#did you have to drag the whole nation along though
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so I can't actually look at your taskmaster posts straight on bc it's like looking at some sort of like higher being and I'm simply not strong enough. But I still want to ask you about it bc I really like TM!
Do you have a favorite season? A favorite contestant? Do you have thoughts on Liza Tarbuck's final task?
asdfa;j;kl anon i'm so sorry for the unhinged tweets but this is so funny to me. how do you watch the show. liza literally said alex had "a greedy bottom" on air & i HAVE to assume alex enjoyed this because it aired! on the television show which alex executively produces! god fucking bless.
also THE TASK was to "tell the taskmaster you love him in the most meaningful way" and at no point did anyone feel the need to pause & explain why having alex sit on a cake would be meaningful to greg, presumably because every single episode prior to this one had already made it perfectly clear.
there are such delightful moments in basically every series and if i talked about them all we would genuinely be here all day but here's some quick standouts:
series 5
the songs about rosalind were SUCH bangers? mark & nish's in particular was a triumph, loved when they revealed their musical talents. overall greg's dynamic with nish was SO funny. i really enjoy when they have secret contestant-specific tasks & want every single cheeky text revealed. sally is also... so hot, my god. nail that watercooler.
series 7
everyone had such a good dynamic, greg had a fantastic time, rhod tried to strip alex every episode, just chaotic as hell. james absolutely breaking in studio, phil leaning into the dick, everyone was game for anything & it really gelled wonderfully. sidebar the nearly-nude picture of greg is GREAT, i won't let anyone say anything otherwise.
series 15
"this is a show about pedantry" frankie is so correct and his delivery is impeccable, he made me cry-laugh so many times. ivo is a hopeful puppy and i loved it every time anyone suggested he needed a refund from eton. mae is obviously the hottest of them all but kiell subbing in for coc was also a delight. a lovely cast.
series 16
how are the sues so adorable???? i love that they became bffs immediately. also susan is the CUTEST, her outfits were incredible, and rada was obviously worth all thirty grand from the way she mimed every idiom to perfection. julian's dynamic with alex, also unmatched. genuinely the unhinged energy in this one was off the charts.
#some kind of human interaction#i started the back catalog at s4 so going back to see the early dynamics has been SO fascinating#just a dude about to embark on a journey of self-discovery; and also alex#he claims he's only there to be eye-candy and admin in series TWO#like congratulations on training your perfect top#did you have to drag the whole nation along though#a completely normal television show
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Just a Spark - Eddie Munson x Reader
A Collaboration with my beloved kindred spirit @munson-blurbsđ€
Summary: Eddie takes his sons to watch fireworks at Lover's Lake for the Fourth of July. But when he notices you there with some friends, including some male friends, he can't help but be jealous.
Note: Thank you to my dearest @joejoequinnquinn for loving jealous!eddie as much as I do and for coming up with this lovely idea! I still find it funny that it's a Fourth of July fic and you do not live in the US, lol. I hope you all enjoy and happy 4th of July to my fellow Americans đ
Warnings: older!eddie, dad!eddie, babysitter!reader, eddie being jealous hehe
Words: 3.9k
[As You Wish masterlist]
It wasnât often that Hawkins held activities that appealed to the whole town. The haunted houses around Halloween only appealed to the teenagers, the winter wonderlands at Christmas only mattered to young children, and the Thanksgiving Parade was something that everyone swears they got dragged along to against their will. Fourth of July in Hawkins was the one day a year that could be counted on to bring people of all ages out to Loverïżœïżœïżœs Lake for sunshine in the afternoon and fireworks at night.Â
Kids would splash and swim together in the shallow area of the lake while their parents watched from picnic blankets spread out not too far away. Teens and college students would come with their friends, the college kids drinking beer out in the open while the teenagers had to hide sips behind a tree or behind a friendâs back.Â
It was a tradition in the Munson household to grill up some hamburgers and bring them down to eat at the lake while they watched the fireworks. This particular year things seem to be off-track, though. Brittany had left the house early in the afternoon to run a few errands and pick up some charcoal for the grill so that Eddie could cook the hamburgers. After being gone far too long for just saying she was heading to a few stores, the phone rings and Brittany gives Eddie some sob story about how she ran into her sister whoâs having a crisis and she needs to stay with her for a while. Eddie just sighed as he hung up, thinking to himself that at least Brittany wasnât dumb enough to say it had something to do with work when banks are closed because itâs a national holiday. The only problemâbecause going out with his boys without his wife was certainly not a problemâhe ran into now was that he didnât have time to run out and get charcoal and make the burgers before they were going to leave for the lake.Â
Improvising, Eddie swings through a Burger King drive-through on the way, making sure the three of them would still keep their tradition intact as much as possible. The boys donât seem to mind the differences between this year and last, maybe just glad to have a chance to hang out with their dad while they did something as cool as watch fireworks.Â
Eddie pulls his truck into the already-crowded parking lot and grabs the bag of fast food. As he and the boys get out, people walk by carrying coolers, picnic baskets, and a few types of inner tubes to use in the water. There are tons of people thereâwhich Eddie expected. He takes Lukeâs hand into his own and instructs Ryan to grab onto Lukeâs other so they donât lose anyone.Â
âEddie!â A familiar voice calls out and has Eddie whipping around to spot its owner. He quickly sees the Sinclairs; Lucas is waving with his left hand to get Eddieâs attention, with Tiffany on his right hip.Â
Eddie nudges the boys. âLook whoâs here!â Their eyes widen when they notice Uncle Lucasâwho Eddie swears is his younger sonâs namesake and certainly isnât Luke Skywalkerâalong with Aunt Max and their baby. They practically pull Eddie across the lot to them.Â
Clapping Lucasâs hand and pulling him in for a modified bro-hug so he doesnât crash into Tiffany, Eddie offers his long-time friend a grin. âHow have you guys been?â he asks as he gives Max a hug.Â
âGood. Tired.â Max says with a laugh. âTiffany slept through the night for about three days before she started teething.â
âAww, poor thing,â Eddie coos, chuckling when Tiffany proves her motherâs point by grabbing Eddieâs finger and gnawing on it. âDonât worry, it doesnât last as long as it seems,â he reassures the new parents.Â
âWeâre just headed out,â Lucas explains, kissing his daughterâs cheek. âItâs this little ladyâs bedtime, and weâve gotta get home before the fireworks start.â
âWe have no idea how sheâll react to them, and weâre not about to conduct that experiment in public,â Max chimes in, making Eddie laugh again. âBut weâll see you at Ryanâs birthday party next week!â
The Munsons and Sinclairs part with goodbyes and more hugs before Eddie and the boys head towards the lake.Â
âI wanna sit near the water!â Luke insists, and Eddie winces at his high-pitched whine.Â
âThink we might get a better view of the fireworks if we sit up a little higher.â Itâs the truth; plus, he wonât have to worry about Luke flinging himself into the cesspool that Hawkins calls a lake.Â
They find a shady spot right under a tree, and Eddie lays out three beach towels so they wonât have to sit in the dirt. He passes out the parchment-wrapped burgers and little bags of fries and sits back with a sigh. This is what heâd always wantedâfamily traditions with his boys. If onlyâŠ
âHas anyone seen my sunscreen?â
Eddie freezes mid-bite, only remembering that he has a burger in his hand when his arm starts to ache from being in one position too long. He chews and swallows as though nothing happened, but his mind is racing.Â
It canât be, he thinks. Heâs almost certain that this is all in his imaginationâGod knows he canât get you out of his headâuntil he hears someone say your name.Â
Just one look, Eddie convinces himself. A quick peek so I can see that itâs not actually her; just someone who sounds like her and has the same nameâŠ
His stomach flip-flops when he glances over and sees you in a low-cut red tank top and cutoff denim shorts. Oh, shit, itâs her. And she looks really, really good. He takes a deep breath, trying to gather his scrambled thoughts. He wishes he had a six-pack; a cold beer can always calm his jangled nerves. Okay, I canât let the boys see. Once that happens, sheâll come over here andâ
Eddieâs anxious thought is disrupted by the sight of one of the three guys youâre with applying sunscreen to the back of your neck. Heâs got long, light brown hairâthough not as long or luscious as his own, Eddie notes wryly.Â
Long Hair spends far too much time massaging the lotion into your skin. Calm down, Buffalo Bill. She doesnât need that much sun protection.Â
The only other girl there plucks the lotion bottle from Long Hairâs hands, much to Eddieâs relief, and Eddie turns his attention back to his boys. âYou guys ready for the fireworks?â He tries to keep the enthusiasm in his voice. âSunâs setting, so theyâll be starting soon.â
Ryan nods, chewing on a fry. âI wonder what colors theyâll have,â he muses.Â
âWell, I wonder what would happen if I sat on a firework!â Luke pipes up with a mouthful of burger. âLike, would I fly into the sky? Or would it blow up in my butt?â
Eddie laughs loudly. âMy moneyâs on the second one, little man.â
Your laughter floats over to Eddie on the breeze blowing off of the lake. He mentally berates himself, thinking of how he should be enjoying this family tradition with his boys and not be wondering if any of those guys youâre with are your boyfriend or if youâre sleeping with any of them or ifâŠ
âDaddy, whatâs wrong?â
âHmm?â Eddie looks up at Ryanâs worried face and frowns. âWhat do you mean?â
âYour lip,â Ryan says, pointing at the bottom half of his fatherâs face. âYou were chewing on it, and it started bleeding.â
âSilly me,â Eddie says with a forced chuckle. He grabs one of the napkins from the Burger King bag and dabs at his lower lip. Luke has shifted to watch a game of volleyball happening on a court that someone set up and it gives Eddie the opportunity to scoot closer between his boys, so his back is to you and your friends. Maybe now heâll be able to focus.Â
It works for a while. The three of them finish their burgers and Luke is immediately complaining that heâs still hungry. Eddie tells the five-year-old he has to wait and tries to play a game with them to distract his youngest son from his rumbling tummy before the fireworks start.Â
âSimon says put your hands on your head. Simon says give your brother a high five,â Eddie instructs as the boys eagerly await the next command. âSimon says stand up. Sit back down. Ah! I didnât say âSimon says!ââ
âI win!â Ryan cheers as Luke sprawls out on his beach towel with a groan. The familiar twinkling tune of an ice cream truck approaching has him bolting up, though.Â
âIce cream?â Luke stands up and balances on his tippy toes to get a better view at the parking lot. When his suspicions are confirmed, he hops up and down. âIce cream! Daddy, can we get some? Pleeeeease?â
âOkay, okay,â Eddie says as if itâs a hardship for him to indulge his boys when in reality heâd already planned on getting ice cream for them at some point tonight. âGet me some too, okay?â
âCookies and cream?â Ryan asks, citing his dadâs favorite flavor.
âAtta boy,â Eddie says, handing him a ten-dollar bill. Luke starts to walk away and towards the truck, but Eddie stops him with an, âah-ah-ah. Itâs crowded here. I donât want you to lose each other so hold your brotherâs hand.â When Luke opens his mouth to respond, a frown creasing his forehead and his nose wrinkling up, Eddie halts the whining before it even happens. âHold your brotherâs hand.â
âFine,â Luke huffs and offers his hand to Ryan in the most limp, unenthusiastic manner possible.Â
The two walk off and Eddie adjusts his position so he can keep an eye on his sons as they snake their way through the crowd and over to the ice cream truck that already has a line of a few kids in front of it. But from this new angle, Eddie can also see you out of the corner of his eye. A breath rushes out of him as if heâd been holding it since his eyes were last on you. Seeing you makes Eddie calmer and more tense at the same time. As always, your presence brings him comfort and happiness. But youâre with a bunch of guys your own age and the jealousy monster is rearing its ugly head like nobodyâs business. Eddie looks down at his lap and his eye catches on his wedding ring, glinting in the fading sun.
âYouâre a fucking hypocrite, Munson,â Eddie mumbles to himself.Â
Unable to not look in your directionâI swear to God sheâs got something magnetic about her, he thinksâEddie sees you gazing out over the lake. You raise your hand above your eyes to shield them from the bright, falling sun and look around the whole area where people have settled in to have fun. Eddieâs just about to look away, not wanting to risk being caught staring at you if you spot him, when he sees one of your guy friends walking over to you. Itâs not Long Hair from before. This guy is shorter and as muscly as the other guy was scrawny. Eddie can hear him calling your name, but you must be too caught up in your thoughts to hear him. Muscles reaches out and touches your arm to get your attention. As if seeing him just touching you isnât bad enough, Eddie watches as you turn around to face Muscles, but the guy still doesnât take his hand off of you. The tanned, muscular hand is slowly moving down your arm and a knot grows in Eddieâs stomach. If this asshole takes your hand, Eddie feels like he might throw up the burger heâs barely started digesting.Â
Luckily, you move to walk back towards your group of friends before Musclesâs hand could reach yours. Eddie feels twenty pounds lighter. He turns back to look towards the parking lot and sees his sons approaching, Ryan holding an ice cream in each hand, and Luke holding one and holding onto the back of Ryanâs red t-shirt with the other hand. By the way his youngest son is rolling his eyes as they approach, Eddie realizes it was Ryanâs idea that Luke holds on to him.Â
Ryan hands Eddie his scoop of cookies and cream, plopping back down to enjoy the mint chip cone heâd bought for himself.Â
âDAD! OH MY GOD, DAD!!â Luke shouts, and Eddie nearly drops his cone.Â
âWhat? Whatâs wrong?â
Luke points down towards the left. âLook at that doggy! Heâs so cute!â Sure enough, a middle-aged couple is walking a golden retriever along the lake. Both boys sit up a bit straighter and watch as the owners toss a tennis ball into the water and the dog eagerly paddles after it.Â
As Eddieâs heart rate steadies to a normal paceâseriously, heâs going to have to talk with Luke about using his âemergency voiceâ when it is not an emergencyâhe finds his gaze drifting back to you. Heâs just in time to see Long Hair take the baseball cap from his own head and put it on top of yours. Eddie silently wills you to take it off, chuck it into the lake, set it on fireâŠbut heâs utterly disappointed when you adjust it to your head and wear it proudly.Â
Would she wear something of mine if I gave it to her? He silently wonders. Heâs so engrossed in whatever flirtatious games youâre playing that he barely hears his older son trying to get his attention.Â
âDaddy, your ice cream is leaking over the cone. Daddy! Itâs getting runny and gonna drip! Daddy?â
âAnd whaddya keep looking that way for? The lake is that way!â Luke chimes in, face covered in cotton candy ice cream.Â
âY-Yeah, sorry, guys,â Eddie mumbles, but he keeps his gaze locked on you. A blonde guy wearing a puka shell necklace like heâs on Hawaii Five-0 points to a beach volleyball net thatâs just been vacated, and you and your friends follow him.Â
Itâs two versus two; Muscles is serving as a referee for this game. You and Puka Shell are on a team, and Long Hair and the only other girl in your group stand on the other side of the net. You serve, the girl returns it, Puka Shell lobbies it to you, and you spike it back, surprising yourself.Â
Eddie clenches his fist until he feels the ice cream cone begin to break when your teammate wraps his arms around you in a hug. Jesus H. Christ, whatever happened to high-fives? But he knows that heâd envy any little touch these guys got from you.Â
He tries to distract himself, asking Ryan if heâs excited for his birthday, but heâs only half-listening.Â
âWhat do you want for a gift?â he asks, raising his eyebrows when his sons look at him curiously. âWhat?â
âI just said I wanted a new Lego set,â Ryan says. Heâs not annoyed, just confused. âAre you feeling okay, Daddy?â
âMaybe he has scurvy,â Luke suggests, âlike the pirates in that movie we watched.â
ââM fine,â Eddie reassures them. It takes a second for him to register what Lukeâs suggested. âDid you just say I had scurvy?â
Thereâs no time for Luke to elaborateânot that Eddie necessarily wants him toâbefore your joyous squeal filters through the air. It seems as though you and Puka Shell won the game, because heâs twirling you around triumphantly.Â
Does she want him picking her up? Touching her? Eddieâs inner monologue runs wild. Okay, sheâs laughing and smiling, so thatâs good. Sheâs fine with it; yeah, so thatâs fine. Everythingâs fine. Weâre all fine here. Sheâs with her friends, Iâm a married man here with my kids, and thatâs all there is to it.Â
The whistle and boom of the first firework lighting the sky is a welcome distraction. Ryan lets out a gasp as he stares in awe of the red shooting through the dark sky. Luke scoots backwards and plops himself in Eddieâs lap. He leans against Eddieâs chest and lays his head back on his shoulder as he becomes engrossed in the spectacle. Itâs been a while since Lukeâs sat in his lap like this, so it brings a smile to Eddieâs face.Â
Mixtures of red, white, and blue fireworks crackle through the air, occasionally making shapes other than the usual spherical pattern that shimmies down. Eddie looks over at Ryan, who has a bright grin on his face. The red firework currently popping off leaves a scarlet shadow behind on his older sonâs face. Beyond Ryan, Eddie glimpses a view of you watching the fireworks. Youâre still with your friends, but youâre sitting a little bit in front of them with your legs crossed and your elbows resting on your knees. Thereâs a peaceful joy on your face and it makes Eddieâs heart give a few thumps harder than usual. Your friends behind you are talking but you couldnât seem to care less about what theyâre saying. Youâre solely focused on the show in the sky. Eddie looks back at his kids and sees them just as mesmerized by the bursting colors. Luke snuggles back against his chest and Eddie is filled with warmth. He wraps his arms loosely around Luke and rests his head against his sonâs smaller one as he looks up and joins in watching the celebration.Â
By the time the fireworks are done, Eddieâs pretty sure his hearing is damaged. Didnât I used to play in a metal band? Jesus, Iâm getting old. Luke springs up from his dadâs lap and Ryan stands up and stretches his arms out over his head, releasing a long yawn.Â
âHow was that?â Eddie asks as he collects the beach towels they had been sitting on.
âSo cool!â Luke says, jumping as if to emphasize his point.Â
âI like the ones that make the fizzy noises as they go out,â Ryan says as he picks up the empty Burger King bag and balls it up in his hands.Â
âMy favorite are the ones that go pheeeeew,â Luke attempts to mimic the whistle, âthen BANG!â
âWhat about you, Daddy?â Ryan asks.Â
âHmm,â Eddie hums as he considers the question. âThe ones that were shaped like circles. They looked pretty cool. Okay, now come on and take my hands, guys. Itâs gonna be like a stampede getting out of here.â Eddie tucks the towels under one arm and offers a hand to each son.Â
They only make it about five steps before Luke is groaning. âItâs going to take forever toâhey! Look!â
Both Eddie and Ryan turn their heads to look in the direction that Luke is pointing. Eddieâs heart stalls in his chest. Lukeâs grinning from ear to ear as he notices you walking with your friends. Ryan gives a gasp of delight when his eyes land on you as well.Â
âIâm gonna go say hi!â Luke exclaims, and heâs already halfway to you before Eddie can even open his mouth.Â
âLuke, Iâugh, shit.â Eddie mumbles the last part under his breath as he leads Ryan by the hand over to you and your friends. Luke is already in your arms by the time they get there.Â
âAnd then the red one went higher than all the others! And I think it had the loudest boom, too,â Luke is saying. You look up and the brightest smile lights up your face as you see Eddie and Ryan standing there.Â
âHey, strangers,â you greet and Ryan dives in for a hug. You chuckle and wrap your arms around him too.Â
Long Hair is standing to the side, slightly closer to Eddie than he is to you, and the rest of your friends are behind you. He gives a small chuckle at the intensity of the hugs the kids give you before turning to Eddie and saying, âYou want a hug, too?â
You jab Long Hair in the ribs with your elbow, but that only makes him chuckle more and wrap an arm around you to pull you back against him. This time, Eddie notices, you donât have the same enthusiastic grin that you had earlier in the evening. It takes everything in his power not to pry you from his arms.Â
âIâll see you guys on Monday, yeah?â you ask the Munson men, desperate to fill the silence.Â
âUsual time and place,â Eddie says. The words would usually be accompanied by a wink or a smirk, but something about being around these college guys is grating on his nerves and itâs the closest heâs felt to being intimidated since he was a senior in high schoolâthe first time.Â
âBye!â both boys call and wave at you before walking away with their dad. You wave in return, but it looks pitiful compared to their enthusiastic ones.Â
As soon as theyâre out of earshot, you pull out of your friend's arm and spin around to face him. âPeter, do you ever shut up?â
âCalm down,â Peter says, exhaling a sound thatâs a mixture of a laugh and a scoff. âThis guyâs old enough to be your dad.â
Tony smirks and rests a muscled arm on Paulâs shoulder. âMaybe sheâs into the whole âdaddyâ thing.â
The eye roll you give them is involuntary. âYou guys are assholes!âÂ
Turning on your flip flop heel, you spin in the other direction and jog a bit until you catch up with Eddie and the boys.Â
âHey! Where are you going?â Paul asks.
