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captaincravatthecapricious · 3 years

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Things You Said When You Were Scared- Prompt Fill

Bit of an au after the worm attack. Jon is having a rough time.

CWs injury (canon typical worm related), paranoia, exhaustion. nausea, vomiting (it's not gross, I promise), pain, dizziness, fainting, medication mention, canon typical quarantine mention, food mention.

@janekfan @sukurarose92

Jon can’t remember the last time he felt this terrible. There probably had been other times. A few terrible flus over the years, and getting almost eaten by a spider once upon a time…. but time has a tendency to dull the particularly bad stuff, aside from say, flashbacks and nightmares. But it’s the brain protecting itself. You don’t remember the pain. You don’t remember the fear. You remember the memory of the pain, wrapped in spun-sugar-strands of time, growing dusty on a shelf. You remember the taste of fear, the gripping anxiety of it. You remember surges of it in the depths of the night and you panic… but you can’t remember it all the time. That just isn’t how the brain works.

Which is irrelevant. All irrelevant, because the pain medication he’s been given is wearing off. He thinks Sasha and Tim went off to do something….? Probably panic together about the fresh worm trauma. Martin? Jon hasn’t the foggiest clue.

Possibly because he’s hazy with pain and the last of the drugs that have been keeping him going this long. Staggering into the walls as he tries to exit the institute. Eyes closing involuntarily against the pain and the exhaustion. Limbs feeling so alien between the bandages and the aching, weeping holes they hide beneath them. Pounding dizziness down to his core.

He aches.

Phantom itching-crawling-squirming on his skin, through his muscles, down to the bone. The actual holes chewed into him.

He isn’t sure how he’s going to get to his flat. He can’t stay in the Archives, not with the police in the tunnels and the ECDC still doing whatever it is they are doing. But the thought of taking a cab or the tube make him want to tear his remaining skin off. Makes him want to just lie down on the sidewalk.

He even thinks making it to the front doors will end him.

He’s dizzy and sick and his limbs won’t carry him.

He has to sit down on the first step outside the door, sticking his head between his knees. He can’t do this. He can’t. He’s just going to sit here all night, or risk passing out or throwing up or risking any other horror of the late twilight consuming him before he can collapse into unconsciousness in the comfort of his own bed.

He waits for the world to stop spinning, and tries not to cry.

Because he can’t have more pain medication until he eats something. He can’t eat anything because it won’t stay in him, and even if it would, he can’t go anywhere. He’s stuck. Less than a five minute walk from his office where Gertrude DIED, from where he was attacked where he thought he’d be Safe, where he thought Martin would be safe. A few paces from where the dead worms were pulled out of him and he was scoured raw and sterile in a hastily assembled quarantine on the sidewalk.

He tries not to spiral into a panic attack right here.

Trying to pull his breathing under control, because it isn’t helping his tenuous grasp on the directions of up and down.

Where is the next danger going to come from?

Is this when Mr. Spider will strike? Letting him go until he’s weak and exposed and alone?

Or is this where some unknown (or known) hostile comes in with a grand betrayal and a gun. Leaving him to be another mystery, or a willfully ignored casualty of something he can’t begin to understand?

“Jon?”

Jon jumps. And very, very much regrets it. Heart racing, head spinning, a fresh hurt. A fresh reminder of every opening in his flesh that doesn’t belong there. “Ma… Martin?” He asks around gasping and shuddering breaths. “What …are you doing here?”

His voice is a little distant, a little hallow. “Don’t really have anywhere to do, do I? You packed up my flat. All in boxes at some storage unit. Now, my bedroom is tangentially part of a crime scene.”

“…Right.” It’s all his fault.

He needs to sleep. He needs some painkillers. He might need to throw up, but that is an issue he plans to avoid, if at all possible. Ditto to fainting. Although that seems a little more inevitable.

Martin makes no move to continue speaking. “So… your plan was to just camp out on this bench?”

Martin shrugs. “Dunno. Figured I might call Tim? At some point? Or try to sneak back into the Archives once the police leave? Can’t really afford a hotel. Maybe just sleep on this bench. Try to decompress or something. Jon. Why are you still here? Said you’d go home hours ago.”

Well he can’t exactly tell Martin he’d passed out in the break room for some indeterminate measure of time, then spent another eternity getting sick in the toilets. And then possibly passed out again. That’s not just something you tell Martin and expect him not to fuss over you. And Jon tries to tell himself that that would be suffocating and not kind of welcome right now. He tells himself that the thought of spending more time with Martin brings discomfort, and irritation, and fear. It’s not like he can prove that Martin won’t kill him. But he’s too tired to think about that. He just wants to sleep.

“....Um?”

Martin looks at him, probably for the first time. “Jesus, Jon. You look terrible.”

Jon hmmms in agreement. Not like he can argue. Martin’s too nice to comment on the bandages. A little too tactful. Right? Martin’s bumbling and stupid, but he’s tactful. He’s Nice. As irritating as he can be, he’s just so Nice.

But, it’s not like he can argue. He’s covered in bandages and a clammy sweat and he’s halfway into a panic attack and he can’t really walk and he just wants to lay down right here until the world stops moving. Both in the sense that he’s dizzy and in the sense that things beyond his comprehension are happening at a pace he can’t begin to catch up with.

“Can I... call you a cab? Or... or something?”

Jon shakes his head as much as he dares, which isn’t much. No cabs. He gets carsick. He doesn’t stand a chance.

“Well you can’t just sit there all night.”

“Right, like you plan to?”

Martin looks away.

And Jon goes back to trying not to pass out.

“Tim lives close by, doesn’t he, I walk you there? Or… um… carry you?” Martin’s trying to be tactful. Jon is pretty sure that is supposed to be a pointed look at his legs.

Jon scowls. (Not that Martin is wrong. There is something very wrong with his knee.)

“Can’t just …intrude like that. I’m sure he doesn’t want me around. Not professional…”

“Jon, you saw him in his pants today. You were put in quarantine together. I think you’re past all normal working relationship boundaries, even if he wasn’t your friend. I can’t just leave you here, and you clearly aren’t planning to get yourself home. Besides… maybe if he takes you in… maybe he’ll take me in, too.”

Jon stares down at the sidewalk, drifting in lazy, nauseous, out of focus movements before his eyes. “He doesn’t want me around. Not after taking Sasha’s job. Not after making him stay to get his statement.” Jon whispers at the pavement.

“Yeah like he’s still jealous for Sash, after that creepy worm lady went specifically for the “Archivist.” Whatever the fuck that means. And you know Tim was only pissed because he was in pain and tired, like you are now!”

“I should just go home…”

“Yeah, but you won’t.”

Christ Martin’s stubborn.

“Now. Can you walk, or do I need to cary you?”

Jon tries pull himself up to prove a point, but he comes to in Martin’s arms a few moments later, Martin loudly cursing at him. He’s in too much pain to really hear what Martin is trying to say to him. And he’s feeling even more sick. And he wonders where his prescriptions and paramedic provided cane have gotten to, but he really doesn’t really care, because Martin is solid and warm and he’s so tired.

He wakes up again on Tim’s couch. Sick to his stomach from the oppressive oder of takeout.

“Woah, boss. Not on the couch. I’ve got you.”

Throwing up nothing into the bin that’s been hastily shoved in front of him even though he’s got nothing in him anymore. He sobs around dry heaves until it’s just the silence juddering sobs. He Hurts.

He wants to hide. From Martin who is making tea, from Sasha running a bandaged hand through his hair. From Tim supporting the bin, and Jon himself.

He curls in on himself. Wills himself into unconsciousness, but the injuries pulse with each uneven breath, stomach still roiling painfully. He needs more medicine, but he can’t think about hoping to keep it down.

He sobs against Tim, as the bin is pried away.

“‘Hurts. Tim ‘m scared.”

Scooped up. Held, gently.

“Why didn’t you head home? Why not go right away so you could get toast and water into you, and sleep until you could take some more meds?” Tim holding him. Martin awkwardly sat by his side with ginger tea. Which Jon doesn’t care for, but Tim hasn’t kept mint tea since Jon stopped visiting. Still… it should help. Sasha clearing away the food smells, bless her. “Why did you have to take our statements? I would have invited you back here, if you didn’t?”

That last question doesn’t help.

He doesn’t know he’s tearing at the bandages until Tim’s tugging his hands away, and Martin is bemoaning the splotches of blood now decorating the bandages that are quickly becoming sweaty and grimy. Couldn’t even stay clean after he was scrubbed sterile. Martin and Sasha and Tim are spotless and scoured.

“I… I don’t want to disappear. I… do-don’t want to be found in the tunnels. I don’t want to vanish without a trace, I…“ He doesn’t even know. He can’t breathe. He’s lightheaded. He Hurts.

“Hey… hey hey. It’s.. it’s okay to be scared. Why don’t we get you cleaned up, okay? Then see if we can get some saltines and tea into you so you can get some meds, eh? Then we’re gonna all get some sleep.”

“I don’t want to lose you…” Jon’s voice swallowed by Tim scooping him up. Martin hovering with the bin and Jon’s bag of medical supplies.

Sasha’s back by then, brushing back Jon’s curls. “And you won’t. Sooner you leave, the sooner we can all get some sleep, alright?”

Jon closes his eyes, and nods, letting Tim carry him to the washroom.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #timothy stoker #sahsa james #magnus pod #tma fic #cw injury #cw nausea #cw vomit #cw fainting #cw dizziness #cw medication #cw quarantine #my fic #my words #my art

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darthkruge · 3 years

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Anakin Skywalker taking care of you when you’re on your period would include....

Warnings: language, talk of periods, brief mention of vomiting (cramp induced), fluff

A/N: I’m on my period and I’m literally fucking miserable so yes enjoy everyone! I know this isn’t the best writing and that’s okay! I’m in pain so I’m giving myself a pass. Basically, I want Anakin so if anyone could just… send him my way… I’d be greatly appreciative

First off, let me just say that when you’re on your period, Anakin is so sweet. He’s always gentle and careful with you but he just gets extra protective when he knows you’re in pain.

Like he’s always getting you shit and making sure you’re okay and as comfortable as you can be. He hates knowing that he can’t actually take away your pain so he does a bit of overcompensating

Also he’s so nonjudgmental

Like if you bleed on the sheets, no big deal. He’ll wash them for you.

Bleed through your clothes? It’s alright, he’ll give you some of his.

Once, you were sitting on his lap and you accidentally bled on him. And you were so embarrassed.

“Holy shit, Anakin, I’m so sorry” You say, your face burning up.

Anakin smiles, cups your cheek, and kisses your forehead. “It’s okay, my love, don’t worry. I can change.” He replies, reassuringly

I mean, of course, no one likes to get bled on, but he knows you’d feel guilty if he showed any discomfort so he makes sure not to.

Also, he becomes a fucking cuddle monster. Like we all know he’s great at that and loves the physical contact but it’s just overdrive when you’re on your period. Because he knows that you need it, too. When you just are lying in bed, groaning in pain and kinda making grabby hands at him, he’s there immediately. Arms come around you and you nuzzle into his chest and you’re just so happy

He never really understood how him just holding you would help when you were in that much pain. And you’re like “I dunno, your presence is really comforting I guess”

And that just makes his entire life

He’s thinking to himself, I’m comforting?? Like, my presence?? That’s enough to be… comforting? And he doesn’t exactly understand why you find him comforting or safe or enough, but you do. So he just snuggles back up against you and holds you a little tighter with this big goofy smile on his face.

He’ll literally spend all day holding you. Sometimes you even koala bear hold him when you two need to go to the kitchen or get anything. He doesn’t mind, he likes having you close

Also, mans is a furnace and it feels so good when you’re all achy and crampy and in pain

And while we’re on the subject of cramps...

Big hands make good heaters. You will just take his flesh hand and place it on your stomach and the heat just radiates and helps so much

He’ll also just gently rub circles onto your stomach and it’s very nice

However, sometimes you’ll get insecure because you feel all bloated and gross. And he immediately goes into hype mode

“No, no, baby you’re beautiful!”

“Stop saying that, you’re not disgusting!”

“Angel, come on! You always look amazing and this is no exception”

And you can tell he means every single word

Then you get all pouty and emotional because how does he always know what to say?! Cue: tears. And when I say Anakin panics when he sees tears I mean he p a n i c s

He feels so bad because he thinks he said something wrong and made it worse

“Please, please stop crying! What can I do to help? I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He says quickly, eyes scanning your face

And you start crying even more because you didn’t mean to make him feel guilty

But eventually y’all calm down and you tell him that you’re fine and you just cry a lot when you’re on your period. And he’s like “...oh”

From then on he gets very used to the mood swings. He makes sure you don’t go watching anything remotely sad or too sweet or sentimental on the holo because he knows you’ll start sobbing and he doesn’t like that.

Also, he’s so good at giving you massages. Sometimes the periods don’t just make stomach cramps, your back is also killing you. And Anakin, of course, notices and just says “okay lay down” and he just… there’s just something about him. You’re certain he has healing properties because truly his hands can cure anything.

And then when you get all tired later because now you feel all warm and safe and comfy, right back to cuddling.

He also makes sure to always get you whatever snacks you want. After a while he learns your cravings and gets stuff ahead of time so you’re sure to have them. He literally will start to memorize your cycle and get all the supplies for you, too. And he gets heating packs for you and warm, soft blankets. Yeah, he’s prepared.

One time, it was just really bad. Like the worst one you’ve ever had.

You were sobbing from the cramps, the pain had made you vomit and you’d almost passed out from it, too. Anakin was so scared, he didn’t know what to do. He held you to him the whole time, trying to comfort you but nothing was working. He’d just carry you to and from the bathroom, knowing you felt lightheaded when you walked.

He made you get in the bath because he knew it would make you feel better and he did everything for you. Like he washed your hair, your skin, your face. He used his metal hand when shampooing your hair because it felt so nice against your scalp (ty Julia for this hc, I literally have not stopped thinking about it)

When you finally had enough relief from the pain to pass out, he was so relieved. He always tries to get you to rest when you’re on your period. He knows it helps and he’s always so soothing, gently lulling you into sleep.

