#i feel so shitty and i'm going out for breakfast with a friend tomorrow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

osleeplessflowero · 8 months

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Part 2 to Scares And A Sudden Friendship! - Reader goes by They/Them as always. - Bravery soul! 🧡 - Content Warning: Swearing - Horror goes by Sans because this is a Horrortale exclusive timeline. - Recommended to have context from the previous oneshot for this one! - posting while it's raining..hopefully it goes through-

You enter your apartment, tossing your costume aside the moment you enter your room and changing into some comfy pajamas. Looking through some albums, you put one of your favorite CDs into a small radio and let the music play in the background.

..You're not happy. But you also had a lot of fun with..what was his name again?

You hold up your phone, looking at the newly added contact.

'sans' is what it reads. Right, "Sans". Sans the skeleton. The skeleton who helped you scare the shit out of your shitty boyfriend..priceless.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a reply from your soon-to-be-ex. With a deep breath, you look at his message.

[him] (what do u wanna talk abt)>

[you] (you)>

[him] (tf did i do)>

There's a long conversation between you..his messages making you angrier and angrier until you abruptly break up with him, blocking him immediately after.

You don't realize you're crying until you see your teardrops hit the phone, hurriedly wiping them off to avoid possible water damage. You glare at your ex's name. FUCK him. And all of his friends he'd rather spend time with.

You let out a sigh. This might be the worst Halloween you've ever had..

You hear a ding from your phone, looking back down to see a new message, tapping it.

[sans] (heya)> (get home safe?)>

You can't help but smile a little, leaning back and replying.

[you] (yup)> (just dumped him, feelin like shit)>

[sans] (well we all gotta feel like shit at some point)> (its a part of life)>

[you] (thats true)

He sends you some random memes he had saved in his phone from someone he knows, letting you get some laughs.

[you] (so are we still up for getting coffee tomorrow??)>

[sans] (yeah if you wanna)>

[you] (hell yeah i wanna)> (this'll be fun)> (i wanna know more about you mr. skeleton)>

[sans] (mr. skeleton? cmon you can make a better nickname than that)>

[you] (gotta get to know you better first!)>

[sans] (fair enough)> (it's pretty lafe you should be going to sleep rn)> (*late)> (big hands)>

You let out a snicker.

[you] (yeah but i don't really wanna sleep)>

[sans] (if you sleep now you can wake up on time to go get coffee tomorrow)>

[you] (hmmm)> (fair enough- wait what time should we go? and the place??)>

[sans] (i usually wake up late so how does 12 sound? we can just go to that little coffee shop around the corner from the haunted house)>

[you] (perfect i'll see you then :])>

You pass out cold the moment your head hits your pillow, exhausted from the night's events.

Morning soon arrives, the sun rising as you do. You bury your face in your pillow before your alarm abruptly goes off, forgetting why you set it and frowning. ..Before you suddenly remember, jumping up in a tired daze. You rub the sleepiness away from your eyes with your hands, standing up and going to make some of your favorite breakfast.

Your morning routine goes as it usually does, you then approach your closet to figure out just what to wear. It should be something casual, yet warm..you look through your selection, picking out something that feels perfect, looking in a mirror and making sure nothing is out of place.

TIme to go! You rush outside, grabbing your bag on the way out and holding up your phone.

[you] (omw!)>

[sans] ( 👍)>

A cold breeze blows through the air, moving your clothes a little with it. You come to a stop as you reach the coffee shop, looking around for a particular skeleton and running up to him with a wave.

"Hey, there you are! Sorry if I'm late." You smile sheepishly, resting your arms at your sides. The skeleton simply sends a smile your way, shoving his hands in his now clean jacket's pockets.

"nah, you're early. i just got here myself." He shrugs a little.

"Sweet, looks like we're right on time then, huh?" You smile, holding open the door for him. He promptly replies with a "thanks", before walking in and holding the door so it doesn't shut on you.

You both walk over to one of the booths in the back at Sans' suggestion, sitting by the window across from one another. The sounds of cups clinking and very few people talking fills the air, a comforting sound. You can faintly smell the coffee beans in the back, taking a deep breath to take in the scent.

Sans taps his fingers against the table in a rhythmic pattern, his bright red eyelight turning from you, to the window, then back to you.

You sit your bag to your left, resting your elbows on the table and putting your head between your hands.

"So, Mr. Sans..consider this an interview of sorts."

"yikes, haven't had one of those in a hot minute." He puts his other arm's elbow on the table, resting his cheekbone in his palm to somewhat match you. "shoot."

"Alright- first off...why a haunted house?" You raises a brow, genuinely curious why he chose to work there.

"well, you tend to get used to spookin' people when you're a monster that looks like i do. so, why not take advantage of it? maybe get paid in the process. sounds pretty good to me. plus it can be pretty funny if you catch the right person off guard. just look what happened last night."

"Yeah..people shouldn't judge you based on how you look, though. At least, that's what I think."

"weren't you scared too?" He raises a browbone.

"Well, not as much as I could've been. But I've always been like that. Not a lot of things can scare me. Stumbling across you was more fun than scary. 'What will this actor do?', y'know?"

"huh..interestin'. would've assumed based on, ..well..you know. i tend to come across as big 'n scary."

"Not to me." You smile. His eyelight shrinks a little in its socket, before returning to its usual burning state as he smiles.

"Okay, your turn. You wanna ask me anything?" "why'd you end up with that scaredy cat back there? lemme know if that's too personal. i can change it." "No, it's fine," You sigh, lowering your hands so now your arms are fully on the table. "I dunno. We were fine at first, it seemed like he genuinely liked me back..but then he just grew really distant and ignored me a bunch." "well, it's a good thing you're not stickin' with somebody that's wastin' your time, huh?" "Yeah.."

A waitress walks over cheerfully, asking both of you what kind of coffee you'd like. You order your favorite, Sans shrinks down a little in his seat before replying with "black". She walks off, and he visibly relaxes.

"I'm..guessing you're not much of a people person, huh?"

"absolutely not. at least when i'm actin' i don't have to worry about talkin'. i just.. chase."

"I get that. I'm not the best with people myself. ..That's something we have in common." You smile.

"i guess it is, huh?"

A moment passes of comfortable silence between you. The waitress returns with your cups, sitting them down and waving goodbye before walking back over behind the counter.

"So..you have any family here?"

That question piques his interest, a fond smile crossing his face.

"yeah..my brother, papyrus. we're livin' together up here. he's a lot more..energetic than i am. kinda loud since his hearin's not all there. i think he'd like you."

"Really?"

"he's the kind of guy to wanna make friends with everybody, no matter who it is. he always.. sees the good in people." He looks down at the table, his smile still ever present. You can't help but smile too, about the fond way he speaks of him. They must be very close..you'd like to meet Papyrus sometime, if given the chance.

Maybe..

"You think I could meet him sometime? I-If that's too forward, I totally understand, of cour-" "..yeah. i'm sure he'd like to meet a new pal." "A..new pal?"

He nods. Your smile shifts into a grin.

"I'd absolutely like to be pals." "then i guess what's what we are, huh?" "Yeah..I like the sound of that."

The two of you finish off your drinks while you shoot more questions back and forth then exit the coffee shop, bidding each other goodbye. You can't help but feel a little pep in your step as you make your way back home, sitting on your couch and watching one of your favorite childhood movies.

#horror sans x reader #horror sans #genderless reader #continuation of the halloween oneshot #horrortale sans

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blimbosworlddd · 4 months

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Nirvana: A Rock Lee Tale (Chapter 6)

Summary: Your dating life is terrible. Your friends’ marriage is fantastic. Your career as a medic was doing great, though. But you aren’t happy. However, after one quick trip to the Mighty Rock Dojo, you stumble upon the most magnificent man you’ve ever met- the taijutsu master- Rock Lee.

Notes: slow burn fic, afab/fem/black reader.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mild to explicit sexual themes. Mentions of death, usage of petnames, cursing.

Word count: 5.1k

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It is the night you had that fabulous date with Lee. You lay in your bed, naked under the blankets while reminiscing on every second you spent with him. Heat blooms in your belly every time you think about the way he looks at you like royalty, the way he talks to you, the way he treats you like royalty. And that kiss. It plays nonstop in your head. You pull out your phone and scroll through your social media feed until Temari’s caller ID pops up on your screen. You realize you both hadn’t spoken much for a while and decide to catch up with her.

“Hey, girl. Wassup?

Temari slouches against her chair in relief at you succeeding to answer this late at night.

“Shika’s acting weird.”

“In what way?”

Your friend sighs in embarrassment, preparing herself for the admittance of her husband’s behavior. Temari never liked to admit when things in her life were going wrong. She’s well aware that it’s part of the human condition, but stability is what she’s good at. It’s her thing to keep things under her thumb and it was especially easier to keep it that way with Shika’s multifaceted security. But that security is crumbling and it takes two to make a marriage work. Temari sighs deeply when reflecting on everything her husband’s putting her through:

He hasn’t been home much, she thinks. We haven't had a proper date in weeks. At first he made up for it with life-changing sex but we don’t do that as much either. He comes home late when I’m already sleeping and leaves early before I wake up. He won’t even answer my calls when I need him to. And then he has the gall to chalk it up to the shitty economy making it hard for him to sell- I may not be an expert on real estate but selling property should never be that time consuming. Fucking poser.

You hum in thoughtful concern when she finally breaks her silence. The longer Temari explains her situation your brows slowly furrow at the realization of how much it reminds you of Shika’s behavior before he broke up with you. It feels too familiar and something nags at the back of your head for your friend’s sake.

However, Temari does not take your silence lightly and groans irritably.

“I dunno am I doing something wrong?”

“No! No, I'm just thinking,” you blurt out. “And I think this is nothing new.”

Temari side-eyes her phone inquisitively. “Enlighten me.”

“Well…” you mumble tentatively, making sure you put care into every word that comes out of your mouth. “He’s acted like this before for a multitude of reasons. I can’t give you undeniable factors but I can help you connect the dots. Shika’s always been this way, just to varying degrees depending on the situation.”

Temari looks at the time on her phone and realizes this isn’t something she wants to sleep on.

“The best thing you can do is sit him down and have a talk,” you continue. “But please don’t think this has anything to do with you. We both know you’re an amazing partner.”

“Thanks,” she breathes. “I don’t want to keep you up all night. And I miss you, are you free to come over tomorrow?”

You smile softly at her effortless affection. She makes vulnerability seem so easy to attain. “I miss you too and I’d love to see you tomorrow. Luckily I’m free that day so I’ll make sure to stop by.”

“Alright, good night and I love you.”

“Love you too!”

The next morning you make Ayesha some breakfast to prepare her for departure. As much as she’d love to wring all the details about last night out of you, an emergency meeting came up with her marketing team. After serving her food, she bids you farewell with a peck on the cheek and closes your front door behind her. After locking it, you take a shower and prepare yourself for the day. It takes a few train stops and a brief bus ride to make it to Temari’s place but it’s nothing dire.

You give the door a few quick knocks, slightly swaying the bottle of white wine in hand. You hear muffled footsteps shuffling in the distance before the door opens and you see your friend’s state; mild bags under her eyes, dirty blonde hair spiking in all directions, one of the spaghetti straps of her nightgown dangling off her shoulder with a slouch that rivals the posture of a question mark. Temari’s iconic scowl melts into a cheeky grin at the sight of you.

“You look like shit,” you snort.

Temari’s eye twitches irritably while her grin turns stale. “Fuck you,” she snarls. “Hug me.”

Your eyes soften at her demand and you steadily wrap your arms around her shoulders. She doesn’t hug back but there’s no need. You slowly tighten your hold, and the sheer warmth of you causes her to shiver like a baby deer in winter. She buries her face into the corner of your neck, and the fact that she hasn’t been held like this in a while makes her ball up her fists. Shika should be doing this for her, not you.

“Wanna watch a movie?” You coo against her unruly tresses.

“Please.”

Shrieks of joy fill the living room air as you both lounge on the couch, conversing to your hearts’ desires while ignoring the indie film that plays in the background.

“And when we kissed it was electric. I didn’t want to stop but I knew that if I didn’t -“

“Then you would’ve fucked him on the first date I know, I know.” Temari sighs affectionately at your adorably troubled state. “I knew y’all had a thing for each other but I kept it as a hunch.”

You shut your eyes and replay the hot make out session in your head, the little concert you sang in the car, the delicious food, the trading of jokes. How can a man be so sweet, bubbly and stern at the same time? That’s so hot? You groan miserably at how shortly the kiss lasted.

“I like him so so sooo much.” You whine. “ I just want him to rearrange my guts already.”

Temari rests her head on her hand, scanning something in your face. “But you’re not ready, are you?”

Your eyes crack open abruptly. She frames it more as a statement than a question, a statement that holds a lot more merit than you wish it did.

“I… I need more time.” You mumble hesitantly. “As attracted to him as I am, I feel like I need to know him more.”

“Then you do.” Temari settles with a raised brow. “If you feel like you need to then you do. And it’s okay to go slow. Going slow is sexy.”

A meek smirk creeps up your features. “I knowww, but he makes it so hard.”

“Imagine how you make him feel? Shit, I’d have to be sick with obsession if I buy you slippers to your distinct liking so that you’re comfortable when you work. You kidding?”

You lean against the couch with a content sigh. You forget just how wise and mature Temari is. She’s so truthful with everything she does, so her support always means the world to you. Your best way of showing your appreciation would be to do the same.

“Talk to me.” You give her that look where the concern in your eyes is undeniable.

Temari stared at the glass of wine in her hand, tilting it back and forth to watch the beverage sway as if the answers to all her problems swim in it.

“He’s just not the same.”

You tuck your feet beneath your thighs and continue to listen, focusing on how your friend begins to slouch again with a distant look in her gaze. Not looking at anything in particular. She takes a deep breath but it only feels shallow.

“He doesn’t act like my husband any more. Just a roommate I occasionally fuck.”

Her flat tone makes her sound bored, but you hear the hushes of dejection in every word.

“You don’t deserve that.” You whisper.

Temari hums dismissively before raising her glass to her chapped lips. After taking a swig of her drink, she rolls her eyes obnoxiously.

“He’s burying himself with work and we don’t even go on dates. And what pisses me off the most is that he won’t treat this problem seriously. Taking me for a fool is unfortunately his most effective scapegoat.”

That sounds like Shikamaru alright.

“I dunno,” she scoffs. “You think he might have a mistress or something?”