A soft, gentle hand lands on Eddieâs shoulder and he looks back to see you offering him an apologetic smile.Â
âIâm sorry if my friends were weirdâŠand Iâm sorry if Iâm making this weirder.â
Eddieâs entire demeanor changes; despite having to watch you flirt with those douchebagsâand then being mocked by themâhe canât help but soften towards you. âNah, Sweetheart, youâre good. Be safe tonight, okay?â Be safe? Seriously, Munson? What are you, her grandpa?
You donât seem to notice the way he bites his tongue, trying to quell the surge of embarrassment. âI always am,â you say reassuringly. âSee you Monday?â
Eddie nods as you turn around to head back to your friends, utterly oblivious to the way your natural beauty outshines the brightest firework tonight. Youâre everything he could ever want, but youâre young and gorgeous with a million better prospects than an old married man.Â
He takes one last look at you before he brings the boys to the car. The passenger seat is empty, and he wears a sad smile when he thinks about you sitting there, excitedly chatting with him and the kids about the evening. Eddie would rest his hand on your thigh while he drives back home, and once Ryan and Luke are sound asleep, you and Eddie could make some fireworks of your own.Â
Shaking his head, Eddie pulls out from the parking spot and braces himself for the holiday traffic. He grumbles some swear words under his breath, flicking on the radio to the first station that doesnât have commercials.Â
ââŠsay Iâm not so tough, just because Iâm in love with an uptown girl.â
He leans back in his seat and taps out the rhythm on the steering wheel. Funny, heâs never really been a Billy Joel fan, but something about this song reminds him ofâ
âDad! Lukeâs looking at me!â
âHe looked at me first!â
âBoth of you close your eyes,â Eddie orders. He canât see whether or not they listened, but the squabbling stopped, so heâll consider it a victory.Â
âUptown girl, sheâs my uptown girlâŠâ
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#older!eddie#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson fanfic#AYW#AYWs
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Another request QUEEN!! I loved loved loved the Josh fic it was amazing and has me coming back for more! First of all though, how are you? I realised we haven't talked much before lol. Anyways, my amazing spectacular request!!
RAB Tyler who is best friends/hiding his feelings with the reader. She's someone who works super hard, gets good grades and almost drives herself insane with all the extra curriculars she does yet still doesn't feel good enough. After having a stressful day she stops by his house feeling worthless and he comforts her, refusing to let her believe she's not amazing.
Thanks bestie!
AHHH THANK YOU BFF!!!đ€đ€ thank you so much for requesting more, youâre always welcomed i LOVE your ideas . i did kind of write this in a highschool setting đŁđŁ.
iâm okayy, very tiredd BUT weâll push on through (hehe)đȘ TYSM FOR ASKING, how are you??đ itâs always nice to hear from you đ«¶
thank you guys so much for ur recent support!! it means smmm, sorry this took so long and itâs short, i have some more things in the drafts that hopefully make up for it 𫶠requests are opened !!đ©¶
THIS IS ME TRYING !
i always did my best. in school, life, everything. i needed to get into college, i NEEDED to get out of my house. however, college isnât cheap. and i donât exactly have the best support system, so itâs up to me. iâm in film club, national honors society and student council. i spend whatever free time studying or at my best friend, tylerâs house. itâs overwhelming, but i didnât have many options. if i wanted to get into a good school and start living my life the way I want to, this had to be done. but today was rough, i spent all of last night finishing my college essay just to go to school bright and early the next day. i was so exhausted, but what else was new. except i had a test in my first two classes, a presentation for national honors society. and i had to stay late for a student council meeting.
i was used to the stress, however today was just awful. every little thing that could go wrong went wrong. i was late to school because my car broke down, which meant i missed taking the test. i tried to beg my teacher to still let me take it but he only said he'll think about letting me make it up. i NEEDED to take this test, it was a huge part of my grade. it wasn't fair. i gave my presentation for NHS, which went fine. except everyone's presentations were WAY better than mine was. it was obvious the amount of effort and time they spent on it, sure i put effort into mines. i was just missing the time, since i stayed up all night wednesday putting it together. i felt like an idiot. i sat alone at lunch, i only shared my lunch period with one of my friends. but she was busy hanging with her boyfriend. i ended up skipping and just spending the time volunteering at the library. the more hours the better. the day seemed to drag on, especially since i had to stay later. like most if not all the other kids who did student council, we were only doing it for our college applications. i didn't get along well with the other kids. not in the way where we would fight or anything. they were all just so pretentious and snobby. they would always undermind me, as if i could never be an intellectual individual like them. i spent the whole 4 hours i had to stay there wanting to stick my face in a hot pan of oil. when it was all FINALLY over, i sat in my car for a minute. i felt so.. worthless. everything i did didn't feel like enough, maybe it wasn't enough. what's the point of doing all these things if i wasn't even good at any of it? it wasn't long before tears filled my eyes. but i watched as the other kids from student council walked over to their fancy cars. and i realized the last thing i needed was for them to see me crying in car that probably should've been in a junkyard AGES ago. i didn't want to go home, my parents would only make me feel worse. i called tyler and asked if i could come over. he said yes and with that i drove over to his house in silence. my thoughts racing through my head were the only things i could hear. i will never be good enough. for anyone, for anything. what is the point in even trying?
eventually i knocked on tyler's door. to which he answered with a smile. it was a struggle for me to return one back. i didn't say anything at first, tyler was telling me about some story about him and josh. i couldn't focus though, my head was spinning. tyler noticed, he reached out and touched my shoulder lightly. "what's going on y/n?", tyler spoke softly. i tried to shrug it off, but tyler was more stubborn than i was.
"i know you're not okay, what's up?", tyler looked over at me softly. i wanted to tell him not to worry about it. my problems were stupid anyways. but i knew tyler wasn't one to let these kind of things go.
"what is the point of trying if i'll never be good enough.."
"trying to do what?"
"everything.", i let out a sigh.
"all i do is try, try, try. and yet i always fall short every single time i mean- it's exhausting.", as much as i tried to fight it tears fell from my eyes.
"i'm not good enough i-"
"y/n please.", tyler reached out and held my hand.
"you are more than amazing. you are the most hard working, driven person i know."
"you have to say that-"
"i mean it.", my cloudy eyes met tyler's brown ones.
"i think you're more than enough, you have such amazing things ahead of you. and that's all because of your dedication. i'm so proud of you.", i practically fell into tyler's arms. he rubbed my back as he spoke over my muffled sobs.
"you're so perfect to me y/n, i admire you.", those word silenced the negative thoughts pounding in my head. tyler's arms made me feel safe. i finally felt okay. i always knew tyler had a way with words thanks to his music. but this was so much better than that. i finally felt like i was enough.
âlook at me y/n.â, i hesitated for a moment before i lifted my head up. this was the closest weâve ever been, our inches only inches away from each other.
âi think youâre so lovely.â, my cheeks flushed a little bit. tylerâs compliment making my heart skip a beat.
âas long as you think so.â
#twenty one pilots#josh dun#tyler joseph#tylerjosephfanfic#joshua dun#tyler joseph x reader#tyler joseph fanfiction#tyler joseph imagine
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hi hi is it okay if i req kaeya with a reader who has a habit of bouncing her leg all the time and one day he just puts his hand on her thigh and gently rubs to stop her and she just gets really flustered and it leads to bedroom activities <33
MHM! OF COURSE yk what they all say, you ask and you shall receive! (I am so sorry this took longer than it should have, I did not mean for it to do so à«źê°àŸàœČ âžâžÂŽÙ„ Ëâžâž ê±àŸàœČá and i kinda added a few things hope thatâs fine) IM SORRY IF THIS IS SHORT OR NOT AS GOOD I WROTE IT A FEW DAYS AGO AND FINISHED TODAY IM V TIRED đ AND IM SORRY ITS NOT WHAT YOU EXPECTED I HAD A BIT OF TROUBLE
BOLD AS EVER.
â featuring . kaeya alberich x fem!reader
â warnings / content warnings . nsfw. slight semi-public sex at first, fingering, she/her pronouns, thigh riding,, use of nicknames, not proofread, mm i hope this is fine i donât write a lot for the tall males and know a lot about their personalities so i hope this is fine, overall suggestive content, please let me know if i missed a few à»ê°Ő Üž. .ÜžŐê±á || 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
⊠KAEYA . ALBERICH
meetings. ah, meetings. to be honest, you werenât quite fond of them especially if they were hours long, listening to Master Jean and all the other knights talk, giving their own opinions on topics they discuss about, coming up with ways on how to protect monstadt and all those boring things! it was bad enough you were dating the calvary captain, kaeya. every now and then heâd drag you along to meetings with him, heâs always ramble about âmissing youâ or even ridiculous things such as he wouldnât be whole without you by his side, so sweet of him yet so ridiculous! though you never really pay attention to anything master jean says, but oh well.
âmy top priority is to put a stop to anyone or anything who may pose a threat towards monstadt, I expect you all to take this to heart and keep in your minds. this nation is ours, barbatos gave us freedom to live and fight for ourselves with him by our side, we mustnât throw that all away. have we all got that?â she spoke with her head up high, a determined expression on her face. goodness she was always so hard working, you wonder.. does she ever take any breaks from all this difficult work on her plate? your eyes sparkled in awe, you were so caught up on all your other thoughts and wonders about the acting grand master you didnât even realize how much your leg was bouncing from anxiousness, fingers shaking. the calvary captain by your side glanced at you, eyes then fixating on your leg.
he brought his hand down to your side slowly and gently caressing your thigh. âyou alright?â you flinched, face heating up as your body got even warmer as well. âyâyeah!.. iâm just not used to big huge meetings like this, iâm just nervousâ you stuttered bringing your voice down to a whisper, squeezing your thighs closer together. âyou sure? because we can leave this meeting if you want toâ he whispered to you tapping you with his index. ânono! donât worry about it, iâll be fineâ the bouncing of your leg began to slow down by the second as you felt more wayyy calmer now that you were talking with kaeya, although.. this didnât last too long now did it?
all of a sudden, a gasp left your lips. kaeyaâs hands moved up further into your skirt as he stared at you, rubbing your thigh once more as if he was asking for consent, in which you nodded. oh boy, you shouldnât have. kaeya used his hand to lightly flip your skirt, revealing your soaked panties to him. âapologies for this babe.â âwhatever! just get this over with, weâre still in a meeting you know? atleast try to be quiâ mnn!â the calvary captain took your word, shoving your panties aside as he plunged his fingers inside your wet cunt feeling it clench around him already. âyou want me as much as i want you, hm?â âmmh! fuck you kaeya, just be quick with this theres people arounââ two fingers, then three. you prayed to the gods that no other knight can see what you both were doing, trying your absolute hardest to hold back the moans that threatened to leave your throat, god.. kaeyaâs such a jerk sometimes!
his thumb rubbed the softness of your thigh, licking his lips. fuck.. it was not only you that struggled to focus, it was also him. he slightly bit his lip at the sight of red blush forming on your cute little cheeks, swallowing a lump in his throat as he wonders how cute your mouth would look around his cock, cheeks hallowed and taking him so well like the good girl you are.. his fingers continued to pump in and out of you until your pussy spasms around his digits, reaching your orgasm as you came on his fingers.
what a bold jerk. bold as ever.
â buuuwwep !! à«źê°àŸàœČ >âžâžâž< ê±àŸàœČá
âyeah? yeah.. you like that? you like how good your pussy feels when you rub yourself against my thigh like this?â you exhale sharply with teeth clenched and pressing yourself closer against kaeyaâs chest. your hands latched onto his shoulders for dear life, fingers pinching the soft fabric of his clothes as you rolled your hips. rubbing your core harshly against his thigh you pant and groan greedily wanting to feel more of him, moaning his name ever so gently against the shell of his ear. âyou like it when i fingered you with people surrounding us? you poor little thing wouldâve been caught if i fingered you even further..â he reached for the hem of your shirt lifting it up swiftly off your head before taking a tit in his mouth, sucking and licking at it desperately, pinching and pulling at the other. âyou like it when i touch you like that during meetings? getting flustered over me doing things to you, hm? you want people watch me break you next? fuck your brains out until you canât do it no more, sweet thing?â
he grabbed your hips, strong hands helping you rub yourself even more against his thigh feeling heat pooling down from your legs already reaching another orgasm, gripping his shoulders even tighter as you rode him even more desperately, body jolting at the sudden slap on your pussy from him, squirting on him before creating a mess on the sheets and on your boyfriend. âthatâs three, you cum a lot do you? and sometimes my dick isnât even inside you when you do, thatâs impressive.. donât you think?â âthere are days where i want to slap the hell out of you, yâknowâ âaww.. donât be mad babe. can you still handle another round? havenât came inside that pussy of yours yet, gotta help me with that tooâ
WAHA IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ANON!! WORST OF ALL, ITS SO SHORT WAHAHAHA IM SORRY à«ź ă
ă
ă
á man.. SO SORRY EVERYONE IM GONNA NAP NOW, ILL CORRECT THINGS LATER â Maryse
#áàœČàŒá«àŸ maryseâs diary à«źê°Ë¶ËÌ” ^ ËÌ”Ë”ïżœïżœá#genshin imagines#genshin impact smut#genshin smut#kaeya imagines#kaeya x reader#kaeya x you#kaeya smut#genshin headcanons#genshin kaeya#kaeya à«źê°àŸàœČ >âžâžâž< ê±àŸàœČá#WAHAA SO SORRY ILL CORRECT THINGS LATER#i was too tired writing this i hope itâs alright atleast wahahaha iâm sorry :
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A Hard Time (Vicky Losada x reader)
Warnings: none.
Description: Vicky and reader are married but play for different clubs, so she decides to surprise reader after a tough couple of months apart.
Notes: requested. âreader and vicky are togther and say it's a weekend that vicky hasn't got a game so.goes to surprise reader at a Barca gameâ
Word count: 1819
It had been almost two months at this point since you had last seen your wife, and it was starting to take its toll on you. All you did was get up, go to training, go home and wait until she too had finished training and was available to call you. You would then spend the rest of the day on FaceTime, until your phone died, or you fell asleep.
Vicky could tell you were struggling, not that you would tell her, you didnât want her to worry about you, but she could tell. From the way you always answered her calls within seconds of her pressing the call button, to your insistence that you werenât too tired to keep talking, even though the bags under your eyes always gave you away.
She missed you too, in all the years you had been together, you had never been apart for longer than a week or so. But since her move to city, the two of you had struggled to find more than a few spare weeks here and there to spend together during the season. And since you had spent the summer playing in the euros, and she had her own busy punditry schedule, you hadnât had much time then either.
Vicky couldnât help but feel like it was her fault you were so low, she was the one who had left Barcelona. She knew you understood why she had to leave, and you had supported her throughout it all, but deep down she had a feeling like she was abandoning you. You had always assured her you didnât think about it like that at all, and she believed you, but she still felt it.
It had been over a year now since she had moved to city, and the distance had been getting easier to deal with. Until everything with the national team started happening. She understood, of course she did, she had been through basically the exact same thing, and you had been there for her through it all. But she couldnât be there for you if she was in Manchester and you were back in Barcelona, and she hated not being able to hold you as you cried.
All this had led to her decision to fly out to Barcelona to see you. With you no longer being called up to the national team, it meant you had a large chunk of the international break off, and you planned to spend the whole time with your wife. You just needed to get this game against Real Madrid out of the way first.
For once you were in a good mood, your teammates all knew why, and it wasnât because you were playing in the El clĂĄsico, though you did always enjoy these games. It was because in a few days time you would be picking your wife up from the airport back in Barcelona and spending four full uninterrupted days with her. What you wouldnât give for it to be longer, but right now you would take all you could get.
However, unbeknownst to you, Vicky had decided to fly out a few days early, so she could watch and support you and her old team.
The day dragged if you were honest. All you could think about was finishing the game and getting on the train back home where you would be one step closer to seeing your wife in person once more. But of course you were clock watching, and so the minutes dragged by for what felt like the longest day of your life until eventually you found yourself on the pitch warming up before the game.
Vicky sat in the stands, a hat and glasses on in order to ensure you didnât recognise her too soon. She smiled to herself as she watched you warm up with the team, she couldnât wait to hold you in her arms again. You seemed happy in the moment, you were laughing along to something with Mariona. Vicky found herself feeling relieved that you were still finding happiness in smaller moments like this, even if overall you were having a hard time.
The game was pretty rough, as they all are against your rivals, and you had taken a fair number of bumps throughout it so far. Vicky had been screaming along with the other Barca fans in the stands around her telling the ref to sort herself out and actually make some calls. You could have sworn that youâd heard her voice amongst the fans, and several times your head had swivelled to scan the stands in search of her face. Of course you never found it, she was in Manchester, you just really missed her that was all.
With about 15 minutes of the game left you were subbed off, Irene taking your place next to Mapi in the back line. You walked slowly down the side of the pitch from where you had exited, clapping to the travelling fans as you walked by them. Thatâs when you saw her face. It was just a flash and as soon as you blinked it was gone. You blinked a few more times and shook your head to yourself.
Sitting down on the bench next to Keira, who had also just come off, she handed you a jacket and bib.
âI think Iâm going insaneâ, you muttered, partially to yourself but loud enough that the English woman next to you could hear.
âWhyâs that?â, she asked you curiously, a look of both amusement and confusion on her face.
âI swear I just saw Vicky in the crowdâ, you shook your head again and rubbed your eyes, maybe your lack of sleep was starting to make you see things.
âMaybe sheâs come to surprise you?â, Keira suggested, nudging your shoulder, âor maybe you are just going insaneâ, she continues suggesting when you stay silent. Again you donât respond, just looking down at the ground at your feet instead, âyouâre allowed to miss herâ, she says now, getting a little more serious, âsheâs your wife, youâve spent most of your careers together until nowâ, she wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her side, âjust a couple more days until sheâs back here anywayâ.
âAnd then sheâll be gone again almost straight awayâ, you mumbled, not really meaning for her to hear.
âHey donât think like that, itâll just taint the time you have together if thatâs all you can think aboutâ, if you hadnât known Keira for a while now, through Vicky of course, you would have been embarrassed to be taking advice from someone almost 6 years younger than you, but you also knew that she had quite literally been in this position before.
âYouâre right, youâre rightâ, you sat up, your eyes settling on watching the remaining few minutes of the game, and were just in time to see Frido score. You cheered with the rest of the bench, your mind briefly occupied by something other than missing the love of your life.
ââ
The game ended 0-4, and Barcaâs victorious streak over Real Madrid remained intact. You were celebrating with the rest of the team when you saw her again. You blinked, rubbing your eyes and when you opened them she was gone again. You were definitely going insane you thought to yourself. You wound your way through the moving celebrating bodies around you and found Keira again.
You didnât say anything but she wrapped her arm over your shoulder and you celebrated with her before everyone started heading inside to change.
Walking up the corridor towards to locker room you heard a familiar voice and as soon as you rounded the corner you recognised her immediately.
âJennifer Hermosoâ, you announced her name loudly. Jenni was one of your best friends, you had played together for Spain and several club teams for a long time. You had missed her since sheâd moved to Mexico, though you had to admit, her being missing from your life had been largely overshadowed by how much you had been missing Vicky. Nevertheless, it was great to see her and as you approached she wrapped her arms around you in a classic bone crushing Jenni hug.
âI missed you my friendâ, she said in your ear, and proceeded to lift you off your feet slightly.
âI missed you tooâ, you giggled as she held onto you.
âJenni, youâd better not be making a move on my wife!â, a voice shouted from down the hallway.
Your face dropped at the voice. It couldnât be. Jenni dropped you to the ground and you immediately whipped around to look for the source of the voice you had missed so much.
You found her quickly, she stood a little way back up the hallway where youâd come in from, and you froze. It was like you were too scared to move any closer, for her face to become clearer and reveal itself to be someone other than Vicky.