He also always makes sure you’re eating and drinking because he knows you have a habit of just crawling under the blankets and not moving. And as much as you sometimes don’t want to eat the food or drink the water he gets for you, you’re very thankful later. Whenever you ignore him, you always end up with the worst headaches.

And he’s kinda like “I told you so” but then you look all pitiful and sad and he caves and massages your temples until it goes away.

Yeah, he can be overbearing but you love him for it. He always takes the time to care for you and get you whatever you want. And he can’t always just take days off when you’re on your period but he makes sure to get home as early as he can. He can’t stand the thought of you being alone and hurting.

In short, he’s the sweetest, most thoughtful person ever

He just hates seeing you in pain and would do anything to make it better for you

Soft boy loves helping people <3

i made a taglist if anyone wants to join!

permanent tags:

@saltybreaddream

anakin tags:

@anakinswhore @kennedywxlsh

#megan writes #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin fluff #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n

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sicjimin · 3 years

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A.N : my own take on the random dialogue prompts ~ and i miss Hyuna's little family. From the "Ugh, i'm sorry you had to deal with me" — "No honey, you're fine. I love taking care of you", and "Can you come home soon?"

TW : emeto

🐥🐱🍼

It gets too much.

With persistent nausea that had him gagging once in a while every 15 minutes since he woke up and Hyuna's tantrum as she starts teething. Everything is too much for Yoongi. He shouldn't let Jimin go to work today, but he knows the younger had to prepare his intro, including MV shooting recording and else for this comeback. So he couldn't exactly say no when the younger kisses him goodbye this morning.

"Hyuna, baby .. hey", Yoongi rocking her from side to side as he tries to calm her down. She just cries harder in response to it all. The movement is just making his nausea worse, to be honest. He gulped down a faint sensation of liquid shooting up to his throat, parting his lips slightly to breathe through nausea.

" Do you want something baby? play?", he asked softly with a slight tremble in his tone.

Hyuna sniffles, and nods. Yoongi chuckles as he ruffles his daughter's hair softly, placing her on the couch and grabbing her toys to distract her.

He sighs softly, letting out a small cough at the same time before continuing playing with her. A smile forms on his lips when his little one starts smiling and giggling again.

But his smile didn't last long when the nausea was building and increasing. It takes everything within him to keep his lunch down and swallow, to not vomit right here.

He pressed his fingers to his lips, while still trying to entertain Hyuna with her toys.

It didn't does the trick as his stomach hitched. He swallows hard, and shuts his eyes.

Breathe Yoongi ... breathe..

"Pa?", Hyuna calls him. Tugging his shirt lightly. Yoongi opens an eye slightly, looking down at the little who looks with her doe eyes at him.

She points towards her stomach. " Hungry?", Yoongi's voice comes out merely as whispers.

Hyuna nods.

Yoongi scoped her in his arms and bring her to sit on her stool.

" Okay, let's feed you then."

He opened the fridge, figuring something that he could make for her, when nausea hits him full force.

This time he can't hold it. He gags wetly over his palm, slamming the fridge closed and make a run to the sink.

"Uuurrrkkk-", a mouthful of beige liquid splattering over the sink. He gasps, as another stream immediately following after. He could see remnants of rice he ate this morning there.

He closes his eyes tight, swallowing down another wave of nausea as he breathes heavily.

But it didn't do much as his shoulder rolls again, gurgling up more of vomit from his lips. He grunts, holding his hand tightly onto the counter as his body keeps pitched forward with every heave he let out. The mess on the sink keeps getting bigger and bigger as his mouth can't stop pouring out a mouthful of vomit with each jump of his stomach.

He could feel how hard his chest heaved, as his head started pounding along with it.

He felt lightheaded now. He feels like he gonna faint.

And just like in time, Hyuna starts crying.

Gosh, he feels like crying too ..

" Hyuna ..", he croaks out, still having his head dived into the sink. "Wait baby .. appa is not feeling good", he manages to say as calmly as possible, hoping it'll calm her, before he pukes again in the sink, only to find nothing other than bile come out. He closes his eyes, and chokes a sob.

He feels overwhelmed.

Yoongi fishes his phone, placing it near the sink on speaker mode, as he waits for the call to connect.

" Hyung? What is it? I need to come back to recording—"

Yoongi cuts Jimin off, "Can you come home soon?", he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

The line went silent for a moment before Jimin's voice broke, "Is everything okay?"

Yoongi turns on the faucet, grimaces at the sight of his food going down in the drain. "No .. i keep feeling sick. I'm not feeling well and Hyuna just—", he breaks off, shaking his head lightly, feeling how his entire being trembles with every shuddering breath he lets out.

"Okay, wait for me. I'm going home now", Jimin spoke, voice low and gentle with concern dripping from his words.

Yoongi nodded, " Thank you", he whispers before the call ended.

Yoongi stood there for a while, just standing there with tears streaming down his face, before turning his body and back to his baby, that now hiccupping with little sobs.

"I'm sorry baby, now, let's eat, hm?", he says in a hushed tone, as he reaches out and grabs her plate.

He picks her up, wiping her cheek with one sleeve before walking to the couch.

" Yoongi hyung? Baby?", Jimin calls out, slightly panting after running from the parking lot to their apartment. His heart still beating fast with worry.

Silence.

He shakes his shoe and coat off, slowly walking to Hyuna's bedroom. He finds the door open slightly.

Jimin opened the door and smiles when he found his baby sleeping comfortably in her crib. He placed a quick kiss on her chubby cheeks, before he realized that the bathroom light is on.

That's not what surprised him.

But the sound that comes from there.

"Hyung? You there?", Jimin knocks. Only get a faint gasp before the sound of liquid rushing to the toilet bowl.

His eyes widened as he tried to open the door. Luckily, his boyfriend did not lock it.

" Hyung!", he says again as he enters the bathroom. His heart skipped a beat when he sees Yoongi hunched forward, hands gripping the rim of the toilet bowl with tears running down his face, a mixture of light brown and white substance in the bowl, and his stomach contents, spilling from between his parted lips. The elder groans at the sight of Jimin entering.

"Jimin-ah", he manages to breathe out. Tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

" Hyung! What happened?", Jimin crouched beside him, moving his palm to rub his boyfriend's sweaty back as the latter slumped, resting his head on the toilet seat.

"I don't know.. i keep feeling so sick", he hiccups. Eyes closing shut tightly at the thought of throwing up again, the taste of vomit coming into his thoughts.

Jimin pulls Yoongi close against him, stroking his back gently, rubbing his shoulders as Yoongi sobs quietly. " 'm so tired"

"I know.. i'm sorry hyung. I should've take a day off", Jimin said softly, leaning closer to press a kiss to Yoongi's temple. He doesn't even realize himself that his hand moved from Yoongi's shoulders to card his fingers gently through his bangs.

" 's okay", Yoongi mumbles, opening his eyes. " 'm sorry you had to deal with me and come home early. I feel really bad. 'm just afraid if i faint"

"Don't apologize hyung", Jimin says softly. He shifts his position slightly so he could see the elder. " You're fine, sweetheart. I love taking care of you", he adds. Taking the older appearance in.

He looks adorable. With his hair disheveled, his cheeks flushed, and eyes red with tear tracks still staining them.

" I'm here now", Jimin mutters as he tried to steal a kiss. Yoongi groans and pull himself away, "Ngghhh, don't .. i'm going to—", his words cut off as he turns his body to the toilet, gagging again.

Jimin winces and holds Yoongi's hair back, rubbing soothing circles against his scalp as he retches once more.

" My kiss makes you puke, hm?" Jimin teases after Yoongi seems calm enough. The older sniffles, as he flushes the toilet and walk to the sink to rinse his vomit-tasted mouth.

" You're gross, why do you want to kiss me after i throw up", Yoongi laughs weakly, as he brushes his teeth.

"Because", Jimin murmurs. He leans against the sink, staring at the older, "You always taste nice, hyung". And if the fact that those words come out as soft and sweet made Yoongi blush, well.

" You're such a sweet talker"

"You love it", Jimin grins, pinch the older cheeks that earning a slap from the older, " Now let's get you to bed. Hyuna seems like she's not gonna wake up soon. Its time for you to rest as well"

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #sick!yoongi #caretaker!jimin

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retroellie · 3 years

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Dating Ellie Williams Headcannons

Summary: Headcannons for dating ellie

A/N: Have this because my last imagine was ass... I think i like writing headcannons way more than imagines lmao

Warning: TLOU2 spoilers, Mentions of death, PTSD, and NSFW/dirty talk

Word Count: 1.8k

- She fell in love with you when she first saw you

- She had just come to Jackson after the incident with the fireflies

- You being around the same age as her tommy asked you to show her around and tell her what’s what

- “Ellie this is Y/n, Y/n this is ellie.” Tommy introduced y’all

-Her heart stopped when she saw you, she couldn’t help the blush that was forming.

-She couldn’t stop looking at you when you were talking about the shops and sights around Jackson

- It seemed like you were liked around town, you were friendly to everyone and everyone knew who you were

- She will never forget the thing you said to her when you guys were in front of her new home

-”Tommy told me a lot about you and i just want you to know, you're safe now.”

-She felt for the first time she could let go, relax for a minute

-You helped her move into the garage, trying to make her as comfortable as she could be

- She wrote about you a lot in her journal, writing poems and drawing pictures of you

-You guys hung out a lot with Jesse and Dina but she would much rather hang out with you alone

-You two had become really good friends by the time you guys were 16, i mean Ellie opened up to you more than she did anyone

-Opening up meaning talking about her interests and some of her favorite childhood memories

-She was honestly too scared to tell you about her immunity and even more scared to tell you about her past, afraid that she was gonna scare you away

-You introduced her to cat and you definitely regretted it because cat liked her

-When they started dating cat was definitely the third wheel because you and Ellie were so closer

-You held Ellies hand when she got her tattoo, she couldn’t hide the blush than but blamed it on the pain

-You guys shared the same love for music, you showed her most of the music she listened to

-You would sleep over at her place a lot

-You guys would watch movies, talk about space and dance horribly to old music

-Y’all could never get bored of each other

-When you spent the night at her place you would sleep in her bed with her but it was as friends, Ellie didn’t want you sleep on the floor and you didn’t want to force her out of her own bed

-Ellie would always get so embarrassed when you slept over, she would always go into a gay panic

-By the time y’all were 18, she was head over heels for you

-You two were still best friends but her feelings got in the way so she was distant

-It got to the point where she didn’t want to be with anyone else, it was either you or no one

-She didn’t really have time for relationships so she didn’t really mind it

-She would play guitar for you when you came over, even attempting to teach you

-Everything she owned was yours and everything you owned was hers

-”God damn it, where is my Walkman”

-”Oh, I took it. Mine broke.”

-Ellie bashed on everyone you liked, Little did she know you liked her

- You liked the boy who worked at the bar? She had something to say about him

-You found out she liked you when you two were dancing one night

-Your arms were wrapped around her neck and hers around your waist, it was like a scene from a movie

-You both felt the tension, it made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy

-”I’m just a girl.... not a threat.”

-”Oh ellie... I think they should be terrified of you.”

-Next thing you know her lips were on yours

-The kiss felt like it went on forever until you pulled away, panting for air

-No words exchanged just a smirk and her pulling you out of the church

-She didn’t waste anytime, She’s been waiting for this moment

-Now that you guys were together, you guys were too powerful

-You guys spent a lot of time in her garage, i swear you basically lived there

-You guys could spend hours tangled up together or have heated make out sessions that lead to so much more

-Soft kisses and 80s movies

-endless sex i swear this woman is going to be the death of me

-I have said this before but this girl is always horny, i mean she still has raging hormones so she’s always on top of you

-She tries to highlight her tattoo when pleasuring you because she knows it drives you crazy

-She loves when you sit in her lap, it’s both cute and hella sexy to her

-Her kisses make you lightheaded, like you gotta sit down for a minute after she kisses you

-She finds your body fascinating, like it sounds cringey but she love everything about you body

-She likes to explore your body a lot, like what gets the best reaction out of you

-She’s kinda new to sex, she’s had a fling or two but nothing long term so now she really has to get this shit down

-She’s the top, i said what i said

-Joel has walked in on you two lots of times

-”Hey elli... OH FUCK. SORRY, I’m sorry.” He says while covering his eyes

-You both have to stop for a minute just to laugh your asses off

-Y’all were really loud too so like y’all got complaints a lot

-”Sorry, Y/n came over for a minute.” Ellie says busting through the door

-”Yeah i know, i heard y’all.” Joel joked

-She makes really bad cheesy pick up lines to you

-”You know I’m jealous of your heart, because it’s pumping in and out of you and I’m not.”

-”I’m literally gonna break up with you.’

-She never fails to make you laugh

-Her with her fucking puns mama, you can’t hide from her silly side

-Joel is a proud dad, he loves his lesbian daughter and her girlfriend

-Later on into the relationship ellie fully opens up to you

-You were tracing her tattoo one day, feeling the bumpiness of it

-”What happened?’

-She debated on telling you, Joel said not to tell anyone

-She gave in through, telling you about riley, her immunity, her and Joel's trip, even David

-She ended up crying, you’ve never seen her that broken down before

-You held her most the day, giving her all the kisses she needed

-When Joel died, you were basically always with her. Not wanting to leave her alone

-You were the one that found them. You shook ellie awake, Letting her sob into your shirt

-You brought her home, she could barely move. She was in so much shock and pain

-You cleaned her up and took days off of rounds just to lay in bed with her all day

-The nights were the worst

-She would wake up in tears, sweat drenched her body. She would bury her face into her chest, crying her eyes out

-”I saw him. All the blood..”

-”I know baby, it’s okay. I’m here.”

