, murder, drowning, blood and injury, fluff, magic, inaccurate understanding of magic, tell me if I missed any.

He always found it mesmerising, the soothing coldness of your spell working its magic on him, gleaming like water embracing his bleeding wound, the skin ripped apart at the middle and flesh throbbing painfully. It wasn’t anything new, pain wasn’t a stranger to him, rather a friend, a brother to him. Pain was a repetitive thing in his life, wound after wound bleeding him, and scar after scar painting his skin, he’d gotten so used to it that the stripes on his face were now an integral part of his identity, pushing the facade of a tiger if he didn’t have his ears and tail out.

But with you, everything had smoothed over to a soft thrum, like the warm waves cradling his shifted body, your magic, attuned to their aches through your bond and being, worked to cure everything to ensure that the pack he grew to love and care for stayed safe. Your being was like a body of water - the ocean - a beauty of nature when calm, but a terror when enraged, storms crashing against land and causing devastation in moments of fury. You were as dangerous as you could be caring and loving —just like the sea.

“Why didn’t you come see me first?” You sighed, tone laced with amused disappointment, brows tensed but your pretty lips quipped up, “I thought I put you in control of this Horangi…”

You worked your magic on König, fingers weaving invisible threads over his bleeding forearm, pulling the strings of puppet of flesh and bone, controlling the sinuous fibre of his skin to sew itself back. Horangi watched his friend’s wound steadily close up, injury shrinking with every pull of your finger until all that was left was the lingering scent of your cool magic and the metallic odour of blood.

“König is stubborn, ” Horangi chuckled, flashing you a sly smirk despite your exasperated expression, “Big too. I can’t move him.”

“And I can?” You scoffed, finishing off your skin weaving with a soft pet on his arm, letting König admire your work like a child with a new toy even though you’d gone through the same process over and over in the past, König had a habit of collecting scars as often as he toppled his enemies.

Your magic wasn’t only used in healing, you were an adaptive soul, your comfort found itself in water, and water meant life, and life meant whatever violent fury came along with quiet calmness. And in the right situation, where Laswell sent the Task Force on a boat or by the shore, you could level the oceans at your will in anger or protection. You gave men and women a watery grave on land, drowning them in their water-made coffins to stop them from reaching your wounded comrades, glaring off at anyone who tried approaching your cover .

You had Gaz, Price and him, tending to their deeper injuries and letting them use their first aid while you kept the enemy at bay, lower lip pulled between your teeth, gnawing on the skin until it bled. Separating your attention for both healing and defence/offence demanded a lot of concentration, especially when you were sewing up Price’s deep gash on his leg, listening to his hiss and groans of pain.

“Fucking-” Horangi busied himself with wrapping the bandage and gauze over Gaz’s wound, his eyes occasionally peeking at your clenched fist that pushed out your anger through the waters you controlled, “Bastards keep coming.”

You were a puppet queen and the sea your mannequin.

“Almost done, Hunter,” Gaz hissed out when Horangi pulled too tightly on his bandage, sending you a reassuring look to calm down your raised hackle, teeth bared and eyes burning the enemies alive as much as you were depriving them of air.

This was another show of your prowess, your fingers puppeteering water, commanding it and coaxing the water’s will to follow your call, heeding your every whim. It was a majestically show, as tragic as it was beautiful, much like the cleansing of the world when the oceans flooded Earth, leaving but Noah and his wife, and couple of animals to remake the land. You were remaking the land you fought on in an imagine, to make it safer and protect them —it would tire you out for the day, Horangi will ready to help you with anything wile you doze on and off.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah

[ratsonastick]

Clarisse with a mermaid/lake protector girlfriend? as if they were talked about a lot by the reader only appearing to talk to her or when Chiron called her, however she manages to transform into a human, and she doesn't talk to anyone other than Clarisse because she is shy and also doesn't like demigods ( except Clarisse, of course)

Lakeside

Clarisse La Rue x FemMermaid!Reader

A/N- I hope this is close to what you wanted!

Requests Remain Open

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Clarisse has never liked the lake, it reminded her of too much and she could never sit down and focus because of the many sounds. 

But one day she spotted something stepping out and walking towards the shore and she became curious. At first, she thought it was another camper, but then she noticed how you had a different type of shine to your body. 

She drew a dagger from her pants and crept forward thinking it was a monster that had split in. Taking shallow breaths she approached you. When she stepped on a branch and broke it she mentally cursed at herself as you turned to look at her with fright. 

You quickly ran back into the water, your skin merging and forming what looked like a tail. Clarisse had heard of you, a myth around camp that she never believed. 

You were the protector of the camp lake, saving drowning children and whatnot. Aphrodite cursed you for loving one of her children. It was said that the girl had asked her mother to get you to leave her alone and this was the first thought.

What was meant to make you ugly, simply only made you more beautiful – or that's what Clarisse thought 

She heard Chiron make an announcement once about leaving trash around the lake, saying the living species were getting upset. She didn't realize it was you they were upsetting. 

Once she left she still had the curiosity to see you again, she asked her siblings if they had seen anything like you but they all just brushed her away. 

So she left it up to herself to find you again. 

She went at the same time she did the day before, this time she went slower, being careful not to scare you. 

She spotted you once again, you had small fabric pieces covering you, and vines, necklaces, and bracelets decorated you adding to the shine of your skin. 

And most importantly you had legs again. 

The night before Clarisse had asked Chiron about you. He told her that you do exist, but you dislike demigods – or any type of god really because of your past. So if she were able to get to you then he would be amazed. 

She wanted to get to you … boy did she want to. 

She walked over the pebbles and cleared her throat, you placed your hands on the ground to quickly stand up but she put her hands up trying to show that she wasn't a threat. 

“I'm Clarisse” she spoke softly, taking a step forward. “What do you want?” You asked in a soft and shy voice which surprised her. 

Clarisse shrugged her shoulders, not even sure what her reasoning was, she just felt drawn to you. “I haven't seen you before.” 

“Good” You answered, simple and plain, not wanting to add more as you took another step away from her. “You're afraid of me?” Clarisse asked, but it came out more as a statement. 

You scoffed turning to face her “No … I hate you.” 

“You don't know me.” Clarisse challenged, if there was one thing Clarisse hated, it was losing a challenge. 

“I've heard the children speak from the boats, they are afraid of you,” you spoke softly, but there was a certain sternness in it that made Clarisse’s heart pump. 

“I’m sorry … but that is simply the way I am. Mean. But I will be nice to you … I’ll try.” Clarisse found herself apologizing for no reason, her shoulders kinda shrugged and she had a straight face. 

It wasn't long until she convinced you to sit down with her, and eventually, she got you laughing. Clarisse was still her anger-driven self, but she mellowed down when she was near you, bringing out a more flirtatious side of her. 

After a few weeks, another camper noticed the two of you talking, and when Clarisse was questioned she gave them an aggressive look and told them to ‘back off’ and that you were not theirs to know about. 

She wanted you to socialize with others, to get over your hatred towards others, but at the same time, she liked having you all to herself. She couldn't help it but it was in her blood to be selfish. 

So the day when she saw you talking to another camper she lost it. She stormed up to the two of you and watched as you stroked the kid's back. “What the hell is going on?” Clarisse pretty much growled at you. 