You shake your head with a sound of denunciation. “He wouldn’t do that.” Yes Shika is not above being a bad husband, but a mistress? Something in your mind makes you doubt it. He never slept with anyone while dating you, even when he showed that he didn’t want to be with you anymore. Even when his heart belonged to another woman. It reminded you of how emotionally distant he was with you throughout your evolving relationship. You were very vulnerable around him because he made it a safe space, and yet was never just as naked around you. His father always encouraged him to let his feelings flow when necessary, but after he died Shika just had this impenetrable wall surrounding him. No one truly knows what he’s thinking: people only know what he wants them to know.

You can see the despair in Temari’s directionless glare. She wears that scowl on her face when she’s in a situation that she’s silently decided she can do nothing about. And it pisses you off.

“Hey, hey,” you murmur affectionately while scooting closer to your friend.

“I know that he’s not doing enough to maintain this marriage,” you gently grab her hand and steadily place it on your lap. “But Shika is wise enough to know who his soulmate is. And even wiser to do everything in his power to make sure you stay. But you must remind him of what he could lose before he’s too late. You’re a strong woman, no?”

Temari’s gaze flickers up to your own; your eyes widen with a knowing glare. A knowledge burning bright enough to coax the hidden determination deep from her core with unwavering warmth. Temari slowly nods her head, hesitantly at first, until she lifts her chin and straightens her back. Her brows furrow with the fear of uncertainty, but she gives your hand a brief squeeze nonetheless.

“I am,” She whispers.

“So be a strong woman.”

It’s 8pm and Shika finally makes it to his home after a good few hours of drinking with his colleagues. Temari has stopped complaining about his busy schedule so he figures maybe he can sleep peacefully tonight. After locking the door from behind him he makes his way to the living room, where he sees you and his wife sharing a throw blanket together as you both slumber on the couch. He found the sight adorable, the way you both cuddle close to each other to make room under the blanket. He silently smiles to himself before tossing his suitcase on the table, abruptly waking you from your rest. Unlike Temari, you are a light sleeper.

“Had fun today?” You pry lowly, trying not to disturb your friend’s nap.

Shika takes a deep breath and an additional moment to ponder his response.“As much fun as real estate will allow me.”

You scoff with a weak sneer, caressing Temari’s hair while looking down at her relaxed state. “ You’re avoiding her. Why?”

Now it was Shika’s turn to scoff. “We've gone through worse. Where was your questioning during those times?”

“And where is your dignity during this one?”

Shika strides past you and into the kitchen, pouring himself a scotch. He takes his time, shrugging off his leather coat and hanging it in his closet room before snatching his drink and heading back into the living room. He takes a swig while staring you down.

“ Is this payback for our break up? Look, I know how I did you was pretty shitty. But don’t you think it’s about time you moved on?”

Your sneer warps into a disgusted grimace, as you search his eyes with horror at the audacity.

“I've already moved on,” you hiss quietly, eyes glossy with the thought of that tender look Lee gives you and his infectious smile. “I am happier than you could ever dream of making me. But that doesn’t mean you’re immune to criticism. My friend is hurting and you’re causing the pain. So I ask you kindly to get your shit together-“

“This is a matter solely between me and my wife, and it will be handled solely between me and my wife.” There's a finality in his tone that makes your jaw tense with frustration, but it’s a closed jaw, nonetheless.

“Then handle it you fucking pussy..”

You and Shika whip your heads in Temari’s direction, quietly processing the words that escaped her mouth. There was that dull unamusement in her tone when she spoke. And yet a subtle glint in her irises makes her look eager for something. Hungry, even. Shika remains unfazed, raising the glass to his lips to drink some more alcohol and humming delightfully at the familiar burn.

“If you had told me you were awake, I would’ve made you dinner sooner.”

“Lie to my face again,” she hisses loudly, swiftly rising from her pillow. “And I will pack my bags and never look back.”

Temari has made idle threats plenty of times throughout their relationship. But the eerie composure of her voice and the way her sharpened eyes pierce through his soul is more than enough proof that she means every single word. Temari may not have a job, but she always knows how to make money one way or another, and she never depended on Shikamaru for funds. If she truly wanted to leave, she’d do mighty fine by herself. It was one of those many traits of hers that made her husband hopelessly whipped.

Shika feels his breath hitch in his chest. “.. Yeah but then you would miss out on my infamous Kenchin soup.”

Temari sucks her teeth. It was so typical of him to act as unbothered as possible. “ Flattery won’t get you out of this,” she warned. “Now listen to y/n’s advice before you fumble the chance to change my mind.”

Shikamaru never had the best relationship with his father. Yes, there was no other man he was closest with as a child. There was no other man he could depend on as a child, but that same man had a cold heart. His love was cold enough to burn you with freezes and now the scars live with his son. His very son who never asked for help, who never cried for affection, who never begged for the validation he needed to survive woundless. His very son who never learned to love or hate a woman. His baby boy who never learned to love or hate himself.

Shika is on thin ice and he knows it. He dug a deeper hole for himself and he knows it. But one thing that he knows more than anything is that he would literally rather die than watch his woman leave. He sighs incredulously and places his glass beside his suitcase.

“Can we at least talk alone?”

“You really wanna play with me right now, of all times?”

Shika feels his underarms perspiring with sweat. “Not in the least, baby. Let’s talk.” Temari stands up from the cushions and approaches him until they are face-to-face.

“Why?” It is a simple question really. Only problem is that the simple question calls for a complicated answer.

“And don’t feed me bullshit excuses like you being ‘too busy with work’ or ‘too tired’ to spend time with your own wife.” She lists his examples of negligence with a distinct mockery of how he sounds when he talks. “Are you cheating on me?”

“No.”

“ Did you break the law? Did you kill someone?”

“…No.” he would sound damn near docile If it weren’t for the bellowing raspiness of his voice.

“Then say something, Shikamaru Nara. What the fuck is going on with you?”

Shika glanced at you sipping your wine while watching this conversation unfold. He redirects his gaze to the hallway, looming ahead of him.

“ I don’t know.”

Temari’s eyes look for any signal of deception on his aggravatingly handsome face. She could tell he wasn’t lying, and that broke something in her. All the fire she was about to spew his way was losing its fuel, and she felt it dying down into a simmering spark.

“W-What-“

“I don’t. Know.”

You ceased drinking, concern etching into your features for that was an answer you could’ve never anticipated from your former boyfriend and best friend.

“Then what are we doing?” Her voice cracks with a very small whine. A whine that only he could recognize whenever her defense was starting to crumble.

“We’re talking, remember? So that we can fix this.”

“I don’t even know what we’re fixing.” She rushes past you and Shika, her rapid padding echoes throughout the corners of the house. She yanks open the refrigerator door for a drink. Her man follows behind in casual strides, watching her slouch down as she rummages through some food. He buries his hands in his pockets to fiddle with his father‘s lighter, the only physical link to his memory. He leans forward until his mouth is right above the back of her neck.

“Yeah but we can still figure this out, no?” Temari almost shivers at the way his hot breath tickles her nape. She shuts her eyes to ground herself and snatches a water bottle from one of the containers sitting below the food.

“Use your words carefully. I’m still considering leaving you.”

“Heh. I bet you are, my love.” Temari turns around and leans against the kitchen counter, already bored with his usage of the pet name. She hastily screws open the cap and lets the chilled water pour down her throat.

“ When my father was killed, I made a vow to never let loss destroy me the way his death did.” Temari stares at him with a quiet gulp, not expecting him to openly talk about such a touchy subject.

“If I had to push people away to avoid the pain, so be it. If I had to be alone for the rest of my life, then so be it.” Shika may be an asshole, but he’s a grown man who values his timing more than winning arguments. “It was fun at first, being young and watching the consequences slip past my fingertips.”

He took a few steps closer until his face was all that his wife could pay attention to. “Now look at me: a miserable fool, already on the verge of a divorce. Dad would be so disappointed if he saw this.” Shika removes his hands from his pockets and slowly takes the bottle from her hold to place it on the counter, inwardly cheering in relief at her silent cooperation. He traps either side of her body with his arms, staring down down at her tired eyes. She could see the desperation in his furrowing brows, and the aging grief in his subtle frown. Despite how long they have been married, Temari could never get used to the way Shika dwarfs her with simple finesse.

“But you don’t make me miserable, princess, you never do. I do. And now it’s affecting you. And for that, I’m sorry. So very sorry and I’ll do better, I’ll do more. I promise.” The hushed sincerity in his tone almost makes a sob escape Temari’s trembling lips.

“I’m pregnant, Shika.” She sniffles, regrettably at the way his eyes widen.. his hands grip the edge of the counter until his knuckles go white. His mouth slowly falls open as realization takes its time to settle in..

“…Mari-“

“Hey y’all, It’s about time I go home.”

The couple snap their heads in your direction. Tears staining Temari’s rosie cheeks.

“Let me drive you,” Shika offers as he steps back from his wife to face you. “It’s the least I could do after being such a cunt.”

“I forgive you, Shika. Just take care of her already, okay?”

He gives you a nod of gratitude and makes his way to the front door. Before he escorts you out, you pull Temari in a tight hug.

“Stay,” she begs helplessly.

“You know I can’t hun,” you coo solemnly. “Call me when you’re ready. I love you.”

You release your hold with a swiftness and make your way to the exit. Before you walk past Shika, he grabs your arm to stop you. “I owe you one,” he admits ashamedly. “Name the price and I’ll make it up to you.”

You shake your head, taken aback with amusement. “Make it up to her first. Then we’ll talk.”

After Shika closes the door and locks it, Temari breaks down on her knees. Shika could cry himself at the sight, but he has a duty to fulfill. He approaches his wife and bends down, to steadily slide one arm under her thighs and the other around her back. He holds her limbs with gentle security and carries her to their master bedroom. While she lies weeping on the mattress, she hears her husband retreat into the bathroom. Faucet water streams into the tub while he opens a bag of bath salt. It takes around 20 minutes for the tub to be filled and prepped with his wife’s favorite ingredients. He approaches the foot of the bed with caution.

“I made you a bath. Can… can I take off your clothes?”

Every second that passes by is laced with a deafening silence he endures while waiting for her response.

She sniffles. “…hurry up.”

Shika exhales with relief before tenderly removing her knitted sweater. He handles her like fine China, carefully shimmying the nightgown off of her pliant body. He hooks a finger into the band of her panties and the way his nails gently drag against her skin leaves a trail of goosebumps at the sensation. Once she’s fully nude, he picks her up once more and carries her to the bubble bath.

“I gotchu sweetheart,” He whispers lightheartedly as he sinks his woman into the warm water. She sighs delightedly at the sweet aroma of the bubbles.

“Mind if I join you?” Shika offers warily.

Temari shoots him an offended glare. “ Sex is not gonna solve this, dammit.” he could hear the exhausted irritation in her voice.

“ I won’t fuck you. I just want to join.”

His wife side eyes him as if she’s tracking any signs of deception once more. But alas, there aren’t any.

“Three seconds.”

It takes less than that for her husband to process the command, his eyes widening with panic before his fingers fumble while attempting to unbutton his shirt. The pace at which he unbuckles his belt could convince anyone that his pants are on fire. Temari snickers helplessly at his idiosyncratic movements, and how he genuinely is desperate to bathe with her. She scoots up once he’s fully naked so that he can sit behind her, both legs on either side of her figure. He slouches against the curve of the tub and spreads his arms with a blissful sigh, smirking at the cute glare Temari shoots his way.

“I’ll be off work for two weeks so we can figure this out. If you don’t want the baby, I’ll pay for the abortion. If you want a divorce, I’ll sign the papers. But if you do choose to stay, if you do choose this baby…” Shika leans forward and stares into his woman’s soul. “I’ll be here every step of the way. I’m not going anywhere. You come first before everything.”

His words are crystal clear yet spoken seductively low. He’s not trying to have sex, he’s not even flirting or teasing. All Temari can do is let her eyes trickle down to the contours of his neck, to his toned stomach, his chiseled v-line and all the way down to that heavy-

Shika snaps his fingers. “Eyes up here, sexy. You understand?”

Temari flickers her gaze up to meet his own, and the way he looks at her makes her thighs clench hard. He will not fuck you, she reluctantly reminds herself. So she pushes her back against his chest and lets his groin poke at her ass.

“I hate you,” She huffs indignantly.

“Doesn’t answer my question baby.”

Temari sighs with a groan before resting the back of her head on his shoulder, her eyes shut with embarrassment.

“One last chance,” she concludes. “Fuck this up and we’re done.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You finally make it home, kicking off your sneakers and tossing your keys on a nearby table. You simply cannot stand the cold, frustratedly shrugging off the remnants of winter as you hang your coat on a racket. You sigh with a slouch, mumbling to yourself about what to make for dinner. You feel your phone vibrating in your back pocket, and once you take it out you see Lee’s caller ID on your screen. That familiar eagerness spirals down your stomach and your cheeks puff up with a smile. You take a deep breath and answer the call.

“Hey Lee! Wassup?”

Lee closes his eyes to revel in your sweet timbre.

“Good evening, beautiful. Just revising the dojo’s schedule for next week. What are you up to?”

It’s only been a day since y’all last talked and yet the bass of his voice never ceases to rumble through you. There is nothing like listening to Lee on the phone.

“Just got home from Temari’s place,” You trudge up the stairs and make your way to your room. “And now I’mma get ready for bed.”

Lee pauses his writing and side eyes his phone. “ Should I call another time?”

“No! No- I love talking to you. Hehe.” You squeeze your eyes shut at how desperate you sound, but the man on the other line couldn’t find you any more endearing.

Lee places his pencil down and relaxes into the cushion of his chair. “Me too, sweetheart.”

If he calls you one more pet name, you are going to explode. When you put him on speaker, you shrug off your day clothes and throw them in the laundry basket.

“I really enjoyed last night,” he continues. “That was the most fun I had in a long time.”

You grunt, “Is your dojo not entertaining enough for you?”

Lee smirks at your playfulness. “Aren’t you the beauty who admitted doing what she loves isn’t always fun?”

You drape an oversized T-shirt over your figure and plop yourself on the bed beside your phone. You turn off the speaker to have a more intimate experience with the conversation.

“Damn, you got me,” you drawl sarcastically.

“Mmm not yet, but I’m working on it.”

Your teeth tugs on your bottom lip at his insinuation, body already growing hot with wanton need.

“I uhm… I had a lot of fun too. It was probably the best date I’ve ever had.” You tug at the hem of your shirt regrettably, hoping that he doesn’t mistake your honesty for pandering. Lee hums gleefully at your simple charm, wondering how he bagged such a sweet thing like you. But that sound he let out almost resembled a low groan, and it threatens to go straight to your cunt.