-you guys were still so in love with each other at 20, maybe even more if that was possible

-The trip to Seattle and trying to kill Abby really brought y’all even closer, seeing sides of each other you guys never had

-The fear and the defeat you both felt on that trip, it made ellie more in love with you that you stayed

-You two lived in a small farmhouse after the trip to Seattle, it was nice and quiet

-You lived like two cottagecore lesbians out in the middle of nowhere, it was a good change

-Ellie would love to paint you with flowers, she found that you and flowers together created a perfect masterpiece

-Ellie was kinda a city girl so you had to teach her a lot of stuff, you mostly read books about farms because you didn’t have a clue either

-You guys lived without pants, like no one was there to see y’all, no one to impress so like fuck it, who needs pants

-Ellie loved waking up to you in the kitchen, with messy hair and nothing but her t-shirt on.... Yes please

-To save water y’all would take baths together, it mostly always turned into bath sex

- Ellie was glued to your side, like wherever you went she was there with you

-She was very distracting, always kissing up your neck or moving your hips on hers

-I swear this woman was distracting without meaning to be

-When she was doing farm work and her tattoo would stand out, it made you want to jump on her every single time

-Sex with her back then was great but sex with her now was so much better

-She really matured a lot, she knew what she wanted and just how to do it

-Your pleasure came first to her, she loved the feeling of being able to pleasure you

-Don’t worry, you didn’t leave her out. You made sure she felt just as good as you

-She wasn’t shy so dirty talk was her thing

-”Just one more time baby, i wanna see you cum on my fingers one more time.” I’m so gross im sorry AHDS

-She would fuck you on literally everything in the house

-No one was near to hear y’all and y’all could do it anywhere and at anytime, it was fucking heaven for y’all

-Y’all were together a lot and although ellie loved it, she knew you liked your alone time

-She would go into her painting room and play guitar or draw, doing anything to keep her busy

- After a hour or two went by you would come in and sit on her lap, hinting that you were getting a bit lonely

-You were always there for her when she went through her attacks, telling her it was going to be okay and you were here with her

-”Y/N! I- I can’t.. can’t breath.”

-”Ellie baby, you're okay. just keep taking deep breaths for me, okay?”

-Seeing her like this broke your heart but you were nothing but patient with her, she was really thankful for that

-You never talked about joel or even riley, you knew those were sensitive topics so when she did talked about them you listened and allowed her to rant

-”You know, I think Riley would’ve really liked you.”

-”You think so?”

-”Yeah, she would’ve liked your weird taste in music.’

-Ellie dreamed about what it would've been like in a normal world

-She could see you two meeting at a movie theater, hitting it off and eventually getting married, Maybe adopting a kid or two

-She was so in love with you, no matter what you looked like or what your body type was. She loved you

!Credits to gif owner!

#the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us x reader #Ellie Williams #ellie williams x reader #tlou ellie

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bakugoulovesme · 3 years

Text

Bakugou x Reader

Title: Long Story Short

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, various pro heroes (mentioned), original character (who is not the reader)

Word Count: 2,783

Warnings: mentions of toxic ex, passing out, hospital visits (dw it’s all good), gross fluff

Summary: You had a terrible breakup that made you stop hero work. Now, three years later, you are dating Bakugou Katsuki and you jump back in the saddle.

A/N: Pro hero au! Lmao guys be nice I haven’t written a full fic since 2018.. oof... request headcanons pleeeaaaseee <3 (OOOH OOOH also this is the first of a very tentative series of stories based on Taylor Swift’s albums Evermore and Folklore,, AND this was crossposted on ao3)

You told yourself never again on a night much like this one, three years ago. You remember it all very distinctly. Nyx had already promised you a change of pace, somewhere as far away from him as you could get. They were standing behind you on the rooftop, a good few paces back. It was considerate, really: giving you space so that you could have your moment of dramatic catharsis. You remember bouncing on your toes once before sparring a glance over your shoulder at them. The blank motorcycle helmet that was a staple of their hero costume stared back at you, emotionless. They offered you a single nod. You turned forward again, facing the wind. You turned the ring over and over in your hand for a few more minutes, longer than you wanted to. It seemed cliché to you even then, when the wound was still so fresh, to get rid of the ring in such an over the top way. But damn, if it didn’t feel absolutely amazing.

And tonight you are standing atop the roof of that twenty-story building again. And Nyx, lovely Nyx, is standing behind you with their expressionless motorcycle helmet boring into your soul and their harrowing silent wisdom making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I’m not so sure that I’m ready,” you say after a beat. Your hero costume feels strikingly familiar and foreign all that at the same time. You play with the waistband of the jumpsuit absentmindedly.

“I am,” they say as if it is the easiest thing in the world. Don’t they know how hard this is? Shouldn’t they of all people understand? “And he is, too.”

They got you. They always do.

You heave a sigh—no turning back now. You take a deep breath and remind yourself that you can do this, that you are in fact a capable hero. Three years. You haven’t done this in three years.

Fuck. Can you do this? What if…

“I know what you're thinking,” Nyx says, allowing emotion to seep into their tone for the first time tonight. “And, I hate to break it to you, but… you are already doing it.”

“This is barely a patrol,” you grumble.

“Not a traditional one, no, but remember you’re still in your trial period. You are technically only my sidekick right now.” You don’t need to see the expression Nyx is wearing to be certain that they are smiling.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

The universe does not leave you much time to wallow in self-pity. Less than half an hour later, there’s a call. A building is collapsing. The number four hero, Edgeshot, has already taken care of the villain responsible, so it is time for clean-up duty: your specialty. All in a matter of thirty seconds, you shove your helmet onto your head (it matches the one Nyx sports; all of their sidekicks wear them) and run to grab onto Nyx as they teleport you to the scene. Gone is the gentle night air; here, everything is hot. The villain must be using some quirk-enhancing drug. (The damage they caused in their dragon form puts Ryukyu to shame.) Several voices chatter into your ears at once filling you and Nyx in. Nyx was gone the second they dropped you off, working as fast as they could to teleport people out of the upper floors of the building.

Adrenaline pushes you forward but you are stopped quickly, debris already blocking your path into the ground level of the building. Luck must be on your side tonight because you can see the number two hero, Hawks, fly in as he uses his feathers to aid in the evacuation. You feel comfortable enough to ask Nyx through the helmet to get you inside. And they do. You could not imagine how disorienting it must be for them because, after just your second leap of the night, you are incapacitated for at least fifteen seconds.

When the world rights itself again, you realize you have already put your shield up to protect yourself from the smoke. It does not take long to find the group of survivors to the left of you, trying—and failing—to break out of a crumbled window. You see eighteen at first glance, but as you approach, you can see a group of children, four of them all huddled together. Twenty-two, then. You drop your shield as you approach them. “Help is here,” you inform them, attempting to keep your sentences short so your helmet will translate them faster.

“Now, everyone remain calm. Everything will be okay.” Any doubts you had earlier have been seared away. You are met with thankful sobs and incoherent clambering. You direct them to stand around you, as close as they can fit. The children are lifted into their parent’s arms as everyone scrambles forward. As soon as all twenty-two are comfortably within range, you activate your quirk again. One of the children lets out an awed gasp at the buzzing bubble of blue energy that has formed.

You find yourself smiling.

“What do we do now?” An older woman asks incredulously, her entire body shaking in fear.

“We wait.” She opens her mouth to retort, but you continue. “Once the upper floors of the building and the surrounding block are completely evacuated, I will get us out of here.”

“Are you sure you can do it, Miss Hero?” A little girl asks. “My Daddy says heroes can’t really do anything...”

Her father has the decency to look horrified, but you just laugh. You crouch down to make eye contact with her, “I’m very sure I can do it. Do you wanna know why?”

She leans away from her father slightly, turning towards you with her eyes full of stars. It takes you a second to reply as you get the go-ahead that everything is clear. Perfect.

“Because… you are going to help me, of course!” You exclaim, removing your helmet. This forces you to use the translator that you wear around your neck which is not as loud (or clear), but you think it’s a good trade-off. The adults (and the other children) who were momentarily distracted hearing you speak to the little girl will need the comfort of a human face for the next part, this much you are sure. You gesture for the girl to be put down and you take her hand in one of your glowing ones. A little boy wriggles out of his mother’s grasp and grabs your other hand. You beam.

“Now you two have a very important job: you have to keep everyone brave!”

“How we s’posed to do dat?” The boy asks.

“Simple. You will walk with me in the front, okay? We can even sing a little song so everyone knows to keep walking,” you explain with a smile, more genuinely happy than is probably appropriate. The other children wrestle themselves out of their parent’s arms and grab their hands fiercely, ready to help drag them along. The pair holding your hands only take a minute to consider before nodding solemnly.

The boy leads the little marching tune as you calmly begin leading everyone towards the front of the building. It’s at the moment that your shield touches the front wall that the building comes down. Hard.

So much for raining small chunks, the full weight of the building crashes down around you. It makes you lightheaded, but you force yourself not to show any distress. You just keep walking, hunks of the building being forced out around the bubble. Suddenly though, something smacks into your shield from the inside and you lurch forward. Your eyes screw shut as you focus completely on regaining control.

“Daddy!” The little girl yells as she pushes past the group to reach her father, still frozen in shock against the farthest side of the bubble. You didn’t even feel her drop your hand... Before you can contemplate the fate of your other small charge. The boy squeezes your hand tight. You turn to look at him and smile. One hand grips yours and the other grips a younger girl, his sister you presume, who is latched onto their mother, as well.

You are more out of it than you realize because in no time at all, the girl is back holding your hand, dragging her father behind her. He looks sickly pale. Deep breath. “Everything’s okay. Almost over. Everyone please just keep being brave for me,” you say, squeezing the kids’ hands.

You close your eyes again and put everything you have into walking normally. Pushing. Pushing. It feels like you let the smoke in; there doesn’t seem to be enough air for you. You can’t remember feeling this tired, at least not in a long time. Just as you reach your limit—when you are certain you are going to fail to leave all these people to get tragically smushed—there is loud cheering. Huh?

You force your eyes open. Floodlights. People. Ambulances. Reporters descending upon the lot of you, now that the danger has passed. You can finally breathe. You drop the shield and fall to your knees.

Hmm. The ground is warm, and a lot more comfortable than you could have ever imagined. Your last thought before you blackout completely is a barely coherent image of cats rolling around on the warm concrete.

All you can hear is his voice.

For a second, the sound tricks you. You must be in your bed, at home. The heart monitor comes in second. A wave of nausea hits you as the disorientation sets in. You try to open your eyes but decide against it immediately. You don’t think your eyelids so much as fluttered, how could they when they weigh a thousand pounds each?

His voice is what grounds you again, makes you feel more centered. You think you might even be able to tell which way is up. You can hear him but you can’t hear him. Your brain is much too full of mush at the moment to hear anything with clarity. Everything feels sloshy; even still you attempt to move your hand towards the sound of his voice. As soon as you begin moving, his hands have met yours and his voice is softer. You still can’t hear him but you can feel him. His hands, as always, are hot and sweaty. You had always thought your hands were the hottest and the sweatiest, that is until you met Bakugou.

“Ka-” you try to speak but your voice is much too hoarse from disuse.

“Teddy bear,” you can finally hear him, “are you okay?”

You rumble in agreement and make a great effort to move your head in a gentle nod. He makes you regret agreeing all within a second. Now he is yelling and your eyes are all but forced open at the sound of it.

“Katsuki,” you groan.

“What the fuck were you thinking running into a collapsing building, dumbass? You’re still just a fucking sidekick.”

You huff feeling a little more like yourself the longer you hear him talk. “That’s just a technicality.”

“Regardless, I…” Katsuki lets out a deep growl, “you fucking scared me, teddy bear.”

“I’m sorry, Katsu” is all you can think to say as he cups your cheek and leans forward to rest his forehead against your own. You revel in the closeness, even the skin of his forehead is hot against you.

“I hope you know you aren’t off the hook, idiot, but I am really proud of you,” the glare he fixes you with doesn’t match his words.

You can’t stop yourself from beaming.

“So, how much time before you get back to being that dumbass’s sidekick?” He asks as he spares a glance from the road to look at you leaned up against the window in the passenger's seat.

“I should be good to go by Monday, believe it or not.”

The look he gives you tells you he doesn’t.

“I’ll call the doctor if you want,” you insist. You ignore the rush of nausea that hits you as you sit up and give him an indignant look.

He rolls his eyes. He takes a hand off the wheel to push you gently back so you’re resting against the window again. You sigh in relief at the feeling of the cool glass on your cheek. You can see him worry his lip a bit before he bites out, “I believe you.”

“Hmm I don’t know about that,” you start, “but, I meant it when I said me being a sidekick is just a technicality. I was a big hero before I ever came to Japan and met you.”

He huffs. Regardless, he nods his head in agreement. He does know that you were a big hero. An annoyingly selfless one too, that’s what got you hurt in the first place. He doesn’t say anything more though, he’s happy enough to let you fall asleep with the words to some stupid song on your lips. Even if he wasn’t driving he would be wide awake. Seeing you fall to the ground like that made him sick.

He shudders. He really thought he was ready for you to start hero work again, but… Seeing you like that was a lot to handle. Almost too much. He knows it’s hard for you too. You’ve had to watch him throw himself into danger countless times at this point. He hasn’t figured out how you handle the stress with such grace. He can practically see the look you would give him if he said that to you, he can practically hear your voice assuring him that the way you handle it is anything but graceful. Why is he imagining this conversation? He could be having it with you. It’s not like you’re dead or--

“Katsu, you’re going to get wrinkles if all you do is frown all the time. You’ll look like my Grampy,” you laugh as his frown deepens, “Really, babe, what’s wrong?”

He replies immediately, “Nothing. We’re almost home.”

“I know, but don’t think you can escape a conversation about whatever this,” you gesture at him vaguely, “Whatever this is.”

He growls as he pulls into the parking garage for the apartment building, but he decides not to comment. Instead, he takes the opportunity to tease you and poke at your ribs as he helps you toward the door.

Walking mixed with the impromptu tickle fight leaves you weaker than you thought you would be. You almost eat shit in the elevator when he lets go of you for just a second to punch the button to your floor. “Fuck, baby, are you okay?” He launched toward you as soon as you wobbled, catching you with his strong arms around your waist securely.

