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#except for the fact my ability to breathe has been getting worse
seramilla · 2 days
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Ohhh Vaggie learning she's really Carmillas daughter who never made it!!! Wait wait though. We can make this worse. Vaggie wasn't just any miscarried baby. What if Carmilla was pregnant when she died and Vaggie was that baby? Like Carmilla knew she was pregnant but had no clue what happened to her unborn third child, not until Vaggie is registering as her daughter...
"Will you leave us alone for a minute, Charlotte?"
Carmilla's strong hand comes to rest on Charlie's shoulder, where she's leaning over Vaggie's hospital bed. Charlie seems surprised at first, like she wants to protest, or say she doesn't want to leave her girlfriend's side. But something in Charlie's eyes says she knows it's for the best. The princess squeezes her hand, says, "I'll be right outside, baby," and gives her one final look before she exits the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Carmilla rolls the doctor's chair over to Vaggie's beside, taking a seat, and crosses her arms protectively over her chest. Vaggie's not sure if she's just contemplating, or if the crossing of her arms is a self-soothing behavior. Vaggie is normally exceptional at reading body language, but this woman has always been a mystery to her. At the very least, Carmilla seems particularly uncomfortable with this situation. She opens her mouth as if to speak. Several times, in fact, but nothing comes out, until Vaggie offers her an olive branch.
"It's okay, Ms. Carmine," Vaggie says, trying to sound as casual and non-threatening as possible to the disgruntled woman. "You seem like you have something important you want to tell me. I'd rather you not sugarcoat it and just say it."
Carmilla breathes deep, bending forward and putting her large hands behind her head, laughing under her breath. "Okay then..." she starts, sitting up again to look Vaggie straight in her one curious, golden eye. "What has Heaven told you about Exorcists?"
"Umm, nothing," Vaggie admits, not sure where Carmilla is going with this. "Just that we were 'specially selected' to serve under Adam, whatever that means."
"Do you have any recollection of your life on Earth before that point?"
"Again, no...none of us did. Why? Where are you going with this?"
Carmilla sighs again, visibly fighting with herself over how to phrase this next part.
"Lucifer informed me that the process for selecting Exorcists is quite...different than I had initially understood. I thought you were trained to be warriors; while that's true, you weren't selected for the role because of your ability. It has more to do with what you are."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Vaggie asks, getting visibly annoyed and even a little angry at that statement. What she is? She's not anything special. She'd been an angel, and a strong one, and that's why she'd been chosen. She's a little more cocksure than other angels, but all the Exorcists had to be. There hadn't been anything that different about her. She's just Vaggie. Charlie had said so.
Carmilla moves on to a seemingly unrelated topic, which only frustrates Vaggie more.
"Let me, um..." Carmilla says, trying to think of a different angle from which to approach this topic. "How do I put this?...Years ago, my daughters and I were killed in an accident. It was stupid, and entirely my fault. When we showed up here, I didn't know what was going on. I only knew that I had to protect them at all costs. It took a while, though, for my memories from my life to come back to me. But when they did...I suddenly remembered that when I died...I had been pregnant."
Vaggie is...perplexed, to say the least, about where the current conversation is headed. She feels sorry for Carmilla, sure, but she's not certain where the older woman thinks she's going with this.
"Umm, I'm sorry," Vaggie says, infusing her voice with as much sincerity and empathy that she can muster. She's still not sure what this has to do with her, but she's not an unsympathetic monster. "What...what happened to your baby?"
"I never knew," Carmilla said, and Vaggie can tell she's trying to hold back tears. "I assumed I...lost it, when we ended up here. As some sort of punishment. I was pregnant before I came here, and then when we manifested in Pentagram City, my child was just...gone. Like I'd never been pregnant in the first place."
"I'm sorry for your loss, Carmilla," Vaggie reiterates, but starting to get a little antsy from the tone of this conversation. "But what does that have to do with me?"
Carmilla stands, pacing the room back and forth, chewing lightly on one of her nails, obviously in distress about what she's going to say next.
"I tried to move on. I always hoped my baby was spirited away to Heaven. They were an innocent. They didn't deserve any of this." She gestures to the entirety of Hell with her strong hands, as if the reason should be obvious. "I made that assumption, and I chose to believe it. But then you showed up at my doorstep...fighting for freedom, for justice, for some kind of retribution for what you'd done to Charlotte's people. I didn't want to help at first. But something inside me told me I needed to."
She moves back to Vaggie's bedside, taking Vaggie's un-bandaged hand in hers, and squeezing it tightly.
"Then Lucifer called me, and said you were injured. You had lost a lot of blood, and the clock was ticking. Charlotte was trying desperately to find someone who was a match, anyone at all. I figured it couldn't hurt to see if me or my girls would be a fit...and Vaggie, the thing is...all of us were."
"So?" Vaggie responds, wishing Carmilla would just get to the fucking point. "Odds are someone down here would be, right? It's not that uncommon?"
"Vaggie..." Carmilla starts again, taking both of her hands in her large claws this time, squeezing them until they almost hurt. "Lucifer told me why. And also about what the Exorcists really are. What you really are. You're all children, Vaggie. Infants! All the Exorcists, every one of them, are souls that were never truly born... They never got to experience life on Earth as autonomous beings. That's why none of you remember. There's nothing to remember. For that, Heaven treated you wrong."
Vaggie's eye is wide. She's looking at the woman in front of her, hearing every word coming out of her mouth, but not able to focus, and not understanding any of it. No, that can't be true, she thinks. She'd been a person. She'd had a life. A family. Hadn't she? Why can't she remember?
"No," Vaggie says, shaking her head, refusing to believe a word of it. "That's not true, Carmilla!" She yanks her hand away from Carmilla's, covering her head with her hands, refusing to look at the grieving woman in front of her. "How dare you," Vaggie continues. "How dare you say such a thing. We were people! You don't get to take that away from me!"
"Vaggie, listen," Carmilla tries to place her hand on Vaggie's shoulder this time, but Vaggie pushes her away. Carmilla tries again, desperately needing the young girl to listen to what she has to say. She grasps Vaggie by the shoulders, and Vaggie fights it, but Carmilla forces her to sit still, forces her to face her, and not look away.
"Let me go!" Vaggie shouts. Carmilla doesn't.
"Listen to me, mija. Lucifer wasn't a match. He's always a match for the other fallen angels. But he wasn't for you. Because you're different. Yes, you're mortal, but you're different. You never tasted Earth's food, never walked on the same ground as other SInners, you are blameless. So you're different. Belphegor ran additional tests, to figure out why, and it's because..."
Carmilla lets her go, turning away from Vaggie, suddenly unable to look at her.
"Because why?" Vaggie shouts. "Fucking Hell, because why?! Just spit it out, Carmilla!"
Carmilla does, and when she turns to face Vaggie again, her face is soaked with salty tears.
"Because you're mine!"
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What if Gabriel couldn't control Gimmi?
Idea that's been rattling in my head since the finale of season 5
"Tikki, Plagg, unite!"
He had done it! He had finally gotten both miraculous! Now, he could make his wish a reality!
As Gabriel thought this, Plagg and Tikki merged into one, forming the true form of Gimmi.
The massive purple kwami stared down at him, then spoke.
"We are Gimmi, the kwami of reality. What is it you require of us?"
Gabriel smirked. "I want my greatest desire to be granted." Gabriel bowed slightly. "With the cost of my life."
Next thing Gabriel knew, he felt extreme pain in his head. Worse than the effects of the Cataclysm.
"We decide the price of the wish, mortal!" Gimmi yelled, seemingly from all around him.
After catching his breath, Gabriel spoke.
"I summoned you! I control you!" Gabriel glared at Gimmi.
Gimmi gave an unimpressed stare back.
"You use our power, yes. But holding our miraculi does NOT give you the ability to say how they work." Gimmi rose so they were not eye level anymore. "The universe requires a balance. So, the price is something of equal value from you."
Gabriel glared at the Kwami. "The grimore-"
"The grimore says a kwami is summoned with a miraculous. And yet, we require 2 miraculi. So, clearly, we are the exception."
Gabriel wanted to say something, but he started going into a coughing fit.
"You may want to stop arguing, as you do not have much time left."
Gabriel pulled his hand back to see that Gimmi was right. It wouldn't be long before the Cataclysm took his life.
"Fine, what is the price for my wish?"
Gimmi raised a nonexistent eyebrow. "Be more specific, everyone has many desires."
Gabriel growled. "My greatest desire, of course!"
Gimmi tilted his head. "Which one? The real one, or the one you claim?"
Gabriel's confusion was visible. "What?"
"Your desire to win in all things, that is your truest desire."
"What? No! That's not-!"
"Lie all you want." Gimmi interrupted Gabriel's response. "But that is your greatest desire. It can be seen in your actions." Gimmi leaned down and got in Gabriel's face, causing him to step back.
"That is why you sent your son away for being unruly. That is why you didn't save Emilie when you had the Rabbit miraculous. That is why you get pleasure in defeating a child." Gimmi used one of their many hands to gesture to Marinette, who has been watching this all happen, while still frozen from Venom.
Gimmi then turned back to Gabriel. "So again, claim all you want that your greastest wish is for Emilie's return, but you and I know the truth."
Gabriel, throughout Gimmi's examination of his character, was silent. Then did his best to look imposing. The way he did when ever someone challenged him.
"Fine, but seeing as how I was able to summon you, I think we can agee I've already achieved that dream. So, another wish is in order."
Gimmi rose back to their full height.
"I wish for Emilie's return."
"We cannot do that for you."
Gabriel physically recoiled. "What!?!" Gabriel scowled at Gimmi. "Is this some kind of rebellion? Because-!"
"We are not rebelling. The problem with that wish, is you."
Gabriel, still furious. "Explain. Now."
"Even when we ignore the fact that the Emilie you think you know and the real person are different, you still do not have anything that would be equivalent."
"Of course I do! A life for a life! I offer my own for hers!"
"Those are not equivalent." Gimmi pointed at Gabriel. "The life must equal in your eyes. An eye for eye, a loved one for a loved one."
Gabriel sputtered as Gimmi rose again. "No loved ones? I have a son!"
Gimmi stared down at Gabriel with thinly veiled contempt. "The fact that you are even considering sacrificing him shows you do not love him the way you love Emilie."
Gabriel, unbothered by Gimmi's accusation, defends himself. "He's a sentimonster. Now that the Peacock is fixed, we can just make another. I'm sure Felix would agree to do so."
Gimmi closes all their eyes as they shake their head. "Do you hear yourself? How can you claim to love your son, when this is how you talk about him? Like he's a thing to throw him away when your whims desire?"
"We're a family! We-"
"We require the bond to be present. And that bond does not exist for you. Nor does anyone feel that way for you, for the matter."
Gabriel gave a bewildered look. "No one feels... again, I have a son, Adrien. He loves me. I'm his father."
Gimmi gave Gabriel a withering look. "There was a point when Adrien loved you. But in your haste to make sure you always win, even against your son, you snuffed out any and all affection he had for you."
Gimmi looks off into the distance. "Maybe in another life, one where you loved your son like you claim to, HE could have made the wish." Gimmi turns back to Gabriel. "And do what you originally intended when you summoned me. Sacrifice you to bring her back."
As Gimmi laid out the consequences of Gabriel's actions, he seethed. "Stop this stalling!"
Gabriel went into another coughing fit as Gimmi gave him a pitying look.
When stopped coughing, Gabriel continued. "There has to be for-"
"There is no way for to bring Emilie back for you"
Gimmi leaned their cheek on the back of their hand. "Nor can I give you eternal victory, as the only way to do so would be to grant your other desire."
Gabriel snarled, with a trail of ash going his face. "Then heal me of this!"
He gestured to the part of his body that was Cataclysmed.
Gimmi shook their head. "The price would either to give you an equally bad condition-"
"I want to be healed! Not obtain a new condition!"
"-or to give it to someone else you care for." Gimmi continued without pausing when Gabriel tried to interrupt them.
"But as we established, you have no one you care for. So again, we cannot do that either."
Gimmi stared down at Gabriel, as he finally realized what they were saying. "You can't mean..." Gabriel, for the first time in a long time, was feeling dread.
"Yes Gabriel," Gimmi leaned over him, "you have nothing to lose, and as such, nothing to gain."
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writing-by-mimi · 2 years
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Slumber Party
Alpha!Asmodeus x F!Omega!MC
Adult content, read at your own risk. Not beta read.
  Asmodeus. The man was perfect, flawless, and sweeter than sugar. An attractive Alpha with hidden raw strength you'd seen more than once, he just didn't make a habit of showing it. You didn't blame him, why get your hands dirty when demons like Lucifer and Beelzebub existed and loved making quick work of other demons causing trouble?
      The only flaw the man had, which wasn't even really a flaw, more of a... staggering disappointment to your heart,  was that he only saw Betas as people to have sex with, not any kind of long term commitment.
     An Alpha and Omega would share a bond that they just couldn't with Betas. Asmo knew that, recognized it. He'd told you himself a week after getting to the Devildom that he wouldn't ever settle for a Beta. They lacked 'the ability to please him' as he had rudely told you. Most likely he was referring to going into heat...
     Yes, you'd grown closer, and he never turned down a romp with a Beta because of their status, but he made it very clear that any type of permanent commitment would be with an Omega, and an Omega only.
      It made his advances and teasing worse. You'd fallen for him like everyone else in the frigging realm, and he couldn't even charm you. Your dirty secret of loving him would have to stay just that. It wouldn't matter if you confessed right now to him, even though he told you you'd be the exception, that he'd love you more than anyone else in all the realms...it was just Asmo being Asmo. A flirt. You knew he didn't mean anything by it.
     It hurt, knowing you weren't his preferred type for lasting love, but he never treated you or other Betas differently for being Betas.
     You'd never been in love before, but Asmo clicked all the boxes. The feelings you had for him you didn't share with anyone else. He was the only person you wanted to spend your life with in such a way...but being doomed from the start you had tried to get rid of the feelings.
     They persisted, even leaving the Devildom didn't help. After all these years, you had just accepted the fact you were going to die alone, pining for Asmodeus like countless others.
     It was silly, spending so much time with him. You shouldn't. All it did was serve to make your heart race and look like a fool when you couldn't get a sentence out after he would fluster you. He'd laugh and go about his business, having his fill of flirting and flustering the human.
     At this point, you wondered why you subjected yourself to Saturday Spa Day over and over again.
     Watching his thigh muscles move, so little of his bare legs covered, well toned, so unbearably perfect... Knowing that just a few inches above his impossibly short robe that his-
      "There you are!"