“What was your favorite part of the date?”

While pondering on his question, you shift to lay on your side and pull the phone closer to your face, as if you were watching Lee through the screen.

“Everything, I fear. It may not be the most satisfying answer… but it’s the truth.”

Lee spreads his long legs, eyes half lidded with content. “And why is that something you fear?”

Your face tenses up at the question but you don’t cower. “… Wasn’t expecting you to be so lovely.”

“You don’t expect a lot from people?”

“No. Not from men anyway.”

Lee chuckles at your boldness, it’s a lighthearted sound that makes your heart feel a bit less heavy. “Men don’t expect much from men either.”

You grin giddily at how he treats your views with respect rather than shallow judgment. It shows his wisdom and gravitates you impossibly closer towards him.

“ Well, what was your favorite part, Lee?”

“I have my top fifty moments, but,” He inhales deeply. “I’m afraid I won’t be your favorite anymore If I tell you my number one.”

You stretch your knees with a huff, “You aren’t my favorite. You’re my only.”

Now it was Lee’s time to pause, feeling his chest cave in with a warmth he hadn’t felt in almost a decade.

You misinterpret the silence and panic. “O-Only if we keep dating, of course-”

“It was kissing you. That was my number one moment.”

The tiny hairs on your back raise with every passing second. “ Well, you’re really good at it,” you mumble meekly.

Lee snickers dotingly at your antics. “Thank you, gorgeous. I’m only a phone call away if you want my lips again.”

Lee can hear your breathing turn shallow, your voice getting weaker on the other line. He may not have been active for a minute, but he knows a woman in need when he hears one.

“…Lee-“

“ Let me ask you this.” His tone is tender yet commanding. It makes your back flex.

“Are you dating for sex?”

“…No?”

“Good. I’m dating you because I want you. And if that means getting to know how amazing you are, then I will do whatever it takes. Okay angel?”

You almost moan at his words alone. He speaks to you with an effortless sensuality that pebbles your nipples and leaves your pussy aching. A full-body throbbing that only he can satiate. You’ve never felt so wanted in your entire life.

“You’re killing me here,” your whimpering alone could make Lee die a happy man.

“Let me take you out on another date.” he balls his veiny fist with unwavering determination. “Please.”

You look over your shoulder and glance at the dresser in which your vibrator resides. This was gonna be a long night.

“I-I’d love that, Lee.”

This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.

#naruto #rock lee #black fem reader #naruto x black reader #rock lee x black reader #black reader #y/n #naruto x y/n #rock lee x y/n #slow burn romance #slow burn #black women

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mr2swap · 2 years

Text

After Christmas: 1

“Damn it, I can't take this one more day!” My father promised me that this would end today, that we would return to our original bodies, and we would never talk about everything that happened this winter vacation.

He has been putting off reversing the spell he “accidentally” cast on us so I can enjoy my youth for a couple of days. When mom left us my father looked so pathetic and sad, I thought that if I let him use my body for a day or two after Christmas it would be the most generous of me and the truth is I can fully understand why he did it ... his life is shit!

He was never able to finish high school for being an idiot, so all he could get was a 10-hour job as a low paid builder. Every day I wake up at morning, so I can start the day with 3 cups of coffee without sugar because “my” doctor told me that I had to watch my diet, some tasteless eggs and a couple of painkillers to be able to bear leaving the home without having to complain all day that I spend working under the sun.

At first, it was not so bad it was great to wake up in my father's room in his taller, stronger and older body, everything looked smaller especially my father who was now in my slim body of a 14-year-old boy, maybe it was the adrenaline rush and excitement that made me completely ignore the pain in my back and not have had a drop of coffee all day.

After confronting him and admitting that he was the cause that one day to the next he will wake up like a 48-year-old man we reached an agreement, we would return to our bodies once Christmas passed, I must admit that going out to do the shopping For Christmas dinner with my dad it was a lot of fun, we talked all day about everything I would have to do in his body, he even taught me how to drive, and he let me drink my first beer when we got home, I felt funny after empty a couple of cans, and it all seemed incredibly light especially with how big my arms are now.

But all the fun ended the next day, on Christmas Day as soon as I woke up again in this body you can understand why my father told me not to get too excited about drinking beer, I even think I was still a little drunk after drinking so much last night My head hurt like hell and the rest of my body didn't feel better, and I think for the first time I could understand why my father used to take those pills every day with his coffee.

While I was trying to go down the stairs carefully to have a lot of coffee that I now needed my father was already at the foot of the tree unwrapping the gifts that he had personally wrapped a couple of days before, when I realized what it was not I could believe it—DID YOU BUY ME A PS5?! — I quickly helped him connect it while he was just as excited as I was to play however I could see that there was only one control and after a short fight I decided I was too tired and screwed up to spend it all The day I was arguing over who would take the first turn playing and my head was killing me, I decided that I would play the next day once I returned to my young 14-year-old body.

However, the days have passed, and my father still does not break the spell, making excuses after excuses, and he doesn't even make an effort to lie to me during breakfast today. He told me, “have you started with that again? It starts to be annoying to hear you say the same thing every morning, “IT'S A SON OF A BITCH! Right now he must be on my first day of class pretending to be me and talking to my friends while I'm covered in sweat and dust, killing me at his shitty job.

I am doubting if one day I will recover my body, I have to find the spell that my father used to steal my life and be 14 years old again! … well I will do it tomorrow today Robert, a friend of my father from work invited me to drink a couple of beers on the way out of work, he said we had a lot of fun and was really pushy. I suppose there are good things about being an adult.

Hello! Happy New Year, this is the first story here on Tumblr, the second part and a short epilogue are on my patreon.

You can also join my discord server if you want to know the latest news of my stories or chat with me, Tumblr has me blocked or something and I can't receive messages, so discord is the only way to talk to me lol

#bodyswap #body switch #body swap #male body swap

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scarl3ttjpg · 1 year

Text

Back to Square One (03)

Kyle woke with a start when he felt his phone start vibrating every few seconds. He had always been a pretty light sleeper. He picked up his phone and looked at the time, surprised that it was already well past 10 am. His mom usually doesn't let him sleep this late. If she did, Ike usually came bursting into his room by now. It was weird, bit refreshing. He had never been so glad to get out of school for the summer before his brother. He scrolled through the notifications and saw the Butters had some very interesting news.

Kyle laid his head back onto his pillow again, brushing his curly hair from his face as he let out a frustrated breath. He knew it was probably unfair to hold a grudge over something he never learned the full story about. He knew that it was definitely unfair to still resent you over what happened in elementary school. He knew it was pretty shitty of him to listen to the rumors started by the person he cut off the very second he graduated. He was just... so unbelievably unsure about everything to do with you.

He missed having you as a friend, he knew that for sure. He missed how you could make him smile and laugh so easily. He just couldn't understand why you would spend so long gaining his trust just to let it spiral down the drain. Maybe his problem was simply that he didn't want to trust you again. That anything would be better than the fact that you didn't care. The nostalgia of your friendship felt like a sharp knife twisting in Kyle's gut, making him lash out at the very thought of you. You confused him, and he didn't like it.

...

I leaned my head back on the couch, closing my eyes for a moment to catch my breath and cool down. I couldn't believe that I ran into him on my first day back home. The exact person I never wanted to see again more than anybody else. The very person that destroyed my social life. Eric Fucking Cartman.

Clyde filled me in on their conversation in the car, and I was fuming by the time we got home. Honestly, I was frustrated that Dad just sat there and let him say that shit about me. But then again, he's always in another world when he scrolls through Facebook.

I opened my eyes as my phone buzzed in my pocket. I smiled as I unlocked my phone and joined the conversation.

I was excited, but I couldn't knock the feeling of dread sitting on my shoulders. I was glad to know that I practically had a bodyguard for the party, but I was nervous about seeing Butters' other friends. Particularly, Kyle and Stan. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that those two still hated me, and would not be very happy to see me there. I wasn't scared of them, no. I just didn't want to hear them remind me of every single thing that has been said about me. I sat for a moment, watching the last couple of messages come through, letting out a sigh. I suppose there's no better wat to show everyone that I'm still here than to get absolutely hammered.

...

Kyle sat at the kitchen table listening to his mom droning on and on... Something about him needing a haircut, he wasn't entirely paying attention. He ate a bit of cereal as his phone vibrated again. He groaned as he lifted the screen to read the new messages.

Great. The last person he wanted to see right now was not only back in town, but was going to Butters' party too. Kyle sighed as he set his phone down to finish his late breakfast before walking out the door.

"I'm going to Stan's today, and I'll be at Butters' place tomorrow. Bye, Mom." He walked out the door without another word. His mom was surprised by the harsh tone in Kyle's voice but didn't say much more than an 'I love you,' to him as the door shut.

prev || next

#back to square one #clyde donovan #kyle broflovski x reader #south park smau #south park x reader #south park x y/n #south park x you #y/n #kyle brovlofski

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symptoms-syndrome · 1 year

Text

Um. Not sure how to TW this? It's nothing too bad or anything but it's. IDK.

I'm feeling really shitty about something that happened this weekend.

It was my brother's birthday on Sunday. His boyfriend came from a state over for it and everything. He wanted to go clubbing on Saturday, so me, our two roommates, him, and his boyfriend got all dolled up and went out to the club.

This was a club I hadn't gone to before. It was kinda known around my circles as the normie gay bar, like where girls go for bachelorette parties and white twinks go and stuff, but like. It's his birthday so I'm not gonna question his choice or anything. I should have known it was more strict on security than the clubs I usually go to TBH. I had bought two of those tiny little bottles of alcohol because like hell am I gonna pay $20 for a G&T inside, and I've literally never had an issue with that before at the clubs I usually go to. Yes, it's against the rules, but at most they'd ask me to throw it out or something, which is no big loss because they're like a dollar fifty.

Anyway, this security person asked to check my bag and I thought I had put it off to the side where it was less visible, and again I never had a huge issue with this. But he said he couldn't let me in. Reasonable I guess, and I said I'd throw it out. He said no, I can't come in for the rest of the night. Again, I get it, but like. Still.

So me + the roommates (who also had alcohol, but hadn't had their bags checked yet) said ok, we'll go and brother + his boyfriend can have fun inside. We planned to wait like an hour and circle back to see if there was a different security guy who wouldn't remember, and I'd just drink my alcohol so I wouldn't have any contraband on me. We went around the block to some fast food place to hang out.

I sorta figured like. My brother enjoys clubbing on his own or with other friends (who were coming in an hour,) he can have fun and we can come back and join him or not. Plus his boyfriend is with him.

Except like. Apparently this wasn't the case. Apparently he had come looking for us, and we weren't there. When we went back, the same security guy was there, so one of my roommates decided to go in and find him, tell him I couldn't get in, and ask if he wanted to go to a different club or I could just go home, either was fine with me. Except she couldn't find him. Other roommate went in to help with the search. He couldn't find him either. Eventually his friends get there. No one can find him. We ask security to help. They're unhelpful. He's wearing really distinctive clothes (he was very goth, and as I said before the club is a VERY normie club) and they still refused to help. There was an hour and a half search party, he didn't answer his phone (I forgot that he had given it to me, since he didn't have pockets, and his boyfriend had given his phone to our roommate.) Eventually I see him walking past the club and almost cried because I was so relieved. Everyone gives him hugs. He gives everyone hugs. We all decide to go home because we had all been so worried. I say we can go clubbing again tomorrow.

I just feel really awful. I feel like I ruined his birthday. He wanted to go out and have fun and instead it turned into this immensely scary and stressful experience. And it feels like it's my fault. Partially because I forgot I had his phone, partially because I figured he'd be fine without me. It feels almost. IDK. Mean. To assume that he'd just have fun on his own. That he wouldn't want me to be there with him to celebrate his birthday. Devaluing myself hurt him. And that sucks. I just don't know what to do about it. Sunday we didn't go clubbing we just sort of. Stayed home. I did some small stuff, made him breakfast and the day previous I had made him monkey bread. I'm bad at gift giving but I like making people food.

I dunno. I just feel like I failed. I stopped being overprotective for one night (something I was definitely struggling with) and fucked everything up.

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timeoverload · 2 months

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I think that today was slightly better than yesterday. The day didn't start well at all. I had a bunch of stuff to do when I got there but I couldn't get my label printer working so I had to use another computer for a while and it was so inconvenient. I asked the morning team lead to help me with my printer but he was already in a bad mood so that pissed him off more. He was yelling about it and I felt bad for even asking him. He called my boss after that to see if she could fix it but she couldn't do it either. I didn't have time to deal with that any more for a while. People kept coming in to ask me sterilize things because a lot of stuff went wrong today. I didn't have time to wrap a bunch of total instruments but I didn't have a choice because they needed them for an earlier case since the rep didn't bring them in last night like they are supposed to. I was so behind all morning but it was hard for me to make myself care about it. I went to breakfast and I took a full 15 minute break because I'm tired of rushing all the time. I also needed time away from all of the chaos. Things got better as the morning went on. I had time to get caught up after lunch. I got my printer fixed before the afternoon rush and I figured it out on my own. The afternoon was pretty boring but I kept busy until it was time to leave. The time passed quickly today so I'm glad about that.

My co-worker got a tattoo at the shop on Monday because I suggested that she should go there. I told her that all of the artists there are amazing and that everyone is so welcoming and friendly. She really loves my tattoos. She was so excited about getting hers done and she has been asking me a lot of questions. I am glad she decided to come to me for advice and I think she looks up to me a lot so that makes me feel good. I'm glad that we get along well because it's hard for me to make friends. I think her tattoo looks very nice. I also noticed there were 5 flowers so I thought that was interesting. I'm pretty sure I counted correctly. I have been trying to send more business to all of you whenever someone asks me about my tattoos so I wonder if that has made a difference at all over the past couple years.

Anyway, I did buy food today even though I didn't want to. I got mashed potatoes at lunch because I was scared to eat their chicken again. They were good but I still paid almost $7 for that and a brownie. Whatever I guess. I'm just glad I ate something and it didn't make me feel bad afterward.

I had to make a couple stops after work even though I didn't want to. I made myself do it. I called my grandma when I got home because I didn't call her back on Sunday. I just wasn't feeling up to having a conversation at the time. I talked to her for an hour. She seemed to be in a good mood. It is hard for me to talk to her sometimes because she brings up my mom often. I haven't responded to my mom at all. Yesterday she sent me a bunch of messages and links to her videos. I can't watch them. She also called me a cunt so that's kind of shitty to hear from your own mom. I know she is sick but that doesn't make it any easier. I am just going to try to forget it and ignore her because that's all I can do. I think she has figured out a way to take care of herself so I'm not going to worry about that either.

