#my feelings are CRUSHED its essentially like getting laid off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sixofpomegranates · 2 years

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i am BEGGING for a plus size, anxious reader who is very much attracted to her BAU bestie spencer reid, but she's too scared he wouldn't like her bc of her weight n then one day penelope has everyone going out for drinks and reader decides to wear something more form fitting to get reids attention but is too trapped in her mind to function and spencer helps her feel better. essentially: spencer reid loves me through my daily panic attack

♞𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝙶𝚒𝚛𝚕♘

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Pluse-Size!Reader

A/N: I love this one. Talk about comfort. 🥺 Hope you like it! 💕

CW: slight angst, fluff, comfort | Mentions of Weight/unrequired love, insecurity about body, anxiety, pining, self-hate, misunderstanding,

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*picture does not describe the looks of the reader* **********

For all my life I've been plus-sized... Well, not for all my life. I started off as a child with a normal statue, as normal as you should judge the figure of a young girl of course, but when puberty hit, it hit me harder than my pinky toe would hit the coffee table on a regular.

Suddenly I was getting a stomach, boobs, and a butt, and while I waited for the moment I'd finally grow tall enough in high so my weight and bodily proportions wouldn't be as... eye-catching, I had to wear the clothes all chubby little girls had to wear back in the days when we couldn't just simply order cute plus-size clothes online and celebrate the fact that all bodies are beautiful.

I had to wear baggy shirts, mostly from the boys' section in the store, and low-rising flared jeans hanging from my body. The motto really was to somehow cloth this unfortunately big body and hide its size away as good as possible, not to have me dressed and feel confident... or even pretty.

Most of my youth, I, therefore, had spent as the tomboy with a great personality. Only as I got older, finished college, and began working for the FBI, confidence finally came to me.

Yes, I could say it came with the gun I was now holding on the regular, or with the thankful eyes of the people whose lives I saved. But actually, it came with the friends I made along the way.

All sizes, shapes, and colors. No judgment for me, or my clothes, or appearance. It felt incredible to finally be in a safe space where I was not defined by the number on my scale.

I mostly even found my own clothing style. So I had, over time, laid my tomboy style to rest and dressed as girly as I'd like to. Nowadays I could simply go online and order a bunch of cute things in my size, I could dress in the same styles every other woman could.

That being said, I still struggled with my self-worth behind closed doors. That was why I loved the colder seasons so much. I could hide away my body like people had taught me all my life.

Cute cardigans, long jeans, sweaters with sunflowers or mushrooms on them, a tightfitting shirt and a loose one over it so it would hide my stomach... Those articles of clothing made me happy because they showcased my personality and still hid away my insecurities.

But as all good things must come to an end at some point, we had entered the season of summer, sun, heat... and less clothing than I felt comfortable in.

As I finally packed my things from my desk this especially hot Friday afternoon, I couldn't wait to go home and strip from my cardigan and band t-shirt. Air-conditioning only ever betters so much.

I really wished I'd just have the gut to walk around in a tank top like Emily or wear a short skirt as JJ did, but I really didn't like showing my naked upper arms, and don't even get me started on my thighs.

"Hey, you're going home for today?" Looking over the separation between our desks, I nodded at my Spencer, my best friend in the world, and the most beautiful man I'd ever seen.

Not that I was crushing, no, I had given up on that years ago. He was an amazing person and that curly hair, hazel eyes, and sharp cheekbones made him look like he was made by the gods... But that also made him to be way out of my league. That had been while I had – after my initial crushing and nervous giggles had stopped – settled for being the chubby friend... As always.

"Yep, I need a cold shower. Seriously, I feel like a fried fish stick in here," I joked, making him chuckle.

"Yeah, Morgan played with the air-conditioning and I think he broke it," he shook his head, while my eyes wandered down his rolled-up sleeves and veiny hands. "No, I am actually most certain that he broke it."

In all our years of friendship, I had managed to let my guard down quite a bit. Once you know somebody would never in a million years be attracted to you, you stop pretending and trying to look nice for them. And once he had grown accustomed to me as a new team member and I began to understand his little quirks, we started hanging out outside of work a lot.

Going to book stores, having sleepovers in each other's apartments, Dr. Who and Star Trek marathons, Comic Conventions, and watching Russian movies – that always had me fall asleep because I got sensory overloaded by watching, reading, and listening a movie all at the same time – had become our regular thing when we weren't in relationships.

We both didn't date much, Spencer rarely seemed to be interested in anyone and me? Well, I already mentioned the fact that nobody wants the chubby girl, therefore, I sort of stopped trying. So we had a lot of time to pursue our shared hobbies.

"You're coming tonight though, right? I don't wanna come if you're not at Penelope's get-together at the bar."

Fuck. I had completely forgotten about that.

"You forgot," Spencer surmised, looking at my face with a hint of entertainment.

"No, I didn't," I lied, only making him start to giggle and flash his beautiful smile at me.

"Oh, you so forgot about it."

I joined his contagious laugh, admitting, "Okay, yeah, fine. You got me. I forgot about it. Happy?"

He nodded happily, starting to pack his things as well. Most likely would he ask me to drive him home soon. "So, are you going? Because if not, I need you to help me come up with an excuse for me as well."

Playing with the string attached to my water flask, I sighed. "I'm gonna go. Pen is talking about it for weeks now."

"Which makes it even more astonishing that you were able to forget about it." At Spencer's sassy comment I stuck my tongue out.

"Very mature," he chuckled, making me nod proudly. "Hey, do you think you can give me a ride home?" Ah, called it.

"Sure," I smiled, watching Derek sneak up behind Spencer and mess up his hair.

"Pretty boy," he chuckled, "Will we be seeing you at the bar tonight?"

Fixing his hair, Spencer nodded. "Yeah, sure. I was just asking-" Derek interrupted him, looking in my direction. "You coming too, pretty girl?"

I hated that nickname. It always felt like a joke at my expanse, even after Morgan had assured me countless times that it wasn't and he meant it the same way he meant it regarding Reid.

"Yes," I answered quickly, making him clap his hands. "So that's why Reid's coming," he laughed, turning to him. "I was already wondering what pretty little thing got you whipped enough to leave your apartment on a Friday night."

Spencer was quick to throw him an angry look, thinking I didn't notice it. "Don't say things like that," he mumbled, Derek continuing to egg him on. "What? That pretty girl has you-"

Spencer stood up abruptly, exclaiming, "Stop calling her pretty girl and stop insinuating that I'd like her like that."

Ow. Okay, that was painful. But a chubby girl learns how to handle rejection. Teenagers are way less careful in the way they turn you down when confessing a crush.

Ignoring both Morgan and Spencer's nervous looks – both seemingly worried about having hurt my feelings during their brotherly bickering – I stood up, grabbing my bag with a smile. "Okay, boys, that's enough for today. I need to get ready for tonight."

Taking a few steps in the direction of the elevator, I turned around. "Spence, are you coming?"

He quickly nodded, grabbing his satchel, and hurrying after me. Passing by Derek, he slightly hit him in the chest as he chuckled about Spencer following me like a puppy.

*****

The car ride was painfully silent, Spencer only fidgeting with the strap of his bag. I didn't know what to say, either. Like I said, I was used to rejection but he had been so quick and embarrassed shutting Derek down... The thought of being with me or people thinking there was something between us seemed to really make him uncomfortable.

No wonder actually. I knew his exes and his former crushes. He instinctively always went for the skinny, pretty blonde.

While I hadn't ever considered having a type until I had met him, he was an absolute dream to me but I was so not his type, it made me want to cry.

"I- I didn't..." He started shortly before we reached his apartment. "I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?" I smiled. "You did nothing wrong."

He shook his head, fingers starting to become more fidgety. "I shouldn't have said-"

"Spencer, I am well aware I am not a 'pretty girl', okay?" I snapped at him before I had to go through the humiliation of him trying to find something pretty about me.

"Y-You just- I wanted to help because you said you don't like it when Morgan calls you that. I- I never meant that you're not pretty. I think you beau-" I abruptly stopped the car in front of his apartment, smiling in his direction.

"Everything's okay, Spence. Don't think about it because I definitely won't either." Yeah, that was a lie. I was going to cry all night and overthink why I was never going to be the girl he wanted.

"O-Okay," he stammered, opening the car door. "I'll still see you tonight, right?"

I nodded, the fake smile still plastered onto my face. "Sure. See you later."

As he had said his goodbye and closed the door, I drove off so fast I was probably going to receive a ticket in the mail for it. Finally alone in the car, I allowed myself to cry a little, humiliated and broken-hearted seemed to be the way I was starting into the weekend. Just great.

*****

I knew Spencer didn't think I was a pretty girl, he would only ever in my dreams consider being with someone like me. Yet, it didn't stop me from putting on this short, black bodycon dress hugging every curve of my body.

Penelope had talked me into buying it the last time as we had online shopped with wine. She had said something about me going to look hot in it and Spencer falling to his knees for me once he saw me in it.

Easily said by somebody embodying an angel's personality, confidence, and rainbows... Yet, although I envied her for all that, Garcia was the only one knowing about my feelings for Spencer and all my insecurities.

She too wasn't a size 2 and as much as a skinny girl could try, if you've never been in the skin of a chubby one, you don't understand just how worthless you sometimes feel because of it.

Looking into the mirror at home, I swear I had never felt sexier. Maybe I was going to turn Spencer's head tonight, or at least have him notice that I wasn't only the fat friend. But when I turned to the side, my stomach immediately began stressing me out.

Too much, too fat. Not flat. NOT. PRETTY.

That was okay. I was aware of the problem, so I could fix it. There was no time to change again, and honestly, if I'd have to try on another outfit and look myself in the mirror again, I was going to stay at home and cry.

Grabbing a gray cardigan from my wardrobe and putting it on, I quickly felt better. Swallowed by all the fabric, there was no chance somebody would notice my rolls. This was a great solution.

*****

Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

The stupidest of them all.

What had I been thinking?

I fucking hate summer.

The evening had started out nice. I had gotten some compliments from Penelope and Spencer seemed no longer to feel bad for stating his obvious disinterest in me as a love interest.

Then the bar got fuller, people started dancing, alcoholic drinks began heating my blood...

The cardigan I had grabbed to hide my way too tight-fitting dress and body, had been made for winter temperatures, and by now it felt like I was melting. But the thought of somebody seeing me in the dress alone was too humiliating and keeping me from taking the cardigan off.

"Aren't you hot?" Penelope whispered over the music, which actually was yelling, making the rest of our friends listen to our conversation.

"N-No. I'm fine," I smile, hoping my foundation wasn't melting off my face.

Emily shook her head. "It's fucking hot in here. You should take off your cardigan before you'll get a heatstroke."

Spencer looked back and forth between me and Emily, agreeing with her. "She's right. You look hot."

He quickly became pale, shaking his head. "I- I didn't mean that. You're not hot. I meant you're looking like you're warm because it's summer and it's warm."

Emily was quick to kick him under the table and Spencer stopped talking, Morgan whispering something into his ear that sounded like a solid scolding. Swallowing hard, I licked my lips and began holding my cold beer as a distraction to how warm I was.

When Derek stopped talking, Spencer quickly tried to establish eye contact with me, looking shocked. "I- I'm sorry, that came out wrong."

I waved him off. I couldn't handle any more humiliation today.

"I didn't mean to say you're not hot," Spencer repeated a little louder.

"I understood it the first time," I answered, having a hard time hiding the hurt in my voice.

"Please just take off that cardigan," JJ insisted, already having a hand on my clothes and pulling it off my shoulder like I was a stubborn child. "I promise you'll feel better."

Shaking my head, I struggled to put the cardigan back on while everyone tried convincing me to just take it off.

"JJ, stop that-" Spencer tried to intervene, leaning over the table to grab her hands and knocking over my beer, drowning me in it.

I quickly jumped up, taking off my cardigan before the beer could soak through all my clothes and I would smell like a distillery for the rest of the night. Meanwhile, JJ and Penelope sponged up the spilled beer on the table with some napkins.

"Fuck." I and the entire table looked at Spencer who stood across from me, staring at my dress.

He rarely cussed, which made me look down to and pray I hadn't been misfortunate enough to have one of those shitty dresses that became see-through in certain lighting. As I saw that that wasn't the case, my heat melted brain also registered that I now had to be seen in my dress.

"That's the dress we bought together, right?" Penelope asked amazed. It instantly felt like everyone in this bar was staring at me.

The one thing every insecure girl in a bar, or a club, or anywhere, is thankful for is the one chubby woman wearing something daring. They always got the attention, good and negative. Unwantedly, this woman seemed to be me tonight.

"Y-Yeah," I stuttered, sitting back down.

From the corner of my eyes, I could see Spencer sitting back down too. He was still staring at me with an intensity that made my face become hot and unable to really take in any of the complements our friends were giving me.

"Pretty girl, you're looking fine as hell," Derek chuckled, nudging Reid. "Doesn't she, man? Give the lady some compliments."

"I'm not going to do anything," Spencer hissed at Morgan louder than he'd planned.

I am not into sports, never even having played any of them – excluding the one short period where I thought I could 'Kick it like Beckham' – but I knew that three strikes meant that you were out. So, before anyone could see just how out I was for tonight, I stood up, grabbed my bag, and bolted out of the bar.

*****

After being cat-called and whistled after by a group of guys that were now probably laughing about ever seriously hitting on me, I embraced the cold air on my warm skin.

Of course, it was a nice temperature outside the bar. Chuckling at this like it was an unfair joke, I wiped away my tears. This had all exactly gone as my anxiety-filled nightmares had expected. Those Cinderella moments didn't work for me, I should've just stayed at home, ordering a pizza, and continuing to watch my K-Drama on Netflix.

The worst thing of all, came to my mind as I walked down the empty road. I had no idea how I could face Spencer again. Some silly part of me had stayed stubbornly optimistic that he could one day fall for me and look over the fact that I was a multiplication of his own weight. Today had once and for all shattered that dream and made me painfully aware of just how unattractive I seemed to appear to him.

"Hey, wait!"

Turning around to the person calling after me, I saw Spencer running towards me, my soaked cardigan in his hand. I had totally forgotten about that one, too busy with running away.

"God, you're fast," Spencer mumbled out of breath as he had finally reached me. "You- You forgot your cardigan."

I took the reeking piece of clothing from him mumbling, "Thanks," hoping he wouldn't see that I had cried.

Face turning red, he mumbled, "Y-You look good..."

This compliment made out of pity, made me shake my head. "Look, you really don't need to give me a meaningless compliment, okay? I know how ridiculous I look."

"It's not meaningless," he insisted, making me start to sob. Today had definitely been too much. Spencer immediately closed the distance between us, cupping my cheeks. "I- I'm so sorry. I said something wrong again, right? Please don't cry."

There was no chance I could ever face him again after this stupid, stupid day. So I pulled my face away from his grasp and started walking home.

Over the next couple of blocks, I continued to cry silently, still hearing Spencer walk behind me. As I'd finally reached my apartment, I turned around. He stood there, his big hazel eyes filled with worry, mouth slightly open as if he tried to say something.

"Did-" He swallowed roughly. "Did Morgan tell you to wear that?"

My eyes snapped at him. "Why should he?" I finally said, humiliation eating away at me. "I wanted to impress you tonight."

"Y-You what?" he whispered, having me laugh sadly. "Clearly didn't work because I'm just your chubby friends in a way too tight dress."

"I think you're beautiful," Spencer said, taking a step towards me. "Y- You look like a dream to me. You always do."

As if somebody had pulled the floor under my feet away, I stood there, lifting a warning hand. "You're better not fucking with me, Spencer Reid," I warned him.

"I- I- I'm not- I-" His stuttering stopped and he just looked at me mortified. The phrasing of my words had probably thrown him off.

"I meant that it would be mean if you'd be playing a prank on me," I said in a child-prove manner.

"Why would I ever joke about something like that?" Spencer asked confused, and I shrugged. "People can get really mean to a chubb-"

"Stop talking about yourself like that," Spencer interrupted me loudly. "That's not okay. You're so- You're so- I think I'm gonna throw up," stuttered, breathing out more air than he had to offer.

A sarcastic giggle tore through my chest, "That is really not proving your point."

He joined my laughing and as the silence between us became louder again, he sighed, taking a deep breath. "I like you, you know?" he asked gently, smiling his wide, closed-lip smile.

I nodded. "Sure hope you do. I'm your best friend."

"Not like that," Spencer corrected me. "Not like friends. I- I like you as a woman. A very, very beautiful woman. Derek knows and- and he set me this ultimatum where he would tell if I didn't, so I would finally tell you how I feel because he says that it's been too many years. And if I continue to just be your friend you'll friendzone me and fall in love with somebody else and I don't- I don't want you to do that."

I just stood there, not able to find words to anything he had just said. Lifting his hands, Spencer now began talking as if his life would depend on it.

"I think you're so beautiful that I get dizzy when looking at you for too long and I tried to make sure you're comfortable around me first but then we became friends and you never seemed to like me the same way I like you. And today, every time I wanted to help you – with Morgan calling you pretty girl and then with JJ and your cardigan – I only made you feel bad about yourself. But I knew that I could only fix it if I told you that I like you and that scared the shit out of me and then you wear this dress that makes you look so sexy that I can't even glance at you because I start thinking very inappropriate things-"

Not knowing if this was just a very beautiful, rambling dream right now, I asked, "What do you mean by that?"

Scratching the back of his head, he smiled, "I-I thought I was being pretty clear." I shook my head, needing to hear it before I could even remotely believe it. "I should probably get to the point then, I love you."

"You love me?" I asked, making him nod and I just couldn't comprehend it. "You know you could have any woman, right? You're handsome, kind, the best friend in the world... Why me?"

"Why not?" He asked back baffled, looking down on himself. "Also, I am a scrawny, unhealthily pale guy that can't control his information dumps and has been called a pipe cleaner with eyes before. Not to forget that the only one I want is looking at me like I'm lying right now."

"You could still do better than me," I said, clearly out to ruin this for myself and make Spencer see me as I saw myself.

"Okay. You're crazy," He concluded as I had just insulted him. "You are so pretty! I- I mean, looks don't mean anything but GOD you are so stunning. The way you smile, the way you dress in your cute sweaters and pull them over your thumbs... The way you look in that dress."

The last sentence he had almost growled, licking over his lips and trying not to stare at me. He really thought I was beautiful, just like I had thought it when getting ready. Maybe this little part of me that had felt confident had been right and I really looked good in this dress... Looked good in general.

All this time I had pulled myself down, although Spencer had clearly wanted to be with me and just tried being thoughtful about it.

All this time I was thinking it was better to hide my body and my emotions just because I had a negative belief system going on right from the beginning, instead of deciding to let it be and be happy.

"I wanna kiss you," Spencer said, instantly shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head again before coming to his final conclusion. "No, I'm not. Can I kiss you?"

Instead of listening to the part of my mind that questioned why he would ever want that, I nodded. Yes. Yes, I wanted him to kiss me.

Closing the distance between us, he once more cupped my cheeks, his hands shaking violently.

"You're shaking," I whispered, feeling his breath on my face. "Nervous," he whispered back as we smiled at each other.

I laid my hands on his, leaning closer, and kissed him.

Saying that I, as a chubby girl, knew rejection was wrong if me. Yes, I knew it, yes I knew how it could hurt, but I had let this mindset decide that I never had the chance of being with Spencer before ever even giving him a say in it.

Life and previous disappointments had made me too afraid. In hindsight, I could've been happy so much earlier, if I would've only let myself.

We are to make our own happiness, and let's be honest, what is better? Crying over a person that didn't want you for a few days, or passing out on the love of your life just because you're too scared to take a risk?

As Spencer broke the kiss, he was still shaking but a smile was plastered across his face. "Do you wanna go back to the bar?" he offered, but I shook my head.

"Nope. I'm gonna change into some sweatpants and order some pizza," I announced.

He took a step back, "Oh, okay."

Walking up the stairs, I felt his eyes on me – and definitely on my butt – as I opened the door to my apartment building. Turning around, Spencer still stood at the end of the stairs, looking up at me like this was a goodbye.

I smiled at him, "Spence, are you coming?"

Blinking a little surprised, he nodded, taking two stairs at once so he'd be beside me faster. "Sure, pretty girl," he chuckled, and before I could complain about him using this nickname, he pressed his lips on mine again.

As he pulled away, his knuckles brushed over my cheek and he smile in awe, whispering, "My pretty girl."

And for once, I didn't hate being called a pretty girl because I knew Spencer meant it with every fiber of his being.

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Acts of Devotion

👀 i um 👉 👈 i hope this is okay...

Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

TW blood, gore, violence, murder, dub con, nsfw

Akaashi loves you.

He’s known that for a long time now, probably from the very first moment he laid eyes on you, back when you were both just wide eyed first year uni students, wildly out of your depths.

A lot’s changed since then. For one, he now gets to call you his, and it’s his arms that you return to at the end of a long day, his house that you both live in. It’d be a lie to say that it doesn’t bother him that he wasn’t your first love, but he’s contented himself with the knowledge that he’ll be your last. Your only great love.

The only one that matters.

But it hasn’t been without its challenges. He’s learned a lot about love since those early days, about what it means to truly devote yourself to somebody, to give everything you have for them.