âYou better still have time to catch up with me laterâ, Jenni whispered in your ear and as soon as you were finished, itâs like her voice had cut the cables to the breaks that had your feet rooted to the ground. You took off running towards your wife, throwing yourself into her arms once you were close enough. She had brace herself for it so caught you easily.
âIs it really you?â, you sobbed into her neck.
âItâs me, itâs meâ, she held you tight. It was her, even after being away from her for a few months you could tell it was her. Her smell, she feel of her arms wrapped around you, it was her.
You pulled back a bit, though kept your legs wrapped around her waist so she could easily hold you up, and held her face in your hands, âI thought I was going insaneâ.
âWhat?â, she questioned, she had expected you to say youâd missed her, or at least something along those lines.
âI knew I saw you in the crowd during the game, and again just after it finishedâ, you informed her, âbut you kept disappearing, I thought I was losing my mind seeing you everywhereâ, you laughed lightly.
âWell Iâm hereâ, she smiled up at you, ânow give me a kissâ, she had barely finished her sentence before your lips were on hers.
Her lips felt exactly how you remembered them as they moved against your own. Her hands squeezed your hips gently and you hummed into the kiss.
âOkay okayâ, a voice interrupted the two of you, âsave that for laterâ, Mapi laughed as Vicky lowered you back to the ground. You rolled your eyes at your blonde teammate as she flung her arms over your shoulders and guided the two of you into the locker room, âwe have a win to celebrate firstâ.
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Starring Tokyo Revengers Men In â° Maury
Cast Line Up Manjiro, Draken, Keisuke, Nahoya, Kazutora and Souya
Rated PG-13
Summary â° How Would your Men React to you dragging them on Maury to Air out Your Dirty Laundry on TV and Question The Paternity of Your kids?? Some Crack for The Holidays Baby! (Highkey Sad and Funny at the same time)
No Pronouns up In Here!
Manjiro âMikeyâ Sano
The Pre stage Video:âI love my kids and I have always been there for them. They are my life and this whole situation Breaks my heartâ Manjiro states while the wind blows his hair back
â° Manjiro is calm, cool, and collected while walking out on stage, Not an ounce of ignorance Radiating Off Him as the Audience cheer for him
â° Close his eyes and when he opens them, They are on you like what the fuck?? while you air out dirty Laundry or talk about people you fucked on the side âOh I didn't know all thatâ He says as his stomach flips
â° His head swimming at this moment and the results can change how he acts
â° All his friends in the crowd as calm but headstrong witnesses of all the things Manjiro has done for your baby but Keisuke and Nahoya Booing You whenever you speak
â° âI just want to hear the Results to see if I am the father,â Manjiro Says calmly before glaring at you
You Are The Father!
â° He's crying from Happiness while all of His Friends cheer for him â I AM THE FATHERâ Manjiro says while he lifts you up and spins you around
You Are Not The Father!
â° All his friends booing you while you run backstage as Manjiro cries âThe Fuck am I supposed to do Now??â Manjiro says while he hugs Draken
Ken âDrakenïżœïżœïżœ Ryuguji
The Pre stage Video: â I Don't care what anybody has to say, I am Here for My baby. I've been there for my daughter before she was born. I was there when she took her first breath, Her first steps, and said her first words. That baby Is My Daughter.â Draken says while crossing his arms
â° Draken Ignores The audience even though they're cheering for him as He approaches you
âYou really using My daughter for your five seconds of fame? On National Television? You disgust meâ Draken spat out to you before greeting Maury
â° Looks at you with pure disgust as you talk about your man on the side âI hope he was worth losing your family overâ Draken says while cracking his Knuckles
â° âFor Our Daughter's Sake, you better hope those results say I'm the Father, cause this? This relationship?? It's dead.â Draken Says while shaking
You Are The Father!
â° Hops out of the chair so hard that the chair falls â I knew It! Now let me hold my daughter.â Draken Says while he avoids your arms
You Are Not The Father!
â° Toss the chair to the side before walking backstage â I prayed that you wouldn't hurt our daughter like this. I'm still going to be in her life, She deserves a good dadâ Draken says before asking you to leave him alone
Keisuke Baji
The Pre stage Video: On My momma! I did everything for MY Baby! I bought Diapers, Formula, Breast Pumps, and Whatever MY Baby Needs! I think it's bullshit I am here right now when I have been the Daddy the whole time!
â° Keisuke Brings his Momma with him on stage and Her Presence changes his Behavior
â° Doesn't pay the boos attention because he wanna talk to you
â° âYou bring me on TV to Break my Heart?? You a Bit- A bitter personâ Keisuke says while eyeing his mom
â° âMy Son, He might not be the brightest but he knows who his baby isâ Keisuke Nodded his Head along to what his momma said until he realized she called him dumb and looked at his mom like The hell?? (Becomes a meme)
â° Chifuyu is in the crowd in Support of Keisuke cause he knows shit can turn bad at any moment
â° âRead The Result Maury That says I'm the father,â Keisuke says while crossing his arms
You Are The Father!
â° Jumping Up and down before hugging his Mom and You â I knew it! I never doubted that I was the father for a second!â Keisuke says while his eyes get tears in them
You Are Not The Father
â° âYou fuc- oooh You Bi- You better be glad My mom is hereâ Keisuke says while walking backstage to cry with his mom and chifuyu.
Nahoya âSmileyâ Kawata
The Pre stage Video: âI Can't Believe They brought me on TV to question the Paternity of The babies I been busting My Nuts, Balls, and Asshole TO HELP RAISE? Where is Kutcher at? Cause I know this a Jokeâ Nahoya says while grinning like a madman
â° Walk out on the stage giving the finger to the Audience when they boo him âYeah Boo this! cause I don't give a fu- oh you were gonna bleep me huh? I know it cost you moneyâ He laughs before sitting down
â° Grinning while You talk about your side man while he clenching his fist
â° âYou really Talking Talking since you on camara huh?â Nahoya grins before shifting in his seat
â° Souya in the crowd Bawling â We did everything for those Babies! Those are My nephew and nieces!â Souya said while tears pours down his face
â° âRead Those Results Before I trash this Placeâ Nahoya huffs while his smile deepens
You Are The Father!
â° Hugging his brother before storming off stage while you reach out for him â Nah. Don't Touch me. Humiliating My babies, Souya and Me like this. The fuck you thought?? i was gonna kiss you? With the same mouth you been sucking -Bleep- With? Hell Naw -Bleep-â
You Are Not The Father!
â° Tossing Chairs before storming off while Souya races after him âThis Stinking -Bleep- Gonna do this to My babies? This some bullshit Manâ He says while crying as Souya holds him close
Kazutora Hanemiya
The Pre stage Video: â I may not be the best Daddy but I don't deserve this. I've been there since day one and now I'm being told my entire world might not be mine. Ma-Man I can't do thisâ Kazutora says while he tears up
â° Ignore the Audience while Walking up to you âWhat did I do to deserve this?? Please Just Tell me?â Kazutora cries
â° Can Barely stand Hearing about who you been with and Nealy walks off the stage twice â I can't believe this is happening to me right nowâ Kazutora says while burying his head in his lap
â° Chifuyu and Keisuke in the crowd for support while Kazutora bounces his Leg waiting for the results
â°âPlease Maury Please Tell me I am the fatherâ Kazutora begs
You Are The Father!
â° âI knew it! Gimme those Papers Maury, I'm Gonna frame Them!â Kazutora Says while hugging his friends, âWe can work through thisâ Kazutora says as he hugs you
You Are Not The Father!
â° Kazutora looks at you in shock before walking off the stage to cry as Keisuke and Chifuyu walk past your crying form, âHe still My sonâ Kazutora cries into the shoulder of Keisuke while Chifuyu pats his back
Souya âAngryâ Kawata
The Pre stage Video: âI know I am the daddy of my babies! This Breaks My Hear-â Souya Cries before Nahoya cuts him off, âNah Baby Bro don't do that! That smelly Hoe out here using My Nephews to hurt My brother? On Television?? On Maury??? You don't disrespect The Kawata twins! We will ride on your whole famil-â Nahoya barks before the video cuts off
â° Souya Crying while the Audience Boos him when he walks out as Nahoya stands up
â° â Shut The Hell up and Keep those lips shut with all that -Bleep-â Nahoya says while laughing
â° Tears won't stop falling down Souya's face as you talk about your side pieces âI-I'm just here for my sonsâ Souya Says as he drops his head while Nahoya screams âHead up Baby Bro! Head up!â
â° âPlease Please Tell me I am the Daddy Mauryâ Souya sobs
You Are The Father!
â° Souya Hugs Nahoya before walking off the stage â why would you put us Through all this?â Souya asked while he hug you close to him
You Are Not The Father!
â° Nahoya clowning you while He comforts his sobbing brother â You Stanking -Bleep- Go on run, Shoulda be Running from all That -Bleep-â Nahoya Yells as you run off stage
Likes, Comments, Reblogs, And Asks are Appreciated & Loved
Please Donât Steal My Shit
#sano manjiro x reader#Mikey x reader#draken x reader#ken ryuguji x reader#Baji Keisuke x reader#keisuke x reader#nahoya x reader#smiley x reader#angry x reader#Souya x reader#kazutora hanemiya x reader#Kazutora x reader#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers x black!reader#Crack
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SIC 'EM
Chapter 1: Fetch
A/N: We're FINALLY ready to get started here! So excited to share my work with you guys after talking about it for so long. Each chapter will come with its own warnings, tags, etc. but the chapters are not stand-alone. It's... more just because I am a pantser and not a planner so lord knows what will happen in the future.
Pairings: M!OC x F!OC, future M!OC x Tommy Shelby
Warnings: mentions of period accurate anti-Romani racism, mental health issues, generally just being a PB fic
Summary: Tommy Shelby needs a rat for the Grand National at Aintree Racecourse. Runaway lovers Samuel Lovell and Florence-Maria Lee need the money. It's a bulletproof plan, an easy job, and a chance to make things right with the Lee family... so what other choice does Sam have?
The other Lee girl was meant to meet him along the road halfway between Haydock and Collins Green just over twenty minutes ago, according to Tommyâs pocket watch. Esme had promised Tommy that Florence-Maria would make good on her word, but her lateness was beginning to wear on his resolve. Still, he had no choice but to wait, cigarette after cigarette burning down to embers at the tips of his fingers. Thomas Shelby was a man who valued the soldierly punctuality that would have been the difference between life and death on the Front. Esmeâs sister or not, Florence was still an unknown variable, and the far travels of the Lee family could prove difficult if it came to tracking the young woman down. If she did not want to be found, she would not be found.
She certainly had her fair share of reasons to balk at their meeting. If Johnny Dogsâ story was to be believed, Florence was the first to object to the deal between the Shelbys and the Lees. The sisters were best friends, the closest in age of all of Zilphaâs children. Esme was Florenceâs whole world. Strike one against the Shelbys, then, for taking Esme away. Johnâs account of the young woman was that she was skittish and not easily comforted by the promise of peace between the families. Tommy himself remembered seeing a girl roughly Esmeâs age shying away from Cousin Nipperâs offer of a dance, flinching as though a touch from their accursed family could kill. Strike two. Most compelling of all was Esmeâs own warning, delivered with the pride of an older sister: Florence does not take unnecessary risks. And Tommy was asking a very, very risky favor. Strike three.
He took a long drag of his cigarette, the smoke thick and acrid as he let the wind carry his sigh away. The prospect of making this deal work was too tempting to give up now. It kept Tommy leaning against his car, resolutely opposing the strong wind buffeting his side, the slightly-too-warm late spring sunlight beating down on his jacketed shoulders. If this plan went well, the Blinders could expand to Aintree Racecourse, taking the Grand National Steeplechase and cementing a reputation in Northwest England. While their security with Solomons and his Yiddishers meant they already had a place in booming London, the idea of staking a claim on Liverpool and Manchester was tempting. Tommy was nothing if not enterprising.
A low snort alerted him to the presence of a stout black filly cresting the top of the hill before him, a petite woman astride her unsaddled back. There was no mistaking her: this was certainly Florence. Her resemblance to Esme was evident, from her upturned nose to the brunette curls brushing her shoulders. Even the way she carried herself was familiar, bearing the unmistakable poise and dignity of a daughter of Zilpha Lee. Her dismount from the horse was gentle, nearly soundless even with the oversized riding boots she wore. It wasnât until Florence turned to face him that Tommy could see the slight curvature of her lower belly below the loose fabric of her dress. When she caught the direction of his gaze, she pulled her colorful shawl more tightly over her abdomen, frowning slightly. Ah. That certainly explained her sudden departure from the Lee family caravans. Her mother was a stern and practical woman. If Zilpha were to find out about her daughterâs pregnancy, she would likely have been married off immediately to save her girl and the family the embarrassment. Perhaps to someone she didnât know, whom Zilpha would approve of far more than her man. Not unlike how she and I married off her sister, Tommy thought, not without a small pang of guilt.
âThomas Shelby, then?â She called out to him from a distance, keeping herself close to her filly. God, she even sounded like her sister: birdlike and light, but with a sharp edge of wariness.
âAye,â he responded. âFlorence-Maria Lee?â She nodded, glancing over him suspiciously. Undoubtedly, she already knew about the razor blades tucked unobtrusively into the brim of his cap. That wouldnât help matters. Slowly, Tommy removed the cap and lay it out on the hood of his car, palms raised placatingly. The tension in her shoulders unwound slightly, though there was still a stubbornness to her voice when she spoke.
âHe told me this morning he didnât want to see you,â she called out. âSaid he didnât want a part in the Peaky devilsâ business.â
It wasnât ideal, that. It was always a possibility, coming all the way out here only to be turned away by the man heâd been hoping to see. But he would be damned if he gave up now, when the North was so close to being his that he could practically taste the factory soot in the air. âWhat would it take to change his mind?â Florence tilted her head, silently scrutinizing some unknown detail on Tommyâs face as she brought up a hand to stroke the cheek of the little black filly. Tommy had seen this type of horse often, when heâd been young. Only broad, compact horses were strong enough to pull a vardo across miles of open plain without complaint. He wondered if this was the sort of creature that Florenceâs man worked with often: sturdy, dependable, solid. Hardly the leggy, lean build of a pedigree racehorse, but it had a unique charm that was difficult to deny. Rough-hewn and efficient, they were all that was needed with none of the frills.
âSheâs a beauty,â Tommy said, breaking the silence as he jutted his chin towards the horse. âWhatâs her name?â
Florence relaxed a bit further, allowing the little horse to press her velvety nose in the cup of her palm. âFleet Ypres,â she responded proudly. âSheâs practically his baby. Not for sale, nor barter. So donât try.â
Tommy nodded, daring to approach the horse, who eagerly flared her nostrils to examine the newcomer. From his left jacket pocket he withdrew an envelope stuffed with moneyâ Florenceâs share of the payment for her share of the negotiating âhanding it over so the woman could safely tuck it behind the plain neckline of her dress. From his right, he procured a small pink taffy, which he unwrapped and fed to the eager horse. âHe fought in Belgium, then?â
She didnât respond immediately, instead clicking her tongue at the filly so that she would sidestep closer to the wooden fence along the side of the road. Using the rails as leverage, she mounted Fleet Ypres carefully, a hand resting protectively on her small bump as she pulled herself upright and adjusted her shawl again.
âHeâs in a bad way today,â she commented in lieu of an answer. âYou were a soldier. Youâd know how it is.â
All too well, Tommy thought bitterly, the phantom scent of thick, burnt-sweet opium smoke assaulting his nostrils at the memory of one too many sleepless nights ending in a drugged-out haze. âIâve seen men behave in all manner of ways, coming home.â
Florence gave him a sympathetic wan smile. She held his gaze contemplatively, a furrow between her brows as another strong wind blew against her back, making Fleet Ypres shiver and shift her balance. Her comfort with silence struck Tommy as unusual. Growing up in a household as crowded and hectic as his own, it was difficult to develop the patience to be so still. Florence, despite her own large, close-quartered family, seemed to possess this affinity for quiet. He respected that; it took discipline and an even temperament. She was exactly the type of person Tommy could rely on to keep this negotiation running smoothly.
A creeping chill settled over them as a thick cloud blotted out the midday sun. In the overcast light, he could see where Florence had become different from her older sister. Where Esmeâs defiant gaze was fueled by stubbornness and fire, the younger Lee girl held a quiet desperation behind her cautious dark eyes. Her cheeks were beginning to sharpen despite her youthfully round face, something heâd learned to recognize when food was scarce and his younger brothers were at risk of going hungry for too many nights in a row. The combination of these factors would have typically made him wary, like some sort of primordial survival instinct developed to recognize when a person was at their breaking point. Once again, the girl (consciously or not, Tommy wasnât sure) protectively rested a hand on her lower belly. No, he thought, not a threat. Someone in her position wouldnât risk ruining the offer heâd laid out for her.
Florence was the first to break the silence with a resigned huff and a shrug, the tips of her ears pinking with the confession: âFine, letâs go then.â
Tommy blinked. âPardon?â
âHeâs waiting to speak to you. I needed to vet you out first.â Florence gave him another critical once-over, waiting on his reaction. âSorry for the delay, Mr. Shelby.â
It took a moment for Tommy to realize what Florence was saying. Then, half a second later, that sheâd been misleading him on purpose. The mix between relief that the tension had broken and irritation that sheâd outmaneuvered him must have shown on his face, judging by the slight cheeky smirk the Lee girl was struggling to suppress. Sorry my arse, he thought. Youâve been conducting this conversation to the exact tune you wanted. I just happened to sing in key. âVery well,â he sighed, turning towards his car and placing his hat neatly back on his head. âAlright. You have the money, now Iâll need the address.â
Florence scoffed, as if the very idea of such a thing was ridiculous. âThereâs no address, Mr. Shelby.â
He raised an eyebrow. âMeaning?â
She turned Ypres back down the road sheâd rode in on, the horseâs long tail catching the breeze in an unexpectedly graceful about-face. âIf youâre going to find Sam Lovell,â she shouted over her shoulder, âyouâre going to need to think like Sam Lovell.â Fleet Ypres kicked up a cloud of dust behind her as she cantered off, leaving Tommy to hop into the driverâs seat and start the ignition on his Model-T.
Fuckâs sake. He knew enough about Sam to know exactly where she was headed. He would need to follow behind quickly and keep his eyes peeled for a little red vardo, the one that had gone missing from the Lee caravans just a few months ago. That was the last Zilpha had seen of her daughter, and the last anyone had seen of the elusive Samuel Lovell. From what Esme had said of him, perhaps thatâs been for the best. With that thought in mind, he sped off down the dirt path, following Florenceâs lead.
At a canter, the horse wasnât overly fast, but she had a steady gait. That speed wouldnât do on the track, Tommy reasoned, but it was well enough for a caravan horse. Certainly well enough for Florence, who rode at least ten lengths from the car without a second glance behind her or an ounce of concern for her delicate condition. Even with the rumble of the car engine just out of sight, something startling to a horse with little to no city experience to be heard of, the little filly kept her course without a hint of anxiety. Bomb-proof, he thought, and a wave of relief brought a smile to his face. A horse like that could only come from a handler of integrity, a man who understood mutual respect. The type of man Tommy could do business with and walk away from without sweating over the fear of a bullet in his back.
The path Florence took him down grew dusty and dotted with sparse patches of grass, leading them away from the main road to Haydock. Past here, only tip carts and sure-footed horses disturbed the dirt, the natural grooves in the earth rattling the chassis of the automobile as it sped carelessly over each bump. Tommy could just make out forked sticks left in the grass along the trail as patrin signs urging fellow travelers onward, indicating safe passage and friendly company up ahead.
Just as sunlight broke through the cloud cover, the road curved around a copse of thin trees to reveal their destination: a small, red vardo bedecked with hand-painted blue and yellow flowers. Outside sat a tent and cooking fire, and just before that was another horse tied to a stake in the ground. The chestnut gelding was snorting and pawing at the ground, ears tilted back in warning as a tall, dark-haired man stood patiently outside of kicking range. Florence slowed Fleet Ypres to a stop to dismount by the vardo, and Tommy pulled to the side of the road, closing the car door behind him as gently as he could so as not to unsettle the hotheaded gelding further.
Florence and the manâ Sam, he presumed âconversed in hushed Angloromani, darting furtive glances back at Tommy as he approached. With one last reassurance that he was fine, that the state heâd woken in had passed, Sam kissed Florenceâs forehead sweetly.
