#i am holding turns and spinning her (gently) (she needs a break) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elysiaheaven · 1 month ago

Note

Please some headcanons with Angel from Killer Chat with a Kangel/Ame! Themed reader.

TW: Mentions of blood, breakdowns, Ame-chan-as reader, P-chan as manager, Violence.

ANGEL X STREAMER (KANGEL/AME-CHAN) READER.

This takes place after the angel's ending! You are both a writer and a streamer! But Kangel is your online persona, So people don't know the famous writer is you!

The flickering blue light of your streaming setup dances across your face as you hunch over the desk. Your eyes burn from lack of sleep, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is content. Growth. Metrics. Numbers ticking up. More. P-Chan said you needed to keep pushing if you wanted to keep your audience—and the two of you had come so far.

The clock reads 3:47 AM, but who’s counting?

"Stream again tomorrow," P-Chan had said earlier. "Engagement spikes if we do a morning and night stream. Rest later." You heard the words, nodded like a puppet, and went back to editing, coding thumbnails, planning collabs. And here you were—KAngel, radiant and perfect—trapped inside you.

But you weren’t Y/N anymore. Not lately. You couldn’t afford to be.

Angel’s footsteps are soft but deliberate when she enters your room, as if trying not to startle you. You know that gait by now—light, careful, yet holding a hint of her usual confidence. She leans against the doorway, her arms crossed, platinum hair shining in the dim light like a halo around her head.

“Babe...” she starts gently, almost cautiously, “when’s the last time you slept?”

You don’t turn around. You’re still tweaking some dumb thing on OBS that won’t matter in the long run, but perfection is non-negotiable. Angel’s reflection flickers on your screen next to your webcam overlay.

"Sleep is for when we’re dead," you say, voice saccharine and honey-coated—the playful, detached, perfectly marketable tone KAngel always used. “Gotta keep up appearances, darling~ Can’t let the fans down, can we?”

You plaster on a grin that feels too tight, your expression eerily similar to the one Angel uses when she’s stuck behind the mask of Heartsick Angel. A mirror reflecting another mirror—fake, fake, fake.

She notices immediately.

"Don't do that." Her voice sharpens, the soft concern shifting into something firmer. "That’s not you. That’s not my Y/N."

You roll your eyes—KAngel’s eyes.

"I think it’s kind of funny you’d say that, Heartsick," you respond, a smile teasing the edges of your mouth. It’s not a real smile. Just a pretty one. "You’re doing fine now, aren’t you? But someone’s gotta keep the machine running, right? If you don’t hustle, the numbers drop—P-Chan’s told me that a million times. Can’t let things slip."

Angel steps closer, her lips pressed into a thin line, concern turning into quiet frustration.

"You are slipping," she mutters. “This isn’t what we wanted. It’s not supposed to be like this.”

"Relax, babe!" you chirp, leaning back in your chair dramatically, like you’ve just nailed a joke on stream. "We’re thriving. It’s all part of the grind! They love us! We’ll be trending in no time if I just keep pushing harder—”

“You’re crashing, Y/N.” Her voice cracks at the edges now, and the sound makes your heart lurch. “You’re... turning into what I was. And I—I can’t just sit and watch that happen. Not to you."

Her hands tremble slightly as she reaches for you, but you spin your chair away, shutting her out. It’s easier to play pretend than confront what’s actually happening. You throw up the walls of KAngel—the upbeat idol with the perfect words. It’s safer there.

"You worry too much~" you hum, sing-song. "C’mon, Angel. Gotta keep the show going, yeah? Fans love us when we’re a little insane. It’s what they signed up for!"

Her expression shifts—frustration melting into something softer, almost resigned. She crouches down by your chair now, eye-level with you, forcing you to see the raw emotion on her face.

“Y/N...” Her voice drops into a whisper, and the nickname, said so softly, so real, almost breaks something inside you. “Come back to me. Please.”

It was sadly a while, she saw you again. Ever since, you just named her heartsick- Ronin decided to call angel Heartsick as well just to annoy her.

The apartment feels too quiet without your usual endless stream of commentary playing in the background. Angel sits cross-legged on the couch, her fingers tapping nervously on the armrest as her hair falls over her eyes. Currently she was talking to ronin about it.....

Angel bites her lip, the anxiety gnawing at her. “I’m really worried about them,” she mutters, glancing toward your closed bedroom door where you’ve locked yourself away for another late-night grind. "They’ve been slipping back. Like... a relapse.”

Ronin arches an eyebrow, shifting slightly to make himself more comfortable. “Yeah, well," he drawls, the edge of his lip curling into an ironic smirk, "You’re not exactly unfamiliar with that, are you, Angel?” His voice is teasing, but not unkind—just that usual post-ironic delivery that makes it impossible to tell when he's being serious. "You love the whole femme fatale thing. But, your manager- It's the same for them, Their Manager They love the attention. Two sides of the same messed-up coin, babe."

Angel shoots him a warning glare. "It’s different, Ronin. I love what I do... They—" she trails off, struggling to find the right words. "They just want to be seen. Not loved. Just... noticed. Like if the stream stops, they stop existing too."

Ronin tilts his head, feigning deep thought with a grin, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of her. “Sounds existential. You sure you’re not projecting a little, Heartsick?”

Angel huffs, brushing her hair back with a frustrated motion. “I’m serious, Ronin. I don’t know if I’m enough. It’s like they’re drowning and I can’t pull them out. And P-Chan..." She trails off, rubbing her temples. “P-Chan is making everything worse. They’re forcing them into these fanservice streams, pushing them way past the line.”

Ronin hums thoughtfully. "P-Chan sounds like dead weight. Ever think about, y'know... handling it?” He drags a finger across his throat, smirking darkly. “Clean solution.”

Angel glares, her fists clenched. “They’d never forgive me if I did that, Ronin. You know how they get. P-Chan is their safety net—twisted as it is.”

"Safety net, huh?" Ronin taps his chin theatrically. “Sounds more like a straitjacket. The longer they stick with P-Chan, the more they spiral, right?” He leans forward now, his grin softening just slightly. “Look, You and them... you're the same. You keep doing this because you love it. They’re doing it because they think the world will forget them if they stop. Big difference. P-Chan's just gonna make that worse."

Angel presses her palms together, anxiety simmering beneath her calm surface. “So what do I do, Ronin? I can’t just—kill—P-Chan. Y/n really cared for them." She swallows hard, hating how the thought had even crossed her mind.

Ronin leans back, shrugging nonchalantly. "Don’t gotta kill P-Chan if you play it smart. You just gotta make sure they see the truth before it’s too late. Either you save them now... or you let P-Chan destroy them. Your call, Heartsick."

Angel lowers her gaze, the weight of Ronin’s words pressing down on her. Think, Angel. Think.

She knows what you’re becoming—knows what it’s like to crave the spotlight until it consumes you. She’s been there. But pulling you back feels impossible, like trying to catch a shadow in the dark.

"I just want them to be okay," she whispers, her voice cracking under the weight of the fear she’s carried for months.

Ronin stands, cracking his neck with a lazy roll of his shoulders. “Then make them okay, Angel." He flashes a grin—not his devilish smirk, but something oddly genuine. "Even if they hate you for it. Better they hate you alive than love you dead, right?”

Angel stays quiet, her hands trembling slightly. She knows he’s right. But knowing doesn’t make it any easier.

And inside your room, you hit Go Live again. Your reflection in the screen stares back at you—not Y/n, but KAngel. Perfect, flawless, and adored.

Because if they love KAngel, they’ll never forget you.

Right?........

It wasn't always like this...

Whenever you, as KAngel, pull off a new stream, Angel is your biggest cheerleader. She’ll send you cute emojis in the chat and leave supportive comments, helping you feel adored and validated in your KAngel persona.

After a long day of streaming and managing your persona, you both curl up on the couch, surrounded by soft blankets. Angel loves to tuck her head under your chin, feeling safe and cherished. You can feel her happiness radiating off her in these quiet moments, and it gives you the confidence to continue being KAngel.

Angel affectionately calls you “(Insert-the nickname)” complimenting how you light up her life with your bubbly KAngel persona. The way her eyes sparkle when she looks at you makes your heart flutter.

You both brainstorm ideas for content that could highlight both your personalities—KAngel’s flirtatious charm and Yours sincerity. Planning these videos brings you closer, and you share laughter and ideas late into the night.

But now..?

Over time, the pressure to maintain KAngel starts to weigh heavily on you. You feel the need to keep up appearances and not disappoint your fans, leading you to push past your limits. Angel starts to notice you growing more withdrawn during your off-time, no longer wanting to share those intimate moments.

During a stream, something goes wrong—a technical issue or a slip of the tongue. Instead of laughing it off like KAngel would, you freeze, panic surging through you. After the stream, you lock yourself in your room, ashamed of showing your vulnerable side, and Angel’s concern turns into frustration as she tries to reach you.

the days went on, the pressure from P-Chan only intensified. Your streams became increasingly fanservice-oriented, focusing more on what would bring in views rather than what you loved. You had to put on the KAngel persona, becoming overly bubbly and flirty, which felt more like a mask than an expression of who you were.

Angel’s Concern, only started more.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting stream, Angel found you staring blankly at your screen. Your heart raced from the effort it took to maintain the KAngel facade, and she could see it etched on your face.

“Hey,” she said softly, settling next to you on the couch. “How are you holding up? You look… really worn out.”

You shrugged, forcing a smile. “I’m fine, Angel! Just a bit tired from all the streaming. P-Chan’s got a lot planned for the next few weeks.”

Her brow furrowed, concern deepening. “But it seems like he’s been pushing you too hard. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your well-being for views.”

You felt a flicker of irritation, defensiveness bubbling up. “I’m fine! I can handle it. I want to make people happy. KAngel is a part of me!”

Angel’s expression softened, and she leaned closer. “But are you happy? I see you slipping back into your old self. You were doing so well. I just want you to be okay.”

Despite her gentle approach, the pressure was getting to you. The more you pretended to be KAngel, the more you felt the real you—fading away. The facade was starting to wear thin, and you could feel your sanity fraying at the edges.

“I just have to keep up with P-Chan’s demands. It’s fine, really.” You couldn’t hide the tremor in your voice.

Angel frowned, sensing your distress. “This isn’t fine, and you know it. I want to be there for you. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Just then, a notification pinged on your phone—a new message from P-Chan outlining an even more demanding streaming schedule. It made your heart sink, and you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest.

“See? It’s fine. I can handle it.” But even you could hear the false bravado in your voice.

The following week, P-Chan continued to ramp up the pressure, pushing you to keep up the KAngel persona for your streams. He had a vision for your channel—a vision that didn’t include any room for your mental well-being.

“Listen, ,” he said one day, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as he reviewed the last stream’s metrics. “The viewers love the KAngel persona. But you know they’re getting a bit disappointed with the way you’ve been acting lately. They want the bubbly, flirty girl, not this… whatever it is you’ve been doing.”

You felt your stomach twist at his words, the pressure building like a volcano ready to erupt. “I’m trying! It’s just been a lot lately, and—”

“Just keep it up,” he interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “You need to give the people what they want. That’s how you’ll get your fame back! More engagement equals more views! Just remember, we’re in this together.”

The next stream, you felt like you were walking a tightrope, balancing on the edge of sanity. As the camera turned on and you slipped into the familiar persona of KAngel, a wave of exhaustion washed over you. You forced a smile, and your heart raced with anxiety.

“Hey, everyone! It’s your favorite KAngel! Ready to have some fun today?” you chirped, but the words felt hollow, echoing in the emptiness of your heart.

As the chat filled with excitement, you tried to keep up with their energy, but your mind felt hazy, like you were trying to run through thick mud.

“Let’s get started with some challenges today! I know you love them!” you announced, but the enthusiasm didn’t reach your eyes.

Gradually, the facade began to crack. You stumbled over your words, your focus wavering as you lost sight of the chat. “I—uh… I think we should do something fun… right?”

The viewers’ reactions began to shift, disappointment seeping through the comments like a poison. “What’s wrong with her?” “This isn’t the KAngel we know!” “Is she okay?”

Each comment felt like a dagger to your heart, intensifying the panic that gripped you. You felt a wave of frustration boil within you, your breathing becoming uneven.

“Damn it!” you suddenly yelled, the words bursting forth without warning. “Damn everything! I can’t keep doing this!”

The chat erupted, confusion and concern flooding the comments, but you barely registered it. All you could see was P-Chan’s face, his expression shifting from excitement to something darker.

“Keep it together!” he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper, but the urgency fell on deaf ears.

Your vision blurred, and you felt the walls closing in. “I can’t… I can’t focus! Just leave me alone!” You slumped down in your chair, overwhelmed by the cacophony of voices in your head and the relentless expectations weighing down on you.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you broke down live on camera, the mask slipping away completely. “I don’t want to be KAngel anymore! I just want to be me!”

The stream continued to roll, the viewers stunned into silence as your breakdown unfolded before them. The reality of your struggle was laid bare for everyone to see.

When you looked at P-Chan, his expression had transformed. Instead of concern, there was a chilling smile spreading across his face. “You did good, Y/n” he said, his tone almost mocking. “This is exactly what the viewers love. This raw emotion? It’ll make you more famous than ever!”

His words twisted inside you, and a dark realization settled in. It was as if you had been playing into his hands, the puppet of his desires. The psychotic glint in your eyes matched the manic edge of your laughter as you processed his twisted encouragement.

“Famous?” you repeated, your voice hollow. “You think this is what they want?”

“Absolutely,” P-Chan replied, a calculating gleam in his eyes. “Keep it up, and we’ll get back to the top in no time.”

In that moment, the fear transformed into a blend of anger and despair. You felt like you were spiraling deeper into the abyss, and all the while, P-Chan watched, unfazed by your suffering.

The stream ended, leaving behind a stunned silence. You stared blankly at the screen, the chat continuing to scroll with a mixture of support and confusion. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet somehow twistedly empowered by the chaos.

As the realization of your breakdown hit you like a tidal wave, you whispered, “What have I become?”

Angel rushed in, her eyes wide with concern. “Ame! I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help you through this.”

You turned to her, a wild look in your eyes. “Help me? I don’t even know who I am anymore, Angel! But! It's okay..Go home now.”

The day started as a struggle. You woke up sluggish, your mind weighed down by the relentless negativity you felt everywhere you turned. After dragging yourself out of bed, you grabbed your phone and sent a quick text to P-Chan:

Y/n: Hey, I’ve been feeling really sluggish and crabby lately. Not sure what’s going on.

No reply came right away, but you didn’t want to wait for him. You opened Twitter and typed your name into the search bar. A pit formed in your stomach as the hate flooded in.

“Ugh, just ignore it,” you muttered to yourself, trying to shake off the sick feeling creeping into your chest. But it was hard to ignore when the insults were so personal.

You decided to vent on your private Twitter account.

Y/n: Why is it that I’m getting more hate than usual? I can’t even open my mentions without feeling like trash.

You felt the familiar weight of anger rise within you, a fire ignited by the cruel words of strangers. After venting, you decided to post on your KAngel account to reassure your fans:

KAngel: Something got me a little shaken up, but don’t worry! I’ll keep going! 💖

You hoped the sweet emojis would soften the blow, but within seconds, the comments began to flood in—annoying replies, mocking you, turning your heart into a stone.

You couldn’t help it; you sent another text to P-Chan, your frustration spilling over.

Y/n: This is bothering me so much. I’m really going through it lately.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally replied.

P-Chan: You just need to push through, Y/n. The audience loves the drama!

When the stream began, you plastered on the usual KAngel smile, channeling a different version of yourself, one that was strong, bubbly, and full of light.

“Hey, everyone! It’s your KAngel! Let’s have some fun!” you cheered, but it felt forced, an act that barely masked the turmoil underneath.

As the minutes passed, the comments started to come in thick and fast—snide remarks, critiques of your performance. Your heart raced, and the anger you had suppressed boiled over.

“What is wrong with you guys? Can’t you see I’m trying?” you snapped, the crack in your facade widening. The laughter that usually bubbled up felt more like a scream, and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes.

“Just shut up!” you yelled, the words erupting out of you like a volcano. Your vision blurred, the chat filled with an echo of harsh laughter, and suddenly, you couldn’t take it anymore.

With no warning, you vomited on the webcam, the bile rising as humiliation washed over you. The stream ended abruptly, leaving your viewers in stunned silence.

You slumped in your chair, your heart racing, your head spinning with confusion and shame. P-Chan leaned in with a twisted smile on his face.

“You did good, Y/n,” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm. “This will make you more famous than ever.”

Your stomach churned with rage and disbelief. “Is this what you wanted?” you spat, tears of frustration spilling down your cheeks.

The shame felt heavy, but you were too exhausted to care. You wanted to disappear.

The next morning was no better. You woke up feeling worse, the weight of your previous day hanging over you like a dark cloud. Vanity searching again, your heart sank as you saw the hate had doubled, people mocking you, making fun of your breakdown.

You felt sick, the bitterness and pain rising in your throat. You couldn’t shake the thought, What if I just… didn’t exist anymore?

But deep down, the drive to keep working and regain your standing clawed at you. You opened your KAngel account and tweeted:

KAngel: Sorry for the stream yesterday! It was a lot, but I’m back and better than ever! 💖

The replies were a mix of concern and ridicule, with some even demanding to see you vomit again. It sickened you, but a twisted part of you felt a sense of power in their interest.

You decided to go live again, channeling your energy into a stream titled “On Angels.” You added a blueish filter, making everything feel surreal.

At first, everything seemed okay. You laughed, interacted, and kept the mood light, but the moment the mean comments rolled in, the laughter faded, replaced by tears.

“You don’t know anything about me!” you screamed, lashing out as the pain bubbled over. The comments turned even more vicious, and you felt like you were drowning.

“I’ll quit streaming!” you shouted, feeling the bile rise again. “I can’t do this anymore!”

Before you knew it, you vomited on the webcam once more, the world spinning as the stream ended abruptly, leaving only the sound of your sobs behind.

The next day was worse. You woke up, feeling like a ghost, devoid of any energy. You vanity searched again, and the results were worse than before.

A ton of windows filled with slander and mockery popped up in front of you, your heart racing as you clicked through the endless hate. One window caught your attention:

DIE

Against your better judgment, you clicked it, and suddenly a flurry of windows appeared, each one showcasing pills labeled “Dylsem.” Your stomach twisted in fear and curiosity, but your hands moved almost on instinct as the screen morphed into a self-harm minigame.

Unlike the actual game, you had no control over the events unfolding. The sequence felt like it was happening in slow motion as you transformed. The glitches twisted your image until you were unrecognizable, almost monstrous.

The stream began, titled simply “DIE.”

You appeared on screen, laughter escaping your lips that sounded foreign, manic, and desperate. “You think you can break me? You have no idea what I’m capable of!”

As you threatened your viewers, the screen filled with a flood of floating eyes, watching, judging, taunting. The laughter turned to sobs, spiraling into a full-blown breakdown.

“I’ll quit! You’ll never see me again!” you shouted, your heart racing as the darkness enveloped you.

The stream ended abruptly, leaving only a black screen filled with the haunting words that repeated over and over:

DIE. DIE. DIE.

The aftermath of your stream left you breathless and shaken, your heart pounding as the room felt like it was closing in on you. You stared blankly at the screen, the haunting words “DIE. DIE. DIE.” echoing in your mind. Your breath quickened, and tears streamed down your face, hot and unrelenting.

“I can’t do this anymore!” you cried, your voice breaking as the weight of it all crashed down on you. “I don’t want to act like this! I don’t want to be KAngel!”

You felt a surge of anger boiling in your veins, directed at the very person who was supposed to support you—P-Chan. You could hear him laughing softly in the background, that condescending tone grating on your nerves.