      You couldn't help but jump. Being caught thinking about the Avatar, only for the demon himself to show up...
      "Oh, what has you all hot and bothered?" He smirked at your darkening cheeks as you turned away.
     "Nothing!" You quickly answered and pushed your thoughts away.
     "Well, 'nothing' has more of your attention than me, and its my day with you sweetie." He looked up from his phone. "Okay, so I found this new human safe bubble bath I want you to test because I'm reviewing it. So far, on the demon side, I give it a solid C, so your input could save them. I'll judge how it does for your skin, hair and nails, but don't hold back." He pulled you up by the arm and ushered you hurriedly into his bathroom. "Oh, also, I found a robe that you'll absolutely love since Mammon stole your other one." You could hear him muttering under his breath about his brother. "After your bath, I'm going to do the usual, but I found some different products that I think will work much better for you." He added as his phone rang and he excused himself with a wink.
     Closing the door after him, you let out a sigh. Being so casual while walking around looking so attractive! It just wasn't fair. Your heart could only take so much before you were sure to have a heart attack.
     Undressing and running the bath, you added a generous amount of the bubble bath, the Avatars bathtub could definitely handle it.
      The smell was wonderful and the water the perfect temperature as you slid into the tub. Turning off the water, you moved back to the side and laid back while reaching for a random bottle of product to read while you enjoyed your time.
     You grimaced. Omega product. No doubt for when he brought them home... He had his own Alpha products on the other side of the bath. Looking through the rest, you gave a bitter laugh and sunk into the bubbles. No Beta products. Of course, there weren't many for your type...but even Asmo brought back Betas. Maybe he wanted them to smell like Omegas.
    Pushing the depressing thought from your head, you placed the bottle back where it had originally been.
     Stupid Omegas. Who wants to go into heat and smell perfect to every Alpha in a mile radius anyway?
      You sighed, blowing the bubbles back from your face. You wanted too. You wanted to be the forefront of the Alphas mind. Frenzied for sex, needy under Asmodeus, begging for his skillful touch.
       Holding your breath, you submerged yourself. Stupid thoughts...
      Emerging, you wiped your face and took a deep breath. Maybe subjecting yourself to him every Saturday should end? It would be easier for you. Give him more time to bed who he pleased. Probably a pretty little Omega who would be everything you couldn't be for him.
     Not showing up would mean you wouldn't get to spend so much time with him, but it also meant you wouldn't get so down on yourself.
      Along with being so sad, you had also served to excite yourself thinking of Asmodeus going to town on an Omega.
     Fuck. If you had just been born different. Asmo would be all over you in a moment. Your body withering under his touches as he fucked you through a heat cycle. Urges being met so completely for a week...
      "Sweetie! What's the matter? Oh fuck, it's the bath, isn't it?" Asmodeus's hand yanking you up out if the tub made you scream as you moved to cover yourself.
      A gasp left you as cold water hit your body. Asmodeus had turned on his shower head and was rinsing you off. His warm hands quickly sliding up and down your body, doing his best to remove the bubble bath from your skin and hair.
      Dropping the shower head he cupped your face and used his thumbs to wipe your eyes.
      When had you started to cry?
       "Oh shit, sweetie, I'm so sorry. I didn't know it would hurt you. If I had, I would have never got it." He grabbed the towel  that had been set by the edge of the bath and wrapped you in it. "I'm sorry it's so cold." He held you tightly to his chest.
      It was a good thing your face wasn't showing, otherwise he'd see the embarrassment on your face. It wasn't the bubble baths fault, you'd made yourself cry. Though you'd rather die than ever admit it.
      The smell of Asmo was tantalizing, his heart beat was fast in his perfectly sculpted chest as he held you tightly for a few moments longer before moving you from him at arms length, inspecting you. "Did I miss any spots? I'm so sorry it was cold." His hand swept a piece of wet hair from your face as he looked down to you.
      "I'm okay, really. It's probably just because it's better suited to Omegas..." you moved your face from his hands and looked away. I was the best excuse you could come up with.
      If you had been looking, you would have seen his eyes soften and the solemn smile on his face. "Maybe..." He turned to get the robe he purchased for you and averted his gaze as he handed it to you. "I'll pull out a sweater for you."
       You took the robe as he excused himself.
---
     Closing the door, Asmodeus leaned against it for a moment and let out a deep breath. Fuck. He had been holding you so close, any longer and he wouldn't have had enough time to escape without you noticing his bulge.
     You had scared him half to death, and holding your shivering form to his body had ignited his Alpha responses. To protect you and care for you on a level much deeper than just a friend and as his pact holder.
      He couldn't understand it. You had illicted responses like this from him before. Things a Beta shouldn't bring out in him. He thought it the pact...but even that could only explain part of it. It didn't happen to his brothers.
      But he had smelled you. You were Beta through and through, which only served to confuse him. You were unique...maybe the answer laid in your genes. You had decended from angels, from a long lost sister...perhaps the need was so strong because of that. It was the only answer he had.
     Pushing off of the door, he moved to his closet. You'd been shivering so hard in his arms, the clothes you had on wouldn't warm you fast enough for his liking.
      Grabbing a grey sweater, he couldn't help but smile. You'd look ravishing in it. Your breast accentuated because of the low cut and the fit, the color neutral enough you wouldn't look washed out or sickly, allowing your skin to shine.
     He also moved to grab a small pair of shorts. Yes, it defeated the purpose to warm you up, but your butt would look cute and it would give him an excuse to cuddle you in his bed. He'd just tell you it was so he could paint your toe nails...
     Knocking, he waited for your response before opening the door. The robe he had gotten you matched his own, Mammon knew not to steal it, so if it was a perfect replica, his brother shouldn't mess with it. Plus, it meant he got to look at your legs...
      You looked absolutely precious, cheeks heating as you pulled the robe down trying to conceal your exposed thighs. Your supple breast barely in the robe, as it didn't have room to accommodate your cup size. The cold water had hardened your nipples, the silk doing you no favors in hiding your predicament. Your thighs squeezing together... He looked to his phone to distract himself. "Sweater." He announced as he set it on the counter, trying not to think about how your breast felt under his hands, how he wished he could have taken his time and caressed them gently instead...
      "T-thanks." You made no moves to grab the clothes as you stood and shivered. It felt like if you moved, your pussy or ass would be falling out of the itty bitty robe.
      "Awww, are you feeling shy?" He couldn't help the words coming out. The need to tease you and see your cheeks heat had just overwhelmed him as he strode closer to you.
      "Yes, okay!" You scoffed. "Like absolutely everything is just hanging out."
      "Well, you don't have to worry, Mc. It's just me here." He purred, finger tracing down the front seam of your robe, down your breast and stomach, flicking the tie making you jump.
      Of course you didn't, you weren't some sexy alluring Omega. You slapped his hand away and went for your clothes that were haphazardly on the floor. Making sure to face him so you didn't expose yourself, you picked up your shirt and pants, keeping your panties and bra wrapped in between your garments.
         Changing the subject, Asmodeus grabbed the sweater and shorts and pressed them to your chest as he took your dirty clothes from your hands. "I'll add these to my wash. Also, I ordered some takeout." He turned and headed to the exit, "It should be here when you get out."
  ---
     He had made the right choice, snatching your clothes from you. Knowing you were going commando in his clothes was driving him wild, but he held himself together as he watched you. Your eyes focused on his television as your toes dried, slowly finishing your dinner. He had done absolutely everything he could to you, but after the bubble bath incident, he was hesitant to mess with your skin. He didn't want to irritate it anymore than it had been already.
      He watched you shift, . "What's wrong, hun?"
     "I just...it's nothing. I think the sweater is over kill now." You fanned yourself.
     "I'll be right back, I have just the top for you." He smiled as he went to his closet.
      It had been exactly what you expected. An incredibly small razor back style tank top, crossed with a crop top. It would look absolutely hideous on you, but with how sweaty you were starting to get, you'd deal.
      Giving a smile and a thanks, you went to his bathroom to change tops. Maybe you should run to your room and get a bra...this was definitely a top that needed a bra. At least the sweater had been thick...
      Splashing some cold water on your cheeks and neck seemed to help too. After cooling yourself, you went back to Asmodeus's bed.
      "I knew that top would look good on you." He smiled and gave you a wink as you crawled back onto his bed. Watching your breast shift as you maneuvered yourself, fabric sliding over your nipples, he drew his eyes back to your face to flash a smile. You were none the wiser.
     "What's the heat set at in your room? It's still like a sauna in here."
     He held the back of his hand to your forhead. "You are a bit warm, but try to give yourself some time to adjust. You only just now got out of the sweater.
       You had fallen asleep watching your program with Asmo. The Avatar passed out beside you, his soft breathing the only sound in the room. It still hadn't gotten any cooler. His room heater must be broken. He wouldn't notice the difference, demons ran at warmer temperatures.
     Sliding out of bed, you walked around his room, the air against your sweat soaked skin almost gave you a chill, but you welcomed it.
        Maybe the takeout wasn't sitting well with you. Your stomach had started to cramp and the sweating hadn't stopped.
     Halfway to the restroom, you let out a strangled cry. Slamming your hand over your mouth, you did your best to not wake Asmodeus. The last thing you wanted was for the Alpah to see you throw up.
       The heater was aggravating. Hotter and hotter and hotter. At this rate, you'd need a shower. Moving from beside the toilet, you only made it half way before your legs gave out.
      You must be really sick, the fact your legs had given out... you should call for Asmo. He could help.
     Calling for the Alpha...you wanted to call his name in a different way. From below him as he shoved his cock into your cunt over and over, finding release in you.
      You let out a shocked gasp. Your shorts were now soaked. You didn't pee. You know you didn't. Yet the warm wetness existed. Moving to crawl for the door, you fell to the floor when you slammed both hands over your mouth.
      Your top and shorts had moved just right. So sinfully slow dragging over your hot skin and illicting such a debauched moan.
      You began to panic. Something was really wrong! Maybe something you had ate had a weird effect on humans? That couldn't be though, you'd ate this before and been just fine!
       Warm hands on the side of your face made you moan as they directed your gaze.
        Asmodeus.
        Feeling his body heat against your skin, the smell of him...it was almost too much to take as your stomach cramped again, yet your body needed to be close to the Avatar. "Asmo?" Your voice didn't even sound like yours. Warm, seductive, holding a tone of begging where you hadn't put any.
      His nose at the nape of your neck only served to make you whine and lean into his touch. Fingernails scratching at his silk robe, desperate to touch more of the Alpha as your hips twitched. A whine leaving your lips as you looked up to him again. "What's wrong with me?"
     A deep breath left the Avatar and the heat from his lips made you shudder as you looked up to him. His thumbs wiped your tears away as he panted, eyes never leaving you. "You're in heat, Mc." His voice was deep, strained.
      "Beta. I'm a Beta." You whined as his fingers slowly traced down your throat, stopping just short of your cleavage, eyes never leaving your nipples poking through your thin tank top.
     "False status. It isn't uncommon." He continued to pant, finger ghosting over your breast as he watched you try to lean into his touch. "I spurred you to heat. Some Omegas just need to be...touched by Alphas." He whispered as he pulled his hand back. "It's the bodies response and it finally pushed you over the edge. When I ran my hands over your body today, along with the cold water shock to your system...it must have stressed your body to finally have your first heat." His voice was shaking. Your smell, helpless look as you shook on his floor... he stood and moved to his door. "I can call Solomon. He can help get y-"
     "No!" You whined, reaching out for him. "Please..." your body shook and the feeling in your lower stomach was growing. "Please don't leave."
      It was almost more than he could take. Your shorts soaked with slick as you were so needy. "Mc, if I don't, I could hurt you." He licked his lips as his hand cupped his balls, cock already twitching in need to be buried deep in your wet pussy.
     "Use me. Please. Asmo, your the Avatar of Lust." You squeezed your thighs as you tried to stand, only to fall to his floor again. A whine leaving you as you looked to him another cramp taking your form making you groan and more tears slip from your eyes.
      "Fuck." He groaned, closing the distance to pull you up from the floor. Your desperate pleas and touches were taking over his senses and before he could talk himself out of it, he had hauled you to his bed, roughly throwing you into his sheets and pressing his body to yours. "Last chance to say no." He ground his erection into your clothed cunt, a growl leaving him.
     "Fuck me. Use my Omega pussy to cum." You bucked against him with excitement in your eyes. "Fuck me as hard as you can. Please make this stop." You whined as you moved your shorts to the side.
     Asmos tounge was exploring your folds before you could ready yourself. Pulling his hair to hold him closer you fought with yourself to keep your thighs open and to stop fucking his face.
      The Avatars arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you further down to him as he held your hips down. Tounge lapping at your clit as he let out a satisfied hum.
      Usually he could pleasure a partner for hours, but your moans and the pleading tone of your voice made him feel a need to claim you that he hadn't felt in ages. The need to fill you overwhelming him as he pulled his robe open.
       You held your knees up to your chest, exposing yourself to him as he held your shorts to the side. His cock rubbing at your pussy making you rock against him as he slowly slid into your cunt. A deep moan leaving him as he watched you gasp in ecstasy.
      The sounds of flesh slapping filled the room as his free hand pulled your tank top up, breast bouncing as he fucked into you. His fingers finally being allowed to message your tits as he had wanted to all night.
      The sounds you made were like a melody. "Do you want me to cum inside of you?" He panted as he pulled your shorts apart at the seams and threw them to the floor.
     "Yes! Fuck Asmo, use me until you cum." Your begging voice driving him to speed up his pace and chase his high. Being so selfish during sex, he hadn't done this in years. Chasing his own high and neglecting his partner, he'd have to make it up to you later.
       Pulling out of you, he watched as more tears fell from your eyes in protest. "Shhh, I'll use you. Your being so good for me, Mc. Begging and pleading for your Alpha." He removed your hands from your knees and rolled you over, only to pull you up by the shoulders and sheath his cock in your pussy from behind. Licking and kissing your neck as he pleased, one hand held your waist as the other squeezed your breast roughly before playing with your nipple.
       His pace increased as he continued to claim you. Using you as he pleased until he came with a loud cry,  stroking your walls as deep as he could while he continued to unload his full balls completely inside of you.
      The sounds you made while he came inside of you had served to give him the best orgasm of his life. Your pretty voice begging for him, pleading for his seed to make the pain stop.