I think I need to relax now because I have had a headache since I got home and it's getting worse. I hate getting headaches. I'm not sure what caused it but I want it to go away. I don't want to take medicine for it. I was hoping I would feel better if I ate something but that hasn't worked so far. I will keep drinking water. I'm probably going to get ready for bed soon and then I'm planning on sitting here in the dark because that usually helps. I really should go to bed earlier since I haven't gone to bed before 11 so far this week. I'm not sure if that is going to happen but I will try. I have a super busy day tomorrow and I'm not looking forward to it but I will try to make it a good day anyway.

I hope everyone else has a wonderful day tomorrow. :) Thank you for listening. 💖💖💖

#personal

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dontfeeltoohot · 2 years

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EDDIES BIRTHDAY WEEKEND - NOVEMBER 1ST (5.3k)

Warnings: Emeto/Vomiting, medical situations, ambulances. Also soft Eddie/Wayne family dynamic and a surprising friend. (Or maybe not so surprising, but I just really love their friendship)

I hope you guys enjoy truly sick Eddie, we have finally gotten there! And yes, I'm sorry for the cliff hanger. The next chapter will be up tomorrow! Also as a note- regular blood sugar (for anyone, not just diabetics, is 60-100! :) )

X X X

Waking up is a domino effect. At seven am, Eddie wakes, feeling like he’s been hit by a mac truck. Every inch of his body hurts, and the idea of opening his eyes makes him groan. The groan sets off his throat hurting, and the vibrations from the noise cause an itch to bloom in his stuffed head and sinuses. Moving his hand, he drowsily brings it up to his nose, rubbing at it to try and make the ticklish feeling go away. When it seems his efforts are fruitless, Eddie turns into his pillow.

“ihGKTshhuhew! hih’IKSHew! ihgTSCHEW!”

“Bless you,” a voice from behind him makes him jump, turning to see Chrissy laying next to him.

“Jesus Christ,” he croaks out, coughing into his arm. “Warn me next time.”

“I’m literally right next to you, Eddie. What more do you want?”

Unable to come up with a good comeback, the musician huffs and turns so he’s looking at the woman, brushing hair out of his face. His solar system blanket has stayed around him, and the bat plush Robin gave him is still next to his pillow. He wants to shut his eyes again but he feels kind of shaky and weak like he does when he’s having low blood sugar. Fumbling for his phone, Eddie sniffles and unlocks it, going to his app. Everything looks normal, and his BGL is 83.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Kind of shitty I guess,” Eddie shrugs, pressing the heels of his hands to his closed eyes.

The pressure against them almost feels good, and he stays like that until Chrissy touches his shoulder, then pulls his hands away. A cool, slim hand touches his cheek, palm pressing against it. The artist tries hard not to lean into the feeling, but it’s so nice that he involuntarily moves himself forward.

“You feel a little warm, bug,” Chrissy frowns, pushing his bangs out of the way before draping her palm against the skin there too.

“I’m okay, it’s just a cold, Chris,” he finally opens his eyes and smiles at her, wincing when it too hurts, like every muscle has been stretched too tight.

“Just relax for a bit okay? I don’t need to leave for another couple of hours, so I’ll make some breakfast and go to the store to pick up some medicine, okay?”

Shit. She leaves today. Eddie knew that yesterday, but apparently this damn cold is going to scramble his brain in the process. He goes to start talking, to assure he he doesn’t need anything, but before he can, the guitarist starts coughing, bringing his arm up to his mouth as quickly as he can to shield his best friend from any of the germs he’s got. Logically, it’s probably too late, after cuddling her and sharing a bed with her, but again, his head is too stuffy for his brain to work right.

“You don’t have to do that,” he rasps out, throat swollen enough that it’s minorly distorting his voice.

“I’d be the worst best friend in history to leave you alone all day with no medicine while you’re sick.”

“Barely sick,” Eddie grumbles, watching with half-lidded eyes as Chrissy stands and stretches.

“Do you have a thermometer?”

When Eddie doesn’t answer, knowing she won’t like the answer, Chrissy frowns and rolls her eyes, grumbling something about him being a clueless idiot, but he doesn’t take it to heart. Listening to the gymnastics coach move around his kitchen, he pulls the covers closer and shuts his eyes again, thinking about how nice it’s going to be when his best friend moves down to Hawkins, how they’ll be able to have fun with their respective partners and go on double dates. His body feels like it’s floating, caught halfway between reality and sleep, when she walks back in and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, wake up Eddie, have some eggs and yogurt for you. Should be pretty easy on your throat if it’s sore.”

The last thing he wants is to eat, but Eddie isn’t stupid, and he knows if he doesn’t eat he can fuck up his bodies insulin levels and land himself in the hospital. Munson’s don’t go to the hospital. Wayne’s never been since he’s known him, and the twenty nine year old has only been once thanks to a broken arm. He plans on keeping it that way. Forcing himself to sit up, Eddie’s arms feel like jello, and it takes him an embarrassingly long time to get comfortable. Accepting the cup of yogurt first, he manages three quarters of it, then shovels half of the eggs down quickly, mostly just to finish and lay back down.

“I’m going to go and get some stuff from the store. Any requests from the birthday boy?”

“Not the birthday boy anymore,” Eddie coughs into his sleeve.

“Shh, you’re still the birthday boy till I leave.”

Trying to think of anything he might need, the headache he’s got makes his right temple throb from concentration. His last sick day had been that annoying cold he’d picked up from moving, but before that, he can’t fully recall. He’d liked the tea from the coffee shop, and he’s sure Chrissy would love to see Robin.

“Honestly? Just lavender vanilla tea from Not Just Coffee,” he admits, looking up at her with big brown eyes.

“I can do that. I’m also going to grab you some medicine, I couldn’t find any when I checked earlier.”

“You were snooping?”

“For a good cause! Look…I need you to be honest, bug. Do you feel like this is just a cold? Because I’ve seen you with a cold before. You usually still get up and power through, but this is…it just seems different,” she gestures to him, and maybe she has a bit of a point.

Does this feel like just a cold? He’s a little stuffy, and his throat’s sore. But the undeniable body aches and weakness, the exhaustion and lethargy, all combined with the coldness in his body makes him feel like he’s trying to kid himself into believing this could be anything but the flu or some nasty virus. Sighing, Eddie forces his eyes back open and plays with the wing of his new bat.

“I guess maybe it’s a little different from a cold. Feel…achier? It’s more in my body, than my head, if that makes sense,” he coughs to the side and swipes a hand down his face.

“That’s what I thought. You’re never this quiet, even when you have a cold. I’ll grab you meds and a thermometer, some soup too. Steve will be here tonight right? I don’t know if I feel okay leaving you-”

“I’m not dying, Chrissy, I can still take care of myself with a little virus. I’m not that bad,” Eddie looks at her, and she at least seems to look sheepish.

“You’re right, and I’m sorry for acting like a mom,” the strawberry blonde gently rubs his shoulder. “Get some rest and I’ll be back soon, okay?”

While the woman is away, Eddie forces himself to get up and pop a new insulin pod in. Well aware it’s going to get worse before it gets better, he puts some laundry in, makes sure the few house plants he has are watered, then ends up on the couch buried under blankets. Even the small amount of activity makes him feel drained again, like a dementor has sucked the life out of him. Turning on an old episode of Parks and Rec, Eddie watches half asleep, jolting awake when his door opens and Chrissy comes in with a couple of bags.

“Oh! You’re out here,” she observes, giving him an encouraging smile. “So I got meds and stuff, and then some of the vegetable soup you like, as well as some crackers, since I know you’ll not be too hungry. How’re you feeling? Oh, here’s your tea!”

Words coming out of the woman’s mouth quickly, Eddie blinks, trying to keep up. His brain is moving at half speed, and eventually he shrugs, brushing hair out of his face. He takes the tea and holds it.

“Not awful, not great. Just like I’m a little sick, and you’re fussing too much.”

“I’m your best friend, I have rights to fuss,” she gives him a ‘try me’ look, setting the bags down on his table, taking things out.

“I can help,” he starts to force himself off of the couch but the petite girl swivels around and glares at him.

“Lay your ass back down, Eddie. I’ve got it. Just…rest.”

Doing as he’s told, the tattoo artist shuts his eyes and listens as she puts things away, imagining where she’s putting it from the sounds, knowing he’ll probably need to go and fix them once she’s gone. There’s plastic packaging being wrestled with, and as much as he wants to open his eyes and help her, he can’t find the energy. Half a minute later, he can hear her footsteps and feel her presence. Barely opening his eyes, he gazes up at Chrissy, squinting.

“What’s up buttercup?”

“Have a thermometer for you. Keep it under your tongue and don’t take it out until it beeps.”

“Yes mom,” Eddie rolls his eyes and takes the instrument, sliding it under his tongue once it’s on, eyes falling back closed.

As he waits, he gets deja vu of lying with Wayne on the couch when he was sick as a teenager, waiting for the thermometer to go off while he tried his hardest to seem better than he was for the man. He’d been so determined to be ok, not wanting to worry him, but it had gone down the drain when his uncle had looked at the thermometer and whistled, giving him a sympathetic look. Something in Eddie’s chest aches, not just from illness, and he half entertains the idea of calling Wayne to come over.

The shrill ‘beep beep beep’ of the thermometer makes him take it out and open his eyes again, and damn he’s getting tired of doing that. The little screen flashes red, though the numbers read 100.5. Certainly not cause for concern, at least in his book. It’s not even a technical fever, he’s pretty sure 100.7 is what doctors go by. Maybe.

“Not awful, but let’s get some Tylenol in you to try and bring it down,” Chrissy frets, brushing his bangs from his eyes.

“S’not even a fever,” he grumbles, trying to save some of his pride.

“100.4 is what doctors use,” she points out knowingly.

So close.

“Ugh, fine. If it’ll make you feel better, then fine,” he whines dramatically, trying to assure her he’s not dying.

She takes the thermometer back into the kitchen and rinses it, then grabs him two tylenol and a glass of water, making her way back. Eddie watches her and downs the pills silently, wondering how long she has before she leaves. She’ll probably go by the coffee shop and say goodbye to Robin and Steve, and of course she’ll make a big deal over him being sick, even though it’s not warranted. His throat feels like it’s being sliced with glass as he swallows again, sighing.

“When’re you leaving, Chris?”

“About an hour. I wish I could stay longer, but the girl who’s keeping Holiday has to leave and-”

“It’s okay Chrissy, you don’t have to explain why. Besides, soon you’ll be back for good, and it’ll be the best thing ever,” Eddie smiles widely, reaching out to bump her arm playfully.

They sit on the couch, his head in her lap while she absentmindedly plays with his hair, being gentle enough it doesn’t pull on his scalp and aggravate his already aching head. When Chrissy sighs and finally pats his shoulder, he knows it’s his queue to get up and see her out. It’s easier said than done now that his body is shaky and heavy. He ignores her squeaks of protest not to get up, instead leaning down and giving her a tight hug.

“Thank you for coming, and thank you for taking care of me. Thanks for putting up with my bitchy emotional ass earlier, too. Once you live here I can come annoy you all the fuckin’ time. It’s going to be great.”

Laughing, she grabs her stuff, glaring at him when he tries to take her small suitcase.

“Eddie Munson, don’t you dare. I am more than capable of getting it, and you’re sick. You’re not walking me down in the cold. Just stay and relax okay? I can’t wait to be back either. Text me when you eat, or I’ll call you every ten minutes until you do,” she eyes him knowingly.

“You’re lucky I’m sleepy enough to not argue with you. I know you’re way more than capable, haven’t ever doubted that a second in my life. I’ll see you soon, ok? Love you.”

“Love you too. Take care of yourself and let Steve dote on you.”

When she’s gone, Eddie deflates like a life sized balloon, wilting against the wall. He’s so tired, overly so if he’s honest, which is making him also feel restless and uncomfortable. Or maybe that’s the fever and pain that the Tylenol isn’t seeming to do much for. Rubbing his eyes, the long haired man sits back on the couch and stares blankly into space, head hurting too much to focus on the television, body aching too much to move to his bed.

Minutes pass, though Eddie’s too zoned out to notice. His mind plays static and white noise until his nose starts itching, demanding his attention, alerting him it’s been too long since he’s tended to it. Swiping it against his wrist does nothing, so he takes the cuff of his sweatshirt and rubs it a little harder against his slick nostrils, the rough fabric helping slightly but not enough to get the feeling to completely go away. It’s his least favorite part about being sick ironically, the need to sneeze without it coming to fruition. Using the tips of his fingers, just barely peeking out from the sleeves, he rubs at the tip of his nose, then the bridge, the itch growing. Another quick rub to the very tip of his nose finally sends him over the edge.

“hihGkTSHHew! ihKkTCHhEW! iihGkhSHHuhew! Jesus Christ,” the words come out croaky and muffled from his swollen throat, sneezes scraping against it.

Snagging a tissue from the dwindling box on the table next to the couch, he blows his nose quietly, coughing when it’s productive and the air catches in his throat. When he finishes, still just as stuffy as before with congestion like concrete permeating his entire head, Eddie stands to throw the tissue away and wash his hands. The movement has his head swimming again, like it’s heavy and is ready to bring him down, but the twenty nine year old pushes through, his movements slower than usual. The cold water hurts his skin if that’s even possible, so he leans his weight against the kitchen counter and waits for it to warm, a shiver running down his spine. His hands stay under the water longer than necessary, soaking in the heat.

For the second time recently, he finds himself wanting a companion to cuddle with him when his boyfriend isn’t around. A cat really does sound nice, a little black one that’ll curl up in his lap and purr when he scratches its chin. Pushing his thoughts down, the clock catches his eye.

12:49. When did it get so late? Turning the sink off and drying his hands, the guitarist snags up his tea, blanket and even goes to his pantry, grabbing a small, all natural peanut butter squeeze packet. It’s the easiest way to get Chrissy to relax, knowing she’ll be calling soon. The man is aware it’s probably not what she’s had in mind, especially since there’s soup in the fridge, but the idea of standing long enough to heat it up and put it in a bowl makes his sore body protest even more.

Sure enough, just after he’s gotten himself tucked back in bed, the TV playing Buzzfeed Unsolved quietly, his phone buzzes. ‘Chrissy 👑 Cunningham’. He’d wanted to put ‘the queen’ but had been too worried about emergency situations and someone else needing to contact her from his phone, so the crown had to suffice. Swiping right with his thumb, Eddie answers.