“It’s all part of the show, Ame. You know that,” he said, but his words only fueled the fire inside you.

“Shut up!” you screamed, your voice cracking as you shot up from your chair, the energy surging through you like a lightning bolt. In a burst of rage, you pushed him away, the fury blinding you to the consequences.

P-Chan stumbled back but quickly regained his footing, his eyes narrowing with a mix of surprise and anger. “What’s your problem?” he snapped, advancing toward you.

“You! You’re the problem!” you shouted, feeling the rage boiling over. You couldn’t contain it anymore. You felt like you were losing control, the weight of all the hate, all the expectations, crashing down around you.

In a wild rush, he shoved you back, and you lost your balance, hitting your head against the edge of the desk. Pain shot through you, but it only fueled your rage. You leaped up, eyes wild, and grabbed the chair, your grip tight as you lifted it above your head.

“DIE! DIE! DIE!” you screamed, the words echoing off the walls as you brought the chair down onto P-Chan, the sound of wood crashing against flesh ringing in your ears.

He grunted, eyes wide with shock as he stumbled back, trying to shield himself from your furious assault. You swung again, the chair connecting with his body as he fell to the floor, breathless and dazed.

“Why are you doing this?” he gasped, trying to catch his breath, but the look in his eyes made you realize he was frightened.

“I don’t want to be your puppet!” you shouted, lifting the chair again, your voice hoarse and raw. “You think this is funny? You’re destroying me!”

Each blow sent a wave of catharsis through you, the pain of the world washing away with every strike. But it was short-lived; P-Chan, weakened from your attack, managed to grab your wrist, stopping your next swing.

“Stop! You’re going too far!” he yelled, his voice strained.

In that moment, reality hit you like a brick wall. You paused, breath heavy and ragged, your heart racing as the adrenaline coursed through you.

He was on the ground, and you stood over him, chair in hand, panting heavily. You blinked, the haze of anger starting to clear, replaced by confusion and regret.

“What have I done?” you whispered, the chair slipping from your fingers and clattering to the ground.

You opened your KAngel account, the familiar rush of anxiety fluttering in your chest as you typed out a manic tweet: "Tonight’s stream is gonna be wild! Don’t miss it, lovelies! 💖✨🦋"

You hit send, a wave of anticipation washed over you, mingled with dread. The distorted, playful background music filled the room as you transformed with the magic paper filter, your appearance shifting into a whimsical, yet unsettling rendition of KAngel. The vibrant colors clashed with the eerie vibes radiating from you. You tried to smile, but the grin felt more like a grimace.

The Stream Begins

“Welcome back, my wonderful viewers!” you chirped, trying to mask the turmoil within you. “Tonight, we’re diving into something super special: the ‘Diagram of the Body’! Isn’t that exciting?”

The music twisted and warped, creating a surreal atmosphere that matched the chaotic energy surging through your veins. Your eyes flickered around the room, taking in the scattered remnants of your latest projects, the once-innocent walls now stained with splatters of red—a haunting backdrop that seemed to pulse with life.

“You know, I had a pet fish once,” you began, your tone shifting from bubbly to strangely contemplative. “I named him Fluffy. I took such good care of him! But he still died… despite my best efforts.”

A strange laughter bubbled up, mixing with the music, and you continued rambling, trying to fill the silence that clawed at you. “It’s funny, isn’t it? You try so hard, but sometimes it just doesn’t matter.”

You could feel the disconnect between your voice and the words spilling out, as if you were just a vessel for the chaos within. The screen flickered, cutting to a void-like background where a poem appeared, words flowing like blood on the wall behind you:

"In a world of shapes and lines, The body speaks in silent cries. Efforts wasted, lives confined, A diagram drawn in whispered lies."

As the poem faded, a flash of text suddenly took over the screen: “HELP ME.”

You froze, heart racing, the weight of those words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. But instead of addressing the dread creeping in, you pushed it aside. “Being this idiotic nyah girl is just… scary, okay? I don’t wanna be this! But you idiots won’t understand, will you?”

Your voice trembled as you continued, frustration bubbling over. “All of you, with your stupid comments and demands, treating me like some tool for your entertainment! It’s disgusting! You think I’m just a plaything, an idol to mold into whatever you want!”

The distorted music echoed your feelings, amplifying the chaos in your mind as you started to spiral. “You’re all so idiotic! I’m not your little puppet!” you spat, anger spilling out, each word sharp and stinging. “This isn’t just a game! I’m a person! I’m not here to be used!”

You could feel the anger surging, and the stream became a cathartic release for everything bottled inside. “I don’t want to act like this! I’m more than your entertainment! I can’t be the cute little KAngel forever!”

The disgust you felt for the simps and the way they saw you as a tool welled up in your throat, and before you knew it, you were ready to cut the stream. “I’m done! If you can’t understand that, then screw you all!”

With that final thought hanging in the air, you slammed the end stream button, breathing heavily as the screen faded to black. You stared at the darkness, the silence of your room almost deafening after the chaotic outburst.

The distortion faded, but the weight of what you had just said lingered, filling the space with a tension that was hard to shake. The comments were already flooding in, a mix of concern and derision, but you didn’t care.

“You won’t get it,” you whispered to the empty room, your voice barely above a whisper. “You never will.”

The aftermath of your stream hung heavy in the air, the adrenaline still pulsing through your veins as you sank into the quiet of your room. Just as you tried to steady your breath, the door swung open, and in walked Angel, her face a mix of concern and urgency.

“Y/n,” she exclaimed, rushing towards you. Her arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you into a hug that felt both comforting and grounding. But as she pulled back, her gaze dropped to the floor, and her eyes widened at the sight of the blood smeared against the wall.

“Y/n, is that…” Her voice trembled slightly, the realization dawning on her.

“It’s fine, Angel! It’s just a little…” You tried to wave it off, forcing a smile despite the fear coiling in your stomach. “Just a first aid issue, really.”

She narrowed her eyes, not convinced. “Did… did you kill P-Chan?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, a hint of shock lacing her voice.

You shook your head quickly, the panic rising again. “No! No, they just fainted! I got a bit... carried away.”

Angel’s expression softened, relief flooding her features. “Okay, good. But you’re hurt. Come on, let’s take care of you.” She grabbed your hand and led you toward the bathroom, her grip firm but gentle, grounding you in the chaos of the moment.

Once in the bathroom, Angel turned on the faucet, filling the tub with warm water as she gathered supplies. She moved with a certain grace, her focus entirely on you, and it brought a sense of calm that contrasted sharply with the storm in your mind.

“Hold still,” she instructed softly, grabbing a first aid kit and pulling out bandages and antiseptic. You watched as she worked, her brow furrowed in concentration, and it struck you how much she cared.

“I’m so sorry for everything, Angel,” you mumbled, feeling guilty for the mess you had created, both physically and emotionally.

“Don’t apologize,” she said firmly, dabbing a cloth against the cut on your arm. “You’ve been through a lot. And I won’t let P-Chan mess with you anymore. I'll let Ronin, take care...."

You glanced up at her, your heart aching with appreciation. “How... how did the Devil’s Butcher take care of them?” you asked hesitantly, not wanting to dwell on the darker aspects of the situation.

A faint smirk crossed Angel’s lips, a hint of mischief sparkling in her eyes. “Let’s just say Ronin has his ways. He knows how to deal with people who step out of line.”

You nodded, a chill of admiration running down your spine. “Tell Ronin I said thanks,” you murmured, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie in the chaos.

After tending to your wounds, Angel helped you out of the bathroom and into some fresh clothes. “How about we go on a little date?” she suggested, a warm smile breaking across her face. “Just you and me, away from all this... nonsense.”

Your heart swelled at the thought, the idea of spending time with her lifting your spirits. “I’d like that,” you replied softly, feeling a flicker of hope igniting within you.

The two of you spent the evening together, sharing laughter and stories over a makeshift dinner. As the lighthearted banter flowed, you felt a sense of normalcy wash over you, easing the lingering fears from the day.

But deep down, you knew that the struggles weren’t over. The shadows of your online life loomed large, threatening to encroach on your newfound peace. Yet, for now, you allowed yourself to lean into Angel’s warmth, cherishing the moment and the promise of support that she brought into your life.

The evening wore on, the atmosphere settled into a comfortable rhythm. The remnants of your earlier chaos faded into the background, leaving only the warm glow of the room and the soft sound of Angel’s laughter. You both sat on the couch, sharing bites of the snacks you’d prepared, when she suddenly grew quiet, her gaze drifting towards the window.

“Y/n,” she said softly, breaking the comfortable silence, “do you remember when I... killed him?” The mention of her manager hung in the air, a reminder of the dark path she had walked to reclaim her power.

You nodded, the memory fresh in your mind. The way she had transformed that night, fierce and unyielding, stayed etched in your thoughts. “You were so strong. I was scared for you, I didn't want to leave you tho, but I knew you had to do what you did.”

Angel turned to you, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “You cared about me, even when I was a mess. You sat beside me, helped me in the bath... I never forgot that. It meant the world to me.”

Your heart swelled at her words. You had always wanted to support her, to be there in her moments of darkness, just as she had been there for you.

“I wanted to make sure you knew I was there for you, always,” you replied, sincerity lacing your tone.

She smiled, a warm, radiant smile that seemed to light up the room. “And that’s why I want to do the same for you. I love you, Y/n. I love you—it's fun! You bring out this side of me that feels... alive.”

She spoke, you felt the heaviness in your chest begin to lift. It was freeing to embrace the messiness of life, to be together in this chaotic whirlwind.

“I love you too, Angel,” you said, a grin spreading across your face. “Being a loser with you is the best.”

#killer chat x reader #killer chat ronin #killer chat vn #killerchat #killer chat angel #killer chat angel x reader #angel x reader #angel killer chat #killer chat #Maria de la rosa

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fortune-fool02 · 2 years ago

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A False Belief

Las Plagas Luis Serra x female reader

Summary: Despite what Luis believed, he was not purged of the infection. And all that borrowed time had reached its limit.

Warning: Spoilers for RE 4 Remake. Light angst. Blood. Rough-kissing. Plagas Luis being dark. Emotional manipulation. Potential yandere-themes? Oral-pleasure, reader receiving.

This came to my mind and I don’t know why but I need to see this precious man become a monster. I haven’t seen any content even hinting to Luis being dark so I decided to do it myself.

Please enjoy.

One, two, three, in. One, two, three, out. One, two, three, in. One, two, three, out. This sequence repeated in her head slowly, methodically, as she inhaled and exhaled to its instruction, trying to calm her rushing nerves. A coldness coiled along her bones, tightening her veins like springs, making everything feel so ridged and tense.

The only sound that could be heard was the metal clinking of that lighter, flickering and spinning between his fingers with ease. A flame sparking every now and again before being snuffed out and returning to the spinning rotation. Fingers that held such a loving touch before, a soothing warmth that seemed to steal away pain and worries, filling their space with a comfort. A silent promise that no harm would come to her. Now, those fingers were cold, hard and hollow. Their mere touch enough to make her skin crawl and try to recoil back, only to earn a tight grip, keeping her in place.

Wherever Leon was, [Name] prayed both he and Ashley were safe, that they were able to find some form of cure for themselves. For Luis. It was something none of them expected, not even the Spaniard himself. Having believed to have purged himself of the Las Plagas parasite, Luis had offered to aid them to find Ashley and rid themselves of the parasite. Though, that plan turned South once he began to act strangely. The signs were there but they were too busy with other priorities. Perhaps if they noticed it sooner, they could have helped him?

That image was still burned into her mind. That small, brief moment of fear in Luis’ eyes when the blood spilled past his lips and he looked at her, splinters of crimson red piercing his smoke grey eyes. Those thin, black veins breaking across his face. In that moment, the Luis she knew died, and this..., this thing was what remained in place.

“Oh querida.” He called out, pushing himself up from his spot on the worn couch, moving over to her lightly trembling form on the floor, an almost pitiful look on his face as his red eyes glanced at the bear trap latched onto her leg. The blood had started to dry and coagulate on her leg, the small puddle that had gathered beneath staining the wooden flooring. Luis knelt in front of her, one arm propped onto his knee to hold his chin up as he looked at her. Amusement swirled in those eyes and it sickened her.

“What am I going to do with you, eh?” He hummed, his thumb and finger gently grabbing her chin but she pulled away, leaning away from his touch entirely. Something flashed in those eyes and a sharp, stinging pain blossomed in her cheek, her head snapping to the side. “Don’t you dare-!” His own words were cut off as his voice softened, his expression twisting into something apologetic as he gently stroked her stinging cheek.

“I’m sorry, [Name]. Lo lamento.” Those words fell from his lips so softly that he almost seemed genuine. As much as she wanted to believe that, hold onto that hope that her Luis was still in there somewhere, fighting to try and get out.

“No, you’re not.” She spoke quietly, her eyes refusing to meet his own. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him like this. With a roll of his eyes, that mask slipped off entirely, leaving a bored expression in its place.

“It’s not my fault you thought it was a funny idea to run away, [Name].” He pulled a cigarette from his packet and lit it, the smoke seeping out from his lips towards her. [Name] held her breath, trying to fight to urge to cough. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of that.

“You could’ve unlocked the damn bear-trap.” The snap wasn’t intentional but the throbbing pain that pulsed in her leg was hard to ignore. His hand gripped her chin again, this time tighter, his nail digging into the skin on her chin, breaking it lightly and drawing little specks of blood.

“And let you run away again? Don’t be so silly.” His face was so close to hers, the scent of nicotine and his cologne filling her nose along with the underlying smell of blood. His lips brushed against hers, the smoke seeping into her lips and forcing her to pull away and cough, a dark smirk lifting his lips as he watched. Taking another deep inhale of his cigarette, Luis grabbed her hair tightly and forced his lips upon hers, pushing every bit of smoke from his mouth into hers.

The sharp, dryness spread all inside her mouth, scratching down her throat with rugged pricks, ripping hard coughs that burned slightly. A chuckle rumbled deep inside his chest at this, that smirk ever present. Pulling his hand back, he brought it up to his lips, his tongue lightly dragging along his thumb, lapping up the little specks of blood on his nail, a pleased moan spilling his lips as delight crossed his face.

“Oh Dios, you tasted delicious, my love.” He all but purred, a shiver running down his spine. [Name] tore her eyes away from him, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest at such words. The way that delighted look sparked something in her that she didn’t want. His tongue slowly moved along his lips, savouring her taste before he finished the cigarette and slowly pushed the end of it down on her leg, his eyes pinning her in place as he did so.

A pained cry left her lips, her leg trying to pull up and away from the searing pain piercing her leg. Burnt skin filling the air and Luis sighed at the smell, a dreamy smile on his face.

“I love that smell, querida. I love you. Every bit of you.” [Name] yanked her leg back and tried to kick at Luis’ face, the first strike landing its mark, a pained grunt heard from Luis. She reared her leg back again to kick once more only for him to catch her by the ankle, blood trickling down his nose as the broken feature began to heal itself, the forming bruise vanishing before it had a chance to even fully develop. His eyes darkened as he pulled her leg up and over his shoulder,

“Now that wasn’t nice of you.” He tutted, his grip on her leg tight as he moved himself between her legs, his eyes roaming her body from the new angle. A spark igniting in his eyes as his hands moved down towards her belt, unbuckling it quickly.

“No, Luis! No, please! I’m sorry!” Panic had set in, rushing through her system as she squirmed under his grip. As much as she loved Luis, she couldn’t let herself be touched by him like this.

“Don’t fret, cariño. I’m not going to do anything like that. Yet.” It took a few moments before he slid off her pants, letting them bundle at the bottom of the trapped leg, his gaze turning back to her as he placed her leg back over his shoulder again. His lips lightly brushing up along her skin, a soft hum sending goosebumps along her flesh. Warmth shimmered in her body, threatening to spill down into her gut at his careful movement. Little kisses were placed on her thigh, his teeth finding a spot and biting down, suckling at the tender flesh.

Soft gasps escaped her, despite her best efforts to keep them back. The light scratchy sensation of his stubble only added to the feeling, sending a tingling warmth through her body, arousal threatening to seep in.

“L-Luis...” His name spilled past along with another gasps as he pulled back and moved along her thigh more, leaving more little marks and nips in his wake.

“See? I can make you feel good, [Name].” His voice was lower, huskier, almost a hushed, teasing whisper as she felt him move closer and closer to her core. Her eyes locked on the ceiling, unable to look down at him, knowing doing so wouldn’t help in anyway. “Say you’re mine~”

The feeling of her underwear slowly sliding down her thighs brought a shiver raking down her spine, a light chill brushing past her followed by the warm feeling of his tongue gently moving along her core, pulling a moan from her. She could hear Luis moan as he pushed himself closer to her, his tongue exploring slowly, savouring every second of her, as his hands on her thighs slowly tightened their grip.

“Who else can make you feel this good?” He purred between breaths, each little movement of his tongue spending a shard of arousal up through her, her body wanting more, wanting him. “Surely not that Yaqui. No, he couldn’t come close to how good I can make you feel, [Name]~” His lips pressed against her clit, kissing it lightly then slowly circled his tongue around it, making her arch her back and moan in pleasure. Her thighs shook lightly, pressing together against the sides of Luis’ head, earning a pleased groan from the man as he pulled his tongue back.

“Good girl~”

#luis sera #luis serra #luis sera x reader #luis serra x reader #luis serra navarro #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #yandere luis sera #yandere luis serra #infected luis serra #infected luis sera #plaga luis sera #plaga luis serra #yandere luis serra x reader #yandere luis sera x reader #yandere resident evil

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goldenempyrean · 1 year ago

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I am Supergirl

〚 Notes- Okay so this was just a small lil idea I had, not much else to say really :P I wrote this before the poll so anyone who voted Kara enjoy :D 〛

〚 Pairing - Kara Danvers x Reader (+ Platonic Lena) 〛

〚 Summary - After solar flaring, Kara catches the flu but in true fashion goes to work feverish and delirious - much to the disbelief of her boss.〛

〚 Wordcount- 1745 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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It was a brisk morning in National City, and the aftermath of the previous day's epic battle were still evident. Kara had fought tirelessly against a formidable alien threat, leading to an intense solar flare. She had been drained completely of her Kyrptonian abilities.

Ignoring her pounding headache and the chills that racked her body, Kara dragged herself out of bed and donned herself in a thick jumper and pants. She hoped that the outfit would help warm her up a little, but as she looked in the mirror, she couldn't help but notice the paleness of her usually vibrant face.

Taking the bus was the worse decision she could’ve made. It was awful. Everything seemed to swirl and spin around her. Not only that the clammy atmosphere and cramped seats made her feel as if she was being boiled – wearing this jumper was definitely not a good idea.

As the bus finally arrived at CatCo Worldwide Media, Kara stumbled off, feeling more disoriented than ever. She clutched her bag tightly and forced a weak smile as she entered the building. The fluorescent lights seemed extra bright, and the noise of the bustling office felt like an assault on her senses. She desperately tried to push through the fatigue and make her way to Lena’s office to get her morning debriefing.

Kara sneezed; the sound amplified by the quiet surroundings as everyone turned to look. Her weakened muscles couldn't keep her fully balanced, and she swayed dangerously. Instinctively, she reached out to steady herself against the nearest wall, but her fingers only grazed the surface before she lost her balance completely.

“Kara? Kara!” Lena yelled seeing the blonde physically stumble into a reporter's desk, rubbing at her nose with her sleeve and mumbling something under breath.

“Kara, what on earth are you doing?” The Luthor asked, she reached out to pull her into her office but as Lena’s hand met Kara’s skin her eyes widened in concern at the blazing heat radiating from her.

