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becomingmina · 3 months

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Fuckboy Min 3 (ENDING WITH HYUNE) - fluff & smut w/Hyunjin. 18+ only mdni.

{Part 1 here & Part 2 here }

The feeling doesn’t go away, it’s heavy it’s numbing your body. You pull away from Hyunjin’s lips, hands on his chest to help you detach. You can’t keep his eye contact, letting out a heavy breath.

"Hyune, I." you look up over his shoulder and catches Minho eyes as he leans in towards Bella.

Minho stops to observe you, observing your next move. For a second the world stops, everyone's face was blurred, the music goes from blaring loud to a long beep, something you hear when your brain restarts similar to the sound in movies when the main character watches someone close to them die. It was only you and Minho.

And just like the main character watched them died, you did the same with your love for Minho. Everything that had to do with loving Minho was drained from your head as you hold eye contact with him. His eyes carry so many regrets and guilt and you know he was taken back when your eyes flicker back to meet Hyunjin’s.

The feeling that was in your chest has now spread to your whole body. Instead of pushing it away like you always did, you accepted it and a chuckle falls from your lips. You had come to realise it was heart was falling for him the entire time and you have been innocently guarding it, unaware he was making you feel that way.

Hyunjin removed his hands from your waist, watching you converse with your own thoughts, assuming he must've of took it too far with the kiss.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have done that,” he apologised but you shook your head at him.

You stood on your tip toes, gripping the loose material on his waist to steady yourself and connected your lips onto his again. You were finally in the right head space to perceive his kiss. It was so angelic and tender, it was like your missing puzzle piece. It was making your stomach flip, you’re giggly, you were definitely feeling butterflies the whole time.

Memories with him start to flood your head and can hear his cute giggles ring in your ears. The corner of your lips starts to curl up into the kiss as you think back to the peck you gave him in the car on your first date, causing him to blush. His lips start to move, perfectly melding together with yours now that he feels more confident. His hands comfortably rest around the small of your back as you both block out everyone and everything around you.

“You okay?” He breathlessly questioned, pulling away.

“My heart keeps fluttering around you Hyune,” you admit nervously with a chuckle, breaking eye contact.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

“You want to come back to mine?” He asks and you nod taking his hand.

“Y/N, wait,” you don't know how it happened, but Minho was beside you, gripping your other hand. The way you're holding onto Hyunjin tighter makes him trust you hadn't changed your mind, and so he lets you talk, not that he would ever force you not to anyways.

You turn to Minho and despite the awful and hurtful things he had done to you, it wasn’t in your nature to hate him. Especially when he looks hurt and confused. You’ve been in that position before and it sucks.

“Hyune and I am going to go home now,” you broke the tension, speaking tenderly just like how you always did in the past with the Minho that you liked. And you hate to be impatient, but you only wanted to be with Hyunjin right now so you shut down Minho before he could even get a thought out. “Get home safely, Minho,” you say to him with a small smile.

Minho let’s go of your hand, watching leave with the other man, not turning back once to look at him. Although the other night you made it clear to him you weren’t with Hyunjin, tonight it was clear that you were, and he didn’t even need you to confirm it.

Minho never wanted it to be like this. If only he didn't treat you like that, saying all those cruel things to you or using you to get back at Hyunjin for whatever reason. If only he had told you he liked you back, told you he loved you back, he would have been the man you left this party happily with. He hates himself; he hates that he lost a good girl, that even after all of this after getting her heart broken multiple times that she was still able to treat him well, still wishing he gets home safe. Regrets remain around him as he watches you realise your worth.

When you got inside Hyunjin’s place, he instantly kneels down to help you take off your heels, rubbing your ankle where the strap was irritating you all night. The gesture was so romantic, but you wanted to tease him a bit.

"Don't tell me you have a feet fetish Hyune?" you joked watching him lift his head up at you. The image of him looking up you from his angle made your heartbeat faster. You didn't expect him to look so fine, so sexy like this. You fall into a trail of thoughts of him using those lips on you again, and how he would look hovering over you..

"What if I do? You going to allow me to take pics of them?" He giggles back interrupting your thoughts.

"Maybe," you played along opening a hand out to him to help him up.

"Come," he pulls into his room.

You have been over his house once, early days of your friendship, waiting in his living room as he retrieves a camera part from his room. You have never reached his room, so you didn’t expect all of this. It was neat and organised, lights were dimmed down, plain white sheets with a couple of fluffy pillows, his bed was made so perfectly. It smells like him, so manly but so pure. He had a collection of cameras lined up along his dresser, a couple of canvas of his beautiful artworks hung up on the wall and on his table. His room was kind of romantic if you could find one word for it.

“Your room is so dreamy. Makes me wanna fall asleep,” you compliment, finding your spot at the edge of his bed next to him.

“You’re dreamy,” he cheekily remarks.

“How many girls did you say that to?” you response.

“Only one," you were getting ready the cheesy line coming next. "Some girl in my art class last year, I think her name was Lia?" he teased, catching you by surprise making you frown. “I’m joking, a couple of girls actually,” he laughs.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” you say a little firmly as you eyed him.

“Only you, Y/N. Promise,” he says watching you soften your gaze.

Silence fills the air as you both hold eye contact. In most situations like this, you and Hyunjin would crack up laughing at the quietness, but this instant was so romantic.

His hand comes to cup your face and shortly after his lips crashed into yours again. It still got your heart pumping like it was the first time. You let him set the pace and he kisses a bit harder now that you’re both alone. It became more desperate and rougher when his swiped his tongue over your lips and into your mouth. He pulls you closer and you desperately pull at his shirt. Quiet moans fall into the kiss as you feel the sensation spread down between your legs. Soon you were on your back with him on-top as his free hand explores your body, resting on the material that was on top of your chest, almost groping your boob. It felt so overwhelming, so good that you feel yourself start to get wet. Hyunjin feels the same; hot and bothered. You feel his erection pressed to your thigh and you both moan that slipped at the contact.

You know what he craves, and you wanted it too, so fucking badly. You wanted to feel his lips down your neck, wanted his big hands groping your flesh, wanted him to fill you up and get rid of the throbbing ache between your thighs but you also wanted to take it slow. It was happening all too fast, and you didn’t know where both your feelings stood. Hyunjin could never hurt you, but you didn’t want to get attached to him too early. What if you start to become possessive like the past? When he directed his kisses to your neck, you figured it was the time to tell him.

“Hyune..” you were panting, hands gripping his shoulder to stop him.

“You don’t want this?” He softly asked feeling bad, immediately stopping and dragging you up with him to sit.

“No, I do!" you protested shaking your head.

“Is everything okay?”

“I just.. Do you like..” he notices your hesitation, eyes wavering unable to look at him. He lets out a gentle scoff at himself, it became clear to him he hadn’t told you about his feelings.

“I like you,” He searches for your hand to hold and you finally look at him. “I really like you Y/N. Like, I want to date you,” he admitted, with pink cheeks.

Your heart raced at his confession, a smile finally pulling on your face.

“You okay?” He asked when you don’t reply.

“I’m okay now,” you nod.

“Sorry I should have told you sooner, I just thought my feelings were clear already baby,” he chuckles. He had never called you that before and it got all the hairs on your body standing.

“I just needed to hear it Hyune,” you replied shyly.

“You’re so cute,” he taps your nose.

“I like you too,” it was your turn to confess and his face lights up brighter, grinning ear to ear. “I want it,” you tug at the material of his shirt bunching by his waist again. “I want to go there,” he knew you were referring to sex. “But is it okay if we take it slow?” you ask a lot more tentative than you proposed.

Hyunjin listens attentively at your words, but he doesn't answer you.

"I really like how you kissed me and I.. I want you to keep kissing me.. Just not further.. Yet,” you clarified with bright red cheeks, a little embarrassed but still hoping he gets the idea. “I ruined it didn’t I-”

"-I love it when you get flustered, baby,” he cuts you off before pecking your cheeks.

Not even a month ago you were crying about Minho, so Hyunjin knows you need some time to adjust. He just wants you to be okay first and if that means getting left high and dry every time he kisses you, he was willing to wait.

“Okay, we will go at your pace," he kisses the back of your hand before pulling you up from his bed.

"How about we wash up and watch a movie?” He tried to direct your attention elsewhere so you're not so embarrassed. You nod in agreement. "Do you want to share the bed Y/N? or is it too much?" Hyunjin took into consideration everything you had just mentioned.

"Yeah.. Where else would you sleep?" you questioned.

"Me?" He points to himself while tipping his head sideways, puzzled. "I was going to sleep in my comfy bed while you take the couch," he laughs.

"Oh." You rolled your eyes at him.

"I'm only kidding. We can share the bed if you want-"

"I want to Hyune," you cut him off with a smile.

"Come, let me show you around," he walks you toward his ensuite, helping you get familiar with where his stuff, showing you where the skin care is kept, where he stores his extra toiletries, everything. You can’t lie, with him being so boyfriend-material and so domestic like this, you could get used to it easily and it got you excited about the future.

“I'll get you some comfortable clothes, so throw all your clothes in the basket,” he says before closing the door behind him.

After you showered, you put on his shirt and shorts he got you and walked back to his bedroom. Hyunjin was sitting on the edge of the bed on his phone patiently waiting in nothing but pants. It was also the first time you’ve seen him topless like this. You gulped, feeling yourself fall into your lewd thoughts again. Take it slow Y/N, quit thinking about Hyunjin like that.

Hyunjin has the same thoughts when he saw you walk him. You were so pretty with your natural blushed cheeks, your glossy lips, drowning in his big t-shirt. It doesn’t help that the material was so thin making his eyes go straight to your perky tits.

“You wanna lie down in bed first? Pick out a movie? I’ll just wash up and be right back,” Hyunjin says, concealing his pervert thoughts, also snapping you out of your own.

“Okay, but come back quick then,” You replied, unable to hide your neediness.

“Why? You gonna miss me? Don’t wanna be away from me longer than 5 minutes?” He teased getting up to close the gap between you. His hands snaked around your waist pulling you close. You’re flustered again at the intimacy.

“No..” you lie. “I’m just scared.. What if someone breaks in? What am I suppose to do? You would have to fight them naked Hyunjin,” you never fail to charm him, causing him to finger flick your forehead as he giggles.

As Hyunjin comes back from his shower you were under the covers on the left side of his bed. His heart melts seeing you on your side, nearly passed out with the tv remote in your hand. He chuckles to himself making you turn your head into his directions.

“No one broke in by the way,” you say as you shuffled about in his bed, making space for him.

“Good, no-one tried to steal you,” he says before turning off the lights and crawling under the blanket next to you. “You look tired, maybe we should just sleep,” Hyunjin notices your disoriented state, grabbing the remote from you before pulling you onto his chest.

“Only a little, but I still want to be around you,” you mumbled, instantly draping your arm across his stomach latching yourself onto him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says gently, stroking your arm.

Hyunjin soon soothes you to sleep, one hand rubbing your arm and the other massaging your scalp as the movie plays in the background. He stays up a little bit more to admire you. He can’t believe his perfect girl is here in his bed tonight, trying her best to stay awake just to be with him.

You woke up to Hyunjin adjusting the blanket on you, pulling it up to your chin. The sunlight from his window is making it hard to look at each other but you both try your best anyways. You comb the long pieces of hair away from his face before your tiny hand rest on his cheeks.

“Hi,” you say in an airy voice, breaking the silence.

“You slept well?”

“Mhm, what about you?” It was probably one of the best sleep you had. Most definitely because you were in Hyunjin’s bed with him cuddling you.

“I had the sweetest dream,” he returns the favour and moves the loose strands hair from your face to behind your ear. “It was about this sweet girl,” he raised an eyebrow at you and you know what he was talking about.

“What happen?” You played along.

“She told me she likes me. It almost felt real,” he added.

“Hmmm really?” You tenderly say.

“Yes. She clinged onto me the whole night but I think it was just from the alcohol she had last night.”

“I’m sure she would cling onto you even if she was sober.” Your hand travelled down to his waist to prove it to him.

“You think?”

“I know.” You nod moving closer for a cuddle.

“She also told me something else. She told me she likes my kisses and wanted me to keep kissing her,” there was his dorky smile again, his eyes turning into half-moon shapes.

“Mhmm, maybe you should give her what she wants. And keep kissing her,” you hinted, hoping he would get the message.

And of-course he does. He closes the gap between you, his hand tilting your head up. You guys picked up where you guys had left last night. And there it goes again, the tingle going straight to your core. You don’t know what gotten into you but you just feel so much tension this morning, so you pull him onto you as you rolled on your back. Hyunjin hovers on-top of you but he doesn’t position himself fully atop, he knows he can’t help himself if he is slotted between your legs. He was already so hard and he is second guessing if making out was even a good idea so early in the morning. You felt the same, you were already at getting wet downstairs, how embarrassing would it be if he noticed it when you were the one who wanted to go slow.

The room was filled with the wet sounds as you both continue to go at each other’s lips. You guys became desperate teenagers again, slipping hands under each other’s shirt just grazing across your bare stomachs as moans falls from your mouths. Hyunjin’s dominant side makes an appearance as he grasps your wrist pinning them to the side of your head before he pulls away to continue the hot kisses down your neck. You find him extremely hot for that, it flipped a switch.

“Hyune?” You say and he instantly lift his head up from your neck.

“Sorry, you’re just really pretty in the morning I couldn’t help myself.. But slow, we will take it slow,” he breathlessly replied.

“Fuck.. I know I said that, but I’m..” you couldn’t find the words nor look him in the eyes. You needed more; the adrenaline was rushing through out your body.

“Hmm? What is it baby?” He knows where this was going to go but he wanted to tease you a bit.

“You’re making me really horny right now,” you admit, feeling yourself go red, unable to hide yourself as he still has your hands locked by your head. He softly chuckles at your confession.

"So, you’re going back on your words now? My sweet girl," the pet name making your stomach turn as you watch his eyes fills with lust.

“Only because..”

“Because what? Hmm?” You loved every second of his teasing.

“Because I want to show you how sweet I can be,”

“But you did already the day I meet you and in my dream too,” he raises a brow.

"Okay but in bed-wise.. Unless you don’t want it?" you teased him back.

"I do!” He was eager to reply. “I want it so much baby, but are you sure?” He rubs your palm with his thumb, gesture so sweet he was making sure it was alright for you.

“I’m sure Hyune, please,” You consented.

“You want to go all the way or-”

“All the way. I want you..” you practically begged.

“Yeah? Want to show me how sweet you can be in bed?"

"Mhmm,” you move from his grasp to hold him by his shoulders. He takes this moment to finally slot himself in-between your legs.

“Good. Cause you’re making me really horny too,” he attaches his lips to your neck again, this time rolling his hips into yours, letting his clothed erection pressed up against your clothed cunt. You could feel how big he was already; it was almost like there was only a thin layer between your private parts.

"God, you feel so good already Hyune," a moan escaped from your lips, this was all too hot for you.

Hyunjin continues to suck on your neck leaving you marks. He feels himself getting lightheaded rubbing on you like this. He wanted to last a little longer, but he can’t help how fast the blood is travelling down to his dick, he was desperate to cum already.

“Can I.. Need to taste you baby,” he mumbles shuffling back sitting on his heels and tugging at his shorts you were wearing. You comply lifting your hips up as he pulls them.

His eyes widened, letting out an airy chuckle as he sees the shorts go past your mound.

“Heh- god, no panties?” He asked, dick twitching in his own shorts at the sight.

“You told me to toss everything in the basket I-,” you tried to defend yourself. Maybe you should have spent an extra 10 minutes to wash and dry your panties with his hair dryer last night.

“-You listen to me so well sweetheart. Such an obedient girl,” Hyunjin praises you before pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips. You loved this side of him so much so romantic but so dominant. “Baby, I’m not wearing anything under too. Why wonder you drove me crazy,” he bites his bottom lip, pulling down the rest of your shorts and throwing them behind him. “Can’t believe my shorts touched you there before I could,” he banters eyeing your bare pussy.

“You’re so annoying Hyune,” you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

“Here, let me help with your shirt too,” he pulls you up and got rid of your shirt before you take your position again.

Hyunjin smirks to himself like a dummy as he stares at your body, eyes tracing every curve, every mark, everything. You feel a bit shy being bare from the hips down, knees bent on the bed on display for him like this, especially when he is still fully clothed.

“You’re so beautiful. So sexy. I’m so turned on right now,” he says finally pulling his shirt over his head, so you don’t feel so exposed. You desperately try to sit up wanting to touch him, but he pushes you back down on your back, a little bit too hard, surprising you.

“Ow-”

“Sorry!” He laughs. “Let me have a taste first, and then I’m all yours,” he adds, hands opening up your knees wider so he can see your pretty glistening cunt again.

“Okay,” you sided eyed him. “But you owe me though for pushing me back so hard,” you say.

“I’ll let you cum first, how does that sound?” He taunts you.

“Okay fine.” You gave in, happily.

He lied down on his stomach, so his face is now levelled with your cunt. His eyes rolls back as he takes in your sweet scent, his hands gripping your thighs softly to keep you open for him. You whined as his tongue drags through your folds. Your eyes were already rolling back, feeling the tension already building up in your stomach.

“Hyune, more,” you whined, and he continues to make out with your cunt, slurping up your wetness with his tongue, then sucking on your clit.

“You taste so sweet, fuck-” he coos, holding you more roughly as he starts to speed up. Your hands latch onto his hair and you start to grind against his tongue, spilling out that you’re close now. A couple more rubs to your clit from his muscle and you let yourself go, your body shaking as you cum around his mouth. Hyunjin hands comes to hold yours, locking them onto the bed as he licks up the remaining of your juices.

“Sweet heart, you’re so addictive,” Hyunjin sits up on his heels again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You were already fucked beneath him, cheeks red, your shirt exposing your stomach and your under boobs, a thin layer of sweat on forehead and Hyunjin was loving every detail of you like this.

“Hyune?” You say, searching for his hands. “Can I have you now baby?” You asked with big eyes and of course Hyunjin gives in, pulling you up so you’re sat as well.

“How do you want me sweet girl?” he winked to you; the ball was in your court now.

“Want you ontop.. I love how you held my wrist before,” you whisper as your hands tug on his shorts pulling them down his thighs, releasing his cock in the process.

You practically drool at him. He was so long, so thick and pink. You see all the veins and the red tip leaking with pre cum.

“Mm-so hard for you,” he says as he takes his shorts off completely, holding the base of his dick, looking at you.

You gulped replacing his hands with yours. Hyunjin squirmed, lifting his hips a little up when your small hand gripped him.

“Can I have you raw?” you asked impatiently. “Want to feel all of you,” Hyunjin’s dick twitch again but this time at your words, unable to hide his excitement. He pushed you on your back and gets in between your legs again.

“Fuck- you’re so dirty my sweet girl,” he bites his lip before kissing you.

“Only for you Hyune,” you say.

“You’re going to ruin me Y/N.”

Hyunjin lifts up from you again and grabs your wrist pinning them to the side of his head.

“Keep them there, I wanna hold them when I fuck you.” Hyunjin lines himself up to your entrance and slowly pushes in his tip. Your face scrunches up at the stretch. He waits until you’re relaxed before pushing the rest of his length in.

Hyunjin filled you up so perfectly, you were so warm and wet around him. He starts to move his hips slowly not to hurt you. Your moaning encourages him to go faster, and he was confident to go at his pace now with rough and deep thrusts.

“You’re so tight baby, so tiny for me,” he coos, his hands coming back to hold your wrist gently as he continues to thrust into you.

Hyunjin senses you were close evidently by your own hips moving with his, loud slapping sounds where your skin meets with each snap filled the air. His eyes rolls back as he feels you clench around him.

“Mmm- cumming Hyune-,” you whimpered, hiding your face in the pillow.

His feels his own orgasm reaching, and he grips onto your hand tighter.

“Oh fu- Where can I cum baby?” He grunts in your ear.

“On my pussy,” you feel him twitch at your words and he pulls out instantly gripping his length painting your pussy with his release.

“Love it when you whisper such a sweet things to me baby.” He managed to get out after a few moans, emptying every last drop on you before collapsing on-top of you.

You were ruined, exhausted. A wave of satisfaction washes over you as your hands wrapped around him. Hyunjin presses a kiss in the crook of you neck then quietly smiles to himself. You both stay like his for a little bit, catching your breath.

You feel him get up from the bed, a little nervous about his next move.

“Hyune where are you going?” you reached out to grab his wrist.

“Getting you a towel baby,” he places a quick kiss to your temple. “Just wanna clean my mess on my sweet girl,” he says, and you let him go. He rushes to his bathroom wetting a small towel in warm water and squeezing it before rushing back out to you who was patiently waiting on the bed.

“Back!” He says climbing back in the bed and parting your legs.

“You afraid I was going to leave you?” His tone so tender and you nod. “Never, you’re stuck with me,” he wipes gently at your soft skin.

“Can I ask you a question Y/N?” Hyunjin asks, tone a little bit more serious than usual as he continues to wipe random places from your thigh to your legs.

“Hmm?” You replied, preparing yourself for his question.

“Can I take a photo of your feet?” He says as the towel reaches your feet.

“You’re so annoying,” you giggled, quickly removing your feet from his hands and he laughs at your reaction.

“I was only kidding. Give me back the feet please,” he says.

Hyunjin throws the towel into the pile of clothes on the floor before lying next to you.

“Come here,” he pulls you into the same position you both were in last night, stroking your hair. Your heart flutters at the gesture.

“Hyune?” he hums in response. “Was I sweet?”

“The sweetest, my sweet girl,” he says.

The rest of the morning was spend in bed as you both trace random shapes with your fingers on each other’s body talking about sweet nothings.

“I didn’t hurt you did I baby?”

“No, you were perfect,” you replied cheeks flushed.

“Let me know if I ever do something that upsets you,” he replies tenderly.

“You could never Hyune.”

Your phone buzzes you both look to the direction of the vibration, which was the side table on Hyunjin’s side.

“Can you pass me my phone?” You ask and he reached over handing you the phone.

You unlocked it and there was a message from Minho.

Min Can we talk?

“You gonna answer him?” Hyunjin asked, a bit discouraged after peeking at Minho’s name on your phone.