But the look you gave her was unphased, and that made her even more annoyed. Her arms were crossed as she looked down at the two of you. “He was drowning … it's my job to save the children.” You spoke softly looking back at the kid. 

When Clarisse walked around the kid to see his face, she noticed the snot rolling down his nose and how he was drenched. She felt stupid, but to keep up her strong act she rolled her eyes “You're fine, now get lost.” She told the kid, tilting her head towards the cabins so he would get the hint. 

The little kid who was terrified of Clarisse got up and stumbled away. 

Clarisse watched the kid leave and then turned to face you as you stood up, “You let your imagination control you.” you spoke softly meeting her gaze, “Nothing controls me.” 

“Except for your anger and jealousy.” 

Clarisse scoffed and shook her head “Whatever I'm leaving.” 

“Don't,” you called out to her as she was already walking away, she stopped and swung her foot so it almost twirled her body for her.  She stopped, still a distance away from you as she waited for something else. 

“You're my only friend … I want your company.” You admitted for the first time since she started talking to you. Clarisse couldn't help but smile, so she looked down trying to whip off the smirk and play it cool. 

“Fine only because you are so sweet.” She teased, but she was gonna stay anyway, whether you wanted her to or not. 

She sat down and you followed her, you shyly scooted your hand towards hers, still afraid that Clarisse might get angry and curse you, like that camper had done in the past. 

But Clarisse smiled and took it, letting her hand interlock with yours, feeling your skin and how your hand was so smooth compared to hers. 

You sat together in silence, Clarisse drew patterns into your skin with her thumb, enjoying how you felt, and for the first time, she enjoyed sitting by the water. 

[ponyosmom35]

he's gone

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

synopsis: reader finds out that Simon passed when Price, Johnny, and Gaz show up at her house.

warnings: angst, death, PTSD, panic attack, crying, I'm so sorry

Link to master list:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

She holds her hose tightly in her hand as she sprays her blooming flowers with water. The sun was beginning to set and she felt at peace. Allowing her mind to wash away the stress of the day. The sunlight hits her face and she sighs, imaging that somewhere in the world, Simon was looking at the same beautiful sky. She recalled their conversation earlier that day, a small smile coming to her lips as she remembered his voice. 

She stood in the kitchen, intensely focused on her measuring cup as she attempted to fill it with the correct amount of water. She turns off the water after allowing it to reach ⅓ and carefully moves over to her mixing bowl. She dumps the water in and moves the mixer down, flipping the switch and watching as her kitchen aid whips the cake mix together. The loud noise drowns out the sound of her phone ringing and she carries on. A few minutes later she finishes putting the batter into a pan and throws it into the oven, hoping that a lemon cake would distract her from how much she missed Simon. She looks down at her small ragdoll kitten who plays with her feet and laughs, she picks him up and kisses his little face gently. Still deciding how she was gonna come clean about adopting a pet without permission. 

It had been two weeks since he’d gone. So far she’d been doing better than she expected, managing to keep herself quite busy all day. It was the nights that were the hardest. She struggled to sleep without him. She tried to pretend like her body pillow was the same, but nothing could beat the feeling of his arms wrapped around her. When she came across a post about the little guy needing a home, she volunteered without a second thought. 

He was quite good about calling, he would try to call every other day when in between missions. But as they got new intel he wouldn’t be able to reach out for several days at a time. This week she had not heard from him once. She knew he was going on their first mission.  She worried about him, she knew that he could handle himself, better than anyone in the world. 

She picks up her phone to set a timer when she realizes she’d missed his call. Her heart drops and she calls him back instantly. 

“Si?” she asks anxiously 

“Hi my love” 

“Oh thank god, I thought something may have happened. I’m so sorry I didn’t hear my phone I was baking and it was on silent” 

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t expect you to pick up every time I call”

“Of course I will” she says 

“How are you doing darling?”

“I’m doing good, I decided to bake a cake for whatever reason” she says staring at the mess of flower and egg shells on the counter.

Simon chuckles and leans back in his chair as he imagines her in the kitchen trying to bake. Tears fill his eyes and he attempts to keep his voice steady.

“Is my kitchen still standing?” he asks

“The kitchen smells wonderful thank you very much” she responds 

“What have you been up to this week? Catch me up” 

“I wanna talk about you, where have you been the past week? Are you any closer to coming home? How are you doing? How are the boys?” she says rapid firing her questions 

“We’re all good. But I don’t wanna talk about work, tell me about you distract me” 

She nods to herself, understanding that he didn’t want to talk about it, meaning that their mission didn’t go as planned. “What do you want me to talk about?”

“just talk to me baby, anything” 

“Well it’s been pretty gloomy today so I started reading a new book, it’s about grief. I’ve only read a few chapters but so far it’s been very reassuring and comforting to know that grief isn’t linear, you go through ups and downs just like anything else”

“That sounds wonderful love” 

“Yeah, so I’m gonna try and read for a few minutes everyday. Kylie and I have started a jazzercise class, you should see how awful I am. I can’t look at myself in the mirror because in my mind I’m absolutely killing it, but then I look at the mirror and it looks like i’m half dead” she laughs 

“I’d pay anything to see it” 

“Don’t worry, when you come home you’re gonna get a full performance” she promises, causing him to laugh. The lump in his throat is tightening as the tears fall down his cheeks. He runs his hands through his hair and covers the speaker as he sniffles. 

“I’m counting down the minutes” 

“Me too” she muses “so I think we should get a cat” 

“What?” he asks

“Let me rephrase that, I brought home a kitten last week”

“Did you now?” he chuckles 

“Before you freak out, he’s so cute and cuddly, he was abandoned and my friend found him but she couldn't take care of him, I just had to bring him home!” she defends herself 

“I’m not mad love, I’m glad you’ve got someone to keep you company. What's his name?”

“Junie”

“Why Junie?” 

“Because june is the month we met” she admits 

Simon puts the phone down and covers his face. His heart was crushing at her words. He receives a knock on the door, he wipes his eyes and picks the phone back up. “I love it”

“We’re about an hour out from departure, so I’m gonna have to let you go” he says slipping his mask over his face.

“Okay, please be safe”

“I love you more than anything in this world, take care of yourself okay?” 

“Of course Si, I love you too, call me as soon as you can”

“goodbye love” he says before hanging up the phone. 

She noticed his odd behavior that morning, but decided to let it go to prevent any unnecessary anxiety. She finishes watering the plants and turns off the hose. She walks to the steps and heads inside. She shuts the door, making sure to lock the door as well as placing the wood down to prevent it from being opened easily. She slips off her shoes and smiles at the sight of Junie sitting on the counter. She picks him up and holds him close. The sound of a knock at the door catches her attention. She wasn’t aware of any company. She walks over to the door and opens it to see John, Kyle, and Johnny. Her eyes travel to the British flag held in John’s hands and her smile falls.  

“John?” she asks as her brain struggles to process the situation. 

“y/n-”

“Don’t you dare” she warns holding her hand up to stop him “don’t” 

“He’s gone lass” Johnny says, his teary eyes meeting her own. She shakes her head and glares at him. 