You groan softly and bury your face in his chest as the elevator starts to move. “I am now,” you say muffled as you nuzzle your face against his pecs.

“Perv,” he spits out, pushing your face away while still keeping an arm around you to keep you upright. He has to drag you down the hall to your shared apartment because you are so stubborn: refusing to be carried while being virtually unable to walk. He knows that’s a large part of why he loves you so his griping is lighthearted.

He leads you to the couch and plops you down onto the cushions. “You stay here. I mean it. I’m going to make that dumb recipe your mom told me about,” he says. He turns shuffling off to find his apron.

Your stomach turns, but this time in a much more pleasant way. He’s so fucking cute sometimes it makes you sick. Warmth settles over you as you pull the burgundy throw blanket over your shoulders and lie your head down on the scratchy decorative pillows. Everything feels a million times more comfortable now that you are comparing it to the impersonal feeling of a hospital bed.

Well, now everything feels different. Hero work felt different. Talking to Nyx felt different. Waking up in a hospital bed too, didn’t feel as hollow as you remember. You know it’s because of the idiot you can hear maneuvering around the kitchen. He makes everything feel exciting, it’s nothing like before. The apartment is warm, and the couch is a lot more comfortable than you could have ever imagined. As you fall asleep for the first of many sorely needed naps you think of the yearly fireworks your town had as a kid and how alive you felt listening to them. In the other room, Katsuki sparks off a mini-explosion to light the stove.

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starwrite-er · 4 years

Text

Kiiroibara - Tooru Oikawa x Reader (Hanahaki!AU)

AO3

Summary:

It’s bittersweet, seeing the guilt in his eyes.

I want him to love me the way I love him, and I know he would never wish this fate upon me. He’s a good friend, after all.

But my lungs are aching and I am dying, and a little part of me wishes he suffers the pain he’s caused me too.

❀

The sun is setting as I return home, and I find myself happy.

Bumping shoulders with one of my teammates - Hana Satou - we exchange gossip, the academic year still relatively new, offering fresh stories. It’s our last; we might as well spend it giggling.

The conversation flits from classes to classmates, from practice to rivals, from captain to captain.

“He’s pretty, but he’s so vain! Even if he’s good at what he does, I’m still surprised he landed captain,” Hana says. “You’re actually friends with him - you have to deal with his attitude all the time!”

“Nah, he’s kinda insufferable, but I love him really.” I laugh, punching my friend’s shoulder lightly. She snickers along with me, rolling her eyes.

I clear my throat. And then again. Hana glances at me, giving an odd look, so I make my final cough as dramatic as possible.

She laughs. I would too, but there’s something stuck to my tongue-

My blood runs cold.

“[Y/N]? You okay?”

My friend has stopped a few steps ahead of me, looking back with a concern-laced expression. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying desperately to keep myself from panicking.

I pluck the object from my mouth. I crack open my eyes. My bag thumps to the ground as I catch sight of the petal.

I follow soon after, falling hopelessly to my knees as I clutch the yellow petal, unable to tear my gaze away even as my vision blurs and I begin to hiccup. I’m vaguely aware of shoes pounding on the ground before arms wrap around me.

This makes no sense. I’ve never even considered that kind of attachment. How could this be happening?

I wail.

I don’t love him. I can’t love him. He’s one of my closest friends, I’ve never felt like that before. I can’t love him, I can’t-

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Hana stokes my hair, cooing empty reassurances to me as I cling to her, trying to drown out my inaudible ramblings with her own voice. There’s a tremor in her words. She’s crying too. She’s scared. “We can fix this. You’ll be okay.”

I acknowledge the hollow feeling in my chest, the nausea that claws its way up my throat.

“You’ll be okay.”

I almost want to laugh, hysterical.

“You’ll be okay.”

No, I won’t.

The yellow petal is crumpled in my grip, shadowy lines and creases marring its former beauty.

What the fuck it that supposed to symbolise anyway?

❀

I start to pick my words more carefully from that point onward. One petal was enough to send me spiralling, but maybe - just maybe - it was a fluke, a side-effect of me joking about loving him. If I refuse to believe I’ve been afflicted, maybe it won’t continue.

A voice in the back of my mind hisses at me, berating my naive hope. I ignore it.

It was right, though.

The second I lay eyes on that stupid mop of brown hair I feel a scratch in my throat. I try to stifle it, try to stuff the feeling away. It just makes it worse, and the petal comes spurting out my mouth anyway.

I conceal it before it’s noticed.

“You okay?” Iwaizumi raises a brow at me.

“Yeah, just think I’m coming down with a cold or something.”

A brief pause. “It’s late spring.”

I falter and shrug, playing the comment off. “Beats me. Must have allergies or something.”

That’s the end of the conversation.

❀

I feel Hana’s worried gaze burning holes in my blazer wherever I go.

I ignore her and the tickling in my throat. I don’t need her concern, I can handle myself. This isn’t a problem.

❀

It’s okay, I’ve decided. Uncomfortable, but okay. I really am fine. The initial breakdown when I realised what was happening to me was the worst part, the hardest hurdle to get over, but Hana was right. It is okay. I can handle a petal or two a day. This is liveable. I’ve adjusted over the past fortnight.

Yeah, I realise that’s a fucking lie when I see his stupid charming grin, playing the part for his admirers.

Smack.

I lose myself in the repetitive serve drills, tossing ball upon ball into the air and hitting them until my palm feels raw.

Smack.

They’re not the ones hacking up rose-filled lungs. Their infatuation means nothing. They haven’t truly been by his side over the years the way I have.

Smack.

God, then why does it hurt so much?

“[Y/N]-chan! I thought I heard someone in here-“

“Fuck off.” My words are so sharp, so cold, I myself am taken aback. I glance for a mere second at Oikawa in the doorway, finding him wearing an uncharacteristically surprised expression. I feel a seed of guilt needling at my conscious but don’t speak up.

The last volleyball bouncing to a still is the only sound in the gym as I take my leave.

❀

I stare at the petal caught between my fingers for a beat longer before shoving it away, out of sight and almost out of mind.

“Iwaizumi?”

“Yeah?”

“D’you know what yellow roses mean?”

He blinks at my strange question, a flicker of suspicion passing over his face. “No-“

“Why are you asking him? It’s not like he’s the one getting flowers.” I suck on my teeth at Oikawa’s interjection.

“Okay then, do you know what yellow roses mean?”

A pause. He shrugs nonchalantly. “Nope.”

I glare at him. How is he the reason I’m-

No, thinking like that is no help.

“Stop being a prick.” Iwaizumi says with a swift smack to the back of Oikawa’s head.

“Ow!” The setter pouts, rubbing the back of his skull and shooting his childhood friend a look before turning his attention. “Why the sudden interest in flowers anyway, [Y/N]-chan?” I don’t answer, progressively getting more flustered as he leans into my personal space. It feels as though the closer his proximity, the more the rosebush in my lungs grows. His sly smile and lidded eyes don’t help. “Is there something we should know? A secret admirer, perhaps?”

I swallow thickly. “Something like that.”

I feel a burning in my chest. I can’t tell if it’s humiliation, unrequited love, or both.

Iwaizumi drags him away from me before I’m forced to elaborate. “Stop being weird, shittykawa.”

I take advantage of Oikawa’s moment of indignant distraction to cough up the rosebud in my throat.

❀

Beads of sweat tickle as they drip down my face, my eyes wide and heart pounding as the rally keeps going. We just need this one more point to win, but it’s turned into a seemingly never-ending stream of hits and call-outs.

The tone of the ball colliding changes. Wood rather than skin.

A painstaking beat passes.

The whistle blows and the scoreboard changes.

The Aobajohsai crowd erupts while our team is dragged into a happy huddle, victory firmly within our grasp. Grins and laughter accompany the congratulatory slaps on each others’ backs.

I struggle to catch my breath, smiling despite my aching lungs.

I glance around the gymnasium, feeling a pang of pity for the opposing team but a rush of pride surges through my veins as I see my schoolmates in the stand waving, beaming at us.

Next to them is the Aobajohsai boys volleyball team, and amongst them is a far too recognisable figure.

Catching sight of him, it feels like the roots have woven through my ribs and suddenly constricted, winding me, forcing the corolla from my deteriorating lungs.

My ears ring as I splutter, knees hitting the floor painfully. I grab at my shirt as if it’ll provide me any relief, tears spilling over and mingling with sweat as I heave. I’m barely aware of the panic surrounding me, my teammates yelling for help as someone slams my back to try and help dislodge the floral arrangement in my throat.

A vaguely conscious voice in the back of my mind notes how terrible yellow and red look against white and blue.

...Red?

For the first time, the yellow rose petals scattered around me are flecked with blood, staining my pristine uniform where they touch.

It offers a vile, unwanted moment of clarity.

It’s almost too late.

As I gasp for air, lightheaded, I begin to sob, clinging to myself as all the eyes in the room watch me.

“I- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to- it’s gross and-“

“How long?” The coach cuts me off. She sounds angry, but her eyes betray her fear.

“A few months-“

“Since the beginning of the academic year.” Hana cuts in. Tears mar her face. She clings to me, but I feel her hands trembling.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” The coach sounds furious.

“How could I?” I cry out. “I- I’m dy- I’m-“ I swallow thickly, dropping that attempted sentence. My words sound meek, foul on my tongue. “I can’t be in lo- I can’t. I’m not-“

“Who is it?” I glance up at the firm voice. The tremble in it is almost unnoticeable, but Iwaizumi’s fists are clenched and I know he’s trying so hard to hold it together. Guilt needles at my heart for causing those closest to me such grief.

Beside him is the root of the problem, disbelief written across his face.

I feel the corners of my mouth curl downwards.

“It doesn’t matter.” Every syllable is bitter, laced with resentment.

“Yes, it does!” Oikawa snaps. “Stop acting like you’re above us and either talk to them or cut the flowers out-“

He shuts up at the sound of my dry, sardonic laugh.

“Don’t,” I say. “Just, don’t. I don’t want to hear it from you.”

More of my tears spill over, and for those that heard me, it seems to click.

Iwaizumi sighs, closing his eyes. Oikawa is frozen in place. Hana tugs my arm lightly, a weak attempt to pull me away from the staring contest I’ve initiated with the man I’m apparently in love with.

“That’s why you were asking about yellow roses a while back,” Iwaizumi mutters. “I should’ve known-“

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I interrupt his self-berating. A strange calm has come over me now that my secret is finally out for all to see, in the form of a bloodied flower on the floor nonetheless. “Seriously. It’s my problem, not yours.”

Nobody wants to accept that, but there’s a helpless second of silence. It’s hard to argue when there’s no clearcut solution.

“What did they mean?”

I blink.

“What?”

“The flowers,” Oikawa’s voice is quite, but his gaze is unwavering. “What did they mean?”

A new wave of tears spring to my eyes. I try to wipe them away nonchalantly, as if speaking to him isn’t causing me immense pain. “Depends. According to Japanese tradition, they mean jealousy, which... well, it’s not entirely inaccurate,” I shrug, feeling as though I’m confessing my sins. I always did wish I was as fine a setter as he is. “But in the west, yellow roses mean friendship and devotion.”

It’s bittersweet, seeing the guilt in his eyes.

I want him to love me the way I love him, and I know he would never wish this fate upon me. He’s a good friend, after all.

But my lungs are aching and I am dying, and a little part of me wishes he suffers the pain he’s caused me too.

❀

My condition accelerates after that unspoken rejection. Over the coming weeks I find everyone’s eyes seemingly following me wherever I go, hushed whispers of pity and fear accompanying their gaze. There’s always a bloody tissue in my pocket. There’s always thorns scratching at my throat.

I’m kept under near constant surveillance. Everyone begs me to have the plant removed.

Nothing changes. He still doesn��t love me, even if I’ve accepted I love him.

At first my denial kept me from taking that course of action, but now I think I just don’t care enough anymore.

It’s an interesting way to go, at least. A tragedy, of course, but still not the norm. I find a vague comfort in this.

People will remember me.

❀

I’m so, so tired of the pity I’m constantly presented with.

More than ever, I don’t want it now. Not when his silence speaks volumes.

He swallows thickly. “I’m-“ He inhales deeply, steeling his nerves I assume. It’s not like him to appear this... weak. “I’m sorry.”

I stare at him blankly. He stares back. If he’s expecting an answer - which he presumably is - he doesn’t show it.

I shrug.

“It’s not your fault.”

“But it is-“ There’s an edge to his voice and he catches himself. “If I just did something, you wouldn’t be-“

“You don’t love me, and that’s not your fault. It’s not your fault I love you, either. We can’t change it.” My interjection is soft-spoken, reassuring.

But my jaw is clenched. I shouldn’t be the one comforting him right now.

He swallows his words again, tears welling up and spilling over and I almost roll my eyes.

Then he gently takes my hands in his and squeezes them, and with a pang in my core I recognise his sincerity. Years of unconditional friendship doesn’t just vanish, and assuming he’s just trying to clear his conscious before I go is a stupid thought. I of all people should know his motives better than that. Guilt nestles itself amidst the thorn bush woven into my chest.

Ignoring it is easier though.

Acknowledging it just makes things hurt.

❀

I’m alone when it happens.

I cling to my poetic end when I realise this is where I coughed up the first petal. Unlike then, there is no one to comfort me, to assure me things will be okay. I pushed everyone away in a vain attempt to protect myself from the inevitable, and devotion only goes so far.

It’s better this way. Less traumatic. Nobody’s memory of me needs to be marred by the image of petals, blood, and bile spilling from my lips, my face fading from red to purple as I struggle to breath, eyes bloodshot and weeping. My knees and palms scrape against the concrete, nails clawing at my throat.

The acrid taste pervades my senses - stomach acid burning my mouth and the metallic tang of my own blood staining my tongue. It’s vile, it’s bitter, and it hurts, and it’s exactly how I feel about this situation, about my final moments. It’s not fair.