“Nope not now,” you can tell Hyunjin is a little be sulky evidently due to his pout. You tap the editing option on your contact app making sure to tilt your phone a bit up so Hyunjin can see your next move.

“You okay?” You asked, adding ho to the end of Minho’s name on your phone. You tap back to Hyunjin’s name and to his surprise you already had him set as Hyune. Hyunjin nods at your question, suppressing his smile.

“You know I like you right?” You chuckle at his cuteness, adding a ❤️ to the end of his name before locking your phone and throwing it to the side.

“Yeah, you told me last night,” he replies cutely.

“Do you believe me?” He only nods at your question. “God damn it,” you voiced trying to sound a bit angsty but ended up sounding cute instead. “I was going to convince you how much I like you by letting you have your way with me,” you rolled your eyes making him giggle.

“Can I have my way anyways?” He says hovering over you, marking your neck again.

“Only if you let me see what I’m set as on your phone?” You teased.

“Send me a message then,” he tested and you search for your phone again.

Shortly after you hear a bing from his phone and he takes a look before passing it to you.

My sweet girl ❤️ Hi boyfriend! 🥰

“You’re so cute baby,” he says smiling at your message. You pull him down into you hiding your face in his chest as you smile uncontrollably at your contact name.

{🏷️ Taglist: @redstayrosie @konstanceee @farfromsugafanfic @realrintaro @bmnyy @binnies-minsung-fanclub @itsacatastrophe-xo @jyu-037 } Sorry if I missed anyone ❤️‍🩹

{Mina’s notes: I’m sorry this took forever. 🥴!!! I really wanted to showcase Hyunjin and Y/N’s playful relationship in this. 🤍 Anyways, to the Hyune girlies here is your ending.}

#becomingmina #stray kids #skz #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee know #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin smut #FuckboyMin Part 3 #Hyune #hyunjin #lee minho #stray kids smuts #hwang hyunjin imagines

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whiteskullofroses · 2 months

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Noch einer!

(Dieter Hellstrom x reader)- slight nsfw

A/N: Man idk, it's 1 am and Dieter is baby girl. I don't support nacizm/any of this man's ideologies. Enjoy!

🍻 Imagine being a Yugoslav Partisan camouflaged as an SS officer, when attending a nazi meeting in the basement you meet Dieter. After a few too many shots you slip up, but luckily he is too busy thinking about you rather than the things you say.🍻

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

The room was getting louder and louder with every second running by, yet you didn't budge. At least on the outside, on the inside though, you were on fire. The gun on your belt looked lovelier with every nazi that walked in and sat down at the table you were sitting at.

You couldn't believe that you approved of this "genius" plan The Basterds came up with. No matter how stupid it seemed, there was a possibility it could work and you wanted nothing more than to have these Schwabs out of Europe and sent straight to hell where they belonged.

The SS uniform felt too tight and uncomfortable, you tapped your black boots against the cold cement and silently cursed every officer that came in the basement, however, you decided to busy your mind with something else and stretch your legs. You got up, lit a cigarette in between your middle and pointer finger, and noticed the gramophone hiding behind a wall. Just as you noticed it, it stopped playing. Walking up to the gramophone to restart it, your eyes noticed a figure in the corner.

The yellow light from the candle lit up the left side of his face.

The SS officer was reading a book and drinking beer. The more you stared at him, your mind forgetting about the music, the more attractive he looked. "No, Y/N this isn't right," you said to yourself: "I shouldn't pray on men today, especially nazis."

Without realizing he was staring right back at you until he finally spoke: "Fräulein? Was ist los?" You broke eye contact and didn't reply.

He took a deep breath and closed the book, his hand patting the sit next to him, gesturing for you to sit down.

Your heartbeat quickened, the tension was unbearable and not in a good way.

"Y/N, do not show any compassion to him, his people are killing yours on the lines out there, he doesn't deserve it." Were the only thoughts running through your head the whole time you were slowly walking up to his side.

But for now, you had to be an actress to stay alive. His cologne smelled nice. That was the first remark you truly noticed about him, besides his amazing looks. "Wie heißt du, Liebling?"

"Liebling? Hah," you thought: "what an attempt to get me flustered."

"Erika Shauenberg."

It wasn't your real name, of course.

"Zigarette?" the man asked you, smiling. His smile wasn't bad either, in fact, he was the most perfect man you've ever seen.

"Why does he have to be a piece of shit?"

Your cigarette from before burned up by itself without you even putting it in your mouth. He really got you distracted so much that you forgot to smoke.

Nodding and taking one out of the box you thanked him: "Danke."

With one slick move, he pulled out a lighter and lit it. German cigs tasted different than the Yugoslav ones, but for the time being, they were good enough.

"Oh!" He remembered: "Es tut mir leid, dass ich vergessen habe," putting one in his mouth as well: "mich vorzustellen."

Blowing smoke into thin air: "Major Dieter Hellstrom."

Dieter? What an extraordinary name.

"Erik!" Dieter called out to the waiter as he approached our table. "Scotch, zwei Gläser!"

Grinning, he leaned closer to you and half whispered: "Erik hat eine Flasche Jahre alten Whisky aus dem schottischen Hochland-"

"Would you mind if we continued in English?" You interrupted him: "I was raised in France as a German kid." Tapping your cigarette on a black ashtray: "I never learned proper German because my father, well..."

Think Y/N! Think!

"He was killed in combat and my mother died from the flu when I was only 5 years old." Putting on a sad face you sighed: "I was given to a foster family in France."

"Where?" Dieter wondered.

"Menton."

"Ah, Erik!"

The waiter brought the two of you your drinks and left the scotch bottle on the table. Amazing, this was going to be a long night.

However, in reality, you couldn't complain about being in his company. Yes, he was a nazi, and yes you hated nazis, but damn was he charming.

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

1 hour later....

You've never had this much fun in your life. How many shots you drank, how many cigarettes you smoked? You didn't care, and neither did Dieter. He was just as shitfaced as you.

You both laughed at each other's stories from the past.

"Noch einer, Liebling?"

"Ja, bitte!"

As he took your glass to fill it up, you watched the golden liquid splash on the table as the bottle slipped from his hand. You quickly picked it up, slightly touching his hand while leaning over the table to reach it, and laughed out loud.

"You know this reminds me when I lived in Yugo-"

Shit. No no no no no!

"Yugo? What Yugo?" he looked at you, his eyes glassy, gazing upon your face.

You swallowed hard: "Yugo? Yugo! Ah, yes!"

Think Y/n, think!

"Yugo's apartment .."

Good job Y/n

"We dated in highschool."

It was quite impressive how your foggy brain could still have such a wild imagination.

For a second he looked at you and said:

"You're aren't German, are you?"

Silence

You simply started at him and ran over the words he just spoke.

He said it's so effortlessly, his drunk tongue didn't slur one word in that sentence, as if that didn't mean that you were about to die. There was no solution in getting out of this. You do not have any evidence that you in fact were German, nor that you lived in France! Hell you don't even know France that well at all! You were pretty sure these were your last moments alive before his pretty German pistol would shoot you in the head and leave you for the rats feast on.

Suddenly the clock on the stone wall behind you started ticking slower, your heartbeat sped up and your palms got sweaty.

Meanwhile, he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. His left hand was in his pocket the whole time, swiftly he pulled his hand out of his pocket and grabbed your face, to your surprise he didn't press a gun to your lips, he pressed his lips against yours. He kissed you.

To be continued...

#dieter x reader #dieter hellstrom #inglourious basterds #august diehl

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jesterwriting · 6 months

Note

(for that timeloop post,, uhm this relates to the whole body horror thing ((not too much just a brief mention)) so if rn u don't wanna see that SCROLL AWAY!!! OR DELETE ME!! OK disclaimer ends here)

oh man but what if Law did say room anyway and there were impossible scars on your insides... like littered everywhere, they're not fresh but old, almost phantoms that make no sense, because if they were real you would've died. how would he react to that? maybe not when he noticed them crying but after weeks or months, dunno, where they keep skipping his more thorough check-ups (where he uses his devil fruit) since they're anxious about the pains? and think that somehow there are signs of their previous deaths and the mention of them makes it hurt more and more and they just can't do it. but they can't bring themselves to say it because who could possibly believe them? if Law doesn't, it would just feel even worse, won't it? even if they understand his point of view. maybe they even die in front of him and it gets harder to just hold all of that in,,, oh boy. if you think about continuing your oneshot i'll eat it like a starving animal!

pairing: law x gn!reader

contents: slight body horror, slight gore, timeloops, suicide done to restart the loop, hurt/comfort, happy ending,

word count: 1.6k words

note: OHHHHH I LOVED THIS IDEA OH MY GOD. absolutely so smart. anon your mind is huge and i had so much fun doing this request. <33 i really hope you enjoy :33

playlist: caribou - tanya tagaq

a sister fic to this

This had never happened before. You had experienced hundreds of loops, maybe even thousands, and this was the first time Law saw fit to scan you with his Devil Fruit.

Maybe you were getting sloppy. You had a strong immune system so you never got sick, and the first time Law scanned you for your general checkup upon joining the crew, there was nothing of note. You wondered what changed, as if you hadn’t died more times since you joined his crew than you had in your entire life. Maybe it was because the more you suffered, the more reckless you became, throwing yourself into the fray with little regard for yourself. You could take a bullet for your crewmates, so you would. It was as simple as that.

There was a first time for everything, you supposed. A first death, a first breath, a first kill; there were uncountable firsts that one could experience, and you had experienced most of them.

Not this one, though.

You had tried to avoid it for as long as possible. Your captain was a man who carried burdens, ones almost as heavy as the ones on your shoulders. If he knew how many times he failed you — or how many times you failed him — you knew he would take all the blame for himself. As if you hadn’t been the one lying, and fighting, and dying over the course of countless lifetimes.

Law blinked a few times before his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. You fidgeted under his stare. If his reaction was anything to go by, he found something horribly wrong with you. While you had experienced slow deaths before, you had never experienced what it felt like to waste away from disease. Maybe you’d find out this loop, you thought, trying to feel nonchalant about the idea and not like you were about to throw up.

“Um. What’s wrong,” You tried.

Law shushed you, the blue glow from his room still surrounding you. You bit your tongue, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt to try and take your mind off of whatever he could have found.

“This can’t be right,” He muttered, one hand cradling his chin. He pointed to your chest. “There’s a scar inside of you, it looks like a puncture wound through your lungs. When did that happen?”

Three loops ago when you fell off a building and onto some rebar. That was a particularly awful death. The last thing you remembered before everything went black was Law’s panicked expression as he tried to put you back together again. There was terror in his eyes. You tried not to think about that part.

“And here,” Law continued, pointing to your abdomen. “There’s a scar running across the length of your stomach. It almost looks as if you were previously disemboweled.”

You had been. Multiple times. It was a common and very disturbing loop ender that you tried to avoid if you could. Watching your organs fall out of you in a steaming heap was never something you liked to experience, but for some reason, your opponents kept aiming for the gut. You wished they’d aim for the heart or the head more often. At least then it’d be quick.

He didn’t stop there, jaw falling open when he stared directly where your heart was. “When were you stabbed, Y/N-ya, this looks recent.” Law blinked a few times before realization dawned on his features. His eyes shot to your face, expression going from open to unreadable in seconds. “How did you survive without my intervention?”

Your mouth was dry. How were you supposed to respond? There was no way you could tell him that you had died on his watch more times than you could count. Law didn’t deserve that. Your captain was a good man, one you loved admired far too much to allow this to weigh him down. He would take your failures to heart, completely discounting the amount of times that he had saved you from having to start anew.

You must have been quiet for too long because Law was speaking again. “Answer me.”

“It’s from a long time ago,” You said.

That was a lie. It was from the previous loop. A quick death by your own hand over the cold corpse of your captain. If Law didn’t survive, there was no point in continuing, and if there was one thing you had grown accustomed to, it was taking your own life after one loss too many. You knew how to make it quick, no suffering. So with a precise hand, you drove your knife into your chest and let the timeline begin anew.

When you saw Law again, whole and alive, you vomited. You were under the impression that he believed that you simply ate some bad seafood, but from the concern that was slowly etching its way onto his features, you weren’t so sure of that now.

“Don’t lie to me.” Law’s eyes flashed, barely contained frustration needling at the corners of him. “None of this makes any sense, half of these injuries should have killed you. The other half would have needed to be treated.”

The truth sat on the tip of your tongue. You felt selfish and needlessly cruel for your desire to tell Law what was really happening. Your eyes burned, and their glassy sheen didn’t go unnoticed. Law handed you a tissue, expression softening.

“I- um.” You hated how your voice cracked. It had been a long time since you told someone about your Devil Fruit. You always died, and they always forgot. For a long time, you thought it was better that way, carrying this weight on your own. The way Law looked at you, though, it made you want to pour your soul out to him. Every pain, every loss, every death lain at his feet, and for once, you could stand unburdened. “It’d be wrong of me to tell you.”

Law’s eyebrows knit together. “Now you’re being stupid.”

“No, I’m not. You’ll regret asking once you know. Don’t pretend like you don’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, you don’t deserve my troubles on top of that. It’s better for both of us if you just forget what you saw.”

With that, you stood and made to brush past Law and out of the room. He grabbed you by the shoulder, not allowing you to go any farther. Though his grip was firm, it didn’t hurt. If you really wanted to, you could wrench yourself away from him.

“You’re trembling.”

Your lower lip wobbled, your resolve ebbing away by the second. “It’s complicated.”

“So tell me.” Law’s lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. “Doctor’s orders.”

You let out a small huff. He didn’t deserve this, but there would always be another loop. This current one hadn’t been going so well, and by your estimation, it would take at least three more before you managed to reach your next checkpoint. It wouldn’t hurt to tell Law what he inevitably wouldn’t remember. You steadied yourself with a deep breath and turned to face him, his eyes met yours with a mix of concern and exasperation.

“It’s my Devil Fruit,” You started. Law leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms, attention solely on you. Your heart thundered in your chest. “I’ve died so many times.” Without your permission, your breath hitched. Law’s hand encircled your own with a small squeeze, encouraging you to continue. “It, um, brings me back, I guess. I’ll die, and then wake up in the bunkhouse days earlier, and I’ll be the only one who remembers what happened. All those scars you saw were what killed me in a previous loop.”

He was silent while he chewed on his words.

“How many times have you died since you joined my crew,” Law finally asked.

Your hand was still in his and you gave it a squeeze. “That’s not fair. I know what you’re doing and I won’t let you do it.”

Law’s shoulders slumped as he brought his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I believe you. It explains a lot. I noticed you cry in your sleep sometimes.”

“You watch me sleep?” The tips of Law’s ears were tinged pink while you laughed.

“I was worried so I checked on you.” With a sigh, he began to lead you out of the clinic to his office. “Come on, you’re telling me everything you can remember. We’re going to come up with a plan.”

Humoring him, you followed close on his heels. It didn’t matter how long or how hard you planned, there was no accounting for the unpredictability of the universe. This comfort wouldn’t last long. Soon, you would be dead again and the cycle would start anew. That didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy sharing a space with your captain, listening to him meticulously craft tactics to keep you, and everyone else, alive.

It wasn’t until four days later you found yourself breathing, though covered head to toe in blood, with the rest of the crew. Everyone was safe and sound, and Law wouldn’t stop looking at you with a smirk on his face. When you found yourself next to him, he bumped his shoulder against yours.

“I told you my plan would work.”

Just like that, for the first time in your life, you were no longer alone.

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x yn #trafalgar law x you #.jesterwrites #rezero fans you know whats up

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bjornswoman · 3 years

Text

Blue piercing eyes

Requested by none.

Author's note: Hey guys! I hope each one of you is alright. I want to thank yoy again for your support, that means a lot for me. Especially, now that I am getting through a difficult period time. Also, sorry for any mistakes. Thank you for reading this!

Pairing: Modern!Bjorn x Reader.

Genre: Modern!au, romance, drama, angst.

Summary: You and Bjorn reunite again after two painful months.

Warnings: Jealousy.

You tried to live a peaceful life, away from him and the drama of his world, that followed him everywhere. Wherever he was, the placed ended up destroyed. You even left your home, you left Denmark and moved somewhere else, thinking that he wouldn't find you. You had reached Spain to find your peace, but Bjorn Lothbrok was stubborn and he would do anything to take you back. The reason you left wasn't because you didn't love him. You loved him with every last piece of you. Your heart was beating only for him and the fact that you were apart, teared it off, but you couldn't do nothing else.

He had warned you that his job was his top priority and all the matters that happened into it. You didn't care, at first, but that changed when be spent more and more time away from you, because of business. Of course, business included being close to attracting women. You knew how Bjorn could get when he was close to a hot woman, he couldn't handle himself. He loved you, he really did and you knew that, but that was his weak spot. He was the perfect man. He was a successful businessman, a good looking man and an even better lover, you knew too well how to satisfy a woman. He was a father, he loved his children, he had told you that and even if he didn't, you would see it in his eyes. He loved them deeply, but he didn't really know how to express it, because his own father had never really gotten to tell him. He just taught him how to be the successful heir of his company. He kept saying that he regretted for not being in their lives, you told him that never was late, but, as the stubborn man he was, he didn't listen, he thought that he had lost any chance.

The things between you got bad and then worse when he met your boss. You were working in a well-known law firm. Actually, he had already known him, obviously. Bjorn Lothbrok knew literally everyone in this country and everyone knew him. After all, his family was the richest one in Denmark. The name Lothbrok was known all over the world and many famous businessmen craved a deal with them. Your boss, Mr Jones, was a womanizer, as well as your beloved boyfriend. He was hitting on you non-stop not knowing about your relationship with Bjorn, but even when he learned, he kept doing that. His flirting was the reason of the fights that destroyed you. He spoke harsh words, just to harm you, and you did the same and then your relationship ended.

After all that, you knew that you had to leave from Denmark. Ubbe, his younger brother, told that be was a mess and that he wouldn't let things this way. You wanted to be with him, but all that drama and you being never something serious for him, you decided that it your time to leave Denmark. Ubbe warned you that he would chase after you, but you were sure that you would make it to hide yourself from him and maybe, when he had forgotten you, you would return to your home and restart everything.

Now, after two months, you had settled down. You had a new job and made some new friends. You even managed to go on a date with some man. His name was Olaf, luckily, he was from Sweden. Maria, one of new friends, was working in the same company with him. She was the one whi insisted that you should date someone and you did. At first, you didn't like the idea of going out with someone that wasn't Bjorn Lothbrok, but, when you got to know Olaf, you liked spending time with him. He wasn't Bjorn, but no one would be, you had to move on, as you were sure that he did.

The only problem was that he didn't move on, because you loved you. He couldn't even lay with another woman. Yes, Bjorn Lothbrok couldn't lay with another because of you. Every single time he saw your figure everywhere in the room. He even tried to not be in a room to claim a woman, but you were still around there. He couldn't even imagine that he would feel something like that towards a woman, but there he was, feeling helpless. He tried to find you all this time and when he did, the deal with that Spanish men seemed the best option. They were pain in his ass for a whole year and now they were lucky that Madrid was where you decided to hide yourself, but nothing could be hidden from Bjorn Lothbrok.

"Stop! Please, I can't! It's..... my belly is hurting! Olaf, please you need to stop!" You tried to say within your laughter. You couldn't stop laughing. All night he was telling you some of some ridiculously funny jokes, you couldn't stop laughing. He was smiling at you. He liked you and tried to make him feel more comfortable when you were together, that's why he started saying that jokes. He wanted you to open up.

You couldn't do that. You needed to fully trust him before you started sharing private stuff about you with him. It wasn't like Bjorn. When you were with him you felt comfortable, that had been happening since your first actual date. Now with Olaf, it was different. Maria said that it was normal, because you hadn't been on a date with anyone, except Bjorn, but you didn't feel like it.

Olaf continued saying his jokes, but it wasn't funny anymore. Your laughter died when you saw Bjorn entering that same restaurant. His hand was wrapped around a woman's waist. She looked like a doll, probably she was a model. He didn't look at you neither once. Olaf looked at you confused. You had totally forgotten about him for a moment, but his voice took you back there on your table.

"Is-is everything all right?" He asked looking where you were looking before. He couldn't understand what was happening. "Do you-do you know that man?" He asked again and you coughed. You didn't want to lie to him, but that seemed the only solution at that moment.

"Well, not really. He just seemed familiar to me, but I don't really know him." You lied and he smiled at you again. Your eyes found their way to Bjorn again. This time they made contact with his blue piercing eyes. He didn't looked at you for long. His gaze returned to that woman. You tried to concentrate on what Olaf were saying. Your mind, as well as your heart, was on Bjorn and that blond woman who reminded you of Barbie.

"As I told you before, the company I work for is goimg to deal with some company of Denmark and--" His words made you look at him. He just said company of Denmark, you heard that clear. He was here because of a deal. Then what was this woman doing here, next to your man? Technically, he wasn't your man, not anymore, but you cared.

"You just said company of Denmark, didn't you?" You tried not to yell and you succeeded, only because you didn't want Bjorn to understand, but he did and that was why he smirked. Literally, this man could hear anything, even a cat walking. Olaf nodded and you run your hand through your hair. "Do you-do you know how the CEO of that company is called? Actually, is his name Bjorn Lothbrok?" You whispered and he frowned. He was completely confused. Firstly, he didn't know why you bothered and secondly, he couldn't understand why you were whispering.

"I think so." He spoke and you smiked. Now he was completely lost. He couldn't understand you. "Are you okay, (Y/N)? Do you want ys to leave, you know to continue our night somewhere else?" He asked and you thought about it for a while. If you left now, you wouldn't be close enough to watching him and if you stayed, you would be close enough, but you would be caught up for sure because you couldn't stop staring at them. Leaving was the right thing to do, you didn't want him to thinking that you were staying tgere vecause of him. But if you left, you wouldn't know were he was. That didn't really mattered. A voice inside your hears was yelling at you that you would meet him again.

"I am fine, but I do think that we should leave. I know were we should go. It's funnier there." You spoke and grabbed your jacket. He stood up and a wide smile covered his face. Bjorn wasn't as happy as Olaf. You had succeeded. You glanced at him. You was glaring at you. You smiled to yourself and left.