“Mmmh ‘ere to work.” She slurred, “‘s got a job to do.”

Lena practically carried Kara into her office where she sat her down on the sofa, placing her hand gently on her forehead, “Shit Kara, you’re really burning up. Why on earth would you come in with a fever like this, never mind better question, how did you get here like this?” 

Her mind was racing with the million dangerous things that could’ve happened to her. Kara was the first ever real friend she’d had and something like this filled her with worry.

“Mmh’ took ‘s bus”. Kara mumbled before breaking off into a chesty sounding cough, curling further in on herself.

Lena was kneeling down at her side with some water in an instant, “Honey you need to drink this,” she instructed, holding the glass to her lips as she supported the back of the blonde’s head, helping her drink, “I’m gonna call Y/N, alright? They’ll come pick you up. In the meantime, you’re going to sleep. I’ve never seen you like this.”

Kara shivered, chills running down her exposed arms, “I am?”

“Yes. You are, stay here and I’ll go get you a blanket from storage.” Lena sighed before hurriedly going off towards storage.

Despite Lena's best efforts to convince Kara to rest and take care of herself, the stubborn Kryptonian journalist was having none of it. As soon as Lena left to get a blanket, Kara attempted to get up from the sofa, but her weakened state caused her to stumble - it was by some sheer stroke of luck that she managed to stay upright.

“Excuse me?” A sudden stern voice stopped her in her tracks, “Kara what the hell are you doing up?” Lena sighed, leading the mumbling girl back to the sofa, instructing her to lay down before draping a soft grey blanket over her.

Kara's eyes drifted closed as exhaustion weighed heavily on her. "But I hav’ responsibilities..."

"You're no good to anyone if you push yourself to the point of collapse," Lena insisted firmly. "Trust me, the world can wait. Right now, you need to prioritise your health."

Kara groaned weakly, her eyes half-lidded as she mumbled, "Can't rest... people... need Supergirl."

Lena furrowed her brows in concern, just how delirious was this girl, "Supergirl can handle things. Right now, you need to focus on getting better. You can trust her to take care of the city."

"Nooo... I am Supergirl," Kara murmured, her voice barely audible as she coughed again.

Lena's eyes widened, and she leaned in closer, thinking she must have misheard. "What did you say?"

"I'm Supergirl," Kara repeated, her words clearer this time, though her eyes were still unfocused, “Its’s me.”

Lena couldn't help but let out a small, disbelieving laugh. "Kara, you're just delirious from the fever honey. It's okay. I know you're dedicated to your job, but you don't have to pretend to be Supergirl right now."

Kara's brow furrowed, and she weakly protested, "No, I mean it. I'm Supergirl... I've always been Supergirl. I can fly like woosh.” She made the motion with her hand which apparently was a bad idea and she groaned in response.

Lena sighed, deciding to play along with Kara's delusion to keep her calm. "Alright, alright. Of course, you’re Supergirl. Now, close your eyes and get some rest, okay?” Boy, was she going to tease her about this once she was feeling better.

As Kara drifted in and out of consciousness, Lena kept a watchful eye on her, making sure she stayed as comfortable as possible. She grabbed her phone and dialled a number she knew by heart, putting the phone on speaker so she could tend to Kara while waiting for the call to connect.

After a few rings, a familiar voice answered, "Hey, Lena, what's up?"

"Y/N, it's Kara. She's really sick," Lena replied, concern evident in her voice.

"Oh no, is she okay?" You asked, immediately picking up on Lena's worried tone. You didn’t hear it often so when you didn’t you knew it was serious.

"She’s got a pretty high fever, and she's delirious, probably the flu I think. Can you come to CatCo and take her home? I'm really worried about her," Lena explained, glancing at Kara, who was still half-conscious on the sofa.

"Of course, I'll be right there," You replied reassuringly, as you searched your pockets for your car keys, "Tell her I'm on my way."

You rushed to CatCo , worrying about Kara's condition. When you arrived, you found Lena sitting next to Kara, who was wrapped in a blanket and looking awfully pale. Lena looked relieved to see you and quickly filled you in on what had happened there.

"She's been insisting she's Supergirl," Lena whispered to you, a hint of amusement in her voice, "I think it's just the fever talking, but she's really out of it."

You gave Kara a gentle smile and stroked her hair as you tried to hide the flicker of worry. Kara never told anyone about Supergirl, you’d been there countless times when hiding the truth became too much so to hear she’d finally said it in her feverish delirium, well that worried you a little. At least Lena didn’t seem to buy it. "Hey, Supergirl, I'm here to take you home. Let's get you out of here and into bed, okay?"

Kara weakly smiled back at you, her eyes still unfocused, "Y/N?”

"It’s me sweetheart," you replied, trying to keep your voice light to put her at ease. "You should’ve told me this morning you were sick; you should’ve stayed home love.”

You carefully helped Kara stand up, supporting her with your arm around her waist as she swayed slightly. Lena followed closely; concern etched on her face. With your help, you managed to get Kara outside and into your car, laying her down in the backseat.

As you drove back to her apartment, Kara drifted in and out of consciousness, occasionally muttering something about saving people and protecting the city. You kept as close as an eye possible on her in the rearview mirror, making sure she was okay as you quickly got her home.

As soon as you reached Kara's apartment, you carefully carried her inside, laying her down on her bed. Lena followed behind, offering her assistance. Together, you made sure Kara was comfortable and tucked her in under the covers. The apartment was cooler than CatCo, which was a relief to the very clammy Kara.

Her fevered mind seemed to latch onto your comforting presence as she reached out to grab your hand before you could leave, “Stay?”

"Of course, I will baby." you replied, feeling a mix of worry and tenderness for the woman lying in front of you. You had seen her as Supergirl, strong and confident, but seeing her vulnerable like this was a reminder that in some ways she was just as human as you were. You climbed onto the bed and settled down beside her, making sure to keep a safe distance so she wouldn't feel overheated. "Just rest, and I'll be here if you need anything."

Kara shifted slightly closer to you, seeking your warmth and comfort. She curled up against your side, resting her head on your shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered, "You always take care of me."

"You're welcome, Kara," you replied softly, gently rubbing her back to soothe her. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

As Kara nuzzled against you, seeking solace in your presence, she let out a small, involuntary sneeze. The sound was muffled by your chest, and you could feel her body shivering with chills. You pulled the covers up to her shoulders, ensuring she was snug and warm.

"Sorry," Kara sniffled, sounding apologetic, "I can't seem to stop sneezing."

"It's okay, don't worry about it," you reassured her, running your fingers through her hair. "Just focus on resting and getting better. I'll take care of you."

Kara's eyes fluttered closed, and she let out a tired sigh. "You're the best," she whispered, her words slurring slightly from exhaustion.��

“You’re the best too but maybe we can work on staying home when we’re sick and not spilling your secret to everyone?” You teased whilst rubbing her back sweetly.

Kara managed a weak chuckle, her eyes still closed. "Yeah, maybe I should work on that." she mumbled, her voice growing fainter as she drifted closer to sleep.

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#kara danvers x reader #kara danvers #kara zor el #kara danvers x y/n #supergirl #lena luthor #supergirl sickfic #sickfic #fluff #comfort #kara danvers sickfic

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lexical-lushes · 1 year ago

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Heartbeats

I try to gasp, but my Maker’s talons are wrapped tight around my throat, blackened digits cutting off my air supply in an effortless show of strength.

“Shh, shh, not a sound,” she reminds me, and even as my chest begins to slowly burn with the false-need she wove into my vessel I nod, shudder, roll my hips up to meet hers – the painful lacking is blissful in it’s own way, and she rewards my enthusiasm with a squeeze and as she presses forwards inside me.

I worry, dimly, that she’ll break something, but my Maker knows her handiwork better than that. I’ll not break unless she wants me to.

My vision begins to blur and fade around the edges, but I don’t care – her eyes are looking down into mine, so close, so all-consuming, amber framed by her jet-black feathered hair like fires in the night.

A thumb slips into my mouth, sharp against my tongue, and I welcome it with all the eagerness I have even as it drags across my sensitive flesh.

Still fading. Perhaps once I would have heard my heartbeat, heard my throbbing pulse in my ears.

All I can hear now is my own metronome. Tick, tick, tick, tick...

...and then, just as I feel my strings tensing to their breaking point, as I begin to black out and lose contact with my vessel, her grip loosens. My greedy gasp for air is stifled by her lips, pressing forwards, kissing me oh-so-deeply while she grinds forwards within me as forcefully as she can...

I tense. I shudder. I arch myself beneath her, pushed past my limits.

My head is spinning when she finally pulls away, inky drool trailing between her lips and mine.

“Good doll. Quiet and Still.”

The cool night air flowing in through my mistress’ bedroom window only makes me more aware of how furiously I’m blushing, and I bring one trembling hand up to hide my face, peeking through delicate fingers to watch her as she settles comfortably beside me.

It fascinates me how alike we are. Pale bodies of false-flesh porcelain, ball-joints and seams that trace around our sculpted forms; my violet phylactery set low into the ornate metal collar around my neck, her amber one surrounded by a dark, spidery, flowing pattern inked into her ceramic.

It’s only towards her extremities that her nature blurs, becomes made less in the image of a human, is stained and blackened and sharp.

She turns her head to catch me peeking, a wry smile upon her dark lips. I turn away, embarrassed.

“Such a shy and pretty doll,” she murmurs, reaching out to stroke my silver hair, her talons running through it, gently breaking up the tangles that had accumulated as I’d writhed and moaned in her bed.

I know, deep in my soul, that she means it. The words have power.

She finds each and every one of us beautiful.

I wonder at how lucky I am to have found such a wonderful Witch to be my Maker, to sign away my soul to. I think, perhaps, that she treats us all so sweetly because she knows what it’s like to be one of us, to desire so deeply to cast off our human forms and become a thing beyond that. What pacts did she make, when she began?

Her fingers gently stroke across my cheek, still flushed and warm, and the sharp little points of her talons trace paths against my porcelain skin. I lean in, nuzzling against her hand, feeling its artificiality click faintly against my own.

She moves to pull away, but I bring my own hand up to gently grab her, to hold her close and linger in the moment. She obliges me.

Where my fingers wrap around her slender wrist I feel a heartbeat, her pulse strong and true, and I wonder at what fills her if not clockwork like my own.

#lushposting #empty spaces

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orcasoul · 1 year ago

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Remember Cyar'ika Part 1

Okay here goes. This is my first fanfic ever. I'm by no means a writer but hopefully someone will enjoy this Din Djarin story...

Summery: Reader and Din are in a relationship and have been tracking bounties together. She gets injured during a hunt and has amnesia and can't remember her life with Din. Din promises to be there for her no matter what.

Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, use of Y/N

Italics indicate inward thinking

Word Count: 3,620

You slowly open your eyes but everything is hazy. The intense ringing in your ears is accompanied by the sounds of blaster fire. Realising you're face down you lift your head only to be greeted by a blinding pain shooting from the back of your skull to your forehead and slowly everything turns black. You open your eyes again, this time to a bright and airy room. It takes a minute for the blurry vision to subside and to be able to focus. Your limbs ache like you've never felt before and your head feels like it's been stood on by a Bantha. The soft beeping of a monitor and the smell of disinfectant tells you that you're safe in a medcentre. "Cyar'ika?" You slowly turn your head to where the voice is coming from. "I thought I'd lost you." The voice is raw with emotion which only added to your confusion as to why this strange, black T-shaped visor is hovering over you. Maybe he's a doctor? But why would a doctor be on the verge of breaking down? No, this man is clearly concerned about you.

The longer you study the visor the more you begin to panic. Am I supposed to know this man who clearly knows me? All you know is he is a Mandalorian as evident by his Beskar armour. He gently raises a gloved hand to caress your cheek but you instinctively flinch away from such an intimate touch from a complete stranger. As you do his hand stops mid reach and you see his shoulders tense as he clearly wasn't expecting such a reaction. "Wh... what's wrong, Cyar'ika? It's okay, you're safe now. I'm here." You reply with stunned silence and confusion, unable to process what is happening and you begin to hyperventilate After a few seconds the Beskar clad man tries to calm you. "Y/N, you're in a medcentre. You're going to be okay, just breath, slowly." He begins to breath in and out slowly to encourage you to copy him. After calming your breathing to a steady rhythm you notice his hands gently holding your shoulders and again, you feel the need for personal space and shuffle away from his hands.

The hurt and confusion is evident from this man, even with a helmet covering his face. "Wh... who are you? What are you doing in here?" "What?" his tone becomes almost frantic. "What do you mean?! Do... do you know who I am?" Looking at him wide eyed, you shake your head no. "Am I supposed to know you?" "Y/N it's Din!" "Who...?" The panic intensifies. "What's going on? I don't know you. How did I get here?" The panic becomes too much and you start to feel light headed as your hearts pounds in your chest. The low hiss of his helmet fills the room as he quickly takes it off and fixes you with a concerned gaze, unable to speak and clearly stunned by your reaction to him. As you look into his deep brown eyes you notice his expression changes from confusion to heartbreak as he realises the gravity of the situation. "I'm going to get the medic, I'll be right back."

He puts his helmet back on, turns on his heel and swiftly leaves the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts, trying to piece together the events that led to this moment. But you can't remember anything and again confusion leads to panic. You try to sit up but the room begins to spin and you find yourself clutching at the back of your head where you can feel bandages and slight swelling. It's at that moment the 'stranger' who doesn't act like a stranger returns with the medic. "Y/N I'm Doctor Tepu. You're at Gazno medical centre in Mos Eisly. You've sustained a serious head injury and we had to put you into an induced coma while waiting the swelling to go down. How are you feeling?" "I..." your breath catches in your chest and for a moment you're not sure how to answer. You want to say you're okay but you're not. You're terrified at this moment. "I Don't know..." you murmur in a weak and shaky voice.

"Some degree of confusion is expected at this time," the doctor states in a very matter of fact tone. "But as the swelling continues to decrease you'll find it easier to manage." "Doctor?..." you say wearily while eyeing the man beside him. "Who is this man and why does he say that he knows me?" The doctor glances between you and the Mandalorian, his face filled with concern. "You see! This isn't normal. You didn't say anything like this could happen." The Mandalorian's voice is desperate now. "She doesn't remember me!" The doctor calmly insists they talk outside your room while you get some rest. Such an impossible fear right now, you realise as you quietly cry into your palms that are now covering your face. Between deep, shuddering breathes you hear fragments of their conversation. "Brain injuries are very complex. This could just be temporary while she recovers." "And it it's not?! You need to do something, help her, please!" he shamelessly begs the doctor. The Doctor gives him a sympathetic look. "We're waiting on the results from her latest scan and we'll go from there."

Slowly the door opens and your attention is brought back to the Mandalorian. As he slowly sits down beside the bed and removes his helmet you can't help but stare, shock and fear still written all over your face. "I need you to tell me everything because I can't remember a fucking thing!" Frustration threatens to burst out of you in tears yet again. The sombre looking man takes a deep breath. "I'm a bounty hunter. My name is Din Djarin. We've been working together for the past six months collecting quarries. The last one went... wrong, and you got seriously injured. You're lucky I got you here when I did." He looked at you, hoping you'd start to remember but continued, "And we... uh..." he looked uncomfortable now, "We're together." Your eyebrows shot up at that revelation. "You mean like together, together?"

All He can din is offer a weak smile and a nod. Your head feels like it's going to explode! What the hell? How can I not remember a man I've been with for the last six months? This is all too much. "I'm sorry but... I don't know you," your voice cracks as you say it. You don't know what's worse; The fact you can't remember him, what you were to each other or the look of utter devastation across the face of a man who clearly cares deeply for you and you heart begins to break for him. Feeling completely overwhelmed by the situation you turn away form him and lie down, explaining that you need some time alone. His voice is clearly pained as he responds, "I'll come back later, once you've had time to rest."

Din feels a torrent of confusion, anger and heartbreak as he steps outside into the unrelenting heat of Tatooine's two sun's. He blames himself for what happened. If he'd gotten to you sooner then that Twi'lek wouldn't have had a chance to throw that grenade and for that he'll never forgive himself. He slammed his fist against the wall causing passers-by to stare at his outburst, while he was to consumed by grief to notice or even care. He recalls the doctor's words, this could be temporary, and he clings to that hope like it's his lifeline. "Dank Farrik!" he cursed in frustration. "I'm so sorry, Cyar'ika. I let this happen." He made a silent vow at that moment; to support you and look after you, no matter what. After returning to the Razor Crest to bring you some fresh clothes, he walks to the market to buy you some essentials for your stay in the medcentre.

Upon his return the medecentre Din is greeted by Doctor Tepu, who has the scan results. "Hi Y/N," the doctor greeted warmly as they both enter your room. "We've received your results and I'm sorry to say that the healing process has been slower than anticipated but you will make a full physical recovery in time. However, amnesia is very unpredictable and at this stage it's impossible to tell if it'll be permanent." You blink to hold back the the tears, feeling numb and exhausted. Din's heart aches for you and he suddenly feels angry with himself for failing to protect you. This is all your fault! He mentally berates himself. The doctor continues, "With rest and plenty of fluids you should be well enough to be discharged in a couple of days. I'll let you get some rest now." Din takes the seat next to your bed. "I'm so sorry, Cyare. I should have protected you. I failed you," his voice trembling, he reaches for your hand. Even though you don't know him you allow him to hold your hand, hoping it will provide some sort of comfort to him. "I'm going to do everything I can to help you through this, I promise," Din declares to you, determination in his voice.

Four Months Later

You wake to the ceiling of the bed chamber and the same hope rises in you as it has every morning since coming back to the Razor Crest. Hope that today something about the ship or something about Mando (as you've started calling him) might jog your memory. You didn't want to admit it to yourself but you have felt that hope slightly diminish over the past couple of weeks. Surely by now something should have seemed familiar but so far every day has been a frustrating disappointment. It's been hard for Din too. From the moment you returned to the Crest (as suggested by the doctor, who believed the best way to help the recovery process was to go back to your normal routine) Din has done everything possible to make things easier for you as you adjust. He even insisted you take the cot while he slept on a sleeping mat in the cargo bay.

You feel guilty even now, knowing you are on a soft bed while he has to endure the cold cargo bay on a less than adequate mat but no matter how many times you try to convince him to take the cot instead, you've learned by now that when his mind is made up, there's no changing it. After using the fresher you ascend the ladder to the cockpit where Din is busy plotting a course to the next bounty. "Good morning Mando," You say as you sit next to him in the co pilot seat.

Din once asked why you called him Mando, a hint of sadness in his voice. "Everyone we meet calls you Mando-" you begin, but are cut off, "Yes, but not you," he replied as though it should have been the most obvious thing. "I just think... it's probably for the best as I don't know you that well and..." you stop suddenly, realising what you had just said must have punched a hole through his heart, as his shoulders slumped and his helmet tilted down slightly. You knew even with the helmet on his expression is one of hurt and sorrow. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that-" you begin to ramble until Din delicately placed his hand over yours, the warmth of his skin seeping through his leather glove into your hand. In a soothing voice he said, "It's okay Y/N. If you want to call me Mando I understand. I don't want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable." You look into his inky black visor with teary eyes and nod gratefully.

"Did you sleep well?" He asks with a tilt of his helmet and a soft tone that instantly eased any anxiety you woke up with. "Yes, thank you," you smile at him, "But I wish for once you'd take the cot." "Wouldn't dream of it," he brushed off your offer again. You knew he would but you wanted to try anyway. "We're headed to Naboo this time," he informed you in his low monotone voice, while placing a holo puck on the control panel. "It's an easy target that should pose no danger." You nod knowing he's only taken low risk missions since your accident, not wanting to risk getting killed and leaving you all alone in this galaxy. The depth of the love you can see and feel he has towards you is overwhelming sometimes and you can't help feeling guilty that you don't feel the same (or that you can't remember that you feel the same). And even though he tries to hide his emotions under all that impenetrable Beskar there have been times when you've seen his cool demeanour start to crack.