My vision is patchy, darkening, a vignette cast over a golden world.

The sun is setting as I struggle to recover, and I find myself resentful.

#hi yeah quick question when tf was the line break option removed #god i havent posted on tumblr in eons lmao i p much only stick to ao3 nowadays #my work #hanahaki!au #haikyuu #oikawa #tooru oikawa #oikawa x reader #reader insert #tooru oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader

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tightaroundthewebshooter · 4 years

Text

love everything you do

Frank Castle/Amy Bendix

nff. 1.1k. no warnings. title and lyric from Training Wheels by Melanie Martinez.

read on ao3

(please note that Amys age has never been mentioned in either the comics or the show. I’ve made her 19 based on Giorgia Whighams age when filming)

_____________________

(when you call me fucking dumb for the stupid shit i do)

Frank likes Amy. Likes her enough to let her stay with him, once all that nasty business with the Schultzes was finished. She’s sweet, a little sassy, with an odd sense of humor, but easy to get along with once they found common ground. But Lord Almighty she could be a fucking brat.

It starts small, a couple of weeks after they start living together, with her barging in at 2 am while he’s trying to sleep, flipping him off when he tells her to be quiet. that's not too bad, but it grows from there. She starts insulting him, yelling at him, leaving her messes for him to pick, eating his food, and snooping in his stuff. Her mood swings are horrendous, no rhyme or reason to them, he can never tell when she’s going to be nice or when she’s going to be a bitch. But the worst part is that she starts staying out later and later, refusing to answer his texts asking if she’s okay, forcing him to stay awake to make sure she comes home safe. Because he’s fucking worried about her.

It comes to a head weeks later, in the cold early morning. She hands him a cup of hot coffee and he thinks maybe today will be a good day, and then she looks him dead in the eye and tells him she spit in it. It’s not that terrible, but it’s gross, and inappropriate, and as far as he’s aware he did nothing to deserve it, and so he finally snaps.

“Why are you such a fucking cunt?” he growls, and she suddenly looks so upset he feels like he’s the one who did something wrong. He stops feeling bad when she starts hitting him. She’s knocking the coffee out of his hand and onto the floor, pounding onto his chest and yelling at him for what he called her. It doesn’t actually hurt, but it’s annoying and stupid and he’s fucking tired, so he grabs her wrists in his hand and pushes her away, much harder than he meant too, so her back hits the kitchen counter and he sees all the fight leave her body and tears well up in her eyes. Shit.

Before he can even try to apologize she’s lurching forward to hug him, burying her face in his chest as she starts to sob. The sudden change in mood is confusing, but he puts his arms around her and pets her hair in an attempt to soothe her. That just makes her cry harder, shaking in his arms, and Frank just doesn’t know what to do.

“I’m - I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please, I just wanted you to pay attention to me.” she sobs, and Frank is at a loss for words. He had thought they were getting along great, but he hadn’t thought about how Amy might be more sensitive than him, a little needier. He really does feel bad now, thinking about all the times he came home just to lock himself in his room and pass out, ignoring Amys offers of food, or to stitch him up.

“Fuck, kid, don’t cry. I’m not mad at you, I’m sorry too.” it’s hard for him to apologize, but it’s apparently the right thing to do, because Amys loud sobs slowly turn into quiet sniffles and she pulls back to stare up at him with wide, wet eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, shuts it just as quickly, and he can almost see the gears moving in her head as she leans up on her toes and-

Kisses him. It’s wet and off-centered and fast, but it’s definitely a kiss.

She pulls back quickly, but she doesn’t leave, just looks up at him, expectantly waiting for his reaction, eyes still shiny from tears. He hates himself for wanting to kiss her back, hates himself because he can’t say he’s never thought of her like this before. She looks so young, and she is. 19, still a teenager, she shouldn’t want this, and Frank shouldn’t be indulging her.

He kisses her back anyway, tells himself it’s for her, to make her happy, but it’s for him too.

He lets her set the pace, lets her deepen the kiss, and slip her tongue in his mouth, and press even closer to him. She has to pull back for air eventually, lips shiny and cheeks red, and Frank is so hard he’s lightheaded. He ignores it, grabs her by the back of her thighs, lifts her up and urges her to wrap her legs around him, and then makes his way to the couch, gently laying her down.

Her hands shake as she helps him get her shorts off, but they’re pretty steady when she grabs his hair and pulls his head between her legs. He goes happily, uses his hands to hold her open, and gets to work. She’s already wet, almost dripping, so he goes right to tasting her, licking in as far as he can until he hears her moan, before moving to her clit, switching between lapping at her and gently sucking, not letting up until she starts to babble and squirm around.

She’s close, so he slides two fingers into her, curling them up to hit her g-spot, sucking harder on her clit while he does it, and it’s only a few seconds before shes coming, thighs squeezing around his head and cunt bearing down on his fingers.

The moment she relaxes he’s pushing himself up and unzipping his pants, grunting in relief when he gets his cock out. Amy looks like she’s about to fall asleep, but he grabs her hand and guides it to his cock anyways, showing her how to squeeze and twist her hand to bring him off.

She catches on quick, and when he tells her he’s close she pushes her shirt up and angles his cock to her belly, and he comes so hard his vision goes white.

By the time his breath is caught and his sight is back to normal Amy is asleep underneath him, shirt still pushed up and stomach covered in his cum. They need to talk about this, soon, but Amy looks more relaxed than she has in weeks, and he’s tired too, from the fight and the fuck, so he carefully lowers himself on top of her, and lets himself rest with his face tucked against her neck. The guilt is starting to creep in, but he forces it down, telling himself that the only thing that matters is Amy being happy. They’ll work it out.

#nff #my writing #frank castle/amy bendix #the punisher #amy bendix #frank castle

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wizardcorez · 4 years

Text

soothe me daily

*trigger warning: eating disorder. do not read this to trigger yourself*

Keith slips into some bad eating habits but everyone helps him get better. Klance happens towards the end. Also available on ao3 (@idiottwizard)

It had started innocently enough.

Keith had put on a little weight, maybe he had been eating too much or maybe it had been muscle mass but it still showed up on the scale as 10 more pounds on the monthly check-ins they were made to do, and that gave him a weird sick feeling in his stomach. That sick feeling lasted into the night, skipping dinner with the other paladins entirely.

The next day he trained harder than he usually did, until he could feel his muscles burning. He didn’t stop until he thought he might collapse, knowing that would just cause the team to worry.

Today he showed up to dinner, at least, but when his eyes landed on the food he got that sick feeling again and he wanted to gag. He mostly played with the food, just telling the team he felt sick again, taking at least a few bites to ease their worries. Even if the food stuck in his throat and he struggled to swallow he told himself and the others that he must have just caught the space flu or something similar.

After dinner, he left to train again, fighting the sparring robot until very atom of his bing felt like lead weights. Even then, when he thought he couldn’t push himself any further he did, despite feeling lightheaded from whatever made him sick.

Keith weighed himself on his own the next morning, staring in shock as he was already several pounds down. That couldn’t be healthy, he thought, but he didn’t question it, just happy to be on his way to his normal and healthy weight.

A week passed. The sick feeling didn’t go away.

The other paladins were worried, he was more fatigued during training and they feared that he may slip up in battle. They also noticed how little he was eating, never fully missing a meal but never eating more than three bites and then claiming he was full. They didn’t say anything, not to Keith’s face, at least, but he could hear the hushed whispers as he left the dining hall to train every day.

He didn’t understand why they were so worried, honestly. He could keep it under control.

At the next weigh-in, Keith was underweight by a decent amount. Keith brushed it off. Shiro didn’t let it go. Shiro told Keith he needed to eat. Keith told him he had been, and he had, he wasn’t lying, but the light snacking and few bites at dinner weren’t enough, Keith worked that off within a half-hour of his training and would always train for several hours more after that.

Keith insisted he was fine, but everyone was obviously worried about him. He would yell when he saw them giving him those pitying looks. He was a paladin of Voltron, he didn’t need their empathy.

A few days later Keith was flat on his back in the training room, his breathing ragged. He stood on shaky legs, his vision going black for a solid thirty seconds but he just pretended he could see. Another round with the sparring robot and he was on his back again, coughing into his hand. He tasted blood but kept going.

When he stood after that, he fainted. Hunk and Lance found him, he wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours after he fainted but he assured them he had just stood up too fast.

They didn’t believe him. Worry was evident on both of their faces but this time he didn’t yell, he just let them carry him to the infirmary. In the back of his mind, he knew he wasn’t okay but he put on a brave face, mostly for the sake of his team. Hunk left to find Shiro and the rest of the team, leaving Keith with lance in a heavy silence.

“You know we care about you, right?’ Lance said softly.

“I know,” Keith hummed, staring at the ceiling as he laid back on the Altean hospital bed.

They sat in silence for another few moments before Lance spoke again.

“Do you know I care about you, Keith?” Lance’s voice was quiet.

“I just said I know you guys care,” Keith rested his hands over his chest as he spoke.

“No, Keith,” Lance sighed “I care about you. Not just as a teammate, not just as a paladin of Voltron.”

Keith just raised an eyebrow at that, not saying anything or taking his eyes off the ceiling.

“I care about you as a person,” Lance said finally, his voice cracking, which made Keith sit straight up, feeling his heart shatter seeing Lance crying.

Keith’s feelings towards Lance were complicated, to say the least. Lance had always pissed him off and annoyed him, sure, but he had an undeniable charm and he brought joy to any room he walked in, even Keith could admit that. Keith could even admit that Lance was handsome, without the shit-eating grin on his face at least. He had thought about Lance when he was alone, eyes slammed shut and breathing heavy, even, but he felt gross about it afterward. At times a brief thought of Lance kissing him crossed his mind but it was always pushed away before he could really think about it.

Keith hadn’t laughed much in the past few months but Lance could usually manage to make him crack a smile for at least a moment, even if he forced into a scowl before anyone could notice.

So maybe Keith had a soft spot for Lance, despite their rivalry. It hurt Keith to see Lance crying, especially over something like worrying about Keith. He almost wiped away Lance’s tear but caught himself before his hand reached his face, pulling him into a hug instead.

Lance cried harder and Keith squeezed him close, not really caring if he got tears or snot on him.

“I’m okay, Lance, shh,” he whispered, rubbing circles on Lance’s back, fighting back tears himself.

Seeing Lance like this made him realize how much he genuinely was cared about and it hit him like a truck, feeling guilty for yelling when anyone gave him those looks filled with pitty. The team really had just cared about him.

Keith broke, sobbing into Lance’s shoulder and taking fistfuls of his shirt. He isn’t sure how long they stay like that, clinging to each other and crying pathetically, but by the time Shiro and the others came in neither of them were crying anymore, though it had been evident that they were.

What happened next had basically been an intervention. Keith explained what happened, promising that he would try harder to eat more, not arguing when Shiro told him he couldn’t train anymore until he got his weight back up, knowing that Shiro knew what was best for him.

That night Keith ate a little more at dinner, wanting to get better for the sake of his team, and he could tell they were grateful for it.

When Keith was about to go to sleep there was a soft knock at his door, he opened it to reveal Lance, armed with a sheepish smile and some pillows and blankets.

“Can I sleep on your floor?” Lance asked quietly, to which Keith tilted his head.

“Sure, but why?” Keith asked

“It feels safer...I know you’re safe if I’m here.”

Keith didn’t say anything else but he opened the door more for Lance, letting him in and closing him behind him. He made sure Lance had a comfortable space on the floor, piling several layers of blankets so his back wouldn’t hurt before climbing into his own bed, staying close to the edge.

Both of them stared at the ceiling, not speaking even if they were both awake, and when Keith’s hand drooped off the bed Lance slowly intertwined their fingers. It didn’t take them long to fall asleep after that, and when they woke up their hands were still loosely holding each other.

Keith knew he was going to be alright.

It was hard, of course, but Keith got better. He still had his bad days, he still trained too hard sometimes, but everyone supported him through it all.

Lance kept sleeping on Keith’s floor, he kept holding his hand at night. At some point, he stopped sleeping on the floor, he complained just once about his back hurting and Keith started making him sleep on the bed with him, and Lance was okay with that.

After some time, they started holding hands during the day, under the table when Keith was struggling to get a meal down or when they were walking together and Lance would intertwine their hands.

They started kissing too, Keith made the first move but Lance swore it was the other way around.They made it official not too long after that. None of the paladins were surprised, and they were genuinely happy for the two of them.

Keith was proud of how healthy he was now, physically and mentally, and Lance was proud of him too. And knowing Lance was proud of him? That was the best feeling in the world for Keith.

#no beta we die like men #klance #klangst #keith kogane #keith voltron #lance mcclain #lance voltron #vld #voltron #hurt/comfort #hurtcomfort #angst

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accidentally-logince · 5 years

Text

Partners in Crime [2]

Heck yeah! Less than a week since the last chapter, I’m actually making progress!

Warnings for mentions of food, mentions of eating disorders (nothing explicitly said, just heavily implied) and crying. I think that’s everything but tell me if there’s anything else that you need tagged!