The fact that Bjorn was enraged because of you made you happy, but that woman with him didn't. You were almost sure that he had moved on, but if he had, why would he be angry with you dating another man? You needed answers and only Bjorn could give them to you, but you were sure that he wasn't willing to give them and even if you was, you wouldn't dare to ask for them. You could imagine that smirk on his face and that drove you crazy.

You were jealous, so much jealous that you couldn't control your thoughts, but you had no right to be. You had found another man and he did the same. You had to be happy for him. Whatever happened between you, wasn't meant to last. Maybe that way was better, but that didn't make it less painful. It hurt seeing him with another woman.

On the other hand, he was enraged. He tried to control his anger and not beat that man to death. That wouldn't help your relationship at all, but he couldn't see him make you laugh or hold your hand, like he used to do. Actually, he had never really held your hand. His hand had always been wrapped around your waist. He was possessive and that movement meant to show to every other man who wanted you, that you were his. He had totally forgotten about the blonde doll with him, but she made sure to remember him. She cleared her throat, but still he didn't seem to care for her. She sighed deep.

"Bjorn!" She whispered yelled and he looked at her frowned. She smiled at him and he looked back at you. You and that prick had stood up and probably were going to leave this place.

He hadn't picked this place randomly, he had learned about you dating this man and even that this place was where you going most of the times. So he wouldn't miss the chance to encounter with you here. He thought that all this would be less painful, but it wasn't. He even managed to bring Stella. She was a model, they met somewhere he couldn't reacall. She was just a friend. Yes, Bjorn Lothbrok had friends that were female. She was one of them. After all, she wasn't interested in any man.

Your eyes locked with his dark angry blue before you make your way out of that place. If eyes killed, you would be dead. Everyone would be dead inside that place.

You started walking with Olaf by your side. No one of you really talked. You were thinking about Bjorn. He looked more beautiful than before. His beard, that you loved so much, had grew much longer and his hair was shorter and that blue eyes that you missed so much. You could sense that something was bothering Olaf, as well, but Bjorn was the only thing you could think.

"There something in your mind that's bothering you, I can sense it you know and I think that it has to do with that man from earlier in the restaurant." Olaf spoke and you turned your face and looked at him. You didn't want to lie to him. He didn't deserve all of this. He was a funny and good guy. He deserved a woman who cared about him truly and loved him, not you. All you could think about, all you cared about was Bjorn. You were stil in love with him. Actually, you had never stopped. You couldn't stop.

You turned your gaze down on the ground. You weren't proud for that. You didn't want to hurt him. He deserved to know the truth. He was nothing but good and fair to you all this time. He didn't even make any move to lay with you. He respected you, because he had understood that something bothered you.

"There is something that's bothering me and yes, it has to do with him. His name is Bjorn and he is my ex." You said in stable tone of voice.

"Bjorn as Bjorn Lothbrok?" He asked, trying to join the pieces together. You nodded at him and he frowned. Now all made sense. He was the man Maria told him about. He told him that you had broken up with your boyfriend and that was the reason you came to Madrid. You lived in Denmark and Bjorn lived there too. Also, Maria told him that you tried to get away from that man. It all made sense. He was famous and powerful. "And you? I mean, do you still love him?" He asked, but you didn't really answered. He knew the answer himself. He could see it in your eyes. When you looked at him in the restaurant, he saw a gleam in your eyes, something that he hadn't seen inside there before. It hurt him, because he liked you, but he couldn't make you love him or even like him. If Bjorn was the man who could make you happy, he would ve happy as well. People said that if you love someone, you let him go. That was what he was going to do.

"I have never stopped loving him. You are a good guy, you truly are. But for me there is only Bjorn. My Gods have decided that I am made to love him, but we can't be together, things between us are complicated. Sorry, if that hurts, but I can't stop it. I wanted to forget about him and be with you. I tried, but I can't control my feelings." You spoke and your eyes teared up. What you said was the truth. It was upon you these feelings, you didn't have the power to banish them. Your tears were streaming insanely from you eyes. You couldn't even control that.

"I understand you. That kind of love is difficult, if not impossible, to die. If you are happy because of him, I am happy, as well. Just not cry. You have nothing to be sorry about. It's your feelings, you can't change them. I really like you, yeah, and I want to fight for you, but I know that I will lose." He said and stopped walking, you stopped, as well. His hands cupped your hand and his thumbs wiped away your tears. "You shouldn't cry. That eyes aren't made for crying. Don't let him leave, (Y/N). You are suffering without and he is suffering too. Actually, he probably wants to kill me. His eyes were throwing daggers to me. I am lucky because eyes can't kill." He said and you smiled. He was so sweet. He even tried to make you smile after all this.

"His piercing blue eyes can kill you know." You said and both of you laughed. After a small conversation, he left. You sat on a bench and looked at the starry night sky. Madrid was busy at night. People were laughing and having fun. You were watching them having fun in a try to forget about your own thoughts, but that seemed impossible. Bjorn were always there, inside your mind, haunting your thoughts. You would never find the peace you wanted, because there is no peace when you are away from only person you care so much about. You would only find your peace by his side, but even there the problems would exist.

A very familiar scent invaded in your nostrils. You lifted your gaze and saw his face. He sat down next to you and for a moment or so no one of you really talked. You were just watching the busy streats. You were sure that he could listen your heart pounding inside your chest. You were together after two whole months and your skin was burning. Your hearts couldn't stop beating so fast. You were sure that if it continued to beat like that, it would be ripped off your chest. You turned to look at him, he was looking at you. Blue piercing eyes met with yours and they stayed there.

"Were is your..... friend?" He said playfully and took a cigarette out of his pocket. He placed it on his lips and light it up. You watched every single movement of his. "Do you want one?" He offered yiu cigarette and you took it. He seemed surprised by this, because you didn't really smoke before. He light it up for you and you inhaled the smoke and then exhaled. Now he was watching your movements. "I thought you hate smoking." He continued and you turned again to him.

"Yes, I hated it, but I guess I have adopted bad habits since I came here. As for Olaf, he probably went to his home or somewhere else. He is a good guy, but not for me." You said and looked back at the street. You exhaled the smoke before you start talking again. "What about your friend?" You asked, trying to sound like you didn't care, but in fact you did. You wanted to ask why he was here, sitting next to you, when he could ve somewhere with that blonde doll, you saw him with, but you were a coward. He smiled. He had succeeded, you were jealous.

"Probably somewhere with her girlfriend." He answered and you looked at him frowned. You couldn't understand. He threw away his cigarette and moved closer to you. You did the same. His hands cupped your face and he looked deep in your eyes. "You were crying. You know that I hate it when you cry." He whispered and his thumbs caressed your cheeks. You closed your eyes for a moment.

"Why did you come here, Bjorn? Don't tell about some stupid deal, I won't believe it." You said and he sighed.

"I came for you, (Y/N). I thought I was fine when you left, that I didn't need you. I was angry with you for leaving me, but I didn't want to admit it. I tried to lay with some women, but you were always there, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I need you. I-I..... love you." He confessed and you tears fell from your eyes again. His thumbs on your cheeks wiped them away. "Come back home." He whispered and you closed your eyes again.

"I tried to forget about you, to start a new life here away from my old one, I even found a man that wasn't you, but nothing seemed to work out, because of my mind. You were, you are always inside there haunting my thoughts. I don't really sleep, you eyes don't let me. Earlier today, I told Olaf about us and he understood. He told me not to let you leave. He even told me that I am suffering when I am not with you and I am not going to deny it. I love you too much to bear living without you, Bjorn." You whispered and he smirked, but not for long. His lips pressed on yours, in a fierce and rough kiss. He was biting you hungrily within the kiss. You loved it. You loved all the marks that he left to your body each time, hickeys, scratches, bites, bruises, you were used to that. He gripped your body firmly, he didn't mean to harm you. He was just getting too much exciting about this and he couldn't handle himself. He hurt you sometimes because of his size and his fast pace, but you liked it. At first it was a little painful, but then it was only pleasure.

When you stopped kissing, you looked at his eyes again. All this was like a dream. He smiled at you and you did the same. He didn't smile often. Most of the times he was angry and his eyebrows were knitted, because of anger.

"So this means that you are coming back." He said and you nodded.

Your relationship didn't work out at first, but it would in the future. Everything would be different after this night. After all this time you were apart, he knew that he needed you, that he loved you. He had loved other woman before, but no one of them made him feel this way. What he felt for you wasn't something that he could handle or control. He liked being in control and that drove him crazy. He would try to be the right man for you. He wanted to be ans he would.

#vikings bjorn #bjorn lothbrok #bjorn ragnarsson #bjorn ironside #bjorn imagine #bjorn x reader #vikings imagine #vikings x reader

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omgjasminesimone · 3 years

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Life Goes On

Dakota x MC

Word Count: ~2,300

Now with Follow-Up, The Moments in Between

She doesn’t want to say anything, but eventually she has to. After all, they’re Prom Royalty tonight. There’s no way their absence from the Edenbrook Prom hasn’t been noticed by now.

“Should we head back down there?” Sage asks quietly, breaking the comfortable silence between the pair.

Dakota’s index finger momentarily pauses in its absent-minded tracing of stars, hearts, and what Sage surmises must be ghosts, based on the wavy lines at the bottom, on her bare back. He restarts the invisible drawings on her hip before he finally replies. “Honestly, I just want to stay up here with my incredible girlfriend. Let’s never leave this bed.”

Sage smiles, lifting her head from where it was tucked under his chin. “That offer would be much more appealing if this was a Queen instead of a hospital bed.”

Dakota laughs, and Sage smiles at her unending ability to make him do that, further entwining her legs with his. She’s no longer worried about what the other prom attendees are thinking about their absence as the teens fall into another comfortable silence.

“That was amazing, Teach.” Dakota eventually says, his lips pressed gently against her forehead. “Thanks for taking that one off my bucket list.”

Sage looks up at him, placing a quick peck to his lips. “I was more than happy to help you get the full Senior Prom Night experience.” She admits when she pulls away.

Dakota smiles at her, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Her brow furrows. “What?”

“….This is probably the worst time to bring this up…..” Dakota begins before trailing off as he looks at her uncertainly.

“What, Dakota? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His eyes dart to their scattered clothes on the sterile hospital floor before he’s able to meet her sincere gaze. “Can we….talk about death for a second?” Dakota asks.

His penetrating brown eyes bore into her own, and she can only nod.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking about death, a lot.” He begins.

“Why? Are you not feeling well? Do you need to go back to the ICU? Dakota! Why did you go to prom and risk your immune system if you weren’t feeling well?!” Sage asks frantically. She reaches down to the ground for her discarded dress. “I’m gonna find the oncologist…” She mutters distractedly.

“Hey, hey!” He firmly grips her shoulder, his grip firmer than it has been for months now. That calms her a little, and she lets him roll her back over to face him. “Slow down a minute, Sage. I feel…fine. It’s just, …who knows how I’ll feel tomorrow? Or the next day. And we haven’t really talked much about this, so…I don’t know…no time like the present?”

The frantic beating of her heart calms further at his assurances that he doesn’t feel unwell. “Okay, let’s talk about it.” She says, even though that’s the last thing she wants to talk about as she lies naked in his arms.

“Okay. First off, I just want you to know I’m okay with dying. I had 19 good years, that’s more than a lot of people get. I have family and friends who love me.” He pauses here, leaning forward to place a lingering kiss to her lips. “I have you. That’s a pretty fulfilling life right there.”

“Dakota…” Sage whispers, voice already breaking.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m going to be okay. No matter what happens. But….I worry about what happens to everyone else after I’m gone.” Dakota admits.

“That’s so like you. Concerned about everyone else. You’re such a good person, Dakota.” The kind of person who should live to old age, the kind of person who makes the world a better place. Life can be so unfair, but Sage keeps that thought to herself.

“I can’t help but worry. A lot of marriages don’t survive the loss of a child, you know. My parents’ whole lives revolve around me. They upended everything to move to Boston to get me the best medical care. They left their friends, and family. I just…..don’t want them to stop living if I do. Does that make sense?”

Sage nods, intertwining her fingers with his under the thin hospital blanket.

“If I’m gone, will you check on them for me? Not, like, all the time or anything. But just….stop by to visit if you’re in town? I think it would help them, to see you achieve all the life landmarks I don’t get to. Graduating college, getting your first real job,…getting married….” Dakota trails off as tears well in her eyes. “Teach…..”

Sage shakes her head. “I’m okay.” Dakota looks unconvinced, so she forces a smile. “I promise I’m okay. And of course I’d visit, and call when I’m out of town.”

“Thank you.” He says with so much gratitude Sage almost bursts into tears immediately. “Alright, so the other people I worry about are Lennox and Mateo. We’ve been the three musketeers for so long, it wouldn’t be the same with just two. So, I’m gonna need you to keep the gang together.”

“Of course I’d still talk to your best friends Dakota. You don’t even have to ask that.” Sage admonishes.

“They’re your friends too now. Don’t forget that. And as their friend…..please don’t let them wallow in survivor’s guilt, okay? I don’t want them to feel guilty for getting to live in case I don’t. I’m honestly so happy that they’re better, that they’re healthy. Don’t let them forget that, alright?”

“Alright.” Sage parrots miserably. She didn’t know this conversation would be so hard. And if just talking about it is this hard, she can’t imagine actually living it. There’s no way she’s strong enough to do that.

“Okay, so that just leaves one more person I’m a little worried about.” Dakota continues. He brushes away a tear that’s sliding down her face toward his pillow. “You, Teach.”

“If you’re so worried, then don’t leave me.” Sage tries to joke, but now she’s full-on sobbing so it falls flat.

Dakota smiles softly anyway though, pressing another lingering kiss to her lips. She tries not to think about how many kisses, how much time, they have left. “I’m going to try my absolute hardest not to, beautiful…..but if I do….I want you to move on. I want you to get married, and have babies, and live your life to the absolute fullest. And I don’t want you to feel guilty about it for even a second, do you hear me?”

“How can you ask me to do that? Of course I would feel guilty. When I think about walking down the aisle, it’s you I’m picturing standing beside the priest. And when I think about starting a family, I picture a little girl with your eyes, or a baby boy with your smile. I can promise you I’ll settle for someone else if that’s what you want to hear, but I’m always going to love you. Present tense. Forever. And some guy would just have to settle for being second best. That wouldn’t be fair to him.”

Dakota smiles sadly. “You’re young. Right now, everything feels like it’s the end of the world. But ten years from now? You’ll barely remember me, Teach. Life goes on. You’ll love again. I know it. And I want you to.”

“You’re not forgettable Dakota. You’re extraordinary. You changed me, and even if you’re not here, even if life goes on, you’ll go on with me. I’ll think about you every day.” Sage swears.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Sage.” Dakota says, tone full of forced levity.

“I’m not.” Sage insists.

“That is something I worry about, you know. Something most people who are dying worry about. Being forgotten. Just…ceasing to exist, disappearing off the face of the Earth.” Dakota admits.

“That’s not going to happen to you. Me, your parents, Lennox, Mateo? We wouldn’t let you just…fade away. We love you. I love you. Present tense. Remember?”

Dakota smiles, and as usual, her heart flutters. “I love you too Sage. So much.”

“…can we talk about something happy now? I think I cried off all my makeup.” Sage rubs under her eyes, and that’s definitely smeared mascara coating her fingers.

“One more thing. I want to ask you for a favor.” Dakota adds.

“Name it.”

“Will you name your first born after me? A namesake, so I’m not forgotten?” Dakota asks. Sage can’t tell whether or not he’s joking.

“You don’t think my hypothetical baby daddy would have a problem with me naming our child after my late boyfriend? The love of my life who I still wouldn’t be over?” Sage counters.

Dakota shoots her an almost offended look. “Sage, you’re telling me a grown man, who is your husband, not baby daddy, in this scenario, is going to be threatened by your long dead high school boyfriend? You can do better.”

Sage laughs, and Dakota can’t help but join in.

Eventually their laughter dies down, and they just stare at each other lovingly in the dim light of the hospital room. “Alright, when you put it like that, I guess I can promise to name my firstborn after you.” Sage eventually promises.

Dakota lifts his pinky, and Sage rolls her eyes, but she pinky promises him anyway.

“Thank you. Now, we can get dressed and get back to prom before your mom comes looking for you.” Dakota concludes.

….

…

10 years later

Sage wakes to the shrill cry of her newborn through the baby monitor. She rubs at her eyes sleepily as she searches for her slippers in the dark bedroom. Her husband starts to stir. “I’ve got him.” Sage offers, and her husband dozes off again with a soft mutter of thanks.

Sage makes her way down the hall and reaches into her son’s crib. “What’s wrong Dakota? Hungry? Need a new diaper? Just want attention and hate when mommy gets a good night of sleep?” Sage asks, yawning as she comes to the end of her question.

She shrugs one arm out of her nightgown and raises her son to her breast. He happily latches on, sipping greedily. “Ah, hungry.” Sage quips, gently running her free hand over the newborn’s mostly bald head.

Once he’s fed, Sage gently deposits Dakota back in his crib. She’s just started to swaddle him in his blanket when she’s startled by a pair of warm arms wrapping around her from behind. As her surprise abates, she leans back into her husband’s embrace. “I told you I had him.”

“I know. But I got lonely without you.” He admits, pressing a kiss to her neck.

Sage tssks. “So needy. You’re so used to having all my attention, but now you have to share with little Dakota here.”

Her husband reaches one arm into the crib, and the infant happily grips his father’s index finger. “If I have to share you, I’m glad it’s with DJ here.”

Sage’s brow furrows. “DJ?”

“Dakota Junior, or DJ. It’s going to get confusing having two Dakotas around here, so he needs a nickname.”

“What’s wrong with Little Dakota?” Sage asks.

“Babe, I doubt he’s gonna like being called ‘Little’ once he’s past ten.” Dakota insists.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you made me promise to name my first born after you.” Sage teases.

“Hey, we both know I wasn’t expecting to be around.” Dakota retorts playfully.

Sage turns away to face Dakota, smiling as she drapes her arms around his neck. “Well, you can’t predict a medical miracle. Cancer didn’t stand a chance against you.”

“Don’t jinx me.” Dakota complains, but he’s obviously not that upset because he plants a kiss to her forehead.

“Babe, you’re more likely to get struck by lightning then get cancer again after ten years of remission.” Sage insists.

“Still, better safe than sorry.” Dakota insists.

Sage rolls her eyes, but she obediently turns around and softly taps her fist against the wooden railing of their son’s crib, ‘knocking on wood’. Dakota can be so superstitious, but his many endearing qualities outweigh her annoyance with his superstitious ways.

The new parents both stare into the crib, watching the baby coo and gurgle. “He’s really something isn’t he?” Dakota breathes out softly.

“A miracle.” Sage adds.

“I could watch him all night.” Dakota insists.

“But you shouldn’t, because you have a big day tomorrow.” Sage reminds him.

“You mean we have a big day tomorrow.” Dakota corrects.

“It’s your movie. I’m just going to help with the casting.”

“It’s our movie. I’d never be able to tell our love story without my muse.”

Sage smiles, rising up on her tip toes to press a gentle kiss to her husband’s lips. “A romance for the ages.” She whispers against his lips when she pulls away, just barely.

Dakota nods, tangling his fingers through her’s. “You’re everything to me. When I was sick, when things got hard, you gave me something to fight for.” Dakota insists softly.

Sage smiles, she never gets tired of hearing that. “I love you.”

“Not as much as I love you.” Dakota insists. He tugs her towards the door. “Come on, let’s go back to bed.”

Sage hesitates, looking into the crib. “I know they say we shouldn’t start bed sharing until Little Dakota is older……but how can anyone expect me to be away from him all night?”

Dakota smiles fondly. “Well, they let us take him home from the hospital, so we’re in charge now.” He makes his way over to the crib, resuming the swaddling.

“That’s too loose Dakota. Here, let me show you.” Sage demonstrates her perfect swaddling technique for her husband.

Dakota scoops up his little namesake when she’s done. “Got it. Thanks, Teach.”

….

…

A/N: With Every Heartbeat made me sad, so I choose to live in this Alternate Universe where Dakota Winchester makes a full recovery and he and Sage get the happy ending they deserve.

#with every heartbeat #weh #dakota winchester #dakota x mc #choices fanfiction

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wavesmp3 · 3 years

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before sunrise

kevin moon x reader - strangers to lovers au, fluff - based off the movie before sunrise - wc. 9.4k - warnings: mentions of alcohol, lots of dialogue, cursing, and a few attempts at comedy

synopsis → You and Kevin Moon only have one night together before his flight leaves the next morning. And before meeting Kevin, you never would’ve believed that one night is long enough to fall in love with someone.

The train rattles on and on, a blur of colors painted beyond the small window you rest your head against. A headache is forming, between your ears and behind your eyes, a small thrumming that’ll make the rest of this train ride unbearable if you don’t end whatever’s causing it. Except you don’t know whether to blame the rattling train or the lovers' quarrel from the couple sitting across from you.

You make another attempt to ignore the rattling and the arguing, holding your book closer to your face and starting the same paragraph you’ve been on since boarding the train. The effort does little to help on either account. You sigh, loudly, in the hopes that your annoyance stings the ears of the couple next to you. It does not. So you get up, gather your things, and move further down the car.

You settle into a new seat, the couple’s argument still audible but less intruding than it had been when you were sitting right beside them. You open your book to restart the same paragraph when someone interrupts you. Again.

“Hey, do you have any idea what those two are fighting about?”

You look up from between the pages, lifting your eyes to meet those of the person who spoke to you without lowering the book itself. You stare at him, taken aback almost, by asymmetry of the smile he’s directed towards you and how charmed you are by it. You swallow.

“Oh, sorry,” his body caves inwards, scratching a spot behind his neck, “do you speak English?”

You nod, too eagerly. “Yeah, no, I speak English. Just no clue what they’re arguing about.” You lower the book, folding in the page you’ve yet to move on from and leaning forward in your seat, just enough to catch sight of the couple whose voices get louder with each passing moment. “My German is not very good.”

“Ah,” the boy mutters, his pitch-black hair falling in front of his eyes, “that’s what that is.” He turns back to you, looks at you expectantly almost, then awkwardly laughs sitting back in his chair. He gestures to your book. “I’ll let you get back to it. Sorry to bother.”