“Hey.” His distorted voice makes him grimace.

“Hey E. You already know what I’m going to ask,” her voice comes through the speaker and he nods, almost forgetting she can’t see him.

“Mm, got some peanut butter, opening it right now,” he holds the little tube to the mic and opens it for proof. “Hear?”

It’s silent for a moment, and then-

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re eating, how’s your blood sugar?”

Eddie hasn’t thought to check it, though he’s not going to tell her that. He doesn’t need to give her anything else to worry about. Tapping through to his app, he’s silently grateful it’s fine.

“71. Perfectly fine,” he assures, coughing quietly away from the phone. “How’s the drive?”

“Easy. Almost home. Going to stop for snacks and to call Robs,” she sighs after, and Eddie can’t help but laugh at how much she sounds like a teenager with their crush.

“You two are gross,” he grumbles back, coughing again.

“I’ll let you go, you sound awful. Just take it easy okay?”

“I will. Don’t feel like running a marathon, trust me. Text me when you get home, blondie.”

When they hang up, Eddie groans and sips his now cold tea, too tired to really care about the weak taste. He doesn’t realize he’s falling asleep until his cup is falling, splashing the drink all over his chest and lap, some on the covers as well. Cussing, the guitarist fumbles off the bed, trying to get his bearings so he can get his life in order. Everytime he dozes off it’s like he wakes up feeling worse, which he’s already tired of. Peeling his wet shirt off and shimmying out of his sweatpants, he drops them in the hamper and shivers, wishing Chrissy was still here to help. He needs to get his sheets off, put them in the washing machine, which oh fuck he needs to also put the shit in the washing machine in the dryer, and he needs to remake his bed just so he can lay down.

Groaning and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, Eddie gets to work. Switching out the laundry isn’t too rough, though his arms that already feel like jello aren’t too appreciative. It’s when he gets to re-making his bed that it becomes apparent just how sick he is. Attempting to pull the corners of the sheets and tuck them in makes every muscle in his body simultaneously tense up and turn to mush at the same time. By the time the sheets are tucked and his blankets and quilt are back on top, all he wants to do is fall into a coma and sleep for years.

Crawling under the blankets, Eddie shivers and coughs, making his entire body tremble. His nose is running but he doesn’t have the energy to do much besides wipe it on his sleeve, even though it means he’ll need to wash his sweatshirt soon too. Head throbbing, pulsing in his temple and behind his neck, he lays there, too tired to let sleep overtake him.

Nearing four, his phone rings. He’s ready to silence it, but Steve’s face appears, which is odd considering he’s at work. Sniffling and rubbing his face, he hopes to god he doesn’t sound awful as he unlocks his phone and clicks answer.

“Hello?” Ok, definitely sounds bad, but maybe he can salvage it. He clears his throat away from the mic. “Sorry, hey Stevie.”

“Hey Eds. How’re you feeling?“

“Not too bad,” the older man fibs, eyes already drooping again.

“I’m glad baby. Hopefully you’ll feel better tomorrow. I wish I could be there,” the man sounds so sad Eddie wishes he could wrap him up and hug him.

“You only got, what, three hours?”

“That’s what I’m calling about. You know Dustin, he hurt his ankle pretty badly, and Mike, Lucas and Will are all out of town for the weekend with Will’s brother. He doesn’t really have many other people to help, so I told him I could come sit with him while he gets it checked out and help get him back to his place and stuff.”

Steve’s talking a mile a minute, obviously anxious for the guy that’s like a brother to him. Eddie shakes his head, forgetting his boyfriend can’t see him.

“Stevie, hey, baby, it’s okay. Really. Dustin needs you. You’re always with me, to be with him and help,” he assures, turning to coughs.

“But you’re sick-“

“And I’m taking medicine. I’m ok. It’s a cold, princess. Dustin’s injured. I’m practically begging here Harrington, go help poor Dustybuns,” Eddie rubs his face.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, please go see him. It’ll help you not be so nervous too.You can call or text me whenever you want.”

Even through the phone, Eddie can practically see Steve relax. He knows exactly what he looks like right now, puffing out a breath, shoulders relaxing, eyes not so wide.

“Thank you. Seriously baby. I can send something to you to eat if you want.”

“Nah, Chris got me soup. Save your money and get you and Henderson something yummy tonight.”

“Thanks Ed’s. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thanks. Tell Henderson if he has to get a cast to get black and I’ll draw on it with a silver sharpie.”

Steve laughs and they say goodbye. Eddie leans back against his pillows and groans, realizing now that he’s truly going to be alone all night, which, if he’s honest, isn’t really the best thing. Sure he’s able to get up and pee, but he’s not in the mood to make food or even walk to the kitchen for meds that Chrissy put on the counter. Coughing again, the artist brings the blankets right around him, shivering as his muscles protest the contractions his skin is giving.

Around seven, Eddie wakes up again, but this time he’s woken up to pee. The second he really wakes up, he wishes he hadn’t. Everything hurts. The expression ‘hit by a truck’ doesn’t begin to cover it anymore. His throat’s still raw, his head is still stuffy, he feels weak and chilled to his core. Something new, the man notices, is the intense nausea that’s sitting uncomfortably in his stomach. Swallowing, he sits up after a few pathetic attempts, coughing into his arm. It hurts his throat and makes his stomach feel worse. The twenty nine year old feels like Bambi as he gets up from the bed, weak and dizzy. He makes it to the bathroom and pees, then flushes and washes his hands.

As he turns to go back to bed, the motion sets everything into motion. His brain acts before he can think, and moments later his knees are hitting tile, and he’s in front of the toilet coughing and gagging. His nose and throat are burning as he gets sick, and the whimpers that escape his mouth ring out and fade into silence. His body is shaking now, half hot and half freezing. His cheeks feel like they’re burning from the inside out, like someone’s just lit a fire against them.

Eddie sits there for half an hour, alternating between gagging, getting sick, and trying his hardest to stop, refusing to let tears fall even though it feels like he's dying. He’s never felt this sick, that’s for sure. It’s kind of freaking him out how quickly he’s feeling worse and worse. His phone is in the other room, and the idea of moving sounds like actual torture. When he stops, another twenty minutes of nervous slow movement, the tattoo artist gets up and brushes his teeth, being careful not to trigger his gag reflex.

Eyes barely open, he keeps a hand on his wall, leaning against it as he slowly, carefully makes his way back to bed. His throat feels like it’s eating itself, between the swollen tonsils and the acid from being sick. Sniffling, he gets back to bed and merely leans against it, even moving to get on it tiring. When he’s laying back down, he barely has time to think about the idea of calling someone, because when the musician's head hits his pillow and the blankets start warming his chilled body, he’s out like a light.

His dreams are as if he’s tripping on acid, which he hasn’t done since his second round of senior year at some party with Greg Lannister. He’s half lucid, and it’s as if he’s gone to hell, if hell was neon and looked like it was melting. He watches himself run everywhere, looking for a way out, but it’s no use. Steve, Chrissy and Robin look down on him from what seems like Heaven, following his every movement.

He wakes up screaming. It’s hoarse and more of a strangulated noise, but it feels like it’s a scream to him. The screaming turns into coughing, and though he gags, he has nothing left but bile in his stomach. A noise is beeping but it’s far off, making him barely aware. Eddie wonders if he’s still dreaming, because he feels like he’s burning and it’s making him disoriented, not sure what time it is or what’s really going on. The room is dark. He knows something is really, really wrong, even dizzy and sick and miserable. He shouldn’t feel like this with even the flu.

Feeling around, Eddie finds his phone with his arm and picks it up, grimacing at how hard that amount of movement is. There’s a moment where he can’t think of his passcode, but then his thumb moves from muscle memory, and it unlocks. Thank fucking god. From there, he fumbles with buttons, but eventually hits the phone, and then the first contact under favorites.

XXX

Wayne’s asleep on the bed in the back room when his phone starts ringing. The second time it goes off, the man, who’d woken up on the first time though but wanted to ignore it, sighs, then snatches it off of his bedside table.

Eddie Munson

Something in Wayne’s gut turns and his body fills with ice. Eddie doesn’t call at…11:54 at night. Hell, he barely calls at all, usually one for texting so that he doesn’t interrupt whatever Wayne has going on. So the fact his kid is calling this late, and not once but twice? Every one of these thoughts goes through his head in three seconds flat while he unlocks his phone.

“Kid? You alright?”

“Uncle Wayne?”

The second he here’s the boys voice, Wayne is up and grabbing the first shirt he can find. Eddie sounds awful, like his voice has gone through a blender, but he also sounds out of it. It makes Wayne think back to the first time Eddie had come home high as a kite off pills he’d bought from a kid a grade above him.

“Hey kiddo, what’s going on?” He keeps his voice as neutral as possible, not wanting to scare him.

“I…s-somethin’s’wrong…I feel s-sick…been sick t’day…got worse…”

A cough comes through from the other side of the phone as he throws on jeans, the kind that sounds like it hurts, like it’s forcing its way out whether you want to let it or not. Wayne snags his baseball cap and pulls it on his head, grabs his keys, and is out the door without a second thought, jogging to his truck.

“Yeah? You been throwin’ up?“

Wayne still knows everything there is to know about diabetes, even if Eddie hasn’t lived with him for almost ten years. He still knows it’s bad when diabetics get sick, and even worse if they’re sick and then throw up. When the kid doesn’t answer, he tries again.

“Eddie! Buddy, come on. You thrown up?”

“Y-yeah, thin’so? I feel bad, uncle Wayne…thin’somethin’ bads’appenin.”

If he breaks twenty laws, he doesn’t give a shit. It’s midnight in Hawkins, no one is around anyway. What’s usually a ten minute drive turns into five, and Wayne uses the time to try and collect any info he can. Eddie’s been sick. He’s running a fever. He’s thrown up.

“Can you check your pump for me?”

“M’what?”

“Your..Christ, kid, your pump. It’s attached to you.”

There’s silence and then Eddie makes all noise.

“S’beepin…”

Fuck.

“Okay, can you read me what it says, Eds?”

Another groan, more coughing.

“Eddie! What does the pump say?”

“I….Mm…c’ntrol IQ…high’lert…”

“I’m at the door buddy, I’ll-“

Wayne trails off when he makes his way into the apartment, slamming the door behind him. He almost trips trying to get to the last door down the hallway. When he walks through, the older man winces. His nephew is sprawled on the bed, coughing. His hair is a mess, he’s almost translucent, lips a sickly pale. The thing he notices most is just how red the kids cheeks are, and how his head is lolling to the side, eyes barely open. Beeping rings out, and Wayne looks at Eddie’s screen on his pump. 672. Jesus H Christ.

“Eddie! Hey kiddo, hey, I’m here, it’s gonna be ok,” he lays a rough hand on Eddie’s cheek, frowning and cussing at how unnaturally hot it is.

“Uncle Way’e?”

“Yeah, hey Eddie, I got you.” He rubs his back while dialing not 911, but a number he knows will get an ambulance here faster. Hopper works Tuesday nights.

“Hello?”

“Jim, it’s Wayne Munson. I need an ambulance at the apartments off Main as soon as possible, Eddie’s sick, his diabe-“

“Already on it,” there’s muffled words and beeps, and Wayne swears not fifteen seconds after he’s tried to explain, Hoppers back on.

“Ok, I got them coming. Can you give me an apartment number?“

“306. Type one diabetic, been sick for about twenty four hours. Thrown up, sugar level is 672,” Wayne’s voice shakes, and he can feel his eyes burn as Eddie coughs against him.

“Jesus…ok, give them a minute and a half. He’ll be ok. I’ll be there too, I’ll take you to the hospital,” the gruff voice says, and a siren blares from somewhere in the background.

Hanging up, he presses a hand to Eddie’s forehead, making the younger man whimper. Looking around, he notices an empty paper cup on his night stand, but not much else seems out of place. The kid shivers and then there’s a loud knock on the door. Quickly, faster than he’s been in a while, he goes back to the front of the apartment and lets the two paramedics in, directing them down to the hall.

Hopper gets there a minute later, while they’re getting Eddie on the stretcher, the woman on the boys right already starting an IV, doing it in his hand. Wayne remembers being told that’s the easiest vein to get to if someone is dehydrated. The man is attaching something to Eddie’s pump site.

“What’s his name?” The woman asks, and she can’t be more than Eddie’s age.

“Eddie Munson,” Wayne says, feeling far away from the chaos.

He answers as many questions as he can in the span of two minutes. When they start getting ready to leave, Eddie barely conscious, Wayne notices the small little bat on his bed. He’s never seen it before, but something tells him to grab it, along with the kids phone, before he’s following Hopper, the paramedics and Eddie down, hands trembling the whole way. The police chief drives almost faster than the damn ambulance itself, which Wayne’s thankful for, Eddie’s phone in his pocket and the little bat held in his hands.

“He’s gonna be okay Wayne. He’s been through too much shit to let an illness take him down like this.”

“I sure hope so. God knows I can’t lose him too.”

#my fic #ytau #em #st #sh

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sahhr-studiesmed · 3 months

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JOURNAL ENTRY - 20 June, 2023

In ten days I have my send ups that will be starting. Basically they are exams. The entire next two months are just exams.

These days I write my journal entry out and don't post it because I couldn't. There is so much to say but I'm having trouble saying just about anything but there is so much to say I want to say but it's as if my words have been locked away and someone took the key away. I've been struggling with that for a week now. Nothing was helping and all I did was doom scrolling as the worst case of executive dysfunction and task paralysis took over me. The kind where you keep telling yourself to get up but your body won't get up so now you are screaming in your head and your body still won't move because moving feels that hard.

Knowing that you need to be doing something else but aren't doing it even though you want to do it. It's the worst feeling ever and this feeling persists very strongly.

I am a bit of the opposite of other people or am I completely misidentifying my feelings. I cannot say. when everyone seems to be bothered and working hard— even those that never did before. I'm not worried about myself at all— as my worry isn't translating into any action at all. Rather I feel these specs of harsh anxiety and they go away just as suddenly as they appear. Perhaps because I know there is not much I can do at this point. Other than doing as best as I can.

Back when I was preparing for NEET ( the qualifying exam for being a doctor in my country ), at one point I stopped caring if I would make it or not. My point is that all I did was do as much as I could and left the rest to God. I did as much as I could by fighting for as long as I could- till the end. What happened after the end was what the god wanted for me. It's not always easy to accept things so I pray. I pray that things go my way and that God is listening because he needs to. People pray to god and I think I have my daily arguments with God. Fights perhaps? Anger perhaps? There is everything. Reverence and anger but the faith I believe remains. Faith that things might not go my way and it really fucking sucks but I will fight the fight because that's my responsibility. That it is my responsibility and no one else's, not even gods. So I fight god because that is why my and his connection is like. He's my friend but we have our falling offs and reconciliation. And I know God is not for everyone but this is what it is for me.