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

Winter couldn't bring himself to ignore Ronen. In the past, he'd always pushed away people that he grew attached to--maybe that was why he hung out with people who didn't care about him--but every time he refused to answer a text his chest hurt. He let out a a sigh, picking up his phone and rereading the messages that Ronen had sent him. Hey, wanna go out? Like hang out I mean, not like a date lol Winter? At the last message, Winter's heart gave a tug. He cast a quick glance at the clock: only noon. His dad wouldn't be home until eight. He tapped on the conversation. Sorry, I was busy for a bit I think I'd like to hang out Winter's fingers trembled over the keyboard, but before he sent the message he deleted it. It sounded too dorky. He re-typed it as We can go out, yeah. Then, before he could stop himself, he added I actually have something I wanted to tell you and hit send before he could rethink. His heart started pounding. Was he really ready to tell Ronen how he felt? Wait, but he probably liked girls. Why did Winter forget the possibility that Ronen was straight? ? And what's that Winter wasn't ready. Not just yet. He needed to figure out how to say it. I want to tell you in person. That should buy him some time. But what happened if Ronen thought he was gross? Oh, God, Winter could handle a rejection if they were still friends, but if he never got to see Ronen again? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Alright. I pick you up in an hour to go to the mall? Oh, and curse the way Winter's heart jumped at that. Yeah. See you then. The hour before Ronen picked him up mostly consisted of Winter staring at the ceiling as he lay on his bed, figuring out what he was going to say. Would he say sorry? No, he couldn't apologize. Not for being gay. It wasn't like he could help it. What happened if it became awkward? God, how did people come out? He wouldn't cry. Winter decided that and told himself very firmly. Whatever happened, he didn't want to cry over this., He didn't want Ronen to think he was scared of himself. Of being gay. Even if part of him maybe was. By the time one o'clock rolled around, Winter had decided on the words he wanted to use. How he would say them. He decided that his feelings for Ronen could wait; Winter didn't want to scare him off by coming out and then immediately saying he had a crush on him. No. Today was just coming out. He just needed to tell someone, and his journal pages were not enough of an outlet. If they were still friends afterwards, Winter could tell Ronen his feelings another time. It wasn't like there was a time limit. Or maybe there was, he didn't know. All he knew was that he was stressed, and he needed to not overwhelm himself. Winter took in a deep breath, steadying his trembling body like Ronen had showed him on that first day. When the knock finally came at the front door, Winter had calmed himself down. He was used to people disliking him, so really, it wouldn't change much if Ronen didn't accept him. It would hurt. It would definitely hurt, but it wouldn't be anything new. Plus, anything better than that would be a pleasant surprise. Winter rushed down the stairs, trying not to clutch the handle too hard with nerves as he swung the door open. "Ready to go?" "Yeah..." Today was the first day that Winter had seen Ronen since realizing his feelings--he'd tried to hide away so as not to scare Ronen off--and now it was hard not to pay attention to the warm smile that Ronen was looking at him with, or to stop his heart from jumping when he grabbed winter's hand to walk together to his bike, and oh jeez, Winter was going to have to hold onto him for the drive-- "Everything good?" Winter snapped out of his thoughts and nodded, putting on his helmet and climbing into the seat behind Ronen, wrapping his arms around him. His fingers curled in the fabric of Ronen's hoodie. The ride was over too soon, and Winter found that the nervous feeling in his stomach coiled tighter with each step they took. He'd committed to telling Ronen, and given that Winter was a terrible liar, he wouldn't be able to chicken out and make up something else to tell him. "Did you have something to eat before we came?" Winter almost didn't reply, too caught up in his thoughts. He said "no" absentmindedly, but realized what had come out of his mouth when Ronen grabbed his hand. "Let's grab lunch. This'll be the first time we eat together, right? I swear, I haven't seen you eat before. You guys have dinner after your dad gets home, right?" "Uh, yeah... yeah, when my dad gets home..." Ronen frowned, turning to face Winter. "Are you okay?" "I'm just, um..." Winter bit his lip. He was not good at lying, He settled on "nervous." "Nervous about what you wanted to tell me?" Ronen asked. "Yes," Winter agreed, a bit too fast. Lying was especially difficult when Ronen was looking at him like that, with genuine concern in his eyes. But then his expression softened. "It's okay. You can take all the time you need before you tell me. And if that means you never do, that's okay too. It's up to you entirely if you want me to know." Winter felt something warm sprout in his chest. Were people usually supposed to be this nice, or had he just gotten lucky when finding Ronen? "C'mon, let's get you something to eat." And like that, Winter's stomach dropped. "Oh, uh, it's okay, I'm not hungry." "But didn't you say you haven't eaten?" Ronen's brow furrowed. "Butterflies," Winter said, trying to cover his tracks. "In my stomach, just... nervous." Nerves gave people nausea. "It'll still be good to get a little bit of food into your system. It's not good for you to not eat anything all day." Ronen grabbed Winter's hand and they walked together to the food court, Winter trying to hide his shaky hand. Luckily the one in Ronen's own wasn't noticeably trembling. Winter was overwhelmed by all the colours and smells in the food court. With the overload, he barely heard Ronen ask what he wanted. "I never get fast food," Winter responded blankly. "Well, there's a bit of everything. Burgers, pizza, chicken, y'know." "Those are all so greasy." And full of calories, probably, Winter added in his head. "Just... you get something, I'm okay." Ronen frowned. "Are you sure you're doing alright?" Winter nodded tightly, but Ronen didn't seem satisfied. He pulled Winter away from the crowded area, walking slowly with him until they found a quiet, empty hallway, and Winter collapsed to the floor, head in his hands as he leaned against the wall. "I didn't want to ruin this," Winter whispers into his hands. "I'm sorry..." He felt lightheaded. More so than usual, This wasn't going how he wanted it to. "You didn't ruin anything, it's alright," Ronen said softly. "I'm just worried about you. Whatever it is that you want to say, it's bugging you. A lot. I need you to know that you don't have to tell me. If your nerves are because you feel like you have to, I promise you don't. I really don't want you to stress if you're--" "I'm gay." Ronen blinked, leaning back from where he'd been holding Winter gently by the shoulders. Winter was tearing up, and he tried desperately to blink the tears back as his eyes drifted away, ashamed of himself. "I'm gay," he repeated. "And I was scared to tell you, because I thought you would hate me. You're the first real friend I've had, and I really don't want you to hate me." "Winter..." "Please don't. I don't want pity." This wasn't going according to plan. Winter was nearly sobbing now, that was the one thing he didn't want. Everything was screwed up. And what was Ronen thinking right now? What was he going to say? "No, listen. I don't want to give you pity. I just wanted to say that you're really brave. You told me when you were scared, and I'm really proud." He wipes a tear from Winter's cheek, and he hopes Ronen doesn't notice the way that he almost chases the contact when Ronen's hand moves away. "Can I tell you a secret?" Winter nodded slowly. "I'm gay too." Winter's eyes went wide, and he lifted his head back up. "Wait, what? But you're so cool!" Then he stuttered out, "uh, I didn't mean, like, y'know, I'm just... I'm... going to shut up now." Ronen laughed, and it was the sweetest sound Winter had ever heard. He felt the tips of his ears heat up. "Well, I'm glad you think I'm cool," Ronen said jokingly. "I actually just figured out I was gay a little bit ago. But, yeah. Don't worry about it. I don't hate you, and I'm happy you trusted me enough to tell me." "Do you think we could go home?" Winter asked quietly. "I think I just want to relax right now." Ronen nodded, offering his hand for Winter to stand up with him. Maybe that didn't go how Winter expected, but he was happy with the end result. Winter collapsed onto his bed when they got back to his house. The clock told them it was half past two. "Can I make us something to eat?" Ronen asked. "My dad will notice if the kitchen is messy," Winter said. He saw Ronen opening his mouth to say something else, and he said, "I'll eat something today. Please don't worry." "Is there any way we could eat something without your dad knowing I was here? You really do need to eat, I know what it's like to be hungry." 'No you don't,' is the first thing that pops into Winter's head, but he pushes it away. "Give me a minute," he says instead. It had been awhile since Winter had searched through the cupboards like this. Force of habit from his childhood had him closing everything silently, even though he knew his dad wasn't home. He made sure to grab things that his dad wouldn't notice were gone--things that had too many pieces to count. He carefully filled a bowl, making a mental note to clean it out and put it back in its place before his dad got back. Winter heard a drawer closing as he opened his door, and found Ronen sitting on his bed. "What was that?" Winter asked, shutting the door behind him. "I was just looking around a little bit." Something seemed off about Ronen's smile, but Winter kept his mouth shut. Like Ronen had said before, Winter only had to tell him things if he wanted to, and Winter figured he should give that same respect to Ronen. He sat on the bed and put the bowl between them It was a mixture of random things; a sort of demented trail mix that he almost thought Ronen would get upset at him for, but when Winter took a couple small bits from the mix and ate them Ronen looked happy. "I'm probably not going to stay much longer, my parents want me home for dinner," Ronen says. "Promise you'll try to eat later too, okay?" A heavy feeling settled in Winter's stomach. Ronen didn't usually act like this, something was wrong. "You're not upset at me are you?" Winter asked softly. "No, of course not," Ronen said, and this time Winter could tell that his smile was sincere. The last half hour was spent chatting mindlessly as they both ate from the bowl. Winter took small bits, and in the back of his mind he was worried even that would be too much for him. He wanted to stop, but every time he ate something Ronen would give him this soft smile that Winter just wanted to see forever. Today had gone well. Winter was surprised that he'd been able to come out to Ronen--to anybody, really--just days after his realization. Maybe Ronen was right. Maybe he was brave. And by the time Ronen said goodbye and drove off, Winter was calm. Things were going well! And Ronen was gay! Of course, that didn't solidify anything, bu with the stress gone from Winter's body for now, he couldn't help hoping that maybe this meant he had a chance. Winter went back to his room, a soft smile settling on his face as he opened his drawer. He wanted to write in his journal, this was something that the pages would be enough for him. But when he flipped to the last page with writing on it, he found a passage written in unfamiliar black ink.

---

Tag List: @roman-sing-despacito @lovesupportandcookies @actiongirl2005 @ab-artist @internetwhy @obsessedwith83514 @zorakaseko @book-r-the-best @lee-knows-it @intrurality-fusion @thekeytohappiness-is-you @daenerysblackriddle @friendlyfatherfigment @sunflower-shitposts @brownie-aunt @dra-logan-w @superwholocked-for-life @ananonsplace @kcthestarkid @imforeveranoob @ts-famderartist @spellboundnora @deceitifullies101 @milkshakethouart @porcelain-dionysus @that-smol-tired-gay @king-cookiex @kristincarstairs09 @maeisatragicmultishipper @sharkkittem

#my ocs #my characters #ronen koster #winter naven #eating disorder tw #my writing

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johnnydora · 7 years

Note

join me or nurse me!! (for peraltiago OBVIOUSLY)

LOOK WHO FINALLY ANSWERED THIS

Leave a “JoinMe” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character givinganother character an offer [be it aproposal for an alliance, asking them to join them in an activity.]

By the time the tiramisu arrives, Amyis already lightheaded from laughter and wine. The weight of the past monthshas already slid neatly off her shoulders, her mind airily tuned to herboyfriend across the table and the bustling restaurant around them. And itisn’t quite normal, not with her crimson dress and Jake’s tux, but after solong apart, it’s nice to dress up and act as if they’re a regular couple withextravagant date nights and fancy suits.

(It certainly beats their latestroutine of scheduled prison visits and security checks. Sometimes she findsherself keeping track of the minutes in her head, only to remember no one’scoming to take him away this time.)

The idea was hers, spawned from eveningafter evening spent draped over the couch with takeout and missed showrecordings. Though as pleasant as it was to curl around Jake until the nightmaresof the past were a distant memory, they were in desperate need of a celebratorynight out. And real food.

The delayed celebration is better inthe end; they’ve had enough rough nights of choked sobs and arguments to findtheir way back to each other. So when Jake recounts gross exaggerations oftales as an inmate, Amy laughs. And when she acts out the wild cases she’dsolved without him, he widens his eyes and gasps at all the right moments. Despiteall the odds stacked against them from the start, they’ve returned to theirroutine ease.

It’s a curse, perhaps, how quickly shefalls into that ease, the blush staining her cheeks darker throughout theevening as she laughs and runs through glass after glass of wine. And when thenight grows softer, she traces his features in the glowing orange light whilehe speaks; from the quirk of his lips to the lightly disheveled ends of hishair. To his eyes, crinkled in smiles or sparkling with his newest outrageousidea, but always meeting hers in that gentle way that picks up her heart rateand races it to the finish line, the breath sticking in her lungs as it’s leftbehind.

Or maybe that’s just love—all consumingyet warm where it sits in her chest and her cheeks and her fingertips, like afire beckoning her home.

(At the end of the night, she won’t beable to pinpoint quite what finally pushed her. Nor will it matter. Not withthe city lights fragmenting through her ring as she lifts her hand to thewindow. Not when her fiancé softly kisses her forehead in his final drifttowards sleep.)

But there, with her aching cheeks andwaning inhibition, the words “Do you want to get married?” tumble off her lipsbefore she can think twice.

The gravity of her question doesn’tstrike her until she’s reaching for another bite of tiramisu, and the clackingof her fork against the plate amplifies the sudden silence at their table. Shedrops the fork as she realizes, weighs her damage. It’s not as if they’ve nevermentioned marriage before in offhand remarks and hushed conversations underblankets, but this breaches new territory. She can’t figure out the safest wayto proceed.

When she finally glances up at Jake,she’s expecting trepidation, but his eyes hold a familiar warmth instead. Noteven a hint of worry or alarm, not anything remotely near the thoughtsspiraling through Amy’s head. His lips even quirk up, on the verge of a laugh.

“Did you just propose to me?”

She falters. “No! Maybe?”

As she tucks her hair back, cheekswarming, weeks of nights spent tracing over photo album pages comes to mind.They morphed into scrapbooking and note taking, anything to keep herself fromdrowning in the silence of her apartment. And at some point, during a weakermoment, she found herself curled at the foot of the bed with a freshlypurchased ring, pages and pages of lined paper detailing a better future. Thereare, she supposes, worse things in this world than being married to JakePeralta.

“At least do it properly,” Jake continues,taking the opportunity to steal more than his fair share of tiramisu.

“What?”

His eyes glint. “You know. Get down onone knee. Hold out a ring?”

Admittedly, every time she went throughthis moment in her head, she was the calm and composed one, while Jakeanxiously babbled away. But now, the best she can manage is to lamely sputter, “Idon’t have a ring.”

“Well,” he says, reaching into hisinner coat pocket, “lucky I do.”

“Wait, were you—? You weren’t going topropose tonight, were you?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I’ve just been carryingthis around with me. Waiting for inspiration to strike or something.”