The times when he hasn't heard you approach and he's lost in his thoughts and obvious sadness only to shake it off and become the stoic Mandalorian he always presents when he realises you're there. There have been instances when he has absentmindedly called you 'Cyar'ika' or 'Meshla' and apologised when he saw awkward you felt. You assured him there's no need to apologise and that you know this is hard for him too. "You know Mando, the doctor said to go back to our normal routine," whatever normal is, you inwardly huffed, "But taking the low risk bounties isn't what you used to do by the sound of it, and I know you're doing it for me. I feel like I'm holding you back and-" Din quickly turned in his seat to face you. "You've never held me back from anything. You are my priority and I'll always put you first and be here for you. If that means taking safer bounties I'm happy to do it." The sincerity of his voice helped to slightly ease the guilt you constantly feel.

Sometimes you feel it would be better for him if you left and he could move on with his life. You're brought out of your thoughts by the roar of the Crest's engines as Din starts it up ready to depart. His gloved hand hovers over the control buttons and for a split second you feel an overwhelming desire to reach out and hold his hand, as if your hand belongs in his. You have a brief visualisation of running your fingers tenderly over the blue triangle adorning his gauntlet, tracing the shape. Is this a memory or just a desire you have now? You decide to keep this to yourself, at least for now because the last thing you would want to do is give Din false hope. Once you'd landed on Naboo Din shut the engines down and began his preparations to track down the quarry. It's a Nautolan wanted for jumping bail while awaiting trial for smuggling charges.

"Y/N, I want you to wait for me in the cantina while I track him down." You nod as this is the usual way things go lately; he hunts and you wait. There have been times when you've wanted to accompany him, feeling strangely drawn to this kind of lifestyle, but Din vehemently refused every time since he almost lost you. He'd told you once that you used to do these jobs together and that you were more than capable of working alongside him, but since you have no memory of your past exploits into the dangerous world of bounty hunting he didn't want to risk your safety. So for his peace of mind you agreed to stay behind every time. It's the least you could do for him.

The cantina is bustling with all kinds of people; Twi'lek's, Quarran's, Aleena's, Toong's etc. Such a mixed bag. Sitting at the bar you can't help but enjoy the atmosphere as a band of Biths play their various instruments and happy chatter and laughter fills the air. You order a glass of Bespin Sparkle and lazily tap you foot to the rhythm of the band. An hour later the room abruptly turns silent as the Mandalorian enters, turning heads and eliciting quiet whispers as he walks through the crowd with the confidence you've grown to admire. "You're back sooner than I thought," you smiled, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Told you it would be an easy one," Din replied with a tone of smug satisfaction to his voice, gesturing to the Nautolan behind him, cuffed and head held low. "Come on, let's go back to the Crest," Din insisted softly, as he faintly places his palm on the small of your back to lead you out, and you can't help the butterflies you feel in your belly at his feather light touch. Whenever he shows care and tenderness like this it makes you feel safe and you can't deny that over time you have become attracted to him but you would never act on it because again, you don't want to give him false hope.

It's late when you arrive back at the Crest and Din wastes no time in encasing the quarry in frozen carbonite. After eating a ration pack for supper you bid Din goodnight and retire to the sleeping chamber. You're not sure how long you've been asleep when you suddenly jump up, gasping and shaking! You can't remember what you dreamed about but you're sure you heard the sounds of blaster fire. Not knowing if you dreamed it or if it came from outside you nervously open the door to the bunk and notice the ramp is open. It's never open this late and a pang of worry spreads through your gut. "Mando?" you call out; no answer. Cautiously walking outside it's evident there's no danger. You must have dreamed it. The woodland surrounding the Razor Crest is bathed in the silver glow of the moon and the only sounds you can hear are the nocturnal creatures that have emerged.

Looking up at the stars you feel a sense of peace wash over you as you get lost in the wonderment of how many more worlds there must be that are too far away to discover. You're suddenly brought out of your reverie by a flash of silver reflecting the moonlight in the not too far distance of the treeline leading into the woodland. As you squint to focus you realise Din is making his way into the woods. You decide to wait for him to return and sit on the ramp, looking back up at the ocean of stars, and listen to the insects and forest creatures going about their business. After a while of waiting for Din, you begin to grow concerned, wondering why he hasn't returned yet. He couldn't have gone too far, you think to yourself and decide to check the area you saw him walk into. As you slowly approach the treeline you are halted in your steps by an unfamiliar sound. Your heart sank as the realisation hit you. It's Din and he's crying.

His voice sounds un-modulated and you realise he has taken off the helmet. The lack of the enhanced senses of his helmet must have been the reason why he didn't hear you approach, that and the intense grief he's currently lost in right now. "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to protect you Y/N. I miss you.... so much!" Din hasn't felt this depth of loss and despair since losing his parents as a child. He's at a complete loss, knowing there's nothing he can do to help you and his heart feels heavier every day. But he will gladly bare this grief if it means keeping you safe. How he longs to reach out to you and hold you in his arms again, stroke your silky hair and whisper softly into your ear as you sleep, feel the intimate and loving connection you have both shared time and again, but as time goes on he feels the possibility slipping away into oblivion. It's absolute torture to love someone so deeply and not be able to tell or show them. He sighs and leans his head back against a tree, trying to clear his mind by focusing on the sounds of the world around him, trying to calm down before he makes his way back home.

The last thing he wants is for you to see him like this but little does he know you've just witnessed him in his most desperate and vulnerable state and it was agonising to hear. You've never heard so much pain and anguish in anyone's voice like you just heard in his. Clutching your hand over your heart you quietly turn and walk away. You feel as though your heart just broke into a thousand pieces, all for him. Tears stream down your cheeks as you walk back to the ship. Entering the sleeping chamber you close the door and fall onto the mattress, burying your face into the pillow. Suddenly all those repressed emotions from months of guilt and the despair you'd just witnessed from Din, along with the heartbreak you feel at causing him this pain erupted from deep within you and you screamed into the pillow, staining it with your tears that just won't stop flowing! After a few minutes you manage to compose yourself as the tears begin to ease but not stop. You close your eyes and take a deep breath as you are hit with a sudden clarity; You have to leave him, for his sake.

Part 2

#pedro pascal #din x reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x you #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin angst #din djarin x female reader #star wars #pedro pascal characters #mando x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fluff #star wars fanfiction

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dereliction-if · 1 year ago

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RO reactions if deep into relationship stage MC Cups their face in their hands and says, "Look, I can hold my entire world in my hands!"?

Y'all killin me with your Qs recently, they are soo much fun. Thank you so much. Ok now let's start:

potential NSFW below

The Heir - their face starts to glow at your words, the widest smile beaming over their whole face, they put their hands over yours, before they press their lips onto yours, a fiery hot kiss following as their tongue opens your lips, exploring your mouth with desire. Seconds later you're pressed against the wall as they hastily undress you, their lips not moving an inch from yours.

The Commander - he freezes. what did you just say? A lump in his throat as huge as a fist. you search his eyes for a reaction, and there is one, yet you can not put a finger on it. His eyes are frantically moving between yours, he blinks hard, then he takes a step back, takin a final look at you before he turns around and storms out of the room. Once he enters an empty room, he cannot hold back anymore, punching the nearby wall. He breaks down, falling to his knees, his hands over his eyes, tears and blood streaming down his face.

The Sovereign - "Such a silly little thing to say, darling" she smirks at you, then shakes her head, but something in her eyes changes, she looks vulnerable all of a sudden. She notices you watch her, that you have noticed something and she looks away. It takes a moment for her to collect herself before she takes your hand and leads you to the balcony for a moment of calm. As you both look out at the vast mountain scape you don't realize she drew closer, her hand brushing against your cheek. When you turn around to look at her, you see her eyes are fully focussed on the touch of her skin on yours, a hypnotizing warmth radiating from her, her eyes slightly glowing.

The Mage - they chuckle "Is that so?" a mischievous grin following as they take a step back, keeping your hands on their face, their own hands casting a little ball of leaves and flowers. Your both's eyes fascinated by the flowing little planet spinning. Then they look back at you, the magical sphere disappearing "You gave me purpose." the lean closer, their forehead touching yours.

The Mercenary - "What's with you and these strange things you say lately?" They grab your hands and remove them from their face, staring at you in confusion and disbelief. But then, you look hurt - shit. "I- I am sorry." they mumble. This just came unexpected and never had anybody said anything like this before. They have a hard time believing you mean it, still, after all that you have been through. They sigh. Stepping closer again and embracing you in a warm hug. A hug they learned you needed... and them too. "You are everything to me..." then they kiss your forehead.

The Knight - They need a moment to process what you said. You can see tears building in their eyes, just when they lower to their knees. Your hands still on their face, they grab them firmly, leaning into them, closing their eyes. You get down to their level and brush your thumb over their cheek, gently removing a rolling tear. They open their eyes just to find you looking at them already. Within moments you are on your back, their lips pressed against yours, their body atop with an undeniable urgency.

#the world in you hands #cute ask #a little spoiler you're welcome #qna: drlctn

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nyctophiliq · 2 years ago

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Make out sessions with sage and fem reader?

✮ —MAKING OUT WITH SAGE ; ling 'sage' ying wei

content warning. afab! reader, suggestive ! — lowercase writing intended, kissing, making out, touching

wc. 1,05 k

moss’ notes; this was honestly written without on single coherent thought in moss' mind, sage does that to moss lmao ENJOY 💗

It was more than an exhausting mission and you were glad that the Vulture was as fast as it was. while the beds on the plane were comfortable, but nothing beat your bed on base, the one that you have had so many problems with before finally breaking it in.

"why aren't you sleeping?" sage walked inside the small separated room from the other sleeping cabins, sitting on the bed across yours with a questioning look on her face. it was risky for her to be sharing a room with you, given how easily both of you could give into the attraction you felt for each other. sage knew she should have never let emotions get the better of her but the rules she had set out for everyone seemed to be the ones she broke all the time.

you closed your eyes as you laid back on the bed, "can't sleep." you replied shortly. you didn't want to explain anything else, you were sure she had seen you struggle to take out the mirror agents and was here for nothing but to check up on you. that was her job, that was what she did all the time.

she stared at you, trying to think of an appropriate reply but then decided against asking any questions and just got up and sat down on your bed. her eyes dodged yours, her fingers like worms crawling on the sheets, searching for yours to intertwine with.

you turned over, looking at her and seeing her hands stilled, waiting for a sign that you would open up to her. as you opened your eyes your gaze carefully shifted to her as you turned on your side, not knowing if you should sit up or lay flat.

you looked away and sighed, reaching for her hand "i can't sleep because of something stupid. don't worry about it." sage raised her eyebrows, not letting go of your hand,

"what's so stupid?" you shrugged and then looked at the ceiling, "a lot of things, i guess. they're just bothering me."

"it's your mind, right?" you nodded but you couldn't tell sage that those thoughts were more than bothersome, they were downright painful. you were frustrated, angry, and even hurt. you needed someone to hold onto, someone to help you sort through it, to calm you down, to comfort you when your world was spinning out of control.

your hands started trembling slightly, "yes," it came out shaky and barely audible.

sage leaned toward you, her voice soft, "why are you shaking?" her words made your chest tighten, "because I am afraid." you admitted, "but not enough to keep myself from doing this." sage turned to look at you, confused about your bold statement.

"do what?" sage asked. you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, your hand still intertwined with hers, "kiss you." sage's eyes went wide and you almost chuckled at how surprised she looked. her mouth hung open slightly before she slowly brought her free hand to your lips, her thumb grazing them gently. she was completely speechless.

you swallowed hard, your own heart racing a bit as you sit up from your pillow and reach for her cheek, pulling her in for a gentle kiss. it was chaste, sweet, slow, and everything you had wanted after the last time you were alone with the healer.

sage kissed back softly, hesitantly, her body leaning closer to yours. she pushed you back on the bed, straddling your waist and you let out a soft whine, breaking her out of her rhythm. you breathed in deeply, feeling her warm body pressed against you, and felt yourself relaxing under her embrace. she pulled away, her breathing heavy, her eyes asking if she could continue and you smiled shyly before nodding. sage moved forward again, kissing you once more, slower this time, but still full of passion. she held your chin, tilting it so she could kiss you deeper.

you wrapped your arms around her neck, holding on tightly as her hands wandered down to your breasts, caressing them. you shuddered underneath her, moaning quietly, making the sound resonate through her, sending vibrations throughout your entire body. you pulled her back down to you, her tongue teasing your lips. you parted them, her hands slipping beneath your tank top, cupping your breasts, your nipples pebbling in anticipation. you whimpered at the touch of her cold fingers, your back arching up from the bed and your chest colliding with hers.

the sensation was too much to bare, ling wanted more and she wasn't sure she could hold herself back if she kept going.

"sage…" you breathed, panting lightly. she pulled back a little, brushing her forehead against yours, her breath hitting your lips. you ran your fingers through her hair, tangling your fingers in the long strands as you stared into her eyes.

you saw the desire in hers mirrored in yours as she bit down on her lower lip, a nervous gesture. the heat of the moment was starting to dissipate but you knew that if you pushed this now it wouldn't end well, you weren't ready for this kind of relationship, nor would sage ever be. your mind was muddled with the fantasies of you and her together, in this exact position, wanting to full fill them.

you opened your mouth to talk when someone pounded on the door. "hey, y/n! is sage asleep in there?" a familiar voice called out from outside making sage groan, "yeah, i'm awake." sage answered.

"my stitches popped, can you re-do them please?" jett asked through the door. ling looked at you, closing her eyes before letting a frustrated sigh and getting up from the bed but not without leaving a warm peck on your cheek. "see you when we land."

without a word you let her exit the cabin, pulling the covers over yourself and trying to fall back asleep before she comes back inside. however, the images kept popping into your head and you couldn't stop thinking about the feel of her hand on your skin, the taste of her lips, and the way she looked at you with desire shining through her brown eyes, her dark eyelashes casting a shadow on her cheeks.

you were whipped, no question.

tag list ; @darlingmisa @pixiegirlz @orang3-ish @wolfheartsstuff

#📼 › moss tapes #valorant x reader #valorant sage #valorant sage x reader #ling ying wei x reader #valorant ling ying wei x reader #sage x reader

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waltwhitmansbeard · 1 year ago

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13 "I want you. All of you" with vaxleth :3

13. "I want you. All of you." this is not at all in the spirit of the prompt but oh well, this is what we got. this is grow with the flow!

"Am I annoying?"

Vax blinks, his brain struggling to make the switch away from the podcast episode he's editing. "What?"

Keyleth leans back against the kitchen counter, fingers fidgeting with a vine of the pothos she's repotting. She's not looking at him. "I was just...never mind." She turns back to her potting tools.

"Hey, wait, no." Vax shoves himself out of his chair and crosses over to her. He reaches around to still her hand, which is haphazardly troweling soil around the roots of the pothos. "Talk to me."

She sighs and drops the trowel. "Sometimes...sometimes I don't get why we're together."

Vax's heart stops beating in his chest. This conversation has the potential to go horrifically wrong; if she's about to break up with him, Vax is sure he won't survive it. He takes her hand in his and gently spins her to face him. Her cheeks are already red with embarrassment. "Do you...not want to be? Together?"

Keyleth's eyes finally snap to his. "No! I mean yes! Yes, I do!"

The feeling is slowly starting to creep back into his extremities. "Okay, some intense emotional whiplash happening here, Kiki."

"Ugh, this is what I mean!" She slips out from between him and the counter and begins pacing toward the bed. "I'm not good at this, the talking and the knowing what to say and the..." Her hands gesticulate wildly. "...being a person."

Vax feels like he's going crazy. "Babe...you literally have a podcast."

"That's different," she says dismissively, spinning around to pace back. "I can talk about plants, or baking, or, or Simon, but..." She stops in front of him, eyes wide, searching. "Do you ever feel like you're not a real person?"

She's looking at him with a desperation that he can feel but not understand. The fact of the matter is that he has no idea what she's talking about. Vax has always felt incredible real, incredibly human, incredibly alive. Every dumbfuck decision he's ever made has been in wild pursuit of some feeling, of lust or adrenaline or curiosity or boredom—he has always sought out the richest, fullest life. When Vax steps out onto the city street, he feels connected, like he's one fish in a school too big to comprehend, but hey, at least he can see the people he's swimming alongside.

He knows that Keyleth struggles with that sometimes, the connection, the understanding. But he never knew that she doesn't feel real. He takes her hand and pulls her toward their little loveseat. "I don't feel like that, no." They sit, and Vax pulls her head under his chin. "But can you tell me what it feels like?"

Keyleth sniffles and burrows against his chest. "It feels like...I don't know. Like everyone I know is a complete, complex person with dreams and plans and feelings, and I'm like...a houseplant they water sometimes. I absorb the light, and I grow a little, but I'm still potted where I am."

"Okay. So...you feel like your friends are moving on without you? Leaving you behind?"

"No, I..." She presses her fingers into her eyes. "I'm not making sense."

She's not, but Vax doesn't want to say that. So instead he says, "I may not get it, but I think I do get you. Maybe not perfectly, or completely, but I know the person you are—kind, compassionate, funny, diligent, cranky when it's past your bedtime—and I love you. And I want you. All of you. Even the parts of you that you don't think are real. Because I know they're real. I'm holding them right now."

"I believe you," she whispers. "I just don't know how to make it feel real."

Vax hums and begins to play with the fingers of one of her hands. "You know, sometimes, when I haven't really been looking after myself and it's late and I'm not feeling so hot, I look at you and I think, 'Hey, you need to get the fuck away from her before you ruin her life like you've ruined everything else you've ever loved.' And it really, really sucks, because I don't want to get away from you. I love you."

"I don't want you to get away from me, either," she murmurs, squeezes his fingers.

"And I know that. I know that that's true, and you mean it, and it's real. But it doesn't feel real, not in the moment. So I tell myself it's real anyway, and it's a lie, because I don't believe it, but I've found that if I just tell the lie to myself enough times, there's a good chance I start to believe it."

They sit in silence for a while, listening to each other's breathing and the hum of the dishwasher and Simon rumbling purrs in the window. Vax would gnaw off his own arm to know what Keyleth's thinking, but he knows he's got to give her the time she needs to untangle the roots of her thoughts. Eventually she says, "I don't know...if it works like that. If I can lie to myself the way you can. But I do know that I feel...more real with you. Like I'm not an actor on a stage, but a person living a life. It feels good."

He kisses the top of her head. "Good. I'm glad. Because I, for one, am a big fan of the life we've got going, and I really want you to like it, too."

"I do." She looks up, smiling unsurely. "I like you."

"Thank the gods, otherwise this would be super awkward." And he kisses her, and he hopes she can feel in his lips all the things he is too fumbling and too unsure to say.

#ask #ravendruid #critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #my fic #grow with the flow au #critical role au #cr au #vox machina au #vaxleth au

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marvelsage · 2 years ago

Text

Namor *

Namor x Pacific Islander Reader

POC reader / POC Friendly

You had not gone to the funeral but instead watched from a distance as they carried her casket down the streets to her final resting place. Even though they had told you it was fine to join them, it would have felt like you were intruding.

It was a while later that you had returned to the place you were staying at for the time being to begin packing when Shuri had approached you.

“I need to know you are with me.” Freezing you turn to her confused as to why she is suddenly questioning you.

“Of course” She steps closer and really stresses the importance of you being by her side.