But coming back to people— if people are studying around me, I can't seem to study as well. If people are only sitting around me and I'm the one studying. I can do it. Is this the curious case of body doubling? Or just a severely low self-esteem? Or perhaps both?

I'm envious of those whose heads and minds work with them and not apart from them. I was going to write the word against instead of the word apart but I don't think my mind wants to work against me. It made me sad just as suddenly as it had appeared. I feel sorry for my mind— because it tries to work with me.

So it makes me envious because— why do they get to be normal and me with the extra struggles? I wish I was the normal one or perhaps a little more extraordinary because that's what it feels like— that to belong to this place I need to be more than myself and more like others. It's shitty.

Perhaps there are fifty other people here with the same thoughts as mine and I don't know about them and perhaps there are none. I will never know.

Today I made myself get up and eat breakfast, lunch and dinner properly. I hadn't eaten anything properly for the past three days. Just one meal a day and that too not food. I also made myself attend a few classes today. Just for the sake of it. Tomorrow I might not go. It really depends. I also studied today after I hit another slump.

I downloaded a pomodoro and used that. It was an app I had deleted earlier and now I got it back. I felt the resistance and I'm immensely slow as compared to my counterparts but I'm waking at the snails pace. I haven't turned into a rock yet. I might tomorrow. I don't know.

I'm trying to survive because I can't die. Not like this.

" If winter comes, can spring be far behind? "

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keefwho · 7 months

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March 14 - 2024 Thursday

11:35pm

4/10

This morning I was late to cleaning because I had to use the bathroom. But I had time to wipe down my sink and toilet. For breakfast I made eggs, spam, and oatmeal. I just need to finish my eggs since they are getting close to their best by date and I don't have much to pair them with.