     He guided you forward as his cock slipped from you, a mess of slick and his cum dripping from your tight pussy as he made sure your shaking body was okay. You'd have some bruises from his selfish treatment, but you were sure to have more by the end of the week.
       Every time you woke, it was a fight to keep you hydrated and get some sort of food into you before slipping his cock back into your warm desperate pussy. On the third day, you seemed to have more of your bearings, but the desperation to have him inside of you still hadn't passed.
      On day seven, he had been gentle with you. Going slow and worshipping you like he should have from the start. Apologizing for not being able to stop himself the first two days from roughly fucking you whenever you woke.
      He had helped lots of Omegas through heat. It had been fun, but this...with you it had been a rollercoaster. One moment he was lost in his sin, nothing but the desire to cum fogging his brain, the next, he had been a worried mess about if you had gotten enough water. For seven days he hadn't even cared about his beauty sleep or beauty routine. It had all fallen to the wayside in favor of you. That's when he knew.
     It was you.
     You, who he'd chose to devote his life too in more than just a pact capacity. You, that he wanted to wake up next to everyday.
      The soft smile on his face as he played with your hair had only grown as he placed the pieces together.
     He'd have a lot to talk about with you when you woke.
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celosindion · 9 months
Text
A defenseless pet
Red Dead Redemption 2
type: One shot
Pairing: Charles Smith x m!reader
Warning: Kidnapping, slavery, blood, scratches, shooting, mental and physical abuse, starvation, dehydration, theft, death, cruelty to Animals.
Summary: Robbing drunks doesn't end well. This could be your end, after all you could say you were in hell on earth. But will this be your end?
Note: I've never seen anything like this before. It's time to change that! Overall, I found very little about Charles. It's sad, however... Have you seen this body? Either way, I hope you'll like it! (Instead of Charles I wanted to write something with Tonowari... But my love for cowboys was stronger)
words: 1597
signs/characters: 8840
sentences: 154
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It was supposed to be an ordinary day. An ordinary day for every inhabitant of this outback. Because finally the sun is shining, the sky is clear blue. Nothing to complain about, right?
It would have been good for you, too, if you hadn't had the idea to rob two drunken men a few days earlier. Well, everything would be fine, except when you were leaving the saloon, another person nudged you with the shoulder and all the drunks' looted things... They just fell out. The men, despite being drunk, apparently thought rationally and recognized the property belonging to them in the stolen items.
You quickly gathered your things and started to run, but the men ran after you. Despite the fact that your condition was among the better ones, they still caught up with you... And they were not the nicer people. They grabbed you near the general store and threw you against the wall, trapping you against it.
- Well, who do we have here? - The one holding you giggled, and the foul stench from his mouth hit your poor nostrils. The other, who was standing a little further away, responded quickly with a soft chuckle.
- Oh Ben, we have a missing boy here. - So who was holding you was named Ben...
- Rob, I guess we have to teach this shit some culture, right? - He stopped for a moment. He studied your face for a moment, analyzing it carefully. - If you steal, do it with style. - Saying that, Ben grabbed you by the shoulders, pulled you to him and then threw you with all his strength against the wall of the store.
You have lost the ability to breathe for a while, as if someone or something has squeezed your lungs. You had to get out of this situation somehow, they're going to shoot you!
- Gentlemen, take it easy. There's been a big mistake! Your things were on the floor. You know, found not stolen. - You laughed nervously. They were obviously not laughing, despite the fact that they had wide, disgustingly scary grins on their faces. - I'll give them to you and we'll go in peace, we don't have to fight each other as punishment.
Your proposal did not convince them, you could say that they even found an excuse to do something to you, after all, you lied. They knew it and you knew very well that they knew it.
- Oh no boy. We won't fight. Your punishment will be much worse than a simple fight. - Ben said. After that, all you saw was the man standing in front of you raise his hand. The next thing you remember is darkness. He obviously stunned you.
As soon as you woke up, you noticed that you were in a makeshift camp. You were scantily clad, wearing nothing but a torn gray shirt, dirty from the sweat of one of the bastards, and worn trousers. Your wrists were bound and your throat burned. You were thirsty and the fact that there was full sun in the sky didn't make it any better. You noticed someone approaching you. You recognized him as Rob.
- Come on, our little princess is awake? I sympathize with you boy... You will go through ordeal...- He stopped for a moment. - Although no, you could not have robbed us, otherwise you would not be in this situation. -He sent you a mean smile.
You didn't answer for a moment. Maybe it's because of where you are? Or by thirst and slowly growing hunger?
- Can i drink? - But you dared to ask. You hoped they'd have some heart.
- Oh my dear ... You will not drink and eat, you will lie in the heat until you die and we will throw your carcass to the coyotes for food. - So you were wrong.
And so it was three days since you drank and ate nothing, you lay in the sun and sometimes you were tied to horses that dragged you along the ground as sharp as glass. You'd somehow accept it if it weren't for the fact that these motherfuckers were eating and drinking and in front of you, making you even more thirsty.
You were already weak. You barely opened your eyes to greet the sun. Still, you've had some luck. These men went hunting. They weren't there long, so you decided to take the opportunity. You crawled to one of the tents to hide in the shadows. Unfortunately, they took all the food and drink with them, although you were grateful to have even a stupid shadow. Always something, right?
You slowly fell asleep, forgetting about all your ailments. Your paradise was interrupted by a scream and a strong tug on the bound hands.
- You little son of a bitch! Are you hiding in the shadows?! Your punishment will be much worse! - Before you could answer, the skin on your cheeks collided with the fist of one of your tormentors. They hit you again and again, they kicked you blindly.
- Wait Ben... Wait... I have another idea. Rob muttered with a strange, mysterious and scary note in his voice. Ben looked at him curiously. You didn't like it.
Rob fixed your legs with more knots so that you were spread apart, your chest resting on the ground.
You already knew what was coming. They both started to unzip their pants, laughing and throwing insults at you.
- You won't like it, but we will! - Ben chuckled. They wanted to rape you, that was obvious. You didn't have the strength to fight, to free yourself from the knots, so you just waited for it all to pass. The worst hasn't even started and it's already stopped.
- Hey you! - A low voice boomed. You opened your eyes and turned your head to where the voice came from. A tall, muscular man stood in front of the camp. He had long black hair. Native American. Beside him stood a blond, also tall and broad-shouldered. They both looked on in disgust. You didn't know if they were looking at you that way, at those bastards, or for some other reason.
Ben and Rob stood up and quickly zipped up their pants. They were clearly nervous about the intrusion of strangers on "their territory". But for you, it could be an opportunity. You'd either find someone good who would save you from trouble, or someone bad who might kill you later.
- What do you want? - Rob growled. The dark skinned man took a step closer to you.
- Did you kill all these animals? - He asked. As far as you know, Native Americans valued balance in their lives with animals. They thanked them for meat and other nutrients.
- What do you care? - The stranger apparently couldn't take it anymore and shot Ben. Aimed at the head, took his life. The blonde looked at you and shook his head. He approached Rob, who, at the moment of the shot, fell to the ground, covering himself with his hands.
- Do you see Charles? They even have their slave. - So the big one is named Charles.
- I'll untie him, and you kill the other one. - Charles came over to you and cut the ropes. He has freed you from this embarrassing and uncomfortable position.
- Thank you. - Your voice was hoarse. You sat down and rubbed your wrists. You already had wounds on them that bled.
A small noise caught your attention. The blonde didn't kill Rob, he beat him, threatening him that if he didn't tell the others to stop hunting animals, he would find him and kill him. Then he let go of Rob, who ran away until he was dusty.
-Arthur, why didn't you kill him? - Charles asked. So you already know their names. Charles and Arthur. Nicely.
- It's okay, he'll tell the others, and the mass killing of bison will stop, big man. - After that, Arthur looked at you and knelt beside you.
- What's your name boy? - Charles asked first.
-Y/N.
- What did they do to you? - He continued. For a moment, you didn't feel like talking about how you got into trouble, but there's a slim chance these men will help you.
- They didn't abuse me for no reason... I wanted to rob them... And they caught me and wanted to punish me. - You cut it short. Your hoarseness made itself felt as Arthur noticed.
- Charles, give the kid water. - Didn't need to be told twice. The muscular man took out a carafe of water and handed it to you. You thanked him and started drinking greedily.
- Do you have a place to go back to?
- Charles no.
-Arthur! Can you see the state he's in? We have to help him.- He convinced Arthur. The blonde thought for an eternity until he finally made up his mind.
- All right... Take him on horseback and return to the camp. I'll fix something else. - Arthur groaned in defeat and got to his feet. He went to look around the camp of these animal killers a bit.
- Then come on, Y/N. - Charles said and took you in his arms. He carried you as if you weighed nothing.
-You're safe in our camp...- he added after a moment.
- Thank you, if it wasn't for you, I don't know what they would have done with me later. - you kept thanking the man.
-We're not good, but we're not as bad as they are. They killed animals for fun. -Charles said thoughtfully. You quickly interrupted his thoughts.
- Animals are gentle. - You said without thinking.
- Just like you. -Your face blushed.
You knew this relationship would be interesting.
+++
I wonder if in that one shot, I didn't make Charles weak and cute xD
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anyroads · 10 months
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This collection of articles on Long Covid popped up in my browser this morning. Please read at least one of them.
I don't even know where to start putting all the frustration and anxiety caused by knowing how much vulnerable people and disability rights activists begged everyone not to forget them when Covid protections started getting rolled back. Everyone wanted to get back to normal and didn't care who got left behind. And now people are still getting left behind because most people don't want to observe basic safety measures that would take so little effort (masking in public places like supermarkets and public transit! vaccine availability! I'll pay! just let me have one every six months!). Which means people are still getting infected with Covid, and many of them are still developing Long Covid, except now so few people are even aware of it as a condition (some have actually forgotten about it even though they heard of it a year or two ago) that many aren't seeking help, and many who do simply don't have access.
Vulnerable people are worse off now than a year ago, because most countries have rolled back the safety measures that protected them, and they aren't receiving compensation for the fact that every day life is dangerous for them. This limits access to work opportunities, not to mention social lives.
So, in the interest of general safety, here's a brief primer on how Covid works that can inform your own safety steps:
Ventilation is your friend. Covid travels best in enclosed, unventilated spaces and is the most limited in its ability to infect outdoors. Outdoor events and gatherings are safest for your vulnerable friends, as long as they aren't too crowded. If you aren't infectious then it makes little sense for you to wear a mask outdoors unless you're in a crowded space. I still see people wearing masks on the street and then taking them off when they get on a bus. This is the opposite of what you should be doing.
Masks protect others from you more than they protect you. Which means that it's not enough for vulnerable people to wear a mask in enclosed spaces to protect themselves, others need to wear one too.
Viral load is a huge factor in infection severity. The less of the virus a person is exposed to, the more of a chance their immune system stands. This idea that "you're going to get covid anyway, so you might as well not worry" doesn't take into account that viral load matters. If an infectious person wearing a face mask breathes on someone, they'll shed much less virus than if they stick their tongue in that person's mouth or even just breathe on them without a mask. Basic safety measures can make the difference between a low-level infection and hospitalization for vulnerable people. It can also make the difference between low-level long covid symptoms and debilitating long covid.
Covid has a 48 hour incubation period. This means the virus takes 48 hours to settle in before you become infectious, once you've been infected with it yourself. If you think you've been exposed, start testing and masking after this period ends (this means if you went to a party where someone had covid, you start the 48 hour count from the beginning of the party, not from the time you left).
If you think you've been exposed, test and mask for 5 days once you start to do so. If you keep testing negative and don't have symptoms at the end of the 5 days, most research indicates you're safe and not infectious. This means it's been a full week since your potential exposure because 48 hrs + 5 days = 7 days.
If you test positive, even if you have no symptoms, test, mask, and try to stay away from others until you test negative. If you test negative but have symptoms, take a few days to keep testing, masking, and stay away from others. Covid can take a few days to show up on a test even if you have symptoms.
One vaccination isn't enough. The covid vaccines are effective for 4-6 months. After that, you need a booster. Please don't tell people you're vaccinated and safe if your last vax was more than six months ago, you're misleading them, even if unintentionally. Vaccination also doesn't mean you can't still pass on the virus if you get it, even if you have no symptoms (this is true for the flu as well).
Please keep protecting vulnerable and disabled people and advocating for them. Happy disability pride month.
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greatwyrmgold · 1 year
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I've been reading Bleach recently, after a certain professional shitbag recommended it. I'm only a dozen chapters in, but I have some thoughts.
First: If you've been reading my posts talking about new Shonen Jump series, I am sorry. But also, the thing I keep talking about is pacing. Shonen Jump titles are under a lot of pressure to perform well out of the gate; this means most of them cram as much of their premise and ideas into chapter 1, getting to "the good part" ASAP without having time to lay any groundwork for it.
Bleach isn't like that. Basic story facts are scattered throughout the first volume or so, giving more room for the characters and such to breathe. I dunno if Jump worked differently twenty years ago, or if Tite Kubo was more confident in his writing speaking for itself, or what, but I appreciate it.
Second: Maybe it's just that I binged Mieruko-chan earlier this week, but it feels like Ichigo seeing (normal) ghosts should come up more than it does. There aren't anywhere near as many ghosts around in Ichigo's world as Miko's, and they're a lot nicer (except the Hollows), but still.
Third: I was expecting the fact that Ichigo's physical body stays behind, unconscious, when he astrally projects or whatever to fight Hollows was just a handy plot excuse. A reason for Ichigo's broad-daylight swordfights to not be noticed, that would come up for the occasional gag or when it's convenient to the plot, but mostly be forgotten.
But nope! Characters have reacted to Ichigo going unconscious both times (so far) he's projected while outside his house—nothing plot-altering, but enough to make the characters feel like they notice the weird things he's doing and react to them.
Fourth: When Ichigo finds out Hollows used to be human (um, spoilers for chapter 3/episode 2 of Bleach I guess?), he's mad at Rukia for not telling him this, but doesn't really angst about having to kill ex-humans. He talks at them a normal shonen manga amount, but that's about all he does differently when he learns that his enemies used to be human. That feels like something that most series would give more focus (and angst) than it really deserves.
Fifth: There are a lot of nice little moments. Rukia stealing Ichigo's sisters clothes because she didn't pack anything for her not-so-brief trip to the mortal world. Orihime talking with her ex-brother. Rukia not knowing how juice boxes work. Some random guy getting mad at Ichigo for "copying his look," but nothing really comes of it; it's just a school Ichigo's been going to and has a history at. Rukia failing to comfort the dead kid in a parakeet, this makes sense in context.