His eyes were the first thing Tommy noticed. Large and dove grey, they gave Sam a distinctly melancholy appearance, like the sky just before a downpour. The bruise-dark circles just below stuck out harshly against pale, sallow skin. Despite this, Tommy couldnât find himself to be put off by his appearance. Sickly and unassuming as he seemed, he didnât shy away from Tommyâs gaze. Call it simple intuition or call it recognition of a fellow soldier, but Tommy could tell that this man was not the same one who had enlisted. He mustâve been handsome before the war.
âMr. Shelby,â Sam greeted, wiping his calloused palms on his farrierâs apron. Tommy removed his driving gloves, shaking his hand firmly. âSam Lovell. Henryâs son.â
âItâs a pleasure to meet you, Samuel. Good to finally see the man Iâve been hearing of,â Tommy drawled, stepping back to take a look at the gelding as a whinny pierced the air. âAnd this is?â
Sam huffed, shaking his head. âMeska. Danny Leeâs new horse.â He rounded the geldingâs front and patted him firmly on the neck, despite the horseâs loud snorting. âHe was sold with an abscess under the left back hoof. Danny-boy dropped him here a while ago to go, ah⊠have a word with the seller,â Sam looked askance at Tommy, quirking an eyebrow knowingly. âAnd to deliver a message from the Peaky Blinders. But you knew that already.â
Tommy pulled out a cigarette for himself, offering one to Sam. He declined. Instead, the man reached into his back pocket and revealed two slices of dried red apple wrapped in a handkerchief, popping one in his mouth and letting the horse cautiously eat the other from the palm of his hand. âGave up smokes after the war. Gives me the shakes.â He sniffed and cleared his throat, trailing a hand along the geldingâs flank until he reached the troublesome hoof, bandaged and padded. âThisâll take some time. Heâs got an attitude, wonât let me near without a fair bit of bribery. But he oughta be good for riding by the Appleby fair, God permitting.â
âYouâre still a godly man after everything, Samuel?â Tommy lit his cigarette, letting it hang from his mouth as smoke curled around his head.
It was an innocent question, nothing more than a weak attempt at peeling back the layers of Samâs guarded past, but it earned him a glare as cold and dead as still water in the trenches. Perhaps it was the change in light, the overcast above thickening as it cloaked the sun, but the circles under his eyes seemed to grow darker, deep and sunken. The man's lips were chapped and anxiously bitten to scabbing in places. It didnât take a soldierâs experience to know that Sam was exhausted, laden with the kind of weight that didnât shake with a good nightâs sleep. If he could even manage such a thing, he thought. Tommy had seen men fall victim to their own minds with a lack of sleep in the Somme, going skittish and paranoid like cornered animals. Yet the look in Samâs eyes wasnât desperate, but fixed. Focused. It was a dizzying thing to be the subject of.
âYou keep calling me Samuel,â he muttered, the ghost of a scouse accent coating his words as he stepped into Tommyâs space, breathing in his smoke. âGod has heard, it means. Dâyou think God heard me in Ypres?â He leaned in close, right next to Tommyâs ear, lowering his voice to just a whisper. âBecause Iâll tell you a secret, Tom. I did a lot of begging for it all to stop.â
Tommy steeled himself, slowed his breathing. It would do him no good to give in to the discomfort and back away, to put distance between himself and the war being stirred up in Samâs brain. Whatever battle Sam had been fighting this morning had evidently not been won as easily as heâd told Florence it had. While Tommy did not come here looking for a confrontation, it was difficult to determine if Sam knew as muchâ or, rather, whether his mind could recognize the difference between friend and foe so far into this waking nightmare. The way he spat out Godâs name felt like a provocation, tempting Tommy to fight back just to give Sam a reason to bite. Besides the fact that he and the heavens were no longer on speaking terms, Tommy knew better than to escalate. Knew that this was just the jagged edge the Western Front had left behind when it ripped Sam away from the safety of home. Something in the tension the other man held, an anticipatory rigor, told him that he had to keep playing his part in the verbal standoff if he wanted this conversation to go anywhere. He had to meet the soldier where he was at, even if that place was a trench only Sam could see. âAnd did God answer?â
Sam was the one to back up, hunching slightly to grin sardonically with that same ghostly eye contact. âOh, yes. He sent me a bullet, right here,â He tapped a rib on his right side. âNearly sent me up to my maker, it did. But the week I was due back on the front lines, the war ended. Lucky me.â He straightened up but didnât move farther, just glared down at him like a priest at the pulpit. âSo yeah, you could say that Iâm a proper faithful man, Thomas.â Donât fucking ask again, his tone said.
âGood.â Tommy looked him up and down slowly. Analytically. Waiting for the bite to follow his bark. âI like to see devotion.â
Samâs nostrils flared, betraying his irritation that the older man would not stand down. He cut an imposing figure, Tommy had to admit. It was a shame how hard he tried to shrink into himself before this disruption, lean limbs pulled in and shoulders hunched as though he could hide in plain sight. This, in contrast, thisâŠintensity was a force to be reckoned with. This was someone Tommy could use on his side. He had to teach him to harness that anger, refine him the same way he honed Arthur to a razor-sharp edge and wielded him like a weapon. Break him the way he might break a horse. Train him the way he might train a bloodhound. Their eye contact held until Florence stepped into his peripheral, a hand on Samâs shoulder to guide him back gently. She whispered a question to him, inaudible over the sound of the geldingâs concerned huffs, to which he responded with a tight smile and slight shake of the head. The warm glow of Tommyâs cigarette quickly reached his lips, and he crushed the butt of it into the dirt with the heel of his shoe.
They didnât have money, that much was clear. Between Samâs unhealthy pallor and the frayed hem on Florenceâs dress, they gave the impression of a couple working themselves ragged in an attempt to make ends meet. Tommyâs offer could get them out of the cold for the winter, put them up in a flat in the city where the factories could use a blacksmith. That wouldnât appeal so much to someone like Sam, accustomed as he was to clean, fresh air and the sensitivities of horses, but it was work. Work meant food on the table. That realization must have reached Sam while he listened to Florence, because something like dread settled over his face as he took in the difference in their appearances: Tommy, clean-cut and offering him a job, and Sam, hunger gnawing behind his ribcage and no family left to take shelter with.
âAlright,â Sam returned to Tommy, the ice beginning to melt away from his pale eyes. âIâll consider doing business with you, but itâll be no tricks, aye? If I donât like your plan, or if you change shit up on me day-of, I walk. Got a deal?â
Tommy nodded, emboldened by this show of trust. âDeal.â
Each man spat into his bare palm, and they shook on it.
Sam did not like Tommy. Not at first, at least. He carried himself as if he werenât the upstart head of a Brummie street gang; an ill-fitting hand-me-down from his father that he had only just grown into, if heâd heard correctly. The tailored suit and shiny dress shoes were a poor fit for the dusty country road, as though heâd been planning to meet over crystal tumblers of gin and tonic at a fucking white tablecloth restaurant rather than the middle of a field miles from anything resembling a town. Sam had no such pretenses. Tommy knew he was just a farrier, knew he was the son of a farrier, knew he was dirt poor and barely scraping by even without the baby. But if Tommy wanted to flaunt his new status and play at the image of old money, he could go right on ahead. It cost him nothing when Sam knew he could see right through it.
Sam had to give him credit for one thing, thoughâ he was a good businessman. The plan was solid, and the offer was just steep enough to be tempting while realistic enough to be trustworthy. He hardly had to act to fill the role heâd been set to play, just keep his eyes and ears open and his mouth shut at Aintree Racecourse. Tommy needed someone to integrate into the regular staff of farriers, veterinarians, trainers, and stableboys milling about the racecourse over the course of the two weeks leading up to the race, learning the ins and outs of the venue and discovering the weak points in security. After every few days heâd report to their go-between, Paul Knightâ which he was sure was not the manâs real name âwho was identifiable as a big bloke missing half a pinkie who would wait for him at the Queens Arms pub. But on Grand National day, his role would be the silent, inconspicuous observer posing as yet another nameless grunt in the stables, tracking the movements of every piece on the chessboard: the jockeys, the coppers, the bookies. Up until the minutes before the races start. From the bar, heâd create a distraction: a staged fight with another of the Blinders over something stupid and typical, like betting or women or offhand remarks. Heâd involve others. Make a scene. And, with the Blindersâ help, their scuffle would escalate into an all-out pub brawl. The coppers would have no choice but to flood the scene just to untangle the whole mess, and Sam would flee. With no coppers and no eyes on the bookies, the Blinders could burn their permits and rob them of their earnings. A variation on the Epsom scheme, Tommy had said. A modus operandi in the making.
With the price Tommy was willing to pay for his cooperation, it was impossible to say no. He had a child on the way, a family to look after, a home to be the man of. There was already no other choice for him. The age of automobiles was upon him, and the type of people who could afford to pay good money for a good farrier were no longer the people who required his services. He wouldnât be many clientsâ first choice; it was easier to send the Rrom on his way and pay a higher price for someone whose parentage they respected. Anyone who wasnât like him.
So there was no other choice. Thatâs what he told himself. Itâs what he told Florence, later, when they were alone and settling in for the night. There was no other choice, and the money would be enough to keep them afloat, and she deserved to rest while he made things work. That he would take care of her. That he always did.
âFia,â he whispered to her, fingers carding through her curls. Long ago, Florence-Maria became just Fia, and the name had stuck tighter than a burr in a wild coltâs mane. âFia, listen. Itâs just one job.â
She sighed, one heaping lungful of air saying more than words could. When it was just the two of them, words were hardly necessary anyway. âItâs always just one job with those men,â she muttered into his bare chest, âand then before you know it itâs just another job. And another. And a horse. And a few guns. And some cash. And a night in a cell.â And your big sister, he thought. It went unspoken.
âYeah, well, next time Iâll just tell âem to fuck off.â He kissed the top of her head. âJust this time, Iâll do it. Itâs not much effort, and a lot of money besides. The racecourseâll pay me for the honest work on top of that. Theyâll be none the wiser.â
She pouted. Sam couldnât see it, but he could certainly feel it against his skin, the way her jaw tightened and her lower lip stuck out just slightly. He resisted the urge to poke that scowl, just to make her laugh. Something about this moment felt like no laughing matter.
After a moment of silence, she spoke up, her voice small and quiet: âI didnât like the way he talked to you.â
Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes with the confidence of a man who knew he couldnât be seen from her angle. âHe hardly did, Fia. Puffed himself up like a rooster and said the vaguest shit you ever did hear, then it was right to business.â
âI donât like the way he looked at you, then,â she moved, propping herself up with a hand on her cheek so that her chin rested on his shoulder. âLike you were a horse at auction.â
Like a piece of meat, more like. He shuddered. âAnd what if youâre wrong, eh? What if I do my job and go on my way, and the Peaky Blinders just leave us be?â
Florence shrugged, still skeptical. âWell, if Iâm proven wrong, then Iâm wrong.â
âMy Fia? Proven wrong?â Sam gaped at her, gasping dramatically. âHell might freeze over before I hear you admit that.â âWanker.â That, at least, provoked a snort and a poorly-restrained grin to break out over her face. She wriggled up until she was partially propped upright by the pillows behind her, then took Samâs hand and placed it right over her bump. A flicker of sadness shone behind her eyes for half a second. âJust⊠donât let them keep you from being her father, alright?â
Sam grinned, scooting so that they were close again. âHer? Youâre convinced weâre having a girl?â
âOh, we are.â
âNah, weâre having a boy. I know because I prayed.â He pressed his palms together and looked skyward, âOh please God, send me a son! Send me a son so that Iâm not stuck being nagged by two mares and a daughter and a wife all at the same timeââ
She cackled, leaning down and bumping their foreheads together. âSam, you canât just say Iâm your wife!â
âGotta say that to keep the Big Man happy, eh?â Sam rolled so that he was hovering over her, nose-to-nose. âHow else am I gonna get my prayers answered? Not with sex out of wedlock and spiriting you away from home, thatâs for sure.â
That golden smile of hers deflated slowly, turning bittersweet as she stroked an overgrown lock of black hair away from his forehead. Ah. So thatâs what this was about.
Sam sat back on his heels, taking her slender, work-calloused hands between his own. âHey. Hey,â he waited until she was focusing on him, brown eyes meeting grey. âItâll be okay, Fia. Esmeâs the one who had Danny bring you the letter, wasnât she? And besides, he left his new horse here, yeah?â
She nodded slowly, eyes glistening.
âRight. And if she was angry with you, or if your mum was angry with you⊠do you think theyâd go and do that?â
Florence sniffled, shaking her head vehemently. âThey hold grudges.â
Sam smiled. âReminds me of someone I know. Fia, if your mum holds grudges, and Esme holds grudges, and Dannyâ bless his little arse-kissing heart âwas sent all the way up here just to draw us into the Shelby family nonsense and then âborrowâ your mare while I doctored his proud-cut devil of a horse⊠do you really think theyâd be upset at hearing from you?â
Florence sighed, reluctantly shaking her head no. Sam was sympathetic to her anxieties. It was world-shaking for her, finding out she was pregnant so soon after her best friend and older sister left home with a gangster. Their decision to leave in a stolen vardo when her monthly was late was impulsive, but not terribly unexpected. Sheâd threatened as much a number of times when Zilpha had told her that under no circumstances was she to marry the troubled boy from the troubled family in Liverpool. If Zilpha only knew the truth, her answer mightâve been different, he thought ruefully. It aggravated him, to think that they couldnât see the way that he cared for her. That he would protect her. Love her. Do anything for her. Would they see that, if they knew why theyâd run?
âTheyâll have to figure it out eventually. You know that, right?â He tried to control his tone, struggling to keep the accusation out of his voice. Will you tell Esme? Will you tell Danny? Will you tell your mother?
Are you ashamed of me? Should I be ashamed of myself?
Florence rolled onto her side, curling up protectively. âI donât want to go on about it, Sam. Not right now. I donât feel well.â
Please tell me you arenât ashamed.
He let out the breath heâd been holding. âThatâs okay,â he said instead, lying down to hold her back against his chest. âWeâll figure it out when we get there. I promise.â
The tension in Florenceâs shoulders evened out as sleep overcame her. Sam stayed awake, watching her breathe until the sun rose.
#fic: sic em#oc: samuel lovell#oc: florence-maria lee#peaky blinders#peaky blinders oc#peaky blinders fanfic
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Baby Danvers loses her beloved cat that she had rescued with Kara
Authors note: Okay, this might suck because I was not in the right head space while writing it and it is really short so I am apologizing for this story being yucky.
â ïžTrigger warning!â ïž This one-shot includes the topic of pet loss and euthanizing. The plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just canÂŽt handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.
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Animals are life companions, best friends, confidants or soul mates and usually for many but not enough years.
Pets are not just animals, they are true friends for humans. The impending death of a beloved four-legged friend hits hard and leaves a sad void. Saying goodbye to a pet and the simultaneous loss of a friend, knowing that here was not much time left for the two of you, is difficult for people to process.
You were not ready for it. You were not ready to let go even though you knew you could save suffering and it was the right thing for her.
You already missed the moments when you would come home and watch your cat jump rabidly around the apartment, dragging your holey curtains along the floor behind it. The moments when you would be annoyed that there were rolls of lint on your blouse and you could not get them off or the desperation when changing the food because the lady was too fine for her old food.
You knew that the time had come for you to say goodbye to your beloved cat, whom Kara and you rescued and who had moved with you to National City after graduating from college; who had been with you for practically your whole life since youth.
You had no idea where she was born. You only knew that people had no idea how to care for kittens; she was often very ill and due to the lack of milk for her siblings and herself, she was very thin at the beginning of your journey.
When they took her away from her mother, her baby teeth had barely come through and she still needed her mom so much. But her breeder only wanted money and the meow of her only surviving sister and her got on their nerves.
And so one day the were loaded into a box and taken to a pet store. In the box, she was cuddling herself tight to her older sister, who was already dying. Her head rested on her soft fur and she felt her life drain from her sisters body. Your cat was supposed to be given away cheaply so that it would soon be gone and make room for new animals, and on that very day you had rescued and bought her.
But now all the wonderful years you could give her were gone in a flash and the final visit to the vet was pending. You shuddered as you gently held her in your arms and stroked her now old and rough fur. It was awful; the death of a beloved pet is a devastating experience for any owner.
You knew it was time. Every movement hurt her, she slouched and she had shortness of breath just walking around the living room a little bit. Last night was the particular bad one when she could not get up on her own, wet herself, hardly drank and just screamed out in pain.
It broke your heart and the tears had not stopped flowing since then.
"Come on, babygirl. You need to lay her down." Kara whispered in your ear as she tried to hide her tears from you and give you strength that you did not have in that moment. Cuddling you both from behind, she too let her bitter tears slowly fade into your hair.
When you sat her down on the vetÂŽs table for the last time, the metal beneath her was cold and you could clearly feel her fear in her rapid breathing. You laid your head against hers and cried into her brittle and lackluster fur as you felt her warmth once more. She lifted her head with the last of her strength and licked some tears from your face before the vet gave her the injection and she looked at you gratefully and contentedly. "I will miss you so much, C/N. I hope you are no longer in pain."
Now she was back with her mom and her siblings in a big, green meadow where there was nothing but peace and happiness. With a quick flick of her tail and a little final sniff, you watched her as the life was drained from her body, her breathing became shallower under your touch and her narrow pupils dilated further in her stare until her heartbeat slowed down and there was no longer any life to be felt in her heavier growing body.
You could not swallow your sadness anymore and turned to Kara, who wrapped her arms protectively around you and held you tight when you collapsed in them. "It is okay. Let it out, sweetie. Where she is now, sheÂŽs doing much better."
You had spent so many happy years with her and she gave you a best friend who never let you down. She has always been by your side whenever your grieved and over time has become a close and loyal friend.
It was hard taking the last step but you knew it would be a great help to accompany your friend on her final journey- after all, she has been with you all his life. An animal that has lived with you for so long will never be forgotten.
#kara danvers x baby danvers#babydanvers#baby danvers#baby danvers imagine#baby danvers x kara danvers#baby danvers x supergirl#baby danvers x danvers sisters#kara danvers imagine#kara danvers x reader#karadanvers#kara danvers#kara zor el#kara danvers x you#kara danvers x danvers sisters#supergirl cw#supergirl fanfiction#supergirl fanfic#supergirl#supergirl imagine#oneshot#imagime#imagines#imagine#x reader#one shot#female reader#x you#supergirl imagines
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TIMING: Yesterday LOCATION: Wicked's Rest State Park PARTIES: Conor & Rhett @ironcladrhett SUMMARY: A walk in the national park turns into a trip down memory lane for some, nightmare alley for others. CONTENT WARNINGS: Sibling death (mention)
In the two months he had been living in Maine, Conor hadnât really thought about taking a look around town, or beyond. The shop was often busy, and when it wasnât, he liked to retire in his backyard, which was beginning, day after day, to look like the disorganized, flowery, luscious haven he wished to spend his evenings in. When he didnât do that, he generally settled with his violin in his bedroom, rehearsing for hours.Â
Going out was never really his priority. His garden counted as going out to him. He didnât need to be with people to do that. His garden was fine.Â
He didnât particularly seek the company of others today either.Â
Conor wasnât much of a hiker, but he figured the state park would have greenery worth the trouble. He hadnât packed much aside from a bottle of water, and he hadnât told a soul about where he was going or for how long. It was Sunday, he didnât need to tell the whole town about what he did on Sundays, right?Â
On his way toward a stream, he had to stop to look at the purple and yellow irises growing there. âWell arenât you a beauty,â he smiled, crouching down to take a closer look.Â
â
Spend more time in the woods, his brother had told him. Warned him, more like. There was a reason he was trying to keep Rhett from the lake, and while the warden couldnât fathom what it could be, he could do what Emilio asked. For a little while, anyway.Â
As such, today found him wandering through the state park, his posture relaxed enough that it was almost as if he was just on a stroll and not on the constant lookout for fae or fae-related activity. Still, the scabbard hanging from his hip and the rifle slung over his back told a different storyânot that he cared much about appearances. He looked dangerous, and anyone that he encountered that had nothing to fear from him would do well to stay away anyway, because he was in a sour mood after failing to kill that fucking lake nymph.Â
A buzz crawled over his skin and he stopped dead, wide eyes scanning the area. His vision might be shit, but his fae-dar was impeccable, especially in a place like this. Crowds of people and monsters were another story.Â
Moving stealthily, the warden drew his sword and twisted it in his hand, his breath catching in his throat when he finally saw the source of the claws that scratched at the backs of his eyes. Some⊠whatever it was, crouched down admiring flowers. Cute. Those purple and yellow buds were about to get a fresh paint job, though.