And you’re about to tell him it’s fine, that you don’t mind the small talk, when you notice the book laying in his lap and the finger he has shoved between the pages to mark his spot. And the words sort of fall back down your throat once you do.

You return to your book, not even bothering to start the paragraph for what feels like the thousandth time. Instead, you stare at the printed page, passively listening to the heated German flying between the couple and thinking about the boy sitting across the aisle from you.

The couple stands up suddenly, dramatic enough to make half the car look up at them. One of them makes their way down the aisle in your direction, walking hurriedly and shrugging off the hand their partner places on their arm, as if they could not get way fast enough. You look towards the boy across from you with a raised brow. He makes a face at you, lifting his shoulders and shaking his head. You bite back a laugh, eyes following the couple as they exit the car. The sliding door opens with a whoosh and closes, their absence swallowing the car in silence.

“What are you reading?” The guy asks, pushing his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose.

You hold up the cover of your book for him to see. “You?”

He looks down at his lap, pursing his lips and chuckling a bit, hesitating, as if he wasn’t expecting you to return the question. He holds up the book.

“Series of unfortunate events?” You murmur, recognizing the cover.

“In my defense, I’m rereading it.”

“No judgement.” You tell him, lifting up your hands in surrender. “I read it when I was young as well.”

“It’s a good series, right?” You nod. “Thank you.” He huffs, resting his back against the train seat.

“Although, I’m not sure if it’s good enough to reread. Not sure I get why people reread anything, actually. I mean there are so many books out there, why bother rereading one you’ve already read?”

He shrugs at that, tilting his head and gaze fixed on the book. “Nostalgia, I guess.”

You accept the answer with a nod. The couple returns then, and the clamor of their argument returns with them. You both watch as they pass by your seats.

“Hey,” the guy begins again, sitting up in his seat and shifting his body until he’s in the aisle seat instead of the one by the window, “I was thinking of going to the lounge car. Would you wanna come with?”

“Yeah, sure.” You lean towards him. “Why not?”

—

“I’m Kevin Moon by the way.” He says once you’re both seated, extending his hand. You take it; give him your name. And there’s a draft that runs through the lounge car when he repeats it to himself. “So are you coming from Copenhagen too?”

“Yeah, I was visiting some family there?”

He nods. “And how are they?”

You laugh, giggle really, awkwardly despite the faux intimacy of his question. Nodding, you answer: “They’re great. Well—great is a bit much. Content, perhaps?”

“Content sounds good.”

“So where are you getting off?”

“Amsterdam.”

“What’s in Amsterdam?”

“No clue.” You laugh at the response, or maybe it’s at the quirk of his brow and the nervous tapping against his knee. “I have a flight out of there tomorrow morning. So I was thinking I’d explore the city some, attempt to experience all of Amsterdam in one night.”

“Yeah, and where are you flying to?”

“Back home.”

“Let me guess,” you start, a teasing lilt in your voice, “America?”

“Canada, actually.” He proudly corrects. “Where are you from?”

“All over.” You gesture around vaguely. “Moved around a lot growing up. And now I’m in Paris.”

“Is that where you’re getting off?” He asks, leaning forward. You nod. “Why Paris?”

“University.”

“Oh,” he looks shocked, “which one?”

“Would you even know it if I said?”

His mouth parts, eyes darting around somewhere above your head. “Yeah, probably not.”

“What about you?” You ask once your laughter has died down. “Still in school?”

He’s quick to shake his head. “Gosh, no. School was never really for me.”

“Why not?”

“I-“ he falters, tilting his head back at the question, “well, why are you still in school?”

“No real reason.” You plan to leave it at that, but when you look up at him, keenly waiting for you to continue, some part of you wants to elaborate on it as well. “Sort of like I’m not sure what I’d do with myself once I finish.”

“I feel that.”

“You feel that?” You echo, a laugh dancing under the question.

“Yeah.” He answers sincerely, eyes fixated on you and surprisingly serious. “I do.”

“Oh,” you blurt, taken aback by how genuinely he means it.

The waiter appears then, handing you menus and taking your orders after.

“So of all the places you’ve lived, which one felt the most like home?”

You think over the question, tongue poking at the inside of your cheek. “Maybe Copenhagen. I have the most family there.” You add as a half-hearted explanation. “But I don’t know, I guess no place has felt much like home yet.”

“Not even Paris?”

You shake your head. “There’s this quote that goes: what is a home if not the first place you learn to run from.”

“So is that what Paris is?” He asks, resting his head against his hand. “The place you ran to?”

You shrug. “Something like that.”

There’s a beat of silence, somehow you spend the entirety of it starting at Kevin. “You seem to be very well read.” He says finally, looking away first and folding a napkin over his lap.

“It’s just one quote.”

“One more than me.”

“Maybe if you stopped rereading ‘the series of unfortunate events’, we’d be on even footing.”

He gasps. “You said ‘no judgement’.”

“It’s called being polite.” He shakes his head disapprovingly. “So how about you? Were you just visiting Copenhagen, or…?”

“No, I’ve done the whole tour. Started in Madrid, hit Paris, Rome, Vienna, Budapest, Berlin, London, Athens, Prague, Florence, Lisbon… you know, all the big ones.”

“I hope not in that order.”

He laughs brightly. “No, not in that order. Thanks for the vote of confidence though.”

“Of course.”

“But, yeah, I bought the Eurail Pass a while back and decided I would see as much as I could.”

“How long have you been here?”

“About a month and a half now.”

“Wow. And just for a holiday or?”

“Yeah, well,” his face turns down, a cloud passing across the sun and casting a shadow over the table, “I had a friend in Madrid, but, uh, mainly—yeah, mainly vacation.”

You don’t prod any further, nodding at his half-baked answer.

“But what I’ve come to realize,” he continues on, “during these past few weeks, is that there’s something special about just sitting on a train and staring out the window.”

“What’s special about it?”

“For starters,” he gestures to the rolling green hills outside the window, “it’s beautiful. But also, I get these ideas while sitting here.”

“What sorts of ideas?”

“Like,” he hesitates, leaning back towards you, “well it’s gonna sound dumb to say outloud.”

You watch him carefully. The asymmetrical smile that you first noticed appearing on his lips again. And maybe that’s what makes you lean towards him and say,

“Try me.”

—

“Hey,” you push away your now empty plate and tap on the window as the train rolls to a stop, “isn’t this Amsterdam?”

“Oh yeah,” Kevin checks his watch, “it is. I guess I lost track of time sitting here.” You check the time yourself and realize it’s been over two hours.

“Well for what it’s worth, I really enjoyed talking with you,” you tell him, shifting in the seat.

He returns the sentiment, and you both continue to go back and forth until the train does actually stop, a loud whistle traveling through the lounge car.

“Well, this is me.” He says softly, sucking in his bottom lip.

You extend out your hand. “Nice to meet you, Kevin Moon.”

He shakes it. “Nice to meet you too.”

You watch him go, lugging a duffle bag by his hip and pulling a pink beanie over his hair. And once the door to the lounge car closes swiftly behind him, you slump into the chair resting your head against the window and scanning the group of people on the platform outside of it. Maybe, you think to yourself, I’ll catch him leaving.

“Okay, I have a crazy idea.”

You jump at the sound of his breathless voice, jolting up in your seat. “Kevin, what are yo—”

“Blow off Paris for one more night.”

“What?”

“Just—like I know this is crazy—but just listen for a second.” He tosses his duffle bag into the seat that was occupied by him a minute ago and places both his hands on the table, leaning down slightly. An action that leaves no room for you to think he’s joking. “My flight only leaves tomorrow morning, and I was planning on wasting time in Amsterdam until then. So come with me, let’s hang out for the night, and you can catch the first train back to Paris. I haven’t had a conversation like the one we just had in so long, and I don’t really want to say bye yet. So, let’s just see where this goes. And if it sucks or if you realize you hate me, then you leave, and we part ways just like that. No strings, no obligations.” He pauses there, chewing on his bottom lip and fingers curling around the edge of the table.

And for some reason, after his whole speech, you find yourself thinking about the arguing couple from the other car.

You grab your things. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Come on,” a grin fights its way onto your face, excitement teetering in every part of your body, “let’s go.”

And some small of part of you that’s hanging onto reason knows this is a terrible idea, a reckless and stupid idea that you would chide the protagonist of a horror movie for. But another part of you, the same part that can’t get over Kevin’s asymmetrical smile and the same part that said yes when he asked if you wanted to go to the lounge car, is too enthralled with the idea of continuing whatever this is to say no.

So this time when Kevin leaves, you don’t watch him go; instead, you follow him off of the train.

—

You’ve been to Amsterdam before, once on a holiday with your family that you can barely remember and again on a school trip when you were much younger. But despite the two times you’ve been to this city, walking beside the street and admiring the brightly painted buildings with Kevin feels like a first.

And after seven minutes of mindlessly walking around Amsterdam with a complete stranger, the reality of your earlier choice strikes you like a burst of wind across the cheek. The exhilaration that compelled you to get off the train withering away with each step. Not a word has passed between either of you since agreeing to Kevin’s plan.

“This is,” you start, voice hoarse and hiding a shy laugh behind your palm. “This is weird.”

“No, yeah, it’s awkward, right?” Kevin smiles, scratching a part of his neck. “Do you…” he shoves his fists into the pockets of his coat, “do you regret getting off the train with me?” He laughs after he asks the question, as if he’s embarrassed to even bring it up.

“No,” you tell him honestly, scuffing your shoes against the pavement and avoiding looking at him. “Not yet.”

In a corner of your vision, you see him nod, then smile. The asymmetrical one that first caught your attention. And in that moment, a tiny spark of exhilaration returns.

—

You and Kevin find yourselves in an art museum. The first activity you could find to fill in all the awkward silences. You take turns acting as guides explaining the curation of each piece of art. A suggestion that you had made and then come to regret when Kevin tries to argue that a modern sculpture of sunflowers is actually just the Shrek movies reimagined.

“And see that part,” he says animatedly, pointing at a corner of the piece, “is actually depicting that once scene in the beginning of Shrek 2 when—”

You just laugh, shoving his arm playfully and wandering on to the next piece.

“Hey,” Kevin calls from further along the wall, “come look at this one.”

“So, what is this one about?” You tease, meeting him beside the art piece. “Ice Age or Monsters Inc?”

“No bullshit explanation this time, actually.” He mumbles, eyes trained on the art still. “I really like this one.”

You take a moment to study the painting, done by an impressionist artist according to the blurb beside it. The piece depicts a whole bunch of couples dancing on a street.

“I like how the background is all a blur.” Kevin says. “As if each of the couples are so occupied with themselves that everything else sort of fades.”

“I think my favorite part,” you start, taking a step towards the painting, “is how the girl in this pair and the guy in this one are painted like their fading. Makes me feel like they aren’t real; like they’re a dream or a memory.”

“Or a ghost.”

“Yeah,” you smile at the thought, “or a ghost.”

Kevin leans down to read about the piece. “It’s called ‘Lovers Embrace’”

“I like it.” You declare, thinking over how fitting the title is.

He straightens back up, smiling. “Me too.”

—

The art museum is effective in easing the awkwardness between you and Kevin, acting as a distraction from the insanity of the current circumstances and your belated recognition of it, so that now, while meandering about a record shop he found, conversation flows as easily as it did in the lounge car. And when you realize that, another bit of your exhilaration returns, bursting within your chest and fluttering against your gut.

“I have an idea.” Kevin announces as you finger through a section of records.

“Another one?” You deadpan.

He flicks your arm, continuing, “We both pick a record to listen to. And then a random, third one for good measure.”

“How are we picking the third one?”

He hums in thought, drumming his fingers against the shelf. “Okay, I got it. Close your eyes.”

You point a finger at yourself. “Me?”

He squints at you, dramatically looking side to side and bringing the emptiness of this portion of the store to your attention. “Who else?”

“Fine but--”

“Just close them.”

With a long sigh, you do.

“Okay,” Kevin murmurs, spinning you around by the shoulders. He jerks you to a stop. “Now choose a record.” You push your hand out, feeling around for the nearest rack of records. “No, that’s boring.” He complains. “You have to walk around a little bit.”

“You know, we could’ve avoided this if you just chose the random record instead of me.” You huff at him, slowly walking around with your eyes still closed as per Kevin’s request.

“Watch out,” he warns, ignoring your comment, “you’re about to hit a stand.”

Eventually, you walk far enough from the place you started at. Blindly reaching out to the rack, you chose a record that feels the most worn around the edges. You open your eyes, blinking, and are about to read the cover when Kevin stops you suggesting you both wait until you’re in the listening booth. You agree, parting ways to pick your own record to listen to.

After a few minutes of browsing the store, you meet with Kevin outside of the listening booth, two records under your arm.

“Play yours first.” Kevin says, stepping into the booth with you. You pull the record out of its sleeve and place it in position.

Moon river, wider than a mile

“Ah,” he sighs, as the song begins to play, “I love this song.”

I’m crossing you in style someday

You swallow back a smile and mutter a small ‘me too’.

Wherever you’re going, I’m going your way. Two drifters off to see the world

“Kind of fitting, isn’t it?” He asks, laughing lightly and knocking his head back against the wall of the booth.

“Part of the reason I chose it.” You explain, turning your head towards him just in time to catch his eyes fluttering shut. An action that sends a familiar burst of exhilaration running heavily over your chest. He looks at peace like this, you think, his gold frames resting on the middle of his nose and a tuft of black hair slipping out from under his beanie. It’s only when the song ends, the repeated skipping of the needle replacing Sinatra’s voice, do you realize you’ve spent the entirety of it staring at Kevin. His eyes snap open at that moment; you’re quick to look away, busying yourself with the drawstring of your bag and ignoring the warmth that fills your body.

Kevin removes your record and fixes the one he chose in place. The song starts on a familiar chord.

Kelly, can you handle this?

You shoot him a look, just barely holding your laughter in.

“I know. Totally different vibe from ‘Moon River’ but this is the only Beyoncé song I could find.”

I don’t think they can handle this.

You start singing along. Kevin joins, dancing along as well despite how small the booth is. And when he starts twerking, you spend the last two minutes of the song laughing in shock.

The song ends, after Kevin declares his love for Beyoncé. You hand the Destiny’s Child record back to Kevin and pull the final, random record out of its sleeve and set it in place.

“How’s your Italian?” Kevin asks, as you straighten back up waiting for the song to play.

“No better than my German. Why?” He flips the vinyl’s cover around to show you. “Il Mondo by Jimmy Fontana,” you mutter as the first note rings throughout the booth.

No stanotte amore non ho più pensato a te

Kevin finds the translation online, scooting closer until the side of his arm is pressed against yours, phone tilted so that you can see. You lean in to better read the lyrics.

Gira, il mondo gira, nello spazio senza fine Turning, the world’s turning, in a space without end

Your eyes catch Kevin’s for the briefest of moments before he looks away, quickly refocusing his gaze on the opposite side of the booth.

Con gli amori appena nati, con gli amori già finiti With the lovers just now starting, with the lovers already parting

You don’t return to the lyrics, instead watching as his focus ping pongs between the phone screen and the wall.

Con la gioia e col dolore della gente come me With the joy and with the hurt of the people like me

His eyes flit over to your face. You look down, pretending to read the lyrics, swallowing.

Il mondo The world

And from a corner of your vision, you can see him watching you, can feel his eyes on you. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore how good it feels to know he’s staring.

Soltanto adesso io ti guardo, nel tuo silenzio io mi perdo Just now I see you, in your silence I lose myself

There’s a jerk of movement from Kevin. But the second you angle your head towards him, he tilts his chin up, smiling at the ceiling and tongue running over his teeth. You stare at him and consider for a moment: tearing your eyes off him, turning your head down again, and pretending to read the lyrics. But as quickly as the thought comes, it passes. And you find it impossible to care that he knows you’re staring, figuring that it’d be just as impossible to make yourself look away.

E sono niente accanto a te I am nothing beside you

His chin falls at the line, dark brown eyes dancing around the room before landing on yours. And this time, you don’t look away. There’s a sharp inhale. A loud gulp. The slightest turn of your body and an even smaller glance at the curve of his lips. His fingers flex, knocking against your knuckles, lingering for too long to be accidental. And it’s like time stops at that moment, like all the clocks in the world cease to tick, making you and Kevin halt as well, standing still, unmoving, staring at each other as if you hadn’t spent the past minute avoiding each other’s eyes.

And you swear, if the music hadn’t stopped, the scratching needle cutting into the air, you would’ve fell in love with Kevin right then.

—

“A piano,” you point out as you and Kevin are about to leave from the record shop. You go to it, admiring the dark brown wood and fingers ghosting over the ivory keys.

“Do you know how to play?” Kevin joins you in the corner of the shop that houses the piano.

“Gosh, no.” You pause, your middle finger hovering over a black key and tilt your head towards him. “Do you?”

He nods, taking a seat on the bench and patting the spot beside him for you. He starts playing a song you don’t recognize but one that manages to sound vaguely familiar anyways. Like it was playing in the background of a movie you can no longer remember the name of, or like you met the song in a dream and memorized the melody in your sleep before waking up the next morning.

And maybe it’s because you know this song without having ever heard it before or maybe it’s because the chords have been sitting in your soul every night since that forgotten dream but something about the song and something about this moment, makes you scoot closer to Kevin and rest your head against his shoulder.

He stops, barely, for the tiniest of seconds, fingers hesitating above the next key, then continues a breath later. And sometime between the end of this song and the start of the next, you feel his head lean back against yours.

—

You and Kevin decide to get dinner after leaving the record shop, choosing the first place you can find to fill your empty stomachs.

“Let’s ask each other some questions.” You suggest while you’re waiting for the food to come out. “One to help us get to know each other better, and we have to answer one hundred percent honestly.”

“Okay,” he nods, “I’ll start. Favorite color?”

“Green.”

“Gold.”

“Favorite movie?”

“Up.”

“Howl’s Moving Castle.”

You both continue like that asking each other for even more favorites: favorite food, favorite show, favorite holiday, favorite city. Vancouver, Kevin had answered to which you scoffed complaining that choosing his hometown is cheating. He only shrugged. You move onto firsts after: first phone, first kiss, first childhood memory, first job, first celebrity crush.

“You’re turn to ask.” You remind, hoping to quickly move on after confessing your childhood obsession with Chad Michael Murray.

“Okay,” Kevin hums, contemplating a new question and twirling his drink around, “how about… first love?”

“Oh, uh,” you scratch a spot on the table, “I’m not really sure I’ve ever been in love.” You pause there, expecting Kevin to say something. He does not. “Like I’ve dated before,” you sputter out quickly, filling in the empty space left by his nonexistent reply, “seriously, too. But I don’t think it was ever actually love.”

His mouth parts, chest inflates slightly, as if the words need a minute to boil in the back of his throat. They must never come, you think when his mouth closes and his chest deflates, lips tightly shut. A silence crashes over the table, awkwardly taut.

“What about you?” You return the question, cutting through the silence with what you hope is nonchalance.

“Oh, me,” he chuckles sheepishly, “probably freshman year band. I fell so hard for this oboe player.” You give him a look at the confession, sucking in your bottom lip and biting back a laugh. His face twists with confusion. “What?”

“I just can’t believe I got off a train with a band geek.”

“Hey,” he defends, “better than a serial killer.”

You shrug. “Not by much.”

—

It was Kevin’s idea to rent a boat to ride along the canal in. “The little foot pedaling ones,” he had requested, pointing them out. Luckily, you were able to find one before they shut down for the day. And the late timing of your activity made for a picturesque backdrop, the sun beginning to set as you drift along the canal, the sky immersed in varying hues of pink, yellow, and blue. Kevin had paused pedaling for a second to take a picture of the sunset which was fine until one picture turned into fifty.

“You know when you said you wanted to boat along the canal I sort assumed you were gonna help me pedal.”

“Last one.” He mumbles, the small shutter of his phone camera clicking before he shoves it back in his pocket and resumes pedaling with you. “More favorites?” He offers when the silence lingers for a little too long.

“Please, no. I know way too much about you now.” He laughs at that. “New topic.”

“Do you ever think about dying?”

You whip your head towards him. “Morbid much?”

“Yeah, I know, but seriously.” He says, brows lifted to further prove the sincerity of his question. “Do you?”

You turn back to the front. “I mean I’m alive, so yeah, sometimes. You?”

“Probably think about it too much if I’m being honest.” And there’s something that sounds distinctly like exhaustion in the way he says it.

“Would you rather know how you die or when you die?” You ask suddenly.

His answer comes just as quick. “When. Definitely when.”

“Why?”

“I feel like if I were to be told how I die, I’d spend the rest of my life avoiding it or trying to stop it. But there isn’t anything I can do to avoid the passing of time.”

“Profound.” You mutter, unable to figure out if you’re surprised or shocked by how well-thought his answer sounds.

“I told you,” he says, with a breathy laugh, “I think about death too much.”

“What about a goal in life?”

“What about it?”

“Have one?”

He considers the question, eyes trained on the water rippling in front of him. “To make a difference in someone’s life maybe.” He shrugs. “To be happy. I don’t know.”

“Being happy used to be mine too.”

He frowns. “Used to?”

“I used to be obsessed with this idea of happiness,” you tell him, nodding, “used to spend all my time avoiding whatever made me sad. But whenever I chased happiness, I was also the most dissatisfied with my life.” You stop for a second, check Kevin’s reaction, and find a frown still imprinted on his face. “I kinda see it like clouds now. They’re pretty from afar, but when they’re up close, we call it fog. Even when happiness was placed right in front of me, it never felt like enough. Most days, I’m still teaching myself that happiness is not a permanent state of being; it’s an emotion, and it comes and goes like the rest of them.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while. Silently pedaling the boat along the canal. Then finally—

“Damn, who’s the profound one now.”

—

You and Kevin find yourself on a bridge that overlooks the canal after renting the foot pedaling boat. The sun is barely visible, taking its last dip in the horizon before disappearing altogether. You hold out your hand to hover in one of the last golden rays of light, shivering at the warmth.

“Do you ever feel like you’re running out of time?”

“Running out of time for what?”