Love essentially boils down to two things, Akaashi’s come to realise - sacrifice, and forgiveness.

You always look so beautiful when you’re sleeping. Of course, Akaashi thinks you’re beautiful all the time; when you’re smiling and laughing, when your face is screwed up in petulant anger, when those pretty eyes of yours well with tears and they glimmer and shine - but there’s something about the peaceful expression, so soft and unguarded when you’re asleep that inexplicably draws him in.

There’s a part of him that wants nothing more than to stay, to reach out and brush away the hair that’s fallen across your face, pull you closer and let sleep drag him under, but he can’t.

Not tonight.

Instead he cranes his neck to press a kiss against your lips, a small smile tugging at his lips when you let out a quiet mewl in response. He loves you so, so much… that’s why he has to do this.

He’d forgive you anything. You know that, don’t you?

Sure, it hurt him when he found the messages. Scrolling back through your text history, it was like somebody had grabbed him by the throat and plunged a knife into his gut, twisting it for good measure.

Kaito i don’t know what to do

i love him but lately it feels like idk he’s being a little controlling i guess?

… but maybe i’m just being paranoid?

He knows it’s not entirely your fault. For all the amazing qualities you possess, you are remarkably naive and so very, very impressionable - which worked to his favour in the beginning, he’ll be the first to admit, but now…

Now it’s becoming a problem.

You haven’t realised yet that everything Akaashi’s doing - it’s all for your own good.

Your family wanted you under their thumb. They always asked too much of you, guilt tripped you whenever you tried to stand up for yourself or set boundaries. They’d never be happy for you, not truly. It hurts, he knows that, but some people don’t deserve to be in your life, especially when they treat you like that.

Your job was causing you stress, and your boss was an arrogant, nasty piece of work. His salary is more than enough to support you both, why put yourself through that if you don’t need to? Aren’t you happier now that you don’t have to trudge into that office every day and pretend that it isn’t making you miserable?

Your friends were bad influences. Jealous of your relationship for one, but they were also petty, self absorbed and vapid, always trying to drag you down to their level so you wouldn’t ever outshine them. You’re better off without them, why can’t you see that?

Akaashi’s the only one you’ll ever need.

And he really thought that he’d solved that little problem, but apparently not. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that out of all of them, Kaito’s the one who’s been the hardest to shake. An old friend of yours from high school, Akaashi had known within five minutes of meeting him that he was head over heels in love with you and had been for a long, long time.

He can’t blame him for that. You’re beautiful. Perfect. Entirely his. It’s painfully obvious that even before he came into the picture to sweep you off your feet, you’d never so much as looked twice at the guy. So Akaashi was more or less content to let his somewhat pitiful one sided crush on you slide. Considering that he had absolutely no intentions of letting him or any of your other friends remain part of your life for much longer, it was hardly worth wasting energy thinking about.

Until, that is, he read the messages that Kaito’s been sending you.

Leave him

I’m serious.

My sister had a friend who was with a guy like that. She had to get a restraining order because he wouldn’t let her go - it got scary… You can come stay with me. I don’t want you getting hurt :(

It’s that last one that bothers him. Not the attempts to lure you away from him under the guise of being a safe haven from your ‘dangerous’ boyfriend, painting himself as your knight in shining armour - mildly irritating if not a little amusing - but for putting the idea in your head that Akaashi would ever hurt you.

That he can’t forgive.

He won’t have you look at him with fear in your eyes.

Akaashi’s never tried to deny that side of himself, but he’s kept it from you, locked it away and buried it deep. The things he does… you’re too pure for that. He loves you, loves the way that your eyes still soften when you catch sight of him, the warm, trusting naivety that bleeds out of your every pore. If you knew what the hands that caressed you so gently had done, would you still beg for his touch?

You wouldn’t, he knows that just as he knows that even if you were to uncover the truth, he wouldn’t let you go. He can’t, you’re his.

Is it really so selfish of him to want to preserve that innocent naivety?

But it seems like now he’ll have to indulge once again, and Akaashi, really, truly can’t say that it bothers him. Killing other people has always thrilled him, made the blood in his veins race… Killing other people for you, oh, that’s going to be a whole other level of pleasure he can’t wait to explore.

The pads of his fingers trace the curve of your jaw for just a moment. “Back soon,” he whispers, gracing your cheek with a feather light kiss.

You’ve never asked why the door to the basement locks from both sides, he doesn’t even think you realise that the walls are soundproofed. Tonight he’s grateful. You won’t wake up, he’s almost positive of that, but Akaashi has no desire to be gone from your side for any longer than absolutely necessary.

He usually prefers to take his time.

His first kill was more of an accident than anything else, there was too much blood, he panicked and it was over in the blink of an eye. There wasn’t time to savour it, to really enjoy the sight of the light leaving their eyes, the weak, desperate struggles and whimpers, the tantalising fear that inevitably bleeds into the air, growing more potent by the second - even the strongest break eventually. He’s learned since then how to draw it out, how to have fun with his work.

But he doesn’t have that luxury tonight, and, as he keeps having to remind himself, this isn’t about his pleasure.

Guns are quick. Messy. Akaashi’s never really taken a liking to the crude, graceless weapon. He prefers his knives.

Waving a gun in somebody’s face gives them the idea that they’re going to die, and there are only so many times that you can shoot somebody before they just… bleed out. It’s not nearly as satisfying a death. A knife, on the other hand, brings with it more opportunities. It isn’t death that his victim becomes worried about, at least not initially, but pain. And as his hand glides over his collection, Akaashi decides that Kaito is due for a little pain.

I love him, you’d texted. I love him. I love him. I love him.

That’s what he’s trying to protect.

Long, pale fingers wrap around the handle of his chef’s knife, (eight inches, sharp - a familiar, comforting weight in his hand) and he takes a deep, steadying breath.

Kaito’s mouth is taped shut. Akaashi doesn’t want to hear a filthy word out of those lips. His hands are bound behind his back, his ankles tied to the old, wooden chair. He’s good with his knots, the more Kaito struggles, the tighter they pull. And judging from the ugly, purpling shade of his hands and the tears leaking from bloodshot eyes, he’s been struggling for a while.

Good.

Akaashi smiles as he strolls towards his captive audience, fingering the straight edge of the knife. Kaito doesn’t try to speak, but the muffled whines and sobs grow louder with every step closed between them. The fear and tension in the air is palpable.

His breath is little more than a frantic wheezing by the time Akaashi stops in front of him and drops into a crouch. Cool, gunmetal blue eyes meet Kaito’s deep brown ones, blown wide with terror.

“I’m not the monster you think I am,” he admits quietly.

Looking up at him from beneath long, dark lashes, a faint smile on his lips, Akaashi could almost pass for an angel if not for the gleaming kitchen knife in his hand. Kaito pales, his entire body going taut as his gaze slides from Akaashi’s face to the gleaming blade in his hand. He shakes his head in desperation, another muffled scream escaping his gag-

Akaashi strikes fast, like a viper. The blade plunges into the meat of Kaito’s thigh and without an ounce of mercy, Akaashi yanks it back towards his knee.

The scream that rips through the air sends a pleasurable shiver of warmth down his spine, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he feels the muscles beneath him convulse. The gash isn’t too long, maybe a few inches, but it’s deep and Akaashi’s smirk only grows as warm blood gushes from the wound, coating his hand in slick vermilion.

He tugs the knife free, rewarded with another choked howl from his captive as more blood sprays. Bound to the chair, there’s not a whole lot of room for Kaito to move, but it’s somewhat amusing to watch him try to thrash, escape the white hot agony radiating from his thigh through his entire body. It’s hard for the human body to comprehend that level of pain, and from experience, Akaashi’s well aware that it won’t take long for his body to go into shock and simply shut down from the blood loss, and once that happens, he won’t be of much use to anyone.

Kaito’s trembling, face pale, his skin clammy. Impossibly black pupils swallow his irises whole, erratically tracking his captor’s every movement as Akaashi pushes himself to his feet and takes a moment to study him. Tears and bubbles of snot leak in a disgusting mix down his jaw, dripping onto his lap as he sobs against his bindings. It’s pitiful, seeing a man reduced to a whimpering, terrified wreck, but as the hand still holding his knife grips at his chin and yanks his face closer, Akaashi can’t help but gleefully drink it all in.

Your would be knight in shining armour doesn’t look quite so strong and capable now, does he?

Akaashi doesn’t have much time left to make him suffer, but he can’t seem to resist trailing his fingers along Kaito’s injured leg, digging them deep into the ruined muscle - grinning wildly when he convulses and screams, arching up off the chair.

There’s still so much that he’d like to do. He toys with the idea of taking his tongue, of carving his knife deep into his skin just to watch him whimper and bleed… but no. This isn’t about indulgence. This is about you. He has to have more discipline than that.

Dangling on the edge of consciousness, Kaito meets his gaze one last time. Maybe he senses that his death is close, or maybe he’s just searching for a last minute reprieve, mercy from the cold blooded killer before him. Terrified, agonised, delirious from the blood loss, he tries to speak - a plea, he thinks, or maybe just incomprehensible babbling, but his eyes burn into Akaashi’s, desperate and hollow.

Akaashi’s never been one for theatrics. He won’t waste more time monologuing while your friend clings to the last vestiges of life. If Kaito hasn’t guessed by now the reasons he’s ended up here, at Akaashi’s mercy, he’s far less intelligent than he gave him credit for, but he supposes that he owes him something, at least.

“I love her,” he says with a small shrug, as if it explains everything.

And maybe it does.

It hardly matters though, as Akaashi decides to finally end it with a vicious slice across his throat. Blood sprays like a fountain, splattering across the room and drenching him, Kaito’s body slumps in his seat, the last flicker of life slowly snuffing out, and Akaashi revels in the pure, sweet euphoria that floods his system.

He’s never killed anybody while you were home with him before. Normally he’s methodical, quick to clean up whatever mess is left behind. Tonight though, Akaashi doesn’t have the patience for all that.

He should at least take a shower, rid himself of the blood that soaked him to the skin, but the call of your arms, the sweet, soft floral scent he longs to drown himself in beckoning is too hard to resist. He sheds his clothes, casting them aside haphazardly along with the bloody knife as he stalks down the hallway to the bedroom. His heart is still racing, excitement drumming through his veins as he crawls onto the bed and slides the covers off of you.

Dimly, he registers that this is a monumentally bad idea, but all he can think about is the vivid memory of the light leaving Kaito’s eyes and you. Tonight, he killed for you, and it was exhilarating.

He doesn’t think he could stop himself even if he wanted to, and why would he want to?

You’re perfect, beautiful - his. Nothing and nobody will ever be able to separate the two of you, he’ll kill anybody who tries.

You stir a little as Akaashi’s lips graze along your skin, his fingers sliding the silk of your nightgown up over your hips.

“‘Kaashi?” you sleepily murmur, trying to blink heavy eyelids open.

He wonders if you can feel the way his bloodstained hands are trembling as they ease your supple thighs apart. “Shh, baby,” he presses a kiss against your leg as he manoeuvres himself between them, “It’s okay, go back to sleep.”

Let me take care of you.

He needs this.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere akaashi x reader #yandere akaashi #yandere akaashi keiji #yandere akaashi keiji x reader #tw blood #tw violence #tw murder #slasher-ish vibes #tw dub con #just a little #not super proof read because it's 3:30 in the morning

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sneezefiction · 3 years

Text

of night owls & early birds

Kuroo x Reader

desc: Kuroo, your roommate and longtime best friend, likes you but he really dislikes your sleep schedule. alternatively, your crush gets up way too early and you “suffer the consequences.”

a/n: the irony of working on this fic at 5 am doesn’t escape me… but it also hasn’t assuaged my awful sleep patterns. i hope you enjoy!!

warnings: school/general anxiety, crass/offbeat humor (jokes about planning your own funeral), idk if you’re scared of love don’t read this - it’s very fluffy.

wc: 3.6k

--- You’re screwed, you think, as a light flickers on just outside of your room. It illuminates the carpet underneath your doorway with a warm orange tint.

And though it shouldn’t make your heart jump into your throat, it does.

You’d promised, swore to Kuroo, that you’d be asleep by 2 am - and to him, even that was a stretch. But he should count himself lucky that you’d even agreed to his demands at all.

After all, he is well-versed in the world of night owls.

Kenma, though maybe not your kindred spirit, shares at least a couple of qualities with you. Kuroo likes refer to these “qualities” as crimes.

One of these crimes (and quite possibly Kuroo’s least favorite) is your god-awful sleep schedule. And you’re a repeated offender.

There was only so much nagging and bickering you could take before you’d cracked and told exactly him what he wanted to hear. In a flurry of words, you’d agreed to turn off your laptop, close up your textbooks and actually put your head to a pillow.

You also may have been bribed.

To sweeten this deal, Kuroo had promised to buy you pizza this upcoming Friday, given that you actually did get some rest.

But as you reluctantly lift your phone, the glass screen glowing a little too brightly, you realize that it’s already 5:30 am.

You grimace.

It’s Tuesday morning. Meaning that the repetitive beeping across the hall is Kuroo’s alarm.

Your lips press into a firm line. Most birds don’t even get up at such a godless hour.

You can’t help but wonder what it’s like to have a functional morning routine. Or a morning routine at all.

Leaning back in your plastic desk chair, you squeeze your eyes shut.

It stings.

You probably got so caught up staring at the blob-like words on your computer screen that, somewhere in the process, your body had forgotten how to blink.

And while the tension in your neck and shoulders is painful, it’s nothing in comparison to the festering guilt of not listening to your longtime best friend and now roommate (a suspiciously well-intentioned college boy who had somehow managed to win your heart over the course of this fall semester.)

Thinking back, working on your final English assignment at midnight wasn’t the brightest of ideas. It wasn’t even due for another week. But as due dates loomed, the impending fear of a bad grade had begun to burrow deeply within you.

If you could just pump the brakes on deadline anxiety, you wouldn’t feel so pressured to type incoherent sentences at odd and empty hours of the night.

And maybe Kuroo wouldn’t feel the need to coerce you into a firmer sleep schedule. Though you do find this caring habit of his to be inexplicably endearing.

Thus, the prickling feeling continues to infiltrate your restless mind and the brewing concoction of anxiety and guilt in your tummy makes you feel uneasy.

But before you can sneak into bed and tuck yourself inconspicuously under the covers, you hear a floorboard creak.

As if on instinct, you hold in a breath.

Kuroo isn’t one to forget about little promises. Of course, he’d want to know if you’d made good on your side of the deal.

Gently, you close your laptop and swivel your chair to face the door. You still your movements, keeping your body taut against the back of your chair.

More soft steps fall just outside of your room.

Your eyes can’t pick a place to land, so they choose to wander. And with a quick scan of your room, it doesn’t take you long to realize that your bedside lamp had been left on - an instant giveaway.

You begin planning for your funeral.

However, if it were up to you, you wouldn’t go out this way. You prepare yourself for death by interrogation or shame-induced coma.

Regrettably, neither options seem very interesting to you. If you ask politely, maybe your friends will engrave a portion of an epic poem into your gravestone just to make your passing seem more sophisticated. Yeah, that sounds nice and pretentious.

Okay, you might be overdramatizing things - Kuroo would never send you to your grave. But that doesn’t change the fact that your psyche likes to play tricks on you in the wee hours of the morning and that the eerie quality of the atmosphere somehow reminds you of a cemetery.

As you sort through who-gets-what on your will, there’s a not so sudden knock on your door. The soft tap makes your heart skip for two reasons:

The first being that you still haven’t gotten used to the fluttering in your chest from him being present all the time. Developing a crush on him (and suspecting feeling on his side) had made you a little jumpier over the past few months.

And the second had to do with the fact that you were actually going to have to talk to him about this. To apologize for being a bold-faced liar. It wasn’t clear to you whether you’d be teased or reprimanded. And honestly? You’re not sure which option would feel worse.

So you take a breath and steel yourself.

“Y/n?” A gravelly voice sounds from outside your room.

It’s tainted with sleep. You shiver.

There’s a preemptive sigh, “C’mon y/n, your light is on. I know you’re awake.”

You’ve been caught, so there’s no point in prolonging it.

“...You can come in.” You reply meekly, clenching and unclenching your fists.

The door cracks open.

That soft orange hall light floods into your room and directly into your eyes. With a squint, you try to fully visualize Kuroo. He’s positioned himself so that he’s leaning in your doorway with his arms crossed.

Before coming to grips with the situation, you scan the boy up and down. Amusingly, you realize that he has to duck his head just to fit underneath the door header - he really is tall. You have to wonder if he’ll ever stop growing.

Aside from his intensified bedhead (which doesn’t shock you) and the sleepiness in his eyes, he looks normal. But you must look positively spooked, because the moment he sees you, there’s a flicker of humor in his golden eyes… and an almost invisible smirk.

At least he isn’t angry. That fact alone allows you to let out the breath you’ve been holding in. Anger isn’t really a trait you’d ascribe to him anyway.

“It’s funny…” He wonders aloud, “I thought we’d agreed to something yesterday.” Kuroo brings a mocking hand to his chin in a thinking motion.

Your body naturally begins to shrink into your seat. You want to sigh, protest, explain yourself… anything to keep him from lecturing you. But, technically, you deserve this.

“I’m pretty sure you promised me you’d be in bed, asleep,” He emphasizes “by 2 am…”

“And” he adds, motioning evenly to your set up, “I highly doubt you’re up early just to get work done.”

You bite your lip while gripping and releasing the fabric of your sweatpants.

Kuroo isn’t a mind reader by any extent, but the body has a language of its own. Right now, your actions are murmuring signs of discomfort. And exhaustion, according to your dark circles.

Kuroo heaves out something between a sigh and a yawn before he takes another couple of steps into your room.

The sound of mattress springs and rustled bed sheets gets you to turn your head toward him, though you hesitate to meet his gaze.

He makes himself comfortable.

This is a familiar scene, Kuroo invading your space. Well, it’s less of an invasion and more of an unspoken agreement that the both of you can ‘come and go as you please’ in regards to bedrooms, granted that the “invader” knocks first.

Essentially, if Kuroo wanted company, he would find his way to you and plop himself on the edge of your bed. You would do likewise. The interaction could last 5 minutes or 3 hours depending on your mental stamina that day.

In a way, it mimicked your childhood - going over to Kenma’s and knocking relentlessly on his bedroom door until he finally let you and Kuroo tumble through the doorway together. The only difference now is in the way that you spend time together. Conversations become deeper a lot faster. Belly-laughs after a miserable day of classes are considered sacred. Study sessions are done shoulder to shoulder and with a myriad of disgusted faces when frustrated with a particularly tricky problem.

But this is different from your usual conversations. It’s sickeningly early, you haven’t slept a wink, and a tidal wave of stress from this entire semester is finally crashing into you.

“I’m sorry,” You start softly, fiddling with your fingers, “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about this expository essay I’ve been working on and my mind is totally numb. I’m so stressed out by all of these-”

“-Classes.” He finishes for you.

You swallow, bobbing your head softly in confirmation.

“I get it.”

And just by looking at him, you know he understands. For someone so laid back and put together, Kuroo’s eyes could speak a novel’s worth of emotion and information at any given moment.

“But you’ve already spent more than enough time on it.”

Have I really? Have I actually done enough? Because it feels like I’m failing. Like I can’t seem to finish what I’ve started. I can’t even complete this paper.

But at least Kuroo sounds resolute.

He’s stating a fact, not an opinion.

And he’s not trying to be unempathetic. He does get it, he really does.

But Kuroo also sees how hard you work already. And he knows all too well that there’s only so much work you can get done in one night. You’ve got enough on your plate even without your classes, so having the extra academic pressure is just the cherry on top.

“Mm,” you hum, “yeah, I guess you of all people would know.” You hunch over and rest your elbows on your thighs, using your hands to prop your head up.

He’d been there at your most and least productive moments. On days when you were cranking out a few thousand words and nights when you could only jot down a few sentences. Hell, Kuroo had even volunteered to help you edit and format it when the time came. What kind of person offers to do that before they’ve even been asked to?

It’s just another feature of his charm, you suppose.

But you still feel stuck. Like you’re a boat stranded in the middle of the ocean and you just can’t seem the muster up the strength to pull up the anchor. The anxiety lingers.

“...It just doesn’t feel like it’s ever enough, y’know?” You breathe out.

There it is. Finally out in the open.

And Kuroo hums thoughtfully to himself.

He’s been there.

Not knowing if the effort he put into his work was having any actual effect. Being unsure as to when he should stop taking responsibility for something. Putting work, classes, and people before himself.

It’s draining; a swirling spin-cycle of exhaustion.

But he’s also been learning that “enough” is subjective. So he decides to say just that.

“Enough is a pretty vague word, don’t you think?”

You blink.

Yeah, you suppose it is.

Hopefully this isn’t another one of his bizarre epiphanies - the kind that makes you think your brain is going to implode. Sometimes Kuroo could be a little too philosophical for his and your own good. But you humor him anyway.

Shifting in your seat, you give him a stiff nod.

Satisfied with your understanding, he proceeds with his thought.

“What I mean is that we probably have totally different definitions of enough...” he drawls on, “... and different standards too.”

“Okay...”

“What I mean is that-” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “-what’s ‘enough’ to you may not be ‘enough’ to me. And vice versa.”