“Shuri, what the hell is this all about?! Huh! Cause ever since you back from the other side you haven’t been yourself.”

“I just needed to know.”

“No that’s not it, cause if that was it you wouldn’t have came here in the first place. So what is it? Who did you really talk to?” She doesn’t saying anything but instead leaves as the talk with her cousin restarts in her head.

SPIRITUAL LAND

“Watch that little water bender of yours.”

“Y/n? She is one of my greatest friends. What does she have to do with this?”

“Let’s just say, their something special to fish man. Their a liner, people who are neither on yours or his side. So they stay in the middle, which is dangerous cause with a one little pull and it’s over. Alright.”

BATTLE

The battle had begun and you used your bending to sweep the talokan off their feet and back into the water. Occasionally using hand to hand combat but that wasn’t often as most seemed to avoid you. You were up against Namora, it looked to be an equal fight.

“Muestras nuxi’ páajtalil yéetel muuk.”

“You show great power and strength.”

“A el igual que teech”

“As do you.” Before catching behind her leg and knocking her back. Using her spear against her as more Talokan start to enclose on the remaining of you. Looking back down she raises her hand in surrender and nods. Taking the spear, you spin it to bend a massive wave around the ship, your eye’s illuminating white.

“Ya’ax ka’áak’náab”

“Ya’ax ka’áak’náab” The Talokan chant among themselves as you hold the wave high. Before slowly letting it drop as a ship holding Namor and Shuri appear. They announce their alliance and slowly everyone begins to rejoice in the unity.

When you all had returned to the shores of Wakanda, Shuri had pulled you aside.

“I just wanted to apologize for questioning you earlier.” You nod slowly as the others kept going.

“It hurt but I’m over it. Friends?” Sticking your hand out, she laughs before pulling you in for a hug.

“We are family, Y/n.” Pulling away you hold her shoulders and smile gently.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this but, you are stronger than you think are, Shuri. If you ever need someone to talk to, I am always there.” She shakily exhales and nods once again.

“Thank you.” She leaves you on the shore, you turn hearing someone break though the surface of the water. Namor comes out limping and when you looked close enough you saw one of his wings were broken.

“That must hurt.” Meeting his eyes as he keeps a good distance. He looks down and grimaces while shifting to his other leg.

“Very much so.” Humming you step closer and casually wrap water around it to snap it back into place. He stumbles and sits down at the sudden pressure while you continue.

“Ma juntúul Chan paale’ ”

“Don’t be a baby.” He groans as you grow a green fern around it to secure the bound. You were sitting beside him now watching the sunset, comfortably. Once again that familiar warmth cloaked one another, unconsciously pulling each closer.

“My peaople have taken to calling you ‘Ya’ax ka’áak’náab’ or ‘sea green’. I find it somewhat fitting.”

“And what does the K’uk’ulkan think is more fitting of a name for me, hmm?” He gently grasps your chin to find him gazing at you as if you held the very stars.

“In Reina…”

“You don’t even know me.”

“But I could get to know you. You cannot deny the pull you feel as I do and even then I will spend the rest of our lives making up for all that I have done to you, In yakunaj.”

“You better take me on a date first.” He laughs and you find yourself wanting to hear it more.

“Of course, in yakunaj.”

“I’m allergic to shrimp.” He nods chuckling still though a devious look in his eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about anything ‘shrimp’ related.” He winks and you roll your eyes at his foolish humor causing him to laugh once again.

Resting your forehead against his you sigh and think this over but in the back of your mind you already knew. His lips meet yours the second you nod and you thank whatever decision you made in life to lead you here.

#namor x you #namor x y/n #namor x poc!reader #namor of talokan #kukulkan #kukulkan x reader #x poc reader #talokan

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elrondsimp · 1 year ago

Note

Can you write a hurt/comfort Gandalf×female reader? Maybe the reader has a panic attack before a battle or something? Gandalf needs more romance. If it's not your thing to write, I totally understand. But, if you do, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Gandalf x F! Reader

“Stronger than you know.”

A/n: Thank you for requesting! I hope it’s what you want!!! Mwah!

Y/n stood on the precipice of the battlefield, anxiety clawing at her chest like a relentless beast. The impending clash of armies, the chaos, the violence—it was all too much. She clutched the hilt of her sword, her knuckles white with tension, and her breaths came fast and shallow.

Gandalf, her beloved husband, sensed her distress. He reached out and gently took her hand, his touch grounding her in the midst of the turmoil. "Y/n," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm, "look at me."

She turned to him, tears brimming in her eyes, and met his steady gaze. "I can't do this, Gandalf," she confessed, her voice trembling. "I'm terrified."

He smiled, but it was a smile filled with empathy and love. "You are stronger than you realize, my dear. Remember all that you've overcome, the battles you've fought. You are not alone, and I am with you."

But as the war drums grew louder, Y/n's anxiety reached a breaking point. Her chest tightened, and she couldn't breathe. Panic gripped her heart, and she sank to her knees, gasping for air.

Gandalf knelt beside her, his face etched with concern. He cradled her in his arms, sheltering her from the chaos around them. "Breathe with me, Y/n," he murmured, guiding her through slow, deep breaths. "In... and out. In... and out."

She clung to his guidance, each measured breath a lifeline in the storm of her panic. Gradually, her racing heart began to steady, and the world stopped spinning.

Gandalf continued to hold her, his presence a fortress of strength. "You're safe," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I won't let anything harm you."

#lotr #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #y/n #the fellowship of the ring #lotr x reader #fem reader #gandalf #romantic gandalf #gandalf x reader #x you #lotr x y/n #Gandalf x you

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causeilikelix · 8 months ago

Text

'Cause I Like You - Chapter Fourteen - Dance Practice

↳ Pairing: Felix x OC / Hyunjin x OC

↳ Genre: Romance, comedy, smut (eventual), slow burn, enemies (idiots) to friends (idiots) to lovers (probably still idiots), high school au, college au, non-idol au

↳ See Chapter One for summery and blanket warnings

↳ Chapter warnings: Nothing specific, some sexual tension, a lot of girl talk, some creepy vibes...

↳ Read on my A03: Here

↳ Notes: Sorry this took so long! Had a mental break down. Here we are. Going forward there is a character in here who shares the same name and general appearance as a certain beloved idol. This character does not resemble him in real life, this is just a character depiction who needed a name, please don't be mad lol

<- Chapter Thirteen - Chapter Fifteen ->

“HYUNJIN-AH, WHAT AM I going to do?” Eunbyeol lamented, throwing herself onto the black vinyl floor of the dance practice room. “How is it that of all people I just had to be paired with the one person I hate the most?”

“You hate Felix? Wait... you know Felix?” Hyunjin blinked in surprise as he plugged his phone into the sound system to play music so they could warm up.

“As if you told me that you knew him!”

“It never came up.” Hyunjin shrugged.

“I guess I didn’t say anything either, but like come on! How could you not talk about your other friends with me?” Eunbyeol lifted her head off the floor to look up at him. “Are we not best friends anymore?”

“What?” Hyunjin turned to her with a gasp, his hand reaching up to clutch his heart. “How dare you even suggest that! My own best friend assumes I don’t devote all of my waking time to her!”

“I don’t know man, you’re the one not telling me about your other friends.” Eunbyeol rolled her eyes and set her head back down on the floor and ignoring Hyunjin’s drama. “It’s not like I enjoy talking about the person I hated in high school.”

“You hated him?” Hyunjin quirked an eyebrow up at her. He pretended like his gaze didn’t instinctively linger on her legs for a few extra seconds before turning back to his phone. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who hates Felix.”

“Really? I’m the only one?” Eunbyeol groaned, covering her face with her hands.

“I think so, Byeol-ah. He’s pretty popular in all of his friend groups and extracurriculars and stuff. Whatever he did or whoever he was in high school, it certainly can’t be that bad.”

“Honestly, I’m over it. He just gives off the wrong vibe, you know? I can’t believe I have to spend all this fucking time with him and hold his hand or look into his eyes or some shit.”

“You have to hold his hand?” Hyunjin perked up at this and tossed another glance over his shoulder. He hoped his tone of voice didn’t give away his alarm. He didn’t like the idea of some other guy holding hands with Eunbyeol properly before he could.

“Unless you can find something else to do that isn’t as fucking miserable with your partner, whatever his name is-”

“Dowoon.”

“Sorry?”

“My partner. His name is Dowoon.”

“Right, sorry, Dowoon... then maybe I can get out of all the shit I have to do with Felix. I looked over the list and like ninety percent of them are all things I want to do with you!”

Hyunjin didn’t respond while he scrolled through his playlist for the perfect song to warm up to. He kept quiet mostly to conceal the blush burning in his cheeks. Eunbyeol stared at the ceiling fan over her head spinning in lazy circles. She doubted very much that it would do anything for the airflow. After a few more minutes of silence an upbeat, peppy song filled the room. Eunbyeol groaned and threw her arm over her eyes, hoping for a few more seconds of peace before the work began.

Hyunjin made his way over to where his friend laid on the floor and crouched next to her. Eunbyeol’s breathing remained slow and steady and for a moment he wondered if she’d fallen asleep. It wouldn’t be the first time. Hyunjin reached out and gently poked her forearm. She didn’t move. Next he poked the palm of her hand, then her shoulder.

“Byeol-ah, come on.” Hyunjin whined, poking her shoulder a few times in rapid succession. Eunbyeol could practically see his lower lip stuck out into a pout. “We have to stretch.”

“No! I want to take a nap.” Eunbyeol protested, turning her head away from him.

Hyunjin poked her a few more times on her shoulder before venturing lower to her waist. There, he focused his efforts on tickling the exposed skin where her sports tank had ridden up. Eunbyeol shrieked and tried to roll away from him but Hyunjin’s slim yet muscular form hoved over her, tickling her relentlessly. Any attempts to escape his grip would be futile had she even tried. He poked his fingers to her sides and tugged on her arm, trying to pull it away from her eyes. None of his attempts seemed to work.

“Come on, get up!” Hyunjin urged, continuing to poke and tickle any and all exposed skin. He couldn’t help the grin that rose onto his lips from watching her wiggle around underneath him. “We have to get to work!”

“Jinnie, no! Stop!” Eunbyeol’s breath heaved from her exertions. Hyunjin immediately pulled his hands away. He sat down next to her and laughed as he watched her fight for breath. She laid there for a few more minutes with her arm slung over her eyes.

“Alright, let’s go.” Hyunjin rose to his feet and waited for her to respond. After a moment, he decided to take things into his own hands.

Eunbyeol thought for a second he’d given up or had started stretching without her. However, only seconds later Hyunjin grabbed her hand and pulled, urging her to get up. She didn’t move for a few seconds before sighing and letting her feet find the ground. Hyunjin pulled her up easily with one hand until they stood facing one another while the music played behind them.

Instantly, Eunbyeol let out a soft gasp at the sudden proximity. Hyunjin gazed down at her, his eyes wide with the same realization. His large hand enveloped hers comfortably with their palms pressed together warmly. It certainly was not a secret that Hwang Hyunjin was hot. Hyunjin’s features were soft and boyish, almost pixie-like. His black hair looked soft and Eunbyeol’s fingers itched to run through his long, thick strands. They were currently pulled back by a deep burgundy ribbon, keeping all of the flyaways out of his face. Though his soft face was sharply contrasted with a few angles in his jaw and cheekbones, Eunbyeol could imagine him as a baby. His plush mouth, however, was definitely not baby-like and she did not think about what it would feel like on hers. Not at all. Not even a little bit. She didn’t think of her best friend as anything other than just that: her best friend.

Not at all.

Hyunjin suddenly cleared his throat and dropped her hand. Right away all of the atmosphere in the room disappeared. Or maybe it was Eunbyeol’s throat closing. Either way, Hyunjin turned towards the mirrors and began to tilt his head from side to side, exposing his neck to her. Eunbyeol took a shameless moment to stare at him and wondered why the hell she couldn’t grow a goddamn backbone and just tell him. In the end, she didn’t want to ruin a good thing. She followed his lead and tilted her head back and forth in time with his.

“Have you come up with some songs for our first duet assignment in a couple weeks?” Eunbyeol inquired innocently, hoping to cover up any and all traces of the last few minutes.

“What do you take me for?” Hyunjin scoffed as he began to roll his neck in slow circles. Eunbyeol followed his lead. Hyunjin reached into the pocket of his sweats and produced a carefully folded piece of notebook paper and passed it to her without missing a beat.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best partner of all time?” Eunbyeol carefully unfolded the page to peer at the list. “You also have impeccable music taste.”

“What can I say?” Hyunjin made a huge show of tossing his imaginary hair over his shoulder. “I’m the greatest.”

“Oh, I don’t know about ‘Senorita’. I think everyone else will want to do that song, too.”

“I know, but don’t you remember that night we went out to Starcatcher a few weeks ago? That song came on and I swear to god even Minho was salivating watching us. I think we could make it so unique.”

“I love the song and all, but I don’t know about doing our assignment on it. We could choreograph our own if you want, though.” Eunbyeol offered him a sly smile in the mirror as they raised their arms over their head before bending over in half. Even though he only saw it for a second, Hyunjin caught on anyway.

“You just want to be in another one of my videos for YouTube.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes so hard, Eunbyeol could practically see them rolling to the back of his skull.

“Come on, don’t you remember how many views you got when we posted our duet of ‘Best Friend’? Everyone loved our choreography!”

“You just want the portfolio addition. I see right through you, Cha Eunbyeol.”

“As if you don’t! C’mon, I got like a thousand new subscribers overnight. Not to mention, my TikTok following skyrocketed.” Eunbyeol slowly straightened her spine and they gracefully moved into the next stretch.

“Okay, before we decide on that, I want to know your ideas for our duet project.” Hyunjin huffed decidedly.

A smirk rose onto Eunbyeol’s lips and she briefly abandoned stretching one of her arms to reach into the side pocket of her leggings for her own folded piece of paper. She reached out with that hand and slipped the page between Hyunjin’s backwardly outstretched hand. His long fingers curled around the paper immediately and he quickly unfolded it before bending back into the stretch. He hummed and mused over her song choices for a few seconds before immediately standing up straight and turning to her with a mock-hurt expression written on his features. His lips parted into an ‘O’ and his hand found its place on his ever-wronged heart.

“You bitch, you want to do ‘Senorita’, too! Why are you being such a hardass?” Hyunjin’s fake scowl made a giggle bubble up in Eunbyeol’s throat. Hyunjin could insult her all day long every day and she would know that he didn’t mean a single word.

“Because...” Eunbyeol shifted into their next stretch and he was quick to copy her. “It’s fun to be mean to you.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He didn’t.

As far as Eunbyeol was concerned, he was probably the best thing that could have possibly happened to her during her freshman year intro dance class. They met on the very first day of class and hit it off like they’d been friends for years. With Hyunjin, everything was easy. Dancing came to him like he was born to do it and with how skilled he was already Eunbyeol could easily believe it. They weren’t dance partners at first, since most of their first semester focused on basic steps and theory. In fact, they weren’t partners properly until their second semester.

Eunbyeol never once in her life thought that sparks flying was a real thing. Perfect chemistry with someone else simply didn’t exist and she was sure that she would never experience it. At least, not until she danced with Hyunjin. It was like he knew each and every one of her movements several counts before she actually did it. It’s not like they were improv pros or anything (the bruise on Hyunjin’s left foot from where Eunbyeol stepped it all semester was proof enough of that), but they grew to learn each other’s dancing styles quickly. With all the time they spent together practicing, it wasn’t long before they started spending time outside of the studio. Aside from Jiho, Eunbyeol was sure she’d never clicked with another person quite as well as she clicked with him.

The pair stretched for a few more minutes while the music cycled through whatever playlist Hyunjin put on. Eunbyeol sighed happily as her muscles tensed and relaxed into each new stretch. Sometimes, the stretches at the beginning and end of practice were the best parts. Nothing was more relaxing than releasing all of that pent-up tension. Hyunjin glanced over at her and grinned. Nothing was quite as healing as dancing with your best friend. How did she get so lucky?

“Alright,” Eunbyeol stretched her arms over her head as Hyunjin made his way over to his phone to turn the music off. “What ideas do you have? I don’t remember everything we did.”

“It’s not my fault you had that fifth drink and can’t remember!” Hyunjin teased. “But I was thinking of something along the same vein as that one cover that May J Lee did. Like one of us does the first verse and chorus, the other does the second, and then we combine them. The idea is to show how our dance styles complement each other right?”

“Right, I agree, but I think we should combine on the second chorus. Here’s what I’m thinking... let’s choreograph the chorus so our moves could be stand-alone for the first chorus and build from there. I had an idea for the second eight-count, you know the part when he sings...”

Eunbyeol and Hyunjin jumped right into choreographing. As Hyunjin showed her his ideas, some of that drunken night at Starcatcher came back to her. Not all of it, but just enough to get what he was saying. It wasn’t long before they found an easy rhythm, moving with one another easily as if they’d been doing this for years. Hyunjin effortlessly countered her every move and even predicted her almost stepping on his foot (again) and jumped out of the way just in time.

She watched their bodies move in the mirror and it was almost surreal. Hyunjin’s eyes were glued to the mirror, watching as a routine came to life before him. Eunbyeol also couldn’t believe it. No matter how many times she and Hyunjin worked together, Eunbyeol had to be reminded every time just how talented he was. Hyunjin’s long limbs were completely under his control from the very tips of his strong hands to his toes. He towered several inches over her, which made their dynamic all that much more interesting. Somehow she wondered how he walked around because his legs were slim and sometimes she wondered if he even had a waist. However, due to his active lifestyle his muscles were firm to the touch so he wasn’t about to wither away anytime soon. Hyunjin didn’t need the ego boost, so Eunbyeol kept her thoughts about his physique to herself.

The pair experimented with different moves for so long that she forgot to check the time. A common instance, seeing as the texts building up from Jiho weren’t as alarmed as they used to be when she and Hyunjin first started doing this. For now, Eunbyeol’s phone sat forgotten on top of her backpack. The clock over the door counted the minutes away. The sun dipped slightly lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the campus and long shadows stretching over the ground. Eunbyeol and Hyunjin kept their eyes on their reflections in the mirror as they danced and created.

After a while, Hyunjin bounded over to his phone to turn on the song before hurrying back to her to try their new choreography with the music again. They hoped that their timing would be right this time. Their thin workout clothes clung to their skin. Eunbyeol pretended not to notice his glistening skin when he made his way back over and took his natural place by her side. He counted their steps under his breath as they danced, just to make sure both of them were on time. After only a few hours it was far from perfect but on its way to something beautiful.

Even after all that time, the pair only came up with the first half of the chorus but as soon as they came to a stop, with Hyunjin behind her with both hands on her waist, a wide smile lit up his face. His eyes turned into little crescent moons and Eunbyeol couldn’t stop herself from turning in his grasp and throwing her arms around his neck. Hyunjin’s hands were quick to move from her waist to wrap around her torso and pull her into him. They ignored the stickiness of their sweaty skin and damp clothes in favor of hugging. She didn’t even mind that his long black hair stuck to him and droplets of sweat fell onto her shoulders. Eunbyeol giggled brightly when Hyunjin lifted her feet off the ground.

“This looks so good already, Jinnie! We’re gonna get a good grade for sure.”

“That’s all I am to you? A good grade?” Hyunjin lowered her feet to the ground but didn’t let her go.

“Yes, but you’re the best grade.” Eunbyeol smiled innocently up at him and he threw his head back and laughed, bringing a hand up to ruffle her hair a little bit.

“I can accept this. You wanna go get bubble tea?” Hyunjin offered.

“Do I ever! I’m starving, too. We should probably record this first and then do our ending stretches, though.”