“I just talked to him this morning” she refuses 

“Mission was local, went south and we barely got out. We came here as soon as we could” 

“What happened to him?” she asks, crossing her arms, clearly still in shock from the news.

“Can we come in?” John asks, she nods and leads them into the living room where they sit and she remains standing. 

“Tell me john” 

“Why don’t you sit down” he responds 

“I want to know what happened!” she demands 

“He was hit” Kyle says 

“Where?” she asks, Price shakes his head and stands up, moving over to her and placing the flag in her hands. She notices the tags placed neatly in the center of it and she reads his printed name. She looks up at him as tears fill her eyes. 

“He’s not gone, I just talked to him today! He was telling me not to burn the kitchen down -” she cuts herself off with a sob, and holds her hand to her mouth. “We’re getting married in four months”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, I-I wish I could’ve saved him” Price says gently

“Please don’t say that” she begs

“Is there anyone we can call for you?” he asks gently 

“Stop this john I can’t - I can’t” she says setting his things down on the table as she looks out of the window. Tears stream down her face as she attempts to control her breathing. 

“These are for you” Johnny says, handing her a bundle of letters, each of them addressed to her. There is a small box on the top of the pile. 

Her vision blurs at the sight of his handwriting. Her body becomes weak as two words loop in her mind. Her body falls to the floor as the voices of the three men fade away. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone. The man she loved with every fiber of her being. Her Simon. Simon who nearly killed the person who disrespected her. Simon who held her when her sister died. Simon who saved her life. Simon, who built her a bookshelf, redid her entire deck and porch. Never again would he give her one of his bear hugs. She wouldn’t hear his beautiful laugh, or watch the way he separated his food to keep it from touching. No more early morning cuddles, kisses, silly arguments. How would she live without him? What she wouldn’t have given to hear his deep voice in that moment, telling her that it was going to be okay. He couldn't. He was gone. 

She was inconsolable, her heart wrenching sobs echoed through the house. Bringing tears to the eyes of the soldiers surrounding her. Johnny was at her side, holding her shaking body, trying his best to bring her even the smallest bit of comfort. He felt sick to his stomach watching her writhe in pain. 

John had called her parents and the trio waitied with her until they arrived. As soon as John opened the door, they recognized him from the day he brought the news about Emma. Her mother gasps and hurries into the house, seeing her daughter crumpled on the ground, agonizing sobs erupting from her lungs. She drops beside her and rubs her back. Her father shakes Johns hand and walks the soldiers to the door. John pulls him outside and informs him the the truth. 

“Sir, we need you to understand that the work we do is classified, in the eyes of the Government we do not exist unless we’re needed. With a job like this, comes sacrifices we have to make to protect the people we love”

“I’m not following? What sacrifices?” her father says, crossing his arms 

“If one of the people we’re investigating finds any bit of information about out lives or our loved ones then they’d be in danger”

“Are you telling me that my family isn’t safe?” 

“Officially I can’t tell you anything, but you need to know that we’re taking care of the situation, you’re family will be under 24/7 surveillance. You won’t even know they’re around” 

“Is it true then? Is Simon really gone? Man to man, is he gone?” her father asks, staring at Price. 

“For now” he responds “it’s imperative that y/n believes this”

“You’re asking me to lie to my daughter? Do you hear her in there? How can I-”

“Sacrifices, we all have to make them in order to keep our family safe. That’s all we’re doing here” Price shakes his hand and walks down the steps “take care of her, we’ll be checking in”

-

After hours of tossing and turning, crying until her lungs and throat burned she finally decides to get out of the warmth of her bed. A place she used to feel the most comfortable, now was empty. She rubs her hands over her face as her headache grows more intense, the lack of sleep already affecting her. Having woken up multiple times from nightmares, she willed herself to stay awake, to protect her fragile heart from the horror of her dreams. Everyday for the past week she’d been reminding herself that dreams are simply just a reflection of the mind, a way for her worries and fears to be shown. It wasn’t real. He wasn’t gone. This couldn’t be true. Simon wouldn't leave her. 

She moves into the bathroom and stares at herself in the mirror, she looks exhausted. The weight of Simon’s absence is evident on her face. Her face was puffy and her hair was tangled. A mixture of tears, saliva, and mucus coated her face. She wipes it off and sighs. Her lips trembling once more as her eyes fill with tears. She grips onto her hair as she tries to breath through her fourth panic attack in 24 hours. Memories of his hands running through her hair flash through her mind. A wave of nausea runs through her and she stares at it in disgust. He always loved her hair, he’d play with it absentmindedly. She was angry. How as she supposed to live with the hair he would kiss every morning, the hair he gripped when he kissed her passionately. She notices the scissors on the counter and grabs them, without hesitation she begins to cut strips of her hair off. She watches as her gorgeous strands fall, some in the sink, others landing on the ground. She sobs as she ruins her hair, unable to stop herself. After several minutes, she drops the scissors and stares at herself, the jagged strands unbalanced. She rushes to the toilet in a split second and empties her stomach violently. 

The sound causes her mother to rush into her room, she bursts through the door and spots her daughter laying against the toilet surrounded by her precious locks. “Oh honey”

-

please forgive me for this! omg I made myself cry. below is the link to when they reunite, I posted this a few months ago. If you wanna read that now, you are more than welcome I'll link it below, however there will be a few filler chapters in-between that I'll be posting!!!

You’re alive? (middle of MW3)

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/724654294153003008/youre-alive?source=share

love you all <3

[pxtched]

ok so this head has been rotting in my head and i think its time to let it free.

so pirate!miguel stumbles on siren!reader's territory by accident bc his ship got wrecked and he was sorta the only left of his crew (u can change that if u want ofc) and siren!reader saves him cus she wants to know if any other man is gonna come so she can prepare herself for a future attack. he wakes up by mouth to mouth but he doesnt realise until siren!reader herself says something about it. the rest you can decide.

i love ur fics sm! stay hydrated!<33

𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞

╰ Pirate!miguel x Fem!siren!reader.

╰ angst, death, slowly gaining trust then immediate betrayal, (not really…)

AN: this is so short I’m SO SORRY, thank you for letting it free!! Thank you for requesting and hope this is to your liking!

Miguel ohara.

That was a name that was well known, feared, and one of the strongest captains and have one of the most strongest crew in the sea. Get attacked by him? You’re dead, you aren’t making it out alive.

He’s listening to his crew mate talks about sirens, saying how they are worth a lot and they should go hunting for one! Miguel instantly rejected the idea, saying it’s a waste of time.

Miguel never really believed in sirens, he thought it was some tale to scare kids and to make pirates like him search endlessly for them.

“Awh c’mon!” “No Peter, It’s just a waste of time and resources.” “You are like probably the only captain that dosent believe in sirens” “Because I’m not stupid.”

He remembers helping another crew hunt a siren but never even saw it, nor heard it. Miguel scoffed at the fact he wasted his time helping someone hunt for something that probably wasn’t even real.

But now? He believes, he saw one. He even looked at one. Talked to one.

Miguel felt like he had a fever dream, he doesn’t know how to put it into words that what happened in that day was real and not some random dream.

He’s not even on his ship anymore, not his crew, just some random people. He dosent know what happened to his crew mates but just assumed the worst.