He crept up behind the figure, careful with the knowledge that it might have some kind of advanced hearing, moving as slow as he could. Crouched down among the ferns, focused fully on his victim to-be, he didnât notice the crystal poking up from beneath the foliage his palm brushed through, his fingertips dragging along its smooth surface for a brief second or two before moving on to the rough bark of the tree that stood beside him.
When the fae started to move again, Rhett moved faster, closing the distance in about a second and pressing his iron blade to its neck as his hand gripped it by the opposite shoulder. He should have slit its throat then and there, but curiosity got the better of him. âWhat are ya?â He could only tell a nymph by feeling alone, and this one had a different flavor of irritation.Â
â
Conor left the flowers where they belonged. He couldnât bring these back to his place. Theyâd die there. Then, if he managed to dig a pond in his backyard, perhaps he could invest in those sorts of plants next year. Heâd have to worry about mosquitoes, but he supposed there were easy ways to get rid of them.Â
Lost in his train of thoughts, he paid no mind to the sounds in his back, up until it became clear those were footsteps, and coming from someone way too close to him. Now was not the time to freak out, yet, Conor couldnât stop himself from focusing more than it was comfortable on the sharp, cold yet burning thing pressed to his neck, or the strong hand gripping at his shoulder. He didnât like strangers touching him. He knew he was tense, and yet any noise that could have helped him get help got caught up in his throat. And why was that knife burning him?Â
The stranger spoke. He didnât sound nice, or from around here.Â
Conor didnât attempt to take a look at him. He didnât dare move. Still, he had to answer his question. âWhat do you mean?â His voice quivered as he stammered his way through the short sentence. âIâm just hiking, Iâm not gonna do anything.âÂ
â
âDidnât ask what yer doinâ, idjit. Asked what ya are. Know youâre fae, no point in lyinâ âbout it. Wanna know what kind afore I cut yer damn head off. Why donâtcha let that pretty liâl disguiseâah yours drop, eh? Would love tah see what ya really look like.âÂ
As if to back up this threat, Rhettâs cutlass pressed more firmly into the faeâs neck, his grip moving from the creatureâs shoulder to grab a fistful of its unruly hair.Â
âCome on⊠rude to keep a fella waitinâ,â Rhett warned a final time, leaning his head down to speak directly into his preyâs ear, just in case he wasnât being heard.Â
â
The hunter did a good job of exposing Conorâs neck, of making him entirely vulnerable. What could he possibly do now, to break free from his strong hold. With a whimper, Conor slowly raised his hand up, before him. He didnât want to do the other harm, simply to get out of harmâs way.
It would be disappointing to see the end of the path today. He had just began the process of letting his brother back into his life. Disappearing would leave a bitter taste of unfinished business in his younger brotherâs mouth, and Conor hated to be the sort to keep on letting him down. He had just introduced himself back to the Bostonian man, all to be murdered weeks later. What a shame.Â
âIâm aâŠâ He winced. The otherâs lips brushed against his ear lobe, too close, his voice too loud for his sensitive ears. With that stimulation, they turned back to their natural aspect, pointier, goat-like, and it wasnât long before Conorâs legs took on a more hairy and complicated aspect, his bushy hair parted on his temples, revealing curled horns. âPlease, I⊠I donât do people harm.â He tried not to wince. That wasnât quite right, but the other didnât need to know it.
___
Was a divine damn thing, seeing one of their kind shed the human disguise it used to masquerade in a place it didnât belong. He pulled back a bit as those ears changed, gaze traveling down the creatureâs body as more of it shifted, then back up again to see the horns thatâd appeared on its head.Â
âAh.â The usual plea. âFaun.â As far as murderous fae went, faun were a little lower on the totem poleâhe could recall a time when heâd have left most of them well enough alone, provided they werenât hurting anyone. But unfortunately for this faun, those days were gone.Â
âNo? Yâainât never killed no one? Find that hardâtah believe, goat. Easy tâgo overboard. Never had an accident, then? Yer the pinnacle of control?â His tone carried a sharp, poisonous edge to it, not unlike the one digging into the faunâs flesh. âBe honest, I know itâs terrible painful to lie. You ever killed anyone?â
â
"You've killed before," Conor countered. No one in their right mind would walk up on someone like that with a knife if they weren't metaphorically screaming bloody murder from a mile away. "Doesn't mean you should die for it, does it?" Conor knew some of his fae pals would disagree.Â
He was ashamed of his feats enough as it was. He didn't need the fae police to come and slap him on the hand (or much worse) about it. So yes, Conor's tone was harsh, and the faun was once again cranky. It would be terrible to die having renounced his ideals. It would be strange for it to be any different with that damn blade burning against his neck.Â
With a heave of his shoulders, Conor took another calming breath. "I was raised by humans. I don't know the ways of my kin," which was why he had accidents. "I'm so sorry. I don't mean to do people harm," most of the time, he didn't. Karens and Kyles had it coming.
â
âThatâs where yer wrong, bucko. Iâve killed, sure. Iâve killed lots. Fae, undead, shifters⊠donât make much difference to me, so long as they ainât human. But fae really key me up like nothinâ else, yanno? All those fuckinâ tricky ways you lot like to talk⊠sucker some poor human into doinâ whatever you tell âem to, into hurtinâ the people they love, all with yer god damn fuckinâ wordsâŠâ It was getting personal, clearly. âBut all that killinâ Iâve done? It does mean I should die for it. In fact, I plan to. Just not today.â
He shoved down on the faunâs shoulder to force it to its knees, sucking in a deep, wavering breath. âSave yer fuckinâ apologies,â he bit out, wondering why his throat felt so tight. âYou might not mean to, but ya do. Ya do all kindsâah fuckinâ harm all the fuckinâ timeââ What remained of his vision had grown blurry, and there was a sound in his ear like a mosquito that just wouldnât leave. âIââ His thoughts had gone foggy and he felt⊠he felt⊠oh, no. Not now. His mind abandoned him, separating from his body in a metaphorical sense, leaving him hollow and confused.Â
âGonna kill ya,â he muttered, tightening the grip on his sword, almost like he was trying to remind himself why he was there. âGonnaâŠâ His dark gaze dropped down to the top of the faunâs head and the world around him felt spinny. It felt wrong.Â
âLook at me,â came the command, soft but stern. He only waited a half-second before demanding again, louder and more fraught with emotion. âLook at me, goat! Look at me!â His eyes were wide and wild and brimming with tears as the faun finally met his gaze, and a choked sob was barely bitten back as he took in the otherâs visage.Â
Fuckâs sake, he looked a lot like Desmond.Â
It. It looked a lot like Desmond. But it wasnât. Dez was dead. Dead a long time ago. Not lookinâ up at him from his knees, horned and fuzzy-earedâ
âDez,â he groaned, still holding his sword out in a threatening sort of way, though it was clear that he was⊠elsewhere. Agony turned to frustration and he tried to shake off whatever was ailing him, but it was no use. God, why did this thing look so much like his brother?Â
â
The tricky ways his lot liked to talk? That didnât speak to him. He hadnât met many fae, but the few he did meet were kind to him, even Cass, and she had destroyed his front door. Some were scared, hiding, disgusted with themselves, some took being fae as something more than an identity, making it their duty, and some just wanted to live their life. He was a bit of that, although Conor had avoided looking at his reflection over the years.Â
His knees hit the ground as he reflected on his situation, how unfair it all was, and how fair it all was. It was unfair to his mother. Sheâd never know why he stopped writing. To his brother and to him. He expected a response from him, and he wanted to reconnect with him. But deep down, Conor knew that none of this mattered. This man was right. He was a murderer. He didnât mean to, but more than once, he was unable to stop his feeding process and people had died. Of course it looked like heart attacks, and he was coined as the unlucky witness. âIâm sorry,â he repeated.
His eyes fell on the flowers. If he was gonna die, he might as well be looking at something beautiful. The thought brought a sad smile to his face.Â
And then that cruel man demanded he looked at him. And thatâs when he saw his face, at this awful man calling him a goat. He was not a fucking goat. The faunâs lip quivered and he wrinkled his nose in anger, in disgust.Â
âWhat?!â he spat. Who the fuck was Dez. âWhy are you doing this? You donât need to do this. Please.âÂ
__
Something was wrong. This wasnât the usual bout of dissociation, something else was happening and he didnât know what. He felt furious and tormented in the same breath, like there was some terrible, heavy truth weighing down on him that heâd been hiding for centuries.Â
But that was ridiculous. So what, then? Why did he feel like the world was fucking ending? He was just here to kill a goddamn goat. Kill the faun. Focus. Focus. Breathe.Â
âI do need to,â he argued, unsure why he was even bothering talking to it. Just cut the head off and be done with it. âYâdonât understand⊠I gotta.â Why? Because heâd been raised for it? That hadnât mattered to him back when Dez was still alive. In fact, heâd often been the one sticking up for fae when his brother wanted to kill them.Â
But that was why, wasnât it? Because his trust had been misplaced, and it had gotten his brother killed. And the one who did itâsheâd gotten away. It was her fault. Her fault. The fault of all fae, just like this one. But if he hadnât made that promiseâ
Fury decorated with a golden filigree of sorrow wrapped around him like chains and he gasped for breath. He couldnât do this. The faun was begging for its life and where that would normally delight him, now it made him feel ill. He tried to think about what could have changed. He retraced his steps in his mind, as serpentine as they were and as much as his thoughts wanted to fully disconnect from themselves. None of it made sense.
âGet out of here,â he snarled, unable to combat the feeling of damnation that had taken his whole person in a vice-like grip. Fuck it. Fuck it, he needed to be alone, and killing this thing felt like too much effort for arms that refused to work, to do what his brain tried to tell them. âI said git!â Again, the command was barked louder and only a half-second after the first. Rhett took a step back, his sword thudding to the forest floor as his hands rose to instead tangle themselves into his mane of silver hair. He wasnât supposed to feel like this, not ever. Not anymore. He didnât feel shit anymore. He needed to ground himself. Needed to do his steps, run through his routine, until this went away.Â
____
"Why? Who told you that?" Conor's eyes would have rather looked anywhere else than at that terrible, terrible man's face, but he could feel a change and maybe this would be his only chance. âI donât fucking understand, no, but⊠you donât have to do anything you donât want to do. Please.â He felt like every single time he pleaded, the clock just ticked closer toward the inevitable, and yet he couldnât stop saying that damn word. If that man allowed him, he would say it again.
Around them, things were undisturbed. Perhaps could he find solace in being surrounded by such beauty for his final moments ?
The water was still streaming next to him, and the scent of the flowers still perfumed the ambient air. Soon, there would only be the smell of blood, but the calm would last because all in all, he knew he was insignificant and that the neighborhood would be more disturbed by the absence of a florist than by the absence of the florist. Hermetic to the torments that shook the hunter, the faun was about to leave, but certainly not in such a literal way.
The bad man barked, and Conor didn't immediately understand what that meant. It didn't make any fucking sense, and he stood for a moment, a second at most, staring at him, looking confused as well as offended. What the fuck, he thought.
And yet, it didn't take long for him to do exactly what was asked of him, once again. Conor didn't necessarily have much affection for authority figures, but he preferred not to upset assholes who carried a sword behind their backs. The sound of metal hitting the floor. He remembered covering his ears then, almost mirroring his opponent, but not for long. Before the hunter regained his composure, the faun would be long gone.Â
â
It was illogical, what he was doing. There was no reason that beheading the faun should feel so fucking difficult, but it did, and he was telling it to leave before heâd taken care of things. Stupid. Stupid.Â
Who told you that? Everyone. Everyone heâd ever known, even though heâd not believed it for the first twenty-some-odd years of his life. They didnât all have to die, heâd argued. The ones that werenât hurting anyone on purpose, they didnât have to die. They needed tools, that was all. Tools to help them control what the universe had given them, to make their own choices. Like he was making his own, despite what he and his brother had been taught growing up.Â
That was a time when âitâ had been âsheâ, and she had been the love of his life. The one that showed him nothing but beauty and a kind of grace that he lacked, but had aspired to. She was everything, until she took everything. His love, his family, his unborn child. Gone in a second. Gone like his choice to spare any of them, ever.
Except for now. Because there were voices in his head screaming at him to stop, voices heâd never heard before. Phantom hands, not real in any capacity but still able to grasp him as though they were, dragged the warden to his knees where he wept. He wept for some unknown anguish, foreign to him but coursing through his bloodstream like it was his own.Â
The faun was gone, but that didnât stop the feeling. It went on, and on, pulling him to the forest floor where it would keep him for the better part of two days.Â
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Doctor Hanahaki - I wish that you would stay in my memories. [2]
Doctor Hanahaki
Chapter 2
WC: 6055
Akaashi talks with his new patient, Bokuto Koutarou. This unnverves him, and his past is revealed to all but himself.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/47404093/chapters/119693767#workskin
~
âOh, um, right,â Bokuto seemed slightly startled at first, though he got his composure eventually. His voice was rougher than the average person, though Akaashi was not too sure by what amount compared to his normal range. âHanahaki, my throat is killing me. Iâll cough up blood and petals, but sometimes these small twigs.â
Akaashi was intrigued, twigs were never part of the symptoms. âGot a whole nest up in there, donât you?â Akaashi stepped forward with his gloved hands, moving to slowly touch Bokutoâs neck to feel for any punctures. âIf something hurts, let me know,â the sterile hands slowly danced along his skin, until he stopped feeling a sharp end in his finger, followed by the wincing of his patient. âThatâs odd.â
âItâs Hanahaki, right?â
âYeah, just-â Akaashi stepped back. Hanahajou? Is this the mysterious variant he had only seen in research? âAnything else?â
âMy nose will start bleeding sometimes; I donât know if thatâs related. Itâs hard to breathe, though I know thatâs normal,â Bokuto commented, harsh coughs filling the room as small Sakura petals painted in crimson fell into his hands. âI know the blood isnât supposed to happen until later, though Iâve only been like this for a week now.â
âYou sure know your stuff, are you a doctor?â Akaashi tried to poke light in the darkness, getting a cup of water and handing it to his patient.
âFar from it, I used to play volleyball. You know the MSBY Jackals?â The weakness in Bokutoâs eyes faded slightly as he flexed his muscles, a haphazard grin on his face. âBokuto BEAM!â The two shared a soft smile. âI played with them until I was 30, I was also on the National team for the Olympics. Time of my life,â Bokuto sighed, clearly reminiscent of the days. Akaashi knew volleyball was significant to him at some point in his life, though he did not follow the sports. Now that he thinks about it, he can recognize the man in his younger years being on the court of the Olympics. âI⊠I watch you on the news a lot. Itâs really impressive stuff, being a doctor and a correspondent.â
âSo thatâs how you know all this,â Akaashi took some notes on the punctures in the throat, surely the twigs he was talking about. âAt least someone listens to me instead of thirsting over the edits,â he chuckled, Bokuto letting out a small laugh followed by harsh coughs filled with fluttering petals. âSo breathing is rough, Iâm saying an inhaler for now, but I also want an emergency x-ray done on you right after this. We have to make sure those arenât puncturing your lungs, also some blood testing to see if itâs a Hanahaki variant.â The medical part of Hanahaki, the part Akaashi was great at.
Then, there was the part he was less great at. âSo⊠Hanahaki is caused by unrequited love,â his voice dragged the last part of the sentence. âWho is the person who makes you like this?â It still made him feel awkward, despite his expertise. Akaashi specialized in Hanahaki, not in listening. Usually, a patient would quickly bring up the person of their desires, but Bokuto seemed to stay relatively quiet on the topic.
Bokuto fidgeted with his hands slightly, Akaashi catching his stolen glance. âYou probably donât hear this a lot, but he does not know who I am.â
âReally now?â Akaashi had heard this millions of times before. He doesnât know I exist, this and Iâm just a stranger, they donât know my name that. All pointless lies, based on pettiness and lack of courage to confess. Yet the way Bokuto said the words sounded different. âI do hear that a lot.â
âNot like that,â Bokuto interrupted, coughing up another group of petals. âWe were really close, and then something happened. He went for a surgery, and I never saw him again, at least not in person.â Bokuto opened his mouth to continue but paused before closing it again. âI guess Iâm just missing what could have been, he cared so much for me.â
âIâm sorry,â Akaashi found himself in shock at the words. His job was to listen, not to feel sympathy. There were therapists for that, and heaven forbid he said the words I hope you meet again. There was the unnatural draw once more, Akaashi clearing his throat and fixing his white coat. âRight, so Iâll have the nurse come in to fill some final details and schedule our next appointment one week from today. It was nice to meet you, Bokuto.â
âYeah, nice to see you,â Bokuto sighed as Akaashi left the room, a headache following him.
He was off, those were words to describe it. Akaashi had seen some sickening stories in person, he did residencies at hospitals and heck, his specialty could be called gore on its own. Akaashi sat down in the chair of the more office-like area in the wing to fill out charts. Patients never left him this distraught, and he could not pinpoint the reason.
~
Akaashi does not remember.
His high school years were much of a blur, his friends and experiences erased. Usually, he did not mind, for the lack of memories and emotions meant no attachments and nothing to hold him back from his career. All Akaashi needed was his career and Nariko, that was enough for him.
So why did Akaashi find a feeling of concern bubbling in his chest?
Akaashi was 17 when it happened.
Cleaning up the gym after practice, he had finally admitted it to himself. The lists of the personâs strengths and weaknesses, the way he smiled after every successful spike, and how he would open himself up to Akaashi more than anyone else. Akaashi had hated to admit it, but he was in love with his spiker, his captain.
More so, he hated how the other would never love him back.
âIâm not going to date anyone until Iâm retired,â Bokuto would declare as the two of them were walking home alone after practice one evening, just the two of them. âWhen I graduate, Iâm going to focus on my volleyball career and make so much money,â and for once, Akaashi hesitated before agreeing with Bokuto. âWeâll stay friends though; Iâm going to buy you all the onigiri you could want. Heck, Iâll get you a whole store just for us so we can go out for onigiri together every day!â
Akaashiâs breath hitched in his throat, his heart beating rapidly as his face heated up, trying to push down the feelings which bubbled in his chest. âThat sounds nice, Bokuto. Iâll make sure to show up to all your games.â
âAkaashi?â
âYes, Bokuto?â
âWhat do you want to do when you grow up?â Bokuto asked as they reached a stop to where the two would part ways, Bokuto took a left turn and Akaashi would continue to walk straight. Bokuto never got very philosophical, yet there were times the two would share their deep conversations.
âSomething with writing,â Akaashi mentioned. âEditing to start, but I hope to one day start my own book.â
âThat is so cool, âKaashi,â Bokuto hugged his younger teammate goodbye before turning left. âIâll see you tomorrow! Bye Akaashi!â
âIâll see you later, Bokuto,â Akaashi mumbled as he continued his walk home on his own. A headache formed in the back of his mind as his heart continued to bubble in his chest, his throat stinging as he stepped into his house. Mustâve caught something, Akaashi thought to himself as he lay down his school supplies to start homework. He grabbed a cup of water to ease the burning in his throat, noting the difficulty breathing. He didnât have asthma, not yet at least, so the entire concept was odd to him.
Until he felt an object stuck in his throat.
He felt like he was choking, gasping for air yet dizzy as he rushed to the sink to eject whatever was stuck in his throat. Bile and Sakura petals fell from his mouth, landing in the sink as Akaashi stood horrified. Petals were far from normal; he knew that much about the medical field. At least after the petals were out, he could breathe easier.
Instead of going to return to studying his homework, he reached into the medicine cabinet for some painkillers and went to search for what he could possibly have. His mother worked late so it was all on him.
Throwing up petals.
Akaashi was never the most interested in the medical field, and he did not follow much of the news like a news freak, only occasionally. So, when he saw the words which flashed across his screen, he was more confused than anything.
Hanahaki, the mysterious outbreak has claimed 100 lives in Japan.