And with that, the building tensionwithin her heart and lungs overflows, her abdomen flooding and twisting,because he’s been waiting, too, for a future where no one can separate themagain. It settles as quickly as it starts, her overwhelming surety kicking in.This is it. This is real, and her boyfriend is offering her the ring he boughtfor her who knows how long ago, but she can’t take it, not when he came soprepared, not when he’s still looking at her like that—

“Well, if you won’t do it, I will,” hesays.

“Go ahead,” she whispers.

He hesitates, preparing himself with a deep breath beforestanding up from his chair and slowly taking the few steps towards hers. Amykeeps her eyes over his shoulder, certain that if she sees his face, sees thering he pops open, that she’ll start to cry. But he’s silent for too long, soshe pulls her eyes over to his face. He’s balanced on one knee, also avoidingher eyes, perplexed.

“Crap, I didn’t plan anything to say.”

She can’t help but laugh, wiping away the tears beginning towell in her eyes and placing her hand on his. He finally meets her gaze, eyeswet as well.

“This going terribly, isn’t it? Should I start again? Maybeadd some flare or—”

“Jake.”

“Oh, right, right, right, yeah. Um. Will you marry me?”

Leaning over in her chair, she presses her forehead to his,letting her tears fall as freely as they wish. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

He laughs, lifting up his chin to kiss her, and half missingher mouth from the blind glee. She tries to grip his shoulders and supportherself as she falls into him a bit more, laughter overcoming them both. Eventually,he pulls her down with him where he can better hold her, the ring case digginginto her spine. Amy hiccups as she tries to kiss him again, and she can feelhis grin against her lips. Distantly, she’s aware of the restaurant clappingaround them, but Jake’s finally composed himself to kiss her properly, and shefocuses on the way it makes her heart skip, the way she can feel his heartbeating just as quickly as her hand grazes his chest.

(And perhaps it’s just a coincidence—the universe doesn’ttake suggestions from wedding vows after all—but they’re never forced apartfrom each other again.)

#i was going to give u more before the read more #but this isnt very long #ill give u a hint tho the prompt mentions proposal #ok ok lol byyye #b99 fanfic #peraltiago #jake peralta #amy santiago #fanfiction #mine #my fic

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thenctcults · 7 years

Text

Piano Man

Pairing: Taeil x reader Genre: smut Warnings: language Word count: 4,296

You breathed through your nostrils furiously as you scrolled down the page on the hundredth site for houses for rent you had checked that day. Nothing lived up to your expectations. Well, actually, if you were honest with yourself a lot of them lived up to your expectations, exceeding them in a lot of cases. However, even the shoddiest rooftop room seemed to be way too pricey for a college student that was trying to be independent just like you. Which also translated to “I will not be asking my parents for help” as much as it was needed in situations like this. You did find an apartment that was at a somewhat reasonable price, but it still being more than you could afford with the low wage of your shitty part time job. Moving out of the college dormitories was not going to be easy and you knew that, but all your plans came crumbling down as reality hit you. Neither of your three best friends could be your roommates because two of them already had one and the third one shared an apartment with their partner. Writing down the needed information about the apartment, you closed the tab and opened another one, typing in the website of your college. A lot of students could post various stuff on the home page, so it was time you typed in a post looking for a roommate.

Biting on you nails anxiously, you waited for someone as desperate as you that would be willing to share a living space with a total stranger. Maybe not your brightest idea, but it was worth a shot. You got up on your feet and let out a sound of surprise as you saw that your post had one comment underneath. After having completed your happy dance break, you sat down on your bed and placed the laptop on your thighs as you fervently typed a reply back, asking them to speak in private about it.

Their name was Moon Taeil and he was the same age as you but he was a major in the musical department, so you didn’t know much about him, or talked to him at all for that matter. Both of you had decided to meet up in front of the central entrance of the campus and meet up with the landlord. You were lost in your thoughts as you felt a little tap on your left shoulder, quickly snapping your head at the direction of the disturber. It was a short boy - still taller than you though - with auburn hair that complimented his beautiful skin tone. “Y/N?” he asked, his eyebrows raising just the slightest. “You must be Taeil, right?”

“Yes, that’s me.” he said and finished off with a shy smile. Honestly, you didn’t know what to expect, but it definitely was not that. It wasn’t in a bad way, though, because he was quite attractive but you had to brush off any thought like that because he was your soon to be roommate - if it all went well that is. The pair of you fell into a steady pace as you walked side by side down the sidewalk, making sure to keep some needed distance between the two of you. “Excited to move out of the dorms?” you asked, looking down at the sidewalk as you walked, avoiding to step on the cracks - yes, you still did that. “I lived with my parents.” he said, his face blank and voice bored. “Oh, well. How was that?” you asked, earning a side eye from him. “Just curious.” you shrugged. “I don’t know, you tell me how fun it would be for a 22 year old guy still living with his parents.” Biting on the inside of your cheek, you fought the urge to make a sarcastic remark. You wanted to be on good terms with your new roommate, but you just met five minutes ago and it was as if he was trying to make you hate him. Neither of you said anything after that and walked in an uncomfortable silence.

“And this is the bathroom.” the landlord said as he showed you the final room of the apartment. It wasn’t the biggest but it had a bathtub which meant that you’d be having the first bath in years once you moved in. “It looks much better than on the pictures.” Taeil said, looking at the view of the window located in the living room and you nodded in agreement at the landlord, who looked ecstatic to say the least. “Shall we move on the lease then?” he asked and the three of you found yourself seated at a table at this cafe, you and Taeil carefully reading the lease. “You know, I wasn’t going to ask this and be a busybody and all, but don’t you think you guys are too young to be moving in together, already?” the man sitting in front of you asked. Looking up from the piece of paper in shock, you opened your mouth to explain to him that you were complete strangers, Taeil had already began speaking. “We really wanted to take our relationship a step further and despite the young of our age, both of us knew we were ready for this.” Taeil said. smiling at your direction and giving your hand that was on the table a squeeze. “But I really don’t think that this concerns you in any way.” he finished, leaving you and the landlord dumbfounded at the words that had just escaped his lips..

“What the fuck was that?” “What do you mean?” “I mean what just happened inside the coffee shop a few minutes ago.” “Oh,” Taeil said in fake realization, “you meant that. Why are you getting mad at me?” “Oh, well I don’t know,” you said, flailing your arms, attracting the curious looks of people on the street, “maybe because you told him that we’re dating when we barely know each other?” “My point exactly.” Taeil said, not sparing you a single glance as he continued walking. “Um, care to elaborate?” you asked aggravated at his behavior and stepped in front of him blocking his way. “Do you really think it would look better if we had told him that we’re two complete strangers that decided to live together?” he asked, his eyes wide and shaking his head at you, as if he was stating the most obvious thing, which he was. You opened your mouth too retaliate, but closed it shut after you realized that he was right. “That’s what I thought.” he said, moving past you, leaving you fuming in the middle of the sidewalk.

You watched anxiously as the carriers brought in your furniture and placed them wherever you ordered them to. Thankfully most of the house was already equipped with basic furniture such as two couches, a coffee table and a dining table set for five people. So all you needed to do was deal with your bedroom. “Why are you looking so stiff?” a voice next to your ear startled you, making you jump in your spot, your nose brushing against the smooth skin of his cheek as you turned your head towards him. “I really hope you’re not starting to regret moving in with me.” “Surprisingly, not yet.” you deadpanned and walked into the living room the same time the two carriers were carrying an upright piano. “What the fuck is this?” you screeched as you watched them place it against the wall of the living room, next to the window. “A piano. Isn’t it obvious?” Taeil asked, standing next to you and much too close. “I know what a piano looks like, but what is it doing here?” you asked, taking a small step aside, because standing this close to him was deemed unhealthy for you, it was as if your mind went blank every time he was this close, his scent invading your nostrils, making you a little lightheaded. “I think the fact that I’m a music major might have slipped your memory.” the boy answered his voice calm, almost sounding disinterested. Something in your brain clicked as you realized that he was indeed right.

Sighing loudly and rested your hands on your waist; this was definitely going to be a difficult cohabitation.

Everything proceeded smoothly, this whole cohabitation thing seemingly being easier than what you thought. It has been a couple of months and both you and Taeil interacted here and there, without any of your usual quarreling; if you were being honest you could say that you had started developing a slight crush on him. From what you had gathered about him so far about his personality, he wasn’t very open, even though at times you felt like you knew him and could see through him, he always proved you wrong. Despite his joking persona, he was a tad introverted too.

You did know for a fact that he was an emotional guy, even if he didn’t express his emotions that well. It was quite often that you had walked in the living room and be met with the quiet, choked sobs of his as he cried watching dramas. However, you never mentioned it because you wanted to spare him the embarrassment.

Tonight was one of those times.

Silently leaning against the granite kitchen counter, you scrunched up your nose as you observed him and trying to hold in a giggle that was threatening to escape your lips. Weird sounds came out of Taeil, as he bit down on his lips, wiping the snot running down his nose with the back of his wrist. Yuck. Grabbing a handful of napkins you plopped down on the couch next to him.

“What are you doing here?” he sniffled in astonishment.

“You’re gross,” you commented, brushing off his question, “get yourself a box of tissues when watching those stupid dramas of yours.”

“I can’t believe me you saw me in this state.” Taeil griped into his palms.

“We live in the same house, it was bound to happen sooner or later, and it did.” you responded, awkwardly patting his shoulder in a fake comforting manner. “It just happened sooner.” you added, your tone quiet.

“What do you mean?” Taeil asked sounding congested from all the crying, looking up at you a confused expression on his face. “Well, what I’m trying to say is that,” you said, scooting over to the side of the sofa, glued right next to the armrest, suddenly feeling the need to distance yourself from him, “is that this is not the first time I’ve seen you cry.” you finished, sucking in your lips. “You, what?” Taeil shrieked, grimacing in embarrassment. “Now you’re going to use this against me.” he whined, followed by a grunt. “Mm, if I’m being honest with you the thought did cross my mind for a millisecond, but then again, crying is a thing all humans do.” you replied and stood up from the couch, resuming to your studies and leaving Taeil behind, contemplating on your words.

As you sluggishly made your way to the kitchen the following morning, the smell of of food filled your nostrils, causing you to be more awake and even hungrier. Taeil’s bare back - it was a habit of his, always walking around without a shirt on - was facing you as he frantically moved the food on the pan with some chopsticks. “Ah, fuck, please don’t stick, I have to make it look nice for her.” he mumbled to no other but himself. “Are you expecting someone?”

Upon hearing the sound of your groggy morning voice, his head snapped at you and he looked at you like a deer caught in headlights. “You’re awake!” he exclaimed, fully turning towards you, a pan with what seemed to be an egg roll - you had mentioned once in a conversation that it was your favorite thing to eat during breakfast. However, you couldn’t take him seriously, standing in front of you wearing an apron with the body of a muscular guy on it. “What are you wearing?” you giggled sitting on a stool, a slight blush forming on your cheeks. Quite frankly, you liked Taeil’s body as it is, imagining him like that seemed ridiculous to you. “Oh,” he exclaimed, looking down at his apron, “this is to distract you from the real thing.” he said, winking playfully at you.

“Ah, you’re so considerate, how sweet.” you responded in fake adulation, “But right now, all I can think of is the fucking egg roll.” and motioned at him to give you your food. Taeil cooked often, he wasn’t the most experienced in that field but he sure did a better job than you. “Tsk, so impatient.” he chided and carefully placed the roll on a plate and proceeded to cut it in an agonizingly slow pace, making your impatience grow. “Here you go.” he slid the plate across the granite surface of the counter.

“Finally.” you groaned, stuffing your mouth with a piece of it and a spoonful of rice, moaning as the deliciousness hit your palate. Other similar sounds of pleasure as you continued eating your food, loving the way Taeil shifted uneasily in his seat.

“Excuse me for a few minutes.” a flustered Taeil sprung up from his seat and rushed to the bathroom locking the door behind him, leaving you in the kitchen alone, smirking like a fool.

3:04 a.m

You ran a hand over your distressed and sweaty face, placing your phone down, the screen facing the wooden surface of your nightstand. It was a stupid nightmare again, this time you were being chased by a group of shirtless bloodied men trying to snatch your soul. Intense. Your ears perked up as you heard the sounds of Taeil’s piano permeate the entire apartment. What was Taeil doing awake at the wee hours of the morning, playing the piano?

You trudged over to the living room and leaned against the wall of the hallway that lead from the living room to the bedrooms, and listened to him play quietly, the melody now changing to a more familiar tune - Comptine d'un autre été from the soundtrack of Amélie, to be exact. “That song makes me sad.” you professed, not moving from your spot. “Did I wake you up?” Taeil asked, his voice guilty, his fingers halting on the keys. “No, I woke up because of a nightmare, you can keep playing, it’s soothing.” you admitted and it was the truth; there were a lot of times when the tunes he played on the piano had lulled you to sleep. “What are you doing up this early, anyway? Did you even go to sleep?” you questioned and motioned him to scoot over in the stool to sit next to him, and that’s when you noticed that not only was he shirtless but he was only wearing his boxers. Great.

“No actually, I can’t fall asleep. I have many things running through my mind that keep me awake.”

“What kind of things?” “Just different thoughts,” his fingers trailed over the white keys, then reaching to close the cover, “of you.” “What?” you choked out. “Yes,” Taeil affirmed, turning his torso slightly to the side, to face you better in the dimly lit room, the only source of light being a tall lamp next to the piano. “I’ve been actually thinking a lot about you lately.” he scooted over next to you, knees touching, the warmth of his skin igniting a fire within you.

“Yesterday morning was the breaking point.” he continued, his voice husky, suddenly dropping a couple of octaves lower; it made the hairs at the nape of your neck stand up straight. “I couldn’t contain myself with those little sounds you made.” he mumbled, his face really close to your ear. The sound of his voice made you clench your thighs involuntarily.

“You’re such a tease, you know that?” he kept going, his breath fanning over the sensitive skin of your neck, making goosebumps appear on your skin. You had to bite on your lower lip to hold back a whimper bubbling in your throat.