“To experience life.” Kevin further explains, with a heavy exhale. “I feel like there’s this sick pressure and expectation created by romanticized coming-of-age movies that my youth is supposed to be the best years of my life. Like I should be living every second of it to the fullest. And then I end up spending all my time wondering how I’m going to live up to my youth instead of actually living it.”

“So, is that why you did it?” You pull your hand back in, tucking it under your chin. “Did you ask me to get off the train with you so that in ten years you can look back and feel like you made something of your youth, like you didn’t waste it.”

And something about the bluntness of your question must spread through the air and tug at the end of his lip. “Well, that’s a harsh way to put it, but,” he frowns, inhaling mid-sentence, “I don’t know. Maybe—yea, maybe it was part of the reason.” He pivots around, back pressed to the railing, elbows propped on the ledge, and face turned away from the last sliver of setting sun. You study his face: the point of his chin, slope of his nose, and high set of his cheekbones. He’s pretty. Too pretty, even. A realization that lands as heavily in the pit of your stomach as it did the first time you noticed on the train. And perhaps it’s just that: a realization. Or perhaps, more terrifyingly, it’s something closer to attraction. “Well, why’d you do it?” Kevin asks, turning his head slightly and catching you watching him, something you’ve both done too many times at this point to keep count of. “Why’d you get off the train with me?”

You swallow. “I thought about that couple from the first car. When you asked me to come with you, I thought of that arguing couple and saw my future flash before my eyes. I felt like I could see myself fifteen years from now. Could see myself falling in love, getting married, and somewhere along the way falling out. I could see myself sitting and fighting in the middle of a train. And a part of me just knew, that if I didn’t go with you, if I stayed on that train and continued to Paris, I’d spent the rest of my life regretting it, wondering what could’ve happened.”

You turn away from the sinking sun, swivel your head around to face Kevin again and find him differently than you had left him. Head tilted and biting at the inside of his cheek. Side pressed against the bridge’s railing so that he’s facing you directly. You straighten up, position yourself to face him as well, another asymmetrical smile growing on his face while you do.

“I’m really glad you decided to get off the train with me.”

You step closer, and when your hand knocks against his, he catches it, fingers curling around yours. “Me too.”

“Although, I do hope that if you’re married in fifteen years, it’s happily and that you’re one of those sickeningly in love with each other couple that everyone hates.”

He doesn’t look at you as he says it, watching your intertwined hands with a shy smile instead. And it’s somehow, oddly intimate when he squeezes your palm while wishing you a successful, hypothetical marriage. You feel suddenly breathless, and more prominently, fearless.

“I want you to kiss me.”

His eyes snap towards yours, pupils dilated and darker than normal. He doesn’t say anything.

You know he heard you, know—slightly less confidently—that he wants to kiss you as much as you want to be kissed. So you step towards him again, tugging at the end of his sleeve.

“Kevin.”

His gaze drops to your lips. “Yea.”

“Kiss me.”

And rationally, you know soulmates don’t exist. But there’s something about the way his lips fit perfectly against yours that almost makes you reconsider the belief.

—

“You know when I suggested we play pool, I really wasn’t expecting to have my ass handed to me like this.” He groans, staring at the five of his balls still left on the table.

“Next time suggest darts.” You tell him, voice raised to be heard over the loud pub.

You put the pool sticks back and seat yourselves at one of the empty tables.

“Okay, I have a question,” he says, leaning forward against the small booth table. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“Definitely not.”

“Really?” He sounds surprised.

“You do?”

“Well…” he hesitates, tongue darting out between his lips, “I don’t know if I believe it but I also don’t not know that I do.”

Your face contorts at his wording. “I don’t think—”

“Okay, yes, I know, but like have you never fallen just a little bit in love with a complete stranger?” You shake your head slowly. “Like you’ve never had a barista compliment your jacket or your eyes once and then spent the next week thinking about them?”

You place a hand to your heart. “I genuinely had no idea this was a common occurrence.”

“You know what, no, I take it back, never mind,” he quickly says, the tips of his ears turning red and hand waving in the air to dismiss the thought. “New topic.”

A breathy laugh escapes from between your lips. “Alright, new topic,” you hum, nodding your head along to the music playing in the background, “do you believe in soulmates?”

He smiles at the question. “Yes and no.”

“Explain.”

“The term ‘soulmate’ has this implication that love will fall into place between two individuals, that they won’t have to work for it, and that it was chosen for them instead of by them. But isn’t it so much more special to look at someone and decide to love them specifically. Decide to love them on purpose. But more than that, the general idea of a ‘soulmate’ relies too heavily on the understanding of love as a feeling. And it’s as you said before about happiness: emotions come and go, and feelings fade. I imagine, more accurately, that love is a choice as much as it’s a feeling, one that you have to get up and make every single day. So yeah, I believe soulmates are real, but I don’t think they’re found; I think they’re made.”

And after his whole spiel, the only thing ringing throughout your head is: holy shit.

He looks up at you, shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he starts timidly, voice suddenly lacking the immense clarity it held just a second ago, “what do you think?”

“I think,” you swallow, a lame attempt to digest everything he just said, “that I’ll never look at love the same again.”

—

By the time you and Kevin leave from the pub, it’s completely dark out. Streetlamps now lit up and the roads less crowded with only a few whispering groups around each corner. You walk mindlessly around the city’s twisted streets, deciding when and where to turn on whims. And somewhere along the way, while you’re making a comment abput the closed antique store, Kevin’s hand finds its way into yours. You squeeze his palm, a silent affirmation, when he does.

“Wait,” you exclaim, halting suddenly in the square that you and Kevin have stumbled upon, “I think I’ve been here before.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, dragging him towards the fountain in the center, “I came here with my family once. I remember seeing this fountain and wanting to throw a coin in.”

“I mean are you sure? Fountains are pretty common.”

You shove his arm. “I swear this is the same one.”

“Here,” he mutters, reaching into his pocket, fishing out two coins, and placing one in your palm. “make a wish now.”

You hold the coin to your lips, closing your eyes while conjuring a wish and then toss the coin in the fountain. Kevin tosses his in a second after you.

“Hey, look,” you take a seat on the ledge of the fountain, pointing at the church across the square, “there was a wedding there today.”

“You know, I learned in school, I think, about Quakers, and,” he starts, sitting down beside you on the ledge, “they have the most interesting weddings.”

“What makes it so interesting?”

“Well for one, there’s no officiant. No handing off of anyone. What’ll happen is the couple walks in, stands in front of the entire congregation, and just stares. And it’s silent too, no one speaks unless they feel compelled to do so. Then after an hour or so, that it; they’re married. Just like that.”

You turn on the ledge to face him. “Okay let’s try it.”

His eyebrows waggle. “Getting married?”

You look at him unamused. “Just the staring part.”

He nods. “Okay, ready?” he shuts his eyes in preparation, “3, 2, 1, go!”

Your eyes open at the same time as his, and you nearly laugh at the sheer amount of competitive spirit radiating off Kevin at that moment. And when you mention it, he shakes it off, muttering something about how you’re supposed to be silent.

When you start leaning in towards him, it’s to mock him and his competitiveness. Or at least, it is at first. But somewhere along the way, you lose track of how close you get to him. Lose track of time as well. Too distracted with studying the concentrated furrow of his brows and the flecks in his eyes to notice whether you’ve spent one minute or twenty getting lost in them. And it’s a cheesy thought, yes, but there’s something about him and the black hair falling in front of his forehead that makes it so hard to care.

You inhale. “I think I feel compelled to do something now.”

“What?”

You close the distance, pressing your lips to his for a brief moment, then pull away.

“I won,” Kevin murmurs, a smug smile painted across his face, “you closed your eyes first.”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, trying and failing to hold back a smile. “You’re ridiculous; you know that right?”

“I do.”

“Good.”

You kiss him again.

—

“Kevin, what are we doing?” You ask for the third time as he pulls you into the red telephone booth and shuts the door. “You do know that these don’t actually work anymore right?”

He shushes you, pressing a finger to his lips and picking up the receiver. “I have to make a call.” He clears his throat, holds the receiver up to his ear, and makes the ringing sound. “Come on, Jacob, pick up.” You stare at him waiting for the punchline. It never comes. Instead, he fixes you a look and nods his head at your empty hand.

“Ah, I see,” you hold out a fake phone in your hand, clearing your throat and putting on a fake deep voice. “Hey, Kevin. Long time no talk. How’s Europe?”

Kevin gives you a funny look. “Hey, Jacob. Europe is great, but why does your voice sound like that?”

You clear your throat again returning to your normal voice. “My bad, I just woke up.”

“That’s better. Anyways, I called to tell you that I met someone on my very last night in Europe.”

“How’d you meet them?”

“On the train to Amsterdam actually. They were sitting by this really annoying couple, so they got up and sat right across the aisle from me. What are the chances, right?”

“Probably, low.” You begin, a familiar exhilaration filling your stomach at what you’re about to confess. “Unless, of course, it wasn’t by chance at all. Unless they saw you getting on the train, thought you were really cute, and used the couple as an excuse to sit by you.” You smile as you say it, finding the way Kevin looks at you after the admission utterly swoon worthy.

“Well, even if that’s true. I think I sort of blew it with them in the beginning. They saw me rereading ‘A series of unfortunate events’ and probably thought I was so lame.”

“Nah,” you mutter, smiling at your feet, “they probably found it endearing.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I got a good feeling.” When you meet Kevin’s eyes, he’s still watching you, and you find it humorous, almost, how you can barely keep your eyes off each other now especially considering how impossible it felt to do so in the beginning. “So what happened after that?”

“Oh well, I asked them to come to the lounge car with me and guess what?”

“What?”

“They said yes.”

“Incredible.”

“Then, we got to talking, and, Jacob, everything they said sounded so smart and composed; I felt like a bumbling idiot in front of them. I mean, you wouldn’t believe how incredibly brilliant they are, not to mention gorgeous, and...” his voice trails off, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. You lean towards him a bit, as if that’ll get you closer to hearing the rest of the sentence.

“And what?”

“And I think I fell in love with them right then.”

For a second, you forget to breathe.

Kevin hangs up the fake phone call, handing the receiver to you. “Your turn.”

You take the phone from him, pretend to dial the number, then make the ringing sound while you wait for Kevin to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Chanhee. It’s me. I have to cancel on our lunch plans tomorrow.”

“Oh no. Why? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, no, everything is fine. I just met someone on the train and—god, I know this is going to sound insane—but I got off the train with him in Amsterdam.”

“That is insane,” his eyes widen dramatically as he says it. “What made you get off the train with him?”

“Well, for starters, the arguing couple.”

“Right, and of course, I, Chanhee, know exactly what that means.”

“See, I knew you’d understand.” You laugh. “But other than the couple, you know, we started talking on the train and he was so sweet and really cute in this clumsy, flustered sort of way. I don’t know. I think a part of me had already decided to get off the train with him before he ever asked.”

“That sounds…” he falters there, as if he’s still searching for the right word, “special.”

You nod. “It feels special too.”

“So what now?”

“I’m not sure.” You answer honestly. “He’s from Canada and has a flight back there tomorrow morning.”

“Well, do you plan on seeing him again?”

The question comes like a slap to the face from the palm of reality itself. One that you probably should have anticipated; a question that probably should’ve crossed your mind at least once. But somehow, you’ve neglected to wonder what’s to come of this fling past tonight.

You hang up, and the obnoxious clatter of the receiver falling back into place rings throughout the booth.

“I guess we should talk about that.”

“Yeah, I guess we should.” He mumbles, something in his demeanor changing with the words.

A silence overcomes both of you, and it feels like you’re in the listening booth of the record shop again, avoiding each other’s eyes and waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Well it’s—“

“I think—“

You both start at the same time, words crashing together in the air. He laughs, gesturing for you to go first.

You exhale sharply, tugging on your fingers and already nervous to hear how Kevin will respond. “I just don’t think we should fool ourselves here and make this out to be anything more than it is.”

“Yeah, no. I was gonna say the same thing.” He nods solemnly, visibly gulping as if the words are hard to swallow. A smile fights its way onto his lips but doesn’t manage to meet his eyes. “So what now?”

“Well, we have tonight,” you begin, stepping closer, finding his hand, and twirling his pinky finger with yours, “I say we make the most of it.”

“In that case,” he returns the gesture, capturing your hand and pulling you a little closer, “I have an idea.”

—

Kevin’s idea ends up with you standing awkwardly off to the side of a bar, quite literally twiddling your thumbs. You reach for Kevin’s necklace that’s now secured around your neck and wonder what part of his plan explains why he gave it to you before entering this establishment. You sneak a few glances at Kevin who's speaking with the lady behind the bar. The lady finally nods, smiling cheerily and heading around the bar. Kevin swivels around, shooting you a thumbs up before receiving the bottle of wine that the lady had retrieved for him.

“How did you do that?” You ask once you’re both out of earshot, exiting from the building.

“I told her that I just proposed.”

You look at him unconvinced, wiggling your left hand in his face. “No ring.”

“That’s what the necklace was for.”

“And it worked?” You say, disbelief seeping into your voice. “She believed you?”

He scoffs. “I don’t know why you look so shocked when you’re literally the one I convinced to get off a train with a complete stranger.”

And, well, he makes an excellent point.

—

You end up at a park, laying on your backs and making silly comments about each star. You have jackets laid out on the grass beneath you and another draped over both of you acting as a blanket.

“Have you ever heard of that theory?” You say, turning to lay on your side. “About how people fall out of love for the same reason they fell in.” He turns to lay on his side, nodding. “It terrifies me.”

He frowns. “I think love alone is pretty terrifying.”

“Did you mean it?” You reposition yourself with an arm under your head. “Back in the telephone booth, did you mean it when you said you fell for me on the train.”

He stares at you for a long moment then smiles, whispering a small but sincere ‘yes’.

“Can I tell you a secret then?” He nods. “I think I fell for you too.”

“When?”

“Guess.”

“On the bridge?” You shake your head. “During dinner?”

“Before that.”

“In the museum?”

“You’re getting colder.”

“Ah,” he sighs in understanding, “the listening booth.”

You nod. “It was while we were listening to that Italian song, ‘Il Mondo’. Each time I felt you looking away, I would look at you. Then you’d turn your head back, and I’d pretend like I wasn’t staring. That moment—well, I guess it was pretty mundane. But, I don’t know, it still felt a little like magic.”

“Mundane things can be quite magical.”

“Which one is love then: magical or mundane?”

He shrugs. “Both, I think.”

There’s a silence, and it lingers for long enough to remind you of the awkwardness between you and Kevin after getting off the train. However, this silence is so much more different than that other one because it’s the kind that only comes when two people understand each other.

Kevin is the one who ends up breaking it, cutting through the night’s overwhelming quiet with a soft voice.

“I feel like that painting from the museum right now.” He recalls the title: “‘Lover’s Embrace’.”

“Is that what we are?” You question, a bit of misplaced insecurity dipping into your voice. “Lovers?”

“Is there any other way to describe this?”

“I don’t know.” You inhale. “Strangers?”

He waits a beat, then offers: “Soulmates?”

You’re reminded of the conversation you had in the pub, and his gut-wrenching, life-altering definition of the term. You meet his eyes steadily. “Do you believe that?”

He smiles. “Do you?”

And there’s something about the way he says the question that makes it sound like a dare, like a request. As if he isn’t asking if you believe it, but rather, he’s asking you to believe it.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. But it’s a lie, you do.

“The way I see it,” he begins, scooting closer, “if someone were to give me an ultimatum: I’d marry you right now. And I know it’s insane, I know that probably just sounds like some grand romantic bullshit, but I’m serious. With how I’ve come to feel about you tonight, I could wake up every day and put in the work of choosing to love you.”

“And what about the couple on the train?”

“What about them?”

“What happens when we become them? What happens when we hate each other so much, we blow up in public?”

“Who says we will?”

“But hypothetically,” you insist, “what happens then?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes.”

“It’s gonna sound stupid.”

“Just tell me.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” He lets the statement sit for a second, inhaling deeply before continuing. “I’d accept the inevitable arguing in the middle of a train if I was doing it with you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“But that’s the craziest part,” he lets out a breathy laugh, “I actually do.”

“How?” You huff. “How can you sound so certain that you’ll love me despite all the things you’ll come to hate me for?”

“Because you got off the train with me,” he says, shaking his head like the answer is obvious. “And at this point in the night, I’m pretty convinced that you’re the only person in the world who would.”

And yeah, you think laughing, he’s probably right about that part. Because who else would be insane enough to get off a train with a complete stranger? Who else would fall in love on a train and while listening to an Italian record? Who else but you and Kevin Moon?

“You know what they call that?”

“What?”

You raise your brow, something terrifying hanging off the tip of your tongue:

“Soulmate culture.”

—

You used to love sunrises. Loved how golden they are. How they coat everything in sight, lighting up whatever darkness was left by the night. You always saw them as a promise of something new, a new day and a new beginning. But today, when the sun does finally rise, you can’t seem to remember why you used to love them so much. Especially not after you spent the entire night dreading this particular one.

The walk to the train station had been quiet for the most part, a solemn and groggy acceptance that it was your final stretch of time together. And now standing with Kevin at the platform, you’ve never hated the arrival of a train more.

“I should probably get on the train now.”

“Right,” Kevin mutters, chewing on his bottom lip and bouncing on his heels. He laughs, awkwardly, rubbing at his eyes. “God, I hate goodbyes.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I hate this one.”

You hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face between his neck and shoulder. He hesitates for a second, as if he’s shocked by the gesture, then tightens his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. And the only thing you can think about while hugging him is how this is the first and last time you’ll ever do so.

You pull away, give him a small, sad smile, then grab your things, stepping onto the train. You give him a wave before disappearing into the car. From the window by your seat, you can still see him. He finds you, giving you a smile and another wave. And when he turns around, beginning to walk out of the train station, nothing has ever felt more wrong.

“Kevin!” You shout, unlatching the window and sticking your head out of it. He whips back around. “Let’s just do it! Let’s see each other again!”

It takes a second for Kevin to react. Too long, your brain convinces you already wishing the words back. But it’s as you sink back into your seat that he breaks out in the most brilliant grin. “Fuck it, yeah, let’s do it! Where?”

You laugh at the absurdity of this moment and how unreal it feels. “Here! Amsterdam, at this train station, on this platform.”

“Okay, here. In one year?”

You shake your head. “I can’t wait that long.”

“Me neither.” He laughs, an exhale of pure joy that you can see even from the train.

“Six months from today.” You tell him over the train whistle as the wheels start to move, pulling you away. “See you then.”

He waves goodbye again, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting, “see you then!”

You fall back in your seat, immediately burying your face into your palms. Your hands trail down, rubbing at your neck, clutching the part of your chest that falls over your heart, and—what is that?

You look down, recognizing the object around your neck and lifting it up with the pad of your thumb. And as you stare at the pendant of Kevin’s forgotten necklace, your smile grows.

—

SIX MONTHS LATER

The train station feels so much more different than how you left it. The weather now colder, and the platform decked with lingering holiday decorations. You get off the train and look around, praying for a familiar face.

“Hey.” The voice comes from behind you. You pivot around, so quickly your head spins. Or maybe the spinning sensation has something to do with how euphoric it feels to see Kevin again.

“Hey.”

“You came?” He asks, not bothering to hold back his elation.

“Well, yeah,” you reach into the pocket of your coat and fish out the necklace he left six months ago, “you forgot this.”

“Funny coincidence, huh? Unless, of course, it wasn’t a coincidence at all.” He hints with a smug grin. “Unless I left it on purpose so that you’d have a reason to come back.”

“If that’s the case, then you spent six months without your necklace for nothing.”

“Oh, and why’s that?”

You step closer, smiling. “Because I already had a reason to come.”

a/n: i had way too much fun writing this,, also the translation of the italian song is half google and half me kind of assuming what the lyrics mean so idk how accurate that translation is

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tsukkiboii · 3 years

Note

hi bby! i said i was gonna leave an ask and i meant that. can i ask for a tsukki, kenma or kuroo? maybe they about an argument and then they make-up? maybe they fought about fans flirting with them or video games or whatever! ill let you decide! love you ❤❤❤❤❤

my first request sjhjshshsj🥺🥺

bea bb thank you i love n appreciate you so much <3 i decided to go with kenma and arguing over a video game bc i vibed with it the most hehe, i hope you like it!! this fic is so much longer than i had intended it to be im sorry-

and i apologize that this took so long :( life has been really messy and all over the place :((

fights, tears, and make-ups

pairing: kenma kozume x reader

word count: 1.4k

genre: angst (but i honestly can’t tell if it’s super ansty-), fluff, hurt/comfort

synopsis: kenma shouldn’t have taken you for granted, but he did.

“Kenma, you need to eat dinner.”

“In a sec,” you heard the blond-haired boy reply from his gaming room, undoubtedly with his eyes still glued to the screen.

“Kenma. You haven’t eaten all day. You need to eat.”

Seconds pass with no response. With a sigh, you grabbed the bowl beside you and walked towards his room. Sliding open his door, you find him completely focused on the game. He’s pale, dark circles under his eyes drooping and anyone walking in would see he’s exhausted, needing rest, but he can’t. The only thing on his mind is that he has to pass this level.

Walking over gently, you place the bowl onto his table. Kenma jumps at the noise, not having known you were there, the motion making his screen character go a little too far left and being crushed by a falling rock.

He throws his console onto the desk and gives you a stare burning through your skin. “I was about to pass that level. I’ve been stuck on it for a day and you just had to enter right then.”

“Kenma, you haven’t eaten a single thing today-”

“Oh, shut up.”

You tense up under his harsh words, about to speak when you’re cut off by more of his rambling.

“Kenma this, Kenma that. It’s annoying. Quit acting like I can’t take care of myself. Things were so much quieter and calmer without you anyways.”

His tone is barely above a whisper, almost as if he thought it was too much of a bother to talk to you. Taken aback by his words, you take a moment to fully absorb what he had said, every word cutting a slash into your heart.

“I hope your life goes back to calm and quiet” were the last words you left him before you left the apartment with tears streaming down your face.

Kenma’s eyes linger on you for a moment before going back onto his screen. He instantly regrets what he said, but doesn’t go after you. Instead, he restarts his game and his character dies again, at the exact same place.