Akaashi clicked the link of the article, seeing a doctor on one of the larger news channels talking about the disease. âHanahaki is very new, and we donât know much about it at all,â the correspondent stated, the interviewer intently listening. âNo information on transmission and thereâs only cases in the low thousands. What we do know are the symptoms, petals. It starts by coughing and throwing up petals along with other bodily fluids and eventually, the infected person could suffocate, though that seems to be extremely rare. For most, it seems to go away on its own!â
âWhat should the citizens of Japan do to protect themselves, Dr. Suzuki?â
âI do not believe there is reason to worry, it should be treated as the common cold,â Dr. Suzuki stated confidently with a smile. âLike any other disease, stay home when you donât feel well. Panic will only worsen the situation.â
âYou heard our lovely Dr. Suzuki, Hanahaki is currently not a grand threat. If you believe you have Hanahaki, dial this phone number to log this underwhelming disease,â the video clip ended as the phone number flashed on the screen.
The rest of the article did not discuss the actual illness, only the controversies between government officials, especially the chaos which unfolded in the United States as they received their first case of Hanahaki. Deciding to take a chance, he went to dial the number, only receiving a robot telling him to do the same the video clip had just done.
The tiredness had gotten the best of him as he fell asleep at his desk, uncomfortably doing his best to breathe through burning sensations, flowers surely sprouting in his lungs. Falling asleep and waking up in his bed, a cool cloth on his forehead and a cup of water beside him. âKeiji,â his mother stood by him as she refreshed the cloth. âYouâre burning up, coughing up flowers. You had me worried for a second.â
âIâm-â Akaashi went to apologize for worrying his mother, but the words burned his throat as he coughed up more petals, the words not even coming out.
âDonât speak, just get some sleep. Iâm so sorry sweetie, but I still have to go to work. Iâll come home early and if you need something, Iâm just a phone call away,â Akaashi drifted off to a soft kiss from his mother (his ever-hardworking mother), a fever melting his mind as his bed slowly became covered with petals he did not bother to brush away. He tried to sleep, though the rest was much interrupted by the ringing of his phone.
BOKUTO is calling you.
Shit.
ïżœïżœAKAASHI!â Despite the phone not being on speaker, it might as well have been with the volume of Bokutoâs screaming on the other line. Akaashi is not too sure why he even responded when he did not have much of a voice to do so. âAkaashi, where are you? Youâre late, you werenât in the hallways where we always meet up before morning practice⊠and you werenât even at practice!â Akaashi groaned as he looked through his phone, seeing missed calls and pools of messages from his teammates, specifically Bokuto.
âBokuto!â Konoha could be heard in the background, much quieter than Bokuto (which Akaashi was quite grateful for. âAre you alright, Akaashi? You werenât at practice this morning, and it has Bokuto out of his mind.â
Before Akaashi could respond, a mix of bile and petals built up in his throat as he rushed to the nearest trashcan, emptying the contents of liquid and flower petals. âAkaashi?â Bokutoâs voice could be heard faintly as Akaashi squeezes his eyes shut, coughing petals into the trashcan. âAkaashi, are you okay!?â
When he woke up again, he was on the couch shirtless, leaning his head on Bokuto in a very odd position, his legs draped over Bokuto as Konoha quietly made tea in the kitchen (one could say he was practically on the captainâs lap). Groggily waking up and blinking the sleep out of his eyes, seeing Bokuto and Konoha were indeed in his house. ââŠâKaashi?â Bokuto whispered as Akaashi slowly sat up before realizing he was laying on top of Bokuto. âWoah, slow down. I rushed as soon as you didnât answer, you had a really high fever, Akaashi.â
Akaashi flushed red when he realized Bokuto had seen him pathetically on the ground, laying in a pile of Sakura petals. Speaking of petals, he felt slightly better. His throat was still dry, and he was still incredibly weak, but breathing seemed less of a luxury and more something he could easily do. Indeed, he looked down and saw he was shirtless. âDonât worry about that,â Konoha commented and handed Akaashi a cup of tea. âAt least your fever is low enough for some tea. My Nana always made it for me when I was sick. It works like fucking steroids, try it.â
Akaashi nodded, breathing in the scent, and slowly drinking the whole cup, becoming more aware as he felt better and better. Tears formed in his eyes at the kind sentiment of his friends, Bokuto wrapping his arm around Akaashi. âI was so worried, Akaashi. I thought you died, and you canât die. I love you, Akaashi. You are my best friend, you canât die.â
The tea hitched in Akaashiâs throat as Konoha shook his head. Suddenly, he found himself coughing petals on the living room table as Bokuto rubbed circles on his back. âIâm not⊠going to die, Bokuto,â Akaashi jokingly glared in between coughs until it passed. His voice burned, but not as much as this morning. Really, it appeared as simply Bokutoâs presence helped him. âI think Iâll be good tomorrow.â
âDonât rush it, Akaashi,â Konoha smirked a bit, as he picked up Bokuto by the shirt, slowly aiming for the door. âYeah- we need our setter, but we also need our friend to be healthy. Bokuto? Can you start the car? I have to talk to Akaashi.â
âOh, sure,â Bokutoâs face fell slightly, but he did as he was told, hugging Akaashi and heading to start the car. âBye âKaashi! Feel better soon!â The second Bokuto left the room, Konohaâs face fell.
âHanahaki, right?â Konoha mumbled as he helped Akaashi to his feet and back to his room. âI read about it, my sister wants to be a nurse and she is obsessed with it, though itâs not as pretty in person,â Konoha sighed, Akaashi nodding slowly. âThe doctors and news say itâs no big deal, but I donât believe them, and Iâm worried about you, Akaashi.â
âThey donât know what causes it either,â Akaashi mumbled, sinking into the bed. âIâve literally never been this sick. If I donât show tomorrow, make sure Iâm not dead?â Akaashi joked, Konoha having a small smile.
âYeah, sure thing, Akaashi. Feel better.â
Akaashi went through the rest of the day, occasionally gasping for air and coughing petals, but he was up on his feet doing work on his laptop. A vast improvement, he was almost looking forward to seeing Bokuto the next day.
See him he did, Akaashi had convinced himself and his mother he was well enough to go to school (be it he was partially in denial). He kept a mask on not wanting any of his teammates to suffer how he did (and suffer he did), slowly trudging his way towards school, much to his motherâs dismay.
Iâll drive you!
Youâll be late for work!
They needed the money, Akaashi never forced his mother to stay with him if she did not need to. He was at Fukurodani on a scholarship, money was already tight as is. So, he walked to the same place he met with Bokuto every morning, the spikerâs face lighting up when their eyes met. âAkaashi! Akaashi!â Bokuto rushed over towards the setter, practically spinning the boy around in a circle. âI missed you so much, Iâm so happy you are back! Are you feeling better?â
We need our setter, but we also need our friend to be healthy.
âUm, a bit,â Akaashi smiled a bit, Bokutoâs face faltering. âNot enough to practice, but Iâll still join you,â he mumbled as the two walked to practice, Akaashi doing his best to muffle a cough as he felt petals spill into his mask. Akaashi felt bad, he really did want to go to practice, but he couldn't, he wasnât physically able. It would be stupid to practice in his condition, heâd end up passing out on the court.
Bokuto nodded in understanding, before slowly reaching for Akaashiâs hand. Their fingers intertwined with each other as the iconic smirk grew on Bokutoâs face. âWell, come on âKaashi! We canât be late to practice.â
Akaashi flushed red, slowly nodding as he squeezed Bokutoâs hand. A part of him had hoped for the other to blush, to stare for too long, but he didnât. Bokuto simply grinned and walked to the gym, Akaashi following him. âOf course, Bokuto.â
We need our setter, but we also need our friend.
Akaashi had gotten himself to practice that afternoon, his stubbornness getting to the best of him. He had insisted he had recovered (much to Konohaâs glare knowing he was clearly lying) and practice had run smoothly. Akaashi would set for Bokuto no problem and Bokuto would flawlessly spike the ball into the ground, no problem.
âBokuto is so much brighter when youâre here,â Konoha mentioned during their break, Akaashi nodding while he tried to hide petals he coughed up. âHe missed you a lot, and none of us can get him out of sad mode like you can.â
Akaashi simply nodded, his headache continuing to worsen. Yet, he continued to play until the end of practice before heading to the bathroom. He entered the stall, his knees crumpling to the ground as he threw off the mask, coughing up petals and gasping for air. Coughs which ran through his body turned into wretched gagging of vomit covered petals. Akaashi shook his head and went to flush it down, about to put his mask on until he saw the inside of the mask was splattered with dots of blood. âWhat the hell?â Akaashiâs eyes widened, and truth be told, he panicked.
That night, he returned to google, knowing a small fever had returned as noted by the chills.
Coughing up blood and petals.
Nothing.
The device had led him to the same videos and articles as before. Hanahaki, a hoax by the government? Videos filled his recommended as he closed his phone, heading to sleep. His week continued where his symptoms would subside slightly, Bokuto would improve his life temporarily, and then he would go home to mellow in his fever while he gasped for air and ejected petals from his lungs.
We need our setter.
The Friday of that week, Akaashi knew he was getting worse. His throat burned and each step brought dizziness, or maybe he could not breathe. He had become a master of holding in his coughs until he was alone to not worry the others, because what else could he do? Sleepless nights from harsh coughs rocking his body and fever dreams making any sleep he did receive practically terrifying, he knew he was⊠for better words, Akaashi was sincerely fucked.
He was screwed, gasping for air while his teammates cheered so they wouldnât hear his wheezing. Why in the world was he even on the court? His team had split to do a six on six, and his vision was blacking in and out without oxygen, Bokutoâs cheers of a successful spike always bringing him back to reality. Petals built up in his mouth, but they were in the middle of practice, and he held them in as he tried to breathe. His legs were starting to give out, stay with me, Akaashi, he mentally shouted at himself as his teammate went to the back to serve. His vision blurred slightly as the ball sped past his head, not making it to the other side of the court.
âSorry!â
âJust try again!â
Bokuto was right next to him in the formation, Akaashi reached his hand out. âBokuto-â his voice was harsh and rough as petals spilt out of his mouth. âBokuto, help-â tears formed as the petals slipped out of his mouth, his legs giving out while he collapsed. His breaths were wheezy and uneven, Bokuto panicking as his best friend collapsed into his arms.
âAkaashi?â Bokuto laid the unconscious body on the ground, Akaashi faintly feeling a cloth on his face. âHeâs burning up, Konoha. Heâs not breathing!â
âStand back! Do CPR!â
âStop panicking, please. Konoha, call an ambulance.â
Akaashi shook his head, opening his eyes slightly, though his vision did not do much for him. Everything was blurry, and the last thing he saw was Bokutoâs tear-stained face being held back by another teammate, flashing lights going off in the distance.
Akaashi had never felt worse when he finally woke up again. He was hooked up to machines wherever he looked, tubes up his nose giving him oxygen and a bucket full of petals beside him. Feverish logic concluded he was in a hospital and thankfully, not dead. Colors melted together and when he realized his words were scratchy but existent, he breathed a long sigh of relief.
âAkaashi Keiji,â a doctor came up, a smile on his face. âYou are awake, your mother and a few friends of yours are outside worried sick. You know why youâre here, right?â
âMight wanna tell me anyways,â Akaashi mumbled, coughing a few times.
âHanahaki, youâre one of the few teens weâve had come in with this,â the doctor commented as he sat down. âYou were incredibly low on oxygen and there are flowers in your lungs, your lungs will start to fail at this rate.â Well, that logic was stupid, just transplant them then. Akaashi thought to himself. âWe canât transplant new ones because this disease as weâve recently discovered, starts in the brain. By the area which is responsible for feelings and memory, so new lungs would not help you there. The flowers will come back, you know?â
Well shit.
âAt least we know you arenât contagious,â the doctor continued. âYour mom and friends want to see you. Your mom seems to love you very much, working hard to keep you alive and all that.â
Akaashi did not like this doctor very much. He would, however, like to see his mother and friends. His mother would walk in first, worried sick over her child. âKeiji, thank goodness you are finally awake,â Akaashiâs mother would state as she did her best to cradle him at his bedside. âItâs been two days, sweetheart.â
Two days? Akaashi thought to himself, panic rising in his throat. He had school, he had commitments, what was he going to-
Bokuto stood by the doorway of the room, eager to get inside. Akaashiâs mother knew her son well, how much the boy meant to her son. âWeâll talk later, it appears as if a certain teammate of yours is waiting rather impatiently to see you,â she whispered, winking a bit as she got up. The ever-considerate Ms. Akaashi, being it early in the day, she knew her boy had a game early (a game her would clearly not be attending), but she had a feeling Keiji would want his friend to be at that practice game.
Bokuto poked his head into the room, Akaashi waving him over. It was only then he realized how awful he must look to his peers. Oxygen being given to him through his nose, an IV poked into his arm, and now that he really tried to think, Akaashi could tell he had pounds of drugs with names he couldnât pronounce being pumped into his system. Eyebags from all the sleepless nights and heck, heâd probably lost a considerable amount of weight at this point.
He felt small, smaller than he had ever been.
âHey, âKaashi?â Bokuto walked into the room, his voice noticeably quieter than usual. âHow are you feeling?â He crept a bit closer as Akaashi continued to encourage the otherâs entry.
Akaashi fiddled with his fingers as Bokuto sat on the edge of the bed and Akaashi could swear the sun shined a bit brighter when he sat down. âI⊠could be better.â
âWhy did you say you were fine?â Bokuto said blatantly, and for a rarity in both their lives, the spiker was serious. âAkaashi, you donât get it. You looked so-â Bokuto searched for the words, his voice breaking in raw emotion.
âSick?â Akaashi filled in the words as he usually did, Bokuto nodding and reaching for Akaashiâs hands. âThe team needed me, you know?â
âFuck the team, Akaashi. I need you, and not because you are my setter. I need you because you mean everything to me.â Bokuto did not swear; neither did Akaashi (out loud) but even he cursed more than Bokuto. The words rang in his chest, and Akaashi found himself choking from the words, or was it the petals? âThatâs why it hurt so much when I saw you on the ground, throwing up bloody petals,â Bokuto sniffled a bit, wiping his tears away. âItâs pathetic âcause Iâm not the one whoâs sick but I really need you, âKaashi. I imagined life without you, and I got so scared I was going to lose you.â
The flowers in Akaashiâs chest seemed to wilt slightly, Akaashi coughing up a few petals into the bucket beside him. âWell, then you wonât lose me,â he weakly extended his pinky-finger towards Bokuto. âI promise.â
âYou promise?â
âYeah,â Akaashi found himself blushing, his heart giddy with excitement when he saw Bokutoâs cheeks do the same. âI do.â
Akaashi let his feelings fester, his heart aching and symptoms growing worse by the day. He had dropped 20 pounds since his hospitalization, and he hadnât left since. The coughs became worse and worse, and sometimes the doctors would drug him just so he could get any amount of sleep. He had not bothered with school; he could kiss his scholarship at Fukurodani goodbye! Despite his crippling state, Bokuto stopped by everyday after school with an activity. Some days, he would simply recall their games or how he was doing in class. He would buy books he knew Akaashi was obsessed with and bring in Get Well cards from the team.
Today, Bokuto cheerfully walked in, startling Akaashi a bit. He was starting to drift off, though his energy was immediately replenished. Bokutoâs face faltered when he caught sight of Akaashi, a breathing mask replacing the oxygen tubes he had grown familiar with. A special mask he could remove to cough up petals, but an alarm would go off if the mask was removed for too long.
They both knew it too well, Akaashi was growing worse.
Akaashi waved a bit, he was not one for words nowadays. Bokuto understood and brought a small package and set it on the table beside Akaashiâs bed. âFriendship bracelets!â Bokuto grinned as he pulled out the string and beads. Akaashi sat in bed tiredly, slowly reaching for some of the brighter colored beads. âIâm graduating soon and to be honest, Iâm a bit nervous,â Bokuto filled the room with conversation, talking about calls from team coaches and scouts interested in having him as a player.
âBokuto,â Akaashi spoke for the first time that day, Bokuto smiling. âThe doctors said⊠thereâs a new surgery to help me.â
âWell, then what are you waiting for!â Bokuto jumped up with excitement, the most excited Akaashi had seen him in ages. âThen, youâll be better! We can hang out at your house again and maybe even play volleyball together again! This is great, Akaashi!â
âItâs in America.â
âItâs⊠what?â
Akaashi slowly nodded, temporarily removing the mask to cough up the bloody Sakura petals he had grown sick of, wheezy breaths sounding throughout the room before he quickly put the mask back on, sighing in relief. âThey are going to bring me to California for it, and one of the side effects⊠is amnesia.â
âHow bad of amnesia? Are we talking I canât remember what I had for breakfast amnesia orâŠâ Bokuto tried to poke light in the situation, but deep down, his heart knew.
âBad, really bad amnesia.â
âBut you will be alive,â Bokuto held Akaashiâs hand, lifting up the bracelet to reveal it had Bokutoâs name spelt in blue beads. âPerfect that I made this then, so you wonât forget about me!â He was being unrealistic, and it was that moment Akaashi realized Bokuto had to know.
âBokuto.â Akaashi felt his throat tighten with petals and flowers, tears pooling in his eyes. His heart raced in his chest, and he could not hold it any longer. âThereâs something... I need to tell you.â
âYeah, go on âKaashi,â Bokuto sat on the bed, intrigued.
âIâm in love with you.â
âYouâre⊠what?â Bokuto had heard him, they both knew that. Akaashi watched as Bokutoâs face shifted from excitement to pure disappointment. âI- Iâm sorry, Akaashi.â Bokutoâs voice broke as Akaashiâs breath hitched, the petals continuing to flower in his throat. âI think- I think I should go.â
Akaashi nodded, waiting for Bokuto to leave before tears poured down his face, throwing off the mask as hundreds of petals fell from his mouth in a mix of coughs and bile (which he thankfully caught in the bucket). His sobs turned into gasps for air as petals continued to be ejected, his vision slowly fading in and out. Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry. Mom? Mom, I need you, please come back.
The hospital button was too far away, and his weak screams were only in his imagination as the bucket of flowers spilled. Bokuto, Iâm so sorry. Please, come back. I didnât mean it; it was a joke! We are just friends, please! I need you!â
The next time Akaashi would wake up, it would be in a different hospital room.
His mom would be beside him, and the oxygen mask was replaced with tubes once more. There was a sense of peace throughout him, Akaashi could deeply breathe with relative ease. âAh, Akaashi Keiji, right?â He blinked a few times and saw a blond man with a clipboard and another man who looked more like himself. The blond man would say some words in English which Akaashi and his brain too foggy could not understand despite his lessons in the language before the other man would say the words in Japanese. âWelcome to California, we hope you are feeling better!â
Akaashi, to say it lightly, was confused. He was in Japan a few seconds ago, he had been dealing with⊠with⊠with something. He could not remember what had happened before. The two males in the room had given him a second to take in his surroundings, and his eyes went to the bracelet on his wrist. Bokuto, the bracelet spelt out, Akaashi did not understand. Hesitantly, he took the bracelet off and left it on the bedside table, the thread had been bothering his skin.
Akaashi listened to them explain how they flied him out to California immediately after he was stabilized from his recent fainting spell, how he had seized for the first time during the course of this disease. How the surgery had supposedly gone perfectly and whatever brain chemicals that were causing the Hanahaki and the flowers had been removed.
Ms. Akaashi watched as her son cried, she watched as he sobbed tears of joy. âMom, I can breathe again,â Akaashi smiled in the tears, the male and translator shared a smile as Keijiâs mom hugged her baby boy.
Akaashi Keiji was officially cleared from Hanahaki the next day.
The recovery process from such an invasive surgery would take its time, but Akaashi enjoyed his new life in California. For the first time in months, he sat in a wheelchair as his mom pushed him in a park outside, making sure to avoid any gardens sprouting with flowers.
Akaashi Keiji was free, the disease which had brought him to deathâs doorstep had left him alive and in the land of opportunity, the United States.
âI was thinking, we should stay here,â Ms. Akaashi mentioned one day as they took their daily stroll through the park by the hospital, Akaashi would be cleared to go home in a week. âThey have offered us a place to stay as they continue to monitor you, but if youâll miss your friends that badly, we can go back.â
Akaashi shrugged his shoulders, he did not remember any of his friends from Japan. He would scroll through his phone and see pictures of him with strangers, pictures he had since deleted. While becoming fluent in English would prove to be a challenge, it was a challenge Akaashi was willing to go through. Akaashi had planned his life accordingly, he would become a doctor and help those like the doctors who helped him. He would go to the school of medicine in Stanford and maybe then, he would move back to Japan.
It would be a waste to throw his chances away and go back to a life he could not even remember.