It happened so suddenly, He was sailing on the ocean on his ship with his crew mates. Laughing and just having fun. When he least expected it, the tides got rough, the waves got higher and it was stormy too.

The last thing he saw before passing out was a massive wave, All he remembers is feeling the impact and then black.

His ship wrecked god knows where, His crew mates most likely dead sinking down in the same ocean but different area than Miguel. Miguel was drowning alone.

Until you saw him, You noticed him sinking down. Your first thought was free food but then you realized who he is. He’s a pirate. The same ones who try’s to hunt your kind. You scowl at this discovery but you soon realized he’s alone, his ship is gone too.

You could get information if there’s any attacks coming, their weaknesses and then kill him.

So, you save him. Grabbing his body, stopping him from dying and throwing him on the shore. you look at his body, you recognize that symbol that’s on his chest...your eyes widened, you grit your teeth as the grip on him tightened.

This was the Captain that helped that crew hunt your kind. Yeah, you are going to kill this man afterwards.

You give him CPR, isn’t working. So you give him mouth to mouth. Soon enough he’s awake sitting up immediately, coughing up some water. He looks at you, looks around. He’s at some random island as some lady saved him.

“What do you want from me? Is there anyone else coming? Is there going to be future attacks I don’t know about?” You immediately question him.

He looks at you once again in confusion and opens his mouth to answer but his mouth closed then his jaw went slack as his eyes widened in horror as he realizes that you aren’t a human but a siren.

He frantically searches for his cutlass but you hold it in front of him “looking for this?” You say as you toss it in the water. He looks at it sink I the water then looks back at you in fear but regain his composure.

“I don’t mean any harm, I didn’t even know—“ you scoffed, not believing his words “Oh cut the bullshit, answer my questions now.” You demanded him.

You get closer to him narrowing your eyes at him as he backs up “Is there going to be any men attacking me? Is there going to be people trying to hunt me down?” You questioned him once again.

“I’m being truthful, I don’t know. I didn’t hear anything about people looking for you. I don’t mean harm, You can see that my crew mates are not here most likely dead. My ship is wrecked. So please trust me.” He pleads, you glare at him and backed off.

“Why would i ever believe a pirate Like you?” You sneered at him, and he sighed “Please, I’m alone. You have my word.” He pleads once again. You look at him trying to see if he’s trying to trick you but you don’t see any malice in his eyes.

You decided to trust him, you felt bad for him. And you especially know how it is to be alone so, you just nodded and point your head to the island “There’s some food there, You Can stay” you tell him and you swam away in the water.

He smiled and began to explore the island, trying to see what he can work with for the time being. He can deal with this, He is a bit shaken up that he just talked to a siren.

As time went by, you guys respected your guys space. Staying away from eachother…which was actually you avoiding him because you still hated him.

But after a couple of days, you talked to him more. Making short and awkward small talks but it’s something!

Now Miguel sits at the shore, looking at the water as he searches for you. He notices your eyes staring at him back and he’s a bit startled but he offers his hand to you, you swim up to him and take his hand.

“Yes?” You say, tilting your head. He smiled at you and puts an apple in your hand “Here, I don’t really know what you eat and i don’t want you to still hate me” you eyes widened at his kindness.

You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit “you don’t do your research?” You say as you take a bite of the apple, usually you’ll just eat whatever is in the sea or sailors but sometimes an apple wouldn’t hurt.

He shakes his head “No, I don’t focus on stuff like that. I just focus on where I’m going, why, and the safety.” He admits honestly, you raise and eyebrow at him being a bit skeptical of him.

“You were there helping another pirate hunt my kind” you pointed out and he sighed “you think I wanted too? It was a waste of my time and my resources. Even after that I didn’t believe”

You smile. Maybe he isn’t half bad “Realized I never got your name, What is your name?” You asked him.

He smiles, knowing he’s getting on good terms with you “Miguel, Miguel ohara” and he offered you a handshake, you give him a handshake.

“you aren’t that bad Miguel, I thought you were going to kill me or send men my way” you joked and he shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t either way, why would i crash my ship risk my teammates life and my own! just for a chance to get you?” He asks and you thought about it. Huh, he was right. “Dunno, people are desperate.” You shrugged and he laughed.

“True, true. I see pirates fight all the time and I don’t get why!” He says while eating some berrys, You didn’t even notice but he was halfway in the water. “So, how’s the pirate life been?” You asked him.

“It’s…Something alright, it’s always shocking something. Everyday is an adventure and I…had my crew mates with me, it was fun and I miss it. I miss their laughter, and…everything.” he tells you. His shoulders dropped as he has a frown on his face.

You feel bad for him, you understand how that feels to be left alone. To miss home, to miss everyone and everything.

You put a hand on his shoulder and then loved it up to his cheek for him to look at you.

“Hey, It’s okay. I understand where your coming from. Trust me, I know how it feels to be alone. I didn’t live here always, I was with my family, my friends but then…they came. I seen all of my family die in front of my eyes.” You looked away, You didn’t like going back to this memory but you told him anyways.

“I tried to stop them but 3 ships was there. I couldn’t do anything, so I swam away as fast as I can. And that’s how I got here” you confessed to him.

It was silence for a few moments but then he apologized “I’m sorry that happened, but hey! You got me now” he says with a smile, picking the mood back up. you laughed, You Can Finally trust him.

But that thought quickly goes away, you hear the familiar sounds of a pirate ship. Your smile dropped. There was multiple, he lied to you.

His eyes widened in horror as your widened as well. You back away from him, looking at him with disgust and betrayal. You turn around to the ships and you noticed that they are aiming their pistols at you, their cannons as well.

He desperately pleads that he didn’t do this, that he didn’t know but you glared at him. You’re in disbelief that you actually gave him the benefit of the doubt and trust him.

As much as you want to attack him, You safety matters first. So you swim away deep in the water as Miguel watches, as he hears his name being called from the people above.

A/N2: im so sorry this took so long

[nothing-tolose]

All Because I Liked A Girl.

Part 3

A/N: lol i found this a bit nonsense whsgajdhe *wheezing* AND AND AND IM SORRY IF THIS WASNT GOOD AS PART 2. anyway i love u guys sm xoxo

if you have criticism and suggestions to me, you can just knock my dm or send it to inbox <3

🇵🇸 daily click

part 1. part 2.

Those messages still showed up several times with some different accounts.

You decided to turn on the do not disturb mode so those hateful messages won't bother you for a while before you switched app to reply Ellie's message.

You

yeah

i guess..

You took a deep breath, fingers were typing over the keyboard with hesitation.

You

no

i'm not, actually

can you come over, els?

i need u here

please

delivered

You let out a slight sigh, and you put down your phone to the kitchen table. You buried your face in between your arms, eyes were red and tears stain on your cheeks.

You were actually don't want to give a fuck about Anne's post, but the way people insulting you and the way she reacted to them, you couldn't even understand. How on earth you don't give a fuck with that when some people were saying they'll be waiting your funeral? They might really do something if they have a guts and you were unaware.

And someone was just mentioned your initial there, Anne reacted with 'shh'. What kind of reaction was that?

You scared, terrified even. It feels like you're going to isolating yourself in your home until they forget about the post. Sadly you'll never do that, and you won't and you can't do that because you're not even graduate yet!