Kuroo tilts his head back, brows furrowing in thought. He’s grasping for the right way to put it.

“Y/n, I think you’ve done enough. You’ve worked hard,” he points out, “and I don’t think I know anyone who deserves a break more than you do.”

That makes you pause. You lift your head up to catch his gaze - his eyes are already studying your expression. Something inside of you stops functioning because never have you seen such raw sincerity. Or maybe you have, but you’re only just now noticing it.

He gives you a gentle smile. It makes your chest ache.

“You mean it?” You half-whisper.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You’ve known this for years now, but Kuroo truly has a way with words. They had the ability to pierce like a harpoon or stick sweetly to you like warm honey. Even with a few (thousand) shitty jokes littered throughout your conversations, it’s only natural to be awestruck by him. By his ability to make even the most awkward of situations a little more bearable. How he subliminally knows how to soothe and temper you. You think he would make a really great businessman - he’s quite persuasive; a real salesperson.

One part of you wants to apologize to him again. Another part wants to jump up and kiss him. To tear up and cry in his arms with relief. You chalk these potential reactions up to exhaustion and hormones… but you don’t write them off entirely.

Because suddenly being 3 feet apart feels like miles. And your bed is looking terribly comfortable.

“Mind if I join you?” You ask, but you’re already moving from your seat.

He gives you an indifferent shrug - though he feels anything but.

“It’s your bed.”

Oh, you’re well aware of that fact. You can already feel heat rising to your face.

You stand up slowly, raising your arms to the ceiling in one final attempt to stretch. Then softly, you place a knee to the mattress and wedge yourself on the rest of the way until you’re sitting crisscrossed in front of him. He shifts his torso so that it’s facing you.

And now that you’re finally eye to eye, you can breathe.

He may be your crush, but you feel strangely comfortable in his presence. You always have. It’s part of what makes Kuroo... well, Kuroo. He embodies security while still pushing you out of your comfort zone. And for that, you’re grateful.

You break the silence.

“I really am sorry,” you echo your earlier apology.

You undoubtedly are. And you’re not sure why it feels like such a heavy thing to say over something as menial as a good night’s sleep.

“Hey, hey,” He soothes, reaching a hand over to ruffle your hair, “it’s no big deal, alright?”

You send him a half-hearted glare but it immediately breaks into a soft smile. His hand lingers for a moment longer than it should before he draws it away. You miss the teasing touch.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to maintain eye-contact, but even as you look away, you note that his eyes remain concentrated on you. You can’t tell if it’s you who has moved closer or if he has. Either way, those few inches of distance have narrowed by a decent margin.

“I honestly just wanted you to get some rest. You’ve had it rough and by the looks of it-” He scans your face like he’s trying to diagnose you with something.

“Hey, watch it-” You warn, narrowing your eyes.

You already know you look tired. Kuroo loves reminding you of that in his own little way.

He smirks playfully, continuing anyway.

“-You could really use the sleep.” Kuroo’s raspy voice trails off.

“But apparently even pizza isn’t a convincing enough strategy.” He gives you a lopsided grin.

You shake your head, “Oh no, no, the pizza was very convincing.”

He scoffs, “Was it, now?” Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, “Because you seem very awake to me.”

“Can’t we just blame this on the paper, please?” You sigh.

He furrows his brows in contemplation, “Hmm, no. I don’t think so. This is partially your fault.” A rather underwhelming response.

“A small part.”

“I’d say it's fifty-fifty.” He reasons with a raised eyebrow.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “Okay, you can quit whatever-” You gesture to his expression, “this is.” He always managed to pull the strangest faces and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you laugh.

He snorts, “Oh? I thought you liked-” Kuroo gestures to his own face, “whatever this is.”

His voice has a curious edge to it. Some might even call it flirtatious.

And you go quiet.

You can’t help but stare at him. His messy hair, his barely parted lips. The fact that Kuroo just woken up and somehow still looks this attractive to you is so annoying. So frustrating.

And words are failing you.

It was an innocent comment. He’s just messing with you like he usually does. Maybe this has all gone a little bit too far. You should probably just say good night (or good morning) and rest your eyes.

Yet you can’t shake the feeling that this could be the perfect segway into addressing your relationship.

At literally any other time of day, you might be more rational. You could reason with yourself that this is quite literally the weirdest time to bring up your feelings for him. But something in you needs to close the literal and figurative gap between you two. And, for some indecipherable reason, it has to happen right now.

Whatever the outcome, you trust that Kuroo will always be your safe place.

So you throw caution to the wind.

“Actually, Kuroo…” You begin, staring at your hands which are placed neatly on your lap. “I really do.”

His eyes snap to yours.

This time it’s Kuroo’s turn to go silent in contemplation. Taking in a steady breath becomes an act of labor.

“You… really do what?” He asks slowly, grasping for your intended meaning.

Your heart pounds.

“I really like you.” You clarify.

It isn’t at all eloquent, but it’s sincere. You’d once heard that honesty came easier late at night, but you had no idea that it applied to early mornings as well.

But you finally make sense of the words that just escaped your lips. Panic arises. In an attempt to hide, you bury your face in your hands. You wish you could put the words right back into your mouth.

“I-” You take a deep breath, “I think I spoke without thinking.” Is all you allow yourself to mumble.

You no longer trust yourself with words.

Your face, your whole body really, feels like it’s on fire. Humiliation begins to wash over you in red hot waves… but you startle when a pair of hands meet your wrists.

You lift your head.

His fingertips are warm and worn. Still decorated with calluses from his years of volleyball back in high school. You want to question why the world has withheld this touch from you for so long.

He lures your hands away from your face, grasping both of them gently. For a sensation so new, it was somehow strikingly familiar. A thumb is meditatively tracing small, slow circles in the middle of your palm.

You gawk in disbelief… and as you scan his face, you catch a hint of pink on his cheeks. You can’t say anything though - your own face feels like it’s just become 1000 degrees warmer.

“I kinda figured you might,” Kuroo breaks the tension rather… bluntly.

Of course he did, wait what?

“But the thing is…”

Is this some sort of rejection? Is he just letting you down gently? Is that why he’s holding your hands like they’re as fragile as fine china? Then why is he looking at you so sweetly, so tenderly-

“I wanted to be the one to say it first.”

You start planning your own funeral again.

However, this time, emotional whiplash will be your stated cause of death. At least it’s a more unconventional way to go out.

“I- uh,” you swallow, “w- what did you just say?” It comes out as a stammer.

You’re squeezing his hands a little too tightly. When you recognize your modest death grip around his fingers you loosen your hold.

Kuroo smiles, his eyes crinkling slightly.

It’s nothing like that cunning smirk that you find annoying, yet so adorable. It’s also not one of his full-scale grins. It’s far too simple and reassuring. You almost don’t trust it.

“Well, in short, I like you too,” He re-explains, searching your face for a reaction, “but... I’d hoped to tell you that over pizza on Friday.” Kuroo looks away.

If you weren’t already gaping over his personal confession, you would probably be laughing at this new side of Kuroo. He looks unmistakably bashful.

It takes you a second to recover, but you finally open your mouth to respond...

But you’re cut off by Kuroo, once again. His softened expression is long gone. And, much to your dismay, he’s suddenly shifting himself off of your bed.

“It’s just too bad you didn’t keep up your end of the bargain. I guess that means there’ll be no pizza… no movie… no me.” He slowly releases your hands, knitting his brows together to feign sorrow - it looks hilariously forced, but you’re too worried about the warmth leaving your fingertips to care.

He’s teasing you like you’re his best friend.

And that’s because you are.

So then why does it feel like something’s changed? Like he’s daring you to make the next move?

Before he can pull away and leave, you tug at his hand which draws his whole body toward you.

Your heartrate spikes through the roof. When’s the last time you’ve been this close to someone? To a guy? A guy who’s shown actual living, breathing interest in you.

And he’s in your face.

Close enough that his scent, his cologne, is drowning your senses. Close enough that his breath is fanning faintly against your cheek. Close enough that you know there’s only one thing left for you to do.

Before you can think to hesitate, your lips are brushing up against his.

Intuitively, he brings his hands to your face, closing any extra distance.

Kuroo’s thumb feathers over your cheekbone, stroking it tenderly. His lips apply very little pressure and it’s unbearably delicate, but it fills you with an indescribable warmth. His lips linger just long enough for you to detect the mint from his toothpaste - he can probably taste the cinnamon tea you’ve been sipping on over the past hour. As far as kisses go, it’s reserved, but perfect for this distinct moment.

Plus, you figure, this is just the first of many longer, more eager kisses - though you can’t imagine being more breathless than you already are right now.

But you can hardly get another taste of him before those warm hands on your cheeks are prying you away. He stares. You stare back. His eyes are brimming with something warm and full. You immediately choose to label it, “affection.”

And in a much lower voice, Kuroo murmurs, “Let’s save this for later.”

You scan his face, wondering if he’s actually serious. He gradually makes his way off of the bed and onto his feet and before you can protest, Kuroo is speaking again.

“You-”

He leans down and gingerly lifts your chin with his fingers. The gentleness of his touch almost makes you flinch, but you somehow manage to hold it in the road. Though now you’re really at a loss for words.

“-need to get some good rest.”

He places a chaste kiss on your forehead.

You still feel it after he pulls away. After he closes the door. After you’ve laid you head down on your pillow in shock.

How does he expect you to fall asleep after all of that?

---

extra: this is dedicated to Izzy - our sleep schedules may be jacked up, but i’m pretty sure it’s a blessing in disguise if we’re taking our time zones into consideration. thanks for making me laugh & for not stealing my quarter of the braincell.

and to my precious friends and followers - thank you for being patient with me. it’s hard to post or even write at the moment, but i’m steadily pushing myself toward a better mindset. i appreciate your comments, likes, and the fact that y'all even bother to check out my works in the first place. i’m working on it.

also happy birthday, Tetsu. you’re a real star.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo

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collecting-stories · 3 years

Text

Invisible - Luke Patterson

Summary: You and Luke finally admit your feelings to each other.

A/N: My first time writing JATP...

Julie and the Phantoms Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The piano was more of a prop at this point than anything, practically holding you up as you leaned against it, tapping at the same key over and over, the pout playing on your lips unmistakable. Mrs. Harrison had given out instructions at the beginning of the month that she wanted an original composition by each student in the class. It was a simple enough assignment and honestly, you’d been finished for weeks now but there was no way you get up in front of the class and perform the song you had written.

When Flynn had badgered you last week you had sworn that you didn’t have a crush on Luke. He was just Julie’s bandmate and, of course, a ghost. “You always want what you can’t have, I was worried that included him.”

Luke, you were beyond positive, did not feel the same way about you. He was focused on the band and, possibly, figuring out what they needed to eventually crossover. Besides, you were pretty sure that he liked Julie. Their chemistry together on stage was undeniable and maybe it was just for show, but you doubted there was a chance with him at all. So, you lied and told Flynn that you didn’t like him but then every song you wrote lately was about him and you knew you could sing any of them in front of the class.

“Hey!”

“Crap!” You jumped, almost falling off the piano bench. You looked over to your bed where Luke was laying, sprawled across the comforter, smiling innocently at you. “You have got to stop doing that!”

Whatever had happened when the club stamps disappeared from their wrists, you couldn’t be entirely sure. All you knew was that you could actually hug them now, high five, fist bump, hold hands with. Alex had even attempted to give you a piggyback that had ended in a mess of limbs on the ground. But they were still ghosts. Cute, talented, way more attractive in a cut off shirt than he should be, ghosts.

“Sorry,” He sat up, swinging his legs around to hang off the side of the bed, “thought you were coming over to Julie’s?”

You cringed. You had promised to go to Julie’s to play them the song before Friday but you had chickened out. Maybe it wouldn’t be obvious to Luke or the guys but there was no tricking Julie or Flynn, they would know immediately that any song you sang was about Luke. You had essentially laid all your feelings out there for him and there was no way you could perform something so personal in front of him.

“I was...I’m just still...ironing out some kinks.” You shrugged, running your fingers over the keys experimentally.

You had spent plenty of late nights with Luke, in your room writing music, cataloging snippets of lyrics that you pretended weren’t about him but the truth was that he was all you could think about. The change they’d gone through after the Orpheum had only made it harder to deny how you felt.

“I thought you were finished your song,” Luke said, coming around the piano. He reached for the sheet music on the stand but you grabbed it first, shoving it back into your bag.

The look of hurt that flickered was quickly replaced by curiosity as Luke took a seat beside you on the bench. “It just needs some work.”

“What have ya got so far?” He asked, not letting up. Luke was nothing if not persistent, especially when he thought someone was holding out on telling him something and you definitely were. He leaned close to you, trying to goad you into showing him the sheet music.

“Nothing worth showing off, which is why I didn’t go to Julie’s,” you admitted, “I’m supposed to have a song by tomorrow and so far...I’ve got nothing.” Not entirely true but you couldn’t tell him the real reason you were avoiding Julie’s house.

Before Luke could answer you, your mom called up the stairs for dinner. It was a welcomed distraction, an excuse to leave the room and hopefully the conversation behind. Maybe you could write a song about your mom’s lasagna or going to the mall with friends once you were done dinner. Something superficial and dumb. You left Luke in your room and headed downstairs to eat.

That, of course, was your first mistake. Trusting Luke not to snoop was always a risk, he was a naturally inquisitive person, to put it nicely. The moment you left your room he was pulling your sheet music and your notebook out to see if the song you had written was as bad as you claimed it was. He skimmed the first two lines, smiling when he recognized the hook that he’d helped you with three nights ago when you couldn’t sleep and he was annoyed with Alex and Reggie.

He hummed along to the chords as he read the lyrics, not even realizing, as he went, that he was frowning. This song that you said wasn’t very good was fantastic but that’s not why he was upset. Whoever you had written about, it was obvious that you liked them, a lot. Thinking that he’d helped you write a love song for someone else stung more than he thought it would. He knew what Alex would say, that if anyone shouldn’t get together it was a ghost and a lifer but he couldn’t help the crush he had on you.

“Hey!” It was your turn to spook him, Luke’s head snapping up to look at you, eyes wide for a second before he grinned sheepishly.

“Sorry, just thought maybe a second set of eyes might help.”

“Luke,” you sighed, incapable of actually being upset with him, “I told you it wasn’t done.”

“It definitely is. It’s great, honestly.” He replied. He might not love that you were writing some guy a love song but he wasn’t gonna lie about your talent.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” You replied, standing on the other side of the piano, taking the first few pages to look them over.

“So, who’s the guy?” He asked. Luke’s inquisitiveness got the best of him every time...he couldn’t help wondering who had stolen your attention so much that you wrote about them.

“What?” You asked, looking up at him as if you were surprised by the question. You weren’t, you didn’t want him seeing the song because you knew that he would ask about the subject and you couldn’t lie to Luke. You wished you could, it would make things a whole lot easier if you could pretend like the song was about some guy from school but you hadn’t really ever liked anyone the way you liked Luke.

“The song...come on, who did you write it about?” He asked.

“No one,” you replied too quickly, “just, you know...a song. About, just like...made up stuff.”

“Made up stuff? I know you...I know that’s real emotion on the page and not some ‘made up stuff’. So...who?” He pushed.

“Like I said, no one.”

Luke nodded slowly, appraising the few pages that he still had in his hands, “okay, okay...I don’t believe you.”

“Well, you don’t have to but it’s true.”

“This is way too-”

“Luke!” You stressed, “just drop it.”

“Why?”

You groaned, sitting down on your bed and flopping onto you back, now he was going to antagonize you about why you didn’t want him to know who the person you liked was. And if he knew that, if he knew anything, you were positive that he would put two and two together and figure out that it was him. Luke called your name and you groaned again.

“Look I wrote the song about a guy that I really, really like who totally doesn’t even like me and like, I might as well be a ghost like you guys because I’m totally invisible to him and it’s so frustrating because...ugh.” You covered your face with your hands, mumbling through them, “I want him to like me but it’s never gonna happen.”

“Maybe just, tell this guy you like him...show him this song or something?” Luke suggested, every word feeling heavy on his tongue. The last thing he wanted to tell you was to go ahead and pursue this guy. “I mean, you’re you, who wouldn’t notice you or like you?” He certainly had and did.

“No way Luke,” you huffed, “that is like the last thing I wanna do...I do not need rejection right now.”

“Come on,” Luke got up from the piano and came over to sit with you on the bed. He grabbed your arms, pulling you to sit up with him. “No one in their right mind is gonna reject you.”

“I appreciate the confidence.”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” he laughed, prodding your sides with his fingers in an effort to make you laugh.

“Stop!” You pushed his hands away but he was already smiling.

“Look, I’ll even help you,” he offered, “tell me who you like and I’ll help you, ya know, tell ‘em.”

“How will you help me tell them?” You asked, skeptically.

“I’ll help you with the song.”

You bit your bottom lip, thinking over what he had said about you telling your crush and what he said about helping you. “Okay, will you play the guitar part for it? I think the piano is nice but I kinda wanna hear it with the guitar.”

“Yeah, totally.” He nodded, gulping down the feeling of dread that settled over him. He could just see it, this song going well and you landing this guy you were clearly crazy about. All those sappy lyrics you wrote about love and longing were all for someone else.

He grabbed the guitar from its stand as you made room on the bed for him to actually play. You listened to him play the opening chords, missing your que the first time and then stopping him before he could get to it the second time. You reached out and grabbed his hand.

“What’s up?” He asked, thinking he had played something wrong.

You knew this was a massive risk, one you could potentially regret forever. One you were certain you would regret forever. But you took the chance anyway. “I just, I have to be honest with you about the song...” you trailed off.

“What about it?”

“The guy I wrote it for...it was you.”

Time felt frozen for a moment as Luke sat there, taking in this new piece of information. “Me?” He finally said.

“Yeah...I really like you. I know it’s super crazy cause, ya know...but I can’t help it.” You explained. “So?”

A smile crossed Luke’s face, “how could you ever think that I wouldn’t like you back?” He asked, “I’m crazy about you.”

“Seriously?” You knew you must’ve looked completely shell-shocked but you couldn’t help it. You had written off your crush as one side for a while now and hearing him tell you that it wasn’t felt infinitely better than you could describe.

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded. He pushed the guitar away so that he could scoot closer to you, his hand reaching up to lay on your cheek, pulling you into a kiss. You couldn’t even begin to describe what it felt like, oddly warm, completely perfect, as if the two of you were meant to fit together like this. Luke pulled away first, eyes meeting yours as he licked his lips. “God, this feels so surreal.”

“Well, you are a ghost.” You joked, stealing another quick kiss.

#luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #luke patterson x you #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson fanfic #luke patterson fanfiction #luke patterson fic #julie and the phantoms fic #julie and the phantoms fanfic #julie and the phantoms fanfictions #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp fanfic #jatp fanfiction #jatp fic #jatp imagine #collecting stories imagine

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taehoneycheeks · 3 years

Text

Spilling Truth

"After your tooth surgery, the anesthesia started to show its effects a little too well"

Pairing: Yoongi × reader

Genre: tooth-rotting fluff, relationship!AU

Warning: pg_13

Word count: 1.5k

Credit : @taehoneycheeks ©️

Your tooth was killing you and you couldn't do anything. It has been three days since your wisdom tooth started aching and now it was beyond comparison. The pain was quite intense. Your gums were swollen indicating that your tooth was trying to break through your mouth and honestly you wanted nothing else. You had pain in your jaw and difficulty opening your mouth.

You had tried everything to make the pain go away. Rinsed your mouth with salt water, used peppermint essential oil, tea tree oil, crushed garlic, even rubbed whiskey to the surface of your gum to dull the pain but nothing lasted for more than an hour.

Right now it was morning of the fouth day and you couldn't take it anymore so you finally thought telling your -oh so ignorant- boyfriend about your problem. So you put some clover oil on a piece of cotton and tucked it between your teeth and went to the living room where he was lounging on the sofa, still wearing his blue pj's.

"Oongi!" you said, pronouncing his name all wrong because of the pain and the cotton.

"What?" he asked, looking confused, all while knowing your problem.

"I feed to see a dockur" you rambled making him snort.

"Oongi!! I need to see a dockor" you tried again speaking most of the words correctly. He laughed this time and said-

"You are saying that 'you need to see a doctor' right?" he replied and you nodded too quickly which made your jaw hurt.

"Alright, I'll book an appointment for this afternoon and then we can go see the doctor together okay?" he stated and you said a quite okay and then went back to your shared bedroom to have some rest. After a while you heard Yoongi's faint voice talking to someone on the phone. He came in the room after a few minutes, all changed, wearing a pair of black jeans and his black jacket.

"Hey" he said leaning against the door "I booked an appointment for 1 p.m. so be ready and don't sleep in" he ordered sarcastically and you gave a quite 'hmm' in response.

Now you were sitting on the passenger seat and Yoongi was driving to the doctor's clinic while grumbling about how you couldn't tell him about your problem at once when it started.

"How could you be so irresponsible when you knew about your tooth!" he said and you groaned and rolled your eyes. As if you would have reacted you thought.

After half an hour of complaining, both of you finally reached the clinic where luckily you were just in time for the appointment. You said your greetings to the doctor and she asked you to sit on the seat while beginning her observations.