Maybe this is just reiterating the pacing thing I started with, but...it's nice that there's space for things that don't really do anything except establish characters and tone. Also, I think Rukia's my favorite character.
Speaking of which, sixth: I kinda wish Rukia kept a bit more of her power. At the moment, it feels like she's basically only useful for spiritual cleanup and occasionally not dying long enough for Ichigo to show up. When she said she could only use a few Kidō spells, I thought that meant she'd use them to back up Ichigo in combat. But no, she's limited to a pretty normal level of physical abilities and some spells that don't do much.
Now, it could be a lot worse. Rukia refuses to be damseled, and the fight scene where she and one of Ichigo's mundane classmates work together to stall the Hollow proves that just because a character isn't as strong as Ichigo doesn't mean they won't get awesome moments. But it's still kinda disappointing.
I'm not saying Rukia should be as strong as Ichigo, mind. Rukia losing almost all her reaper power to Ichigo is the inciting incident, that's fine. I just wish she kept, like, 5% instead of 1%. Enough to keep some cool fight powers.
She's probably getting some power-up sooner or later, probably shouldn't complain too much. Anyways, that's six things I thought about in Bleach that I felt like sharing.
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folklauerate · 2 years
Text
Badly Done, an Emma/Kathony Drabble (pt. 1)
Kate let out on breath. Then another. Then, finally, another.
Her words replayed over and over in her mind; she knew she shouldn't have said it, but surely Mrs. Smythe-Smith had know she didn't mean it maliciously, right? Surely the lady had walked away, her daughter in tow, just to get some air? Surely--
"Kate."
He'd found her. How, she didn't know, but she'd long given up asking. It was a truth as old as time itself, a fact of the universe; wherever she went, Anthony would find her.
"Anthony," She said, turning around, brushing her hands on her skirts. Kate cleared her throat, trying to brighten up. "I'll be right back, I just needed--"
"Needed what, Kate?" He bit out, his anger barely restrained. "Needed to think of new ways to shame that poor woman? Needed to stand here and come up with yet another way to bat your eyelashes at Mr. Dorset and volley with his wits--wits he does not have, wits that decidedly do not match yours."
Kate found herself, for once, without the ability to form words. She'd rarely seen Anthony like this; without his composure, his calm, his eyes bright and furious.
Usually, she prided herself on being the only one who could read his moods, the only one able to sort through every twitch of his lips, the muscles of his jaws, and every flashing look in his eyes--his eyes--that gave away what he actually felt. Anthony kept most of his feelings hidden away, ever restrained, always the proper gentleman. But not to Kate, no. To Kate, he was as easy to read as an open book, and she prided herself on the fact that no one else seemed to be able to read him that way.
But if anyone else had walked by them in that clearing just then, they would have been able to read him just fine, his secret language of ticks and tells that only she could decode gone to hell. His face spelled out anger and, perhaps even worse, disappointment.
"Forgive me, I--" Kate swallowed. "I did not mean to cause any harm, I was merely--"
"Merely what, Kate?" He asked, thundering, begging. "What on earth were you hoping to achieve? Perhaps the most aggravating, embarrassing outing known to man? Were you hoping to put poor Mrs. Smythe-Smith in her place, degrade her beyond belief amongst those she should consider her friends? That woman has done nothing but love you, nothing but rave about you to all who might listen, but no; you had to sit there and join in on Mr. Dorset's incessant and uncomfortable remarks. You had to have a better, wittier quip than him at every turn, only caring to make him laugh--"
"If this is about Thomas, you may save yourself the trouble of lecturing me further!" Kate said, beginning to anger herself. An uncomfortable flush of embarrassment, of chagrin, was beginning to color her temper, but she shoved it away, instead reaching for the fire with which she and Anthony would bicker with. It was safer, and she clung to the familiarity like a lifeline.
This fight felt different.
"This is not about Mr. Dorset, or Thomas, as you insist on calling him!" Anthony scoffed, looking affronted. A bright pink blush colored his cheeks and the tips of his ears and Kate knew right then that he was lying.
"You have hated him and belittled him at every turn," Kate said, stepping closer to him, relishing the way that Anthony gathered in a deep breath, steeling himself in her presence. "You have been rude, you have been callous, you have been mean, when he has done nothing to you except have the audacity to--what, exactly? Dance with me when you yourself refused? Call upon me? Show me attentions?"
"You don't let anyone call upon you," Anthony said, lowly. "You don't wish to marry."
"Perhaps I changed my mind," Kate hissed back.
A lifetime of friendship, of love, of games of hide-and-seek, of running around the grounds of Aubrey Hall and Sharma Manor belied their closeness, but this was different. She was a breath away from him and it felt unlike anything else before, the wire of crackling electricity, a live current that always run between them, now close to its fuse. They were dancing on the edge of something that neither of them had dared to address before.
They both knew it.
Anthony's chest was falling with sharp breaths. His gaze dropped to her lips and Kate felt her tongue dart out and wet them, of its own volition.
"No," Anthony said, suddenly. He shook his head, turning away from her, recoiling away from her. "No. Whatever you are saying, what you are insinuating--Kate. Kate." He looked at her, his eyes beseeching, his tone barely restrained, his countenance dancing between furious and something akin to begging. "You must not distract me."
"I am doing nothing of the sort!"
"You must stop; you have diverted me at every turn, refusing to address your slight against Mrs. Smythe-Smith--"
"It is you that must stop, you--"
"Were she prosperous or a woman equal to you in situation, I would not be quarreling with you!" Anthony said, raising his voice a little. "But she is poor, even more so than when she was born. And should she live to be an old lady, she will sink further still. Her situation being in every way below you should secure your compassion! She has watched you grow from a time when her notice of you was an honor to this? Humbling her, laughing at her in front of people who would be guided by your treatment of her. It is deplorable. It is not done. It is not you, Kate."
They stared at one another. Kate was quite sure her mouth was open in shock. Anthony's eyes betrayed his feeling yet again and Kate hardly believed the shame, the betrayal, the heartbreak she saw in them.
"Badly done, Kate. Badly done."
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mossyscavern · 1 year
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Flowers in mount Todd, part 2.
___________________
“So... it keeps getting worse every night?” Duncan asked.
“N-not every night... most nights.” Sam answered, making a lavender flower crown, to pass the time. “That’s still just as bad- how are you so calm?!”
Duncan asked in a shout, Sam chuckled, placed the floral crown down and stared at Duncan in the eyes. “I’m not actually, I’m terrified for my life.” Sam told him. “I just decided to keep my mind busy, that’s all.” Sam answered.
“H-how... how long have you.. had this.” Duncan asked. Sam hesitated answering at first, after an hour Sam sighed and told him. “Since I was 5.”
“THE HELL!?” Duncan yelled out, making Sam flinch at the raised voice. “HOW-... how have you lived this long?” Duncan asked, Sam shrugged, not really sure how he survived.
“From what I remember from my doctor, it bloomed early, since I was too young, the procedure is very risky... but I don’t want to loose my feeling of love.” Sam answered, Duncan understood how Sam feels.
Loosing the ability to love somebody isn’t a very happy thing, he knows that from experience. While clutching his chest, he noticed Sam is on his third flower crown. “Uh.. how long have you been making those?”
“About two minutes each, this is my third so... 6 minutes.” Sam answered while continuing to gently weave the flowers. “Would you like one?”
“You have a lot of free time, don’t you?” Duncan asked, eying the purple floral crown being woven by the red head. “Well, gotta do something.. did you know most of us had this disease since we were was born?”
Sam added, making Duncan look up, sparking his interest. “Really?! How so?” He asked, intrigued by this information from the red head, Sam chuckled, stopping his flower weaving for a minute.
“Well... it’s kind of like a spark, if the flower hasn’t bloomed in your lungs it dies, making it seem like you never had it, when it does spark something, it can either come back and bloom or just bloom... a well known disease that knows what you feel.”
Sam said finishing the flower crown. “You didn’t answer my question, do you want one or not?” Sam asked, making Duncan chuckle a bit, then realise something. “What about the blood?” He asked, making Sam look up.
With a smile, he answered. “Don’t worry, the petals have been rinsed after I threw them up.” Duncan sighed in relief, then Sam asked him to lean down.
Duncan did as he was told and Sam put it on, then took it off, saying it’s not the right size, changing it to a slightly bigger flower crown that fit perfectly. “That’s better, should I make mark one?” Sam asked.
“Better not, he’s allergic to lavender, says it gives him a headache and nausea.” He answered, Sam understood, took out his note pad and drew a line across it.
Duncan smiled, thinking it’s sweet for Sam to think about his friends like that, then realised what would happen if he dies.
Not only would mark worry about sam’s well being, Sam would probably die earlier then most hanahaki carriers, he wanted to suggest surgery... but then remembered how Sam reacted when given the option.
With no other choice left, Duncan decided to suggest something neither he or his friend would do. “Hey Sam... can I ask you something?”
“Sure What is it?” Sam asked, Duncan took a few deep breaths, gathered his courage, then finally asked.
“Have you heard of an urban legend called wick?”
___________________
Here it is! part two of flowers in mount Todd! It’s a bit... complicated, but I think it’s neat. Hope you all enjoy this complicated... but neat little story.
A bit of a headcanon for the hanahaki au for wick, Sam has a habit of making flower crowns from the flowers he threw up, just rinse off the blood and your good to go!
A bit of a fun fact, about @vinehasnohopeleft’s oc mark, I based the lavender allergy off of my mom... except the nausea bit.. then again it could happen- I’m rambling again, sorry... Uh, enjoy!
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copperbora · 6 months
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My Horrible Adventures with Etsy
My journey with my new Etsy shop began after Redbubble changed some policies that at the moment, I can't remember what my fuss even was. In any case, I didn't like Redbubble's changes, and I had been chafing, wanting different things than Redbubble was offering, so I researched other print-on-demand platforms and immediately found Printful, which unlike Redbubble, partners with more conventional shopfront websites like Etsy, Shopify, Bigcartel and WooCommerce.
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Why Print-on-Demand?
I'm fucking poor. I full stop cannot afford to order and keep a physical inventory of product so for me print-on-demand is the only answer. I literally cannot even afford my own housing where I live (I have to live with my retired dad,) so physical product inventory is completely out of the question. Currently, I only make $1,200 a month with my day job... if I'm lucky. This is while living in the most expensive place for housing in the entire landmass of North America, the Canadian province of British Columbia. Moving isn't an option as I can't even afford housing where it is cheaper in Canada, plus doing so would remove me from my family which is a no-go socially. I don't have a partner to rely on for social support: I need my family which means that I need to stay put where I am in British Columbia, at least for now.
Where do the Woes Begin?
It started with Etsy repeatedly removing my listings despite all of my art being obviously hand drawn by me (and my being able to prove it with timelapse videos,) and the use of a print-on-demand service falling well within Etsy's rules. Frustrated, I added an infographic advertising the fact that my work is absolutely mine to every single one of my listings. This did nothing. I was still somehow violating Etsy's handmade policy and I couldn't figure out why.
This is their policy, by the way:
"Handmade on Etsy is a spectrum. On one end, we have makers — sellers who are literally making their items with their own hands (or tools). On the other end, we have designers — sellers who design their items but rely entirely on outside assistance or another business to help physically produce them. Many handmade sellers fall in the middle of the spectrum because they are both making and designing their items."
Then I got the email that I took a screenshot of and included here. Unless I fixed the unknown problem, Etsy was going to suspend my account and I wouldn't be able to get it back for at least six months. Frustrated and stressed, I desperately combed over the email and my Etsy seller account, struggling to figure out what I was missing. This can be easier said than done for me because I am dyslexic, so my brain tends to skip over some of the information that I read without me even knowing about it. I also have ADHD, so my ability to focus on non-fiction jargon is even worse than usual.
You would think a creative marketplace company like Etsy would understand that not all people's brain can easily parse written instructions, except there were no real instructions in the email at all. Printful never gave me instructions for this either, which is weird considering that they want you to sell their stuff on platforms like Etsy. There were no notes that I needed to go in manually to do anything. It was only because I had already been fudging around with my listings that I finally noticed that there was a widget called 'Core Details' which needed to be edited.
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At long last I had figured out that I needed to physically add a production partner - Etsy has a bulk editing option for this, but since I discovered that that option is extremely glitchy, I had to (in a panic, scared again that my shop would be banned,) edit and check every single listing to make certain that Printful was displayed as my production partner. Fixed at last, I breathed a sign of relief.
Etsy Didn't Tell Me..
...after my credit card was recently stolen that it was debiting the $.20 USD ($.28 CAD) against my future sales so when my aunt kindly bought a blanket off of me I couldn't understand why I wasn't being paid the full amount for the purchase, not even enough money to even cover its production cost. After a lot of stress and emailing I finally discovered that Etsy was charging my future sales instead of my new credit card. I still don't know if I managed to fix this or not, but in any case I took a financial hit on my aunt's sale. Hoping that I wouldn't have any more problems, I turned my mind back to other matters in my life, thinking that I could relax about my shop.
But Then I Got THIS Email!
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That's right, Etsy isn't going to give me 100% of my funds after fees for three months (even though my shop has already been open for longer than that.) Since most of the cost of my product listings is my cost, this means I won't even make profit on any of my listings for a quarter of a year. This is absolutely infuriating, especially because I didn't start this shop as a hobby, but because I need money to survive, because I want to be able to support myself financially with my art because conventional day jobs just aren't working for me. I raised the prices on my items but the burn still hurts. A friend mentioned that I could sell on Ko-fi instead which would net me 100% of the funds right away, so that I never go into debt for my sales even temporarily, so I began slowly adding items to my Ko-fi shop where I already had listings for commissions. (This is still a work in progress as I write this.)
Printful's Return Policy Sucks
This one isn't Etsy's fault, but it sure hurts too and Printful never directly explained what their policy was when I was getting into doing this so like a nincompoop I just left the default 30 day Printful return policy on my items. Simply put, because Printful is a print-on-demand company they do not accept returns or refund for buyer's remorse or even for incorrect sizing (no exchanges whatsoever.) Today I learned that an apparel item that I had sold was the wrong size for my customer so I looked up Printful's return policy and learned that Printful is never going to refund me for what I paid for my customer's item
I quickly got rid of the default Printful return policy on my Etsy shop, but now I'm going to be out $60 which I couldn't afford to lose in order to refund my poor customer. Coming from a decade of working in retail I feel bad not being able to accept returns or exchanges now, but I just can't afford to swallow any costs. It's bad enough how long Etsy takes to pay me even just 70% of of my sales; by the time that they do, Printful has already taken the item cost from me.