You left your phone there, and tried walking to living room even though your feet still feeling a bit limp, you were resting your body on the couch with blank stare to ceiling. Your mind started to thinking about those comments, from the first you saw it to the last you saw it on blog. It scares you, so much. Your tears coming down from your eyes for the second time, your chest were going up and down. You were sobbing so hard. Terrified, confused, all your feelings mixed in one.

Morning felt so long. Now it's 1PM, and you still on the same position with cushion that you hugged for the past few hours. You can hear nothing but your sobs and the sound of cars passing by on the street. Still not feeling any better.

The next second, you heard a knock from your door, followed by sound of door opened. You could tell it was Lauren who just opened the door, sound of hurried footsteps filled the room, "There you are!"

Lauren runs over you, crouches on the floor so that she's at eye-level with you. Her eyebrows furrowed, she obviously worried about you. She tapped your shoulder two times, "Would you sit?" She asked.

You just nod and get up slowly, leaning on the backrest while Lauren put down the cushion on your lap.

"Where's your phone?"

You turn your head and looking at the kitchen table where you left your phone morning earlier, "There," You said, almost not making a sound.

"Okay."

She walk towards the kitchen, her hand picked up your phone without a glance and put it in her coat pocket. You didn't paying attention to Lauren and staring to the front of your sight as you still got your panic attack, but you really really tried to make yourself calm down. Oh, but it didn't help you at all.

Lauren went back with a glass of water on her hand, she sits next to you, "Drink it, and try to breath slowly," You just do what she said.

She put it down the glass on the coffee table after you drank. You feel her thumbs wipes your tears slowly along with her little chuckle. You swore you have no idea if Lauren weren't here, you might be drowning in your tears or maybe crying blood when your tears already gone. Or the worst part, you might be dead alone here. She was like your own sister, who always stay on your side when you're down and when you're happy.

Lauren smiled at you before she hugged you so tightly, her hands running through your hair, "You don't deserve this."

"It'll pass. They'll forget about everything what happened today in no time, okay? You didn't stole Ellie," She keeps saying some words to make you feel better, and apparently it does. You fell asleep with your head on Lauren's lap.

Lauren took your phone out, and she stared at the lockscreen. There's still a bunch of messages request from people who still trying to get you down. Her eyebrows furrowed, anger almost taking over herself.

'All these fucking unnecessary messages, and Ellie doesn't texting her at all while the problem was involved with her? What kind of girlfriend is she?'

Lauren decided to changed the setting to disable the notifications from any social media except messages, at least you wouldn't see those fuckers from your lockscreen notification center.

She turned off your phone and took a glance at your face, she sighed.

'Does she really care about you right now? When everyone were talking shit about you because they thought you stole Ellie from Anne?'

Woke up on the same couch, the first thing you noticed was Lauren wasn't here. You were all alone, lights turned on, it's already dark out there.

"Shit, how long I've been asleep?" You get up, looked up to the clock and it's already 8PM. You grabbed your phone from the coffee tables in front of you, seeing if there's any messages you can reply.

messages from lauren

idk how long you've been asleep but i rlly have to go so sorry for leaving u aloneee;((

i bought some foods u can heat it up, AND dont skip your dinner bcs i assumed you haven't eaten today

dont be so curious to open ur social media, kay? i dont want u get your panic attack again

i love uuuuuu 💋💋💋💋❤️❤️❤️

You laughed for a second, then you scrolled the notification center searching if there's more messages. Your smile disappeared when you didn't see any messages from Ellie.

I mean, she always tried to reply your message asap after you sent the texts even when she's busy, she would tell you that she can't reply all your messages right now and will reply it soon as possible. The texts you sent to her this morning were still delivered. There's even no calls from her, does she even read your messages through the notifications? You needed her so much, and where is she now?

You don't want to overthink it. Maybe she's been too busy, but today is fucking Sunday, how the hell a student got really really busy on Sunday?

You bit your nails, suddenly thinking about your biggest fear.

What if she meet Anne in somewhere?

Your mind straight up thinking about her and Anne. All those what-ifs filling up your head, even you whispered to yourself to not assuming everything in negative way. But you couldn't help it. You really hate it when you can't help to stop assuming things.

You huffed, resting yourself on the backrest. You staring at the wall, imagining if Ellie were here right by your side like Lauren did and at the same time you still thinking if she were with Anne today.

You almost fell asleep again when you heard Ellie's voice calling your name along with knocking on the door. You stood up quickly and ran into the door.

Once you opened it, she grabbed both of your forearms. Her face looked so worried, worried than Lauren. She panted, sweating all over her face, and messy hair strands on the side of her face.

Your hands on her shoulders, "Where have you been?"

She didn't answer your question, all she said was, "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry." And asking you if you were okay, then she hugged you tightly like you were about to leave her.

You ended up on your bed, laying down with your head resting on her arm. After she said sorry five times, you took her to the bedroom. You really wanted to ask her, where the hell was she this entire day? Why did she texted you and just disappeared, and then showed up looking so worried like she was almost dead?

But here you are, with her. None of you broke the silence. She caressed your cheeks so gently, kissing your forehead several times, and humming.

You looked up to her, staring at her green emerald eyes. Your mouth was opened, almost asking her the same question that you've asked before.

"Sorry, I had an emergency." Right before you could ask her, she spoke.

"What emergency?"

Ellie went silent, she bite her lower lip and glancing aside, avoiding eye contact with you.

"Ellie, what emergency?"

She sighed heavily, her eyes now looking at you, "Sorry, you got dragged into this mess because of me. I shouldn't be disappeared for an entire day after texting you," She closed her eyes and looked away, "I'm really sorry."

You sitting up there and shook your head in desperation, "You did answer my question earlier, but you didn't answer the last question, Ellie. What emergency?"

There's no reply from her. You scoffed, "Ellie, what emergency that made you didn't reply to my texts?"

Ellie turned her head, "You texted me?"

"What?"

Oh.. Wait, what?

taglist: @cherryimaa @kimaellie @backedbeansh @bunnyrose01 @bready101

[al4dy]

My addiction [Amber. F]

Pairing: Amber Freeman x fem!reader

Summary: You've been having encounters with Ghostface and now you find yourself addicted.

Warnings: toxic relationship, sick love, mention of drugs(?), addictions, sadism, knife play, violence, blood, knives and things like that. Not proofread, sorry. +16 only, please.

a/n: My friend @jennacarioca was sad and I started writing this to her since she likes Amber (It's shameful how long it took me to write just this little bit), and also her birthday is almost knocking on the door, so it will be two birds with one stone. (english is definitely not my first language and this'll be kinda obvious lmao sorry again)

What makes addiction an addiction? The release of dopamine is one of the factors, that's for sure. The hormone that brings you happiness, pleasure, satisfaction, just as it can also bring you into deep, unforgiving waters and make you drown in these temporary sensations. Something that gives you so many good feelings can - if you're not careful - be your downfall.

Already showing signs of addiction you would recklessly look for things that release this rush of sensations just to feel something similar again.

It's just fucking hard to get out of an addiction, especially if you've been doing it for a while. Sometimes you may end up not getting rid of it even if you want with all your might, because deep down you know that maybe nothing will give you those same sensations.