“Why are you doing this?” “Consider this a payback.” you felt Taeil smirk against your neck, his lips then attaching themselves on your neck, the whimper that threatened to live your lips finally finding a way out. His teeth sank into your skin softly, nibbling on the spot below your jawline. “You know,” he mumbled in between the kisses, “I think about you often, especially when I’m all alone.” “Taeil.” you breathed out, your voice trailing off. His hands wrapped around your waist and lifted you to straddle his lap, resting you against the piano. His lips found their way to your jawline and kept going up until he halted at the corner’s of your lips.

“I really want to do more than just kiss you.”

“Like what?” you managed to gasp out.

“Why don’t I show you instead of just telling you?” he asked, his voice seductive. He had you good by this point, not that you complained, though. “Yes, please.” you begged breathless and hugged your arms around Taeil’s bare shoulders and he sealed his lips with yours with so much ardor it made you dizzy. His kisses felt urgent and needy, as if he had been suppressing the desire to kiss you for so long, you could feel the burning passion he hid inside of him.

His hands trailed up from your hips and under your t-shirt, his soft fingertips brushing the skin of your stomach ever so slightly. They itched higher and higher up, stopping just at the underside of your breasts, fingers teasing you, earning a little mewl from you. Your hands moved on their accord, untangling themselves from his shoulders and latched onto Taeil’s wrists, pushing his hands upwards to fully cup both of your breasts, letting out a small sigh.

“You’re so eager.” Taeil chuckled detaching his lips from yours, dragging your lower lip as he did so. His left hand remained on your right breast, tweaking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a small moan from you. Meanwhile, his other hand traveled south on your body, reaching the waistband of your shorts and tugged at it slightly. “You’re wearing so many clothes.” he hummed, slowly dragging your shorts down to reveal your boy shorts. Not sexy at all. He motioned you to move slightly so as to fully take them off, but considering the position you were in you had you untangle your legs from around his waist and sit on the piano awkwardly, till they were off. This was not as smooth as you had imagined, but it filled the atmosphere with a more lighthearted mood.

However, that mood instantly dissipated right as his hand stroked your core through the cotton fabric of your underwear. Your whole body was burning and aching with desire and anticipation, igniting with the slightest touch. The low moans slipping from your mouth pervaded the quiet room, as he stroked you in languid motions. Taeil’s hand trailed up to the waistband and slid inside your underwear, his palm coming in touch with your heated center. “You’re so wet already.” he groaned, his middle finger rubbing though your folds and then circling around your sensitive bud, making you shudder in response. Taeil slowly inserted his finger in and began sliding in an out in a slow pace. “More. please.” you mumbled, desperately clutching on his shoulders. Taeil didn’t need to be told twice and obediently complied inserting a second finger inside of you and began scissoring you. Your head rolled back hitting on the wooden surface of the piano, your jaw slacking open but no sounds coming out of your mouth, your voice hitching in your throat.

His movements halted and Taeil pulled out his fingers, his gaze locking with yours as he brought his fingers to his lips, licking them.

“Why don’t we continue this in my room?” he croaked out, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. Nodding without any second thought, the pair of you stood up from the stool and he guided you to his room. A sudden wave of anxiety washed over you, what would happen between the two of you after this? Brushing the thought off for now, you opted on enjoying the moment for now and let things play out.

Seconds after you found yourself sprawled out on Taeil’s king sized bed, his face buried between your thighs, his tongue working wonders. His hair was tussled due to you excessively running your fingers through it as his lips circled around your clit. Your hips and inner thighs were littered with hickeys and bruises, Taeil made sure to mark you on his way down.

“I want more.” you whined, pulling his head up and connecting your lips, tasting yourself on his but not minding at all.

“Then I’ll give it to you.” he croaked, positioning himself between your thighs. In one swift moment, your t-shirt was off and it was then strewn across the bedroom floor. You could feel his hardened member against you as he ground his clothed crotch against yours, the friction making you ache for him. Taeil’s head was buried in the crook of your neck, finding yet another place to leave his mark. His arm reached out to open the drawer on his nightstand and retrieve a condom.

Wasting no more time, you hastily tugged his boxers down with shaky hands, his erection springing free from the confines of his underwear. Grabbing him in your hands you began pumping his length, earning low groans from him. However, your movements halted by his own hand. “Why’d you stop me?” your voice came out breathy.

“I want to feel myself inside of you, I can’t hold back any longer.” he almost growled and proceeded to rip the wrapping of the condom and roll the latex on his length. Your breath hitched as you felt him align himself to your entrance and slowly slide himself inside of you, stretching your walls, filling you up.

You both moaned simultaneously at this new feeling; it was as if your bodies fit perfectly for each other. After stilling inside of you for a few seconds, he began thrusting his hips against you in a slow steady pace, that had you craving for more. “More, Taeil.” It really seemed as if that was the only word in your vocabulary at that moment, but all you wanted was just more. More of him. More of Moon Taeil. “Please, go faster.” you begged him.

Not uttering a word, he complied and picked up his pace, moaning your name as he did so. Suddenly feeling confident, you decided to turn him over so you were now on top. The unexpected action astounded him, but his expression instantly relaxed and was replaced by a leisure smile. Resting your palms on each side of your head, you began moving your hips up and down slowly on him, making him roll his head back against the pillows. His hips lifted up to find yours in a steady rhythm, the feeling of his pelvis hitting against you made your eyes roll back. Your nails raked his chest, trying to desperately hold on to something as he drove himself into you. Grabbing tightly on your hips, he stilled them and began to slam his hips against yours, your whole body shaking and trembling from the new intense wave of pleasure as he repeatedly hit that sweet spot over and over again. His name slipped out of your mouth like a mantra.

You brought your body forward and gave Taeil a sloppy kiss, which he return with much more vigor, as he picked up the pace on his hips, causing you to moan in his mouth.

After a few more erratic thrusts, you began feeling this familiar pool in your heat; you were practically screaming his name by now. Taeil felt your walls clench around him and let out a string of curses as he continued pounding into you, his thrusts becoming sloppier by the second as he reached closer to his climax.

“I won’t last much longer.” he groaned as brought his thumb between your sweaty bodies and rubbed rough circles on your clit, making your thighs quake, feeling your sweet release approaching.

Almost a minute passed and Taeil’s hips snapped one last time before stilling inside of you as he reached your orgasm, his cock twitching inside of you, your name leaving his lips jumbled with some incoherent curse words. He continued thrusting inside of you, prolonging his own orgasm and making you reach yours, his thumb never stopping on your clit. It was only a couple of seconds after that your walls clenched around him and your entire body quaked above him, as you climaxed.

Your body slumped against his after you came down from your high, his fingers drawing circles on your hips. Neither of you spoke a word to each other afraid you would ruin the moment and let tomorrow decide on what happens from this point onward.

#moon taeil scenarios #nct taeil scenarios #taeil smut #moon taeil #nct taeil #taeil scenarios #nct scenarios #nct u scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #Y'ALL THIS IS SO DIRTY IM YODELLING #I CANT BELIEVE I WROTE THIS #THIS WAS MY LONGEST YEAH BOY EVER

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sicjimin · 3 years

Note

Can you PLEASEEEE write a story where Hyuna is sick (throwing up) and Yoongi and Jimin take care of her🤧

A.N : haha i'm sorry this one is short TT but i hope this still meet your expectations .. i really dont have it in me to torture Hyuna she's a sweet baby 😞 well, i hope you like it. thank u for the adorable idea i love it sm <3

TW : emeto

"Appa .. tummy hurts", Hyuna croaked out, but her eyelids were still half-closed as she had been sleeping on Yoongi's chest the past few minutes after Jimin make her eat and gulp down some medicine.

Yoongi coos, " I know baby, I'm sorry", he says softly as his hand starts rubbing his daughter's stomach, making a gentle circle pattern, hoping that the warmth of his palm could lessen the pain. But Hyuna squirmed from his embrace, clearly didn't like the touch.

" My belly feels all gross", Hyuna whined. Yoongi hasn't managed to take any action before Hyuna suddenly gagging, spitting up the water she just takes on their sheet.

Yoongi's eyes widen as he scrambles on his feet to snatch the trashcan from the corner of their room, "Baby baby", he chants in panic, " here" , he holds out the bin for her so she can continue to throw up.

Hyuna continues to vomit until all the food she has eaten earlier that day finally made its way out of her body. Yoongi sits back on his legs and rubs her back soothingly as she vomits. His heart clenched looking at how sick his daughter was now, but he also didn't want to admit that the sound of vomit plopping against the plastic didn't make his deep-rooted nausea in his stomach grow. He inhales a shaky breath, murmured soothing words, "You're okay baby"

After what felt like forever, Hyuna finally stopped throwing up but her entire throat was covered with mucus which made her choke a bit, tears starting to pool in her eyes. She totally did not like the sensation. "Papa ..", she croaks and tries to hold back a sob. Her little lip quivered slightly.

"You're okay now, the bed bug is gone", Yoongi whispered and wipes the stray tear away gently, kissing her forehead, "Let's get you a tea? It can make your tongue taste sweet again"

The tears in Hyuna's eyes began to overflow, she nuzzled herself further into Yoongi's, curling her little fingers tight on his sweater, "Icky ..", she cries.

Yoongi smiled tenderly, "Yeah, yeah, I know baby", He whispers and stands up, picking Hyuna up who wraps her arms around Yoongi's neck tightly. He was about to clean everything up when Jimin peek through the door with tea, porridge, and medicine on the tray. It is clear that he just arrived from the quick grocery shopping as he still has his coat on.

" How is she?", Jimin whispers as he placed the tray on the nightstand. Yoongi shakes his head, " Not good, she threw up a lot".

Jimin nods slowly as he looks at his daughter, " I'll get you some fresh clothes while papa cleans the mess, ok?". Hyuna looks up at Jimin's voice, nods, "Appa..", she stretches her arms that Jimin gladly accepts. He quickly changes her into clean blue pajamas that she likes, making her sips some of her tea as she whines of the bitter taste on her tongue before she pulled herself into sleep on Jimin's chest.

" She's sleeping?", Yoongi asks after he cleaned up the trashcan. Jimin nodded softly with a smile, then said, " She needs the rest".

" Yeah. I think I need it too", Yoongi replied and walked over to his bed and sat beside Jimin. Jimin smiles, " You look exhausted".

Yoongi sighs, " I am"

"Are you okay hyung?", Jimin asks, raising his eyebrow as he could see that the older look a little bit paler. The bags under Yoongi's eyes were even darker than usual. "No", he huffs. Now that adrenaline from watching Hyuna's sick has worn off, Yoongi has become more aware of how shitty he feels. Nausea in his stomach now become overwhelming, and the sudden flash of Hyuna's sick earlier didn't help at the slightest. He's gonna be sick.

" I think i'm gonna-", a gag interrupted his words. His hand was pressed hard on his mouth and his eyes squeezed shut. He coughed harshly and heaved as his stomach continued to clench, he ran off to the bathroom, leaving the shocked Jimin behind.

Yoongi panted heavily and kneels down on the toilet seat. His knees buckled and fell as he threw up a small amount of bile into the toilet. As soon as he finished his fit, another bout of vomiting ensued. He groans and clutches his stomach as he watched brown liquid spurting from his mouth. He shuddered at the taste.

"Hyung?", Jimin trudge in, kneeling beside his boyfriend that sends more of sick down the toilet. The younger held Yoongi's hair back from his face so he could breathe easier. "Are you alright?", Jimin asked, worried.

Yoongi shook his head no, "I don't feel well", he croaked out before his stomach lurch again. Jimin frowns deeply as he saw how flushed Yoongi's face became. He stays silent, occasionally massaging the older nape as he retches.

It took few minutes until Yoongi slumped down, completely spent after tossing his stomach content.

Jimin reaches out to flushed the murky water, "Are you done? How are you feeling?"

Yoongi sniffles, wiping his mouth and nose with his sleeve, "A little lightheaded"

"Why are you even sick anyway?", Jimin asked, worried. His forehead creased.

Yoongi shrugs, nuzzling into the younger crooks. Jimin's fingers mindlessly playing with his hair, " Dunno", he mumbled. "I was feeling off the moment i wake up. I think watching Hyuna's sick only push me off"

"Mmhmm", Jimin hummed, not knowing what else to say, " Do you think we should go to the doctor?", he asks.

Yoongi shook his head, "No need. Maybe I'm just tired and got sympathy sickness"

Jimin hums again. "Okay, let's get you back to bed. Rest up with Hyuna. I will make both of your porridge and tea to fill your empty stomach"

Yoongi nods and lets himself being pulled to his room by the smaller male, laying on the bed carefully. Yoongi snuggles into Hyuna that still peacefully sleeping. His palms brushed his daughter's forehead, "At least her fever has got down", Yoongi mutters.

" Really? That's great. I can't bear watching her sick, hyung. She looks so small", Jimin says softly. Stroking Hyuna's hair and tucked some of it behind her ears. "It's just strange not seeing her jumping around on our bed"

Yoongi hums in acknowledgment. "I will get going to take care of you two my big baby", Jimin grins, " I don't want you to get sick again"

Yoongi nods and smiles, " Ok"

Jimin leans down and kisses his daughter on top of his head and steals a peck on Yoongi's lips that caught him off guard. "You're horrible. I have puke breath and you kissed me?", he grunts. But his cheeks still blush madly. Jimin chuckles, " I don't care. Need my kiss to keep going taking care of you both sick"

Yoongi laughs before leaning in again, kissing Jimin softly. He rests his forehead against Jimin's, " I love you so much. Thank you. I'm sorry i make you worry too"

" It's okay, I just wish i can do something to ease you both", Jimin whispers before he stands up. "Rest up hyung, Hyuna is waiting for your cuddles. I will wake you up later"

"Okay"

Jimin exits the room. Yoongi pulls one side of the covers up to cover himself properly with it, and lays his hand onto Hyuna's stomach as he drifts asleep.

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #sick!yoongi #caretaker!jimin

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