Apart from Ko-fi, I'm not Entirely Sure What to do Now.
At the moment I plan on leaving my cheaper listings - cotton t-shirts, stickers, toques/beanies and headbands on my Etsy store and treat it as a gateway to my Ko-fi. However, Ko-fi isn't really an option for growing my business because I have never been a successful artist when it comes to offering commissions and the only people who are going to readily find my Ko-fi are my friends and other artists. The problem with us creative people is while we really love supporting each other by buying each other's merch, we're also often kind of financially challenged because a good pecentage of us are neurodivergent (conventional day jobs are hard for us. It's like asking a Windows computer to run a program coded for Apple.)
I need to have my products available to strangers who have never heard of me before, who stumble across my work because they love wolves or other animals. So, I need to research a new commerce platform. Right now I'm muddling over learning more about WooCommerce and Weebly. I like the idea of a platform that posts ads on social media where strangers might encounter them and buy my work but I may need to launch a website which is yet another monthly fee.
I Haven't Earned Anything; I've LOST Money Instead.
Before I removed all the listings from my Etsy shop I had over 200 listings, each of which cost me $.20 USD ($.28 CAD) a pop. Since at least half of those had to be relisted after three months, all those listings really add up. Now, with Etsy refusing to pay me all of my money, plus ads that I paid for, and with the confusion with Printful's ridiculous return policy I think that I'm out at least $200 which I couldn't afford to spend. All of the Youtube videos about commerce platforms preach Etsy as the best site for artists to sell their work on but I almost want to remove my shop entirely.
I read multiple things about Etsy not being great for artists before I went into this venture but truthfully the Youtube videos that I watched which said the opposite really confused me. Despite its ridiculous return policy I still like Printful but until I make a proper amount of money with it I won't be able to offer refunds at all.
Mostly, I feel like a complete idiot because my dyslexia caused me to not immediately notice particular details* and I'm upset that Etsy and Printful weren't more transparent in their communications with me. The production partner issue could have been solved with a simple picture tutorial included in the email, or even just more detailed instructions instead of the ambiguous 'review your listings' that they wrote into it. Further, as many of my friends have mentioned, Etsy's seller fees are just plain high. It's definitely not a good platform for artists at all.
I'm very grateful to all of my friends and fellow artists for trying to warn people, warn me, that Etsy is no good. I'm upset that my glitchy brain required me to learn why Etsy sucks the hard way, by trying. Hopefully someday I can still find a way to support myself with my creativity and stop hurting from my complete lack of financial independance because normal work is too stressful for me (not to mention how it is damaging my drawing hand's wrist to the point that my doctor is talking about carpal tunnel surgery.)
I'm deeply glad that I never got around to printing any business cards for my Etsy shop; it will continue to exist, for now, as a gateway to my Ko-fi shop and hopefully someday other online marketplaces.
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*This isn't the first time that my dyslexia has screwed me over and it unfortunately probably will not be the last. It prevented me from pursuing my childhood dream career of becoming a wildlife biologist by making math an absolute agony of stressful frustration.
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gukyi · 4 years
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the love project | jjk
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summary: from running to mcdonald’s at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.
{college!au, friends to lovers!au}
pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!
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These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur. 
At least, that’s how it feels when you’re in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly you’re one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if you’re still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now you’re trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.
Okay, you’ll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. That’s what you get for putting it off until junior year, when you’re supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you don’t have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors don’t do math. They just don’t. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks. 
Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all. 
Your best friend would have to disagree.
“It’s not even calculus!” Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s just algebra! All you’re doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!”
“Easy for you to say,” you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, that’s right. You did. “You took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. It’s not even required for your major. You’re just a masochist.”
“Says the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, ‘all seemed so interesting’ and you ‘didn’t want to miss out.’” Jungkook rebukes pointedly. “Because your life would be so terrible if you didn’t take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.”
He’s got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkook’s favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isn’t going to single-handedly kill him.
Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he can’t take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table you’re sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode. 
Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when you’re sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasn’t devoted his entire being to, even if it’s something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they won’t even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments. 
But you are not “some of his other friends.” You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.
“Hey, don’t mess up my work—” You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. “Wait, how did you do that?”
Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did. 
He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like it’s nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself. 
“Does that help?” He asks when he’s finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half. 
“It actually does,” you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”
“Anything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,” Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. “Except coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.”
“Aw, you can do it,” you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. “It’s also too late to change your major now, so you’re stuck.”
“Wow, thanks for the encouragement,” Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. “You should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.”
“I would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,” you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesn’t get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. “But thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”
“Of course,” Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semester’s worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because it’s you. 
“My very own personal genius,” you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. It’s something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each other’s bodies like it’s second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go.”
Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. “Like I’d ever let you,” he says.
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There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. It’s something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that he’s a bad essay writer, even though he’s not), but at this point it’s cemented in stone—he’s a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that he’s built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off. 
The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldn’t help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything. 
So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that I’m in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong. 
“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like they’re Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. There’s a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds. 
It’s not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you. 
“My Photography class is gonna be the death of me,” Jungkook exclaims, exasperated. 
“I thought you liked it,” you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. He’s going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.
“I do,” Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. “But this project is ridiculous. I don’t even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.”
“What do you have to do?”
Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. “I mean, it’s only really a week long. So I guess it’s not too bad. But we’re supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.”
You scrunch your nose up in confusion. “I might be wrong, but isn’t that what photography… is?” You ask cluelessly. 
“Yes,” Jungkook argues, “but also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. That’s it.”
“Oh,” You say dumbly. 
“And our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,” Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasn’t made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. “But I don’t even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! I’d basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!”
“I’ll do it,” you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. There’s no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you. 
Jungkook’s eyes pop out of his head. “What?”
“I’m serious,” you insist. “Think about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?”
“Well..” Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. “Would you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, I’m literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.”
“Like we don’t already do that on our phones,” you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years. 
“A camera is different from a phone,” Jungkook protests weakly. 
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m just saying. It won’t bother me,” you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so… weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he won’t have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But he’s being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. “But you don’t have to,” you backtrack. “It was just a suggestion.”
He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost. 
Quite frankly, you don’t know what all the holdup is about. 
“You’re… sure about this?” He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if that’s even an issue. “You’re cool with being photographed and everything?”
“Only because it’s you,” you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you can’t see. “Yeah,” you say loudly, trying to bring him back. “I’m fine with it.”
He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. “Okay then. I guess it’s settled. You’ll be my subject,” he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. It’s probably nothing, so you don’t think too hard about it.
“Can you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?” You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. “It’s the first time we’ve ever gotten to be part of a project together!”
“Yay,” Jungkook says, lifeless. 
“How about a photo to commemorate it?” You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. “This can be the start of your portfolio.”
“Fine,” he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. He’s a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.
You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. “How do I look?” You ask, scrunching your eyes together. 
Jungkook’s finger hovers over the silver button. “Perfect,” he tells you, voice soft and honest. 
Click.
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“So, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?” You ask as you flop around on Jungkook’s bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesn’t exist. You don’t even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?
From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkook’s fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. “I don’t know,” he says. “He said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say. When you’re around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they aren’t exactly award-worthy photographs, but it’s not a physically demanding task. 
“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Hypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.”
“Well, how many do you have now?”
It’s been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already you’ve lost track of how many photos he’s taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didn’t realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, he’s practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lighting’s bad, even if you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, even if it’s midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.
You wonder what the hell he sees in you. 
“A lot,” Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement. 
“Have you counted?” You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk. 
Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize what you’re doing until you’re standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos he’s taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows. 
It’s from the library yesterday. You didn’t even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didn’t even hear it click. 
He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why. 
“What, I’m not allowed to see?” You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?
“No,” Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. “I mean, it’s a surprise. You get to see when it’s finished. I still have to… uh, edit. And stuff.”
“Edit? You think I’m that ugly?” You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.
Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. “What, no! I don’t—I don’t think you’re ugly.”
You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations. 
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. “You don’t have to show me. I’m just excited. No one’s ever taken photos of me like this before.”
“I would,” Jungkook speaks up softly. “If you asked. I would.”
“I know,” You say. You’re not sure if there’s a thing in this world Jungkook wouldn’t do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. “I know.”
 “What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair. 
“Just another reading, like always,” you dismiss, because you’re positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You don’t even want to hear about it. “But I could use some help on Astronomy.”
Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems. 
The truth is, you didn’t really need help with this unit. Astronomy’s gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when he’s sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when he’s right beside you, in a place where you know you won’t lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that he’ll always be there for you. 
When he’s finished, Jungkook doesn’t get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that there’s something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re with him.
“I didn’t know you took so many photos,” you say.
“I never want to miss anything.”
“You should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.”
“No, you don’t. Don’t say stuff like that.”
“You don’t think I’m ugly?” You ask him, for real this time. It’s not that you think he’s going to say that he does, it’s that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. He’s right there, how could you miss him?
“No,” Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. “Why would I ever think that?”
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At the end of the day, you can’t really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkook’s trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. He’s seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. He’s seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. He’s seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship. 
You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you aren’t getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, you’ve been pretty successful, which either means you’ve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkook’s gotten better at hiding it. 
Either way, he’s got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so you’re not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio. 
Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkook’s little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic. 
This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since. 
It’s more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkook’s relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have. 
“So, how’s you and Jungkook’s little photography fling going?” Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way she’s wiggling her eyebrows. 
“It’s not a fling, and it’s fine,” you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. “Stop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.”
“Good, because they’ve all probably noticed the way Jungkook’s been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,” Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no one’s listening in. 
You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. “It’s not like that and you know it.”
“Don’t you think it’s even a little strange that you’ve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like you’re a model and he’s some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?” You can practically see Maisie’s face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.
“No, it’s what we agreed on,” you remind her for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing weird about this. You’re helping him with a project, what more could it be? “Jungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.”
“Hmm… wonder why…” Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once. 
“You’ve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “You know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.”
“Friends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,” Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word “project” right in front of you.
“Friends that help each other out because that’s what friends do,” you correct. “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money you’ve bet on us getting together.”
Maisie gasps. “I have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!”
“Don’t think I don’t see you and Jimin’s damn Venmo history.” You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. It’s the first edition, and it’s battered beyond belief, but it’s better than paying for it. “Just this, thanks.”
“The only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,” Maisie comments snidely. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time you’ve known each other. Isn’t that proof enough?”
“You want me to go on a date with someone?” You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this. 
You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. It’s not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right? 
The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.
“Fine, I’ll go on a date with someone. If it’ll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,” you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins. 
“You guys would have really cute babies, I’m just saying,” Maisie points out like it’s nothing. 
You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. “See you, Maise.”
You’re barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention. 
“Y/N!”
You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook’s devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you don’t even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind. 
Another voice breaks you from your trance. 
“And here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,” Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide. 
The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes. 
“I’m kidding,” Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. “They’re just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But don’t they look so cute together?”
“Are you guys dating?” One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to. 
Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, “No, we’re just friends.” Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose he’s gotten just as sick of explaining as you. 
“Bummer, right?” Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. “But I’m working on that, so don’t worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dorms…”
The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in. “Weird, right? Even high-schoolers think we’re together.”
Jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is he’s thinking about, what it is you’re not seeing. Lately, it’s felt like there’s something on Jungkook’s mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you. 
“Hey, you alright?” You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have class soon?”
“Oh, shit, you’re right, fuck,” you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess you’ll be using one of your allotted absences today. “Thanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?”
“I’ll text you,” Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like you’re missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you? 
What do you not know?
By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.
This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?
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Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.
You’re no expert in app design, but its simplified “yes or no” mechanic has you swiping through people like it’s an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesn’t make you laugh within the first sentence. 
Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them? 
Even if Tinder wasn’t your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someone’s designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if they’re worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. That’s the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.
Besides, it’s not like you had very many options at your disposal. You don’t trust Maisie to set you up with someone because she’ll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesn’t sit right with you.
So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just archaic.
An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, you’ve got plans with a nice senior boy whom you’ve never met. 
And for the first time in a very long time, there’s something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.
The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with someone that you’ve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?
You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like you’re about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.
You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks it’s inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.
“Hey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? I’ve had a day,” he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.
You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater you’ve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. It’s impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It’s impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.
The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor. 
“Whoa.”
“Do you think it’s too much?” You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? It’s just Jungkook. 
“Too much for what?” Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if he’s determined to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Where are you going?”
“I think we’ll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. “I’m… going out. With someone.”
“Like,” Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. “On a date?”
“Yeah.”
It’s a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkook’s already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that you’re going out on a date. 
“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is lifeless. “Do I know them?”
“No, uh, it’s just some guy I met on Tinder. I don’t know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I haven’t really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so we’re probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if we’re still in the mood, and—” You cut yourself off, so nervous that you’ve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. “Why? Do you think it’s too much?”
“You use Tinder?” Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like he’s shocked to hear this. 
“Yeah…” you trail off. “Why?”
Jungkook freezes at the question, but it’s not because it seems like he doesn’t have an answer. It’s because it seems like he does. Only it’s an answer he doesn’t want to share. 
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he eventually settles on, shaking his head. “You, uh, you look good.”
“You think? I feel like it’s a lot. I don’t know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,” you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. “Should I change into pants, or anything?”
“No, no, I think that’s fine,” Jungkook says with an honest smile. “You look nice like this.”
“It’s probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,” you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. “I miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doing—?”
You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you. 
“I, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,” Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. “Since you’re all dressed up.”
“Seriously?” You ask in disbelief. 
Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. “Just one.”
He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks he’ll miss it. 
Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it. 
And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesn’t feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory. 
Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away. 
You wonder what he sees. 
(You wonder if it’s as beautiful as what you see.)
“Have fun tonight, okay?” Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.
You nod. “I will. And if I don’t, then I’ll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders. 
“But I want to. So I will. Okay? I’ll text you,” you promise. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you.”
Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door. 
“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. “I hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.”
There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.
“Even if it’s not,” you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, you’re still here. “I know you’ll always be there to take care of me afterwards.”
Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door. 
For some reason, there’s a part of you that wishes you never even left. 
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The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind. 
You look down at your phone. It isn’t even nine o’clock yet. 
[November 7th, 8:48PM]
You: you still game for that movie?
[November 7th, 8:50PM]
Jungkook: you finished your date already?
You: is that a yes or a no
Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that
You: you’re gonna get robbed one day and it’s gonna be by me You: i’m coming over
The walk from your apartment to Jungkook’s is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.
Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels you’re wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, you’d probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side. 
But you aren’t defeated. You didn’t have the world’s most spectacular date, but the night isn’t over just yet. 
Jungkook’s waiting at his front door by the time you arrive. 
“Eight minutes, huh? You’re getting old,” he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist. 
“Your counting is just off,” you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him. 
“How’d it go?” Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them. 
You shrug. “Eh. It was okay.”
“Just okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didn’t have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didn’t turn out to be everything you wanted. 
“I don’t know,” you admit, looking over at him, dejected. “It just—I just had this feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.”
Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, you’re not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you weren’t going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing. 
Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter. 
“Oh,” Jungkook says lamely. “Well, I’m sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.”
“It’s alright,” you assure him. “Can we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?”
To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As he’s queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesn’t even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that he’s worn so much it still smells like him even after it’s come right out of the wash. 
He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them. 
“Ready?” You ask, breaking him from his resolve.
Jungkook blinks wildly from where he’s seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. “What? Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Then hurry it up, Mister,” you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. It’s instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. “All good?” You ask, looking up at him. 
Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, you’ve never seen him more at home. “Always, when I’m with you.”
The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face you’re almost certain all he’ll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and there’s no more room left on his card. 
“Guess I’ll have to charge this thing, then,” Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black. 
“You aren’t going to include any of those, are you?” You ask, an eyebrow raised. 
Jungkook shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Don’t you have enough?” You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you don’t know about. There’s certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. That’s for sure. 
“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you don’t have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body. 
The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. There’s no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when you’re strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is. 
“It’s due on Monday, right?” You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you. 
“Yeah. I’m almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.”
“I want to see it.”
“What? My project?”
“What else?”
“It’s just a project, it’s not that exciting.”
You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. “What do you mean ‘it’s not that exciting’? It’s your photography project. You’ve spent a whole week working on it.”
“Yeah, but it’s just you, you know?” Jungkook objects. “Like, you know what you look like. It’s just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said it’d be.”
“That’s exactly why I want to see it,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You took pictures of me for a whole week. Don’t you want to share them with me?”
“If you really want some of the photos, I’ll send you some, but you don’t need to see the whole portfolio, you know? It’s just for my professor,” Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. What’s the big deal? It’s not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didn’t know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Where’s the harm in that?
“Why are you getting so hung up on this? It’s just photos,” you say with a frown. 
“Why are you getting so hung up on this?” Jungkook challenges back. 
You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further. 
“Do you promise to show me eventually?” You ask, hopeful.
Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work he’s being. “One day,” he declares. “One day, I will.”
And that’s good enough for you. 
You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. There’s just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.
You’re on the verge of slumber when Jungkook’s voice breaks through.
“Why didn’t you think your date would work out?”
“I don’t know,” you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. “It just felt wrong.”
“How do you know what feels right?”
Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, you’d answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkook’s hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that can’t be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him. 
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The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when you’re in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet. 
So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?
Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkook’s apartment. 
The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And it’s been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they don’t all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester. 
Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that it’s the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth it’s over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isn’t even there. 
Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, you’re just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that. 
Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook won’t just show you himself. Why he’s being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly what’s in it. For God’s sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. It’s like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?
Whatever. You aren’t going to force it if he doesn’t want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, he’ll finally decide that the time is right. 
“I’m so fucking tired,” Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where he’s sitting on your bed, dead inside. “I need a break.”
“Are you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?” You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk. 
Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room. 
You and Jungkook’s best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each other’s cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. It’s worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind. 
Unfortunately, it’s hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when it’s been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world. 
As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well. 
The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkook’s laptop screen. 
There’s just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you can’t help yourself, you peer over to see what he’s written. 
What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?
Hard to say that I have. I don’t think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her. 
What?
Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?
Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my life—a single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 
This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But there’s just one more question left on the page… 
This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?
Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 
“Y/N?”
You hadn’t even heard the kettle whistling. 
“Jungkook,” you say, breathless, caught red-handed. 
“What are you doing?” He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom. 
“Uh—”
“Were you reading my computer screen?”
It’s not like you could say you were doing anything else. 
“I couldn’t help myself, I came over here to check my phone since it’s been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I just…” you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head. 
(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now. 
If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over. 
I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)
“What do you mean, how you feel about me?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because you’re staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease. 
“Y/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?” He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart. 
“Because I just had to know, okay?” You shout back. “I had to know what you were hiding from me.”
“So you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?” He demands, storming over to you. 
“So you are hiding something?”
“That’s not the point, the point is that—”
“What are you not telling me, Jungkook?” You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. “Why won’t you show me your goddamn portfolio? If there’s really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? I’m your best friend, I’m the fucking subject of your project? Don’t I deserve to see it? Why won’t you show me?”
“Because then you’d know!” Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving. 
He looks so strained. So tired. Like he’s been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. You’ve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless. 
“Jungkook—?”
“You’d know, goddamnit,” Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.”
“Know what? What would I know?” 
Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “That I’m in love with you.”
The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating. 
“You’re in love with me?” You ask him. 
“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Jungkook admits. “Or at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”
You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. “You must have known I’d never let that happen, hmm?”
Jungkook smiles softly. “I was scared. Can you blame me? You’re my best friend.”
“And you are mine,” you remind him. 
“It’s just—” Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. “We’d known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didn’t want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and that’s you, that’s always been you, so I—”
“Jungkook,” you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. “Just, shut up, okay?”
And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain. 
You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkook’s eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing. 
But barely a second more passes before he’s scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he can’t get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure. 
He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth. 
He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about. 
By the time you part once more, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out. 
“See?” You point out softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”
Jungkook looks positively dazed. “I think I need to lie down.”
“Ooh, was I that good?” You tease.
“I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely fucking dreaming.”
Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process. 
You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world. 
“Is this real?” He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you real?”
“Just like you,” you promise him. “I didn’t know this is what we had been missing, all this time.”
“It wasn’t missing,” Jungkook assures you. “It was just hidden.”
“I love you,” you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. “I think I always have. You just needed to say it first.”
“Oblivious as always.” Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. “But I’m glad. If this is what it would take, then I’m glad.”
“You wouldn’t change anything?” You ask him, eyes wide and curious. 
It’s hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that he’s loved you, how long it’s been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. It’s hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side. 
“No,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I have you now. Why would I?”
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What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?
Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadn’t learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.
Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?
Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her. 
This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?
Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, “Remember that?”
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the-winter-spider · 3 years
Text
Element: Part 2
Characters: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Hints around possible suicide attempt, angst
A/N: Got this out a lot faster than i thought, once again i didnt read thru it lol so please excuse if there is any errors!
Word count: 2.1k
Part one
****
Bucky reached into the water pulling you out with his right arm, he let a gasp out when the temperature of the water touched his skin it was ice cold sending goosebumps all throughout his body. You were fully clothed, limp, cold to the touch, skin pale, lips blue. Not like he was used to, this wasn't the you he grew to love. You were radiant, your eyes were the most beautiful colour they reminded him of the night sky the way they shined like the stars, your lips were plump and filled with colour, looking at them now he almost couldn’t remember if they were more red or pink, he could feel his palms getting clammy, panic was running through him, when was the last time he saw the sparkle in your eyes? You were his sun, you were warmth, in this moment he felt regret he never got to kiss your lips.
He set you gently down on the tiled floor, you laid there lifeless, Steve was already kneeling down getting ready to start chest compressions, anything to bring you back, to Bucky, to him, to the team.
“No no no” Bucky mumbled.
“Vitals?” Tony frantically asked the AI
“No heartbeat detected”
Bucky didn’t know but tears were streaming down his face, so much regret was running through his veins, he didn't try hard enough and he knew that now but he didn't want to push you, he hated when Steve or Sam tried to push him. He wanted to hold you more and not like this, he wanted to feel life in your body, not this, all Bucky had ever known was death after being used by HYDRA for all those years and when they were finally out his head, everyone he knew before HYDRA were dead, except Steve of course but you brought life back into the super soldier something he was almost positive would never happened and Bucky was barely ever wrong but with you it felt so right.
The water surrounding them slowly started to evaporate, they realized it wasn’t coming from the tap in the tub, you made all the water and the fact it was disappearing, panic set in. “Where's medical?!” Tony frantically shouted.
“They are on there way” FRIDAY announced
Bucky couldn’t wait; he waited his whole life and it was a long one to finally be free and find someone like you, it felt like hours had passed since he busted down your door but he knew it had only been seconds, if not minutes. He scooped you up off the floor holding you in his arms as tightly as he could, he felt like they were wasting time sitting here doing what felt like the bare minimum when he knew the kind of medicine Tony had, he was a Stark after all and from being in the war he knew every second counted, he had a small hope that if he started running towards the medic wing your chances would be better rather than waiting around. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you fearing that this would be one of the last times he saw you and he wasn't prepared for that. You were so limp in his arms, water no longer dripping off of you. As he passed the rest of the team, all he could hear was gasps. He met the medical team half way, setting you on the stretcher before they ran off with you to med bay, Tony and Bruce trailing close behind them.
Bucky was frozen in place, he couldn’t feel anything, he felt like he was in a dream, a bad one, not like the nightmares he was used to this felt much worse, he kept hoping that he would wake up and leave his room to find you in the kitchen eating your morning cereal with Steve and you would give him the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen in all his years, the way he felt your eyes light up and the sun got a little brighter when you were near him, you thought he didn’t notice but Bucky noticed everything with you, or he thought he did. He doesn't even know when he stopped noticing things with you, or when you started to ignore the team, especially him. Part of him didn't even want to think about how long ago it started happening, how long you were truly alone.
Steve placed his hand on his best friends shoulder giving in a gentle squeeze “they’re gonna do everything in their power to get her back Buck”
Bucky couldn’t stop but replaying the last couple weeks or was it months? In his mind, did you do this on purpose? Was it an accident? Why did you do it? He remembers the first time he decided not to ask you to come with them. Sam, Steve, Natasha and him were going to try out this new chinese restaurant as they were coming up to your door, he was hoping for a miracle and you would open the door already ready to come with them and it would sort of be like a date but not really but he would pretend it was, but it didn't happen and he wasn’t sure how much more his heart could take of being shot down all the time so he decided he wasn't going to ask you tonight, when they finally reached your door, Steve stopped “Buck, aren't you going to ask y/n if she wants to come?”
Bucky's eyes went to your door, he doesn't remember the last time he was in your room, laying in your bed with you talking about anything and everything. He felt a pain in his chest and he mumbled out “No point” shrugging his shoulders leaving the 3 of his friends behind him making his way to the elevator. He heard them laughing, probably at him he felt pathetic he was a super soldier for christ sake but he couldn’t muster up all the strength in the world to ask you on a real date just him and you, or to admit his ever growing feelings for you, so he did what he knew best, kept quiet and to himself, he just wish he knew then he was hurting you in the process too, not just himself.
Everyone was patiently waiting in the common room just outside med bay. Bucky couldn't take his attention away from the plum tree just outside the window, when you grew it for him he swore his heart skipped a beat, that was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for him, he still remembers that day like it only just happened. He had just left the gym and was heading back to his room when he saw you laying down in front of his door reading whatever book you were reading, you must have been deep into the book because you didn't notice him standing directly above you, he whispered “Good book?” making you jump and drop the book on your face, he couldn’t help but chuckle, he threw his towel over his shoulder offering you a hand up.
“It was a good book till i lost my place” You huffed
“Sorry doll” he smiled, something he only ever did around you, the real kind of smile, the kind that made his cheeks hurts not the fake kind he did around everyone else, he watched you dust yourself off and run your fingers through your hair, fixing yourself up, he didn't understand why you already looked perfect “So what do i owe the pleasure of having a beautiful girl like you waiting on a guy like me?”
Giggling “Well i have something for you, a gift” you blushed, he watched you rock back and forth on your feet, he was getting that feeling in his stomach again he wasn't sure what it was but it was warm, something he didn't think he deserved to feel again let it actually happening but here it was, with you.
He quickly showered and changed, when he stepped out of the bathroom you hadn’t moved you were still sitting on the edge of his bed, flipping through your book, trying to figure out where you left off, when you felt his presence you looked up, your eyes meeting his “You ready to go Buck?”
He nodded making his way to the door “after you doll”
It was silent when the two of you were making your way wherever you were leading him, he didn't ask any questions he would follow you anywhere, anytime no questions asked. You made your way outside to a tree he doesnt think he seen before, because it was the only tree there, he watched you start moving your hands with elegance, he was and always has been in complete awe of your abilities, with a doubt in his mind you were the most amazing person to have ever come from HYDRA. He had no idea what the gift was but he knew he would love it, whatever it was because it was from you, but when Bucky saw something start growing on the tree his eyes went wide “How did you know?”
“I overheard you talking to Steve about them the other day, how you missed them and the ones from the store didn't taste the same” You spoke softly, folding your hands behind your back looking down shyly. Bucky made his way to the plum tree picking one before he made his way over to you, he used his right arm to put a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lightly touching your cheek while doing so it sent shivers down your spine and butterflies in your stomach, you lifted your gaze to meet his. He took your hand in his, giving it a light squeeze “this is my favourite gift”.
“The tree or that one plum?” you giggled, pointing at the perfect plum in his hand.
He took a moment before responding to you, really taking everything in, the view, his feelings because he was feeling a lot of them, some new some old, the emotions he could see in your eyes, how perfect you truly were but also how right it felt having your hand in his, his tongue ran over his lips “You” he breathed out, you kept your gaze on him for a few more seconds before you felt heat rising to your cheeks, looking back down, his thumb rubbing circles on your hand, he wasn't sure if you felt what he was feeling but when a single butterfly landed on the plum in his hand, he knew.
Bucky wasn't the best with time, after being in and out of cryo for so long he didn't care to tell time, so he wasn't sure how long he was standing here staring at the window lost in thought till he was finally pulled away from it, he felt Steve come up from behind him, he cleared his throat, placing another hand on his friends shoulder looking out the window to see what Bucky was staring at for the last hour.
“Y’know she grew that for me?”
Steve smiled “I know because you wouldn’t shut up about it” Bucky let out a soft chuckle, turning to face his friend “I messed up Steve”
Steve didn’t say anything he didn’t know what to say and Steve almost always knew what to say but he couldn’t comfort his friend because it was unknown if you were alive or not, he knew you were a fighter but what he saw, you were lifeless, FRIDAY even confirmed there was no heartbeat, he wasn't trying to give his oldest friend false hope, so in the meantime he decided that just being there was enough.