"There has to be a surgery. Because of your tooth, your gums are very swollen and if we don't take the tooth out, the results could be fatal" she commented after her examination and just by hearing the word 'surgery' your blood ran cold.

You looked at Yoongi and he gave you a thumbs up for reassurance which didn't help at all.

Yoongi was dismissed from the room and a dose of anesthesia was given to you to numb the pain in your gums. The surgery took upto thirty minutes and now your tooth was removed and a cotton bud was attached to your jaw to help soak the saliva. The only thing was that the anesthesia had started to show its after-effects on you.

Your mind felt like it was filled with fog and you were feeling loopy and groggy but somehow extremely relaxed. The doctor discharged you after the surgery and you were asked to sit down while Yoongi was talking to the doctor. After that, he immediately held you by the waist and guided you both to the car where he made you sit in your seat and then crossed the car to reach the driver's seat.

"The doctor said that you will feel a little loopy because of the anesthesia but after a good sleep and drinking lots of water you will be good again" he said while sitting in his seat.

"A little!" you giggled "I feel a lot loopy" you laughed emphasizing the word 'lot'. Yoongi looked at you bewildered, then he shook his head and said "yeah I can see that" then he reached for your seat belt which you must have forgot to buckle.

He looked so handsome with his black hair parted at sides and his pink lips drawn in a thin line looking so focused and exceptionally stunning.

"I have such a handsome boyfriend" you marveled, drool sliding down your chin due to the cotton in your mouth, and he smiled at your comment averting his eyes to meet yours. Then he sat back and buckled his seat.

The drive back was as quite as the ride before except this time Yoongi kept glancing towards you to check on you and every time your eyes met, he snapped his head away with a small smile on his face like a teenager who has a crush.

When you both reached your driveway, he unbuckled your seat belt and first he got out of the car then he himself opened the door for you to come out, which happened on very rare occasions. Then he hooked his hands on your waist and lead you forward.

"YOONGI!! where are you! my BABY!" you shouted as you entered your living room.

"Aish! I am here no need to shout" he said while holding his hand close to his ears.

"My baby! you are looking so cute today!" you beamed and jumped to hug him making a slight blush creep up to his cheeks. "This is just because of the anesthesia, don't act weird" he said while getting out of the hug and going to the kitchen.

"No my baby! you are looking super handsome today with that leather jacket and soft hair" you sighed still smiling making him blush more.

"You are saying these cheesy stuff just because your mind is foggy, go sit on the sofa" he ordered and you obliged. After a while he came in and sat next to you and gave you a glass of water which you drank happily. You saw him grab a tissue paper and bringing it to your chin to wipe off some drool which you didn't notice was there. Then he was again on his phone, probably checking for any new updates.

"Yoongi" you said a little while later to which there was no response "Yoongi!" you tried again and this time he gave you a 'hmm' in response without looking from his phone.

"I love you" you said while watching him with rapt attention. He met your eyes and you could see a dark pink shade of blush forming in his pale skin.

"I am so lucky to have you in my life" you said cheerfully and now his face was bright red and he was blushing.

"Are you blushing?!" you asked "n-no it's just a little hot in here" he said and his little stammering was enough to confirm you doubt.

"Oh Yoongi" you said scooting over to him and wrapping yourself around his arm "I love it when you show your emotions" you mumbled "please never change" you said while closing your eyes.

You felt yourself being lifted up and when you opened your eyes you saw him carrying you bridal style to your bedroom.

"You know, usually the husband carries his wife like this to their honeymoon suite" you commented and Yoongi immediately stopped dead in his tracks and stared at you with big eyes and you just laughed at him and closed your eyes and snuggled closer in his chest.

After a while he again started to walk and when he entered your room, you slowly opened your eyes and saw a big smile on his face and a little blush on his cheeks and you were sure that your comment made a huge effect on him.

He slowly laid you on the bed and tucked you in the covers. Then he closed the lights and started to exit the room. You were sure you heard a faint i love you jagi but until then you were already drifting to sleep.

You slowly woke up from your sleep and saw the time. It was almost night. You crept out of your room and heard dishes clattering in the kitchen so you went there and saw Yoongi preparing the dinner.

Your head was throbbing with pain and you groaned which caught his attention. "How was your sleep?" he inquired. You reeled through your mind to remember when you fell asleep but couldn't remember anything.

"Baby...I had pain in my tooth then I told you about it and then we went to the dentist then she did some surgery on it but i don't remember anything after that" you said which made Yoongi smile and he said-

"Oh you would love to know".

A/n: Heya! How are you guys doing? Thank you so much for reading my little piece of work. I saw this prompt on Google and immediately thought of our ever sarcastic Yoongi blushing and just went for it. Please ignore any typos or mistakes. Hope you liked it!

#bts × reader #bts fanfic #bts yoongi #bts army #bts fluff #bts #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #🐯

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falsegoodnight · 3 years

Text

this is part two of my december fic rec! this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 18th to the 28th!! it’s also my birthday today which makes it even more special! i can think of no better way to spend today than spreading positivity! :)

you can find part one of this month here

✰ there’s happiness because of you by @hadestyles | NR | 1k - (so soft, tender, and beautiful!! rori’s writing amazes me always! and this was written for my birthday because they’re an angel <3)

Thursday mornings have always been their favourite.

✰ and it gets colder and colder by @hadestyles | E | 2K - (another rori fic!! once again, beautiful prose! made me feel emotional!)

Harry wants to take care of Louis. Things take a turn.

✰ make my wish come true by @soldouthaz | M | 3k - (drabble from this series) (so cute, lovely, soft, amazing!!! made my heart so happy! this is also dedicated to me which :’) sarah angel chant)

The taste of Christmas cookies fresh out of the oven and peppermint hot chocolate is still heavy on his tongue. Harry’s sweater provides some warmth and it still smells of him from before he left for his internship two weeks ago, but it’s nowhere near the feeling of his arms wrapped around him. Louis shivers despite the blankets.

✰ spirit meets the bones by @hadestyles | E | 3k - (i had to edit to add this because rori wrote another beautiful little fic for me :’) beautiful prose, beautiful emotions, so so so beautiful, gosh. pure poetry!)

The action shouldn’t fill his eyes with tears but it does. These small gestures mean the world to him. A steady reminder that Harry does notice all the tiny, seemingly insignificant details that make Louis him.

✰ 29 Blows by @quelquesetoiles | E | 4k - (super hot but also so cute!! love the concept of the birthday tradition in this one!!!)

For over a decade now, Harry has had his little tradition. It wouldn't be a Louis Tomlinson birthday without his best friend finding new, ingenious ways to make his life more difficult.

It's cute, it's funny, it's theirs, until Harry takes it a step too far on Louis' 29th birthday.

✰ calm me down (before i sleep) by @erodiansunflower | E | 7k - (a pwp and super hot, but also super cute??)

Prompt 24: Harry is a sex shop owner that has a crush on Louis, the shy customer who flirts with him while buying cute buttplugs, lace panties, and collars. One day, Louis asked Harry to help him put on a corset (they end up fucking in the dressing room). Things escalate quickly from there, so they start seeing each other seriously while trying other sex stuff.

✰ You’re Never Alone With a Moon This Bright by @helloamhere | T | 8k - (part one of this series) (WOW this was incredible and i am ENTRANCED! this author is an all-time favorite and idk why it took me so long to get to this series but i’m here now!! and loving it!!)

Louis was a monster. But sometimes, even monsters get a Christmas.

✰ Be a Good Girl For Me by @sincetheywere16and18 | E | 9k - (really hot and cute!!!)

Based on this prompt: “AU where Harry is Louis’ older brother’s best friend. He catches Louis dancing around his room in panties and blackmails him, saying that louis has to do anything he says or else he’ll tell Louis’ family that he wears girly underwear. Secretly soft for him, Harry gives him easy tasks and uses the whole thing to spend more time with Louis. Eventually, the orders begin to escalate and Harry teases Lou about his secret, making Louis shy and embarrassed. Louis loves the attention though, and forms a crush on his brother’s best friend. Lots of feminization, secret relationship, and enemies to lovers. Thank you!”

✰ it’s hard to fight naked by @loustarlight | E | 11k - (LOVED this so much!!! a big fan of enemies/flatmates to lovers especially when there’s a walk-in involved!!)

Louis leaves dirty socks on the couch, Zayn does assignments while he's high, and Harry is hopelessly crushing on his roommate.

✰ Sweet Scary Creatures by @specklelouis | M | 13k - (jurassic park au!! so cute and fun!!! loved louis’ character growth in this in particular!)

They stare into each other's eyes for a while until Louis remembers this is too intimate and looks at Harry’s hands on his thigh. It spans a big portion of his thigh and Louis has always been insecure about how thick he is, so he loves that Harry has huge, dustbin hands that hold him and makes him feel smaller, safer.

✰ hereafter (ad infinitum) by @larryent | M | 13k - (this was absolutely beautiful!! the writing was incredible, the contrast between the old timeline and new one impeccable, and the letters!!! love them!! and vampire harry is always a win!)

"A legacy is every life you’ve touched. And you’ve touched mine twice."

On the coast of San Francisco in 2024 is when Harry falls in love all over again.

✰ Believe Me When I Say You Have It All by @helloamhere | T | 20k - (part two of this series) (loved this even more than it’s predecessor. not to be dramatic, but i’d die for the louis and harry in this series. this whole world has my heart)

Harry had never faced anything in this forest that had actually succeeded in scaring him. Louis was no exception.

✰ Yours to Lose by @loulicate-recs | M | 26k - (so cute and soft and sweet!!! louis and harry were both angels and IAN <3 little cutie!!! so proud of you hanis!)

Louis always gets distracted with his mummy duty and he eventually catches Harry's attention.

✰ But It’s Useless by @thinlinez | E | 26k - (this put such a big smile on my face!! so cute and lovely!! louis was a relatable and adorable menace and harry was a smitten idiot but they both got there in the end!!)

Omega Louis would never guess that he would be trying to hack into Alpha Harry's Wifi. That is until everything changes when he tries to get to know his enemy.

✰ Stuck On You by Writewhatiwant | E | 34k - (so so sweet! loved the aspect of stickers in this fic and how louis found joy in them!! really loved how both louis and harry (especially harry) grew throughout this story and how they found peace at the end!)

Louis’ life revolves around his stickers. Harry’s life revolves around his job. The universe has decided their worlds should revolve around each other.

✰ smoke between your teeth by @soldouthaz | E | 37k - (i think everyone knows how much i adore sarah and her fics but this one just might be a new favorite! loved all the psych stuff, the pining, the rom-com worthy confession <3 brilliant!)

Louis tries to stop his addiction to cigarettes and discovers he's been addicted to Harry for much, much longer.

✰ Your Life Worth Walking on a Bright Morning by @helloamhere | T | 38k - (part three of this series) (it just keeps getting better and better <3 so comforting and consistent and beautiful!)

For all its complexity, Louis sometimes reminded himself, life could always be simplified into a series of forks in the road. Even overwhelmingly big things were survivable when you broke them down to their choice. One path or the other, left or right.

✰ On The Edge by @zanniscaramouche | E | 47k - (so crazy good!! zanni is always amazing me!! loved the ice skating, the hockey, the misunderstandings, the multi-faced and beautiful characters and relationships - all so perfect!)

Figure skating is as vital to Louis’ identity as his DNA, so when his skates go missing right before the last Olympics of his career there may be a meltdown only vanilla bath salts can fix. Well, that and the stupidly charming hockey player he met on the plane.

Harry’s too old to be the wonder kid and too young to be taken seriously in the NHL. As an alternate thrown in at the last second, he fights to prove himself on the national team at the largest sporting event known to man. Or he will, once he gets off this flight and can focus on something other than the fussy figure skater and his stunningly blue eyes.

A baggage mix-up skews both of their perfectly laid plans for gold, forcing the two to work together as the clock clicks towards the minute they’re expected to shine on centre ice.

✰ made for lovin’ you by @cuddlerlouis | E | 53k - (loved this so much!! touch depri/accidental bonds are my favorite and this was no exception!!! the characterizations, the tension, the misunderstandings, the tenderness, the fluff!!! so good!)

A quick, horny decision ruins Louis’ summer plans, but may also lead to unexpected discoveries. Featuring the road trip of dreams, misunderstandings, and a bit of fate.

✰ social cues by @outropeace | E | 56k - (so fucking good!! the slow burn in this was impeccable!!! pair it with friends with benefits, mutual pining, angst, misunderstandings... amazing <3)

To Harry, Louis was becoming as tangible and essential as music in his life. He still was a mystery but at the same time, he was one of the most real things Harry had. He just hoped he could live up to the image Louis probably had in his mind of him.

He could play the part, after all, what was published of him wasn’t as detached from reality. He didn’t think of himself as a rockstar cliche, although he couldn't deny he did sleep around, partied a lot, and did some drugs. But then again, wasn’t that what the majority of his friends back in his hometown were doing at college?

Harry wanted to impress Louis, he didn’t want to disappoint or leave his expectations unfulfilled, so he’d give him the full rockstar experience.

It was a very simple plan, what could possibly go wrong?

✰ dripping like spider milk by @raspberryoatss | E | 64k - (pip amazing me with her talent? a common occurrence. this was so wonderfully written and so well done!! loved the characterizations, the dynamic, the angst, the miscommunication, the pining, the HUMOR!!! it was all so amazing!!)

When he sees the alpha, his brown hair curling around the top of his neck and his broad back that’s filled out over the past couple of years, Louis freezes for a moment. The alpha turns around, Louis’ surprised expression mirrored on his own for a fraction of a second before he schools it into a big, yet shy grin and a wave of his huge hand. With his nostrils flared, Louis knows that he can smell him, too.

They never hired alphas, except for—

“Harry.”

✰ a taste of freedom and sweetened passion by @tomlinvelvetfics | M | 74k - (okay technically haven’t finished reading this one yet but i want to get this up early and i already know this is amazing because it’s LATE and she’s incredible!!! and, i mean, anne of green gables?? abo?? best birthday gift ever!! will be spending the day reading this in bliss <3)

“Are you mad?” he explodes, throwing his hands up, groaning. “I was so, so close to reaching my goal, and your stupid, stalking ass had to creep up on me, hm?”

Harry is trying to keep his laughter in, walking closer to him, eyes soft. He doesn’t like the way those eyes make him feel, an odd, dangerous mix of nervous and flustered, so he bends down to pick up the books, raising an eyebrow when Harry growls in protest.

“I wanted to pick them up for you,” the alpha pouts, and Louis glares at him, getting into position and lowering the pile of yellowed pages over the top of his head.

“I’m a functional human being, thank you very much,” he grits out as he begins to walk and mentally count the amount of steps he takes. One, two, three, for heaven’s sake Harry fuck off!, four, five. He doesn’t let himself be distracted as the alpha walks along with him despite the slow pace, green eyes focused on him in a way that would, in any other cases, compelled him to throw a book in the alpha’s face.

He doesn’t know why he doesn’t do it and certainly doesn’t want to think about the reason, whatever it might be.

If you read any of these lovely fics, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

#fic recs #my fic recs #28th appreciation #2020 recs #december recs #december 2020 recs

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moonlilith · 4 years

Text

stuck with you

↬ Pairing: Kozume Kenma x reader

↬ Timeline: timeskip

↬ Genre: Fluff ☁️

↬ Wordcount: 1,061

↬ Masterlist: HERE!

↬ AN: another self-indulge fic that relates to me sometimes even before quarantine has started. Im currently ongoing with online classes which I believe is making me lazier than I usually do but still it's better than when my classes haven’t started. And this is basically the rules that my country had mandated during the first wave of covid where we couldn’t go out like we do now. Anyhow, stay safe everyone and thank you frontlines, may god bless you all.

“What are you doing?” Kenma popped his head and looked at you questionably as he looked at the wall clock. It was close to 2pm and you haven't even got up from your bed. “I’m meditating.” You answer as you tugged the covers off you. It was a hot day, and it has been close to two weeks of total quarantine. Only the head households are allowed to go out and its only on Tuesday and Thursday so getting the groceries wasn’t an activity you can do now.

“Get up, y/n.” he said softly walking towards you and pulling your leg softly. “You’re not meditating, you’re sleeping and it’s only going to make your insomnia worse if you sleep during the day.” Kenma only sigh worriedly looking at you. He can't blame you for being so lethargic.

Before the lockdown, you were always moving around from one place to another and to Kenma, the current situation isn't that much different from his usual maybe for the university part, but his university decided to have a short break to adjust with the unforeseeable events.

“Get up and take a shower y/n. I have cooked some noodles and we’ll have to think early what we’ll eat tonight since food delivery is only until 7pm.” He walked towards the bathroom and got your clothes ready for you. You only send a glare at him but continue pouting when he pointed towards the bathroom.

You both were eating in silence and yet it saddens Kenma out to see his sunshine all worn down. You both knew this quarantine was for the best and knew how thankful you were to the healthcare profession, but you just can't help but feel the quarantine have been dragging you so down. “Let’s do this.” Kenma reaches for your hand on the other side of the table.

“Every day we’ll do a new activity, so you would be excited every day.Besides, I’m stuck with you and you’re stuck with me. ” You brighten up at the idea. “Hey! You made that sound like it’s a bad thing.” You pouted playfully. You had always been someone that just couldn’t sit still and Kenma was the total opposite. It still amazed Kuroo how someone like Kenma fall in love with someone as restless as you. Kenma gain the courage to confess to you right after they’ve won a game and you, you always had a crush on him.

“Hey babe, can you get the parcel at the door. I’m still streaming.” He shouted from his work room aka his game room. You obliged since you weren't actually doing anything. You picked up the parcel that the deliveryman left after he had announced that there was a parcel. It was contactless ofcourse to avoid the virus spreading around. You picked up the box and left it on the counter when Kenma went out of his room and picked up a penknife.

“Let’s open my present for us. Thankfully it didn’t sell out before I bought it because this is a quarantine essential.” He urged you to help him open the parcel and it was two Nintendo switch. “Babe!” You were in shock as you pulled out not one but two Nintendo switch. “You could have just bought one.” You told him again when he went ahead and open his as you still shocked staring at the box.

“If I bought one, I can’t play Animal Crossing with you. Now less complaining, more islandning.” You thought that was the last where he had spent money just for you to have a different activity. The next day, a parcel of embroideries set came. When you asked him all he said that ‘Tiktok says it’s fun.” The next was a painting set by numbers, and the other day was skincare set that Kenma sees everywhere in Tiktok.

The next day after he had done with his activities, he pulled you towards the gaming room. “Let’s farming.” He said briefly and you were confused until you see the ‘Stardew Valley’ intro. It was easy to get lose in the game. The next day, he taught you to play Valorant. It was intense and you play with Kuroo, Yaku and Lev too. It was fun, you must admit since you can’t physically see them.

The next after, you played Among Us but this time there was Shoyo, Kageyama, Tsukishima, Bokuto, and Akaashi. It was truly fun and scary to see how Kenma could lie straight to everyone faces but one thing for sure was that he refused to kill you which led to Kuroo calling him a simp. A term that you definitely have heard but didn’t know the meaning off.

“Love?” You peeked at him as he was scrolling through the online shopping site. “What are you doing?” You walked towards him. “Oh, I didn’t know you were up. I was looking for some fun activities to do.” You frowned looking at him, pulling him outside to the living room. “Let’s watch anime or kdrama for today.” He gave you a frown but still followed you out as you picked what show you wanted.

And as much as you hated how he was spending his money recklessly; you still love every inch of Kenma for going beyond just so that he could see you smile. You were getting ready for bed when you see that Kenma was still streaming. You decided to peek at him and slowly walked behind his chair, your hand looping around his neck before kissing his cheek. “Let’s just stick to watching shows or playing games and anything we’ve had for tomorrow and the next day it comes.” Kenma didn’t paused his game yet he took a glance towards you, “You’ll get bored--”

“As long as I’m with you and we’re together, I’ll never get bored.” You said kissing his forehead, forgetting that the stream was still on. “Ah, I’m sorry guys, I have to end the stream abruptly.” He said and pulled you towards the bedroom. “What? What about your stream Kodzuken, your fans Kenchis?.” You said pushing him softly, but he shook his head. “Kuroo’s right. I am a simp for you.” You only can tilt your head confused looking at him. “And my fans are not Kenchis.” He laid his head on your lap as you played with his hair.

↬ happy late birthday kenma!!

↬ luckily kenma is a rich btch that can buy the nintendo switch. i cant relate since im broke af and i still want to play acnh. and all i wanted is to have gaming dates with my s/o but first i need to find a s/o.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #kenma x reader #kozume x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!!#timeskip kenma #kenma kozume

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cloud9in · 3 years

Text

The Half of It

A Mc x Poppy fic inspired by the film

Summary: Bea, the town’s outcast is recruited by the school jock to win Poppy’s heart. But what happens when she starts falling for her as well?

Author’s Note: So this will be a multiple part series that includes scenes heavily inspired from the movie “The Half of It”. I certainly recommend watching it. My version will have different twists and a different ending, and definitely more angst. It will include mature themes as the story progresses.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing. This is a good thing for now.

Chapter 1-

“Love is simply the name for desire and pursuit of the whole.”

- Plato, The Symposium

It is said that when one half finds its other, there’s an unspoken understanding. A unity. And each would know no greater joy....than this.