“Come on, let’s just go!” Hyunjin whined, his face dropping into a pout. He stuck his lip out at her and she almost caved.

“We have to record it so we can remember it! Also, you’ll just whine at me when you wake up all sore tomorrow.”

“Always the voice of reason.” He rolled his eyes dramatically before releasing her from his grip. His hands grazed over her back and to her waist before dropping off her completely. “Whose phone should we use?”

“We can use mine.” Eunbyeol dropped her grip from around him and started for her phone but a voice from the door stopped her in her tracks.

“I could record it for you!”

Her heart stopped in her chest and she gasped, turning to catch a glance at who might have spoken. Park Jimin, a senior in the dance major, leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. A smile stretched across his soft features and he tilted his head at her. He stared at her openly, almost not even seeing Hyunjin until his protective hand came up to cover her shoulder. Eunbyeol relaxed, seeing it was just her friend who was the TA for her dance theory class last semester.

“Ah, Jimin-sunbae, you scared me!” Eunbyeol smiled politely. Hyunjin squeezed her shoulder but she brushed him off. “That’s nice of you but we can take care of it.”

“I thought you didn’t bring your phone stand with you to school today.” Jimin reminded her.

“Oh, I’m sure I did...” Eunbyeol made her way over to her backpack and duffle bag to dig through her stuff. She unzipped her duffle bag to rummage around, finding her ballet shoes, another change of activewear, binding tape, her foot roller for her arches, a circle light but no... phone stand. “I could have sworn I packed it this morning.”

“It’s okay, I can hold your phone and record you guys. I have pretty steady hands. You looked great!” Jimin stepped into the room, keeping his eyes on Eunbyeol and stretching out his hand for her phone.

“We can take care of it ourselves.” Hyunjin spoke, but Jimin waited for Eunbyeol’s approval.

“Oh sure, thank you!” Eunbyeol, thoroughly persuaded, opened the camera app and passed him her phone. “I really appreciate it.”

“Byeol-ah, we can just prop it up on the barre.” Hyunjin suggested.

“Come on, it’ll just take a second. Go start the music.”

“I...” Hyunjin watched Jimin out of the corner of his eye as he moved to stand in the front of the room, holding the camera up to gauge lighting. “Fine. But make sure to bring your stand tomorrow, yeah?”

“I will!” Eunbyeol promised before heading to the center of the room to take her spot. Hyunjin rolled his eyes and made his way over to his phone to set up the music. “Thank you, Jimin-sunbae!”

“Always happy to help out a friend.” He paused a second, glancing over at Hyunjin before continuing. “Are you coming to the welcoming party for the freshman?”

“When is that? I haven’t been to the common room this semester yet.”

“We have some conflicts for the next couple of weekends but it’ll be on the third week of the semester on a Friday. Can you make it?” A hopeful glance flashed across Jimin’s face but it was gone moments later.

“In three weeks? Strange time to have a party. Don’t we usually do them the first week of school? I don’t know yet, but I'll have to see what Hyunjin is doing.” Eunbyeol looked over at Hyunjin.

“Oh, I think he’s going to be in Daegu that weekend for a showcase. I thought you were going to go to that, too, but I looked at the list and didn’t see your name.” Jimin’s easy smile returned, spanning across his young features. “We had to postpone it because something happened at the restaurant we usually go to so we couldn’t get a reservation for a couple weeks. I dunno, someone was saying something about a fire?”

“Oh... I’m not sure I’m going to go if he’s not. I’ll have to let you know.”

“Sure! Just let me know. I hope you’ll be able to make it.”

Eunbyeol’s muscles suddenly relaxed when Hyunjin signaled for Jimin to start recording. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d gotten. She figured she’d just been dancing for too long. Hyunjin hurried to Eunbyeol’s side to start the choreography. They got into position and waited for the second chorus to begin. Eunbyeol watched herself in the mirror, trying to focus on that and not the camera trained or Hyunjin’s hand snaking along her waist from behind. She tried especially hard not to focus on the blush creeping up the back of her neck or her thighs clenching in anticipation. Hyunjin often affected her like this and she figured that it was part of why they were so good together... as dance partners.

When the chorus started, the pair of them started to dance, falling into it and into each other easily. Even though they’d only just started working on the choreography, her body remembered it as if it was as easy as breathing. Hyunjin’s body rolled and swayed with hers and she found that she didn’t need to watch the mirror anymore, she only needed to watch him. The moment their eyes connected, Eunbyeol’s knees almost gave out but Hyunjin’s hands were on her waist to guide her into the next move before she knew it. His eyes bore into her intensely, letting the message of the song shimmer in them. His lips parted slightly and Eunbyeol had to look away from him, faking a sudden need to check her movements in the mirror.

Eunbyeol’s eyes found Jimin’s immediately and her lips parted in shock. She’d forgotten that he was even there. Something about dancing with Hyunjin made the outside world slip away. Her heart skipped a beat to find that Jimin was already staring at her. Hyunjin’s grip on her waist tightened the moment their choreography ended. The song continued playing over the speakers but Hyunjin made no move to let go of her. Jimin’s smile stretched over his face once more when the song ended and he tapped on the screen of her phone to end the recording.

“Great job guys! You choreographed all of that in just a few hours?” Jimin stepped forward to hand Eunbyeol’s phone back to her, but Hyunjin took it instead.

“Yeah, we did.” Hyunjin responded on behalf of Eunbyeol.

“That’s incredible! I can’t wait to see the finished result!” Jimin shot Eunbyeol a wink and she responded with a weak smile. Hyunjin’s grip on her tightened for another second before he had to move away to pause the song. Jimin took the opportunity to close in. “Listen... I knew you were good, but not that good! I’m impressed.”

“Thanks.” Eunbyeol managed, her gaze drifted past him to where Hyunjin stood in the corner, messing with his phone.

“So, listen. For the last couple years I’ve been interning at Hybe Entertainment and I’m pretty sure they’re gonna offer me a job when I graduate because they like me so much. I was thinking... You really have a lot of talent. If you wanted, I could get you an internship there. I could talk to my manager and get your resume through if you apply.”

“Sorry, Hybe?” Eunbyeol’s eyes widened and her already pounding heart began to hurt, remembering him talking about it during class last semester. The prestigious company produced so many of the top idols in the Kpop industry and their choreography was notorious for being difficult. Their backup dancers often went on to be in other idol groups or get other good jobs in the industry. Except... “I didn’t know they accepted women into the company?”

“Well, maybe not female trainees, but they would accept you onto the dance team to at least be a backup dancer. Even if it’s not what you do forever, Hybe would look really good on your resume.” Jimin wiggled his eyebrows.

“Really?” Eunbyeol raised an eyebrow at him incredulously. “You could get me an internship?”

“I could. It would be so easy.”

“That would be incredible! I mean... I don’t know if I could fit it in between my job and school but it would be so amazing.” Eunbyeol grinned in spite of herself, her mind swirling with images of working in such a high-profile company. It almost sounded too good to be true.

“Come on, just apply and give it a shot. I’ll pull some strings and get you a spot, hm?” Jimin urged with a wink.

“You could seriously do that?”

“Of course! They’re recruiting interns right now, so you have a good chance. Think about it and let me know, yeah?” Jimin reached out and patted her shoulder. “I’ll see you later! Text me about dinner, okay?”

“I will!” Eunbyeol waved as he started towards the door. He shot her one more wink before slinking out of the practice room.

“What the hell did he want?” Hyunjin asked immediately, his voice filling the room a little too loudly.

“He was just being nice, Jinnie.” Eunbyeol sighed, getting in position in front of the mirror to do their post-dance stretches. “He wants me to apply for an internship at Hybe.”

“You mean his internship that he never shuts up about?” Hyunjin rolled his eyes and started his playlist and joined her to stretch. “And he wants you to join?”

“Yeah, he says I’m talented enough to get in! Isn’t that crazy?” Eunbyeol grinned. “I think it would be so cool to at least audition there, don’t you? Hey, we could apply together! They’re hiring interns right now!”

“I’d rather walk over a pit of hot coals than audition for Hybe, to be honest.”

“Really? Is it really that bad?”

“Not necessarily, just not my ideal company, that’s all.” Hyunjin shrugged as they started to roll their necks in circles.

“Alright, then I’ll look into applying myself!” Eunbyeol’s heart fluttered as she spoke. Hyunjin shot her a grin.

“Hey, guys,” a new voice came from the door but neither of the dancers budged. Eunbyeol glanced up to see one of the seniors in the major but she wasn’t too close to him. Luckily, Hyunjin knew him well.

“Yeah, Minho-hyung, what is it?” Hyunjin kept looking at the mirror and not at the cat-eyed senior at the door.

“Are you guys almost done? My studio time starts in less than ten minutes.”

“Yeah, we’re doing our closing stretches. You’re welcome to join us if you want.” Hyunjin offered.

Eunbyeol glanced over at their senior, who was still in his street clothes with his dance bag slung over his shoulder. His arms were crossed over his chest and he rolled his eyes and Hyunjin’s answer. His face was set and stoic. For a second, Eunbyeol worried he was upset. Instead, he waved a hand dismissively.

“I still have to change. You guys better be gone by the time I come back.”

With that, Minho turned away from the door and disappeared from their line of sight. Eunbyeol glanced back at the mirror, where Hyunjin was looking at her instead of where Minho-sunbae had just disappeared.

“Where do you want to go for dinner?”

Hyunjin glanced over at her as the gears turned in her head for a second. Then, her eyes lit up and she turned to him with a glint in her eye that made his heart flip flop in his chest. Even with her hair messy from dancing and reeking of sweat, she looked beautiful and like the only person he wanted to spend his day with. She opened her mouth to speak and he said it with her.

“Ddeokbokki.”

~!~!~!~!~!~

“HYUNJIN-AH, WHY ARE you late again?” Chan didn’t even glance up from his computer when Hyunjin entered the studio and crashed heavily onto the brown leather sofa along the back wall.

Chan, a music production major and a year or two ahead of Hyunjin and everyone else in their friend group, kept his eyes glued to his computer and barely acknowledged Hyunjin until he sat down. He pulled one of his earphones off his ear so he could hear both Hyunjin and Minho, who was in the recording booth and singing a new song that Chan wrote. Hyunjin hauled himself off the couch and made his way to where Chan sat and found a few pages of sheet music with his name written along the top. He took it and returned to his seat, sinking into the cool fabric.

“Dance practice went over again.” His usual excuse, and it was usually true. Chan, however, was too smart.

“You went to dinner with Miss Dance Partner again?” Chan finally glanced over his shoulder to smile at his friend. Hyunjin fought back a smile, but he couldn’t keep it at bay for long.

“Yeah.”

“Ooooh, Hyunjinnie is in loooove!” Changbin, the shortest of the group and a music technology junior, cooed from his place in his beanbag chair in the corner. Hyunjin coughed dramatically and turned his face away so the other boys couldn’t see the flush warming his cheeks.

“I’m gonna have to have a talk with this girl and lecture her on letting you go early so we can record.” Chan shook his head, but judging from the smile on his face, Hyunjin figured he didn’t really mean it.

“Yeah, you still have to introduce us, don’t think I’ve forgotten! From the videos on YoutTube, your dance partner looks hot as fuck and its a crime to keep that from me!” Changbin thrust an accusing finger at Hyunjin.

“I know, I know!” Hyunjin raised his hands in defense. “I asked her to tag along today but she got a message from her acting partner and got into a bad mood, so she went home instead.”

“Her acting partner? Wait, you didn’t get to be her partner? I’m surprised the planet is still spinning!”

“Yeah, she was late to class. She was listening to that radio show she likes so much.” Hyunjin rolled her eyes at the thought and suddenly found himself glad that the host couldn’t hear him. “So, she got paired with someone she didn’t like and I got paired with some kid named Dowoon.”

“How will you ever survive this semester without her as your theater partner!” Changbin lamented and threw his head back, covering his eyes with his arm. “I shall begin arranging your funeral promptly.”

“Shut up, Changbin-hyung, seriously. It’s not that bad. I’m disappointed but it is what it is.”

“Very mature for someone who literally was drunk crying a few weeks ago about how much you liked her.”

“Hey! I thought we agreed not to talk about that!” Hyunjin sat up, searching his immediate vicinity for something to chuck at Changbin. He found a random crumpled receipt stuck between the cushions and used that. Changbin didn’t even flinch when it bounced harmlessly off his bicep.

“Our lovesick Hyunjinnie is so cute!” Changbin’s smile made Hyunjin dive back into the cushions for something else to throw. “I mean, I agree. She looked cute in that dress on Jeongin’s Outfit of the Day Intsa post. What, that blue dress?”

“She did.” Hyunjin paused, his lip sticking out in a pout. He paused. “And the dress was pink.”

“Guys, come on. At least look at the sheet music I spent all night notating for you?” Chan muttered over his shoulder.

The two younger boys apologized to the eldest and turned their attention onto the music. The song that Chan had written was, as usual, incredible. Hyunjin was always so flattered that Chan, Changbin, and Jisung liked to include his voice in their songs. He thought he was a better dancer than a singer, but since he started working with Chan and the others on their musical endeavors his voice had improved so much. This time, it looked like Hyunjin would be rapping more than singing and he wasn’t complaining.

Eventually, Chan okayed Minho to leave the studio and the boy inside took off his headphones and made his way into the room. Minho was older than Hyunjin by a year or so and he often had a hard resting-face that made him look consistently angry. The later into the day it got and the more tired he became, the more his resting-bitch-face unnerved Hyunjin to no end. Which is why the moment Minho’s tired eyes landed on the spot where Hyunjin sat on the couch he sprang to sit on the other side. Minho wasn’t exactly mean or rude, especially not to Hyunjin, but he never wanted to be on the receiving end of his anger. He’d seen it once before and he never wanted to see it again.

Minho collapsed onto the couch and lolled his head back and closed his eyes. It wasn’t terribly late in the day, but he’d been up since before dawn and he was looking forward to resting. Hyunjin admired Minho for many reasons, including the fact that he was double majoring in dance and music production. Because of that, Hyunjin was inspired to double major himself. Despite the exhausting schedule, he was glad that he could indulge his two greatest talents and hobbies.

When Hyunjin wasn’t in the dance studio with Eunbyeol, he spent the rest of his time in the art studio covered in paint from head to toe. Even now he knew he needed to shower and wash his hair well because he accidentally got some blue in it earlier. As long as images and colors and art left his fingertips, he didn’t care what medium he used. Pencils, oils, markers, Hyunjin loved it all.

“Hyunjin-ah...” Minho’s tired voice came from the other side of the couch. “Will you pass me my water?”

“Sure, Hyung.” Hyunjin glanced around and found Minho’s distinctive yellow water bottle on the floor under the coffee table. He passed it to his friend wordlessly.

“Is Felix here with the coffee yet? I’m exhausted.” Minho let out a long yawn and didn’t open his eyes to take a drink of his water.

“Do you see any coffee?” Changbin’s eyes were also starting to droop. “Felix and Jisung have been gone for almost an hour. I’m gonna kill them.”

“Jisung has been trapped in this studio since lunch. I’m jealous that he’s even getting a break.” Chan spoke up from his place at the computer. He lowered his headphones to rest around his neck.

“Why don’t you take one, Hyung?” Minho suggested. “Hyunjin needs a little more time to look over the music before his turn in the studio, right? For the love of all that is holy, go take a walk. Use the bathroom. Step out into the sun for a few seconds before it sets completely. Touch some grass.”

“Touch some grass-” Chan muttered along with Minho, “You know I’d love to do that but-”

“The work comes first. Got it, got it.”

“Once Hyunjin and Felix have their turns in the studio then I can finally finish piecing this song together.” Chan explained.

“Wait, Seungmin and Jeongin have already been here?” Changmin looked up from his sheet music. “I didn’t see them today.”

“Yeah, we popped into the studio last night for two hours or so. Seungmin really only needed one take but we took three of them. He was really adamant.” Chan chuckled at the thought, clicking through a few pages and pulling up his recording. “This was his first take.”

Seungmin’s airy, romantic voice filled the studio. The raw vocals filled the room and Hyunjin’s eyes widened at the sound. Seungmin, as usual, was a powerhouse. He sang the words beautifully and without a single error. Even his breathing sounded perfect. He only had a few lines, so the recording was over too quickly. Once it ended, all of the boys applauded even though no one was there to hear them.

“Jeez, and he wanted two more takes?” Minho gasped out.

“He wanted four but I made him go home.” Chan grinned.

“Where did we find this kid, again?” Changnbin’s question was rhetorical but Chan answered anyway.

“He was part of Jisung’s friend group in high school. Pretty much all of Jisung’s friends are just as talented.”

“You say that as if we’re not all friends now.” Hyunjin chuckled, smiling fondly at the thought of the friendships he had with each of the younger boys, including Felix.

“I know, I know. We won’t be friends for much longer though if Jisung and Felix don’t get here soon with that coffee and my refresher. I’m dying here.” Chan sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, letting it take all of his weight. “I’m gonna call him.”

Chan grabbed his phone from the desk and called Jisung. The boys sat in silence, listening to the phone ring for a few seconds. Jisung didn’t answer, so Chan called him again all while muttering profanities under his breath. Once again, no answer.

Hyunjin took the opportunity to check and see if Felix had texted him. His phone screen lit up when he pressed the button and he had to fight a smile at the sight of his background picture. It was a simple one that he’d taken with Eunbyeol several months ago during cherry blossom season. They’d walked through the park for hours, drinking coffee, snacking on candy, and taking hundreds of pictures together. In this one, she smiled brightly up at the camera and Hyunjin had his chin atop the crown of her head with an equally bright smile on his face. Even though it had been months, he didn’t have the heart to change it. She looked so pretty.

He had to shake his head to look at his phone properly, but it didn’t matter because Felix hadn’t texted him since this morning, apologizing for being late to class. Hyunjin shot him a quick ‘Where the fuck are you?’ text before checking his other notifications. Felix may not have texted him however, his other best friend had. Judging from the time stamp, she hadn’t even made it home yet before texting him. He cursed himself for not checking his phone earlier, but he responded eagerly to her message. He knew they’d see each other the next afternoon, but he missed her already.

“Chan-hyung, quit blowing up my phone!” Jisung’s loud, whiny voice filled the studio as he pushed into the room with his hands weighed down with drink carriers. “God, I know I’m popular but even popular people need a break sometimes.”

“What is he talking about?” Changbin rolled his eyes.

“Well,” Felix followed Jisung into the room, also carrying a drink carrier in each hand. “First, I was talking his ear off, then he was on the phone with his girlfriend for over half an hour, then Chan-hyung was calling him while he was still on the phone... I think he’s overwhelmed.”

“The coffee was taking forever!” Changbin argued. “I mean, look! Chan is almost asleep and Minho is practically dead! Is that what you want? To kill Minho-hyung?”

“Relax, it wasn’t my fault!” Jisung argued back with a huff. “The cafe was already busy and then we had to order six coffees. My poor coworkers. Didn’t inspire me enough to jump behind the counter, though.”

“I can vouch for him.” Felix offered, setting his drink carriers on the coffee table and sliding into the space on the couch between Hyunjin and Minho.

“You’re not innocent in this either!” Jisung pointed an accusatory finger at the boy, who cowered behind Hyunjin’s lean form. “You wouldn’t shut up about that girl! What are we? In a K-drama? In high school? Get it together!”

“‘That girl’?” Changbin’s ears perked up at the mere mention of some gossip. “Do tell!”

“Please, don’t make me listen again! Put me out of my misery!” Jisung wailed, throwing himself into a beanbag chair next to Changbin as dramatically as possible, careful not to spill any coffee. “That's all he talked about for like thirty minutes. I thought we were done with her!”