âLetâs stay here, Mom,â Akaashiâs face was the brightest his mother had seen in months, almost bringing her to tears.
âI love you so much, my sweet Keiji.â
Love?
Akaashi sat in his wheelchair, finding he did not understand the concept. Love in his eyes meant making oneself weak in front of others. He appreciated his mother loving him, but he would not say he reciprocated the sentiment, which shocked him. He was supposed to love his mom, but he just⊠didnât. There was no doubt his mom was important to him, but so was oxygen, and food, and water.
He would not tell her of this realization, only forcing the words out of his mouth. âI love you too.â
Akaashi had achieved his dreams: he graduated from the top of his class, got accepted into Stanford medical school, and then he made sure his mother would not have to work another day in her life. The frail second year Akaashi had become Dr. Akaashi, working his residency at a hospital before moving back to Japan with his mother and opening a clinic of his own.
All without feeling an ounce of love in his life. As time had gone on, he had learned the disease was caused by unrequited love, and he grew distasteful of the past he could not remember, thankful he could not remember his past stupidity. He had learned the surgery removed his ability to love and his memories of the one he loved⊠along with any activities involved with him. It was almost a gift, to not feel love. Nothing would hold him back any longer. What Akaashi could remember was the pain and suffering he faced due to Hanahaki, so he would have a fear of getting sick, but he simply did not get sick either.
He had tried to open up about his story, a progressive Hanahaki survivor. Progressive Hanahaki was the one that killed, chronic Hanahaki made you suffer the rest of your life and personally, Akaashi was thankful he almost died. Not being able to love anyone was not the end of the world as most believed.
Akaashi Keiji was loveless, but free.
#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#doctor hanahaki#bokuaka#akaashi keiji#hanahaki#Lili's Fanfictions#ao3 fanfic#haikyuu akaashi#bokuto koutarou
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Chapter One: The Bounty Hunter
Summary: Picking sides is not something that Yumo likes to do. All she cares about is getting paid and offering her services to the highest bidder. Being a bounty hunter for quite a while has dampened her outlook on the war. Who won or lost doesnât matter to her in the long run. However, running into the Avatar and his friends might just change her attitude a little bit.
Word Count: 3053Â
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A/n: When the avatar netflix series was announced, this idea popped into my head. So here we are!
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âPLEASE! YOU CANâT TAKE ME TO THEM!â A man shouted as he struggled in the chains that kept him from escaping. The rattling of his futile attempt to escape echoed across the port. His shouts drowned out any and all other sounds as vendors and travelers turned to glance at the raucous and watched the commotion. Itâs not like they could save the poor man, after all, he was currently being dragged across the ground by one of the most fierce bounty hunters in the whole world.
The one who dragged this man across the ground with little to no effort wears all black clothing, hiding every and any distinctive feature that they have. The slightly baggy tunic and pants hid anything to identify them. All that people could see was that this person was decently tall and appeared to be extremely agile from the small number of muscles that were actually visible as they pulled on the chains. No one could see their hair color due to the hood they wore that reached over the top of their head and nearly covered the top part of their face. A black cloth covered their mouth and nose, and every once in a while those who paid close attention may be able to catch a glimpse of their dull gray eyes. They were chilling, cold, and terrifying. The eyes of a killer.
Even though this person was dragging along a fully grown man who had to be twice their size, it seemed as though she were doing it with little to no effort. The soldier, for he was a soldier based on his fire nation uniform, struggled in his binds like a fish wishing to escape its net. Though he couldnât do it despite his captor being so small.
âI beg of you, theyâll have me killed please!â
The stoic bounty hunter did not say anything to him. Silent and strong, the person continued to drag the struggling man through the crowds that parted in their wake. Even though he cried and begged for his life, the bounty hunter made no indication that she was listening. Not that she cared all too much about what happened to the man. She had a job to do, and she just wanted to get paid. It just so happened that when she tracked down fire nation soldier deserters she got paid more.
While working with the Fire nation tended to get her dirty looks and horrible names thrown in her direction, she couldnât care about that. What mattered was getting money to feed and have shelter for another few nights. It didnât matter who paid, just as long as it was enough. In that pursuit to find a means of surviving she made a name for herself: Mogwai.Â
Ignoring the stares, the cries of her prisoner, the whispers, Mogwai approached the docks where tall fire nation ships were bobbing slightly in the water.Â
âCommander Zhao, I've been hunting the Avatar for two years, and I -â A voice said.
Then another shouted out, âAnd you failed!â Mogwai recognised the infuriated voice of Commander Zhao. âCapturing the Avatar is too important to leave in a teenager's hands. He's mine now.â
The Avatar? Mogwai thought to themselves. That couldnât be true, considering the wielder of all elements had been gone for one hundred years. There was no way, in their mind, that the Avatar could be around now. Mogwai knew that all of the air benders had been wiped out in the attack against them one hundred years ago. If there was any chance that the avatar was still around, she would know.
Once she entered the tent, still dragging the captive, the bounty hunter found that Zhao was having a meeting. Not that she really cared. She would gladly interrupt the meeting, get paid, and leave as quickly as she could. Soldiers were posted all around the room, which was to be expected, as an old man and scared boy sat at the table in the middle. Of course, Mogwai knew who that scared boy was. It was difficult not to know the stories of the banished prince and the dishonor he brought against his father.Â
Now noticing their new guests, the commander composed himself. Though he continued to glare at the prince as he turned to face the entrance. âKeep them here,â Zhao ordered the other soldiers.
General Iroh looked around at the soldiers as Zhao led the bounty hunter out of the room, âMore tea, please.â
Mogwai was more than happy to pawn off their crying captive to the fire nation soldiers who dragged him away. Less deadweight for them to deal with, since it was more than annoying to hear his begging as she had come all the way back here. So Mogwai turned their lethargic stare to the man that had contracted them a day prior.
The commander smiled at the bounty hunter, âMogwai.â
The bounty hunter nodded their head, not saying a word.Â
âYour reputation precedes you,â Commander Zhao complimented, pleased with the success that Mogwai had achieved. After all, it wasnât like he could send his own men after a deserter, one skilled at hiding. He needed an outsiderâs help, and who better than one of the highest regarded bounty hunters. âA job done efficiently, your payment.â
He handed them a pouch, full of the coins that they had agreed upon before she had set out on her. She opened it up slowly, keeping an eye on the commander who did the same to her. Mogwai slowly counted the coins to make sure that it was what they agreed to. Most of the time people were quite forthcoming with the payment, perhaps scared what the Mogwai would do to them if they skimpped on payment. Though from experience, she knows to always check anyway.
With the money all counted, at the correct amount that Mogwai was looking for, she raised an eyebrow at him. Silently asking him the question, âanything else?â
Zhao tutted, âIâm afraid I have no more work for you, however, Iâll know how to find you if⊠anything else comes up.âÂ
She just nodded her head, with nothing else to say and walked out of the tent. She was greeted by the hesitant gazes of those around the ships and once again paid them no mind. The fire nation was hated by mostly everyone else in the world. Including her. However, she wouldnât turn down a job that paid well.
Sheâs not one for politics. She gave up trying to understand it a long time ago and would much rather stay uninvolved. Most people aligned themselves with their nation's decisions, backing whatever it was their leaders convinced them was right. Yumo has no alliances with any nations. She owed them nothing. She paid attention at times, but didnât let politics rule her mind by any means. Mogwai had other things to worry about like finding food, shelter and work. No need to worry about which nation had power over the world. All that mattered was who had jobs for her and willing to pay handsomely.Â
So Mogwai started stocking up on some food from the market nearby. Paying for the necessities that she would need before heading off on another trek to the next village. Sheâd already been staying at an inn in this village for about three days, too long in her opinion. So it was time to move on and look for work elsewhere. The usual routine for a bounty hunter like her.
After collecting her new purchases she headed back to the inn and collected her bag. It was old and ragged but sturdy enough to withstand the abuse she put it through on a daily basis. The bag was large enough to hold a good amount of food and a few of her knives and extra clothes.Â
âDid you hear?â A hush voice said, âThereâs an Agni Kai!â
Another gasped, âAn Agni Kai?! Between who?â
âThe banished prince and commander Zhao!â
Mogwai tutted while walking past the gossiping people. An Agni Kai, a silly duel between two prideful firebenders. Though considering it would be between the banished fire prince, there was surely going to be the talk of the village. Fire benders, or benders in general always seem far too arrogant for her liking. Besides, she found it more impressive when someone demonstrates skill with a weapon such as a sword or knife than something like bending. If they were to have an agni kai with just swords, then sheâd be impressed.
What needed to be decided now was which way Mogwai headed next. She had been heading South and had finally hit the ocean again. So the only logical thing to do was get on a boat to head to the next piece of land. Besides, she knows just the place to head next. Sheâs lucky that it was close by. The perfect place for her to rest and lay low for a while. Since that fire nation soldier had been a bit more difficult to find than other bounties she had dealt with. A nice reset after a taxing job was just what she needed.
She walked over to a boat, one manned by an older man and bartered her way on. Even if the man was wary of her to begin with. After all, who would want to be stuck on a small boat with someone with such a cold stare. Only one could imagine what someone with a stare like hers would do to them. So whether it was out of fright or kindness, the man allowed her to buy passage on his boat to Kyoshi Island. It was lucky that he was headed there anyway, since he had some trading to do there.
So as they set off, the waves almost comforted Mogwai as she settled down in the furthest seat away from the man, she took off her mask to munch on some bread she just bought. Her features were completely contrary to what type of person she was. A ruthless killer didnât have a button-like nose, or small lips. If it wasnât for the harsh look in her stormy eyes, she would look like any other innocent fifteen year old.Â
Staring out to sea as they started their journey across the ocean to the earth kingdom island, Mogwai knew that she had some time before they made it to the Island. She sighed heavily through her nose, now finished with her bread and resting against the side of the boat. Kyoshi Island had to be one of the only constant things in her life at this point. That was right next to bounty hunting. While most would describe her as a nomad, not sticking to one village for very long before moving on to the next, Kyoshi Island was one place that she had a tendency to return to every once in a while. Perhaps that was because it was quite secluded from the rest of the world and she made decent relationships with the village people.Â
On that island she wasnât Mogwai, since she never had jobs on the island or the clientele out there. Kyoshi was the place where she could just be herself. Just be Yumo. There werenât many places or times where she could just be the normal fifteen-year-old she was. An island full of female warriors and quiet evenings was just the place to let her do that.
---
âCome here,â a soothing voice said, âlook at this.â A warm hand patted down the unruly brunette hair on her head, âyou see that.â
Her gray eyes looked to see that it was two fish, swimming in a circle with each other. Trapped in the small pond that they were sitting beside and having nothing else to do but swim together. She watched as they danced with each other and giggled, âthey look happy.â
âAs happy as a fish can be I would assume,â the man beside her pondered. The two of them shared the same bright gray eyes, shining in the light like a brand new silver chain. As well as that spark of mischievousness and curiosity as they watched the fish dance around in the water.
Yumo tilted her head, her long brown hair falling out of the bun her mother had put it in earlier that morning. She looked up at him, âSo you think they get bored? Swimming nowhere?â
âWell, maybe. Though itâs not like they know anything else.â
Yumo hummed, âIâd get bored. And dizzy.â
âDizzy?â He questioned as a mischievous smile crawled onto his lips, âLike this?!âÂ
Suddenly, Yumo was lifted off of the ground as the man started to spin around in a circle with her in his arms. She broke out into a fit of giggles as he spun her around. âDad!â The nine-year-old giggled, âStop! Iâm dizzy!â
Her father chuckled, âWell, I guess that makes you a fish then, huh?â He paused the spinning and allowed her to crawl up onto his shoulders. He made sure that she was secure while sitting on his shoulders and started to head back to their camp. âNow letâs go, your mother needs help packing up the clothes.â
âAwww, but I thought we were done already!â She whined while pulling at her fatherâs brown hair.
He cringed lightly, âif we were done, we would be on the road already.â
Yumo pouted, âwhy are we leaving? I like this place,â she glanced around the small cave that they had found in the forest. She enthusiastically started ranting, âThe trees are really tall, and the berries taste nice and I found this lizard thing in the cave a few days ago.â
There was a chuckle, âyes, your mom was very happy with the new friend you found.â He did sigh though, âI know itâs a hassle to keep moving like this, but think of all the adventures we can have in the next village we find!â He said happily, âThere can be tons of new food to try and people to meet!â
Yumo hummed, considering the offer he pointed out to her, âI guess youâre right!â
âIâm always right!â He smiled brightly up at her.
She just pouted, âNuh uh!â
âYea huh!â
âNo way!â
âYes way!âÂ
---
Yumo knew that the fire licking at her arms was going to leave a scar. As she cried out in pain and panic, she still ran as fast as she could. Her mother and fatherâs desperate demands called for her to run, and run far. So she wasnât going to disregard their commands, not now.Â
The newest home that they had found, a small earth nation village deep in the mountains, had turned out to be the worst place to settle. They had been tired, wanting to just settle down in the nearest village when a group of people on rhinos attacked them. It was a blur to Yumo, since she had no idea what the people that had wanted from them. What she did know was that they were fire benders. They lit her familyâs camp ablaze for no reason, in her mind, and terrorized her parents. Whether it was luck or some miracle, Yuma was able to slip away from the fire bending soldiers. Though that wasnât without some reminders of her escape. She needed to get somewhere safe, though being in the middle of the woods, she didnât know where to go.Â
Her parents had made sure to teach her how to survive, live off of the nature around them. However, her mind was panicked and running in circles from the pain radiating upon her arm. She didnât know what to do, where to go. Yumo was lost and fearful.
---
Yumo jumped out of her thoughts, her mind having drifted while watching the waves as they headed further out to sea. It was like this most times. She itched at the bandages around her arms. They were nearly completely covering her arms up towards her biceps and were causing quite a bit of a phantom pain at the moment. Whenever she had a moment to herself her mind wandered to the good things and the bad things of her life. It was almost like her mind was taunting her every chance it could to remind her of what she lost and how. There was no denying that it was painful, but she has to move on. She has to be indifferent to the past and keep moving forward.Â
Speaking of moving forward, the boat ride took about a day to get to Kyoshi island. She had zoned out for most of the ride, letting her mind drift to subjects less than pleasant.Â
âHey, weâre here.â
Yumo grunted in acknowledgement, nodded to the man one final time before hoping off of his boat and into the village. It was familiar yet different. It had been a while since she had been on the island and it was quite refreshing.Â
Yumo took off the hood on her head, letting the short, unruly brunette hair breath. It had been quite a while since she had taken it off. It felt freeing for a moment to finally allow herself toÂ
âYumo!â A voice called out. âItâs so good to see you!â
She turned to see two girls in Kyoshi warrior garb running over to her. Yumo didnât have much of a choice but to allow the two to attack her in a bone crushing hug. Even if she prepared as quickly as possible for it, it still knocked the wind out of her, and the three landed on the ground in a heap.
The two girls giggled as they bombarded Yumo with questions about her whereabouts and any new stories she had to share with them. Yumo, while not a very physical person, was more than okay with letting them crush her ribs. It brought her quite a bit of joy in her life. Perhaps that was a huge reason why she kept coming back to this island. Though she wouldnât admit it.
âItâs been so long since youâve been here!â One of the girls on top of Yumo, the shorter of the two, exclaimed.
She gave the girls a small, relieved smile, âitâs good to be back.â
---
Blog Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Next Chapter
#avatar#avatar the last airbender#atla#avatar: the last airbender#Avatar: the last airbender fanfiction#atla fanfic#atla fanfiction#fanfiction writer#fanfics#fanfiction#fanfic#ocs#multiple ocs#oc#female oc#female!oc#male oc#male!oc
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YOUVE ALREADY SEEN IT ACTUALLY it was the one i posted in sqs earlier (although i did tweak this version a little bit a little bit)
however, that is all the encouragement i need
so! the myrrch (lit. cats-of-the-ocean). one of many cultures in my Big Worldbuilding Universe (tm), and arguably the most developed (they have a whole wip conlang ffs). theyre actually an import from a warrior cats story i wrote a while ago but that's unimportant
they live up north in the regions known as the Marrch (lit. lands-of-the-ocean), and are the only cultural group living north of the arctic circle on [unnamed continent where this story takes place]. in their original concept, they were maine coon mixes, but this universe doesnt have irl cat breeds obv so theyre just Ambiguously Big and Fluffy. i mean, this way i can pull in some traits from other big northern breeds, like Siberians and Norwegian Forest Cats
anyways. as such, they tend to be quite tall, heavy, and thick-furred, with broad muzzles. the most common colors among them are grey and black, along with silver and smoke variants of both. they often have some degree of white spotting--they are known to have 'atypical' (by our world's terms) white spotting patterns, specifically spotting that's more blotched rather than your average tuxedo-type patterning.
white fur, high-contrast tabby markings, bluish-green eyes, large ear tufts, and large 'manes' are all considered attractive.
their language, myrrmrarr, is notable for its vowel system, wherein the Vague Idea being conveyed by a word is defined by the consonants and vowels of the second syllable onwards, while the specific aspect/concept it's referring to is defined by the first vowel slot. you may have noticed this already based on 'myrrch' and 'marrch' being the same word (__-of-the-ocean) with a different vowel!
vowel meanings are as follows:
Y â cat of, person of. Typically used in names, but not always. Myrr is cat-of-the-ocean.
UU â unlike (sometimes transcribed as âooâ or âwâ). Muurr is unlike-the-ocean.
O â used to denote personification/âdeity ofâ for abstract concepts or inanimate objects. Morr is the deity of the ocean, and the ocean incarnate.
A â land of. Marr is land-of-the-ocean.
U - just the thing itself. Murr is just the ocean.
Vowels can be used in combination with one another, however the first takes⊠precedence? ig. For example, âmuuyrrâ would mean âcat of the muurrâ, while âmyuurrâ would mean âunlike a myrrâ
their religion largely centers around the ocean. it makes sense--they typically live on the coastline as fishercats and sailors. Their creator deity is quite literally the ocean herself, Morr.
A notable figure in myrr mythology is Myrr Syf (Fog), known in the southern lands as Mercy and probably actually the fantasy-etymology for that word. she's something of a folk hero, having supposedly drowned the tyrant king Yrrth (i dont know what that one means yet lmao. it's based on 'arthur' as a little easter egg as to Syf's source--the character she's derived from also ended up being derived into Mordred in my arthuriana thing) via dragging him into the cold ocean, been blessed by Morr, and walked back out of the ocean alive. there's probably like 113143322313232 paintings of that scene, it just seems like the type to Enrapture vaguely cat-medieval artists.
due to their thick fur, they shed heavily in the spring and autumn, and often spin their shed fur into yarn.
they are a ways north of the ex-moltenfire nations, though there is a non-insignificant population of myrrch living in especially the Mirror Lake and Northern Forest Kingdoms, as those are the only ones with a coastline. many of them are sailors and dockworkers who came from the north by sea.
howdy guys do you all want to read the 595 word oc lore infodump i wrote earlier
#spire rambles#my ocs#tales of godborn#worldbuilding tag#i fucking love worldbuilding and htinking about ficutional cultures and stuff. can you tell
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dreamy | genshin impact (1/2)
ft. arataki itto, thoma, kujou sara
tags : unrequited love, angst, little comfort
honestly just wanna write something not fluffy
divided into two parts, i'll update the post with link to the 2nd part as soon as it's posted.
part 1 - part 2
---------------------------------------------
Arataki Itto is so dreamy.
Strong, gentle, and unbelievably kind. While he may be lacking in the intelligent department, you thought that his personality truly made up for it. He always did things he didnât have to just to help with utmost consideration, always making you laugh, and always making sure youâre not working yourself too hard or get yourself hurt. Sometimes all you can think about is how the heck the whole nationâs eligible man and woman hadnât had a crush on this guy yet.
Although, similar like the happy stuff you dreamt, he also felt far away. Like the light that was on the end at a tunnel but the more you chased it, the further it hastes. Like a rainbow where no one knows where it ends. This secret of this feelings of yours, you will keep it hidden for as long as needed. Itâd decided long before that,
Arataki Itto is unattainable.
Why are you so certain? Well why shouldnât you, when he told you days and nights, how dreamy Kujou Sara is.
--
"And then she just looked back as if she didn't just killed an enemy from 300 yards away with that beautiful bow of hers!" Itto claimed excitedly, while walking side by side with you.