...Except this is highschool. And in my opinion, there is no other half. Maybe the other half is a paper on Greek God philosophy due at midnight. But make that four papers, including mine.

My name is Bea Hughes and let’s just say...this is not a very happy story. Well maybe some parts are, but you’ll have to read to find out. I come from a small town called Farmsville, and when I mean small, I mean really small. Except the highschool seems fucking huge, with never ending hallways and when you do somehow find the end, there’s usually two inbreds eating each others mouths off. Lucky for me I am the epitome of antisocial, reserved, an introvert, or whatever the inferior beings, aka every other senior, calls me when they think I can’t hear. But I hear everything, including that one time Bradley Denbrough, upcoming hotshot actor, or so he claims, found out about a crush a poor unsuspecting freshman had on him. Everybody knew what Bradley and his goons did to that boy, even the adults, but no charges were pressed. This town is as conservative as it gets, but no one knows of my secret. I carry this school on my back when it comes to having everyone graduate, but that’s all I am to them, a pawn. And that’s all I wanted to be, nothing more and nothing less. I preferred to be in the shadows.

***

...Except the mandatory Senior Talent Show forced Bea out of her hibernation hole. The thought haunted her as she sat in the dance studio, the last fucking place she wanted to be. Dance was so not a Bea kinda thing, but the blonde knew exactly why she granted herself the misery of picking the class. Poppy Min Sinclair, the golden girl of Farmsville High, the preacher’s daughter on a more serious note. She is...the most fascinating girl Bea ever laid her eyes on even if her boyfriend was a complete asshole who sermonized his duties as her future husband. Like seriously? Poppy has got to have some screws loose to date such a fake loser who plagiarizes all of his speeches at sunday church, and once literally begged Bea to write an apology letter to his father for him after completely upending their summer cabin. Except the blonde wrote the opposite of an apology, it went something like this…

Dear beloved donkey, I mean dad,

I am terribly sorry for inviting 20 hookers to the summer cabin. I have these strange impulses and you should at least be grateful I didn’t invite the big boss as well. His wife came though, in many, many ways. You should get the carpet changed.

Sincerely, your STD free son

It was safe to say that Mr. Denbrough had a near heart attack after reading it, and Bea did kinda feel bad, kinda. He never mentioned the letter to Bradley though, instead silently calling up the owner of Teopoli Catholic Summer Camp and essentially deporting the boy to Canada for the summer. No son of his would end up in hell was what the old man preached everyday from then on. It was the quietest summer Bea had ever experienced.

Being the towns outcast, Bea could have her fun when she so chooses to, but that didn’t pay the bills. In fact, the multiple essays that people paid her to write was her way of surviving and taking care of her mother. They weren’t very rich but Bea worked with what she had, helping her mother manage the farm, which included getting on her knees and wrestling the pigs. And that’s how she was gifted the name “pig girl”, stupid Bradley and his fake friends just had to wander too far and catch Bea in the act. She swore a remixed video of her hog calling surfaced the web at one point and that gave the blonde her five minutes of fame. Boy was it an awful time in her life.

Bea worked her mother’s previous job as station master or signalman for the trains that passed through, even if it barely paid her shit. The secluded feeling of sitting in that booth and having a moment with her thoughts was enough to give her purpose. Bea was fond of poetry and it usually helped her come up with song lyrics.

Song lyrics…

That she would have to sing at the talent show. A huge sigh escaped her lips as she slumped further into the ground, maybe hoping she could bury herself six feet under. It wasn’t that Bea hated singing, no she absolutely loved it. Playing her guitar at night and belting out lyrics that only resulted in her mother banging on the ceiling below in efforts to shut the blonde up. But the mere fact that she’d have to sing in front of the ruthless seniors rubbed her the wrong way. Something would go wrong, it always did. Bea was shaken out of her thoughts when Poppy crossed the center of the room, moving her hips slowly to the sound of Rihanna’s voice. The class chose a slow r&b song to choreograph today and of course all eyes were on Poppy.

If i’m your girl say my name boy

let me know i'm in control

Her silky blonde locks swayed as she danced to the beat, hands thrusting sensually along her sides. Bea stared in awe, almost like Poppy was the only one in the room and a spotlight illuminated every movement, every curve. Except she definitely wasn’t the only one picturing Poppy in that way. Carter, the school quarterback leaned against the railing, arms crossed and eyes trailing the rise and fall of her chest.

Got me wondering, I’m wondering if i'm on your mind

Bea sat up straighter but nearly lost her bodily functions when Poppy locked eyes with her before spinning away. It was simple eye contact Bea, don’t let it get to your head. You already have multiple lyrics inspired by Poppy offering the bare minimum in human interaction. She doesn’t actually like you. Poppy is popular and has the perfect life...and boyfriend, even if Bea heavily disagrees. Poppy was a bitch of course, but not a bitch bitch. Unlike the other wannabe mean girls, the blonde didn’t give Bea hell, well that was because the girl paid her zero attention. She seemed distant, off in her own world, or well in her parents world learning the strategies of business. Poppy was expected to follow in her parents footsteps and keep up with her reputation of being the richest in town, and of course a faithful future wife. So fun. But the blonde had other prosperous dreams of travelling and following her passion of music and dance. Highschool was her only outlet and she took advantage of it any chance she’d get. Bea knew this because she would ride her bike every friday night to the school and watch Poppy dance from outside the glass window. Maybe Bea realized it was kinda creepy, but she’s dumb enough to not realize her obvious growing attraction. I mean who pedals miles just to watch someone trip on their feet?

***

The sound of the bell caught everyone's attention and the teacher slowly lowered the music. Bea watched as Bradley approached Poppy and smothered her with kisses and praises. She rolled her eyes painfully, this kind of PDA definitely wasn’t it, she could have gone her whole life without seeing that. She walked silently through the crowd of kids in the hall, everyone was laughing and talking to their friends. All Bea could allow her mind to focus on was the very intimidating billboard of names a few feet across from her.

Winter Talent Show Sign-Ups (Mandatory For Seniors)

Bea glared at it quietly before signing her name on the sheet, sealing her inevitable fate. Through the hustle of students, Carter watched the blonde with a yearning look from afar. This should be great…

The next few classes were a blur and Bea eventually found herself getting up to hand Ms. Kingsley her paper. The older woman looked at her with a knowing glance as she took a generous sip of her coffee, which was 75% tequila.

“6 different interpretations on Plato? Colour me impressed Miss Hughes.”

Bea shrugs nonchalant, “yeah well would you rather read their actual essays?”

“Oh hell no.” Kingsley feigns shock as she looks at the stack of papers with a comical expression. She takes another sip, watching her younger, prodigy of a student carefully. “You know there are places outside of this godforsaken town where you can put your talents to use... Real use. I teach at Belvoire University occasionally.” Ina winks and slides Bea an application, studying her initial reaction. “It’s...in New York.”

“Damn right! The Big Apple.”

“Kingsley you know I have to stay here. It’ll be easier for me to manage the farm and be close to home”, Bea says confidently even though her body language displays otherwise. She predicted the big sigh filling her ears before it actually happened and it still managed to faze her. “Who ever said you had to do anything? What about what you want to do?” Bea doesn’t make eye contact with Ina, that woman could convince you to do just about anything with a certain look. “No we are not doing this. You can take your reverse psychology and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. I’m outta here.” The blonde stomps out of the classroom, the sound of Ina’s chuckles still ringing in her ears.

“Hey! Everyone in this town fears God, but you know what God fears? My ability to hide a bottle of Don Julio in my left boot.” Ina pulls out the newly bought bottle and cradles it. “Come to mama.”

***

Bea rode her bike alongside the dirt road, Kingsley’s words on replay the entire ride. Maybe she did deserve to experience something more than what this town had to offer. But would her mother manage without her? Sacrifices, sacrifices. Bea was used to making those for her mother after her father’s death. What would her dad think of all of this?

“Hey!”

He’d surely smack Bea upside the head for the little antics she pulled occasionally. And then he’d buy her vanilla coconut ice cream and ask for every single detail of what happened as they sat and laughed together. That’s the kind of relationship Bea would have had with her father, she liked to assume so. She also liked to assume that she’d get home safely everyday without a scratch, but then there’s Carter.

“Hey wait up!”

The jock seemed to be running ridiculously fast and crashed right into the rear end of Bea’s bicycle, sending her face first into a mount of dirt. The initial impact was enough to boost the blonde straight back up like nothing happened and into a fighting stance, fists out and eyes wild. Very scary Bea. When she realized it was him...well it only pissed her off even more. “What the fuck Carter! You asshole!”

“I’m sorry Bea! Here let me help-”

“No! Move away! You- my bike- I…” Bea groans frustratingly, stepping away from the wreck as she tries to catch her breath. Carter watches her sheepishly, rubbing an envelope between his fingers awkwardly. After a few minutes of painfully uneasy silence he speaks up, “Okay...I didn’t want to ask you this way but I was wonder-”

“Oh, so you practically break my ass and now you want me to do you a favour? Real nice way of communication you have there Mr. Quarterback. What is with you and those freakishly large muscles anyways? Maybe it’s my fault I didn’t hear your avalanche built ass coming from behind.”

“Hey! They are not freakishly large!”

“I hate to break it to you Jackson but mine are significantly more appealing to look at.” Bea smirks widely, flexing her arm as best as she could. It’s a work in progress… just bare with her.

It didn’t take much effort for Carter to break out into a smile and look at her fondly. Maybe there was more to this girl than just being a human dictionary. Well that’s what people called her, and he maybe believed it at first.

Bea noticed the lack of response and shifted awkwardly, clearing her throat. “Listen, its $10 for three pages, $20 for three to ten, I'm not in the over-ten-page biz.”

“No..no I’m not here to cheat!” Carter blurts out. “But I’ll let you know if I do plan on- anyways. I uh..” He hesitates before handing her the envelope. “What’s this?

“Well you see it’s a letter..”

“Yeah but who writes letters these days?”

“I thought it seemed romantic..”

“And I thought women writing Jeffrey Dahmer letters in jail seemed romantic”, Bea says sarcastically, her smile dropping instantly after catching a glimpse of Poppy’s name at the top of the paper. It was like the blood stopped flowing through her body for a few seconds as her mouth went dry. This had to be the work of the so-called God everyone praised in this town, or it was one cruel coincidence. Bea wasn’t sure why seeing her name made her heart beat ten times harder, but it also wasn’t a necessarily uncomfortable feeling…

“I- I can’t help you.”

“But if you just add a few more words-”

“I’m not writing a letter to Poppy Min Sincla- to..to some girl for you. Letters are supposed to be authentic, from the heart, your own words, your...feelings.” Bea hurriedly turns to grab her bike, suddenly losing all interest in being social.

Carter was afraid this would happen. But he was stubborn. “But I can pay more for authentic!”

Too bad Bea was stubborn as well. “Just get a thesaurus...Good luck, Romeo.”

***

Bea sat in her room, strumming away softly at the strings of her guitar. Some of the keys were off but the old thing still worked, and that was good enough for her. She could hear the tv blasting downstairs, her mother most likely watching the news. There’s something about old people and news, were they secretly ogling the news anchors? Just like Bea ogled Poppy any chance she could. The blonde frowned to herself, her eyebrows crunching together in question. What so hard about writing a letter to Poppy? It’s not like it's coming from her. Well it technically is, but Carter is taking the credit and Bea never had a problem with people taking credit for her words. So why did this very thought prove to be such an inconvenience? Lucky for Bea, her mind drifted elsewhere when she heard a painful snap. Even if it wasn’t physically connected to her body, she felt a horrible ache. Slowly peering down at the guitar in her hand, Bea found that the neck of the guitar had miraculously split almost clean off, a splinter of wood just holding it intact. She wanted to scream but nothing really came out, except air of course. Much to her disapproval, this was definitely a result of her strength. Stupid muscles couldn’t contain themselves at the thought of Carter being with Poppy. Now how could that be?

But now she had no guitar. And no guitar means no strings to strum, and no lyrics to sing, and no talent to show at the talent show. Now she was in trouble. Probably because she knew that the only way to get the money to replace the guitar would be through sealing the deal with Carter. Oh fuck it!

***

“One letter. And enough money to buy a new guitar.”

“Deal!”

Bea turns away with a sigh, completely ignoring Carter’s high five. Now all she had to do was write this letter, and pray that Poppy wouldn’t completely consume every fiber of her being in the process.

-------------------------------------------

End note: So how we feelin’? Carter and Bea Brotp??

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @zigxryanz @uselesslesbianfr @aleiramacaii @thedaft1 @alexlabhont @iamsimpforpoppy

#queen b #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #mc x poppy #playchoices #I couldn't come up with a unique title #throw some ideas if you have #do share your opinion on this #it is valued #oblivious bea is a pain in the ass #but certainly fun to write

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 3 years

Note

Cil and Von pls???

Funny enough, that's what @bi-julius-caesar wanted for their birthday! The exact prompt they asked for was 'Von humiliating Cil in front of Kohga and Sooga and Cil tries to hate fuck him but ends up getting fucked instead'. So, hope both of ya'll like it!

"With pleasure, Master Kohga."

Kohga loved having beefcakes to do what he said. And Cil was one of the many who were eager to obey. Like a show pony, he was eager to perform. In this case, he insisted on having him go head to head with Sooga. Not with weapons, but with their bodies, and bodies alone. Master Kohga was frisky today, it seemed. He watched angrily as Kohga held Sooga’s face, cooing in such a sugary sweet voice. The words fell on deaf words, lost in his frustration. Then he looked at him, and made a 'come here' motion with his finger. Cil damn near skipped over, but kept his proper form.

"I don't want you to go easy on him, understand? He needs to earn his prize."

"Understood. But pray tell, what IS the prize?"

Kohga thought about it for a second, before Cil saw that smirk of his (well not really SAW, but he felt it).

"Tell you what. Winner gets a kiss."

"...any kiss?"

"Eh what the hell, why not? Sure."

Oh he was going to murder him. Cil nodded, holding onto Kohga’s hand in his own, as a sign of respect.

"It shall be done, my Master. He will have to pry this trophy from my cold, lifeless corpse."

And he meant it. He doubt Kohga would let their match get that far, but if it came down to it, he absolutely would. Anything for that kiss he needed oh so badly. For that kiss he deserved. He stepped in front of Sooga, and drew his blade. He double checked his hair in the reflection of the blade, before digging it into the floor. Sooga followed suit, both blades wedging into the wooden floors.

"I appreciate your seriousness, Cil. You and I both know that we strive to please our Master."

"Of course. He deserves nothing but the best. As in, me."

Sooga huffed. Good, he was getting under his skin. Cil stretched for a moment (maybe showing off a bit for Kohga), making sure his body was ready. Sooga followed suit, before nodding. He was ready.

"You recall the rules."

"No weapons, no yiga special techniques. Just our body's strength, and our wits. And of course, mask stays on. On our Master's mark, if he may grace us."

Kohga loved this part, they could tell. He was about to start, when Von joined him, clearly excited.

"Aye my BOYS! Master Kohga, I can watch right?"

"Long as you don't interfere again."

"Oh. Right. Sorry. Shutting up right after this-good luck guys!"

He gave them a thumbs up, and Cil rolled his eyes. Ugh. Ever supportive, Von was. Kohga helped himself to a drink, before sitting up in his chair.

"On three. One. Two. Three!"

Cil was so motivated by the idea of getting his prize, he leapt for it first, bringing his fist down right into Sooga’s chest. Sooga got pushed back a bit, but didn't hesitate to grab Cil's arm, yanking him into a nasty headbutt. It was a cheap move, unlike him honestly. It was weird, until he heard Kohga holler behind them. It was a show for their master, not effiencity. Oh the cheek. He felt himself snarl at such a cheap trick.

"Oh you kiss ass!"

"You're just upset that he prefers looking at me."

Cil grit his teeth, before he dove for him in essentially a tackle. These little sprawling sessions were really just 'beat the shit out of someone until they're either unresponsive, or quit'. So tackling, although it was a bit barbaric, was pretty acceptable. Given how loud Von swore, it was quite a spectacle as well. He kept himself on top of him, starting to bring his fists down onto him. He aimed for his chest, his shoulders, even his head. Sooga kept trying to block, and Cil was happy he did.

"That's it, give me more of you to hurt!"

He wanted to bruise him. Wanted to walk away from this in absolute shame. Like a wounded street dog. He clasped his hands together, about to bring the combined force of his fists, when he was suddenly forced onto his back. Sooga had damn strong legs, and he often used them to his advantage.

"Your fury shall be the end of you, Cil."

He grabbed him by his head, about to slam it onto the floor, when he was interrupted by a very loud, VERY annoying Von.

"COME O N CIL, YOU GOT THIS BUDDY!"

It was annoying, and just the distraction he needed. He brought his fist up to his stomach, giving him just enough time to squirm out of his grasp. He managed to get Sooga’s head in his arms, in a headlock if you will. Sooga squirmed so adorably, he could pop his head like a cherry.

"That's it. Thrash. I'll crush your head like a fucking egg. I could watch the blood trickle down your ears as I make your brain mush. Or you could give up, and I could claim my prize. The one I d-"

He didn't get to finish. See, there was an issue with Von being both of their friends. He never picked a side, and always wanted things to be even. So, of course, it was his turn to help Sooga.

"SOOGA PULL HIS HAIR."

"NO WAIT-"

Too late. Sooga had reached up, dug his fingers into his hair, and pulled. It undid all the hard work it took to get it looking so pretty, and it made Cil moan. Loudly. He had just pulled it so hard, his blood was already pumping- it just happened. The cheers from everyone watching suddenly became a confused silence, and Cil hated that when he looked down, Sooga was obviously very uncomfortable. Cil let go of him, and turned to look at Von. Good. He knew he was in more shit than a horse stable.

He walked away, grabbing his blade on the way out. A foot soldier, their little referee, cocked his head to the side.

"Is this a forfeit?"

"...yes. Unfortunately, I yield."

He tucked his sword away, and as he walked out of the arena, and grabbed Von by his shoulder. Once they were out of the ring, and into Cil's room, Von FINALLY started to panic, hands up in defense.

"Cil don't be mad I didn't think you were gonna-"

"You made him ruin my hair. You made him humiliate me in public,"

Cil stepped towards him, slowly, and Von stepped back, clearly trying to get away from him. He made it a good distance away, before his back was against a wall. Cil put his hand up, keeping Von trapped. He wasn't going anywhere, they both knew it.

"You made everyone realize WE do things together. You made me come off as some sort of whore. You not only brought shame to me and me and our Master, but you made me LOSE. I deserved that prize. But thanks to you, I lost. LOOK AT ME."

Cil grabbed him by his throat, and listening to his choked up words of protest were music to his ears.

"I'm going to make you regret having a voice. I'm going to hurt you. I'm going to use you until I decide I'm not fucking mad at you anymore."

He threw Von onto his bed, crawled on top of him, and just when he was about to peel those clothes off, Von coiled some of his hair in his hand, and pulled. Like a a horse, he turned docile under his hand, suddenly not feeling so angry. Von laughed, pushing their masks aside, just enough to reveal their mouths. Never enough for their faces.

"Aye...so angry and so bitter, buddy. Easy does it. I know how you get when you don't get what you want. Come here. I'll give you a kiss."

Was it Kohga? Absolutely not. But after getting all riled up from a fight, he'd take it. He pressed his lips against his, swearing under his breath. Him and and Von have had a few...choice encounters, so this wasn't new. But Cil still hated it. There was still that shame, that bitter taste of defeat, not getting who he wanted. And Von knew it. It was silent, yet obvious. Yet, Von acted as if that awkwardness didn't exist. Cil sighed. He was still angry, but his cock was taking away some of that stress.

"You're a pest. And I'm still angry."

"You're always angry. Now come on, clothes off."

He waited till Von let go of his hair, before he sat up, removing everything but his mask. Von gave a loud, headache inducing whistle.

"Dunno why you had to strip, you could've just flexed this off, god damn."

Cil was about to insult him for such mindless flattery, when Von held his cock in his fingers. He toyed with the tip with his thumb, watching as Cil melted on top of him. Cil huffed in his face, annoyed still.

"You shouldn't make me feel good. But you know what I need."

"I've known a few cocks, my guy, they more or less need the same thing. But yours is the cutest!"

"Not this again..."

Cil smacked his mask with his hand, groaning. Von laughed, clearly finding it funny.

"I'm sorry but it's such a cute lil cock! It's like a wittle itty bitty carrot! You know how sometimes it doesn't grow right but you love it anyway because its special?"

"I'm going to kill you. I'm going to hang your corpse on-"

He was silenced when Von scooted down, and put his cock past his lips. He stiffened up for a minute, before relaxing, digging his fingers through Von's mop of hair.

"Ugh. So messy. Your stupid hair. You should let me fix it properly. If I have to hold it while I use your mouth, it should at least not look sloppy."

"Aw, is that a date?"

Von looked up at him; kissing at his tip. Cil scoffed, pushing himself back into his mouth. Much better use of his lips than the constant smart mouth.

"It isn't. It's a standard that I want...met."

He could tell Von knew. He was already getting close. That's what fighting did to a true yiga. Made them aroused, eager for more. Von peeled away, watching as the little cock ached for more.

"Well I want MY dick to meet that ass, so on your front, princess."

"I grow weary of that nickname."