“Who?” Hyunjin’s curiosity got the best of him.

“Um, well...” Felix’s freckled cheeks were suddenly tinged a shade darker and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Remember that night we all got drunk and I cried about never seeing my first love again?”

“I think I blacked out, but go on.” Minho encouraged.

“The night Hyunjin cried about his crush? How could I forget?” Changbin cackled.

“Well, I thought I would never see her again because I thought she went to medical school. Except she didn’t. She's here!”

“What?” Hyunjin blinked in surprise. “Wow, that’s incredible! What a small world! How did you find out?”

“Honestly, it’s miraculous.” Felix sat forward to grab his coffee from the table. Chan’s eyes widened as he watched the younger boy take a drink, but hung onto his every word regardless. Felix on coffee was always a sight to see. “We’re taking a class together.”

“Wait, really?” Chan lifted an eyebrow.

“Not only that, but there’s a pairs project over the course of the entire semester!” Felix began to bounce. First, it was just one of his legs. Then both of his legs. Before Hyunjin knew it, it was like Felix’s entire body was actually vibrating right before his eyes. “And I’m her partner!”

“Disgusting.” Jisung wrinkled his nose. “I don’t get why you’re so excited when she rejected you in high school and blatantly ignored you during senior year.”

“Wait, she rejected you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get rejected.” Hyunjin blinked in surprise, but something ugly settled in the pit of his stomach. He witnessed everything in class but he hadn’t heard Felix’s side of the story.

“Yeah...” Felix sighed sadly for a moment before perking right back up. “I know, I feel crazy for being so excited about it.”

“She treated you like crap.” Jisung rolled his eyes.

“I know! And I thought I was going to hate being in this class with her, but I just texted her earlier to ask her when she wants to meet up to look at scenes to do together or figure out the rest of the assignment. But... like... wow...” Felix paused to take another sip of his coffee. “The second I got a text back from her... like, is my heart supposed to be beating this fast?”

Hyunjin really didn’t like where this was going.

“You’re drinking coffee.” Minho deadpanned.

“I know, but like... is it weird that I’m looking forward to it?”

“Yes!” Jisung exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air. “You’re absolutely batshit crazy! You heard Jiho! She thinks you’re crazy, too!”

“Jiho knows her, too?” Chan blinked in surprise. Normally, talking about girls wasn’t his favorite subject, but Hyunjin figured he was using this as an excuse not to stare at his computer for a bit.

“Yeah, she’s Jiho’s roommate.” Jisung waved off the question as if the answer was obvious. “So like, if Jiho says you’re crazy to see her best friend of five goddamn years, then you’re insane. Chan-hyung, call the nearest insane asylum! We’re losing him!”

“God, you and Hyunjin are both girl-crazy.” Changbin rolled his eyes. “You’ve both got heart-eyes for girls who are completely unattainable.”

“Hey, Hyunjin’s at least got a pretty good chance with his girl.” Jisung muttered exasperatedly. It was Hyunjin’s turn to blush at the phrasing. He liked the sound of that... his girl. “They’re actually friends.”

“That’s true but...” Felix paused and Hyunjin’s heart stopped beating in his chest. “In the class, we have to do a trust exercise each week. We have to work together all semester! That’s something, right?”

“Lee Felix, I am putting the asylum on speed dial!” Jisung made a huge show of holding his phone up while he searched for a phone number. “Chan-hyung, I can’t fucking listen to this right now. Set me up, I’m gonna record my verse again.”

With that, Jisung stood and disappeared into the recording studio. Chan flashed Felix a grin before turning back to his computer to set things up to record for Jisung. Hyunjin watched his friend retreat. On one hand, he wanted to know what this girl did to Felix but on the other hand he was happy not knowing a thing. If Hyunjin was right in his suspicions, things were about to get really awkward.

Despite sitting up and away from him, Felix’s leg pressed firmly into Hyunjin’s. Felix’s hands clenched and released, desperate to hold onto something or someone. Minho, an unsuspecting victim, jumped when Felix grabbed his knee and squeezed. At this rate, Hyunjin expected Felix to simply vibrate out of his clothes. Felix, when they first met, was generally extroverted and excited about everything. When Hyunjin bought him tickets to a Twice concert, Felix had collapsed in tears and he jumped and danced through the entire concert without stopping. When their group of friends took a weekend in Jeju over the summer break, Hyunjin wondered if Felix’s face hurt from smiling so much. Excited Felix was a force to be reckoned with. But this... this level of anxiety and excitement was like nothing Hyunjin had ever seen before.

When Felix’s phone vibrated in his lap, he practically leapt through the ceiling. Minho cussed under his breath at the sudden jolt and Hyunjin jerked away so as not to be hit with a stray elbow. Felix’s hands shook as he tapped the screen and he let out an audible groan when he saw the notification. Hyunjin pulled his lip between his teeth and pretended not to steal a glance at his friend’s phone. Playing the part of a concerned friend, Hyunjin leaned forward and slung an arm around Felix’s shoulders. Felix gratefully leaned into him as he read the text. Hyunjin’s eyes glanced over the screen and found his worst fear to be true.

[Pretty Eunbyeol: Fine, whatever, I have maybe an hour after class on Tuesday. Don’t wait up.]

Hyunjin tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Felix’s eyes were wide with wonder as he stared down at his phone. Hyunjin glanced at his own phone when it lit up from a text from the very girl they were talking about. From the very girl texting Felix now.

Felix’s first love.

Hyunjin tried to find solace in the fact that most of the time first loves never worked out, but it wasn’t as reassuring as he’d hoped. Because, at this rate, he’d be shooting himself in the foot. He wasn’t sure he’d ever cared for anyone the way he cared for Eunbyeol. What if she was his first love, too?

“How do I respond to that?” Felix glanced around him at the boys in search of any advice.

“Hate to break it to you, but you don’t.” Changbin shrugged, taking a long sip from his iced americano. “Wait until next week and text her the morning of to confirm the plans. That’s the next move.”

“But-” Felix’s eyes shimmered with hope but Changbin wasn’t having it.

“No! No buts. Jisung literally just told you that she doesn’t like you. And you have to respect that, yeah? Leave her alone.”

Felix pouted and turned back to his phone screen. The exchange between him and Eunbyeol was short, under five lines of text, but it was the most they’d ever been in direct contact like this. Now he actually had physical proof that they’d spoken. He shook his head and stuck his phone back into his pocket. It was like he was a teenager all over again. His heart pounded in his ears and his mouth went dry at the thought of seeing her.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, leaned back on the couch and strategically angled his phone so Felix couldn’t see. He opened the extensive conversation between him and Eunbyeol and smiled when he saw her newest text to him. It was short, sweet, to the point, and made Hyunjin’s heart explode with butterflies. As he scanned the words over and over again, his anxiety about Felix liking her reduced a little. It didn’t matter that they had history or that Felix had feelings. The only thing that mattered was that Eunbyeol’s attention was on him.

[Partner in Crime: Hyunjinnie~ I miss you! Come over tomorrow after practice?]

Hyunjin agreed to those plans without hesitation, figuring he could cancel anything he might have had. A small smile crept onto his lips and he had a feeling that good things were in store.

After all, at the end of the day, she was his partner.

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xgummibearx · 2 years ago

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Sick day pt2

Aizawa x (F) reader

Intro: So, ya’ll really liked this one! I have had some requests for a part two so here you go! I was hoping to have this for Valentine’s day but you know what? Not everyone is able to celebrate that day so let’s work around that. summary: After taking care of Aizawa, he wants to make things up to you.

Warnings: None, tooth rotting FLUFF.

---

“You sure you will be okay?” (--) asked, puling up to the dorms. Aizawa nodded, undoing his seatbelt.

“Yes, I’m still a little under the weather...Nezu has me practically court ordered to rest for the rest of the week.” He sighed. “All Might is covering home room for the time being so I’m gonna have to deal with the aftermath of him spoiling them...” Aizawa added, looking a little extra unamused at the thought. (--) smirked.

“Well, I think you’re a little tough one them sometimes...you have an amazing class.” She smiled gently. “Those kids have a lot of respect for you, you should be proud.” Shota bowed his head politely as he opened the door.

“You have a point there...but still, if these are going to be heroes they need to know now what’s at stake, the pressure will only increase as they move forward.” (--) reached over to take his hand.

“I think you forget how much these kids have gone through.” She turned her head a little, trying to meet his eyes. He looked so lost in thought, and even he was too tired to hide the worry in his face. “Those kids have seen more in their first semester as students than most heroes see on patrol in their first year.” He chuckled.

“You got a point there too.” He looked over. “It’s selfish but...I suppose my own worries cloud my judgement.” Shouta got out of the car and stretched a little. “I guess I really do need the time off.”

(--) couldn’t help but laugh, starting up her car. “No one needs this more than you.” She waved to him, pulling away to leave him staring at the back of the car.

---

The weather was chilly, and (--) could see the students whispering. Love was in the air, and valentine’s day was approaching. Pink and red were everywhere, even some of the teachers were talking about plans for the big day. (--) however, didn’t have much on her mind as the day drew nearer, and she eventually found herself alone in her apartment that night.

She poured herself some tea, gently inhaling the fragrance as she wrapped herself up in a warm knitted cardigan. Soft music played from her laptop as she finished her tea and fell asleep in her cozy living room. Peaceful, and content.

It had been nearly a week since she had helped Aizawa in the hallway when she heard a somewhat familiar, hesitant soft tap on her office door. She didn’t look up from her notes just yet, spinning around in her chair. “Midoriya, I am afraid that Recovery Girl isn’t due back from her break for a few more minutes but I’m sure I can-” She looked up, raising her brows. It wasn’t the familiar sight of Izuku but rather, Shouta. “Oh! Hello!” She smiled, putting down her notebook. A small flutter of excitement rippled in her stomach. Why was she so excited to see him? She wondered for a moment but it was swiftly forgotten as he stepped in, holding something behind his back. “You know I admit I am relived to report that I have not seen Midoriya for a few weeks now, I think it might be a new record.” He chuckled softly.

“He’s come a long way.” Shouta shifted to the side, still not revealing what was behind his back. He swallowed the lump in his throat, the now likely crumpled roses behind his back felt clammy from his sweaty palms. “Speaking of your...well, remedial skills...” He tried to stand a little straighter. “I, wanted to thank you again for all your help and well.” He handed her the roses, pink and white. They looked so delicate in comparison to his rough hands. “And with these comes a question.” He took a quick deep breath as (--) carefully took the roses. “Would you allow me the pleasure of taking you out for dinner tonight? Nezu...well, is allowing me to teach but has still requested I refrain from night patrols for another week...” (--) smiled, standing up with the roses in hand.

She leaned over, giving him a small kiss on the cheek. “I would love that.” He stood a little too stiffly, silently lifting his goggles to his eyes in hopes that it would hide his face. (--) giggled, leaning a little closer. “You look a little red...are you sure you’re no longer feverish?” He cleared his throat.

“I am not.”

#fic #fanfic #aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha fluff

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broadraiwrites · 2 months ago

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No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” Characters: Spike Trivet, Charlotte James (oc) Pairing: None Verse: Main ( Twitter timelines ) Mentions: Sadie Cullen (oc) Christian Cage

He shouldn't be there. He knew it wasn't a good idea to be standing outside her office after everything that she had done to the man that he considered a father figure, but Spike Trivet couldn’t stop himself. His chest was so tight he felt as though his own ribs were going to be what caved in his lungs. He knew precisely what this feeling was; he had felt it a thousand times before, and over those years he knew exactly where he could go and where he would be his safest to express his feelings. He always knew that the office of Charlotte James was going to be a safe haven for him in the height of his hypochondria.

He assumed that this particular bout with his anxiety disorder was brought on by the birth of his son Arthur just hours before. Having a new baby in the home, his mind was so much more aware of all of the germs that could possibly bring harm to his young child, and it made absolutely everything in him feel as if his very being was spinning off its axis. He knocked lightly on the door, as he had thousands of times in the years they had known each other, but something just felt incredibly different this time. He felt like this was the start of a betrayal he didn't want to have to make. "Charlotte?” He cursed his own voice for sounding like a sheepish child afraid to bother their mother.

“Come on in, sugar,” Charlie called from her spot on the other side of the office, where she was trying to refill a few small drawers with supplies that she would need for the rest of the night. "I was wondering if I was goin’ to see you or if certain people were goin’ to keep you away from me.”

“You knew it was me?” Spike asked in surprise.

“I know your voice by now, sugar; of course I knew it was you. When you're like this, just like when I'm upset, you're accent gets particularly thick when you're having a hard time of it. What's goin’ on, darlin’?” the small Texan blonde asked, turning her wheelchair to face him.

Spike took a deep breath, trying to steady his heart that he felt was ready to beat out of his chest before his gaze fell on the blonde in the room for the first time since he had walked in. “I'm sure that you heard that my Sadie gave birth yesterday to our son, Arthur. I know that I am needed, but I'm not so sure that it is wise to be this far away from her and from them so soon after she has given birth. His immune system hasn't formed yet, and I don't want to take the risk of bringing something back to him that his little body isn't used to and perhaps wouldn't have encountered back home. You know how germs can be different in different areas.”

Charlie reached out to take the younger man's hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “You're goin’ to do just fine, y’know,” she told him gently. “I know that being a new parent is a scary thing, especially when you didn't have the greatest role models growing up. I know I was terrified when I had my Ollie. He's going to be just fine. The fact that you're worried about what might happen to him shows that you are already a better father than yours was.”

“My condition,” Spike chose his words carefully, “doesn't deal well in times of high stress; I'm sure you've noticed by now.” he let out an almost bitter laugh. His right hand squeezed tightly on the head of the cane that he was leaning on. He always felt strange using it in her office because he wasn't using it as a true mobility aid but more as a fashion statement and a statement of power, but it was a comfort item for him in moments like these. “If he finds out that I've been here, he's going to have my head,” he added with a sigh.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to tell him that would be breaking patient confidentiality. So unless you tell him, I don't know exactly how he would find out, seeing as there's no one else anywhere near the office right now. If I can be totally honest with you, sugar, I don't care if he finds out either. I don't care what he thinks of me anymore. I know you've got it in your head somehow that you need him but you never have, and if he's going to try to stop me from doing my job and try to stop me from taking care of someone that I have taken care of for years, that's his problem.” She guided him over to a chair in the corner of the room, using only the motion of her chair to suggest his own movements.

Spike slumped down into the leather chair without a word, allowing the tip of the beak of his bird skull-adorned cane to collide with the brick wall beside him, the noise shaking him from his thoughts. “I need to pull myself together,” he spoke, almost angrily, “but my mind is already so emotionally spent.”

“I’ll get you a glass of water for now,” Charlie spoke up, already moving to fill a disposable cup for him. “You relax; take as much time as you need. We aren’t even goin’ live with Zero Hour for a bit yet, so you don’t need to worry about call time anytime soon. I can get Jill to get you access to a quiet room if you need it, if I need to see anyone else before you’re ready. We can give Sadie a call. It’s only, what? Ten or eleven there?”

“Can I just stay with you for now?” Spike asked in the same small voice that had called her name a few minutes earlier.

Charlie smiled softly. “Of course you can. I can also make you a cup of tea if you want?” I keep a little bit in my office in case I need a little extra push to get through the more painful nights. I may not have a kettle, but I do have a Keurig,” she laughed lightly.

“Charlotte, even in my current state, I would never dream of such an abomination,” Spike shook his head with a smile, “but thank you—for everything.”

#whumptober2024

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aztecbrujeria · 2 years ago

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Birds of Paradise: WW2 Pilot Toji x F!Nurse

I am so excited to share this piece with everyone for @hisgoodpuppy first collab celebrating their 500 followers! You can find the wonderful collab and writers for the In Time Collab here! Congrats my dear and hope you enjoy!!!

Side note: I'm sorry this took so long alot has happened since then but I offer my first chapter in this series!!!!

Here is a playlist I made to inspire while I write this series.

**Special thanks to @izzycrow1 on TwT for my Toji Commission! They are open for Comms so please feel free to DM! Please do not repost!**

Summary: Its the time when the world as we know it was plunged into conflict fighting for freedoms of countries that were allies. Here on the front lines of the North African desert you are embroiled in the art of battlefield nursing and helping with the most harrowing of jobs. Far away from your Californian coast thrust upon the distant lands you come across a soldier who isn't quiet like you expected. Is it here that you let yourself follow your heart or will the Americana past time keep you two apart.

@tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi

WC Chapter 1: 5.1k

TW: Pilot Toji, F! Latina Nurse, subtle tones of racism, Time and place of WW2, War, themes of blood/gore, Helplessness, Mental Health, Violence, Death,

“An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, and circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle. But it will never break.”

- Ancient Chinese Proverb

Northern Africa 1941

The sound of the roaring plane sliced through the sky as it twisted and turned, attempting to shake off its tail from the enemy. Suddenly, the cockpit was hit by a piercing ricochet of bullets, triggering the alarms to cry out.

The pilot's voice shouted through the airwaves, "SHIT!! MAYDAY, MAYDAY! FUSHIGURO!?"

In response, command screamed over the airwaves in response.

"I'M GOING DOWN THE DIRTY KRAUTS ARE ON MY RIGHT!"

Desperately, the pilot cranked the steering, spinning and diving to evade the enemy's fire. However, he suddenly realized that a bullet had pierced straight through his shoulder. With a fierce determination, he used the strength of ten men to pull the steering with his uninjured arm, flying straight up before turning around to begin his descent towards the German's plane.

As he steered his plane with one hand, he urgently cried out, "MAYDAY, MAYDAY! I'M IN THE MOROCCAN DESERT FIND ME!! I'M TAKING THIS PLANE OUT!"

The pilot quickly checked his parachute and blew open the cockpit lid as he pulled the release, throwing himself from the plane. Freefalling towards the earth, he watched with satisfaction as his plane smashed into the enemies plane, taking it out. Finally, he pulled the cord to his chute and gently descended to the ground.

As he landed in the Moroccan desert, the pilot could see planes in the distance approaching the endless golden ochre dunes.

*****

As you huddled in the medic tent, bracing against the relentless desert winds, your focus was fixed on the injured soldier lying before you.

“Doc! I need you, NOW!”

You shouted urgently, beckoning the bloodied physician over to help staunch the bleeding.With sweat pouring down your face, you wiped it away with the back of your arm and took a deep breath, determined to save this soldier’s life.

Just as you reached for the dwindling supplies of hemostats, a clatter echoed in the distance. Turning to investigate, you saw one of the new nurses standing frozen, staring at the blood on her hands.

“I c-can’t…What am I…”

She stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Without hesitation, you marched over to her and slapped her across the face.

“Not here, not now,” you barked, your voice firm and commanding.

“We need you. Get yourself together.”

The nurse looked at you, her curls falling into her eyes as she spoke in a trembling voice, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her steady.

“Yes, you can,” you said firmly. “We’re all scared, but we have a job to do. We can’t give up now.”

“I know you’re scared, I know this is so much…death, but they need you. I need you, okay?”

Her eyes filled with understanding and determination.

“Good, now pick up the tray and put the tools into the boiling pot to sterilize.” She nodded and went about her task, “When you get them in, head over and switch with triage, I need them back here to help with surgery.”

She stopped turning white, “I need the strength.” You simply stated, knowing you were about to help a man lose his leg, “We only have so much morphine, please hurry.” She quickly turned to find the triage nurse.

As you tried to catch your breath and take a moment to collect yourself, you were jolted by the sound of shouting coming from the cot at your right.

“Bangō! Kare wa dokoda, Megumi!...Watashi no musuko wa dokodesu ka!” the man shouted, his deep voice booming with each word.