I didn't stream today. I decided to try and focus on the art in an attempt to maybe recapture some of the meaning behind it. I might do this tomorrow too depending on how I feel. Instead I asked Daisy if she wanted to do a watchtogether while we worked so we did that. She shared about 2.5 hours of amusement park rides podcast which was an interesting listen. I really wasn't proud of the work I did on today's commission but it came out okay. I just wish I'd done better. Before lunch I took some 'time to myself' and then chilled for just a tiny bit. For lunch I made awful off brand spaghettios and doritos. I joined Turkey in desktop VR for company. She was helping this guy play blindfold chess. She asked me how I was doing (thank god) and I told her it was a rough day so she offered to talk about it with me after the chess game. We went to her homeworld with another friend and I kinda just unloaded for an hour. I felt a little bit because it did turn into me therapy time basically and I wasn't even coordinated with what I was saying, I was just rambling. But they both seemed here for it and gave some good advice. I can't even say it made me feel better though, not this time. What actually made me feel better was when we started talking about other stuff and having good back and forth conversation. I guess thats all I wanted, some good talking as opposed to talking about myself. I did today's request while this happened which I also wasn't proud of. We hopped worlds to the library I'm going to use for group reading therapy to check it out and I think it's a decent place as any to try holding it in. We all got off when Turkey had to leave, she's sort of the social glue for us. I also just wanted to get off and decompress a little. I skipped optional work today for this which I don't regret. I spent the rest of my evening watching Squeex and perusing the internet trying to have no active brain time. I tried hopping on Boodle in VRchat briefly but I was in desktop and didn't have much social energy. Eventually Daisy got in bed so we called and did puzzles, she read me 2 Monster High chapters, and I played Kingdom Hearts. Her shitty book app wasn't letting her load her book so I had to find a PDF. We went way overtime with KH2 but it was fun, I don't regret it.

~~~

Today wasn't so great. Most of today felt pretty lonely due to my usual feelings of loneliness. I was not driven in my work like I wished I was. Right now I want to figure out a motivation to draw again. I want it to feel exciting again. I know there has to be something here I enjoy. Ive just lost touch with it, or maybe I'm trying too hard to stick with old habits.

3 things I liked about today:

Chatting with Turkey and friends.

Relaxing with Squeex stream.

Bedtime activities with Daisy.

#journal #diary

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karasa · 8 months

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Do you think i'm crazy?

Originally Published Jul 24th, 2017

Do you think I’m crazy?

Because my therapist does.

I’d like to preface this with a quick thank you, to the internet. Specifically weird facebook, specifically aesthetes. Thanks for giving me space to completely ignore my own shitty shitty thoughts and delve into a more reformed sense of self-deprecation and great humor. Thank you, mr. skeletal

I’d also like to say that it is close to a miracle that i am still here, and alive. If you told me when i was 12 that i would actually make it to see 20, it wouldn’t have made sense.

Depression creeps. It creeps up on you like lights dimming in a theater. Your eyesight gets fuzzy and your breathing slows down and you let your mind set into a new reality. Depressed is a word I learned early but never actually used, because from what i understood about the word, if you are depressed, you need help.

Help isn’t a hug or a smile or someone who wants whats best for you: help is a waiting room with no one in it. Help is a 3 page consent form and no family vacations because you have to pay for therapy. I never ask for help anymore.

Moreso depression is the feeling that help cannot come, it is not available to you and it never will be. it is hopelessness, helplessness, loneliness incarnate. I am in love but I am lonely. There are places to go for help — but I can’t.

Can’t. Can’t means a lot more when you talk about yourself. It’s a reflection of what you think you ought to be doing, and how much you believe in yourself. If someone says that you are qualified and you say you can’t, the idea is that you are being modest, because you can! you, are qualified, able. Can’t is a failsafe. Can’t will get you nowhere. Cannot’s have not gotten many people anything they deserve in life. However with depression, it seems like you can’t be deserving of anything.

I constantly find myself apologizing.

One time I apologized to a woman, for opening my backpack and getting my notebook out, though it had nothing to do with her and she wasn’t in the way at all but i felt compelled to admit that i’d been so foolish and stupid and dumb, moronic and unfit for society because my notebook was in my bag, not my hands. She laughed at me and told me not to apologize, so i apologized again, cursing myself for being so stupid as to apologize to someone who clearly didn’t care. Apologizing for existing, in my experience, is the most intense rejection of self.

It’s hard to do things for yourself when you’re feeling undeserving. Bathing, brushing your hair and putting on a full outfit. Making breakfast, lunch or dinner. Making a Healthy breakfast, lunch or dinner. Making plans. Going to the grocery store. Going to the pharmacy, going to your friends, going to the kitchen, going to the mailbox. getting out of bed, cleaning your room, smiling, hobbies, calling your parents. Every little thing feels like a to-do list written in the worst handwriting imaginable. By even trying to get started, sometimes, it becomes too much to bear. and we break, and we curl back up in the blankets, and promise to try again tomorrow.

If i could explain anxiety, I probably wouldn’t have a headache right now. I wouldn’t be afraid to go outside if anxiety had a cause/effect kind of spiel, but instead anxiety is best defined as Jean-Paul Satre’s hell: a feeling you cannot escape. Anxiety is getting off the bus one stop early because you don’t want to miss your stop and you’re not confident enough that when you press the button, it will work. Anxiety is spending 2 hours getting ready for a party and spending more time trying to convince your friends to leave than actually enjoying yourself. Anxiety, goddammit its that feeling you get when you don’t know whether you completely aced that math test or if you got every question wrong and it keeps you up for three days only to go into class and find out that on the way to work, your professor had her window open and all of the papers flew out, so you have to take a make-up test that day. It’s wasted energy because your body can’t think straight.

Somedays i can’t leave the house. Makes it hard to have a job and class and friends when that happens. It’s never as bad as I expect, but expectations are our own form of realities, so when I make it back after my scrimmages I find myself, exhausted.

Why did I do that Why did I do that

Why did I do that

Why

Did I

Do that

(why did I do that?)

Every scenario you wonder why it went wrong, every scenario it is your fault why it went wrong. It’s schrodinger’s predicament, as it may or may not have happened in the way you believe it did, but you will never really know what happened until you peel back the lid that you’ve closed tight on yet another experience that haunts you, like if you forgot the name of the person’s birthday party you were at, or rather, you weren’t sure of you’d forgotten it, so you tried so hard to avoid using any name to refer to them all night that you ended up hiding behind the snack bowl, hoping to listen in on a conversation that would open your mind up to the realization that you were right about this person’s name the whole time.

Every layer you reveal is another one of your close friends, verbally giving you a pat on the back “don’t worry about it, it’s really fine.” If I had a genie, if genies exist, someone should ask for a redefinition of the word “fine”

Is it fine that I spilled some water on my lap at dinner? Or is it fine if I knocked the whole pitcher over. Is it ok? Or is it just “fine”? With the redefinition of fine I believe I’ll find myself at ease a lot more, but then everything will not be fine.

I started to carry around reminders about how insignificant some problems are, however the panic sets in before I can get my shaky little fingers around the crumpled up fortune in my pocket.

At the end of it all, im grateful for a mind able to dissect my own faults and frenzies, grateful that I am not debilitated by such fears and feelings.

At the end of it all I still breathe and walk around, I brushed my teeth today and even though at the end of the day I don’t think anyone really gets what I’m saying,

At the end of it all, it will be ok.

#words #therapy

0 notes

zwatchtowerz · 2 years

Text

I wrote this little 600 words thing for a Teen Wolf community, but nobody understood what I was going for. I know I'm a shitty writer but apparently, I need to share it here to confirm that indeed, I am a shitty writer, and what in my mind was clear and awesome, with a little mystery until the reveal, was actually a mess. No tag were added so I can still confuse people here, thank you.

The Envelope

It was going to be a great week. Mondays weren't her favorite days, but there was a feeling that something big would happen, that something would change her mood for the week. It better be good, she had plans, PLANS for Friday.

Mondays meant school started again and that alone was enough to make her not like that much Mondays. The first day of the week always meant mentally cursing at everything. She saw teenagers brooding and parents with kids crying their lungs off in the backseat, and wondered how a little cute baby could grow up to be… that. don’t get her wrong, she liked kids, but she had enough of her life as it was.

She got up the bed and went with her normal routine for breakfast. She was more tired than usual, but nothing that coffee wouldn't cure. Lately, she was feeling nauseous and with a headache that didn't go away as easily as normal. She blamed it on her age, laughing that she was becoming a grandma.

But Friday would be amazing.

Friday was Valentine’s day.

There wasn't a specific reason, but she wanted this Valentine’s to be special. There was an order for roses, because who said a woman couldn't buy flowers for the love of her life? Candles and nice dishes. Even a fancy tablecloth, one like that reminded her of a restaurant. They would stay at home because going out was overrated and pricy. She knew he was too busy with work and he would want a nice night in.

But before all the surprises, she needed to pass Monday.

Monday sucked.

She looked at the envelope, already open and lying on the bed. She made an appointment with a doctor the week before and now she had the results. So the nausea and the headache weren't because she was getting stressed and tired.

Shit.

“What I’m going to do now?”, she mumbled.

Monday turned Tuesday and turned Wednesday. Night become morning and the week passed in a blur. She tried to keep going as usual, but it was hard when the only thing she could think of was The Envelope. She went through the motions, waking up, breakfast, school, lunch, homework, cleaning, dinner, and repeat.

Valentine's day arrived, making her heart hurt. God, she was so excited about that and now she was a ball of worry.

She should tell him, this affected both of them. She loved him so much and the news would change everything. There wasn't a single doubt in her heart that he would stay with her through all of it. But her heart also wanted him to enjoy the night date without worry between them. A romantic comedy on the tv as background noise, where love was the solution to all.

She heard the car arriving at the house and the decision was made. Not tonight. She smiled, trying to show the love and adoration she had for him, and gave him a slow kiss as a welcome.

“I wasn't expecting this reception”, he said, his arms still around her waist. “Happy Valentine's day.“ Something in her eyes was different, she knew that and he noticed it.

“You know, whatever is it, you can tell me”, he said.

“Tomorrow. Let me have tonight”

“Tomorrow”.

They ate, talked, laughed, and later cuddle on the couch, half paying attention to the movie, half talking low about everything and nothing. The red roses in a vase decorated the living room next to pictures of her family.

Upstairs, hidden in a drawer was The Envelope, the incurable diagnosis with the complicated name inside, waiting for her to be brave enough. Downstairs, a deputy was smiling as his wife told him the story of their 8 year old son asking a million questions about why he was sent to spend the night at his best friend's house and why there were so many red things around the house with the shape of a heart.

#my writing #teen wolf

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mintmatcha · 4 years

Text

addressing issues - kyotani kentarou

well! here's part two to this drabble ! special thanks to Amy (@saetyrn9) for helping me out!

tw: hurt comfort, discussion of relationship issue

The pancakes are raw in the middle. You try to pick around the batter, stabbing only the burnt bits with your fork, but it's a bit of a hopeless task. The gluey texture sticks to your tongue and the tingle of baking soda fills your mouth with each bite.

"Don't eat that." Kyotani tosses the spatula into the sink with a sigh. The smell of burnt sugar clings to the air, even though all of the windows in the apartment are propped open. He's still in his pajama pants, loose things now splattered with batter, but he's pulled on a sweatshirt- one that he stole from your closet months ago. "I ordered food. It'll be here in 20."

You place the fork down. "Thank you for cooking."

He slinks over, shoulders slack with defeat, and plops himself at the table. Tiredness weighs on his features; neither of you slept very well last night, but he was out of bed long before you even woke. "Don't thank me- I fucked it up."

He expects anger. Maybe discipline. Sometimes you wonder if that’s all he’s ever known.

Stretching across the table, your hand finds his cheek and cups it. Morning stubble prickles along your palm as you give him a little squeeze. He's frozen in your touch, neither pulling away nor leaning in, but his eyes close.

"Thank you." you repeat, firm.

He turns to kisses your palm and his lips linger. They’re soft and waxy- he’s been using that chapstick you gave him. "Anything for you."

You two stay like this, connected by only your touch, for a long time, much longer than justifiable. Just as the moment feels infinite, Kyotani breaks away.

"We're avoiding it." he says. He takes your hand into his, placing two more quick kisses before setting you down. As he pulls away, you tighten your grasp and interlace your fingers with his. There's a flicker of surprise, the slight raise of his brows, but he settles into the contact, drumming his fingers along your knuckles.

"I know." you sigh. "We…. don't have to talk about this if you don't want to. We could just… move on."

He takes a deep, stabilizing breath. "That's not healthy."

The clock chimes. It rings through the kitchen, filling the space where your response should be. He raps in your knuckles with his finger tips, tapping patterns you can’t quite follow.

"Okay."

"Okay." he repeats. Kentarou digs into the hoodie's pocket and reveals a crumpled ball of paper. As he unfurls it, you can catch a couple words scribbled in the margins.

"Did you… take notes?" you ask. He flushes immediately, aggressively trying to smooth wrinkles down. He's scowling at the mess of graphite smeared across the page. The tips of his ears are scarlet, bright against his blonde.

"I … I'm not good with all this. This makes it easier." He shoots you a quick glance. "Is...that okay?"

"I just didn't expect it."

The sink's dripping again. It's a random droplet that collects at the faucets' rim before falling into the collection of dirty dishes below with a tiny plink. It catches your eye, the way it gathers slowly; maybe you could ask the landlord-

Ken's right. You are avoiding it.

"I don't like it when you yell." It feels good to state the obvious. The bounce of your calf shakes the table, jostling your joined hands, but it barely registers. "It makes me feel shitty. Really shitty."

There's still a weight of something upsetting you; it itches in the back of your throat. "And… and it scared me."

He clutches your hand tighter. There’s a slight tremble in his throat, the miniscule shake of his adam’s apple, as he swallows, but he doesn’t let anything reach his face. The firm hold of his brow is stoic, controlled, even as his body betrays him.

"I’m sorry.” his voice is firm. He opens his mouth to say something else, but only draws in a breath. His tongue flicks over his bottom lip, running over the chapped edges slowly as he contemplates in silence. “I... I’m sorry.”

“I know. I know you are.”

“I.. I just…” Kyotani’s unusually frazzled as his eyes flick down to the page in front of him. If you strain, you can make out some of the scribblings, but he adjusts away from you, covering the writing. “It's dumb, but…” he traces over his writing with his finger as he reads. “Sometimes, I feel some type-a way and… it, it comes out wrong. It’s easier for me to get angry than admit that I’m hurt. It’s not fair to you. It’s not an excuse.” he looks up at you. “I’ll work on expressing myself better.”

There’s a sincerity in his voice, a gentle truth that you want to cling on to, but that itch under your skin hasn’t gone away. The situation’s still bothering you, still begging to be addressed. As you turn over it all, the squeeze of his hand no longer feels comforting- it feels overbearing.

“Kentarou, I don’t even know what I /did/.” you try and pull away, but he’s holding too tightly. Exacerbation boils in your chest, bubbling over quicker than you can control. “One minute, we’re having a good time with your friends. The next minute you’re yelling at me and storming off! I don't understand what I even did!"

"But-"

The waver in your voice rings through the room as you give a final tug. “I can’t live like this, constantly hoping that I don’t push your buttons. It makes me feel like I’m living in a minefield.” Reluctantly, he releases you, hand still dangling over the ruined breakfast. His steady look has finally broken into one more recognizable, with downturned mouth and a glassy sheen to his eyes. It’s blinked away quickly with a sniff, replaced with his usual sternness, but it was there. “It can’t happen again, Kenta.”

“I understand. “ he says immediately.

The sink drips again. It’s all you can look at, that little shine in the corner of your eye. The uncomfortable squirm building in your stomach begs you to keep watching it, to focus on it until nothing matters. You’re only brought back to the conversation when his chair squeaks across the tile as he pushes away from the table. In a few strides, he’s at the faucet, wiggling the handle with just the delicate touch of his ring finger. “I’ll fix that tomorrow.”

Of course he will. He’s always clanking around your apartment, burying himself into a new task wordlessly. Wordlessly, without request, he strives to make your life better.

“I don’t even know what I did.” you repeat. The blonde leans over the sink, hunching over his elbows with a sigh.

"It's a dumb reason."

"If it matters to you, it's not dumb."

He says it without looking at you. "I don't like it when you call me maddog." he states firmly. "It hurts. Really fucking bad."

Your anger deflates, suffocated by the sudden weight of guilt. "I didn't know that."

He shrugs. It says all he needs to.

“I- your friends call you mad dog though."

“I don’t like it when they do it either.”

“But you don’t yell at them.”

"They call me mad dog because they think I'm mean. Feral." he shoves his hands into the sweatshirt's pocket and kicks at the tile. His sock, a pink polka-dotted thing he must have fished out of your drawer, skids across the tile. It doesn't match his other sock- a Kentarou staple."I don't care if that's what they think of me."

Kyotani gives you a half smile. "But I care how you see me."

You stand and slink over, reaching for the drawstrings on his hood. He straightens at your presence, but doesn't reach, instead just letting you fiddle with the frayed cloth. Neither of you can meet each other's gaze, instead just staring at the floor between you. It's not until now you realize that you are wearing the other pink sock. Sliding your foot in between his completes the set. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." The weight of him suddenly leaning against you, relaxing into you, almost knocks off your balance, but there's a comforting warmth to him.

"Still love me?" he rests his forehead against yours as he talks, his fingers are trailing over your sides and gathering up the hem of your shirt.

"Of course." you tug the strings, tightening the hood around his neck, "Still love me?"

He grips your hips and pulls you flush against him as a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. "Always will."

His lips trail lower until they are almost aligned with yours, breath warm and sweet. You rise up ever so slightly to close the gap. The first kiss is fleeting, just a test of the waters, but the next one takes its time.The drag of his lips, the taste of mint on his breath, the hum building in his throat: it suddenly hits you how much you've missed him. As your hands slide into his hoodie, your hoodie, pocket, dragging him closer, Kentarou changes the pace and showers your face with a barrage of pecks. It's quick and needy, leaving you no time to even breathe.

"You know-" you manage to as you dodge his mouth, arching your back away from him to catch your breath. He grunts out something adjacent to a whine and dips with you to press against your forehead."I don't think you're mean."

"You don't? Even after all this?" As he continues tracing kisses down your face and neck, tickling you with his stubble, you laugh and squirm, but he's holding you steady.

"I think you're a big softy." you giggle.

"Hey now. Don't go around saying I'm soft." he nips at your neck with a warning growl, but you can feel the curve of his smile. "It's only for you."

#kyotani #kyotani kentarou x reader #hurt comfort #mint's musings

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lilithbasically · 3 years

Text

PITA

(Pt. 2)

BakugoxReader

*Minors DNI*

Warnings: cussing, angst, fluff, mentions of sex, mention of daddy kink

< Prev. | Pt. 2 | Next >

___________________________

The sun hit your face through your blinds, and you sat up to stretch, letting out your obnoxious yell yawn that had become a habit at that point. You sighed and got ready for the morning, deciding to leave early to stop at your favorite cafe to grab a breakfast sandwich and coffee. As you walked, you went through your social media notifications and saw a friend request from Shoto, which you accepted. You decided to send him a flirty teasing text about it, but you found two messages already waiting. The first in the group chat was Deku letting Layla and you know he would be stopping by around lunch. The remaining text was from Shoto. Curious as to what he had to say so early in the morning, you checked the text.

Shoto

> I'll text you tomorrow to figure out details.

Goodnight, Y/N.

7:30 AM

>Hey, I sent you a friend request. I hope that's not too weird.

7:45AM

I was just about to text you to tease you about that. But, no. It's not weird at all! Also, good

morning! <

> Oh, yes, good morning, Y/N. May I ask how this tease of yours was going to play out?

Haha, Shoto, you're adorable. I was just going to suggest that you hadn't gotten enough of

me last night 😉 <

Putting your phone in your pocket, you walked to the counter and placed your order. You decided to indulge in one of your favorite time-passing activities; people-watching. Hearing your name five minutes later snapped you back to reality so, you walked over to grab your order and left the bakery. Not noticing the two men running in your direction, you slammed directly into one of their chests, spilling your coffee all over your shirt and dropping your sandwich.