He complied however, trading Von spots. He laid on his stomach, letting Von apread his ass, and rub his thumb over his asshole.

"But you're SUCH a pillow princess! You lay there, pushing against me and waiting for me to help you cum. And you look pretty too. Nice hair, a damn nice back. You take care of yourself, I REALLY can't believe you don't get fucked more often. Think its the attitude. But I like it."

Cil grabbed onto one of the pillows, tensing once Von dragged his tongue against his asshole.

"Don't....say that while you're doing such things. It's...v...vile."

It was gross. He kissed the same lips that kissed his asshole, and he loved it. Von's tongue moved in little circles, drool cascading down and meeting his aching cock. Von chuckled, pulling away after a second.

"You just mad because it's not Kohga saying it. Ease up big guy, you're gonna get what's comin' to you."

He was about to bark at him, recalling why he was mad to begin with, when he felt goosebumps at his skin. Right. Von was...well equipped, unlike himself. It felt good grinding against him.

"Just...ugh. Be silent and put it in already."

"Such a grumpy wumpykins. Fine."

He leaned down to kiss his jaw, before he adjusted his clothes, and pressed his bare cock against his ass. Cil tried not to, but he found himself pressing against against him, body needing SOMEONE to touch him.

"You remember the rule."

"Right right, finish on the ass, not inside, and tell you so you act like you don't like it- I know I know."

Cil didn't want to admit that he wanted him to just fuck him already. But thankfully, Von let him get away with that one, and pushed his cock inside his ass. He held him still, as his size was STILL a bit much for him. He groaned as his body tried to accommodate, trying not to tear open the pillow in his hands.

"SLOWLY, you fucking moblin."

"This IS slow, you just don't get fucked enough to be used to it."

He was going to back talk further, when Von grabbed some more of his hair, giving it a gentle pull as he started to slowly roll into his ass.

"I...oooh...mmmph."

He hated the sounds he made when he felt stuffed. But it felt so...good. Von chuckled, hand roaming from his hip, up his back.

"That's it. You've got no dick, and ass is pancake flat, but when you finally get tamed...damn you sound so pretty. You like it when you get a good stretch, eh?"

"I DESERVE a cock. The fact that it's yours is unfortunate."

"Sharp tongue for a man with a thick dick in his ass. Lemme taste it."

He laid on him again, pressing his lips against his, and letting his tongue roam over his. Von knew he hated kissing so much, but this time he was grateful, as it helped keep his moans muffled, if only slightly. They sat there for a moment, sweat glistening off their bodies and swears filling the air. Then Von started to move properly. He started to buck his hips into his, balls smacking against his own as their hips bucked together.

"Shit Von...You’re throbbing inside of me. It's shameful."

"Funny way of saying you really like my dick. It's fine, I like this ass of yours. Looks good when you're taking it. Don't think I've fucked someone so big and delicate."

"I'm NOT deli-"

He was cut off when Von yanked his hair, starting to pound into his ass.

"Not delicate? Look at you fumblin' over yourself as I fuck that ass like a toy. My cute, baby dicked princess~"

He couldn’t even scold him. His vision was too hazy, his mouth was too busy biting into the pillow. It felt just. So good, letting this man use him to please his cock.

"I'm gonna fucking cum. I'm gonna bust a FAT fucking nut because of you. Come on, let's see what kinda load those little balls of yours can give me."

Cil was the first to cum, whining loudly once he finally hit that peak. He sat there in his mess of sweat and cum, before Von joined him. He pulled his pretty hair, pulling out just in time to cum on his ass, and on his back. Von still kept moving, albeit much slower, snearing his thick cream in between his cheeks. Von grumbled against his sudden mouth full of feathers.

"They're...not small."

"Size of chickaloo tree nuts. But I love 'em anyway, princess."

Von finally got off of him, laying right next to him. Cil sat there, trying to recover. He silently listened as Von lit up one of his cigarettes, helping himself to a nice smoke, blowing rings into the air. Cil inhaled, before slowly exhaling.

"Why I insist on entertaining you, I have no clue."

"Because I got a fat dick. And I'm funny as hell."

"Funny looking, you mean."

Cil didn't move as he shifted his gaze to meet his. Von grinned, taking another puff, before leaning over and smacking his ass. Least, what was supposed to be his ass.

"Ha! After all this time, my guy still got jokes! I love it! Good to see I took a...load off."

"Stop."

"Even though it was very HARD."

"VON."

Von grinned like the idiot he was. Cil hated to admit it to himself but...well. he did get the gold medal, but silver was just as good. For now.

#asks #lemon #kohga #sooga #von #cil #i stayed up so late writing this-#bitch if you dont like at least ONE thing about it #imma KERMIT

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justabunchofcrowsinatrenchcoat · 3 years

Text

It took me fifteen years, but I have finally realized the tragedy that is the treatment of Jacob Black in the Twilight Series. Hallelujah, I have seen the light. So here's a one shot of Bella making the RIGHT choice after the newborn battle in Eclipse.

Run to You

"You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know." (Haymitch, The Hunger Games)

I was exhausted. Worrying about my family and friends being hurt, or dying, trying to protect me was exhausting. Being a weak, defenseless human surrounded by supernatural creatures was exhausting. Constantly wondering when Edward would realize that I wasn't worth all of this trouble and leave (again) was exhausting. Not recognizing the person I had become; a person who was insecure and needy and selfish, was exhausting. And him. Trying to pretend that I wasn't in love with him was the most exhausting. And I didn't want to do it anymore.

I didn't get very far before driving became impossible. I just needed to make it a little bit farther, just get past the treaty line and then I could pull over to the side of the road. I could take a few minutes to pull myself together and everything would be fine. At least that's what I kept telling myself, but it was kind of hard to see how when the road was blurring in front of me. When I couldn't see anymore, I let my tires find the rough shoulder and roll slowly to a stop. My hands shook as I put my truck in park and then quickly, almost instinctively, wrapped around my stomach, as if trying to hold myself together. Well here we are again, a voice in the back of my brain said. How many times could a person's heart be ripped in half before it refused to heal? I slumped over on the seat and allowed the weakness I'd been fighting crush me. It was worse than I thought. Yes, I had been right to hide this. No one should ever see this. Also, I was pretty sure if he had, he never would have let me go.

I wasn't alone for very long - I didn't even jump when I heard the tapping on the window of the truck. I worked to see through the relentless stream of tears obscuring my vision. There was someone standing outside of the truck, peering in through the driver's side window, probably wondering what the problem was. A blurry glimpse of a bare chest and short black hair caused my heart to clench so hard I gasped before realizing that it was just Quil. He must have been on patrol with some of the other wolves and spotted my truck on the side of the road. I pulled myself up off of the seat and fought with the door handle for a second before I was able to get it open.

"Bella?" Quil asked "Are you okay?" He paused. "Right. Stupid question. Obviously you're not okay. Sorry. Um, shit. What can I do? Do you want me to take you to Jake... or some where else...?" he seemed to tack that last part on with some hesitation, but I appreciated the thought.

What did I need? There were so many ways that I could answer that question. Therapy probably. To stop hurting everyone that I cared about, absolutely. The ability to split myself into two different people, so that I could make both Edward and Jacob happy, would be helpful. But there was only one thing that truly mattered at that moment; the reason why I was here, crying on the side of the road.

"Jacob" the name coming out more like a plea than an answer to a question. And once I started I couldn't stop. The sound of "Jacob, Jacob, Jacob." joined the sounds of sobbing and shaky gasping breaths. I couldn't tell if Quil answered me or not, and after a minute of silence I wondered if he was still there. But then I felt an arm slide behind my back and a hand grip my hip before shifting me to the side so that I was sitting in the middle of the truck's seat. Quil slid behind the wheel and pulled me in to tuck against his side before pulling the truck back onto the road. Normally I would have felt at least a little embarrassed about essentially cuddling up to someone I hadn't really spent that much time with, but Quil was warm and I was so cold. I was so tired of being cold.

Jacob

I was laying in bed when I heard the knock at the front door. Well, knock probably wasn't the right word, it sounded more like someone kicking at the door in an attempt at knocking. The weird knocking wasn't the thing that I noticed the most though. Because what was really weird was that I hadn't heard a car pull up out front first, or even the sound of someone walking up the gravel drive to the front porch. Heightened hearing was one of the perks of the whole turning into a giant wolf thing, so I usually knew right away when someone came to the house. Dr. Fang must've really overdone it on the pain meds this time. He still wasn't sure about the dosage because of my higher than average metabolism and seemed to be going with the trial and error method. Although, if I had to pick, I guess a little stoned was better than being in pain. Or physical pain anyway. The drugs were doing absolutely nothing to stop the thoughts running through my head. Well, one thought, really, repeating over and over, like a broken record. Bella, Bella, Bella…

Billy must have let whoever it was in and by the time I had focused on trying to figure out who it was, my bedroom door was being pushed open. Quil stood in the doorway cradling Bella against his chest and for a second I had a flash of a memory. Bella being carried from the woods by Sam. The haunted look in her eyes. The broken sobs. This was entirely too much like that.

"Bella! What the hell happened?! Is she okay?"

"I don't know man. I was out on patrol and saw her truck on the side of the road. I asked her what was wrong but she just kept saying your name over and over, so I brought her here." Quil hesitated like he wasn't sure what he should do now. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to jump up from the bed and get her. But I was still on "bed rest" until the doc could be sure I wouldn't re injure myself. I ground my teeth together and took a deep breath, attempting to remain calm, "Well bring her here." Quil looked relieved to have some direction and he quickly laid her on the bed next to me before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

As soon as she was on the bed Bella curled into my side, still sobbing. I started to wrap my arms around her before remembering that the entire right side of my body was basically useless. I threw my head back against the mattress, cursing quietly out of frustration. Then settled for bringing my left hand up to start rubbing Bella's shoulder and back. "Shh, its okay. I'm here. What happened?" I had hoped that she'd look up, but when did Bella ever make things easy.

"Bells?" I tried again. Still nothing. This time I kept the cursing confined to inside my head. Or I tried to anyway.

"I'm losing my mind here Bells. You've just gotta talk to me. I'm suck here in this damn bed and I can barely fucking move and you're scaring me and I need to at least know if you're hurt. Did he hurt you?" I worked on trying to slow the tremors moving through my body. The doc would be pissed if I phased now and ruined all of his hard work. Plus Bella was freaking out enough and I had to keep it together for her. I still needed her to at least answer my question though, "Dammit Bella, just tell me what he did to you." Still no answer. She was trying to kill me with stress. That was it. That newborn hadn't finished the job, so she was going to do it. "Bella, I swear to god-"

Finally, she answered me, "He didn't hurt me," except that she could only get about one word out at a time, she was crying so damn hard. I waited for her to continue, to explain it so that I could understand, but she was quiet. Well, besides the crying.

"Okay, good, cause all of the broken bones might have made it difficult for me to kick his ass." I joked, hoping to make her laugh, or get angry, anything really as long as she stopped crying. But the tears kept pouring out of her eyes, soaking my shirt while she pulled in great mouthfuls air.

I sighed, "Bells?"

Bella whispered something against my chest, so quietly that I almost didn't hear her. But I was focused now and it sounded like she said, "They're leaving." It took me a minute to process what she was saying, partially because the pain killers made all of my thoughts sort of fuzzy around the edges. "They're leaving?" I repeated it back to her like a question, "Not 'We're leaving.'?" She just shook her head without picking it up.

"So, the Cullens are leaving. Edward is leaving. And you're not going with them." I said the words slowly, not to cause her pain, even though I'm sure it did, but because I had to be sure that I understood. That I wasn't missing something. That the tiny ray of hope that I felt starting to crawl out of the deep, dark corner of my mind where I had buried it wasn't just me setting myself up to get my heart broken (again). Bella sobbed even harder, her gasping breaths broken up by hiccups, as she nodded her head.

So, I guess the bastard couldn't handle the competition after all. I was surprised, I hadn't expected him to give up that easily. And there was the hope again. But I shoved it back down and tried to focus. Because Bella was still crying and making those ugly, broken sounds and it was my job to make her feel better. "Hey, shhh. It'll be okay, honey." I murmured before pressing my lips to the top of her head. My hand continued to rub up and down her arm and across her back. "I'm sorry. Was he mean to you? I didn't mean for you to have to go through that alone. I was thinking I'd be there. And I'm sorry he left you." Bella had gone still, but when she didn't say anything, I continued. "I mean, I'm not sorry that he's gone, but I'm sorry he hurt you. He's an idiot." And then Bella was crying again and I was failing miserably at the whole, making her feel better is my job, thing. "Shit, sorry honey, I guess that's not what you want to hear right now. But IT IS going to be okay." I stressed, because I needed her to believe me. "It sucks right now, but you've gotten through this before. And you don't have to do it alone. I'm gonna be with you the whole time, whatever it takes. Maybe this time won't be as bad because you kinda know what to expect. And I'll be good, I promise. No pressure. I'll be whatever you need me to be. And it'll be okay."

"Wait, stop," Bella interrupted my rambling. She took a deep breath and looked up at me, "Edward isn't leaving because he's mad at me for loving you. He's leaving because I asked him to. Because I'm in love with you." Her voice was all watery from crying and the tears never really stopped, but those words were still the most wonderful thing I'd ever heard. I couldn't have pushed back the hope now even if I wanted to (not that I did want to). Bella picked me. I hadn't realized until just then how much I had been preparing myself to lose. But she had really picked me. I wanted to kiss her and spin her around my tiny bedroom in circles and just show her how happy she made me. Except this wasn't like those stupid fairytale stories that Rebecca had always tried to read to me when we were kids. You know the ones; boy falls for girl, girl says no, boy is persistent, girl finally says yes, and they live happily ever after. Unless I missed the one where the girl was also in love with another boy at the same time and everyone involved got the hearts broken. Oh and one of the boys was a bloodsucking leech and the other turned into a giant wolf. Actually, there probably was one of those Grimm's fairytales that had something like that. But those didn't usually have happy endings.

No, this definitely was not a fairytale, because his girl was crying over another guy, which didn't seem like a great way to start a "happily ever after" even if it was her decision.

He wanted to talk to Bella about all of this. To figure out what she was thinking and where they would go from here, but Bella had gone back to crying into his chest and she had to be exhausted, so he would wait. He had promised to be good, afterall.

Bella

I don't how long I had been lying there, curled into the crook of Jake's arm, but it must have been a while, because he stirred a little and asked, "Hey honey, sorry, but it's getting late and I didn't know if there was somewhere you needed to be... or someone who was going to be looking for you..." he prompted. I managed to convey, after several attempts, that Charlie thought I was spending the night with Alice and that no one else needed to know where I was. He seemed satisfied with that answer and shifted to make himself more comfortable, while still keeping me tucked firmly against his side. I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head and say, "Then you should get some sleep."

He didn't say anything else after that. Just held me on the bed and let me ruin his shirt, staining it with salt water. Eventually, the sobs quieted, but the tears continued to flow steadily. It took longer than I thought it would for that smaller, broken part of me to cry herself out. It happened, though, and I was eventually exhausted enough to sleep. Unconsciousness did not bring full relief from the pain, just a numbing, dulling ease. It made it more bearable, but it was still there. I was aware of it, even asleep, and that helped me to make the adjustments I needed to make.

The morning brought with it, if not a brighter outlook, at least a measure of control, some acceptance. Instinctively, I knew that the new tear in my heart would always ache. That was just going to be a part of me now. Time would make it easier - that's what everyone always said. But I didn't care if time healed me or not, so long as Edward could be happy again. That's what had been missing the last time; the acceptance. It's what had kept me from moving forward. But this time would be different.

When I woke up, there was no disorientation. I opened my eyes - finally dry - and met his anxious gaze.

"Hey," I said. My voice was hoarse. I cleared my throat. He didn't answer. He watched me, waiting for it to start.

"No, I'm fine," I promised. "That won't happen again." His eyes tightened in concern.

"That's great, Bells, but what exactly was that?" He asked.

I took a deep breath, just because I was prepared for this conversation, didn't mean it wasn't going to be painful.

"The Cullens are leaving." I repeated my answer from last night to make sure he had understood what I had tried to tell him while also breaking down. I could see the question in his eyes, so I answered it. "Yes, Edward is leaving too. And no, I'm not going with them." As I spoke I saw a hundred different emotions flicker in Jacob's eyes. The one that seemed to be winning was hope, but then it was like he caught himself and a neutral expression settled over his features. I hated it, he wasn't My Jacob, when he made that face. But I also knew that in this case, I had no one to blame but myself. My hindsight had become incredibly clear. I could see every mistake I'd made, every bit of harm I'd done, the small things and the big things. Each pain I'd caused Jacob, each wound I'd given Edward, stacked up into neat piles that I could not ignore or deny.

"I'm sorry." I pushed myself up, using my arm to lean on his chest so that I could meet his eyes. "I've made a real mess of things. I know I've caused you a lot of pain. But I finally realized I was wrong all along." At that, Jacob took a startled breath and looked like he was about to say something. I placed a finger against his lips, and he stopped. "Just let me get this out. I don't want there to be any confusion." His brow furrowed a little, but he waited for me to continue.

"I was wrong about the magnets," I explained. "I used to think about you and Edward as magnets; that you two were like opposite magnetic poles. I couldn't push you together no matter how hard I tried. But it was actually the two parts of myself, your Bella and Edward's Bella, that I was trying to force together. But they could not exist together, and I never should have tried." I could see the hope starting to win out in Jacob's eyes as he said quietly, "I knew you'd figure it out eventually." And the corner of his mouth twitched. "But still, you mind telling me how you figured it out?"

"It was the kiss, before the battle," I paused and made an effort to look stern, "which I'm still mad at you for, by the way. Threatening to kill yourself to make me kiss you?" I raised an eyebrow. At least he had the decency to look ashamed.

I didn't have to work to be serious this time, "You will never do that to me again, got it?" Jacob glanced up from beneath his lashes and nodded. That's how I was sure that he knew he had messed up; that and the fact that he didn't try to argue with me at all. I continued, "But that's not the point right now. The point is, that when you kissed me, I saw the whole thing - our whole life. And I want it bad, Jake, I want it all. I want to stay right here and never move. I want to love you and make you happy."

"So what's stopping you?" he whispered.

"I still love him, Jake, and I don't think that'll ever go away. That's not fair to you. There's probably someone out there much better for you." My heart broke a little as I spoke, especially when I considered how much it would hurt now, if he did decide that I wasn't worth all of this trouble.

"No." Jacob shook his head. "I'm exactly right for you, Bella. It would be effortless for us - comfortable, easy as breathing. I'm the natural path your life would have taken...." The corner of his lips twitched, forming a small smile. "If the world was the way it was supposed to be, if there were no monsters and no magic..."

I could see what he saw, and I knew he was right. But I needed to make sure he understood fully. "He's like a drug for me, Jake. When I was with him, he was the only thing that mattered. I was ready to give up my life for him. But it's different with you." The corner of my mouth turned up in a wistful half-smile. "Like having my own personal sun. Not a drug, but air. You're healthier for me. So I'm choosing to have the life I want. I'm choosing to stay with Charlie and my mom. I'm choosing to have the chance to change and grow. I'm choosing to stay human. There's still a lot that we need to talk about and I'm going to need time. But I think you were right before when you said that if we had enough time you could help me be happy again. So I'm going to try. I'm going to try to stay here with you. If you decide you still want me, all things considered."

I only had to wait a second for his answer, and then I only had another second to appreciate the breathtaking smile that split his features, before he pulled me to him and crushed his lips to mine.

#twilight renaissance #twilight #jacob black #team jacob

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refinedbuffoonery · 3 years

Text

Late Nights

This is 2.5k words of fluff and essentially no plot. Set a week after the events of ICLU. I wrote the first part back in May right after I got the idea for ICLU and have been sitting on this ever since.

*****

When the letters and numbers on the screen finally blurred beyond recognition, Riley closed the program she’d been working on and put the lab computer to sleep. Her eyes burned. She was horribly behind on developing this program; it needed to start beta testing days ago, but the team’s back to back multi-day ops and her impromptu trip with the Coltons on her supposed day off consumed all of her time and energy this week.

Posing as a think tank, the Phoenix did have to do think tank-y things on occasion, after all, and every agent was expected to contribute to the organization’s public projects. Including a certain physically and emotionally exhausted hacker.

Mac sat across from her, fidgeting with spare robot parts. Riley checked the time. 10:58 pm. Everyone else had gone home hours ago. She vaguely recalled Bozer teasing her about not spending the night in his lab again. Pointing at Mac, he’d said, “Good thing he’s just as much of a workaholic as you are.” Riley knew Mac was just there to keep her company—and because they’d carpooled—not because he needed to keep working, but she hadn’t bothered to correct Bozer.

Groaning, Riley let her head fall into her hands. It felt like some invisible force was squeezing her skull, slowly crushing it like a grape. She needed to go to bed. Possibly forever.

“You okay?” She glimpsed Mac’s concerned frown between her fingers.

“Yeah,” she replied, dragging her hands through her hair. “I have a headache, that’s all.” Understatement of the century. “How long until you’re done?”

Mac looked unconvinced; when it came to her, he didn’t miss much. Mercifully, he didn’t push for a more elaborate answer. “Um, I need a few more minutes to finish this, plus maybe fifteen more to clean up. Bozer will kill me if I leave a giant mess in his lab.” Riley managed a small smirk. Indeed he would.