And that's exactly what was happening to you. Your addiction was consuming you, slowly corrupting you, leaving you rotten and dependent on these sensations, this type of adrenaline– And there's only one person in the world capable of making you feel something like that; Woodsboro's most wanted serial killer.

Your body carried dagger cuts, some still healing and others already healed. Your throat had the perfect imprint of the hand Ghostface used to squeeze it, to choke you until you begged for air, for mercy. All of this was enough sign for you to get out of this fucked up situation, look for help, run as far away...

But how could you? None of that compared to the feeling of those soft lips tracing moist kisses down your neck, whispering words of comfort, sweet words that no one had said to you before. The feeling of those slightly pointed canine teeth grazing your sensitive skin to the point where blood can be seen; it was an agonizing pain, but then their tongue slid over the spot so gently, eliciting a drawn out moan from you.

Now that you put yourself in this situation, you couldn't get out.

The cold night breeze tickled your skin, goosebumps spread over every inch of your body but it definitely wasn't because of that. No, the cold breeze didn't play even the slightest role in how your body was completely rigid, or how - even slightly - you were shaking. It was because of the person dressed in a black cloak in front of you; their face being hidden by a Ghostface mask.

At this point you should be feeling the cold metal of the dagger slowly sliding across your skin - not too deep, but deep enough to make Ghostface pleased to see your pained expression and the crimson liquid running from the cut -, but now what you felt was the fabric of their glove against your skin, making small circles on your neck with the index finger.

You were used to this game. It was a pattern and you discovered it pretty quickly. Ghostface likes to hurt you not only physically, but also mentally: One night they like to play with you, especially with knives, restricting you and any disobedience would be another cut on your body. Over the next few nights they shower you with affection, treat you like a princess, say the most romantic things and make you feel loved like never before. Only to disappear for a few weeks, leaving you distressed, anxious, needing more. That's when Ghostface comes back again and the cycle continues, exactly in that order.

“You keep coming at me, why?” the voice was modulated, but the soft way they spoke to you made the air in your lungs empty in seconds. You're feeling uneasy, you could feel your stomach turn from feeling your body heating up. You hated it, it was ridiculous- however, you still wanted to keep feeling that way.

You opened your mouth but nothing came out, it was as if a lump had formed in your throat, preventing you from saying anything.

“Come on love… you know exactly what to say.”

“B-Because I love you.” You felt your stomach drop, you always did. It didn't feel right to say those words, not in this situation and definitely not to that person.

As soon as the words completely slipped out of your mouth, a robotic laugh was heard in that dark and deserted alley. “Oh god- that never fails to make me laugh!”

“As much as I like to hear you say it, you don't love me, baby. You love how I make you feel.” You lowered your gaze to the dirty floor, but it didn't last long as the same hand that made small circles on your neck grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at them. A gasp left your lips. “Look at me while we’re talking.” Ghostface had a threatening tone. You could tell they were smiling and enjoying it.

You were completely right, you just confirmed it when they took off that mask.

As soon as the mask was off your breath hitch. No matter how many times you saw Amber taking off that mask, you always got the same reaction. Having those intense eyes staring at you dead in the eye made you want to squeeze your thighs together. It was as if all that uneasy feeling disappeared as soon as you saw her face.

Amber had a cheek-to-cheek smile on her lips; a smile that make you shiver from head to toe in fear. That was definitely what people call a “maniacal smile”. She tightened her grip on your chin.

Your eyes were seen so much clearly now, your frown said that you were thinking about getting rid of this touch because it was really hurting, but the way you swallowed hard and sighed with your lips parted right away put everything Amber needed to know on the table.

You still wanted her, you still needed her even though she treated you like that and that was just a trigger for her to continue.

“Hmm...” The hand that held your chin firmly slid slowly down your jaw. “But it’s okay if you don’t love me, because I definitely love you.” The sinister smile on her lips gave way to a softer one, you could have sworn it was something more tender.

“Let’s get out of this alley so I can love you completely, okay?”

It was always the same question, you knew that after that night it would take days for you to see her again. You knew she would make you go to heaven only to pull you straight to hell.

But you don't care, do you? As long as you're able to be with Amber - as long as she can make you feel alive even though she's killing you slowly -, you'd go to hell blindfolded.

“Yes.” You said quietly.

“Yes what?”

“Yes love."

[villainofmyownstory]

Blurry

Part 2

masterlist

part 1 | 1.2 | part 3

pairing: exhusband!Captain John Price x fem!Reader

summary: You visit your ex-husband, in your once shared home. The memories are painful. But only for you. Unfortunately, after that one bloody mission, John doesn't remember you. The memory of your life together, blurred in his mind.

tags: afab reader, hurt, ex lovers, ex-husband, recollection of death, loss of memory, ambiguous/open ending

2.5k words

author's note: @blackhawkfanatic @who-needs-to-sleep @rafaelacallinybbay because you asked about part 2 <3

If anyone wants to be added or removed from the taglist - let me know.

——————————————————————————————————

Something inside you has broken.

It seems that for a long time, you were pieces that were temporarily glued together.

In the end, pretending was a good thing.

After all, the one who laughs the loudest internally cries the hardest. 

Since those three days, weeks have passed. And somehow you couldn't move on. Maybe you should ask about that ring on his finger that unexpectedly appeared. Or maybe you should forget, finally move on, start living your life as before and never look back.

And of course, the phone rang every day. The boys, as usual, cared about you, not just him. After all, the captain's orders were to take care of you, too.

Even if he said those words so long ago. Before.

Do you think these waters will ever be shallower? That the current of the river, will carry you away and let you swim inertly to another shore? Or will you drown in the mud and your body sink inertly to the bottom. Forgotten. Left until your flesh rots, disintegrates eaten by river creatures.

His warm hands gently hold your waist. Keeping you from falling off the chair. Even though this is November outside it's already exceptionally cold. It even snowed lightly today. However, there was no longer any sign of it now.

You try to concentrate on decorating the tree, but the presence of a man in your flat is slightly overwhelming.

You let him. You accepted it all. Feeling inside, somewhere deep under your ribs, that this is madness. But despite everything, this discomfort, the smile doesn't leave your face.

You look down at him, his hands still holding your hips. Maybe you can stay like this for a while longer. You feel safe. Wanted. Needed. Belonged to someone.

”I'll turn on the lights”

he says finally helping you off the chair. You take a few steps away to get a better view.

Your first Christmas together. Never mind that it's just the two of you. And you don't mind that it's November.

What matters is that someone finally put your broken pieces together.

He was just yours.

In a few days he had to go on a mission. For unknown amount of time.

So this year Christmas came sooner. And you glance at him as he looks at the decorated Christmas tree with pride written on his face. To turn his gaze to you with the same delight.

”Somethin' wrong?”

You don't answer, blushing slightly. No one has ever looked at you like that.

”Nothing”

you mumble embarrassed

”You look nice in that Christmas sweater” you reply and reluctantly glance back at tree.

”Do you like snowmen, dove?”

The phone rings. It rings nonstop. A familiar picture appears on the screen.

That's right, today is Wednesday.

You allow yourself not to answer.

Several times.

Finally, you slide your finger across the screen.