You couldn’t understand him, but the desperation in his voice was palpable. You quickly made your way over to him hoping to calm him down and figure out what was wrong.

But before you could even utter a word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to the ground, holding a small knife to your throat. Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to keep your composure.

From behind the surgery screen, a nurse started screaming, “HEY! GET OFF HER!” But you knew you had to handle this delicately.

“He’s Shell Shocked!” You called out, trying to soothe the man. “Let me talk him down.”

With the knife pressed against your throat, you carefully slid your hand up to place it over his, hoping to calm him and defuse the situation. You could feel the edge of the blade pressing into your skin, but you refused to let fear take over. You had a job to do, and you were determined to see it through.

“You are injured, sir. Let me help you,” you felt the blade prick your flesh.

Inhaling with a hiss, you pleaded, “Sir, please, let me help you.”

You grabbed his wrist and watched as his emerald eyes, swirling with bloodlust and confusion, became clear with the understanding that you were no threat. The blade lifted from your throat, and you cupped his cheek, distracting him enough for the nurse behind him to shove a needle into his arm to put him out.

“That should get him back under so we can move him back to the cot,” the nurse said as another, less injured, soldier helped her move his large frame to let him sleep. Sitting up, you looked at him until a bloodcurdling scream echoed above the other groans and screams from the hoard of patients..

You didn't have time to check on him, nor did you have time to breathe. You were summoned to cut off the leg of a man who wouldn't make it. You grabbed the hand of the other nurse and both of you headed towards the surgery partition, swallowing hard and pushing your own chaotic mind aside to continue with your duties.

*****

Finally, the patient’s screaming stopped, and they passed out from the pain.

“It's always better when they pass out,” you thought to yourself, feeling both relieved and guilty at the same time.

Sitting in the middle of the medic tent, you let out an exhausted sigh, the sounds of moans and whimpers filling the air. The distant sounds of shells and bullets, with roars from planes, made it difficult to think clearly. Your hands, stained with the blood of your patients, rested upon the soiled uniform you wore.

The limits of devastation had been reached for the day, and you shut off your emotions, running only on instinct.

“Hey, why don’t you head to quarters, I’ll take first rounds,” your comrade suggested, touching your shoulder to bring you back to reality. “Yeah, thanks, I need…”

You struggled to find the words, feeling drained and overwhelmed. You stumbled out of the medic tent and walked until you were far enough to scream, letting the winds of the desert carry your heartbreak away.

You didn’t know when you had gotten to your quarters or when you made it to the showers. The water turned cold, but you could care less, watching the blood from the day wash down the drain. Your thick waves curtained your face, and your eyes brimmed with hot tears from the utter annihilation of war.

Weeping silently, you let the horrors rack your body so you could stifle it for another day. The guilt, the pain, and the sorrow all ate away at you, but you knew you had to keep going.

Wearing a clean linen dress with a handwoven pattern from your abuela adorning the edges, you left your wavy tresses down to dry as the jade pendant from your parents hung on a leather strap around your neck. Despite bone exhaustion calling you to bed, you couldn't resist one final check on your comrade at the medic tent.

You grabbed a few charts, checked the notes, fixed a few dressings, and placed new cool compresses atop a soldier's forehead.

“You never take a break, do you?” Your comrade teased as you bent over to clean up a bedpan.

“Hey, I’m serious, go to bed. We’ll see you once you get some rest.” With a roll of your eyes and a lopsided grin, you handed the bedpan over and replied, “Fine, alright, alright, I’m going. Let me just check on our shell-shocked soldier, okay?” Your comrade sighed, nodding towards the cot at the end of the row, “Then off to bed, that’s an order.”

You winked at them and headed towards the soldier. Picking up his chart, you read the notes while fiddling with your pendant.

Suddenly, the soldier began to stir and called out the name “Megumi” in a pained voice, his face contorting with fear. You sat down next to him, placing a cool compress on his forehead while watching him with deep concern as his face contorted with fear; or was it something else like sorrow.

As you placed the cool cloth on his forehead, you finally took a moment to really look at the soldier from earlier. He had a strong jawline and a sleek nose, with thick raven lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. His dark olive skin and faded scar above his lips caught your attention, and you noticed his midnight hair could use a trim. He was breathtaking.

As you looked at the soldier, he reminded you of a forbidden love from childhood. You were transported back to the moment when your father caught you kissing Mr. Itadori’s son Jin.

Your father had yelled, "¡¿QUE ESTAS HACIENDO!? You aren't allowed to do that! What if you got in trouble from La Senora?! What is your mother going to say?"

But now, as you thought back on that memory, a small smile spread across your face. It was a funny memory, one that you hadn't thought about in years. The soldier's features brought back memories of Jin, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia.

Your hand moved on its own, and you found yourself tracing the scar on the soldier’s lips. You admired his cupid’s bow, but a soft breeze rustling his gear at the top of the cot diverted your attention.

When the soldier’s lips frowned and whispered “Megumi,” you stilled, hoping not to disturb him. You carefully slipped out a stack of letters from his pack and found a picture of a small boy and a breathtaking woman in a kimono on top of the worn letters stained with blood.

Your fingers traced the small smile of the baby being held by its mother. You smiled, hoping they knew their husband and father lay safe for the time being. Upon studying the photo’s details, you saw clear, stylistic handwritten letters that read “Megumi” with strange symbols next to it on the back. Your heart lifted for just a moment, seeing the corners of the photo so worn with the fading smiles.

As you looked back at the soldier, you found his verdant eyes staring back into your own October eyes.

“Nanishiteruno?”

As his large, calloused hand gripped your wrist, you felt his fingers entirely encapsulate it with strong digits that bore worn ink upon his knuckles that read “M-E-G-S”.

You looked back at him with pleading eyes, “I-I’m sorry. I was looking for a way to help you.”

His eyes swirled, glowing against the pale lights of the lanterns as he registered your accented English.

“Didn’t anyone teach you not to touch things that aren’t yours?” Inhaling a quick breath, his thick baritone voice washed over you, causing your flesh to become raised, striking a deep chord within you.

“Y-yes, I’m sorry señor, you kept calling out a name…I just wanted to ease your mind.”

As he took in your thick midnight waves, tucked behind your ear, the way the low light played off your rich caramel skin made his breath hitch. He was mesmerized by your raven eyelashes, drawing his gaze towards your endless chocolate irises.

He saw kindness and deep sadness mixing together, drawing him in like a siren’s song. The way your natural rouge dusted your cheeks and matched your full pouting lips made his body begin to hum.

He watched as your hand reached up and grasped the jade pendant hanging from your neck, and his eyes widened seeing the small nick upon your throat still red.

Without thinking, he reached out and touched you as you backed up slightly, “Did I do that?” His voice was raw, filled with regret and sorrow, and he dropped his hand back down before he sat up and hissed in pain.

You quickly reached forward to help him sit up and steadied him, causing the flutter of his letters and photo to drop to the floor below. He looked down and saw the worn memory staring back at him.

“Did you read anything good?” You clicked your tongue with concern as he hunched over, and his groan of pain became louder.

“No, I didn’t even open them, besides I only saw the picture. You have a beautiful family.” As you looked at the man, you saw a small, quiet smile flash across his features before he cursed under his breath, wincing.

“Eso es, es suficiente, you need to let me look at your wound and clean it up.”

Toji snaps a look at you, "I'm fine."

You roll your eyes and, with a thicker Spanish accent, say, "You pinche men, I will not talk back. Now, open your shirt, and let's get you cleaned up. I am a nurse, after all."

Toji smirks and chuckles at you, delighted that you are strong and know how to make your point known.

"Fine, you win," as he feels your hand placed gently on his broad back, helping him sit farther on the edge of the cot. When you let go, he can still feel the warmth of your hand on his back.

As you stand and pull your long tresses to the side, deftly braiding them to keep them out of your face, Toji can't help but feel a flutter in the pit of his stomach. You're unlike any woman he's ever seen before.

He studies the line of your nose, the curve of your cheekbones, and the furrow in your brow that speaks to your concern. But what really captures his attention is the texture of your skin, which glimmers in the light of the tent like magic. It's like the finest silk, with a deep bronze tone that sets you apart from everyone else in the room.

Toji can't help but admire you, drinking in the sight of your exotic features and the way you move with a natural grace. He knows he shouldn't stare, but he can't help it. There's just something about you that draws him in, something he can't quite put his finger on.

For a moment, it makes him miss the love he lost so long ago, and he frowns before he feels your fingers undo the buttons to his filthy uniform. You feel your face begin to heat up from the blush that flashed upon your cheeks before you quickly shake it off.

Finally opening his uniform, you see the cuts and bruises caked in dried sand and blood, and your eyes fill with sadness at the bullet hole. You click your tongue, upset that he had to wait this long before getting cleaned up. Internally toiling like you had let him suffer, you start mumbling in Spanish, admonishing yourself for not helping sooner. Toji sees the flare of anger in your eyes before they are overcome with compassion. In so many years, he has never been compelled toward another woman, yet here you are, pulling him into your kindness.

Assessing the bruises and wounds, turning to the empty tub by bedside, "I'm going to grab some antiseptic and more bandages. We need to clean these wounds, and you need stitches on your left shoulder. You've been shot clean through, and you're lucky that's all on the outside. You might have a small fever later." Toji moves, and he gasps from the shooting pain that runs from his injured shoulder to his ribs.

Hearing his gasp of pain you catch him hugging his right set of ribs, "I think those are broken. We're going to need to wrap those too." You sigh in annoyance of your oversight of his care.

Smiling, Toji watches the way you turn and head towards the supplies. He can’t help but chuckle as he sees you muttering under your breath at yourself.

The sway of your hips makes your dress swish with your movements, showing your muscular calves down to your dainty feet in a pair of the most colorful sandals he's ever seen. More and more, he wants to touch you and get to know you.

Toji runs his fingers through his hair and scrubs down his face, saying to himself, "Get yourself together... She's helping you."

When you returned to Toji with fresh supplies, your eyes were drawn to the sight of him standing up from where he had been seated. You hadn't quite realized just how tall he was until this moment; he towered over you with ease, his muscular arm moving to his side to steady himself as he slipped off his destroyed uniform.

As he shed the damaged garment, you caught sight of something that made your heart skip a beat: a colorful display of ink that covered his skin in intricate patterns. The design ran across his broad shoulders and down the expanse of his back, disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants.

You couldn't help but stare in wonder at the sight, your eyes tracing the curves and lines of the tattoo with fascination. It was clear that this was no ordinary design; it spoke of a rich cultural heritage and a dedication to tradition that you found deeply compelling.

For a moment, you forgot about the task at hand, lost in the beauty of the ink and the man who wore it. It was only when he caught you staring that you snapped back to reality, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Toji smirked at you, clearly amused by your reaction. "Are there more scratches, nurse?" he asked, his tone teasing.

You shook your head, trying to push aside the distracting thoughts about Toji's ink. "I've seen worse, siéntate por favor," you said, motioning for him to sit down so you could tend to his injuries.

As you moved closer to him, he couldn't resist making a comment. "I can see you enjoying this. Are you a sadist?" he joked, though his laughter quickly turned to a grimace of pain.

You smiled slightly at his discomfort, grateful for the distraction from your own racing thoughts. "Not a sadist, just doing my job," you replied, setting down the tray of supplies and stepping between his long legs.

You tapped his thigh, urging him to open his legs a little wider so you could more easily access his upper body. As you reached for a clean apron to tie around your waist, you felt his gaze on you, and you couldn't help but feel self-conscious.

Trying to remain professional, you focused on your work, doing your best to ignore the way his eyes lingered on your silhouette.

It wasn't until later, when you were alone with your thoughts, that you allowed yourself to wonder what he might have been thinking, and whether his interest in you went beyond a mere physical attraction.

Toji's gaze followed your every movement as you tended to his wounds with expert care. He couldn't help but feel drawn to you, admiring the way you handled the task with such precision and gentleness. As your scarred hands reached into the hot water for a clean cloth, he couldn't help but wonder what had caused those marks. He found himself mesmerized by the flecks of gold in your eyes, as if he was looking into the depths of the sun itself.

He winced at the pain of your first touch, but soon relaxed as you washed away the filth from his face. The sound of your humming filled the tent, calming his nerves and making him feel strangely at ease. He couldn't help but wonder what else you were capable of, and what it would be like to have you as his own personal medic.

As you began to work your way down his torso, he felt his body temperature rise, but it wasn't from a fever. He couldn't resist the urge to grab onto your hips, using them to steady himself as you tended to his wounds. He knew it was inappropriate, but he couldn't help himself. He felt a surge of desire course through him, making him ache for you in ways he had never experienced before.

When you hesitated at his touch, he felt a pang of disappointment. He didn't want to scare you away, but he couldn't deny the feelings that were stirring within him. He quickly apologized and promised to behave, but he knew that the desire he felt for you would never go away.

You were close enough you could see the striations of the veins under his beautiful skin as you washed what you could away. You could feel his heart begin to race as you got closer to him as you bent down to look at the opening of the bullet wound.

“I’m sorry for what you are about to feel. We’re low on pain medication, I’m so sorry.” You turned and reached for the alcohol before you looked back to see his hesitant eyes.

“Remember, don’t move your hands, okay breathe.”

His eyes widened and his fingers began to bruise you as he screamed profanities in Japanese, feeling the alcohol clean the area before you wiped away any debris out of the wound.

Grabbing a syringe of water flushing out the wound, feeling his digits splay out farther in your hips and grab onto you tighter. You had to stop yourself from moving your legs close together and felt the waves from your haphazard braid fall into your eyes.

Taking a deep breath you waited for him to release you. When he relaxed his hands dropped to his knees as you stood and reached for the thread and needle for the stitches that had been bathing in iodine.

You gave him one more look, “Again, I’m so sorry but we’re low on pain killers and I can’t get any until our next supply run. I’m so sorry, I’ll try and be quick.”

Before he could register why you were apologizing he felt the first puncture of the needle and pull of thread as you knotted the thread and moved on to the next one. He started his cursing under his breath again at each puncture of the needle and the knotting of the stitch. He could feel his skin pulling taught and knew you had a steady hand while knotting the fine thread. Toji didn’t know how long you had been there working on the opening when you had clipped the final stitch and turned to your cotton ball to swap some alcohol and ointment upon the closed wound. Toji could feel his body become heavy from the stress and could feel the deep aches and pains from his minor injuries begin to rack his body.

Eyeing his stitches you grabbed fresh bandages and set to placing them on the wound. Your fingertips skimmed the goosebumps that raised across his chest as you looked up and blew the stray curl from your eyes and smiled trying to lessen your own awkwardness. You thought the blush upon his cheeks was handsome and couldn’t help but quickly look away; you knew that he would tease you if he caught you staring. Clearing your mind to begin wrapping his chest, you noticed him slightly shaking, “Shit! He’s going into shock.”

“Hey, troublemaker, you can’t pass out on me now. I need to wrap your chest then you can lay down, okay? If you need to hold onto something you can hold onto me while I finish.” Quickly Toji reached out and once again held onto your hips, fingertips gripping tightly, you felt the butterflies in your stomach explode into your chest. Brushing off the butterflies so you could begin wrapping his chest, you couldn’t help but see the perspiration on his skin. “Chingados, He’s getting a fever.” You made quick work of wrapping up his ribs and pinning the last of the bandage. His head fell forward resting against your shoulder, you knew he had passed out, looking around you called your comrade to come and help lay him down.

Your fellow nurse helped you settle him and you sat finishing up the cleaning process and tucked him in. Moving to your chair you place the compress on his brow and sit watching the way he breathes and the sheen of sweat that was appearing on his brow. The doctor finally came over to check your work and also gave the order for an emergency shot of antibiotics for his fever. When you felt the exhaustion from the many hours of being awake and didn’t want to leave his side, he began to cry in his sleep whispering “Megumi”. Reaching out you took his hand and wiped his brow. It wasn’t long before you rested your head upon your arms on the cot, “Just need a quick nap.”

*****

Toji remembered the way you smelled like jasmine, honeysuckle, and firewood before he succumbed to slumber and a fever. He kept watching the mistakes he made as a father and the death of his wife replay behind his eyelids. He would come in and out of consciousness, but a small delicate hand was always there to wipe his brow and calm him down. He heard the smoothing lullaby of an ancient language fill his thoughts, slowly replacing the nightmares with loving memories of smiles and laughter. Toji felt safe for the first time in a long time as he finally awoke to the clearing image of the medic tent and the sounds of moans and cries on a hot day.

His mouth was parched, it felt like he had licked the dunes themselves, his lower body felt heavy. Groaning he sat up slowly, head slightly swimming, before he looked down to his lap to find you sleeping. He smiled watching the way the escaped waves from your braid blew out of your face when you breathed, the way your lips parted with a soft moan, and the vice grip on a wet cloth in one hand while your other hand laid upon his thigh. He wasn’t sure what the feeling was in his chest, but he did know that he couldn’t control himself from reaching out to brush your hair behind your ear. “Funny you look like Yosei.” Another nurse came by making Toji snap his hand back.

“Oh, sir, I’m so sorry she refused to leave. You had a tough couple of nights there. She wanted to make sure that you weren’t alone; since you are like her in a way ya know.” Toji looked at the blond nurse with a slight sunburn on her nose and cheeks, “What do you mean, like her?”

He watched the nurse blush, “You know…different.” Toji could feel something like rage begin to boil and was about to make that blonde nurse cry when he felt you stir awake. “Mamá!” His eyes widened and he felt your panic as you shot up in your seat and looked around, he knew that look he knew he gave it too, he watched your glazed eyes finally snap to reality.

You sat and realized you had woken from a nightmare when you saw the look of shock on your comrades face and his eyes full of concern. You cleared your throat and fixed your hair, “I, umm, sorry about that. H-How are you feeling, I better get you some water.” He watched you stand, noticing you hadn’t changed your dress in a few days, and smiled as you pulled on your earlobe while you were nervous.

When you turned towards him with a fresh cup of water the blonde nurse decided to clear her throat, “You should really go get some rest in your barracks.” You nodded and smiled at her saying thank you.

Watching her lift her brow at you and satisfied with your answer she continued on her rounds. Muttering under your breath a string of curses you turned back to the soldier, “Okay, I better get going, also I need a name for your chart sir. You’ve been out long enough and I know you speak english now.” Toji finished his water and held the cup in his hands meeting your eyes, noticing they were the color of gold, “Your eyes change colors.”

Blushing at his observation, you cleared your throat, “Y-yes, but that’s for another time. Name flyboy.” You couldn’t contain the bright megawatt smile when you heard him laugh for the first time. It sounded like magic dripping from his tongue catching you in an undertow of wonder, “2nd lieutenant, Toji Fushiguro, Pilot; ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Toji bowed his head in respect, a habit from his culture, you blushed while feeling the goofy smile you had stayed upon your features.

“Umm, lo siento señor, d-do I bow back?” Toji began to chuckle, moving to brace his ribs, “O-Only if you want to.” He groaned with a small amount of pain before he felt your small hands on his, checking his bandaging, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I should leave you alone.”

He relaxed as you stood smiling, your thick waves in the messy braid hung off your shoulders as you bowed, “Encantado.” Toji liked the way your Spanish rolled off your tongue.

Standing you grabbed his chart, “Well, I better go, we’ll be in to check on you periodically and the Doc will want to do a more thorough examination to determine how long you’re with us before you ship back out to your regiment.”

He watched you turn and head back to the nurses station, smiling as he watched you tripped over the colorful sandals upon your small feet. He had never been more intrigued by you and also felt like something was missing when you left.

#husbando #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #spotify #fanfic #mdni #jjk #toji smut #toji x reader #toji x you #WW2 Pilot Toji x F!Nurse #Pilot Toji AU Series

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