Riley figured it would be at least a half hour before he was ready to leave. Just enough time for a nap. “Take your time, Mac.” She stood, hauling her backpack onto her shoulder. “I’m going to take a nap. Come find me when you’re ready to go.” He nodded.

Sleep beckoning, Riley left the lab in search of a comfy chair.

*****

Thirty minutes later, Mac found her curled up in her favorite chair in the war room. Knees tucked into her chest, head cradled in the crook of her elbow, she looked breathtakingly peaceful.

He regretted waking her the moment he gently shook her shoulder. Riley grumbled something unintelligible that might have been his name.

“Time to go home, Riles.” Mac shouldered her backpack and helped her out of the chair.

Riley could barely open her eyes. She took one staggering step forward and nearly wiped out on the table she definitely didn’t realize was right in front of her. He knew she was exhausted—he was too—but this was alarming. She was burning herself out on the least important part of her job, and Mac didn’t understand why. A problem for tomorrow, he decided.

Mac wrapped an arm around her waist, helping keep her upright. “Thank you,” she mumbled. He pressed a quick kiss to the side of her head.

Mac’s truck sat alone in the underground lot. He was immensely grateful he and Riley had carpooled to work that day. Otherwise, if he hadn’t stayed to keep her company while she worked, she definitely would’ve spent the whole night in that war room chair.

They drove home in silence. Riley quickly fell asleep in the passenger seat, head resting on the window.

She was still out cold when he parked his truck in the driveway, and Mac couldn’t bring himself to wake her up twice in one night. He slid his arms around her back and under her knees and carried her inside, and Mac’s heart melted when she snuggled her face into his shoulder. He could hold her like this forever. “Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured.

Mac laid her on the guest bed and rested her backpack against the nightstand. He quickly unlaced her boots and pulled them off, revealing bright yellow and orange striped socks. He chuckled, imagining her muttering at him to stop laughing at her socks.

Grabbing a makeup wipe from the guest bathroom, it took him a few minutes to remove her stubborn eyeliner. No wonder, he’d seen it withstand blazing infernos, days in the woods, blood, sweat, tears, everything.

He tucked her under the covers before retrieving her favorite pajama shirt—an old t-shirt of his—and shorts. Mac left them at the foot of Riley’s bed, so she could change into them whenever she woke up.

Riley curled into a loose ball, snuggling her face deeper into her pillow, and Mac couldn’t help but worry as he closed the door halfway and retreated to his room.

*****

Riley awoke in the middle of the night to her bra’s underwire stabbing her in the chest. She blinked a few times, trying to get her bearings. She definitely wasn’t in the war room anymore.

It took longer than Riley cared to admit to realize she was back in Mac’s guest bedroom—her bedroom for the year she’d lived with him. Mac must’ve taken her home from the Phoenix.

Riley rolled onto her back, and her underwire stabbed her again. Fuck this, she thought, yanking off her tank top, then her bra, and sighing in relief as the straps fell down her shoulders. Chucking them both on the floor, she noticed the stack of clothes at the foot of her bed, blending in so well with the dark sheets Riley almost missed them. She smiled, silently thanking the man sleeping across the hall, and changed into her pajamas.

While debating whether to stay or join Mac, Riley stretched her back and hips, joints popping softly. She could be lazy and spend the rest of the night in her old room, or she could go cuddle with her boyfriend, but that would require getting up. But if she got up, she could also brush her teeth.

Had she even had dinner? Riley couldn’t remember. Her brain was still foggy.

Ultimately, her desire to sleep with Mac and brush her teeth won out, and Riley hauled herself out of bed and across the hall, feet barely lifting off the ground with each step.

Mac was a pretty light sleeper, so Riley slipped into bed beside him as quietly as she could. He stirred, but didn’t wake. Sinking into the mattress, Riley knew switching beds was the right choice. Her body relaxed more in Mac’s presence. She’d never realized how lonely exhaustion was, not until she had someone she could freely share with and who could empathize with her. Even so, she’d still lied earlier about how she really felt, mostly for the sake of her dignity. Mac was her best friend, but Riley was loath to outright admit to weakness, even to him.

She wanted to snuggle into his warmth and tuck her face between his shoulder blades, but that would surely wake him up. And waking Mac up would lead to questions she didn’t want to answer just yet. So, Riley stuck to her side of the mattress, tucked her legs into her chest, and went back to sleep.

*****

When Mac’s alarm went off, he wasn’t alone. Riley had snuck into his bed at some point and now curled into a tiny ball, facing away from him.

He wished they didn’t have to go to work today, wished they could sleep in and he could pry some answers from her. But the world wouldn’t save itself.

He texted Matty. Please don’t send us on an op someone else could do. Riley’s burning herself out, and I can’t figure out why.

I’ll keep an eye on her, Matty replied immediately.

Thank you.

Leaning over to kiss his girlfriend’s cheek, Mac got up and went for a run.

He did an easy three miles around the neighborhood, letting the cool dawn air wake him up. Mac smiled every time he passed someone else out for a run or walking their dog before the July sun made leaving the house practically unbearable.

When he returned, Mac found Riley awake and making coffee for them both. Her back was to him, so Mac scanned her body for signs of stress or injury, finding neither. “Good morning,” he said to break the silence.

Riley turned to him, bleary-eyed and still half asleep, and held out a steaming mug of coffee. Mac accepted, kissing her cheek in gratitude. It shocked him how easy it all was. She croaked, “How was your run?”

Mac couldn’t deny the way seeing Riley in his clothes affected him—the same way, he realized guiltily, the sight had always appeased some primal, possessive part of his brain, even when they were just friends—but damn it hit differently when she wore a sleepy, lovesick smile and had just crawled out of his bed. Riley had always been his girl, but now she was his girl.

The whole scene was sweet and domestic and everything he’d ever wanted.

“Good,” he finally answered. “I even stopped to say hi to our favorite dog.” An elderly couple who lived a few streets away had a mini Aussie, who was quite possibly the happiest being in the universe. She would trot alongside her humans without a leash, but when Mac or Riley appeared, she whined and whined until her owners said “Go ahead,” and she’d come barreling full-force into Mac or Riley’s chest and lavish them with endless kisses. Her name was Freya.

Riley’s eyes lit up in excitement. “My dog!” Mac chuckled, sliding onto one of the bar seats tucked below the counter.

Changing the subject, Mac tried to be nonchalant when he asked, “How do you feel this morning?” Worry crept into his voice anyway.

“Better,” Riley said, the mug hiding her face as she sipped her coffee. “Thanks for taking me home.”

Of course he took her home. Even if they weren’t dating, Mac still would’ve taken her home and given her his clothes. There was no universe in which he wouldn’t do that.

“Like I was going to let you spend the night in that chair,” he replied. Riley toyed with the hem of her shirt, her usual lively presence vanishing like a turtle retreating into its shell. Mac probed, “What’s up?” She sighed, still looking down. “Riles?”

When she finally looked up, Riley’s eyes were heavy with guilt. “Do you know how many times I almost got us killed this week?” Mac waited. “Twice. I led us—led you—right into traps I should’ve seen from a mile away. And before that, I gave you a fucking panic attack that sent you driving through the middle of nowhere to come find me!” Her voice crescendoed. “And now? Now I can’t even get that stupid program to work right! I just want to be able to do one thing right. One thing! Is that too much to ask?” Riley let out a loud, frustrated groan, shoulders caving inward.

Mac stayed in his seat, letting Riley have her space. He knew she didn’t like being coddled when she was frustrated. “I almost get us killed constantly,” he reminded her. “It’s part of our job. No one is holding it against you, especially not me. And that panic attack was the best thing to happen to me, because without it we’d still be waiting for one of us to find the courage to confess. This is going to sound hypocritical coming from me, but you can’t beat yourself up about that stuff.”

Riley snorted. “Very hypocritical.”

“You have to take the small wins as they come, okay? We’re not dead! We had sex! The important stuff!”

“I see you have your priorities together.” Her tone was snarky, but Mac caught her smile between sips of coffee.

“If we didn’t have to go to work I’d bend you over the counter and tell you how hot you look in my shirt.”

Mac impressed himself with how casually he managed to say that; he could only imagine Riley’s merciless teasing if his voice had cracked.

Riley blushed, even as she cautiously said, “We could do that anyway.”

The apprehension in her voice hit Mac like a bucket of cold water. He couldn’t just say things like that to his girlfriend of two days. Or maybe she was his best friend and he didn’t care. Mac couldn’t decide. This thing between them was so new, yet it felt like they’d been together forever. The butterflies lasted forty-eight hours, tops, before the calm sense of belonging, of home, washed over them. Mac had never had that happen so quickly in a relationship before. Usually it took weeks or even months, not two days.

“It’s not like they’re going to know,” Riley added.

That made the decision for him. “Are you kidding me? If we walk in late together, they’ll absolutely know why. They’re like professional mind readers! We’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Correction,” Riley said. “You’ll never hear the end of it. Desi and Bozer will just high five me and say, ‘Nice.’”

Mac frowned. She was right, unfortunately. He finished the rest of his coffee, grimacing at the bitter last sip. Placing his mug in the sink, Mac said, “Seriously though, I want you to feel safe sharing with me when you feel like this, Riles.” He leaned against the sink. “Let me help you.”

Riley crossed to him, finally closing the gap between them, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Okay,” she agreed, head resting on his shoulder. She sighed. “I really don’t want to go to work today, but if I get any more behind on that damn project I am going to pull my hair out.”

Mac pressed a single kiss where her neck met her shoulder. “Your hair is beautiful. Please don’t pull it out.” Gently, he unwound Riley’s scrunchie, letting her hair tumble down her back so he could play with it.

“Just for you.”

They stood like that as long as they could, before they really did need to get ready for work. “I need to shower,” Mac finally said, ruining the quiet moment. “Care to join me?”

Riley raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want to be late.”

A very serious shower,” Mac amended. “No funny business.”

“Right.” Riley kissed him until Mac couldn’t hold back his grin. “No funny business. Now where have I heard that before?”

Laughing, Mac dragged his girlfriend toward the bathroom.

#beth writes #macgyver #macriley #three updates in a week?#who am i??#i+can't+lose+you #sort of an epilogue but not really

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whirlybirdwhat · 3 years

Note

If you still do promts? How about Law getting a minor (big scare) relapse of His Amber lead problem?

I do!!!! Hope you enjoy <333

a mark of (not-quite) death

read on ao3!

Law wakes up aching.

There is a throbbing in his back, a drum of pain running up his fingers, a blurriness in the back of his head that he can’t quite name, and a weakness that shakes in his limbs as he pushes himself upward.

He doesn’t want to open his eyes. The dull light of his sub – the soft humming of the machines – it’s all already too much. He wants to go back to sleep.

Instinct tells him doing so will be his death –

Wait.

Law’s eyes flash open as his entire body starts shaking.

He hasn’t… hasn’t felt this way since he was 13 and running with Cora. He –

God.

No.

(Litanies of prayers flash through his mind, the same the nuns like to whisper over the children as they laid dying in bed. The lights of the hospital, the screams of agony, the white creeping up up up – his father shaking as he attached IV lines to his sister, the blood pooling on the streets –

No-)

It can’t be. Law got rid of it. He was the survivor. The only survivor, because of his thrice damned fruit.

His eyes look down, to where his hands are clenching the bunk he collapsed in late last night (after feeling off all day god he was a fool-), to where –

White splotches against tanned skin, spreading and rising in irregular shapes.

A relapse.

A relapse of Amber Lead Disease.

Law wants to laugh.

(Laugh, in the kind of laugh those who are about to die have. Laugh, not in the way of the indomitable D, but in the kind of way a sailor laughs in the face of a raging storm that he will not survive. Laugh, in the way that fools cry.)

Who knew it was possible?

Tears well up in his eyes as laughter chokes out past the tightening in his chest. He couldn’t die. Not yet.

Not when Doflamingo still lived.

His chest is getting tighter as he raises a shaky white splotched hand to his face, feeling the wetness there. His skin is rough, raised, god it already spread to his face?

He is going to die.

(Everything hurts.)

The world is going blurry at the edges, darkness creeping in, every limb aching and – Oh.

A sliver of thought breaks through the memories of pain and death and terror.

He needs to breathe.

Law takes a shuddering breath, pressing against his chest as if that would make his lungs work past the blinding panic in his mind.

It helps.

He takes another.

It helps more.

Another, and another, and another, until he is lying back in his too small bunk and looking up at the flickering lights.

Fuck, he thinks.

Fuck.

His eyes slip shut past the instinct ingrained in him from his days with Cora, and finally, finally, he falls back to a restless sleep.

Untellable time has passed when he finally drags himself out of bed, legs shaking beneath his weight. Kikoku is a helpful walking stick, his jeans an unhelpful hindrance, and his feet barefoot against the deck.

Bending down had hurt too much to put them on.

He makes his way, slowly, to the kitchen where most of the off-duty crew is, their chatter rising above the hum of engines and the lurching power of the sea.

Bepo –

Bepo is there.

Thank fuck.

He stumbles in and makes a bee-line towards his first mate, ignoring the cries of his crew (idiots – who told them they could care so much about him?) as he finally arrives in front of Bepo, shaking.

Bepo stares. “Captain?” His voice is soft.

Worried.

(The way it is after nightmares shake Law awake and all he can hear is the laughter of a mad tyrant echoing in his mind.)

Law stares back and carefully, carefully, slumps into Bepo’s arms.

(By the shouts of his crew, it’s not so carefully. It’s more the last legs of a starving man giving out.)

“Captain!” Bepo says, less questioning and more panicked and worried this time.

Law just shoves his face into his jacket and mumbles “I’m fine Bepo.” Half the words don’t make it out but it’s fine.

He’s fine.

Law is… Law is fine.

Shachi echoes from his right. “You don’t look fine captain.”

“Yeah!” Penguin chimes in. “You look like death warmed over.”

(He’s not fine)

Law shudders, and shakes his head. “I feel it,” He mutters, uncharacteristically open, and then moves on as Bepo lowers them bother down to the bench. “It’ll… It’ll pass. Just need to operate, that’s all.”

He can’t see it with his face shoved into Bepo’s warmth but he just knows everyone is sharing glances over his head. Especially Shachi and Penguin and Bepo. They knew him… they knew him when he just got over Amber Lead, operating out of his skin with cries of pain and little control over his devil fruit….

And little choice to not do it.

It’s always like this out at sea – out on open waters with a black flag overhead, or the intention to be one. Life or death.

Life or death.

(For so long, Law has intended to die.)

He sighs, further, as they finally sit down, the ache in his legs easing as Bepo allows him to slump into his side. A hot mug is shoved into his hands and lifted to his lips, shakily.

Coffee.

Sweet, just how he secretly likes it. Ikkaku then, the only person who knows how to get it just right, helping him drink.

(His eyes feel so heavy.)

There’s murmuring around him. Law closes it out, to focus on how the jumpsuit is soft on his raised and rash-ridden skin.

Someone moves Kikoku away from him, and he doesn’t move an inch. The worried voices pick up again.

Soon, someone shakes him.

“Captain.”

He’s so tired.

“Captain.”

This is, essentially, the second worst thing that could possibly happen to him. The first being Doflamingo dies before Law can spit in his face and say Fuck You.

“Captain!”

He should have just operated in his room. Why didn’t he do that?

“Law!”

Oh.

He’s a captain now.

That’s him.

He pushes himself off Bepo, and blinks wearily at his crew.

“Yeah – Yes?” He tries to pour irritation into his voice, but honestly – they are a crew, no matter how often he holds them at arms lengths. They know he’s not as prickly as he seems. They have seen him half drowned, drunk out of his mind, and on fifteen to many cups of Shachi’s special coffee.

They can see him sick.

(He’s so tired.)

Penguin peers into his face, his hat tipped up so that he can meet Law’s eyes clearly with his own. “What operation?”

The words come out of him slurred and tired.

“Amber Lead,” He says, and doesn’t miss how Clione in the corner takes a step back. “It’s… not contagious…” He slumps further into Bepo. “That was all a government ruse.”

Most of them are from the North Blue. Most of them have heard the stories – of Flevance, and how it burned to the ground, how its people were exterminated, how its people were contagious and it was good for the world that their disease wasn’t spread.

Most of his crew, however, don’t know that he’s the last survivor.

A hand drifts over his cheek, tapping gently on the raised, white skin, and Law is drawn back into reality.

“’M from Flevance. Last survivor. My fruit… my fruit cured me. Had to operate.” He says, dimly remembering it. “Now its back. Gotta….” His mother would be ashamed of how his voice was drooping. Slurring. There was a patient he had to tend to. Wait. He was the patient. He was so tired and even the coffee wasn’t helping. “Operate again.”

Dimly, he remembers how he wasn’t allowed to see the adults who had Amber Lead. They were always worse off than the children once the disease reached its peak. The body, too old to defend itself. The mind, old enough to understand eminent death. To understand that you were leaving everyone behind, because of an unavoidable fate, because you were born of Flevance and its greed.

Now, Law is aching as he did when he was a child in the last stages of the disease, and he feels… distant and all too close to the fact all at once. He’s tired, but he has survived this before.

Before, he was alone.

Now, he has a crew.

(And a dream, as horrible and revenge driven as it is, to kill the one who took everything else from him.)

A crew that is slowly pulling him out of his despair and into open arms.

Bepo is muttering with Shachi and Penguin, something about how did it set in so fast? And Island conditions? And large concentrations of ore and ocean depths and battles? But all of it is fading distantly.

A hand taps his cheek and pulls the cup from his hands. He tries to follow it, but he is quickly trapped by a large, fluffy orange arm.

“Sleep, Captain.” That’s Clione, stepping closer now. “You can operate when you’re coherent.”

He wants to snap at them, snap at all of them, that he’s a man and doesn’t need to be babied, he’s done this before and he’ll do it again, and he’s a trained doctor –

(Who trained all of them-)

-so he can decide when he needs to sleep but –

Bepo’s arm is soft. Comforting. Familiar.

(He tried to find Cora’s coat after he was killed. He couldn’t. He missed the warmth of smoky black faux feathers. He had no comfort then, when he was digging into his skin with shaky powers and a stolen knife.)

Law falls to sleep, surrounded by crew, and hopes he’ll wake to see morning light.

There is none when he wakes. Instead, there is a heavy pressure on his right, crushing him, almost gently, against a large, soft, bodily shaped lump.

For a moment, with the shaking in his limbs, Law thinks he is in Flevance again, hiding amongst the bodies of his dead neighbors and friends to get a chance at life.

His heart races, before Bepo lets out a familiar snore and Shachi slaps at his cheeks.

Ah.

He’s not in Flevance.

He’s home.

(Usually, he would correct himself and say The Polar Tang. Not today. Today he is tired.)

He looks across the room. They are still in the kitchen, the crew merely moving around him instead of moving him, the idiots. The lights are dimmed, and it seems to be only Bepo and Shachi in the room. A blanket is pulled around him, and his sword leaned against the wall.

He gives a sigh. Someone had even grabbed his hat for him.

(He wants his hat. His father had given it to him. He wants his hat.)

His eyes drift, still tired, but the aching in his limbs has abated for now. It’s time to move, before he’s lost again in pain and memories.

Law pushes at Bepo and Shachi, shoving both off of him in a spur of strength, before standing up.

“Captain!” Bepo cries happily, undeterred from his harsh wake up. On the ground, Shachi rubs his head but doesn’t complain. “You’re awake! Is your head better? Is your body better? Are you okay? Do you need water? Food? Wait maybe don’t’- “

The world spins as Law stands up, but he still manages to grit out a “Bepo!” that shuts the bear up quick. He feels bad for it, but at least the questions are stopped.

“Help me to the operating room.”

Shachi gives him a look even as Law refuses to wait for them to help him across the room to grab his sword. “Are you sure you’re ready to operate?”

Law gives him a look as he grips Kikoku, Bepo helping up his other arm. “If I don’t operate now, I won’t be able to later. If I don’t operate later, I’m going to fucking die.” The clarity in this threat and his voice seems to stir Shachi into opening the doors for them to go through, Law’s feet getting heavier with every step.

“Amber Lead, huh?” Shachi questions quietly.

Law lets out a breath. “Yeah.”

“That’s what you were recovering from when we first met, right? With the white splotches?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re back now.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought they were gone forever.”

Law sighs again. “Me too,” he says, and that’s the end of the conversation. It’s silent then, as they pad through the ship to the operating room. The rest of the crew must know by now, because they don’t question it when Law limps quietly throughout the sub. They only nod, and give him worried looks.

His crew is a crew of fools.

(He wouldn’t trade them for the world.)

The operating room is already open when Law arrives.

(He can barely stand. His legs ache. He bets if he rolled up his pants, his legs would be near entirely white, the disease setting in quick. He hates this. He hates this.)

“Captain!” Penguin cheers from the corner where he is cleaning Law’s favorite sets of scalpels and has a chair set up. “Everything’s ready for when you need it! Didn’t know what exactly you needed, so I got everything that seemed reasonable.”

A part of Law softens at that, though his face hurts to twitch into smile. “Thank you, Peng,” He says, quiet, and with Bepo’s help eases himself into a chair. He sighs and gestures for the tray scalpels Penguin rolls over.