The bowl of food on his table goes cold.

The first day with you gone passes fine for Kenma. As usual, he goes to sleep at way too late and gets up at noon-ish and scrambles together some food to prepare for his stream. His viewers tell him he doesn’t seem as energetic, and isn’t smiling as much. He says that he’s a little tired and didn’t sleep too well last night, which was only half the truth. He feels a little empty, mind often tracing back to your smile and then immediately to your tear-stained face. He eats two bites of bread for dinner and decides to go to sleep.

“I’ll be fine,” he thinks, “I don’t need y/n to live.”

The days only spiral downhill from there. Snack wrappers thrown all over the apartment and laundry piled up into stacks. He hasn’t eaten something actually cooked in days. Having no energy to do anything, he calls off streams for a whole week. Most of his time is spent lying on the sofa with his face towards the ceiling, replaying his last conversation with you in his head over and over and over again.

“Things were much quieter and calmer without you anyways.”

I’m sorry. Please come back.

He contemplates so many times on whether or not to call you, to text you, to try and get in touch with you. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was the one who hurt you, told you you were annoying when he didn’t realize how much you matter to him.

Kuroo checks in on Kenma every single day. By the fourth day, he’s determined to make him talk to you.

“Kenma, you can’t keep living like this.”

Tired eyes glued to his screen, the pudding-head boy grumbles in response, Not enough energy in him to do anything else.

Sighing, Kuroo unplugs his entire monitor and forces his chair to spin towards him so that he’s staring Kenma right in the eyes.

“Kenma, I’m serious. You need to talk to her.”

“And then what?”

Kuroo staggers a little, taken aback from the question.

“And then what, Kuroo? I hurt her. She deserves so much better anyways.”

The rooster-haired boy takes his phone and throws it onto his lap.

“You need to call her sooner or later. I don’t know when, but you need to.”

Kenma gently holds his phone with two hands with his thumbs hovering over the screen, constantly switching between the keyboard and the delete button. He debates himself for fifteen seconds before giving up and pressing the call button.

The phone has rung seven times and you have yet to pick up. He’s certain that you won’t pick up at all. Yet on the eighth ring, you pick up.

“Kenma?” He hears from the other side.

His voice hitches in his throat. A thousand thoughts are crossing his mind and his breath is suddenly stggered. He tries to say “I’m sorry”, “Where are you”, and “Please come back” at the same time, but none of them seem to be coming out.

“Kenma, you there?”

“Yn.”

His voice is so empty, dull, tiring and you almost drop your phone out of shock.

“Where are you?”

Coming back to reality, you swallow and reply, “Friend’s house. Why?”

“Can we, uhm, can we talk?”

Your side of the line goes silent for three whole seconds before you take a deep breath and reply, “Sure. Give me a time and place.”

“If you don’t mind, can you just come home?”

HIs voice quivered at the word home, like it wasn’t really home to him anymore. Not without you. You couldn’t help but tell him you’ll be back in a bit.

As you reach closer to your building, the more your heart threatens to jump out of your throat. There’s a knot in your stomach that you just can’t get rid of, and even though you know this was all his fault, your mind can’t stop racing. None of this was your fault, was it?

Before realizing, your hand was on the door handle and without thinking too much, you push the door open.

To say you were shocked from the state of the apartment is an understatement. Yes, Kenma wasn’t the tidiest person in the world, but you knew he’d never let the apartment get this messy. The moment you walked in you knew he would be in a bad state too, which confused you. But he didn’t want you here, did he?

Suddenly, you hear footsteps coming towards you. Frozen in place, you wonder if this was a bad idea. If you should just leave and tell him you couldn’t make it, but it’s too late. By the time your head has gotten back into reality, he was standing in front of you, eyes full of guilt and regret.

“Hey,” you try to say, which turns out to be nothing more than a whisper.

Hesitating for a second, he stumbles towards you and falls into your arms, leaning into your touch, burying his face into your neck and mumbling “I’m sorry” and “please forgive me” again and again.

“I was stupid. It’s all my fault. I was frustrated and took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. Everything is so much better with you and I was being dumb. I’m so sorry please don’t leave.” His eyes were brimmed with tears, threatening to spill out any second. He’s rambling, words that he had meant to say to you over the past days all spilling out. He can’t seem to be able to stop. You’ve never seen him so scared, so vulerable.

Holding him tight, you take a deep breath, swallowing the many things you wanted to say to him, to blame him, to yell at him, to tell him it’s all his fault.

Instead, you hold him tight against you.

“Shh, Kenma. I’m here now. I won’t leave, okay? I’ve got you, we can talk this out.”

He grabs onto you even tighter. “Thank you. Thank you thank you.”

You were going to have a lot to talk about, you both knew that for sure. And maybe things aren’t going to go back to how they were for a long time. But right now he was in your arms and you were in his, and he was never more determined to fix what he broke.

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #kenma fluff #kenma angst #haikyuu headcannons #taru writes

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Note

I’ve got a prompt for you! 💜

Ok, I have no idea why I got this idea just now but it opposed into my head and you’re my fave for Modern AUs so I’m passing it onto you! So like modern college au ski trip where Jaskier twists his ankle on the slopes and has to stay behind while everyone else does a moonlight hike or something. Geralt also stays behind and we get some fireside cuddling. Maybe Lam, Eskel, Aiden, and Coen are there to tease or ship it or something when everyone gets back ☺️ Unsure if it’s happening in a cabin or hotel/resort lobby. But yeah. I’m placing it at your feet, do with it what you will 🤗

(geraskier-trashh)

I’m sorry this took so long!! But here you go my darling!!

Ships: Geraskier and Lambden. Also on AO3

Warnings: Minor injury, and sexual references. _______

Geralt was pacing in the lobby of their hotel. It was nearly half past five and Jaskier should have been back by now. They were in different groups for their ski lessons, Geralt being a more advanced skier than his friend. All the other ski school groups has returned over an hour ago. Only Aiden and Jaskier remained uncounted for. The sun had crept behind the snowy peaks of the surrounding mountains. The ski lift had stopped working and yet there was still no sign of Jaskier and Aiden.

Lambert was lounged out on one of the sofas by the bar, tossing a stress ball into the air and catching it again in a never-ending rhythm. “Relax.” Lambert sighed. “They’ll be fine. They probably just decided to après-ski”

Geralt growled at his brother. “No, not tonight. Jask knows that we’re night skiing tonight. He hasn’t shut up about it all week. He’s been looking forward to skiing to together for a change.”

Lambert snorted. “Don’t know why you’re letting him. He’ll slow you down.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “And you’re willingly skiing with a snowboarder.”

Aiden was learning to ski in Jaskier’s intermediate group after lunch but Lambert’s boyfriend’s real skill lay with the snowboard. He tore up the slope when he was on his board and spent most of morning in the snow parks doing tricks and flips off the jumps and rails that could be found there.

Lambert grinned dopily. “The things we do for love, white wolf.”

“How come you aren’t more worried? Your boyfriend is missing too.”

Lambert shrugged and ran a hand through the thick red curls on his head. “Ski school said all the groups were back. You know what Aiden and Jaskier are like when they’re together. I’m surprised they’ve not been arrested yet. Our boyfriends are terrible for each other.”

“Not my boyfriend.” Geralt sighed. No matter how many times Geralt said it, Lambert still insisted on calling Jaskier his boyfriend.

“Their phones probably died.” Lambert suggested, completely ignoring Geralt’s protest.

Geralt shook his head. “Jaskier would never let that happen, besides he has a portable charger.”

Lambert rolled his eyes. “They’ll be fine, Geralt.”

Geralt continued his pacing in the lobby and Lambert restarted his game of catch. The thud of the ball landing in his hand was driving Geralt mad. Every catch was a second passed that Jaskier hadn’t returned. He was having visions of the pair of them being lost off the side of the mountain. The idiots had probably decided to take the lift back up without their instructor and gotten injured as a result. Not even the picturesque hotel could calm his nerves. It was warm and bathed in a soft yellow glow. There were paintings of the ski resort hung on the walls. Some of the paintings showed the resort as Geralt knew it, but there were several of the mountains with luscious green grass. Edelweiss flowers were often found engraved into the wooden frames. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself, the warm scent of hot spiced wine filled his nose but it wasn’t enough. He needed the startling blue of Jaskier’s eyes and his gentle chamomile perfume.

The hotel was gorgeous and it was expensive, too expensive but Jaskier’s parents had insisted that Jaskier and his friends had needed a break. The trip had been paid for in full before any of them could protest the cost. The gang insisted on paying for their own drinks though. They refused to let Jaskier’s parents, no matter how rich they were, foot the bill on that one. The hotel overlooked the main slope, a blue run that ran all the way into the village, ending by the bubble lift and a collection of ski rental shops and bars. The best bar for après-ski though was half way up the mountain. Everyone knew that. From their hotel they could often see the drunk skiers and boarders trying to make their way down the hill, at least they could when they weren’t amongst them. Geralt always tried to remain alert enough that he could help Jaskier down. His friend always seemed to forget the steep hill that lay between them and their beds. If it was too bad they would take the snowmobile shuttle back down but Jaskier called him a party pooper when they tried.

From their hotel they could ski in and out of the boot room. It was a luxury Geralt had never known in all his years. He was used to trekking through the snowy villages with his skis on his back, and Jaskier’s too in recent years. The brunet would always whine and pout until Geralt helped to carry his skis. He didn’t mind, not really.

The doors opened letting in an icy breeze. Geralt’s eyes snapped up and the noise of Lambert’s stress ball stopped, bouncing across the tiled floor. Geralt heard the shuffle of fabric but he didn’t look round. Aiden was half carrying a limping Jaskier through the door. Jaskier’s arm was around Aiden’s neck and he had his ski poles in his other hand as a support. Geralt rushed over to help.

“Jaskier!” He growled. “What the fuck happened?”

“We went shopping after skiing. I thought I would be able to buy that painting of the horses you like… as a gift.” Jaskier whined. “But I slipped on some bloody ice. I sprained my ankle. It fucking hurts.”

“Nothing’s broken.” Aiden noted, his soft french accent coming through more strongly like it always did when he got emotional. “We’ve just got back from the hospital.”

Geralt was furious. They’d been all the way to the fucking hospital and no one had said a bloody word.

“Now before you say anything, wolf.” Aiden said sharply. “He landed on his phone and it broke.”

“And yours?” Geralt asked with a raised eyebrow.

Lambert snorted. “As if he charged it last night. He’s a fucking nightmare.” Lambert patted Geralt on the shoulder and then wrapped his arms around Aiden’s waist, burying his face into the snowboarder’s neck. “Hey kitten.”

Geralt hummed and he scooped Jaskier up into his arms. His ankle was clearly hurting him and it would help to take the pressure off of it. Geralt watched his brother for a few seconds, noting the way he melted into Aiden’s embrace, and felt bad. Lambert had been worried…. very worried. He’d just hidden that from Geralt because Geralt had been a fucking mess.

And Jaskier was only his friend.

Friend.

The word felt bitter on his tongue.

How long had it been since he’d thought of Jaskier as a friend? He’d been completely gone on the man for at least a few years now. It had been a completely daft revelation. Jaskier hadn’t been doing anything special or even particularly charming at the time. He’d been asleep on Geralt’s bed after Geralt had gotten back from a pub night with his brothers. The brunet had been drooling all over Geralt’s pillows and wearing one of his shirts as he sprawled like a starfish over the bed, and he’d been snoring.

Geralt had watched his friend sleep for a few minutes before he’d realised the snoring wasn’t even irritating, hell he even found it… cute?

And with that the epiphany had hit him like a truck. He was in love with his best friend.

He’d grabbed a spare pair of boxers from his drawers and gone to sleep in Jaskier’s room. It had taken all his self control not to slid into the single bed next to Jaskier.

He’d been in love with him ever since and stoically ignoring it the best he could. Jaskier was very open in his feelings. If he loved Geralt then Geralt would know. His friend wasn’t exactly subtle.

“Are you alright?” He murmured as he carried Jaskier over to the sofas by the large open fireplace in the lounge area.

Jaskier’s arms were wrapped around his neck and Jaskier snuggled up against his chest. It hurt in some ways. It could be so easily interpreted as something more than it was. Geralt wouldn’t change it for the world. As much as he wished for more, he lived for the calm moments of intimacy that fell between them.

“Yeah.” Jaskier mumbled, his face red from the cold. “It’s sore but I’ll live.”

“You won’t be able to ski tonight.”

Jaskier pouted and groaned. “Geralt! We never get to ski together.”

Geralt chuckled and dumped Jaskier onto the sofa before sliding down next to him. Jaskier shrugged out of his bulky teal ski coat and pulled his snood over his head. His hair messed up completely but Geralt thought it looked endearing. Jaskier dropped the layers on the floor before curling up against Geralt’s chest.

“If it’s alright by the morning then we’ll skip ski school.” He suggested.

“Hmmph.”

“That’s a whole day together.” Geralt draped his arm around Jaskier and pulled him closer.

“It’s more romantic at night.” Jaskier sighed.

Geralt’s heart stammered in his chest and he felt the heat rising in his cheeks. “Romantic?”

“I meant… fuck.” Jaskier tried to shuffle away but Geralt grabbed his arm and then brought his hand up to Jaskier’s cheek.

“Romantic?” He asked again, his voice low and unsure in his words.

“Ah well. Freudian slip.” Jaskier bit his lip and his soft blue eyes were looking everywhere except at Geralt.

“Jaskier.”

“Yes, darling?”

“Did. Did you want it to be…”

“Yes.” Jaskier answered too quickly. “Of course I do. The whole world knows that, Geralt.” He covered Geralt’s hand with his own and his cheek pressed into Geralt’s palm. “But I know you don’t and that’s alright, dear friend.”

“I don’t?” Geralt asked with a smirk.

Jaskier frowned. “You don’t… Do you?”

Geralt tilted his head and brushed his thumb along Jaskier’s cheek. “I. I do yeah.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. His face flushed even darker than before. Geralt usually would have said the soft glow of the fire was to blame but he was starting to wonder.

“This could. Well, I mean.” Jaskier gestured to the fireplace. “This could also be… romantic?”

Geralt let out a shaky breath and rested his forehead against Jaskier’s, his eyes shutting on their own accord. “Yeah?”

“Hmm.” Jaskier agreed and Geralt could feel his warm breath against his skin.

“Careful. “ He murmured. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

“God forbid.” Jaskier laughed and captured Geralt’s lips in a kiss.

Geralt hummed against Jaskier’s lips, still cold from the icy weather outside. Jaskier’s hands slid into Geralt’s hair and Geralt couldn’t resist pushing Jaskier down onto the sofa so his back hit the soft cushions. His lips brushed from Jaskier’s lips along his jaw and he nipped at the soft skin of his swanlike neck.

“Geralt…” Jaskier gasped quietly and a hand squeezed his arse.

Geralt gave a low growled before sucking hard at the pale skin under his lips, biting gently until a dark bruise began to form. Once he was satisfied by the mark he kissed the tender skin before pressing their lips together once more. Jaskier moaned into the kiss and one of his legs wrapped around Geralt’s arse.

“Oi!”

They broke apart, panting and red faced. Jaskier groaned and buried his face against Geralt’s shoulder. “Fuck.” He muttered.

Geralt smirked at Lambert, not caring that they’d been caught. He was too happy to care. “Brother.”

“You have a room.” Lambert snapped. “Use it.”

“Darling, it’s young love. Be nice.” Aiden purred and pressed a kiss to Lambert’s cheek. “We were going to see if you were still coming out skiing tonight but I see you’ve finally got your head out of your arse instead. Have fun boys, be safe. Don’t do anything I would do.”

Geralt laughed. “Isn’t that supposed to be don’t do what you wouldn’t do?”

Aiden winked. “There isn’t much I wouldn’t do, white wolf.”

Jaskier finally emerged from Geralt’s shoulder and held his hand out. Aiden high-fived it with a smirk before Lambert dragged his boyfriend away towards the stairs. “We need to get ready kitten.”

“But darling.” Aiden said loudly, making sure everyone in the lobby could hear. “I’ve been waiting all day to get you out of those clothes.”

“Fuck.” Lambert cursed. “Little shit, upstairs.”

“You love me!”

“Fuck knows why. Come on.” Lambert gave him a shove up the stairs.

“Stop acting like you’re the one in charge, wolf.” Aiden sang sweetly. “Everyone knows how much you like to beg for—”

Aiden’s words were cut off by Lambert’s hand over his mouth.

Geralt grinned before turning back to Jaskier. He gently brushed Jaskier’s hair out of his eyes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “You wanna take this upstairs?” He asked gently.

To his surprise Jaskier shook his head. “Not yet.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am very interested in continuing this upstairs.” Jaskier gently thrust his hips up to make his point. Geralt groaned softly as he felt Jaskier’s erection rub against his. “But I’d like to enjoy the fire a little longer first. It really is rather romantic. A warm fireplace in an alpine hotel with snowy mountains outside.”

“Romantic bastard.” Geralt laughed and bumped their noses together gently.

“Yes, but I am your romantic bastard.” Jaskier paused and licked his lips. “If you’ll have me.”

Geralt sat up, his legs straddling Jaskier’s waist. He rested his hands on Jaskier’s chest. “Mine.” He said softly. “And I’m yours, if you’ll have me?”

Jaskier laughed, his blues eyes crinkling in the corners and Geralt’s heart felt warmer at the sound his melodic laugh. “Of course I’ll have you, you daft idiot.”

Geralt grinned and leant back down to rest his head on Jaskier’s chest. “Hmm.” He replied, hoping Jaskier would understand his words. If anyone could translate then it would be Jaskier, but he was suddenly feeling almost overwhelmed by the emotions in his chest, the happiness. Words just didn’t seem like enough.

Jaskier’s fingers gently combed through his hair and he let his eyes close as he focused on the steady flutter of Jaskier’s heartbeat. “I love you too.” Jaskier murmured. Geralt smiled against Jaskier’s chest. Jaskier heartbeat raced a little faster.

“Mine.” Geralt repeated in a whisper.

“Yours.” Jaskier agreed. __________

Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @awitchersbard @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @caspertheassholeghost @feraljaskier

#the witcher #geraskier #lambden #modern au #skiing #lambert x aiden #laiden #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #wolfie's witcher writing #suddenly-a-twilight-blog

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theresnosafeharbor4myships · 3 years

Text

TITLE: Out of the Grave - Chapter 1: The Void

A/N: An alt ending/fix-it fic. Because we and they deserved better--so I made it happen.

83 hours and 37 minutes. Not that he'd kept a count exactly. Just that his eidetic mind knew the exact moment Abbie had left this world, taking his heart with her and leaving him hollow, and his quick thoughts often calculated the duration he'd kept breathing without her. He'd spent the first 6 hours and 24 minutes working with Miss Jenny and Master Mills—and ultimately, ironically, his old pal the Horseman—to try to defeat Pandora and force her to release his Lieutenant, only to learn she'd actually expired. The dreams he'd had, sweet and aching moments with Abbie reflecting on their meet cute, time in the Archives, relaxing on their front porch where she'd tried to explain why he should let her go, would never suffice. He hadn't said the things he'd wanted—needed—to, hadn't explained how she'd helped save him: from roaming lost in this world, from imprisonment and institutionalization, from his son and the myriad monsters they'd encountered, from a wife who'd never truly been honest with him. And yes more important matters: from going mad, drowning in loneliness, feeling isolated, floating adrift in a world that still confounded him sometimes. And at times even saving him from himself. No, he hadn't said any of those things. And now he never could. Which is why he'd spent the next 49 hours and 52 minutes drowning his sorrows, his hollowed out chest, and his overactive mind in rivers of alcohol. He hadn't gotten smashed or wallowed in oblivion. No, he'd needed it to last, so he'd drunk just enough as the hours passed to keep the clawing ache in his empty ribcage from swallowing him whole. Miss Jenny had come by sometime around hour 32, banging on the door so hard he thought the roof would cave in. If he'd cared at all, he might feel concerned about her waking the neighbors in the dead of night, but he couldn't muster enough decency to. He'd ignored her at first, thinking she'd take a hint, or at least think him not home, but her insistent knocking continued. "I know you're in there, Crane." More banging. "Let me in there, or get out of my sister's house." It was a low blow, but one he deserved, for Miss Jenny had lost just as much as he had. If anyone had earned the right to drown her demons with liquor right next to him, it was her.