“I don’t understand, she can breathe underwater can't she?” Natasha finally spoke to no one in particular, turning all heads towards her before anyone could respond when the door opened. Tony walked in “She can” all eyes were on him, something he usually loved but it made him feel uneasy today. It was quiet, Tony sat down took off his glasses, he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers before looking Bucky dead in the eye “they found a heart beat, its shallow but its there”
***
TAGS: @majo240820 @vicmc624 @jessyballet @jhiddles03 @mggpleasedontlookhere @smallangryandpink @lilxberry @thisisnotangel @hereforalongtime512 @austynparksandpizza
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oitommothetease · 3 years
Text
Invisible String (9/?)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)
Word Count: 2k words
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You weren't a morning person, hell, you weren’t even a person in the morning. Therefore, when you woke up to two kids playing with your hair and jumping on your bed, you wanted to strangle them or shove them on the floor. But again, you loved those little demons so you just groaned loudly, clearly irritated and you decided to keep your eyes closed, hoping that your ignorance will make them leave you alone. You squeezed your eyes shut and didn't open them until you heard a familiar voice chuckling.
“Carol told me you aren't a morning person, but this-” James didn't finish his sentence, his lips breaking into a cheeky grin, and as much annoyed as you were at his teasing, you kind of thought he looked gorgeous. Who looked so gorgeous this early in the morning? A smile made its way to your face and you instantly wiped it off, feigning offense.
“Carol? You're already on a first-name basis with my sister?”
“Aw, don't worry, doll. I'm just trying to be friendly with your family or should I say my future family as your mother reminded me ten minutes ago,” he pestered, moving towards you to hand you the cup of coffee in his hand. Bucky winked teasingly when you accepted it, and you mumbled a ‘thank you’.
That pet name made your stomach do some somersaults and you didn't trust yourself enough to speak. It's not like the first time he called you ‘doll’, in fact, he had been calling you that the moment you started fake dating. But it was something about the way he said it as if the word was made for you and nobody could say that word unless it wasn't voiced by him for you. He didn't notice the flush in your eyes and even if he did, he didn't mention it.
“That’s it. You’re done hanging out with my family,” you articulated, “You are officially infected.” 
“Don’t be like that, doll. Come on, breakfast’s ready.”
At the age of 18, when you were finally a college girl, you decided that breakfast was a myth created by Satan. When you lived with your parents, the breakfast consisted of extravagant food like pancakes, waffles and fruits. Once you moved away for college, your breakfast shifted to coffee and maybe a toast if you had the time before your first lecture. And the second you were independent, coffee became your boyfriend, keeping you up at night and also, your best friend, keeping you up in the morning without dozing off in classes.
So, sitting again at a dining table with your family and fake boyfriend/boss was very awkward, to say the least. But of course, your sister had the magical ability where she took an awkward silence and converted it into an uncomfortable conversation.
“We hope we didn't wake you up last night. Nick and I tend to get loud sometimes,” Carol joked and you coughed, choking on your food, and James laughed awkwardly. 
James' hand instinctively came to your back, running calming circles with his palm and you shot a deathly glare to your sister. 
“Oh, we know all about that,” James teased, bringing your chair closer to him. Your eyes widened and you whipped your head towards him so quickly that your neck hurt. What was he saying? This man, your boyfriend, fake boyfriend was a completely different person than your boss (not that you were complaining). He was funny, charming, he made you feel comfortable and something else you weren’t ready to point out just yet.
You could see yourself falling for a man like James. No, he is your boss and sort of criminal. Get your shit together, you told yourself.
After the very awkward breakfast, thanks to Carol. Your mother told you to show James around town and you would have said no but that meant you’d have to stay at home with your family, which was worse. So when James accepted your offer to go to your favorite burger place nearby, you were relieved.
“This burger is amazing, but nothing compared to Barry’s,” James stated. 
You nodded your head, chewing the remnant of food in your mouth properly before speaking, “Nothing compares to Sally and her food.”
You liked being with James, everything about him made you want this, the real thing with him, not the whole faux boyfriend play. You wanted him and you were sure that he didn’t. One look at him was sufficient for anyone to know how handsome he was, and how oblivious he was to the waitress ogling him. He didn’t spare her a glance, he was probably used to the attention that he stopped caring about it. Of course, if you weren't overthinking at the moment, you would have noticed that he didn't care about anyone else - well, except you. 
“The waitress was totally checking you out,” you informed James. You were very jealous, but you wouldn't stop your crush on your boss to stop him from living his life. He had already sacrificed a lot for you, you didn't want to cock-block him on top of that.
“No, she wasn’t,” he huffed, looking at you for any sign that this conversation displeased you the way it did him.
“I swear she was,” you said, “You should ask her out. She’s cute.”
 “No, I’m taken.”
“But you’re not taken, James. This isn’t real,” you retorted and it hurt you so much to say. Sometimes you wished you could be a selfish bitch but you couldn’t do that to James. He deserves someone who would cherish and love him, not give him a faux relationship. “You should ask her out.”
 “Do you want me to?” James asked, his voice was laced with desperation that you couldn't understand. Why would he care about your opinion?
Bucky hoped that you would say no, he needed a sign to know that you wanted him too. His tone was despondent because he was hoping that this could be more. He really wanted it to be. But when you said yes, everything came shattering down for him. You didn’t want him and God, he was so frustrated that he could cry. What sick game was the universe playing with him? He felt like a rat stuck in a cage with cheese right outside, in front of him. Even though he was so close to you, you were still out of his reach.
“You know what?,” he pondered, “Now that I think about it maybe I should ask her out?”
“Like right now?” you questioned, taken aback by his sudden and unexpected change in demeanor.
“Yeah!” he cheered enthusiastically, “No time like the present, right? You can get home by yourself?”
He didn’t wait for your answer, already walking back towards the restaurant, and you murmured a ‘yeah’ which he didn’t even notice because he was already jogging towards the burger place.
When you reached home alone, tears welled up in your eyes, and you ran up to the bathroom to avoid stumbling upon your family. Maybe you shouldn't have pushed him, maybe if you didn’t then he wouldn’t have pursued the waitress. He wouldn’t have gone if you didn’t shove him towards the cute waitress. Why were you such a good person?
Your thoughts were brought to a halt with frantic knocks on the door. Instantly, you wiped your eyes and opened up the door to be met with your sister’s kids. Izzy and Alex didn’t give you any time before getting a hold of your hand and rushing you outside to help them set up the trampoline.
Your family was already out there, and you hoped your face didn’t say, ’I've been crying in the bathroom.’ Your sister and her husband were seated on a blanket which was spread out on the grass, sipping wine, and your parents were admiring their grandchildren.
“Auntie Y/N!” Alex exclaimed and Izzy added, “Help us fix the trampoline please.”
You agreed because those two were the only people in the world that considered you their friend without asking for anything in return. Moreover, it was a good distraction, if you stayed in a room thinking about James, then you would probably lose your sanity. So, once you started setting up the trampoline for the kids, it became somewhat fun, and you almost forgot all about James, and how he must be talking to that girl and how that girl must be flirting with him. You hoped he didn’t call her doll, you knew you were being unreasonable and immature, but you couldn’t help yourself.
Izzy and Alex made their way towards their parents and whispered something about you being so in love with James that his absence made you angry.
You ignored them and the way your sister smiled, you were so focused on fitting the trampoline spring that you did not realize someone was standing behind you until two strong hands came around you, taking the spring from your hand and attaching it to the corner. 
You knew it was James, no one would touch your hand so gently, any other man would have snatched the spring from your hold and mansplained it’s process to you. But James wasn’t doing that, he wanted to be near you, to have your attention fully that is why he took the spring from you. He didn’t undermine you. No, he desired you to notice him, the guy who has been trying all weekend to get you to like him. He wanted you to see Bucky, not your boss, James.
You could feel his head looming over your shoulder, you dared to crane your neck in his direction to find him already looking at you with a smile on his face. You were so dazed in his eyes that you didn’t notice that he was wearing a white shirt instead of the one he wore in the morning. You did not notice that he didn’t leave you to get the waitress’s number, instead he got a customized shirt that read 'I heart Y/N'. You only noticed him.
Furthermore, you didn’t care about anything else at the moment, just him. Bucky eyed your lips longer than he should have and leaned a bit towards you; a question. You answered his question by closing the distance between you and crashing your lips with his. His hands engulfed around your waist, flushing your back against his chest and he kissed you feverishly. 
The kids were right.
You were in love, and that love was reciprocated by the man who was holding you like you were his archer and kissing you like you were the source of his last breath. But both of you were too unaware to realize that the other felt the same way.
Everyone could see that, your mother looked over at your father and your sister looked at her husband, smiling, reminiscing the way they fell in love just like you and Bucky. The kids looked at you both with hope, aspiring to have a love like that in their future, the kind they saw in movies and in the couples around them.
What you didn't realize was that there was one other set of eyes watching you from a car in the distance. Rumlow finally found his rival's vulnerability, and he was going to do everything in his power to exploit and eventually kill Bucky’s weakness, his love, you. 
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mrsgiovanna · 3 years
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The Escape Route (Yan! Don Giorno x Fem!Reader)
A request from a lovely nonnie mouse asking how the Don would handle his darling attempting to escape from his home. A bit of a drawn out scenario... I really hope you enjoy the read.
TW: Manipulative relationship dynamics, possessive behaviour, yandere behaviour
Word Count: 2.7k
Your brisk walk was slowly turning into a run as you worked your way through the busy streets of Naples. With your breathing ragged and eyes darting around to make sure nobody was on your tail, you tried to think about how best to put your escape plan back on track.
You knew that Giorno’s influence extended further than most, but you hadn’t expected him to have the power to derail every single option you had thought of to escape from his overpowering grip. You had been running around for hours now, from station to station, none would book you a ticket to anywhere, every cab ride was hastily halted after a dubious phone call… resulting in you being unwillingly ejected from the vehicle each time. So there you were, running into the more dangerous parts of Naples, frantically looking for some kind of shelter to house you while you thought of what you would do next.
Thankfully, you found a tiny inn, sparse amenities, small and far removed enough you thought, to not be on Giorno’s radar. The kindly old lady didn’t ask many questions, and you paid with the cash you had been slowly hiding away for such an event.
You couldn’t pinpoint when your relationship with Giorno had descended to this but you knew that if you stayed any longer his charming brand of captivity would best your common sense and you would be trapped forever. With Giorno, you had access to anything, no request was too demanding… in exchange though he required you to be within his confines at all times, listen to and obey his honeyed instructions with minimal fuss, and to not run off in the occasions when he did take you out of the mansion. I’m just keeping you safe he said… little did you know that the most dangerous one of all was the Don himself with his hypnotic gaze.
To give him the benefit of the doubt, it could have been much worse, he never harmed you physically, never pushed the intimacy boundaries further than you allowed… in your moments of weakness, it was you who had sought out his embrace. The absurdity of it all- vacillating between love and hate for this man, and so to protect the fraying thread that held your sanity together, you decided to make a run for it. It was not an impulsive idea, you had spent the better part of the year planning your grand escape, trying to imagine every way in which your plan could go awry and possible solutions to the problems. Ironically, this was a habit that you had picked up from Giorno himself, and should your plan actually work, it would be quiet poetic- escaping using the traits of your captor against him. You had gathered small amounts of cash here and there, not enough to rouse anyone’s suspicion, and made sure that any and all evidence of you memorizing the layout of the surrounding areas was completely erased. Perhaps the most difficult task of them all, was to lure Giorno into false sense of security regarding your disposition towards your situation. In the weeks leading up to your escape, you had flawlessly played the part of the dutiful ‘wife’, listening attentively, spoiling him with gentle touches and loving gazes, making sure to build up your affections gradually, as if they had been blooming naturally so as not to trigger any suspicion.
Finally, you saw your opportunity to make your move that morning. Giorno had to leave early to meet with a few associates from Japan, so you rose with him, and watched as he got ready, helping him with his hair and doing up his tie. Looking up to meet his crystalline eyes, you noticed he considered you with an expression you haven’t seen on him before.
“What is it tesoro? Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked in a gentle tone.
“You’re… just so beautiful… would you like to come with me today? I’m sure they would love to meet you… I call them associates but in actual fact one of them is a relative of mine. You’ll only be bored for a little while; after that we can do whatever you would like to,” he asked with a gentle smile. You thought about how you were going to answer, ultimately you knew you didn’t want to go, favoring your grand escape instead, but denying him that quickly would definitely set off alarm bells in his mind.
“Ah! Perhaps next time my love, I’m not going to be good company today, I woke up with a bit of a headache… I’ll probably go back to bed and sleep it off after you leave,”
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to make you feel any better bella, I hate the fact that you’re hurting,” Giorno cupped your face in his hands and gently stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, “get some rest bella mio, I’ll be back to check on you as soon as I can,” kissing you on the forehead he left without another word. Waiting for him to be completely out of the villa, you watched as his car exited the driveway before quietly packing what you could, mentally going over your checklist more times than you cared to count. Since your change in attitude, the staff at the villa were more accepting of your whims, partly to do with the fact that Giorno had instructed them to do so - within reason, but also, because you had won over their trust and if you had to be honest with yourself, there was nothing you could fault them for. The dynamic Giorno had with them was not ruled by fear, but rather by admiration… all of them being drawn in by his charisma. Managing to maneuver your way through the mansion and out an exit that saw you climbing over a hidden portion of the eastern wall surrounding the villa, you had finally been outside the confines of the villa on your own for the first time in well over a year.
In the car on the way to meet with his guests Giorno was preoccupied. He had noticed the gradual change in your behavior and as much as he would have loved to give you the benefit of the doubt, a nagging inclination that you might be lying always clouded his thoughts. He loved you- entirely- even though there were days in which you rejected his affections, he was patient with you… eventually you’d understand, the dangers that lurked in every corner made your captivity, as you so unceremoniously called it, a necessity. He had grown so accustomed to making decisions with little to no advice, he had adopted that stance in his personal life as well. He rationalized that once you had accepted the fact that his actions were all borne from his desire to protect you, your lives would be peaceful, until then, he would be patient, enduring your tantrums and snide remarks with the grace of an aristocrat… which only upset you further. To Giorno, you were to be looked after, protected- treasured, and so no matter how much you had tested his patience in the beginning, not once were you ever hurt or taken advantage of. Violence and shackles were much too unrefined for a gem like you, so to correct your behavior, the young don resorted to other, less threatening means of discipline.