He’s practiced this kind of removal before, on albeit unwilling patients. They were thankful after, but never quite liked it when Law opened them up.

They felt no pain, thanks to the Ope-Ope fruits natural anesthetics, but removing things buried into your skin by what appears to be magical scalpels is never fun.

(It was funny to Law. He was always sadistic like that.)

He picks up a scalpel, gestures for his crew to back away, and then says, very carefully, “Room.”

His crew stares, but then the pieces come together when his eyes lock on Bepo and he says “Shambles.”

In an instant, his head is switched with the air above Bepo’s palms.

Bepo screams, only a bit, but it gives Law the perspective he needs to make this surgery.

His body is trembling before him, Law already feeling the strain from using his devil fruit. Splotches run up his arms from where his sleeves are rolled up, the hoodie dipping just a bit to reveal the splotches on his neck as well. When Law glances into the mirror on the tray, he pauses, for just a moment.

The spots make him seem… hollow. As if he were only a frame of the person he wanted to be. They fill his cheeks and nose, distorting over his forehead, like a skeleton made of flesh and empty spaces.

He looks tired.

(He always looks tired.)

He looks like death.

(A part of him laughs at that. The Surgeon of Death, looking like death warmed over? Irony at its finest.)

He blinks his eyes closed and opens them quickly. If he doesn’t act soon, he’ll be death.

He watches his arms lift in front of him, and mutters “Scan.”

His body lights up in shades of vibrant blue, making his spots glow where they are raised above the skin. Law looks closer, his fingers twirling in the air, till it is as if he can see the innermost parts of his body.

There.

The core of all his trouble, nestled right next to his lungs. A part of the Amber Lead he missed when he didn’t know that Scan was an ability he had with his fruit. A part that grew and grew and grew, and seemed to have been suddenly exacerbated by the climate of the Grand Line.

The only surprising part is that it took till now for it happen.

“Peng. Shach.” He says, straining, speaking odd when your mouth is in one area of the room and your voice box in another. “Get the infectious substance containers.”

Penguin looks alarmed. “Thought you said it wasn’t contagious?”

“Yes.” He responds. “It isn’t. But it is toxic, and this is the closest containment system we have. Get it.”

Penguin gives a snappy salute, and then he and Shachi are running out the door, leaving Bepo and Law’s disembodied head, and his body in the room.

Law sighs, neck leaning back so his head rests on Bepo’s chest. To Bepo’s merit, he only shifts his hold on Law.

A moment, and Bepo shifts his grip again so that one paw is patting Law’s head. IF his body were not so weak he would have strangled Bepo.

(It feels nice. He won’t let him know that.)

“Bepo.” He growls.

“Sorry!” Bepo yelps, but doesn’t stop dragging his fingers through Law’s hair, gentle and calm.

Law doesn’t scold him again, and instead fights the urge to sink into sleep by examining his body further.

His chest tightens when he realizes how much it had spread – all because Law didn’t bother to check up his body earlier. God.

He would have died if he didn’t have his fruit.

If Cora hadn’t…

The operating room door slamming open distracts him from his thoughts.

“We got it!” Shachi and Penguin cheer, rolling over two large glass and plastic and metal containers.

(Law new the destructions of diseases. He filched the best containment for his own ship.

Like hell he would let Flevance happen again.)

Law nods the best he can without a body, and across the room, his body raises its arms.

“Scan,” He says, one more time to be sure. When it all lights up again, he closes his eyes and breathes out.

One second.

Two.

He breathes in, and opens his eyes.

“Room,” He says, and the operating room becomes his. His eyes flash to the air inside the empty cases and –

“Shambles.”

The blue disappears from his eyes, from his body, from his face, the aches disappearing, in a snap from his skin, and into the containers already sealed shut. His fingers twitch, another muttered Shambles, and his head is securely on his body.

The world blurs in front of him.

Fuck.

He’s so tired.

So, so tired.

He lays back, melting against the chair, and doesn’t protest as Bepo lifts him up.

“You’re alright captain. You’re alright.”

As his hat is placed on his head, white splotches slowly fading from his hands in itchy waves, he honestly thinks he might be.

His eyes shut and to worried murmurs, he falls unconscious, operation over.

(His parents would be ashamed of how he didn’t check to make sure the patient was recovering right.

Wait.

He’s the patient.

Fuck.)

Law wakes without aching, without wanting to laugh, Bepo wrapped around him again and his favorite food on a tray beside him. When he looks in the mirror, only two splotches of white remain near his eyes, fading as he watches. Someone has washed his hair and scrubbed the other flakes of white on cheeks away with tender care, and a blanket is wrapped carefully around him. This time, Law doesn’t panic. This time, Law goes to goes back to sleep on purpose, smile gracing his features.

His crew is a crew of fools but fuck, if Law doesn’t love them. They keep him alive.

Law won’t die now.

Not yet.

And not from his past.

#whirlyanswers #Anonymous #trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law #law #corazon #donquixote rocinante #rocinante #bepo #shachi #penguin one piece #op #one piece #whirlywrites #whirlywhat #opfic #sickfic #uhhh enjoy!!!!#disappears again

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typinggently · 3 years

Note

I have never watched that show. How much background info I should look up to enjoy your Sam x Dean fiction?

Dearest, that’s so sweet ahhh 🥺🥺 Honestly, I’m so honoured that you’re willing to dive into unknown waters for me 🌹🌹🌹 I wrote up a short introduction! ✨

The basics are as follows: Sam and Dean are the sons of John and Mary Winchester, with Dean being 4 years older. After Mary’s supernatural death when Dean is 5, John sweeps his children into his car and leaves the burning corpse of their normal life behind, with a sweltering pain inside of him. Driven by fear for his sons and the burning need for revenge, John raises his sons as hunters and in motel rooms. There is, and that is crucial, no resemblance of a normal life for any of them after Mary’s death.

If we’re speaking in very basic terms, Dean is the daredevil womanising Marlboro Man, complete with muscle car and leather jacket, and Sam is the more soft-spoken smart one who eats salad and has glossy-soft hair. (However, of course, Dean is fiercely family-oriented, protective, good with children. Sam started out with a rebellious streak and is still capable of great violence when he doesn’t keep himself in check. Also Dean’s the type to gaze dreamily into his girl’s eyes and hold her hand as she rides him and Sam’s one night stands are mostly of the ‘rip off your shirt and hit it from behind’ kind.)

~🖤~

Considering there are 15 seasons to choose from, people have (naturally) picked up certain elements that they find most enjoyable. There’s a good deal of people who watch it as a (romantic) comedy.

I personally enjoy the American gothic horror, the way those two are entangled beyond comprehension and, at times, indistinguishable from the monsters they hunt. Even if my fics have different topics or are lighthearted and honey-dripping, the base note is always this: their relationship, due to nature and nurture, is incredibly obsessive. Their world has been reduced to the two of them in the confines of the car or the ever-changing motel rooms, ever since they were little. Dean’s purpose in life was to protect and care for Sam, Sam’s purpose in life was to let that happen. There’s some resentment in that, sometimes you can feel them rebelling against this tangled, claustrophobic mess, but even if they fight and snarl and break up, they always return to one another and heal those cuts in their bond, which, in essence, only means that they settle back into their entangled, Janus-like double soul.

~🖤~

I’ll give you a brief summary of the first five seasons (the core of the show, at least to me), just to illustrate my point. Despite all else that happens, I think that is the foundation of the show, and thus, probably all you need to know to understand what I have in mind while I write.

🔥.1.🔥

The story begins with Sam at college, trying to establish a life away from the road and, in essence, Dean. That attempt of normality burns on the ceiling in the person of his girlfriend Jessica, repeat performance of when his mother’s body lit up his room 21 years ago. Dean picks him up and he goes back to the car, to the life he tried to leave behind, and, essentially, to Dean. They follow a trail of breadcrumbs and coordinates John leaves them to eventually get back to him. They find John, find the demon that killed Mary, and, as the turn of a new chapter is right at their fingertips, get bulldozed by a truck.

🪦.2.🪦

Season two has Dean dying. John can’t let that happen, so he finds the demon responsible for taking everything (his wife, his life, his son) from him to trade his own soul and the only thing that could kill said demon for Dean. John dies, Dean lives, and has to live with that guilt. Just like John, he turns to hunt down the demon responsible for taking everything (his mother, his life, his father). Sam starts having visions, a power grows inside of him that he can’t begin to understand and is incredibly frightened by. The demon sweeps in to steal him away, and Dean comes just in time to catch Sam, powerful and dying, in his arms. Just like John, Dean goes to trade his life. He’s promised one year on Earth, eternity in hell after. Reunited, revived, they find the demon responsible for taking everything and with the help of their father’s soul, kill him. John goes to heaven, Sam goes on living, Dean knows he’s going to hell.

⏳.3.⏳

In season three, Sam lives and has to live with what Dean did. He desperately tries to find a cure, a solution, anything. He finds Ruby, instead, a demon who promises him all three. It doesn’t work, the overly-powerful demon Lilith who was promised Dean after one year, comes and gets him. Sam watches helplessly as Dean is torn apart, then holds him, warm but cooling, in his arms.

🩸.4.🩸

Season four finds Dean finding himself breathing underground. He digs himself out of his own grave and finds Sam and has to find out that Ruby found him first. It’s now that we learn who found Dean and raised him out of hell: Castiel, unkillable, unfathomable, unbelievable. Dean, who never believed in God, now has to learn that there’s a biblical plan laid out for Sam and him. Meanwhile, Castiel, who always believed and is starting to doubt, tries to find God, who’s responsible for it all, but vanished. Meanwhile, Sam is drawn closer and closer to Ruby, by Ruby. While Castiel raised Dean out of hell, Ruby found Sam on Earth and wrapped herself around him, offering a shoulder to cry on and a wrist to drink from. Sam, who wasn’t strong enough to save Dean, quickly gets addicted to demon blood, which makes him stronger than humanely possible — and, in Dean’s eyes, less human. He falls for Ruby and falls for her scheme, which leads to him breaking the seal that kept Lucifer contained, starting what will lead to the end of everything. Ruby’s life ends with Sam’s arms wrapped around her, holding her still as Dean sinks her own knife into her.

⌛️.5.⌛️

Season five leads to the end of the world, with Heaven and Hell trying to convince Sam and Dean to follow the plan written for them: Sam is destined to be Lucifer’s vessel, give over his body to him, while Dean is meant to do the same for Michael. They are meant to fight and kill each other, and thus decide the fate of everything, heaven, hell and earth. They refuse. Dean refuses to let Michael enter and use him, forcing heaven to manipulate their half-brother Adam to step into his big brother’s shoes. Sam invites Lucifer in, but refuses to do as he’s told and breaks the Devil’s hold over him to sacrifice himself and Adam and save everything. It ends with Sam, Adam, Michael and Lucifer trapped for eternity in the cage Sam broke the seal of, and Dean, on Earth. Alone.

(Not quite, of course. Following Sam’s wish, he finds a life for himself, a woman and a child that isn’t his but close enough that Dean can pretend. Outside, in the dark, Sam watches.)

~🖤~

Voilà, that’s it. Sam and Dean kill and die for each other, sell their souls and humanity to save one another or repent for the fact that they couldn’t. There are many, many other stories interwoven there, for example the story of the amulet Sam was meant to gift their father when he was little, for protection. When John doesn’t show up to receive the gift, he gives it to Dean. For decades, the amulet is kept right against his heart, until it stops beating and Sam takes it off, to keep it warm and safe against his own chest. When Dean returns from hell, Sam, who was never able to believe that Dean was really gone, gives it back. Its journey ends where it began, in a motel room with Sam and Dean, when Dean, who finds his faith and hope to save them and the Earth crushed, takes it off and throws it away.

(And a quick look at s6: Dean has the orange juice for breakfast, scent of freshly cut grass life Sam wanted for him for one year, until Sam comes to collect him again. After spending an eternity in the cage with Lucifer (and Adam and Michael, who presumably sat in their corner and made out while Sam was being skinned like Marsyas), Sam was lifted out (by Castiel), but lost his soul and the memories of his torment in the process. What does it mean for one to lose one’s soul, what happens to that person? Sam stops sleeping, he stops caring what other people think, he stops caring for other people in general. He’s an incredibly efficient hunter and spends most of his (limitless, sleepless) time hunting, exercising, or having sex. Despite this empty, cold shell his brother has been reduced to, Dean drops his life of dinner at eight and slow morning sex to join Sam, and gets broken up with over the phone for being too attached to Sam.)

~🖤~

This got quite long after all, but I hope this got the idea across! Those two are very fascinating characters and I love them dearly. Twisted little clowns.

#this got long even though I tried to be brief u.u #clown boys #wincest

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capsiclecevans · 4 years

Text

“i need a place to stay”

Warnings: mentions of cheating. Summary: Chris has always been your best friend, your shoulder to cry on, could he be something more when you finally find out that your boyfriend has been cheating on you with one of his work colleagues? Chris is your first point of call when your world implodes and you need somewhere to stay. Word Count: 2k Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader\

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Your day had been going great. You had a very productive day at work, you met with the girls and had a lovely dinner and was currently on the way back to yours and your boyfriend’s shared apartment to spend the rest of the evening together curled up on the couch watching a film. You hummed along to the radio as you drove, smiling to yourself as the song reminded you of your best friend, Chris. You had been friends ever since you were both young, since you were in his brother’s class and he was part of the package deal when it came to befriending Scott, but eventually it was you and Chris that became closer.

Even when Chris became Captain America, everyone’s favourite superhero, he stayed loyal to you and was still just Chris to you. You knew him better than anyone else in the world. You had known him before his life became so crazy and you knew that he was grateful that he had that relationship with you still. Whenever he was anxious about anything, you were still the one he would text or call, because no matter what, you both knew that you would alway answer him in his time of need. That’s what friends were for.

You smiled to yourself when you see your boyfriend’s car parked in his parking spot outside your apartment building, parking your car next to his gently. He was home and hopefully he had picked a film for you both to watch.

You both had been a little distant with each other recently, he had been busy at work, as had you and Chris was back in town so you had been spending a fair bit of time with him since you hadn’t seen him in so long. It was like you were reuniting with family you hadn’t seen in years. It had only been 6 months or so, since Chris had been filming Infinity War and Endgame back to back so he had been in Atlanta and had obviously taken Dodger with him.

You make your way up to your apartment slowly, humming the rest of the song from the radio to yourself as you take the steps as quickly as you can before unlocking your front door.

You frown when you don’t see your boyfriend in the front room or attached kitchen, setting your work bag on the couch slowly, looking round the room a little confused before walking to your shared bedroom to see if he was in there.

What happened next was a blur, seeing him on top of someone from his workplace, both naked. In your bed. A screaming match took place with you throwing essentials into a small suitcase and bag so you can get out of there quickly, you could come back for everything else when he is at work and you had calmed down. You storming out as quickly as you could, your now ex-boyfriend trying to follow you quickly as he pulled some clothes back on as he tried to explain what was happening. You cried as you drove away, only one place in mind that you know you could stay, even though you were scared to tell them what has happened.

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After driving round town for a few hours, trying to gain sense of what had happened back at your apartment. Trying to get the image out of your head as you drive to Chris’ house, you needed face him sooner or later, especially since you hadn’t replied to his texts since you left work, which would make him worry. You always replied to him within 20 minutes of him texting you. It has been over 3 hours since you last texted him.

As you arrive at Chris’ and look up at his house, you bite your lip nervous, tears welling up in your eyes again as you begin to regret your decision to come here instead of driving straight to your parent’s house. That was over a 45 minute drive away now and it was getting late, you didn’t have the energy to make that drive, not tonight, you might make that drive tomorrow if you couldn’t face Chris in the morning. You begin to imagine the look that Chris’ face will hold when he answers the door to you at almost 10pm, worry and confusion will be the top two emotions for sure.

You only knock twice before Chris is nearly pulling the door off its hinges to see if it is you. He sighs a little in relief seeing that it is you and that you are at least safe, but then he frowns when he sees the tears in your eyes and the tear stains that are on your cheeks.

“I-I need a place to stay…” You say nervously, before Chris could even ask if you were okay, or what was going on. Dodger was whining a little at Chris’ feet, trying to get passed him to see you, greet you happily as he always did as he loved you almost as much as he loved Chris and his stuffed lion. Chris doesn’t hesitate to nod quickly, opening the door wider for you to step inside. He takes your suitcase and handbag from you gently, biting his lip and taking them up to the guest room with no questions, catching on that you probably need a few moments alone to greet Dodger before you have him asking what happened and why you need a place to stay.

You slowly remove your coat and shoes before following Dodger through to the couch, biting your lip as you make yourself comfortable. Chris had always said that you were welcome here whenever you needed a friend and to never feel uncomfortable when you were here, at his house. Dodger curls up with you gently on the couch as you tuck your legs underneath you, finally wiping the tear stains off of your cheeks. As you do this, you glance round the room, the TV was on with a basketball game playing, and Chris had a bottle of beer open on the coffee table. His phone was next to the bottle of beer, unlocked with your contact open, like he was going to try and reach you again before you knocked on his door.

“Hey…” Chris says softly as he walks in, sitting down next to you slowly, not wanting to startle you in anyway as he could tell you were lost in your thoughts. “What’s happened?” He asks softly.

“He has been cheating on me…” You say and look up at Chris, just by admitting that your ex-boyfriend is a scumbag brought tears to your eyes. Four years down the drain because he couldn’t stay loyal and keep it in his pants.

“What…” Chris says in shock, before he could register that he should feel angry for you, but you needed him to be calm now, you needed your friend. He couldn’t believe it, you and your boyfriend seemed happy, that you were solid and he thought that soon enough you would have an engagement ring on your left hand soon enough. Not that he wasn’t sad about that, he was more relieved as even though you were happy, Chris was not. He was completely in love with you, he had wanted to tell you before he started filming for The Winter Soldier, at his birthday party, but you had brought your boyfriend as a date. This had shocked Chris as you never mentioned to him that you were dating someone, now four years later you were finally done with the scumbag.

“I don’t know how long for, but I walked in on him and her, in my own bed…” You explain, tearing up gently, looking at your hands gently.

Chris frowns and wraps his arms round you tightly, kissing your head to calm you down slowly. “It’s going to be okay…you can stay here for as long as you need too…” He whispers into your hair, letting you cry against his chest. He rubbed your back comfortingly, knowing that you just needed to be held right now. Dodger came and sat in front of you both, waiting patiently while his tail wagged behind him a little, head tilted to the side before he eventually went and laid in is bed with his stuffed lion.

“Are you sure?” You ask and looks up at Chris gently. He responds with a soft smile and a nod, you don’t push any further because he was the one you knew you could always count on.

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You slowly walk back down the stairs to the couch after Chris had told you to have a relaxing shower and get into comfortable clothes, not caring how late it was or if you both stayed up all night. You needed him so he would be there. He was in the kitchen, making you both a hot chocolate, his beer thrown away from the spot it was sitting when you first arrived at his house.

You sit back down on the couch and Dodger joins you this time, his head resting on your lap in a comforting way, you smile a little before scratching behind his ears, just the way he likes it.

“Now I could get used to this view…” Chris says as he walks through with two large mugs of hot chocolate, setting them on the coffee table as you feel your cheeks blush lightly. Chris was such a sweet guy and before you had gotten together with your boyfriend you always had a crush on him. You never acted on it though, you didn’t think he would have wanted to have you in the spotlight, you were his little secret that he was able to keep from the press and his fans. You were like a comfort blanket for him when he needed you.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me staying with you?” You ask and looks up from Dodger to Chris gently, a small smile on your face as you do.

“Dodge and I will not mind one bit…plus I kinda uh…” He starts to say as he sits down before shaking his head gently. “Never mind, now isn’t the best time to tell you this, don’t worry…” He says before sitting back against the cushions, sighing before rubbing his face lightly.

“Tell me what?” You ask, fully turning yourself to look at the man child you knew so well, but right now he looked scared, fragile.

“That, I am happy you left him, because you can now be with me…” He says in an outburst before looking down at the floor, sighing to himself and rubbing his face gently. “I have been in love with you before I became Captain America, before filming for Winter Soldier started but I didn’t get my chance because you had fallen for someone else and you were happy…” Chris says, his voice soft and gentle before he looks at you nervously, he had just poured out his heart to you on the same day you had broken up with your boyfriend of 4 years.

“Y-you’re in love with me?” You ask a little shocked before taking a deep breath, a wide smile coming onto your face before you blush and look down. “It’s a good thing that I have been feeling the same way recently then, isn’t it?” You say before reaching over and stroking his cheek. You are pulled into his lap as he gives you a bone crushing hug, your lips eventually finding each others happily. You finally felt loved again, as you hadn’t felt this love and warmth from your ex-boyfriend for a few months, which could possibly be because he was giving all his love to the girl he was cheating on you with. Now though, you are living every one of Chris’ female fan’s dreams by kissing him and being the one he has fallen in love with.

“Its a good thing that I came here first for a place to stay then…” You whisper when you pull away from the kiss slowly, a cheeky smile playing at your lips. Your comment makes Chris laugh as he cuddles you closer, pressing a kiss to your head before you both settle down to watch a film together before heading up to bed.

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