He'd stumbled to the door—okay, maybe he had gotten smashed, for he felt her knocking vibrate through his brain—bottle in hand, and unlocked it, turning the knob and walking away before he'd even seen her face. The slam of the door rattled the house but not him, and he shuffled back to his couch cushion, dropping down onto it, sipping from the bottle, and staring into the fireplace embers. Jenny said not a word, simply restarted the fire and plopped down on the other end of the couch, gazing at the vibrant blaze as it danced shadows around the room. After a few minutes, he threw out his arm towards her, bottle in hand, and she took it from him, downing a few gulps to try to silence the ache. She tried to return it to him, but he waved her off, waiting another 30 minutes before slowly rising—why did simply existing hurt so much?—and retrieving a few more bottles, which he'd purchased on his way home from that graveyard, from the stash in the kitchen. He placed them on the cushion between them, an open bar for them to sink into. Another few hours dragged by, and he felt more than heard Jenny crying at some point, the room changing from desperation, anger, and pain to grief and mourning, and he joined her, tears cascading down his face unabashedly. Their silence made their shared sorrow all the more palpable, exchanging emotions they couldn't speak aloud, the shroud around them sucking the whimpering breaths out of them as easily as it'd done to their partners. How could he have kept silent all this time, holding in and swallowing down the words that'd desperately begged for release? He'd tried to ignore them, the burgeoning affection, passion—now that it mattered no longer, he could admit it, cowardly fiend that he was—and love he'd harbored for Abbie since long before proprietary permitted it. He'd killed his wife for her, for Heaven's sake! And while he pretended mere friendship, ignored everything that screamed at him to make his feelings known, he hadn't hidden a damn thing. Miss Corinth, Betsy, even Pandora had seen his love for her. What an abominable fool he'd been. And now the one person who needed to know, who should've heard it from his own lips a thousand times over, never would. He let the tears burn down his face, though they washed none of his self-recriminations away. He deserved every horrid thought he had about himself. They ripped through his mind, scathing him, leaving him more raw and aching than he could ever remember feeling before. His entire body ached, joints, marrow, muscles, head, chest. And still he sipped on, needing the numb, refusing the full onslaught of trauma a clear mind would force him to face. He'd lost before, lost battles and comrades and his dignity. Lost loves and his homeland and best friend and life. His world and his wife and his son and the dreams he'd had and held and hoped for. Hell, he'd even lost Abbie a few times. But never where he couldn't get her back. Never where he couldn't find a way to follow, to find, to free her. And Master Corbin too. To lose both within hours of each other...they could shrivel into oblivion right now and it'd feel better than this. Master Joe had become his compatriot, his comrade in arms against the monsters and the daily dose of estrogen floating around the Archives—not that he'd trade the Mills sister or Agent Foster for ten regiments of men—not to mention a brother and friend. And Abbie...the ache in his chest seized him anew, and his shoulders hunched in against the black hole of despair threatening his breath. He couldn't begin to enumerate all the things she'd become to him. Partner, secret-keeper, fellow Witness, best friend, confidant, companion, roommate, voice of reason, inspiration, keeper of his heart. He thought he'd been in love once, had been in fact, but losing her had felt nothing like this. He'd sat in pain, suffered with the guilt that he'd not devoted enough to her, hadn't held tightly enough to a union that hadn't been what he'd agreed to, despaired that she'd died by his own hand in an effort to save Abbie. He'd had to—it hadn't even been a choice by then. Now, though, without Abbie...he didn't know how to keep breathing, wasn't sure he wanted to. Couldn't see beyond the bottom of the bottle. How could he walk through the world, the Archives, the town, this house, with memories of her around every corner, breathing down his neck, invading his mind, shredding the broken pieces of his heart into shavings? How could he solve the mysteries of the supernatural without her intellect, expertise, and help? What was one Witness to do without his other half, the best part of him, his anchor to this era? He couldn't sit still with himself and his maudlin ruminations another second. Without thinking, Ichabod hefted himself off the couch and shuffled down the hallway, making a pit stop before grabbing a box of tissues from the hall closet. He set them down on the cushion between them and took his seat again. Jenny had stayed until the sun was well into the sky, barely any words spoken but sharing the pain of their losses just the same. She'd stretched her hand out towards him, bridging the empty spaces around them with a simple reach of her arm across the cushion. He looked at her hand, open and alone in the expanse between them, and he slid his hand into hers, both of them holding on and squeezing tightly, attempting to convey all the things they couldn't speak with words. A moment later, she slipped quietly out of the house, the finality of the door clicking closed somehow louder than the slam she'd entered it with, sealing him into a solitude he'd never comprehend. More hours passed as he'd slept off the nasty hangover he wouldn't admit he had, as he sat in the bathtub letting the hot water steam over him until it cooled off and had him shivering, as he roamed aimlessly from room to room, gazing longingly at all the remnants of Agent Lieutenant Grace Abigail Mills: her hairbrush, those heeled boots that still left her a foot shorter than him, the cappuccino she'd just started drinking again at his behest, her pea coat with the faux-fur hood that made her look adoringly like a diminutive Eskimo. Now, just over 84 hours had passed, and he still didn't have a sweet clue as to how to get through the next one, still sat in this one corner of the couch, only this time without a drink in his hand. Without so many things... Without a case to work, without his partner in crime and, he'd begun to hope, in life from here until the end, without a purpose, he might as well lay back down in that cave he'd emerged from and sleep for a few more centuries. "Crane." Her voice, soft and lilting and perfect, floated to him, a haunting sound he both craved and feared. He'd thought he might have imagined her during his indulgent consumption of alcohol, but no...it was here in his lucid moments that he'd conjured the sound of her, the voice he'd long to hear until the day he drew his last breath. "Crane." She sounded hesitantly happy, guardedly optimistic, a smile coming through her tone. Exactly how he heard her in his mind, same as he'd done when she'd been lost in the catacombs. He shook his head slightly to escape from her, not ready for conversations with her yet, everything about him still too raw to face all of the things he needed to apologize for, all of the things he'd never had the audacity to tell her when she'd stood by him, encouraged him, spurred him on. "Ichabod." She accompanied her insistent tone and the rare use of his first name with a hand on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, scrambling up from the couch to face whatever ghoul had come to destroy his feeble, battered mind. And his jaw dropped. There she stood...Abbie. In one piece, small in stature but large in presence, beautiful and strong and...breathing. How could this be? "Abbie...?" His whispered question sounded more like a squeak, but he didn't dare try again, wasn't sure what devilry was at work here, arriving to destroy him when he was at his lowest, his most vulnerable. She looked at him, her expression a mixture of sadness and apology, a small smile of hesitation and hope playing on her face. "Hi."

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proudfreakmetarusonniku · 3 years

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primeboys angst hc….?

You mean, apart from the exile ones I already did? Sure. It’s more fucked up than angsty but it is both.

Tommy was pretty much doomed the second he joined the server, but to be more specific Dream's obsession with Tommy started just before the disc wars, during the conflict between Ponk and Sapnap.

The entire disc war was an excuse for Dream to “play” with Tommy, but to Tommy it was when he learnt he couldn’t trust anyone and anything. Throughout his desperate attempts to hide his discs, Dream would do some convoluted scheme to steal them, it literally taking many deaths and a hard thought enderchest to secure his discs (and he knew even then it wouldn’t end there).

Around this time, Dream made one of his hidden bases full of supplies, but instead of supplies it was slowly but surely filled completely with things related to Tommy. It started off as a few pictures, writings of plans to restart the war, and slowly grew over the years- the bloodstained coat from his death in the L'Manburg war, some of the identical hoodies he kept in bulk, pictures dating back to before Tommy even joined the SMP. It was last added to just before Dreams arrest.

Much like the disc war, to Dream the L'Manburg independence war was an excuse to “play” with Tommy, though he let his friends believe it was out of fear of the new nation. Killing Tommy twice is something Dream would consider some of his happiest memories.

After L'Manburg gained freedom, Dream continued to egg on Tommy about the discs now that he had, making absolutely sure there was no way Tommy would ever forget. After all, be it negative or positive, he wanted to make sure he was always in Tommy's mind.

After Dream learnt Tommy was a devout follower of Church Prime, he immediately not only got the idea of building a church in the server for Tommy, but masquerading himself as his brother DreamXD, the god of the religion of Church Prime. After all, would Tommy disobey his own god?

Apparently the answer was yes. It was entertaining enough, though, so Dream didn’t really care.

After Tommy and Wilbur were exiled, it was only natural that Dream would help his favourite little mortal. After all, Schlatt was boring and a useless pawn. Even Wilbur was far more entertaining, but of course he was in it for Tommy, handing him all the supplies he thought he’d need and a letter he’d let himself be somewhat truthful in just for him.

It was this time where the seeds of Tommy's third exile were planted in Dream's head. Tommy's look of fear, the anger and betrayal and loneliness he had when he was first exiled and even when he was in Pogtopia were priceless. If he could just engineer a situation where it was just Tommy, and Dream could watch and play all he wanted, well that would be perfection.

Unfortunately, of course, Schlatt had the better deal- a book that allowed DreamXD to use some of his limited power in the mortal realm.

The first thing Dream wished for was Tommy himself. This bound his and Tommy's fates together for eternity (and possibly even past that). No matter how far one of them ran, the other would always be able to find them, even in death.

The first thing Dream got to work on after the Pogtopia war was working on getting his exile plan through, griefing buildings and framing Tommy for it. He’d intended to be more subtle, have someone on the cabinet discover Tommy’s “crimes,” push for exile inside the board rooms no one else would hear, and when Tommy found himself all alone be his “saviour.”, but he didn’t mind the direct route.

Again, I’ve already done exile headcanons, they’re linked above!

Once Dream found the tower in the ruins of Logstedshire, he honestly panicked. The idea of a world without Tommy would be unpalatable, a world without any sort of fun. He tried to revive Tommy immediately but that didn’t work because obviously Tommy wasn’t dead.

Dream didn’t know Logstedshire was close to Techno's home when he built it, but he supposes it must be part of the guarantee he and Tommy were bound together now.

After leaving Dream, Tommy still carried many of the traits he'd learnt to avoid pain in exile on, no one but him and Dream knowing of the origins. I mentioned how he seeks affection by shoving his head into people’s hands so they’ll ruffle his hair in the exile post, but it’s not just that. It’s how he always plans an apology at every situation, it’s how quickly he'll deny ever feeling like he wants to hurt himself, it’s how he’ll go along with almost anything as long as it would only hurt himself.

Doomsday to Dream was a form of punishment for Tommy daring trying to leave him. He didn’t give a fuck about who lived or died, he didn’t even care about removing a political rival. He just wanted to make sure Tommy knew how badly he’d fucked up, and that there would be nowhere for him to run.

Tommy knew he wasn’t going to die at the disc finale. He’d hoped it, because he knew what awaited him if he lost was worse than Death.

Still, sometimes he has dreams where it’s just him and Dream alone and Dream ruffles his hair and everything’s alright and so much simpler and for a second he regrets not listening, just for a second.

Tommy's lockdown in Pandora's Vault was volatile. Sometimes it almost was like exile, Tommy scared and subservient, other times he tried his best to fuck with Dream. Dream alternated between barely provoked fits of violence or desperate unrestrained affection.

Dream didn’t plan to kill Tommy, he was just so, so, frustrated, and he didn’t think ahead. After he realised what he’d done, he spent the next few days alternating between manic laughter and crying, refusing to let go of the body and speaking to it as if he were alive.

Meanwhile, in the afterlife, Tommy basically spent the whole first month/day in absolute shock. Oh, he knew Dream was a bastard. He fucking hated him. But still, the idea of Dream killing him seemed like a sick joke. That was the one thing he trusted Dream would never do, the one piece of trust left in him.

Dream's excited demeanour after Tommy was revived wasn’t at all an act. He was overjoyed that he wouldn’t be without Tommy any longer.

Dream's offer of immortality is honestly less an offer and more a threat. Dream doesn’t age, so that gives him plenty of time to find a way to cure the issue of canon dying, and whether Tommy ages weird due to being a test subject and undead or not, there’s definitely ways of prolonging a lifespan. When he finds a way to give himself infinite canon lives, he'll do it to Tommy too. And then the fun can really begin.

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp headcanosn #dsmp headcanons #tw abuse #tw torture #tw manipulation #tw self harm

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mysticaltigersorceress · 4 years

Text

Insubstantial

This is a piece I did for @nakunakunomi 's Trope Writing Challenge. Somehow, the prompt generator just smelled the angst on me, I nearly died laughing when I got the prompt xD.

The trope was: Confessing your love to someone unconscious/in a coma, only for them to wake up.

Random Word I had to include: arrangement.

Hope you enjoy, and #sorrynotsorry. I at least decided to end happily.

Length: 1.9k

Warnings: reader gets injured (not described in detail, but blood mentioned), angst

Summary:

Ao3: over here uwu

Usopp would be the first to (quietly) admit that he was a scaredy-cat. Did it ever hurt to err on the side of caution when living such a dangerous life? (He would argue that no, no it did not.)

But when it came to you, there were so, so many things that scared him. Not that you were scary, you were just– Oh gosh, everything you did set free kaleidoscopes of butterflies in his stomach; a simple smile meant just for him was enough to stop and restart his heart faster than any battle or foe ever had.

He wanted to tell you so badly that he lo– lov– liked you, very much. Usopp had rehearsed hundreds of scenarios in his head where he told you how he felt. Of course, he had also envisioned what your response may be. Some days, he imagined telling you poetry he wrote for you and you would swoon over his words, showering him in adoration and begging him not to stop. Other days, he imagined you laughing at his silly serenades but accepting them anyway, perhaps even making up a ditty of your own for him.

Oh, who was he kidding? At the end of the day, you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, not in that way. He didn’t want you to hate him for trying to force something that wasn’t meant to be. Your relationship was fine as it was right now, wasn’t it?

Usopp would crack jokes he just knew would make you laugh (and nearly got strangled several times by the crew for some of his pranks), and you would tease him and make references to inside jokes with him. He would save your favorite snacks for when you would help him tend to his pop-green garden, and you would steal his hat while you worked in the sun. Usopp even strayed further into battlefields than he normally would like, just to make sure you always had backup. And even then, you would always watch out for him to make sure no one got too close to him, saying “a sniper always worked best with distance, right?” The unspoken arrangement he had worked out in regards to how your relationship worked was something Usopp decided he could live with. Perhaps it was not perfectly ideal, but good friends would just have to be good enough.

Until it suddenly wasn’t good enough.

Until suddenly, you were crumpled on Sunny’s deck, life slowly seeping out of you, hit by an unexpected attack.

An attack you had shoved Usopp out of the way of.

It wasn’t enough as he scrambled across the deck to you, whilst the Strawhat Pirates rained justice upon those who dared harm their nakama.

It wasn’t anywhere near enough as he screamed for Chopper, clutching you desperately in his arms, trying to get some form of consciousness to register in your expression. Pressing his hand then shirt to the wound, anything to try to staunch the bleeding.

Everything he previously thought was enough for him felt wimpy and hollow as you lay limp in the infirmary, breathing ever so shallowly. Chopper had to eventually kick Usopp out for repeatedly panicking, thinking your breathing had stopped.

The words and feeling that he normally tucked away in the back of his mind now screamed relentlessly at him as he collapsed outside the infirmary with the rest of the crew, waiting for word of your condition. He nearly totally cried when Chopper said you were stable for now.

Day after day was spent by your side, coming up with a million reasons to stay with you whenever possible, a million excuses more as to why he always had to be there. All of the reasons were technically true, however, he never said his biggest reason of all.

That he lo-

lov-

Of– of course he was worried about his nakama, you had saved his life! He wanted to be there when you woke up, to thank you (and perhaps to smack you upside the head for doing something so foolish). To ask you why you would let yourself get hurt for him, when you had so many strong nakama around you. If you, perhaps– no. You were his nakama after all. That's all it was. Concern for a fellow crewmate. Nothing more.

He'd tinker by your bedside, quietly narrating his actions (and occasionally making up your responses as well.) He could almost picture exactly how the exchange would go when you woke up. You would open your eyes, groggy but feeling considerably better. You'd see him there and ask him if you had your favorite snack in his bag (which he totally did) and cheekily ask if he’d been worrying this whole time about you (which he totally had been). Usopp didn't like to think he was that predictable, but maybe you two just knew each other that well.

So when he walked into the galley to hear the words, “They may or may not wake up”, he was filled with a fear and a fury he had not felt so strongly since he was told they had to continue on their journey without Merry.

“What do you mean they may not wake up?” Usopp growled, clenching his fists in a feeble attempt to keep his hands from shaking. Chopper jumped guiltily at Usopp's question, and he could feel the eyes of the crew turn to him.

“They’re in a coma, Usopp. They could wake up in a few days. Or it could be weeks, months, years.” Chopper spoke reluctantly. “We have to be ready in case they never–”

“DON’T SAY IT!”

Choppers face creased worryingly. “We don’t want it to happen, but–”

“BUT WHAT? You’re just going to give up on your nakama!?” Tears were forming in the little deer’s eyes as Usopp yelled.

“Usopp.” Usopp froze as his friend and captain called his name. No other words had to be spoken. Usopp opened his mouth, but his throat was tight. None of the words felt right. There were too many of them. They were too harsh. Too painful. Too little for everything he needed to express. So he ran out.

He walked into his little tinkering space only to walk straight back out again. He was quite sure attempting to work on any project would simply leave him more frustrated than he already was. He tried to water his Pop-Greens, but the garden was so empty without you there. Before he knew it, his feet had carried him back to the infirmary. He sighed as he let himself in, head hung low; you would probably be upset at him for yelling at Chopper like that. It wasn’t Chopper’s fault you were in a coma. He needed to go apologize to Chopper, to everyone.

“Usopp.” Usopp startled at Franky’s voice, not having noticed the cyborg when he entered. The heavy weight of Franky’s hand settled on Usopp's head before he could try to escape or squeak out an apology. “They’ll wake up when they’re ready. And we’ll be right here waiting for them.” He then ruffled his hair and walked out, shutting the door softly behind him.

Usopp dug his nails into his palms until they stung, furiously straining to hold back the emotion slipping through every crack. His cheeks were soon soaked and he tasted blood from biting his lip in his attempt to stay quiet. A soft sound caught his attention and his head whipped in your direction.

You were still laying exactly as you were before, quietly breathing. Something about seeing you calmed him, despite all the bandages and IV’s. He was able to let all the racing thoughts drift to the back of his mind, and sunk exhaustedly into the chair beside your bed.

A single hand rested atop your sheets, and he found himself taking your hand into his. Your hand was so limp. It was so easy to imagine you were– no! You would wake up, and when you did, oh no, what if you lost your memory, or what if you couldn’t make a full recovery? Or–

“No! Damn it!” Usopp cursed. He wasn’t going to imagine the worst. For once in his god-damned life he was going to be positive! He was positive you would recover! He was positive you would smile again! You would remember him, you would remember the crew! You would get back to perfect health, and you would live out your dreams! You would... be happy to see him.

Usopp rubbed his thumbs against the back of your hand. There was still a little scar there from when one of his plants nipped you, back when he first planted his Pop-Greens, when the crew reunited in Sabaody after two years apart. The quiet moment you both had in the Sunny’s garden was something he held onto dearly and thought about frequently. You had listened so closely as he told you about his new plants and time in the Boin Archipelago. A certain flower caught your eye, and before he could warn you, it bit your hand. Of course, it had to be one of the poisonous ones, and just as Heracles’n had taught him, he sucked the poison out of the wound and spat it to the deck then wrapped it with bandage. For a fraction of a second, there was something he couldn’t quite identify in your eyes, but then he told you that you should have Chopper look at it just in case. As you walked away, something in him screamed to tell you how he felt, but just as usual, he let you walk away. He let himself act cowardly, despite all his declarations otherwise.

And now, more than ever, he regretted the words he frequently swallowed. And, maybe, just once, since you were asleep, he could say them. It would be good practice, to see if they fit right in his mouth. If they fit right, being said to you.

“Y/n… Please, wake up. We miss you… We need you.. I– I need you,” He gazed softly at your face, before lowering his head and holding your hand to his forehead. “I know I’m a damn coward, but please wake up so I can tell you at least once to your face, whatever you may think. I– I–”

Usopp cursed himself for stumbling over these words. Why was this so difficult?

“You’re– you're everything to me. You’re my friend. You’re my sunshine. You’re confusing and addicting and I always want to be with you, and I want to make you as happy as you make me. I just– I– I love you.” Usopp finally whispered. “And it’s a stupid dream, but I hope you love me too.” Tears flowed freely down his cheeks again, and he squeezed your hand tightly.

And something flicked his nose.

Usopp jerked up in shock to see you wearily smiling at him.

“Aww, you missed me?” You croaked. Usopp began openly sobbing and yelling incoherently. Softly chuckling, you weakly tugged him closer and moved the hand he held to his cheek and brushed it lightly. “I’m sorry I made you worry.” You then pulled him toward you and hugged him as best you could, and (after getting over his shock,) he wrapped his arms around you as well, holding as tightly as he could without causing you pain.

You found your eyes welling up from the emotion in his declaration, and tightened your hold on him. “I suppose I'm a coward for not telling you before, but I love you too, Usopp.”

#one piece #usopp #god usopp #usopp x reader #cliche with hazel #my writing #mvwriting #one piece fanfic #reader insert #one piece fanfiction

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fandomarchiveilyd · 4 years

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You’re my Favorite Shouta Aizawa x reader oneshot

warning: Fluff

Word count: 1748

masterlist

When y/n agreed to teach at UA, she didn’t understand the exact amount of stress it would add to her daily life until she actually started the job. However, this is not to say that she hate’s her job. y/n thrived over helping students train towards their ultimate goal to heroism. Her bubbly personality is loved by all of her students and for the most part, her class enjoyed every lecture. She was always so engaging and hands on with her explanation, and she made sure to keep each individual students’ quirk in mind in order to help them push through their limitation.

And as much as she loved her job, y/n would be the first to admit that being a UA teacher takes a lot out of your personal life. She rarely has time to herself in order to remind her that she is more then just a teacher, but she is y/n, who had her own loves and hobbies outside of the UA walls. Ever since she had to move on campus and start nightly patrols, the rare hours to herself dwindled down to almost nothing.

That’s why y/n is so grateful to her work best friend Shouta Aizawa.

y/n has no idea how stoic, sleeping bag wear, stone faced, no emotion Aizawa became her best friend when she’s the exact opposite to him personality wise, but nevertheless, they kept each other sane at work. A feature that they need to survive their chaotic work environment, especially when you have to work with a living boombox and a walking BDSM master.

It was one of those days where y/n could barely keep her eyes open. The night occupied her time with grading homework and patrolling the campus. She was barely able to get two hours of sleep before she had to wake up to restart the whole routine. Her normally bubbly personality was lack luster as she treads through the day.

During her lunch break Aizawa plopped his sleeping bag at the table she was napping at. y/n shot up from her resting position.

“I swear I was not sleeping Principal Nezu!” She insisted, even though her eyes were barely open. Aizawa let out a single chuckle and sat at the chair in front of her.

“Yeah, you’re very convincing.” y/n groaned and tried to wipe the sleepys out of her eyes.

“What time is it?”

“It’s only been 10 minutes.” She groaned again. “How are you so awake right now? One more nightly patrol and I am going to pass out in the middle of class.” Aizawa looked at her in bewilderment.

“Have you met me before? I am never awake. I just mastered the skill to do things in my sleep.” y/n sighed. “I don’t think my body is happy with me being up for more then 24 hours.”

Aizawa gestured to the bright yellow sleeping bag that he laid on the table. “You can burrow my sleeping bag. There are a couple of filing cabinets in the back that you can hide between. I gurantee you that no one will notice that you were ever back there.” Aizawa suggested. y/n lifted an eyebrow.

“How many times have you done this?”

“So many times that there are already a couple of pillows placed on the floor. They have been here for about 4 weeks now.” y/n let out a shallow laugh. “Why am I not surprised?” Aizawa shrugged. He shoved the bag closer to her side of the table.