"OI! Watch where you're fucking going!"

"Oh my god, ma'am, I'm so sorry. Are you okay??" A man with red hair asked, his voice dripping with genuine concern.

As you regained your ability to think clearly, you lost it just as quickly. You looked up to see an absolute beast of a man towering over you. Some of his red hair laying over his forehead, the rest pulled into a ponytail. His eyes full of concern, but a genuine, friendly smile was plastered on his face. All you could do was stare. He was fucking MASSIVE and sexy as hell. He had to be at least 6' 8" and his frame was almost twice your size.

I'd climb him like a tree, holy shit. You realized your inner monologue straying away and quickly silenced it.

"You really do have a staring problem, PITA."

Finally realizing how long you had been staring at the insanely attractive redhead, you forced yourself to look around and find that familiar husky voice. "Oh, hey, Bakugo," you replied with a smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Pickin' flowers; the fuck does it look like I'm doin, dumbass?"

You looked back at the man next to him and realized they were in workout clothes and had probably been running before you ran into him. Glancing up at his face, you almost die of embarrassment when you recognize the Pro Hero Red Riot looking back at you. "Oh holy fuck, I am so sorry, Red Riot. Are you okay? Did I get anything on you?"

"No! I'm perfectly fine, I'm concerned about you! You lost your entire breakfast you just got. I'm so sorry. Please let me buy you another," Red Riot pleaded, "I'll feel like a total dick and totally unmanly if I don't, pretty pleeeeaassee."

"For fuck's sake, shitty hair just hurry the fuck up so we can go."

He ran into the bakery while Bakugo stayed with you. You were about to ask him if he would be at the shelter later when your phone went off. Opening the message you received, you blushed a little too obviously, making Bakugo raise an eyebrow at you and glance down at your phone.

Shoto

8:00 AM

> Oh, I definitely did not get enough of you last night, Y/N.

You quickly locked your phone and you see Red Riot step back outside, your new breakfast in hand. "Thank you so much, Red Riot! You really didn't have to do that though," you said with a friendly smile.

"It's the least I can do, uhhhh...sorry I realized I never got your name," he said, smiling sheepishly and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, right! I'm L/N F/N, but please just call me F/N."

"Awesome, it was nice meeting you, F/N. I'm Kirishima Eijiro. And, again, I'm so sorry I wasn't paying attention. I was trying to be manly and listen to my bro's girl problems but I ended up being unmanly and running straight into you," he said with an exasperated sigh.

Ignoring the pang in your chest at the mention of Bakugo and girl problems, you recognized you needed to get to work like hella fast now, "Oh really, it's no problem. I have to change clothes at work anyway which is where I need to be headed. Um, will I see you later at the shelter, Bakugo?" He grunted in response which you knew to take as a yes. Saying goodbye to the Heroes, you ran off to the shelter, both men watching your retreating form.

*Bakugo POV*

[5 min before the collision]

Ugh, for fuck's sake, why did I even say anything to shitty hair. He's just gonna go back through the same goddamn lecture.

"I mean, dude, come on, Bakubro. If you're starting to catch feelings for this woman, let yourself feel them. You don't have to act on anything right now. Just let your brain and heart figure it out at your pace," Kirishima reasoned.

I know he's probably right.

"Tch. Whatever, shitty hair. I don't want the bullshit that goes with having fuckin feelings for someone. I'm not doing that shit again."

"Bro, you do realize Ami was not the norm, right? That's some once in a lifetime shit. Yeah, it was a horrible situation but she was an awful person. You gonna let a villain prevent you from bein happy?"

I can't even fuckin say anything to that. I know he said the last part to make me understand, but it still pisses me the fuck off. I just want one fucking hour where I don't think about PITA. This is spiraling so fast and no matter what I do, I can't stop thinking about the damn woman.

"Oh, you've gotta be shittin' me," Bakugo muttered as he watched Kirishima run directly into you. Initially worried about you, he let his usual scowl cover his features.

THE FUCK IS SHE STARING AT SHITTY HAIR FOR?!

"You really do have a staring problem, PITA."

Shit, now she's looking at me. Why does it feel like I can't breathe? Oh shit. Fuck. Okay, that's a fuckin overreaction. Calm the hell down. Wait, she just asked me what I'm doing here. So, if she's not staring, she's just oblivious as hell?

"Pickin' flowers; the fuck does it look like I'm doin, dumbass?"

Why the hell are you apologizing to him? Oh, for fuck's sake, take your damn time, hair for brains. What are the odds that I actually talk about PITA to someone, and she just magically shows up? That's gotta mean something bad, right? Oh my god, he's still standing there.

"For fuck's sake, shitty hair just hurry the fuck up so we can go."

She looks beautiful today, even with coffee all over her. Oh my god, brain, shut the fuck up. Is-is she blushing?? Who the hell is she texting??

Bakugo felt his shoulders tighten when he saw the name on your phone. But when he saw the text, his breath hitched, and fear crawled through his veins.

I haven't even accepted my own feelings about her; I don't have a right to feel this way. Why does the thought of her with anyone else make me wanna crawl in a hole? I barely know the woman, Jesus Christ. Fuckin IcyHot, though? Really, PITA??

Bakugo swore he saw sadness flash over your soft, beautiful features when Kirishima said something about girl troubles, but if you had felt it, you concealed it just as fast.

If I open my mouth right now, I'm not sure what's gonna come out. I can't talk to ya right now, PITA. I wish I could tell you how excited I am to see you again later.

After you left, the two men stood and watched you go.

"She's talkin to IcyHot."

"Wait, THAT WAS HER?! Bro, she's fuckin gorgeous and a total sweetheart! Oh, shit, are they like ACTUALLY talking, or is it just a casual thing?"

"I don't fuckin know."

"You better figure your shit out and make a move. I mean even I almost made a move. You know Todoroki won't hesitate."

"YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT, SHITTY HAIR?! Just shut up and run, dumbass."

I'll talk to her this afternoon. Please just give me time.

_____________________________________________________________________________

You busted through the doors of the shelter, out of breath and still a bit flustered. Layla first pointed to your shirt, then looked at you and started laughing. "YOU-YOU'RE AS RED AS A TOMATO, Y/N," she choked out, tears streaming from laughter. When she finally calmed down, she asked what had happened to make you look that much of a mess. You wove your tale until, "BAM! I run right into a Greek god's chest with his Greek god buddy right next to him. WHY ARE ALL THE PROS SO FUCKIN HOT NOW, LAYLA?! FIRST BAKUGO, THEN SHOTO, NOW KIRISHIMA?! I swear to god I'm gonna die with all these hot men around. Bakugo is loud, a bit rude, sexy as fuck, and I'm convinced a secret softy. Shoto is reserved, very polite, absolutely stunning, and I'm guessing secretly bold when he gets comfortable with someone. Let us not forget Kirishima; I just met the man but he's a literal ball of goddamn sunshine, he insisted that he replace my breakfast, he's gorgeous, and he's MASSIVE. I'm not going to hold back the commentary here because I don't give a damn to be honest. But, with how huge that man is, his dick has to be massive, right? Like, please daddy, split me in half."

You heard a familiar bark of laughter from behind the counter. Turning slowly, you see Deku standing up from the floor. "Wow, N/N. I didn't even get mentioned on the hot list. My feelings are hurt," he joked, propping his arms on the counter.

"YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE YET! ....did you just hear everything I said, Mido?" Deku just laughed and nodded his head. You walked over to where he stood and gave him the best death glare you could manage under such embarrassment. "You are hereby sworn to secrecy. You cannot say a word to any of them about what I said, understood?" You held out your pinky for him to take to swear, only to have it slapped away by Layla.

"Hell no, Y/N. If any of those three ask about you, Izu is gonna tell the truth. You need to go on a damn date, woman. Go get some dick at least, Jesus," Layla laughed as she said the last sentence, poking Deku to get his attention.

"Hey, my battery powered boyfriend is loyal and doesn't hurt my feelings okay? And yeah, let me just. 'Hey, Bakugo, you're hot as hell, wanna fuck?' Or 'Hey, Kirishima, could you split me in half with your dick?' Or 'Hey, how about a threesome where you both use me until all I can say is yes daddy?," you stared incredulously at Layla, whose eyes were as wide as saucers; mouth ajar. You looked at Deku, who had tears pouring from his eyes and a hand over his mouth, unsuccessfully trying to hold back roaring laughter. Confused, you turned around to what you could only describe as one of your worst nightmares.

You're cursed. You're fucking cursed; that's the only explanation. You turned around, not met with just Bakugo; oh no. His best friend was right next to him, just like he had been earlier. They both had wide eyes, raised eyebrows, but a slight smirk played on both their lips. You tried to say something, anything, but your voice caught in your throat. You really believed for a moment that your brain was going to overheat from how hot your entire body felt. If there were a red redder than the two men's eyes in front of you, that shade of red would've been named after you. Finally finding some part of your body to still be functional, you smiled and let out a sharp exhale, nodded, and promptly turned on your heel to walk to the back of the shelter.

After you took some deep breaths and changed, you emerged from the back. Deku and Layla's eyes immediately trained on you, ready to tease you to no end. Bakugo, however, didn't give them the chance. Grabbing your wrist and pulling you through the door to the kennels, he pushed you against the wall, keeping you caged between his arms.

"The fuck was that about, PITA?" He asked with his signature smirk plastered on his face.

"Um, had to change out of the coffee-stained shirt? Why, what's up?" You replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible while avoiding eye contact. Leaning in to press his lips against the shell of your ear, he whispers, "Oh so we're gonna pretend you didn't say that and I didn't hear it, yeah?" The husky tone of his voice sent shivers down your spine and made your breath hitch. Pulling away, he chuckled and ran a hand through his ash-blonde locks. "Alright, have it your way, Princess," he sighed before walking away.

To say you were breathless would be a severe understatement. Needing to cool off before you were ready to face anyone again, you stepped into the restroom to splash cold water on your face.

What in the ever-loving fuck just happened? I have never been turned on by someone calling me Princess. OOOOOH, why does this man affect me so much?? Damn.

*Bakugo POV*

This is gonna be fun

#Bakugo x reader #Bakugo angst #Bakugo fluff #mha x reader #Katsuki fluff #Katsuki angst

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uhhlucid · 2 years

Text

Part. 5

pairing: iwaizumi x black!fem reader

synopsis: on pointe! (updated weekly) previous parts in masterlist

word count: 2.3k

type: fanfiction

a/n: i'm so excited for summer break wowowow

Iwaizumi woke up in the middle of the night to Oikawa leaving their room. This wasn't an unusual thing as he usually left to hook up with some random girl. What was different was Iwaizumi noticed his dance bag was gone. He quickly grabbed his own and was out the door. There were a few students out at this time. Some coming out for a midnight smoke, some coming out for what Oikawa usually came out for, and some practicing a dance routine out on the open sidewalk.

He half expected the school building to be closed but it was unlocked. He followed his friend downstairs to the dance studios. The lights were all turned off which gave the basement an eery feel. He followed him to the last studio where he switched on the lights and began warming up. "Jeez Iwa you have to be sneakier then that," he stretched in front of the mirror. "Why are you here so late?" He dropped his bag besides Oikawa's.

"Just trying to get my choreography done," he said it as if it was normal to do these sorts of things this late. "We have school tomorrow," Iwaizumi reasoned. "I have to perfect my solo. What kind are you doing?" Iwaizumi shrugged. "I guess a hip-hop solo. It's the easiest thing." Oikawa chuckled a bit. "Yeah I guess that's like you. I'm doing a more contemporary thing." "You shouldn't stress it too much. Your like the best dancer here," Iwaizumi assured him.

"You know we're competition this week right?" Oikawa started his music. "Right right. I'll see you tomorrow then. Good night Shitty-kawa." "Hey that's not very nice Iwa-chan," Oikawa pouted. Iwaizumi ignored him and grabbed his bag. He took the long way back to his room using the extra time to plan out his routine. Was everyone as stressed as Oikawa was about their solos? Guess he would find out tomorrow.

The next morning at breakfast Y/n convinced Iwaizumi to try the parfait she was having. He was surprised he liked it and wondered why no one had ever introduced him to the dish. "How's everyone's solo?" Elissa asked. "I'm doing a ballet one. It's the only thing I'm good at," Lia fell silent. "I'm doing an acro routine. Seems easy enough to please the queen," Serenity smirked. It was common for students to call Mrs. Aveline "the queen". "I'm doing lyrical," Kourtney murmured. Iwaizumi was glad everyone was doing different styles so it might be easier on the judges.

"Are we doing costumes all by ourselves?" Y/n queried. Oikawa announced, "Guess we have to wait for our queen to speak." The bell rang and the group dispersed. Iwaizumi didn't see any of them until lunch when Mrs. Aveline called all of them to the company studio. "I've decided to interrupt your lunch for costume fitting," she remarked.

"Are we going to get extra time to eat?" Frankie raised his hand jokingly. "No," she deadpanned and began walking towards the seamstress. Iwaizumi didn't care much about his costume, but he enjoyed watching the others get all dressed up. Y/n emerged from behind the curtain and asked Iwaizumi for his opinion. She wore a leotard with cream being the color of choice and a plum color for below the waist. It featured what Iwaizumi liked to call "pirate sleeves", a cream colored bow at the neckline on the back, and was backless. "It looks great on you," he responded without a second thought. She smiled, satisfied, and returned behind the curtain to slip back into her school uniform.

Lia was next to receive her garments. Hers was a black velvet leotard with floral mesh sleeves. The platter tutu had a layer of red jewels on top of the black mesh. A fancy lace fan and choker completed the look. She walked in a circle on pointe to test it out before returning the garments. Next was Kourtney. For her lyrical routine, she chose a blue sage velvet leotard complete with a halter neckline, chiffon off-the-shoulder sleeves, and a chiffon skirt. Serenity opted for a simple black spandex with embroidered mesh cutouts on the leg and a wrap around side cut out.

They returned when there was only about five minutes left for lunch. Y/n and Iwaizumi split a salad bowl and Oikawa kept making kissy noises while Lia tried to get him to taste her kale smoothie. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful and everyone was too busy working on their solos to make plans. Once the final bell rang, Iwaizumi recievd a tap on the shoulder.

"Wanna practice together? We can use the dance building." The dance building, as the students called it, was never used. Mainly because everyone had dance classes in the school's basement. It was only crowded when there was going to be a show and everyone needed extensive practice. It was the perfect place for the two. Iwaizumi followed Y/n. She swiped her student id and was surprised to find a few seniors there including Frankie.

He paid them no attention and the two used a studio down the hall. Y/n left to get changed leaving Iwaizumi to work on his solo. He took off his jacket and set it on one of the bars. He scrolled through his list of non copy right music looking for a hip hop song. Y/n returned in a simple black leotard and jazz shoes while he was still choosing. "How about we both do some improve and work on the kinks later?" she suggested.

He nodded in agreement and she sat at the mirror. He selected a song and began. Dancing was as natural to Iwaizumi as breathing. Especially hip hop. Oikawa usually joked that he should be in one of the popular street dancing groups in Japan rather than studying at a ballet school. The music ended and Y/n clapped. "I didn't know you did hip hop." He was in disbelief. Hip-hop was his main thing.

He sat at the mirror and gulped down his water bottle as Y/n picked a song. The song she chose was upbeat and fun and matched her personality. Mrs. Aveline always stressed that they had to "tell a story" with their movement. Iwaizumi thought dances looked better when the dancer was just having fun. She finished and plopped next to him, gulping her water in a similar fashion. "Still need to tweak a few things," she said after a long silence. He simply nodded.

The studio door swung open and to no surprise it was Oikawa with Lia shuffling behind him. "Lia's mom is performing tonight and she invited us. Can you believe it?" Oikawa flaunted his phone in Iwaizumi's face. "Yeah yeah." "And we get to perform," Lia added. "Perform what?" Y/n was suspicious of the legitimacy of this performance. "Our dance from Saturday what else?" Oikawa said as if it was obvious.

"Do you even have the dance memorized?" Y/n looked Lia up and down. "Of course. Oikawa and I have been practicing all afternoon. Now get your costumes and we'll meet you out front in fifteen minutes," Lia didn't give them a choice to object. "What about curfew?" Iwaizumi asked but they were already out the door. "That was weird," Y/n started to stand up. "Wanna do it?" "I don't like the girl, but I do love to perform."

Iwaizumi and Y/n parted ways, each heading for their own dorms. Iwaizumi found the costume in one of his various costume drawers and stuffed it in his dance bag along with a few snacks. He was the last to arrive and the group headed for the train station. "So where is your mom performing?" Y/n was sure Lia was bringing them to their deaths. "The Sydney Opera House of course! She's coming all the way from France to perform with her company," Lia's face lit up. At least loving ballet was one thing she hadn't lied about.

The majority of riders got off at the opera house station and the group went with the crowd. Iwaizumi had been only once before and that was to watch Oikawa on stage. The theater was just as huge and beautiful as it had been last year. Iwaizumi couldn't help but stare at the ceiling as the design was magnificent. However Lia was in a hurry and rushed to the back hallways. Almost immediately they were stopped by a guard. It was a short, pudgy man that had a bead of sweat running down his forehead that he kept wiping with a handkerchief. His jet black hair was slicked back with so much gel his head shined.

"What're you kids doing? Go on and enjoy the show." Lia began throwing a fit. "Mister you don't know what your talking about. We're supposed to be performing." He yawned. "Mhm. Go back to your seats kid." "My mother is Celine Lafitte." Her French accent was starting to worsen. "Funny story. I have no idea who that is." "How can you not know who's performing in your own show?" she whined. "I'm going to have to use force if you kids don't move." "Force on minors? I'll sue." He snorted. "Can't you see we're supposed to be here? I'm Celia Lafitte damn it." Iwaizumi noticed a woman coming up behind the security guard.

She had thick dark brown curls just like Celia except hers were in two low pigtails. She wore a white leotard with a romance tutu and a blue gingham apron over it. Rosy red slippers completed the look. She was paler than Celia however and their noses were completely different. "Sorry that my daughter and her friends bothered you. They'll be no more trouble yes?" "Mama he didn't even know who you are," Lia whined. Her mother didn't respond and motioned for us to follow her. "You guys will be the opening act. Tonight we're performing the Wizard of Oz." "My mama's got the lead role," Lia grinned.

Her mom let them change in her private dressing room while she went to warm up for the show. "Can you believe we're about to perform at The Sydney Opera House?" Oikawa beamed. "You've done it before," Iwaizumi mentioned. "I totally forgot about that. We stood outside in the freezing cold waiting for the doors to open," Y/n laughed at the memory. The four quickly got changed and stretched and did a few run throughs of the dance. Celine peeked her head through the door, "It's showtime." They followed her where they passed many other dancers who were stretching or talking amongst themselves. Iwaizumi was jittery with nerves. His first performance in the opera house and it wasn't even a dance he'd perfected. Y/n smiled at him. "Your gonna do great Hajime," she comforted him.

He smiled back and gave her hand a quick squeeze. "You are too." The stagehand signaled them and they waltzed out on stage. Because there were only four performers they changed the chorography so that both Lia and Y/n were spotlighted. Iwaizumi had always struggled with pirouettes on pointe, but he pushed himself. His toes were going to be so sore after this. A few times during the performance his eyes darted towards Lia. Everything about her performance was amazing from the technique to the way she carried herself to her focus. If she performed like this at nationals surely she would hold the national title. The piece ended and they waltzed off stage.

Celine pulled her daughter into a hug. "I'm so proud of you. Your making such great friends too." "Yeah friends," Y/n snorted under her breath. Lia's mother disappeared to prepare for going on stage. The four found their way back to the dressing room and got changed. "My mom thinks I have lots of friends. It'll suck when she finds out the truth," Lia broke the silence. "It's not your fault. Mrs. Aveline brings in a new boy or girl yearly and just slaps them on the team. They never last and they never have to try out like we do. Once she even brought two and we were all competing to not get replaced by one of them," Oikawa attempted to shift the blame.

The four munched on some of the snacks in Iwaizumi's bag on the way to the train station. "Well I had fun at least. The bright stage lights and all the people loved seeing us dance," Y/n attempted to lift the gloomy mood. She twirled as they crossed a street. "Maybe one day we'll all be up on that stage. Dancing for the same company," Iwaizumi hoped. "Definitely not dancing for Mrs. Aveline's company," Lia joked. Maybe Lia wasn't so bad after all, Iwaizumi wondered. They rode the train back and there was no sight of Mrs. Aveline. "Woohoo! Another day of sneaking out without getting caught," Lia cheered. Oikawa smiled and the four parted ways.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa walked back together. "Maybe you were right about Lia," Iwaizumi spoke. "Oh yeah? You should trust me more Iwa-chan. What about you and Y/n?" He shrugged. Things were the same as last year. They hung out together and did normal teenage things. "Iwa can we all go as aliens to the Halloween party?" He had completely forgotten about that. "Sure whatever. I'm so tired and my toes are so sore," he complained. "I can carry you," Oikawa offered. "Never in a million years Loserkawa." "That's so mean," Oikawa whined. "Dumbass." They continued bickering until they reached their dorm.

Iwaizumi fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. A part of him was looking forward to the party and the other half was terrified. But he had to confess at some point, right?

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