"Everythin’ okay?"

Kyle, as usual without greeting, gets straight to the point

"I've been waiting for an hour and you're not here. Do you want me to come get you?"

Silence.

"Or maybe I should call Simon?"

That will do.

"I'll be there in half an hour."

You sigh, slowly letting the air out, as if you've been holding it in your lungs for the last few minutes. You quickly take the keys and leave the cold apartment.

You let him hold your hand. Maybe it's weakness. Maybe longing. Or maybe selfishness.

When the therapy is over and you're sitting in his car, you see a Tupperware container in the back seat. You know very well what it means.

"Jessica thought you'd be hungry. You know how she is.  She always cooks too much, and Captain won't eat it all himself” Kyle hands you a heavy container and a spoon

"How long?"

You don't dare raise your eyes, heavy eyelids close for a moment. The world starts spinning again. You don't want to hear that she is there again. Why is she there. After all, it was your home too. Never hers.

But of whom you want to make a fool, you know very well the reason.

"Two weeks." Kyle looks through the windshield, nervously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel

"Friday will be three years from-"

"Don't."

You speak quickly and dryly. You don't want to hear it. You know perfectly well that Friday is the anniversary of the accident.

You should be the one standing in the kitchen. It should be you. There.

"Should I drive you back to your apartment? One of the guys will drive the car back later."

You don't answer, your eyelids are heavy. It's as if they've stuck together and don't want to give you even a hint of light. Any comfort of a still bright day.

Drowning. To sink into the darkness. In an abyss of pain. Rot and suffer. This is your destiny. Forgotten.

"Hey, do you want to talk? Maybe someone should stay with you for the next few days?"

Kyle looks at you, sees your gray, tired face. The dark circles under your eyes. Hair that hasn't been cared for by a stylist in years. Fallen cheeks and chapped lips. Someone else is sitting in that car. It's not you anymore.

When you finally get back to your place, you toss the food container into the trash can and, still in your coat and shoes, lie down on the couch, in the living room. You stare dully at the blank wall, hoping that maybe sleep will come now.

It was better with you before, you were already walking on that straight path. Without stumbling, colors appeared on the sides. The sun was rising more and more for you. But again, a shadow that hid somewhere behind you covered your silhouette. Leaning heavily on your shoulders.

Late in the afternoon, when night slowly replaced day, and red and pink colours dance on the walls in the room, you finally fall asleep.

And again, a nightmare comes. You wish you could wake up and stay awake, stare at the ceiling and not have to relive it all over again. Maybe insomnia was some kind of cure for you. An escape.

And here you are in this place. Another broken promise. Once again you are doing something against yourself. You're sitting in the guest room on fresh evenly laid sheets.

In his home.

But when the phone rang in the middle of the night and on the other end you heard from, none other than Ghost (not to be confused with Simon, at that moment he is speaking to you as a soldier, the Captain). So it wasn't even a request. Just a command. Since John's memory had improved considerably since your last visit, along with the doctors, Ghost decided that you would stay with him this time for longer. Due to the fact that Johnny was injured and needed time to rest. Ghost and Gaz went on missions together. This time, to your misfortune, for a few weeks. And Jessica with kids couldn't stay for longer. Everyone had their own responsibilities. So you were chosen. The last option.

When you arrived, John wasn't there yet, he was going to rehab on Thursdays. So you got a few more hours of freedom before he returned. However, something paralyzed you to leave the room. The suitcase stood next to the bed, still unpacked.

The smell in the house, despite such a long time and so many different people who came in every now and then, remained the same. Cigars and burning wood from the fireplace.

Overwhelming. Now suffocating.

And those damn beige walls. Boring, nauseating. But eventually, it had to be repainted, three years ago these four walls witnessed your darkest moments in life.

Maybe it's better to sleep downstairs in the living room.

When John returns and enters the house, everything happens as if you were a different person - a spectator sitting in the front row, watching with bated breath the scene being played out. A scene from the movie called your life.

John puts his keys down on the dresser in the hallway, walks into the living room looks at the already made-up couch and turns in your direction with surprise. And you stand still with a wooden spoon in your hand, not even blinking.

"Oh there you are darling. Are we supposed to have guests tonight?"

You answer absolutely nothing, still standing motionless at the kitchen island, dismayed to see him slowly walk towards you.

And as if nothing ever happened, he grabs you lightly, squeezing your hip, and leans down to kiss your forehead. The kiss seems to last an eternity. It's almost like he's been kissed you for the first time.

He always did that when he came back to you.

But that was then. It was never - after.

"Somethin' wrong?"

He moves away from you and smiles gently, tilting his head, waiting for an answer.

You finally gain some strength in yourself and despite the unreality of the whole situation, which seems as if your brain is playing with you and replaying a scene from the past.

You finally nod slowly, in denial.

"I'll change and help you, I'm exhausted after today's new exercises. But I'm pretty flexible considering my age."

Saying this he smiles wider.

"And how was your day, at work?"

The wooden spoon fell to the countertop with a bang. Echoing in the room.

Mumbling apologetic words, you quickly evade him. You say something about a forgotten business, about making an urgent phone call.

You don't know who to call. Your hands are shaking and wet with sweat. ''It didn't happen.'' you mumble to yourself. Someone who was in charge of your life was a fucking prankster . Every time it seemed like nothing was going to happen, a new unknown and unannounced thing popped up from around the corner. A bloody joke.

Finally deciding to call Johnny, even though he was recently injured and supposed to be resting, you had to hear someone's familiar voice. Something that confirms that you have your feet on the ground. Something that makes you reassure yourself that you're not crazy.

After two signals he picks up and when he hears your frightened voice when you tell him about the situation from a moment ago.  Johnny will be here in two hours.

It's nothing that the wound on his thigh hasn't healed yet. Because if his Captain has finally regained his memory. He would, even if he had to walk 1,000 miles barefoot. He would do it without hesitation.

Just to have him back.

So you had to face John somehow, waiting for those two hours. And that seemed to be no easy thing to do. Because you no longer knew what awaited you on the other side of the beige bedroom. Who was the man who just a few weeks ago, every time he saw you, didn't recognize you and asked the same questions.

Was this the old, kindest John, the one you fell in love with many years ago.Was it even still possible, or was what you heard a few minutes ago some kind of error in his hollow, broken memory.

And again, the same scenery. How many times will it all be the same almost so familiar, and in truth so distant and foreign.

John's already dressed in more comfortable clothes, a plain plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and comfortable old, slightly rubbed jeans.

You stand in the threshold of the kitchen nervously clutching the phone, holding it as if it were some sort of lifeline, a connection to something that will save you. Well, from what, exactly? From a man who acts as if the last years, that tragedy never happened, and your marriage continued uninterrupted. Happily.

"Why don't we eat on the terrace? It's a really nice afternoon today."

John is standing at the countertop, his back turned to you cheerfully humming tunes known only to himself.

And you, you stand praying that by some miracle Johnny will get here sooner.

Despite your fatigue after a day's work, you cheerfully bustle around the kitchen, preparing a late supper. John was supposed to come back today, even though it had only been a week. The longing for him was great. Especially since just 3 weeks ago you had written in the documents, different name. Now, you proudly looked at your finger many times a day, seeing no longer an engagement ring. But something much more important.