That tugged a little of your heartstring. Although it wasnât the first time, and probably wonât the last either. The main problem is not even that he talks about her, it's how he does it all the time when he's with you.
What? Are you that dull that he thought the only conversation that would last between the two of you is the one where he sounds completely over heels over the General of the Tenryou Commission?
If so, with how much he talks about her and how little you responded, it sure sounds like he'd be entirely fine just by himself.
But alas, you also couldnât lie to yourself that if someone asks what has been the best part of your day, you'd answer it's when the big dumb man named Itto comes to visit. The little minutes where he didnât talk about you know who, and instead told you about his day, cracking up jokes, telling you all about the beetle fight he had attended that day.
That, that was when you couldnât take your eyes off of him, because in that in between seconds you didnât have to be reminded and heâs the Itto thatâs out of your reach, the Itto you have feelings for but couldnât say, the Itto that completely doesnât see you in that way.
You offered a small smile as response, swallowing the bitter taste that lingered in your mouth. âYeah, she is amazing, isnât she?â
âShe sure is! Oh, this is you, Iâve been talking so much I didnât even pay attention and that weâve arrived at your house!â He grinned, scratching the back of his head. Well quite the opposite, youâve been counting the steps until you finally arrive.
âWell thank you again for accompanying me home Itto, you really donât have to,â you said. â Not this again, every evening and what not I drag you along with me doing whatever I wanted, the least I could do is send you back home safely.â He pat your head, his overbearing smile somehow painful on your part.
âYeah well, I had fun too so donât worry so much!â You smiled, that one was genuine. You couldnât be more honest when you say you always looked forward his visits on the evening. Often, heâd take you on his strongest beetle-searching, adventuring along the scary yet fascinating hills and cliffs of Inazuma.
And youâve loved every minute of it.
Needless to say that the thunder nation is breathtaking, even though youâve lived here your entire life, youâre only realizing that and you only got to know that only thanks to the man in front of you.
It may seem that a gratitude is overdue, the same way how ending all of this is overdue.
However fun youâve had, you just donât think itâs worth it anymore to stay until the curtain rises, revealing a man whoâs hopelessly in love with Kujou Sara. Especially how your feelings are getting stronger each day you spent time with him, only to have your heart shattered little-by-little.
You always said youâd end it, and today now youâve reached your 10th reminder.
âWell then, Iâm off!â The blaring voice snapped you out of the trance. Heâd already so far away by the time you realized, your eleventh reminder will come tomorrow.
--
âHey, thought youâd be here.â A gentle voice called out. You had been leaning on the big tree that grew behind your house. Sitting there was the perfect angle to see the moon just above the water. Itâs a good thing you lived by the big lake. It was always your favorite place; to hide, or cry. Whatever it was that overwhelmed you.
âThoma?! Itâs midnight how are you here?â You claimed, surprised written all over you. Thoma was your friend first before he was the housekeeper of the Kamisato Clan. Few years ago at the time he had no mora and hadnât known what heâd do at Inazuma, you knew you couldnât just leave him alone the moment you heard, thus you sometimes you had him help around the house for the spare Mora you had, which wasnât much, still, Thoma appreciated it regardless.
But Thoma never felt like a helper, he was always a friend. And on his spare time doing god knows thatâbut it must be something right that he gained the trust of the Kamisato Clan and now have a home of his own and work he has pride in. You were beyond happy when he told you and he promised to keep in contact. Which he did, until this very day.
Every week on days you could never guess he always visit you.
And today just one of those time.
âWell I planned on visiting on earlier hours but the business I had to attend went longer than I expected, and I thought about going back immediately since you probably already asleep, but with the stories youâve been telling me about this Itto guy, I doubt that you sleep early these days,â Thoma sat beside you, leaning back as well.
âI hate it when youâre right,â you said, hugging your knees, eyes resting on the tranquil moon. âDid something happen today?â he asked, feeling that youâre especially weary today.
âNothing new really, I still like him, he still likes Kujou Sara, just the usual good stuff,â you emphasized the sarcasm.
Thoma couldnât stand seeing you like this, the way your shoulder always slumped now, and your emotion was dependent on a single person. He sighed out of concern, âI keep telling you-â he started but you quickly cut him off. â-I should move on.â
Saying it aloud didnât make you feel better, it just made it felt more real.
You continued, âI know, but itâs just-â You took a deep breath, it was a little shaky. âItâs hard.â Thoma finished it off. He offered a quiet comfort, putting a hand on your back. âI feel like you had to be there but Itto always talks about her with this expression I canât put my hand on. It was so, sofull of love and adoration I-I couldnât help but yearn for that,â you meekly explained, voice barely audible at the end of the sentence.
âI guess it just hurts so much to keep being reminded that I will never mean that much to him,â you chuckled quietly out of pity for yourself, tears flowing freely.
Thoma was quiet, not because he didnât know what to say because he always knew. Itâs because this time heâs certain that no word on the dictionary would be any help to mend whateverâs hurting you right now.
The nightfall continued along with your quiet sobs and sniffle, Thoma was by your side the entire time.
#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact#genshin angst#arataki itto#itto#itto x sara#itto x reader#thoma#genshin thoma#kujou sara#thoma x reader
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ii. secret.
read on ao3
Lena Luthor dies a villain.
Her death took out half the population in the vicinity. A blinding white light piercing through the National City skyline. A deafening boom heard 5 cities over. An explosion so great, even Supergirl was knocked dead.
And so, Lena Luthor dies a villain.
Alone and young. And so, so bitter. An accomplice and ally to Lex Luthor.
Some would even say she was a greater, far more cunning, far more terrifying force than Lex.
There were rumors that the woman had magic at the end of it all. That no one person could be capable of that much destruction without the help of something inhuman.
But well, rumors were all it can be, especially when all possible witnesses perished along with the Luthors.
******
Weeks later, Andrea Rojas holds a memorial event for Lena Luthor; protesters burn the venue to the ground.
Months later, Supergirl returns to the world. More radiant than ever. More alive than ever. Stronger. Better.
Years later, National City recovers fully from the whole catastrophe.
Supergirl is reported to most frequently be seen in the memorial square for the fallen victims. A dozen paparazzi pictures of the caped heroine quietly walking, sometimes whispering under breath.
Praying, somebody on a CatCo article comments. Sheâs always praying whenever we see her there.
****** The closet doors burst open and out steps Alex Danvers.
A colorful stream of expletives coming right along with her, âFuckinâ fur coats, goddamn hangers, fucking hitting me in the faceââ
âTook you long enough,â a familiar voice greets her, âwhere the hell have you been? And why are you so...dirty? If you track mud on my carpet I swear to God, Alexââ
âI was cleaning your grave, okay?â she snaps, setting down a bucket filled with various cleaning supplies, that Lenaâs just now noticing, on said carpet.
âOh.â
âYeah, yeah,â Alex huffs about, crossing her arms, âYou donât have to make a big deal about it. I donât want to do it again, itâs a bitch for my back pain. I was just pissed about the graffiti. Youâd think people would have better manners than defacing the grave of a dead woman. If only theyââ
âThank you, Alex,â she cuts her off, a shy smile gracing her face. She really doesnât want to hear about the rest of it. And if Alex doesnât want to make a big deal out of it, then no big deal shall be made.
âThereâs coffee in the kitchen,â she says then, and Alex just nods, grabs her bucket of supplies again and turns to leave.
Although not before saying, âRemind me again why you let Kara win? With the portal?â
Lena just shrugs, dark hair escaping out of her messy bun at the movement.
âShe said sheâs always wanted to go to Narnia.â
Alex shakes her head, rolls her eyes, âWhipped.â
And well, that sounds about right.
******
Thereâs a documentary on Netflix about the Luthors. Lenaâs face in black and white, on the preview banner, a big red X drawn over it.
Kara snaps the remote in half.
Lena reaches over the blanket, grabs her hand, flicks the TV off with only a swish of her fingers and a glitter of sparks.
âCâmere,â she says, tugging gently, till she has a lapful of Krytonian draped over her. Lena traces her fingers over the crinkle between Karaâs brow, smooths them out, thumb dragging across lips till it pulls to a soft smile.
âWe know the truth,â she tells her, âand thatâs enough.â
âItâs not fair.â
Nothing ever is.
******
âHowâre the kids?â She asks, one hand whisking eggs, the other holding the bowl steady.
âOh, you know, asking me a thousand silly questions a day. Driving Alex crazy. Never letting me sleep. Theyâre perfect, really,â Kelly says, and Lena hums in response. Before she catches Kelly popping a blueberry in her mouth, a crime punishable by Lena Luthorâs death stare.
âThose are for the muffins.â A foam covered whisk points dangerously to Kellyâs chest.
She raises both arms in surrender, palms opening, dropping the remaining three blueberries onto the counter.
âYou know, Iâve seen you do it a thousand times, yet it still doesnât fail to surprise me.â
Lena concludes sheâs talking about the baking tray hovering in the air, a feet away from them, greasing itself. Or maybe itâs the soup at the stove with a ladle stirring itself.
âWhat can I say,â Lena quips, smirking, âIâm magical like that.â
******
Andrea finds her on a Tuesday.
One minute Lena is reading quietly on her front porch, the next, there is an explosion of sound in her living room. She throws open her door, magical energy sizzling at her fingertips.
The sight that greets her stops her in her tracks. Acrata pinning Supergirl down, their coffee table destroyed. She sighs internally, she loved that coffee table. It was a wedding gift from Nia and Brainy.
âI knew it,â Andrea whispers, her grip slackens around the hero's throat. She stands up slowly, as if afraid that if she moved too fast Lena would disappear. She leaves Supergirl gasping on the floor; materializes in front of Lena in a cloud of black smoke.
âI knew it. I knew it. I knew it.â She sobs into Lenaâs blouse, arms wrapped tightly around her. Lena embraces her on instinct, her eyes closing briefly, before opening up again to check on Kara dusting herself off.
âAndrea,â Lena croaks, âyou canât tell anyone.â
You canât tell anyone Iâm alive. You canât tell anyone how I tricked Lex, how I saved Supergirl, how I saved National City.
âNobody will know,â Andrea promises her.
******
There is a cottage by the woods that nobody else sees, where every Sunday a blonde woman rips apart pieces of wood with her bare hands, where a pale woman with even paler hands grows crops from the barren earth within seconds, where the closet hides cities instead of clothes, where a dead woman and a hero spend their lives in bliss.
******
It has been ten years, her hair is more gray than blonde now, her skin more wrinkled than smooth, her hearing though? Her hearing is still better than ever. And it has been ten years since sheâs heard that tell-tale whoosh of a cape, itâs been a decade and still, the sound brings her the same thrill, the same adrenaline.
âTo what do I owe the pleasure, Supergirl? Or should I say, Superwoman, now?â
And oh-
She did not come alone.
Lena Luthor is set gently down on the balcony.
If Cat Grant wasnât Cat Grant, sheâs sure she wouldâve already suffered a heart attack from the mere sight of a woman long dead standing breathing and alive in her home. She wouldâve shrieked and demanded answers.
âI need a favor,â Kara tells her, stalking closer, hand on her hip. Cat wouldâve laughed at that if this were some other time. No need to play the intimidating game with me, Kiera, she wouldâve said.
âWhat is it?â
âI need you to break a story,â she tells her. âYou, Cat. I want you, and nobody else to cover this.â
Cat raises her brow at that, she already has an inkling as to what the story might be about.
âA story hmm? This better be good, if Iâm to come out of retirement for it.â
This time itâs Lena Luthor who speaks. Cat has been dying to hear what she has to say.
âItâll be good," she promises her, "Itâll be better than good."
Kara crowds closer to Lena, then; wraps a protective arm on her waist. Cat watches frozen as Lena's index finger lights in flame. What a sight they make.
"Youâll be telling the entire world the last Luthorâs secret.â
#it's already october 2 in my corner of the world so...#yeah.#LOOK I JUST WANT LENA TO LIVE THE COTTAGECORE WITCH LESBIAN DREAM OKAY?#the reckless writer writes#a supercorp ficlet of sorts#if u see a typo no u didnt#supercorptober 2021#supercorp
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A Beyond Evil Fic Rec List: Works in Progress
[So, apparently, you can break Tumblr when you write too much or include too many links, or I don't know, are just too much in general. So, I'm splitting this rec list into three posts.]
So, I was meant to post this a long time ago, but life got in the way. This post only includes uncompleted fics with mixed ratings.
FYI: This will be an ever-growing list and will be updated semi-regularly
You can find the General and Teen fic rec list here. The Mature and Explicit fic rec list is currently [as of 20/10/2022] uncompleted
Works in Progress love, at least by ltyrell Rated: Explicit General Lee Dongsik returns to the capital at the summons of the king. A king he has long believed had something to do with his sister's mysterious death twenty years ago. A king he intends to bring to justice, whatever the personal cost.
A king whose son just might throw a wrench into those plans.
[or: Joseon era jwds with some plot but more flirting]
if I could never give you peace by ltyrell Rated: Mature Juwon deserves better than this, than him. He deserves someone younger, brighter, less burdened. Someone who hasnât been broken down and pieced back togetherâthe cracks sealed with tenderness and care, certainly, but there nonetheless.
Dongsik might love him with his whole being, but it has been a long time since his being was whole.Â
[or: post-canon jwds pine with the best of them, until one of them finally works up the nerve to make a move. then they pine a little more.]
the bitter and the sweet by princesskay Rated: Explicit Four years later, Joo-won moves back to Manyang to find things the same yet irrevocably changed. In the year since his probation ended, Dong-sik has traveled as far as Busan and Jeju, making it a point not to come back frequently; but the imminent demolition of the grocery and Joo-won's reappearance turn the tide of his escape. Meanwhile, Han Ki-hwan reaches back out to his only son, convinced that he never was quite able to drag himself back out of hell ...
if you don't love me, pretend by whir Rated: Mature Throughout his life, Kwon Hyuk has always been second. Second class, second best, second choice. That all changes when Juwon comes along and makes Kwon Hyuk his first. First friend, first confidant, perhaps even his first love. Ten years together, three years apart. A wedding to reunite them one last time. This is their story from the very beginning to the very end.
about love (and what's after that) by Katierosefun Rated: General For Joo Won: why did it have to be you.
For Dong Sik: of course, it had to be you.
Neither, of course, would say this for a good while.
At last, Dong Sik smiled.
âWell,â he said. âLong time, no see, Inspector Han.â
[or: after not speaking to each other for a while, dong sik and joo won wind up having to pose as a married couple for an operation.]
read all the books beside your bed by Katierosefun Rated: General Han Joo Won stared at Dong Sik, then at the crowd of students.
He looked unimpressed, as though he wasnât the most hated professor in the nation.
âProfessor Lee,â he said calmly. âThereâs no need to kick down my door.â
[or: the au where lee dong sik and han joo won are forcibly made co-professors.]
In your arms (Iâm me myself) by zombielots Rated: Explicit "Everyone likes a well behaved boy," His boots scuff on the pavement as his hand removes the cigarette from his lips and rubs out the burning tip in between two fingers on his opposite hand. Mr Lee gives Juwon a charming grin, and grabs his hand.
or juwon walks into a bdsm club after breaking up with his boyfriend and leaves enchanted by a man.
The Obligatory Time Travel Story by BarbaraAburi Rated: Mature Juwon had stared into his fatherâs eyes, he had actually watched as the man in front of him decided whether to kill his own son or not, he had watched as he abruptly inhaled, as if searching for strength to actually do it.
Heâd heard a scream coming from the door.
The sound of the gunshot.
And thenâŠ
He woke up.
---
Or
Every fandom needs a Time Travel fic, this is the first of many.
De noche y de dĂa by Oodblood Rated: General Joowon hits his head. Apparently, that gifts him the ability to read minds through eye contact. This isn't going to end well. As it turns out, Dongsik has a lot of very interesting thoughts about him. Interesting, intense, detailed thoughts.
company policy by 64907 Rated: Explicit Office AU. Han Joowon returns to Korea at his fatherâs behest and finds himself more than curious with one of the companyâs executives.
Werewolf Heart by jsikook Rated: Explicit Han Joowon is an up-and-coming Crime Thriller book author. In his current series, he writes of a heartless serial killer who reeks havoc on a small town and terrorizes the citizens.
Lee Dongsik is an avid, and passionate fan of Joowonâs work. Determined to get his attention and win his love, he starts to copy every murder that Joowon writes about in his books.
rare is this love (keep it covered) by JasperMeadows Rated: Teen In a world where everyone is born with a scar that represents their soulmate, two men who have convinced themselves that it's all a farce are destined to cross paths.
Han Juwon owns an independent bookstore in Hongdae. Lee Dongsik owns a flower shop in nearby Manyang. They shouldn't have anything to do with each other but one day an empty lot opens up across the street from Red Fox Books and Dongsik takes a leap of faith.
When a chance meeting confirms what they once thought to be impossible or foolish, Juwon and Dongsik will come to learn what happens when perhaps, just once, you learn to let love in.
[alternatively: the jwds soulmate, bookstore, and flower shop au no one asked for!]
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danviers·:
â Neither did I, â  Alex offered:  an honest confession, accompanied by the purposeful, soothing path of her thumb along the soft webbing between Samâs thumb and forefinger. A solemn one. A sober one. Â
â I mean, what weâve been through together⊠with Reign, and losing Kara, and my dad⊠ itâs not how I saw any of this going. â Â
That had been an understatement, if ever there was one;  a too simple, too - straightforward reflection of a handful of the worst moments theyâd endured side by side, shoulder to shoulder âbut a sentiment still wholly comprised of the naked, unabashed truth. Whatever ideal future theyâd each imagined, no matter how Alex had fantasized about what the future might hold, long before the silver band encircling Samâs ring finger had found its way into her coat pocket, nothing in life was ever so easily promised. Â
â I know this hasnât been the easiest start, â  she breathed, the hush of that statement stalling behind the half bitten - back curl of her lip.  â But I donât regret leaving the DEO.  Or where we are.  Itâs just⊠my whole life, I have had this purpose. You know, andâŠÂ now itâs gone, andâŠÂ the reality is that I felt useless.  LikeâŠÂ I have been letting you down somehow. â
â   i  know.   â     thereâs  no  playbook  for  the  kind  of  existence  that  starts  with  an  unplanned  pregnancy,  a  foot  between  her  shoulder  blades   &   a  closed  door  to  quickly  follow.   thereâs  less  of  one  for  a  universe  in  which  she  has  her  origins  in  the  glowing  green  rock  of  a  dead  planet   &   drenched  in  magic  blacker  than  the  sky  at  its  darkest.   with  their  paths  twined  together  like  alexâs  fingers  slotting  easily  between  her  own  just  now,  they  are  in  a  universe  wholly  unmapped.   there  is  nothing  normal  about  the  circumstances  of  their  coupling   &   nothing  EASY  about  the  trajectory  forward.     samâs  shoulders  dip  in  that  momentary  admonishment  of  defeat.   the  cut  of  her  sideways  glance  dashes  toward  alex   &   stays  to  face  the  honest  truth  of  where  they  are.   â   i  guess  i  just  ...  iâd  hoped  this  would  be  the  one  time  where  everything  went  according  to  plan.   â Â
still,  the  mantra  that  sheâd  offered  ruby  once  in  a  late  night  in  her  national  city  office   --   one  that  right  now  offers  a  shadow  of  a  wound  still  learning  to  seal  itself  up   --   rises  at  the  tip  of  her  tongue.    stronger  together.   its  reflection  in  the  vows  that  theyâd  said  to  one  another  through  the  best   &   the  worst,  through  the  laughter   &   tears.   Â
sam  tucks  that  thought  behind  the  press  of  her  mouth,  head  dragging  back   &   forth.    â   you  could  never  let  me  down.   â Â
â   alex,  you  have  done  so  much  for  me,    &   for  ruby.   â   her  palm,  close  to  alexâs,  gives  a  squeeze  that  could  only  offer  its  reassurance.    â   youâve  always been  there  for  both  of  us,  no  matter  what  happens.   the  last  thing  you  are  is  useless.   â     sam,  though,  for  her  truth  behind  those  words,  is  restive,  anxious  to  work  toward  a  solution  that  she  canât  seem  to  sum  up  out  of  numbers  or  figures.   but  this,  for  the  ache  that  it  riles,  feels  like  a  step  forward.    â   just  ⊠ tell  me  how  to  be  there  for  you  right  now.   &   i  will.   always.   â Â
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