“Take the sleeping bag. You need to sleep.” y/n slowly shaked her head as she tried to will herself awake. “I have a class in 15 minutes.”

“It’s just study hall isn’t it? Let me cover for you.”

“I can’t let you do that!” She protested, “Next period is your lunch break.” Again, Aizawa shrugged. “I didn’t even bring anything to eat for lunch. I think I can live a day without my lunch break.”

y/n sighed as she can see that Aizawa would not take no for an answer.

“What would I do without you?” She asked as she gathered the bag in her lap.

“You probably would have passed out in the middle of the hallway and get trampled by a bunch of pre-hero students and died on impact.” y/n giggled as she got up from her chair. She walked towards Aizawa’s seat and unconsciously kissed him on the lips. Her head to foggy and eyes to drowsy to notice what she did.

“You know you’re my favorite person right?” Aizawa turned away from her to hide the slight redness spread across his face. Yes, it’s just redness, it’s hot in the room. Aizawa would never admit that he just blushed. He faked a cough as he tried to avoid eye contact. Unfortunately, he was not staring right at Hizashi teasing him and making kissy faces.

“Yeah, I better be.” Aizawa muttered.

When y/n woke up from her nap, she immediately wanted to punch herself in the face when she remembered what she did.

“I can’t believe you kissed him!” y/n muttered to herself in the comfort of her own room. “God what kind of idiot are you! He most be so uncomfortable with you now! How am I going to fix this?” y/n was pacing so much that she was sure that she had started leaving track marks on her wooden floor. She rubbed her face furiously and pulled at her own hair.

“There is no way that he doesn’t know about your crush for him now! Oh god Hizashi was there too! He is never going to let me forget about this! How can you single handedly ruin the best friendship you had just because you were tired?” y/n was really yelling at herself at this point. She was surprised none of her neighbors had come in and told her to shut up yet.

She nervously bit at her thumb nail as she tried to figure out how she can explain why she kissed him without revealing her massive crush on him.

“Maybe I can say I was so sleep drunk that I didn’t know what I was doing!” She theorized, “Or maybe I can pretend that I didn’t do it if he never brings it up.” She groaned and threw her hands in the air.

“No, y/n there’s only one way to save this. Say you’re sorry and move on and pray to whatever god is listening that our relationship doesn’t change after this.” She took a deep breath as she tried to come herself down.

“And if I want to say sorry, I will have to bring presents.”

And that is why y/n was attempting to make her first bento box at 2 am in the morning. 5 failed attempts at making a cute hotdog octopus later, she finally felt proud of her creation and anxiously waited for the right time to hand him her peace offering. Let’s hope that this was enough for him to forgive her.

y/n bit her lips nervously as she lingered outside the door that lead to the teacher’s lounge. She knew that Aizawa would be grading papers at this time. She knew that Aizawa had a habit of not bring himself lunch and he never had time to go to Lunch Rush, so she hoped that today he didn’t decide to deviate from his own schedule.

Her heart was pounding against her chest, the blood rushing to her ears was the only thing she can hear despite the bustling feet of students hidden in the background. She took a deep breath, letting the air escape through her mouth. You can do this y/n. Just go in there, and say sorry, and move on.

“Whatcha got there?” y/n yelped and jumped so hard she almost felt herself leaving her own body. She spun around and noticed Aizawa leaning down to look at her. Her eyes darted up to him. The hallways were clear and there was no one else in sight.

“W-what are you doing out here?” She asked. Aizawa squinted at her. “I was going to ask you the same thing. Why are you waiting outside the teacher’s lounge? I know I joke that you look like a student, but you know that you don’t need permission to enter right?” y/n chuckled nervously.

“Um, I was actually looking for you,” She admitted. He nodded. “Well you found me. What can I do for you?” He asked, crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned against the door.

God it has to be illegal to be that attractive. His tight black shirt clung to his toned arms. Aizawa left his scruff in class 1-A so you can clearly see the 5 o’clock shadow perfectly shaping his already chiseled face. His hair tied in a mess bun.

y/n swallowed hard as she tried not to imagine how his hair would feel if she carded her fingers through his locks—

“I wanted to give this to you!” She said suddenly, jotting out the cute bento box that she clenched in her hands. Aizawa looked down at it curiously.

“What did I do to deserve a bento box?” Aizawa propped himself back up as he grabbed the box, he opened the lid and smiled at the poorly cut hotdogs. y/n chewed on her bottom lip nervously.

“It’s a thank you for letting me burrow your sleeping bag yesterday. If I didn’t take that nap, I don’t think I would be able to walk home las night.” She explained, “I also wanted to apologize for kissing you yesterday. It was inappropriate and despite the fact that I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time, we’re co-workers and best friends. I don’t want to ruin our friendship and I understand if you don’t feel the same way—” y/n was not able to finish her sentence, however.

Aizawa gently wrapped his free hand around her jaw as he leaned down to capture her lips against his. It was weird at first. The kiss was sudden with no warning and their teeth clashed, and their noses bumped against each other. But when y/n’s mind can finally understand what was happening, she melted completely into him.

When they pulled apart, y/n took a minute to find her voice.

“So… does this mean you like me?” She asked stupidly, her mind dizzy from his lips. Aizawa chuckled lowly and nodded.

“I’ve liked you since day one.” y/n nodded.

“Good.”

#my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia x reader #x reader #my hero academia oneshots #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #459

“i wanted you to know that i love the way you laugh / i wanna hold you high and steal your pain away”

Does the person you like have any flaws? He's never seemed very expressive of what he feels. Has anyone ever given you a ring? Why? Yes. Because it was our anniversary and he wanted to, ig. If you ruled your own country, what type of government would it have? I'm not educated enough to answer this. Creation theory, Evolution or the Big Bang theory? I really don't know what I believe about the origins of the universe, but I do believe in evolution. Describe one of your most emotional farewells. The last time I saw Jason and we talked for a long time, and I finally got my closure. It was all so heavy. It started so stiffly, but it ended with us just chatting and smiling and, to my absolute shock, a hug from him. I'm getting emotional so NEXT QUESTION. What was your last serious conversation about? I was reassuring and comforting Sara about some stuff. Is there a city that you have a particular fondness for? If so, what city is it and why? No. Are there any gnomes in your yard? No. When was the last time you were stung by a bee? What kind was it? Years ago. A bumblebee. Are you gonna buy lottery tickets when you’re old enough? I am old enough, and no. The odds are way, way too small, and I don't really dabble in addictive behavior. Have you ever been into a real cave? No. :( That's a life goal, though. Have you ever posted mean comments on YouTube? I know I did once as a kid. It was regarding Meerkat Manor and I thought it was really disrespectful to Flower just because of the music chosen lmao. The drama. What color is your digital camera, if you have one? Black. If you had to spend one day in any movie storyline, which one would it be? Alice in Wonderland, I suppose? Name the strangest game you’ve ever played (video game or real game): Oh man, I've played waaaaay too many video games. I suppose Silent Hill with how confused it left me at first. Its concept is definitely wild. Parasite Eve is high on the list, too. In your opinion, what is the saddest movie you’ve ever seen? Boy in the Striped Pajamas destroys me. What is the best song to make out to? I could answer this but I'm not gonna lmfao Is there anyone right now that you are simply/overly infatuated with? story of my life ayyyyeeeee Who was the last person to play with your hair? Are they cute? Not a clue. Who was the last person close to you that died? Did you cry? Jason's mom. I sobbed on-and-off for days. Do you consider yourself a healthy person? Physically and mentally? No, in either way. Do you know anyone who owns a boat? My dad does. I'm sure others, too, with how popular fishing out on a boat is here. Do you know anyone who uses medical marijuana? I don't know. Even for medicinal purposes, it's not legal here. Do you know anyone who’s died in childbirth? No. What did you do for your 21st birthday? I was in the psych hospital, so... lmao. Therapy, reading, and coloring. Lots of reading and coloring. Because they did NOT fill your schedule enough there. We only had two group therapy sessions a day, and the rest was just... blankness. If dinosaurs could be tamed, would you want one as a pet? I know I'd be one of the dumb ones that absolutely wanted a tiny raptor, lol. Do you own more than one copy or edition of a book? No. If you could see any musical on Broadway right now, what would it be? Not interested. Do you eat soup when you’re sick? I don't like soup. If you read, which book or series did you enjoy most as a child? My first real series that I read religiously was Hank the Cowdog. Then it was Warriors. Do you buy Halloween candy when it’s on sale after the holiday? No. I really don't need candy available to me. Do you agree with the “they’re just being kids” excuse? It depends on what they're doing. In a lot of cases, no. Do you ever watch talk shows? No. Do you have a/any hero(s)? Mark Fischbach, Steve Irwin, my mom... Have you told your parents all of your secrets from when you were a teen? No. Though Mom has playfully once told me that she knows a lot of things I don't think she does, and that's terrifying lmao. You’re getting married. Who’s your maid of honor and best man? M.o.H.: Mom or Sara. Best man isn't my choice. Would you rather get highlights or dye your whole head? DYE IT ALLLLLLL. Are you wearing anything of any sentimental value? Describe? My friendship ring w/ Sara. It has a heart carved on the outside and "bitch" engraved inside so no one can see when you have it on, lol. She has one that says "jerk." It's a Supernatural reference. Who challenges you the most? In what way? My therapist and psychiatrist. They just help ensure I pursue my goals and give me little nudges forward to reassure me. Who seems to hold you back? In what way? PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT ME. I listen to my anxiety WAY too much. What was the last opportunity that you passed up, and why? Going up to Lake Gaston w/ Mom to visit Ash and her fam. They go there all the time, and it's a real nice place. I just didn't want to go because of the heat. Should there be an application process for having children? Hunny, that would not stop people from fuckin lmfao Name one thing that you think defines you as a person? m e e r k a t s What is a fear you have about living on your own? That depression would get the better of me and I'd neglect taking good care of my house. One of the many reasons I'll never live alone. Not at all saying I'd leave the responsibilities to my partner, but they'd be motivation for me to get stuff done. What’s the worst name your mom has ever called you? I don't know. Nothing that bad. What’s your stance on spooning? It helps me feel safe and loved and alsdkfjalwe I just love cuddling in all sorts lmao What’s your most recent obsession? Violet Orlandi & Melodicka Bros' cover of "Somebody That I Used to Know." Have you ever been scammed? Ha ha, yes. I once wanted to get Jason a Joker and Harley Quinn pillow from deviantART; talked to the artist, paid 'em, never got it. :^) Have you ever fostered an animal? No. I would get WAY too attached to foster. I wouldn't be able to give them up without breaking down, probs. Do you know anyone who acts way younger than what they are? I'm sure I do, but no one is coming to mind atm. Would you say you’re a pretty independent person? God no. Does the last song you listened to, remind you of someone? JASON. Do you currently want a new computer? Yes, actually. I want a desktop PC for better gaming quality, honestly. Also, the "escape" key doesn't work on this laptop, one key is missing so I have to hit the sensor JUST right, and it restarts randomly sometimes. I want a PC mainly because I want to get out of the habit of being on my laptop in bed all damn day. How would your parents react if you got a tattoo? I already have like six or seven, so they wouldn't be surprised. Is there anyone you can picture yourself being with forever right now? Maybe. Who is your truest friend? Sara. What is the strangest thing you’ve ever seen outside of your house? THIS house? Idk. Nothing that I'd consider odd. What bug frightens you most? STAG BEETLES lkadjslkfja;lwekjawl;kejrlawer Who is your oldest friend? That would be Sam, and he's in his mid-30s. How long have you known them? Many years. We met via WoW, which I've been playing since '14. I don't really remember how far into it we met, though. Where are they right now? lol I wouldn't know, he's all the way in Jersey. Plus we haven't talked in a while. Have you ever dated a friend of one of your siblings? God no, that would be so weird. What is the best gift someone can give you? An ear to listen without it feeling like a chore to them. Have you ever dated someone who had a child? No. I don't think I could do it. What is the last movie that made you cry? The The Lion King remake made me tear up. Have you ever played in a waterfall? No. Ugh, that sounds like a blast. In your life who has meant the most to you? Let's not get into this. What has been your biggest failure in life? Letting depression and my other conditions take away my identity, becoming my new identity. Do you trust yourself? No. I second-guess EVERYTHING and never know what I should listen to: my heart, my head, my gut... or which voice is what. Would you ever consider getting an abortion, under any circumstances? Yes. What was the last bug you killed? Some kind in the bathroom. Idk what it was. Just a little thing that sort of resembled an earwig, but not completely. Do you prefer profile pictures by yourself of with someone else? By myself, since it's my page. Do you know anyone who has written a book? I don't think so? Do you drink milk/juice from the carton if no one is around? Ew, no. I live with another person, and even if I didn't, what if I had guests? Has anyone ever told you they liked you in a realllly sweet way? Maybe? Has a member of the opposite sex ever given you jewlery? Jason has. Do you find sleeping in cars easy? NOOOOOOOOOO. I'm too scared to let my eyes close and not see what's going on on the road. Has a boyfriend’s/girlfriend’s parents ever gotten mad at you? Why? I don't believe so, no. What is the funniest thing a child has ever said to you. Definitely something my niece has said, but idr what it was. What’s been on your mind lately? Y'all know, lol. Do you feel like you need to get something off your chest? No. Sara was recently there for that. ♥ How would you react if someone told you they had feelings for you? Be very very excited if it was from a certain person.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''broken'' by seether (ft. amy lee)

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maggyoutthere · 3 years

Text

I can't believe I actually fINISHED THIS HOLY SHIT-

The chapters are more than 4000 words long combined. I literally never wrote something this big damn. As much as this is supposed to be satire of bad creepypastas, this little shit found its way into my heart. I'll treasure it as probably the best thing I've written, like, ever XD

‼Tws for blood and body horror

First part here

Second part here

Sonic: Battle of Metal and Blood (Part 3 - Finale)

Synopsis: Local teen faces off against whatever is haunting this game and dies(?)

The game took a while to load again.

I was already making backup plans in my head in the case this didn't work. I could always ask people online if anyone had ever known about this game, even get my brother to help me record some clips of it to post on forums and sites. If that didn't work, maybe try and dump the file on my PC? That could be dangerous; if it was making the console crash and restart, I didn't want to know what it could do to my computer.

I was thrown in the same level. Well that was weird. It was the exact same jungle, or at least it looked like it at first. I could tell it was now supposed to be night time since everything had almost a dark blue filter over it, even Tails, who I was playing as this time. The night filter made the level a bit harder since I couldn't see some things properly, but it was still playable. It looked just like any Sonic game from that time, but I knew something was definitely up with it. I just flew over some badniks and made my way across the level (I missed smashing stuff with Amy's hammer so I just tried to escape that level as quickly as possible)

I entered the same clearing, fearing what would happen to Tails this time. Guy was 8, and I doubted SEGA would let their employees just kill off a kid on screen; but again, as far as I knew this game wasn't even supposed to be here. It could've been some unhappy worker or employee gone rogue making a statement. It wasn't helping to be honest. As I followed the exact same route as Amy, I found Metal Sonic again, still stepping on... something. It was too dark to see what it was. It just made squishy and disgusting noises as he pressed his foot on top of it. For an old game, the audio design was pretty unsettling and well done.

I didn't want to get closer to the guy, so I tried flying over him and getting to a checkpoint or something, anything besides confronting that thing. As soon as I made Tails take off from the ground, Metal came flying at him. I almost shrieked as I tried getting the little guy away from that thing, immediately making him land and sprint out of there as fast as possible. In all that panic, I didn't even notice when he tripped over whatever Metal was stepping on and fell on his face. No matter how many buttons I pressed or how hard I pressed them, Tails wouldn't get up. Metal catched up with him and the screen went black as soon as the two collided.

Those same red eyes were back on screen, staring straight back at me. I was with my face glued to the television from all the anxiety that little chase scene gave me, so I jumped back when the thing looked back at me. It felt like it was looking directly at me.

"I want ears like yours"

There it was again

"I want arms like yours"

"I want a mind to think and a heart to feel like yours"

I wanted to punch the screen; I had no idea what was going on. This was starting to get unsettling. Then, I was back in the main menu, the game's menu. It didn't crash this time, at least that. Tails was gone, like Amy. Now, Sonic was there, facing his metal faker. The two looked like they were about to punch each other in an epic pose. Visually it looked great, but then it hit me. "Battle of Metal and Blood"; did it mean faker versus organic? So the two were going to fight again? Maybe we could still get a happy ending of some sorts.

I didn't even flinch. I pressed continue.

The jungle was gone. I was in some facility now, playing as the blue hedgehog himself this time. The level layout was much different this time; there were more loops, enemies, spikes and so on. Maybe it was only because I was playing as Sonic this time, so I could just speed my way through the level without having to worry about smashing enemies or flying away from them. I got through the level and ended up reaching an empty room; Metal Sonic was there.

I had never been much of a player myself; I'd rather stand by the sidelines and watch as more experienced people got through all the hard levels. Sure I played a lot when I was a kid but I hadn't carried that with me to adolescence. Now I had to do it myself. Hours of playing Sonic CD as a 12 year old, don't fail me now.

The boss fight music kicked in and a large door slammed shut, covering the way out. It was actually kinda hard landing a hit on the guy; I was supposed to dodge his attacks until he got tired and stopped, then parry on certain parts of the walls and spin dash at Metal Sonic as many times as I could while he was down. The thing was: I was awful at parrying. I sucked at anything that involved aiming, but I was somehow able to pull it off well enough to send the guy to his knees after around 20 minutes of dodging and parrying things.

When I hit him for the last time, it looked like I'd split his face in half or something. There were some pieces of Metal Sonic's shiny blue cover scattered around the arena. He just stood still for a while covering his face. Did I do it? Was he deactivating or something? My fingers were getting sore from holding the control and mashing buttons so hard. He wouldn't move on his own, so I just made Sonic approach him to maybe give the final blown.

As I got closer to him, Metal immediately lashed at Sonic again, trying to hold him down. You could see his face a bit better and… it was kinda red. What was that? Was he changing to another phase or something? The screen went black again.

Staring back at me were no longer those two red beacons; there was only one this time, as Metal Sonic did have half of his face completely torn apart. The uncovered half of his face was a bloodied, pulsating mess of flesh and wires. Coils, staples and stitches kept the mass of muscle and whatever else he had inside of him crudely stuck together. Two different colored eyes were shoved in one eye socket as the whole thing now oozed with blood and oil.

"I need quills like yours"

"I need a body like yours"

Was that… what Amy and Tails…

"I need an organic body like yours

to become the Real Sonic"

What… the fuck… I was too shocked to even move as it cut back to the game. Metal Sonic had successfully tackled Sonic to the ground and had started clawing at his face as if trying to rip it out of his "loathsome copy". As I saw a pool of blood appearing under them, I told myself that was enough and got up to pull the cartridge right out of the console. This was just sickening. As I got closer to the console to pull the memory card out, I realised something that made me start worrying about this in a different way. As I got a good look at my Playstation 2, I realized it wasn't plugged in. It wasn't receiving any power at all. It was only connected to the TV.

How had it been working then?...

I slowly backed away from the console, and when I looked back at the screen, that darned thing was looking back at me. It was looking at me as I was trying to stop it, peeking at the side of the screen as I went to turn off my Playstation. That thing knew I was there. No no no, this couldn't be happening. I started shaking as I realized there was something looking back at me though the screen. Its red eyes pierced into my soul, and I didn't know how to stop it.

"I WANT A SOUL… LIKE YOURS"

I shrieked as I finally pulled the cartridge out of the console, throwing it against the wall to my side in pure fear. The screen immediately went to static and the Playstation opened by itself, the Sonic Gems Collection DVD taunting me. That was NOT just a game. Whatever it was, whoever it was, I was terrified to even pick up the memory card. I put the DVD back in its box and turned off the console. I tried taking deep breaths and getting some sleep; it was late, I'd drank a lot of coffee. Maybe all the coffee I was having had created this fever dream. I begged for that to be the situation. Still, I got no sleep that night. My eyes were focused on the TV right in front of my bed, its bright red ON/OFF button giving me panic attacks each time I thought I saw it moving. If I didn't know better, I'd have believed the thing had been watching me all night.

Would it come for me next?

I ended up passing out around 5AM; I was constantly checking my phone to see the time and messaging my friends. I tried explaining the situation to them but they thought I was either messing with them or that I had somehow dreamed the whole situation. I was dead-sure I hadn’t though. I woke up around 2PM and, according to my brother, I looked like shit. Not even he would believe me when I told him what had happened last night; I couldn’t have dreamed the whole thing up even if I wanted to. There had to be something to prove it was all real… the memory card. If I played the game in front of him, he’d have to believe me. After getting breakfast, I pulled my bro back to my room to show him the game. I hesitantly went to pick up the memory card I had thrown against the wall yesterday, but it was no longer there.

“What are you looking for?”

“The memory card; it was right here! Help me look for it!”

“You mean this one?” he pointed at the Playstation.

The fucking cartridge had plugged itself back on the console. What was that thing, and how was it doing that?! The TV screen lit up with static as me and my bro jumped back; we looked at each other in panic and confusion as no one had even touched the TV. We could feel the electricity flowing through the air, giving us chills and making our hair stand up. My brother grabbed my hand as we saw the darned thing appear in front of the static, its shiny metallic cover still split in half. I froze in fear with my little brother to protect right there; I should’ve done more, I should’ve gotten rid of that cursed thing as soon as I unplugged it from the console last night. That thing placed its hands against his side of the screen, its fingers twitching as the blood made the metal hinges rust and creak. The edges of the screen leaked with blood as if he was trying to break this barrier that separated him from us. It looked at us the same way it looked at me; ready to take what he believed was his.

“I… WANT… SOULS LIKE YOURS… AND I WILL HAVE THEM…"

#sth #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #creepypasta #creepy story #short story #sonic gems collection #sonic: battle of metal and blood #battle of metal and blood #metal sonic #tw blood #tw body horror #yeee and it's done :D #I'll probably draw the mf sometime #i do love myself some scary stuff~#plz don't forget this is supposed to be a generic creepypasta XD #if you fall for it that's on you

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