A gold wedding ring.

Mrs. Price.

Not only was his return a cause for celebration, there was something else.

Once dinner is ready, the table is a bit over-decorated. The room, and practically the whole house, is illuminated only by the candles that have been set up. You stand nervously in the kitchen in your hands holding a small gift bag.

The dress is rather too elegant, as well. But you want this moment to be special, unique. Unforgettable.

Finally, this long-listened-for sound is interrupted by the only oddity you hear - the beating of your own heart.

John stands in the threshold with astonishment

"Honey? What's-?"

Slowly you hear his heavy footsteps, and after a moment you see him. A tired face, this time with longer facial stubble than usual. He is still dressed in a dirty tactical uniform. You don't even want to know what he witnessed in his absence.

He walks up to you and, as usual, one hand rests on your hip gently squeezing it and a warm kiss lands on your forehead.

"Some celebration? don't tell me I forgot about some important anniversary."

John looks up at you, despite his fatigue, his eyes shining happily illuminated by the candlelight.

"No, you haven't forgotten anything. It's something else."

Speaking, you grab a colorful bag and hand it to him

"A gift? oh, that means it is some positive occasion for me. For us?"

You smile nervously waiting for him to see what's inside.

Definitely a very positive news.

Time passes slowly. It's as if someone has pressed the slow motion button on the remote control to see the details better.

John, still in a good mood, finishes preparing the meal and finally turns in your direction and looks at you

"White or red?"

You bite your lower lip, feeling a coppery aftertaste in your mouth.

"Why are you doing this, John? Why is this happening again?"

Slowly saying these words, you look at his hands, which he wipes inattentively.

"But, what's the matter? I wanted to help you with dinner, dove. And I asked what kind of wine you wanted to drink. That's all."

With each step he takes toward you, you back away until you hit the wall.

"Tomorrow you will forget everything again, I don't have the strength anymore. I shouldn't have agreed to this. Again."

John stands close, much too close.

"How could I forget my biggest sweetheart? My beautiful wife? There's no way I'll ever forget you."

You finally lift your gaze, and look into his eyes. Hoping to see the same spark he once had, long ago.

However, all you see is emptiness. A faded blue.

And the only thought in your mind is for Johnny to hurry up and rescue you from this nightmare.

[kakushino]

Smokescreen

Rengoku Kyojuro x GN! Reader

Suppress, smile, survive.

Tags: hurt/comfort Word count: ~1k

Masterlist

AN: This was quite the emotional piece for me to write. I hope yall won't be destroyed by it. Written as a Christmas present to dear @heartbroken4ever ~

The water temperature was just right, the fog rising in the bathroom concealed him from prying eyes should there be any - a smoke screen of sorts - but the tears streaming down his face felt like branding iron, searing an unseen wound into his soul.

His throat was clogged with emotion, his body felt too hot and too cold at the same time, shame burned his cheeks bright red as he gasped for breath quietly. He was choking, drowning, suffocating on the aching mess built up in his core over the weeks, months, years. 

You’re a disgrace.

No, father, please!

Good for nothing.

I just want you to be proud of me!

Get out of my sight.

I just want you to look at me!

He had told Senjuro before that the fire in his heart couldn’t ever be extinguished, that he would never give in…

He wasn’t so sure now.

His heart shrieked in grief, a banshee mourning the loss of his father’s love yet again. He kept hoping and hoping, praying and praying; it was all for naught. Perhaps he was a disgrace, perhaps he was good for nothing, perhaps he should just-

No. He couldn’t give into that. He would fight until his final breath for humanity, though the thought still lingered on his mind.

The Flame Hashira never lashed out, never cried loudly, he never felt he deserved to carve out a place for his sorrow in others’ minds. However, his breath came out in a death rattle, as if his lungs were truly filling up with fluid-

He thought he was being quiet.

“My love?” 

Kyojuro stifled a curse, and forced down everything that had bubbled over from the tightly wound knot of his negative emotions; he put it all away with desperate swiftness belaying his misery.

He never wanted to weigh you down with his baggage after all.

He cleared his throat, and called out “Yes?” in what he hoped was his usual tone. He gathered all the loose strings and forced them back inside, splashing lukewarm water - when had it gotten so cool? - onto his face to wash away the tears.

The slight waver betrayed the state of your partner. “Are you okay? You have been there an hour…” you asked, still at the threshold of the room. It was foggy inside, but you could see your love’s silhouette moving a little. “I’m coming in.”

Kyojuro hoped beyond hope all signs of his distress were gone as he pulled his signature wide smile onto his face like a mask. You already had so much on your plate, how could he burden you with his insignificant worries?

“You are bold today, my love!” His smile stretched into a grin as you walked closer to him, glad to see you, though the ache inside only throbbed more prominently as he suppressed the emotional release he needed.

You, on the other hand, knew something was wrong, and you knew Kyojuro was loath to show any weakness even to you - his partner of over two years. You didn’t want to force him to show vulnerability to you, but you would be damned if he went through it all alone.

You stepped around him silently to hug him from the back as he leaned on the side of the bathtub. His skin was warm, overly so as always, but the water wasn’t, which was telling in a way.

“It’s okay to let go, dearest,” you murmured into his ear, your head nuzzling lightly against his in a cat-like affectionate gesture. Your hands splayed on his chest as you let him remain unseen yet offered him unconditional support. No amount of ‘dirty laundry’ he hid from you would make you leave your Kyojuro.

His face pulled into an ugly expression he was glad you couldn’t see as he tried to hold back his feelings. They pressed against his chest and made it hard to breathe again, his total concentration breathing broken for the second time today. His lungs physically hurt from the suppression.

“I’ve got you,” you said softly. 

Oh how he wished his father held him like you did, how he wished he could say your embrace was enough… It would have to be enough. 

The first choked sob that burst from his chest was loud and echoed in the bathroom. Your heart broke as you cradled him in all the comfort and warmth you could provide to him. More distressing noises left your lover and your arms tightened around him. It hurt to not be able to do anything other than stay as his pillar of support.

Kyojuro pressed his head against yours, cheek to cheek, his breathing ragged as tears fell. 

“Let it all out, love. I’m here,” you whispered reassuringly, caressing his chest briefly before his hands came up to intertwine with yours. He held onto you as if you were his lifeline, clung to you like a lost child in a dark forest. Water soaked your yukata sleeves, but you cared little as you started to rock him slowly. “You don’t have to smile when you don’t feel good… not with me.”

The bath was cold and goosebumps spread across your skin by the time Kyojuro fell into an exhausted silence. You stayed with him the entire time, despite the discomfort of the cold water, despite the awkward position; you stayed and you gave him the love he so desperately needed.

“Never hesitate to lean on me, my love. I’m here with you… I’m here for you. You’re so strong and brave. My warrior… Let it all out, never bottle it in, okay? Shhhh… I love you, Rengoku Kyojuro.”

How could he have thought you weren’t enough to help him through this… He was a fool.

You were his personal Deity of Salvation, and he would stay your reverent worshiper until the day he died. Until his soul crossed the Sanzu river, he would be yours.

dividers made by the awesome @benkeibear Network: @enchantedforest-network