“Don Giovanna? We have arrived,” shaken out of his musings by his consigliere, his attention was drawn to the fact that they had arrived at their destination ready to discuss the matters at hand.
“Thank you Lorenzo, would you check if the staff has everything ready while I greet our guests?”
“Of course, excuse me,” with that, Lorenzo had left, hastily attending to a call as he walked.
“Ah, welcome to Italy, I take it you and your associates have settled in well?” said Giorno with a polite bow, being mindful of the cultural conventions of his esteemed guests. Drinks were ordered and everyone present had settled down in the private lounge, except for Lorenzo who had been animatedly conversing on the phone for enough time to make his absence felt. Frustrated by what he was tasked to do, he abruptly ended his conversation and sought out Giorno to give him the news, finally, the staff at villa Giovanna had realized you were gone.
“Don…”
“The expression on your face can only mean one thing… when did they notice?”
“A few minutes ago, she couldn’t have gotten too gar given the timeframe… what would you like me to do?”
“You stay here and keep our guests company, I’ll handle this…” not even bothering to alert the driver, Giorno collected the keys from the valet and zoomed off. Making a short drive even shorter, he arrived home in foul mood, although he did assign some of the blame to himself, recognizing his fatal error when he ignored his gut feeling, he was disappointed at how easily you had managed to slip from his grasp and wondered if his staff had been plotting with you all along. He would have to address that later on though, his primary concern now was to locate you and bring you back home.
“Mista, I have a special request to make, please come to the villa, bring Fugo with you,” said Giorno in a quick call, there were few who he trusted more than his underbosses, and this task was something that required only the most competent people. After a short explanation of the situation at hand, both men had already started making calls to the relevant people in an attempt to thwart your plans.
You would think the most frightening thing about Giorno would be his god-like requiem ability. But over and above the raw power he possessed was his reach, the world seemed so small, as if it had rested comfortably in his elegant hands- and you had been getting reminders of this inescapable fate over and over again. By the time you had given up on the idea of escaping through any traditional means of transportation, you must have tried fifty different avenues, each attempt failing more spectacularly than the last. Having had enough, you resigned yourself to the fact that you would not be leaving Naples immediately, and found refuge in the outskirts of the city. You climbed the rickety staircase behind the lady as she prattled on about her day.
“Shall I get you something to eat dolcezza? You look like you could use something warm and comforting in your system. In fact, let me do just that, you get settled in so long,” said the innkeeper before you had a chance to interject. Deciding to take a shower to wash off the day, you took comfort in the fact that this place was so remote, you were almost certain you were safe for the meantime. The tiny bathroom was a far cry from the palatial one you had grown accustomed to while being in Giorno’s villa, but it served the same purpose, only this time, you had your freedom. The place was peaceful though aside from the sound of what must have been a car backfiring and the small creaks from the natural expansion and contraction of the dwelling, it was quiet enough for you to calm down and organize your thoughts. Now that you were comparatively more at ease than before, you felt the strain of the day in your body, aching muscles, sore feet and cuts and scrapes that began to smart affixed a slight grimace to your face as you rummaged through your belongings to find some sort of pain relief.
A sharp knock on the door disrupted your search. You stayed silent for a moment, contemplating if you should ignore it or answer.
“Dolcezza, I’ve brought you a small snack, you’re going to enjoy it,” you just wanted to crawl into bed and forget the day you had, but you also didn’t want to snub her kindness, you reached out to unlock and open the door.
“Buongiorno tesoro… enjoying your little excursion? Marina here was kind enough to show me to your room so I could surprise you… seems like it worked, look at this charming expression,” turning to the smiling woman, Giorno nodded for her to leave. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, you wanted to cry, to run, to jump right out through the hazy window but your feet were rooted to the ground.
“Well (y/n) … you’ve been running around Naples for the entire day, have you found what you’re looking for?” his usual honeyed tone was laced with derision as he critically eyed your surroundings. “is this what you were so desperate to escape to? Look at this place… look at the condition you’re in… how is any of this better than everything I’ve given you?”
“I have my freedom here…” was all you could muster as your mind raced thinking of how he had still managed to find you despite all the precautions you had taken. “Giorno, how…”
“How did I find you? I always have my ways…” he said, sauntering over to the window, opening it just enough to make eye contact with whoever was outside, dismissing them with a nonchalant wave of his gloved hand. Pulling out his cellphone, he showed you the opened application, explaining that he had been using it to track your location, following the signal from the diamond earrings he gifted you on your birthday, carelessly left on when you had made your hasty escape. In all fairness, you hadn’t considered that the dainty gems were anything more than that. Feeling your legs starting to give out under you at the revelation that you were the cause of your own undoing, you sat on the bed hanging your head in defeat.
“Freedom, you say? Tell me how has that worked for you?”
“That’s not fair! You’ve basically controlled every single encounter I’ve had, and even when I thought I had escaped you by coming here, you still somehow managed to manipulate the situation…” you shouted, tears of frustration running feely down your face.
“Stop being dramatic, the world is full of horrible people, everyone is looking out for themselves, I wish you would realize that… tell me tesoro, how many people turned you away? Threw you out of their cars, made up excuses to deny your requests? Not one of those people looked into those pleading eyes and thought you were worth helping. Why? Because people are selfish…”
“You… you threatened them all, you…”
“You give me too much credit, it’s not like I was going to kill them, I hate violence, despite your disappointingly low opinion of me, even you have to admit that I’ve never done anything to physically harm you… all I want is to protect you, you don’t understand how things work out there,”
“It’s not like you’ve ever given me the opportunity to find out how things are… I”
“Some people are just meant to be loved and protected tesoro, isn’t that enough? Why would you want to risk being hurt to get a taste of something that’s actually not even worth it… you’re not cut out for this life… I’ve been here so I know this isn’t what you deserve. You’re coming back home with me,”
“But, I- “ you attempted to interject but his intense glare halted you.
“(y/n), I’m very patient under most circumstances, but please don’t test me now, I won’t say it twice…” said Giorno with a slight bite to his voice, it was clear he was growing tired of this conversation, and you were losing your will to fight back. With a quivering lip and misty eyes, you moved to gather your belongings but was stopped by the young don, arguing that he can replace whatever is there, wanting no other reminders of this transgression to follow you both back. Resigning yourself to this fate, realizing there was nowhere beyond his reach, you grasped his outstretched arm and followed him to the car to return to your life of opulent captivity. Months and months of planning all resulting in nothing, it became glaringly obvious to you that escaping was futile…
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omiscurls · 3 years
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haikyuu!! characters as bed sharing AU’s
taken of pinterest!
characters in question: kiyoomi sakusa, miya atsumu, kenma kozume, suna rintaro, tobio kageyama, kuroo tetsuro, akaashi keiji
kiyoomi sakusa - the “you have too much nightmares, let me try this method on you”
When you look at Sakusa, you wouldn’t guess any of his weaknesses... well except for one maybe
He always speaks so confidently, if he doesn’t feel secure, he just doesn’t speak
So even if you’ve been their manager for... several years, you still know as much about this man’s weaker sides as if you met him yesterday, or even less. 
The surprise on your face when you binge watched a series at night, and you suddenly felt the scream definitely coming from outside your headphones was indescribable 
Was the room next to yours... Sakusa’s?
you thought nothing of it, but night after night, you heard a lot more, you heard crying, ventilating, calling out random names, and finally you decided that not only is this interrupting your sleep, it’s not healthy for the wing spiker either
come on, the next day is game day, he has to be on his best abilities 
nobody wants to deal with grumpy kiyoomi, nobody has the guts
so you remember a method your friend has told you about that their s/o uses on them 
it took a lot of courage, but there you are, about to knock on his door... 
Sakusa flinched hearing knocks on his door. That definitely wasn’t just a comeback from a dream. Someone’s knocking on his door. Was he being too loud? Did he wake someone up? He prays that it’s just someone wanting something, even if it’s around 2AM, and who on earth would want someone at 2AM. 
Normally he would’ve been pissed off, but now he wished for this scenario to come true. 
He put on a hoodie before opening the door, since it was cold outside the sheets, besides, who wants to see him in his underwear, right? Especially if it’s marvel themed-
The look on his face when he sees his crush on the other side of the door is priceless. He can practically feel his face going all red. 
“Can I help you?” he clears his throat and says lazily, pretending to be annoyed by the fact you allegedly woke him up, even though the tears still flow down his cheeks. 
“No, but I can help you” you say, just as embarrassed as he is, and it doesn’t help when he raises his eyebrows like that, so you quickly add “That is, if you like, please feel comfortable to tell me to piss off if I’m being too much, but I have a friend with a problem simmilar to yours and I just...”
“Okay, I’m listening” he interrupts, causing you to look up at him. 
When you explain the idea to him, he’s more than pessimistic, he’s laughing in your face, mumbling something about how he thanks you for your concern, but... 
You took the opportunity that you’re both sitting on his bed, and just lay on your back. 
“Come on, just try” 
“No!” he answers almost immediately, but, as he’s also a man of logic... 
He really has to be on his best tomorrow, and you’re his only hope at the moment. He reluctantly lays down next to you, and your hand guides his face near your neck. 
“Fine, but only so you stop with this idea already. It’s not gonna work.”
You’re both extremely out of your comfort zones, but you’re slowly adjusting. You feel him nuzzle closer, and your hair just instinctly lands in his hair, curling one little curl on your finger. 
His showergel smells amazing, by the way. It puts you to sleep instantly, but you know you can’t be the one to pass out first. After a while of silence, you ask him if his trial run has expired already, but there’s no response. His breath evens out, and you’re too afraid to stir away far enough to check if his eyes are closed. 
“Kiyoomi? Are you asleep?” you ask, but again, there’s no response. 
Oh well. 
The next morning he’s so embarrassed that the idiotic idea worked, he can’t even look you in the eyes at breakfast. 
atsumu miya as “you’ve been so dejected lately i feel too bad to leave you alone at night” 
He didn’t ask for this at all, but yet you ended up being his roommate. 
A roommate who was recently going through an extemely tough time. 
Seriously, even he feels bad seeing you all in tears all the time, mindless look and not paying attention to anything
Even though you weren’t each other’s favorite people in the world before, you ended up getting closer over the fact that he was the only one to see you at the worst moments
You hated that, but what can you do, there’s no safer place to cry in than your dorm
And even though he kinda made fun of it at first, the longer it kept going, the more concerned he’d get
It got to a point where he literally wouldn’t leave you alone 
While still pretending not to like you, of course
Have you eaten? Have you drank something? Have you even left your bed today? How long did you sleep last night? Not at all? You idiot, start taking care of yourself. 
You dumbass, you dummy, you moron, you absolute fricking mess
Some of your friends consider him your boyfriend, judging from the messages you get from him
“Dummy, there’s a granola bar in your bag, better eat it” “Hey idiot, I had to run to practice early today. Are you feeling less shitty than yesterday?” 
He noticed that, as it is logical, your mood proggressively gets worse as you get tired 
And that you actually learned how to cry without sobbing so you don’t wake him up, how thoughtful of you
Well your mistake, now you have an 80kg volleyball player over you. 
“Atsu, what’re you doing?” you ask in a tired voice, covering your face with a pillow. 
“You’re crying.” he states bluntly, staring at you like a four-year-old. 
“Observant, are we?”
“Hey. Dumbass. You didn’t cry for so long already, what happened?” he whispers, sitting by your side, and you can’t mumble words, feeling so ashamed you want to disappear. You fall on your back and pretend not to notice the question. 
He sighs audiably. 
“Alright then, just know you brought this on yourself” he states, and before you can ask why, he’s already laying beside you. 
“W-what’re you doing?” you scream-whisper, right into his blonde hair, and he shivers at the feeling. 
“I’m comforting you, isn’t it obvious, you moron?” he hisses. “Although, I can see my mistake now” he states, and you think he’s gonna go back to his own bed, but no, he grabs you by the waist and rolls over, so now you lay on top of him, flustered as ever, thankful for the light being off, at least he doesn’t see your tomato-like face. 
“But- Atsumu, please go to your own bed” you plea, but he shakes his head, eyes already closed. 
“Nu-uh” he answers “Yours is more comfy, anyway” he jokes, making you chuckle through the tears. 
He puts his hand on the back of your head and puts it on his chest. 
“Goodnight, dipshit” he whispers, and you manage to fall alseep listening to the steady beat of his heart. 
No tears, he’d feel them anyway. 
kenma kozume as “the heater broke and i’m cold as hell, can you come here?”
this should not have happened
the guy looks miserable
but, you see, he’s doesn’t have the biggest amount of muscles in his body, his not as ripped as his highschool friends
body fat? also no, he’s a skinny, fairly tall boy who gets cold really easily
for real, he’s wearing a hoodie at all times, and in winter, he looks like a shell of himself
so you’re over at Kuroo’s house on a New Year’s party
the party ended like an hour ago, everyone is asleep
(Lev’s gonna be so dead when Yaku wakes up and finds the tall guy’s head on his stomach) 
you’re almost sound asleep in Kuroo’s guest bedroom, so gracefully given to you by the host
the only other person in the room is Kenma, who originally slept in Kuroo’s room together with his best friend, but got annoyed by the weird questions him and Bokuto kept asking
so he asked you if he can sleep on the couch in the room 
why wouldn’t you say yes? 
earlier that night Kuroo burnt pizza in the oven, so you all opened almost every window in the house to get the smell to leave
and kinda forgot to close the ones in the bedrooms
but no worries, you have a radiator
...right? 
why is the radiator set on the highest temperature and still stone cold? 
well, doesn’t matter, you can just wrap yourself in the heavy sheets
Kenma, on the other hand, only has a small blanket
And since it’s a party, he’s wearing a shirt, not a hoodie 
The boy’s freezing 
“Hey, are you asleep?” you hear a very quiet whisper coming from the couch. 
“Thought you’re here cause you couldn’t stand the chit-chat, Kenma?” you ask with a grin on your face. 
“Yeah, right. Sorry.” he mumbles and you hear him shift in his spot, visibly annoyed by the circummstances. There’s a moment of silence, in which he can feel his face almost burn down from embarrassment. 
Oh, my god, you sound like you’re annoyed with him here. Areyou? Come on, tell him you aren’t. He should just let you sleep. 
But does he really want to spend the rest of his night feeling his feet hurt from cold? Fuck, Kuroo, you and your stupid pizza. 
He gets up, tightly wrapped in his blanket, and checks the radiator. 
“It’s definitely broke” he sighs, touching the cold surface, and turns back to the couch, falling on it face down, letting out a groan. 
You giggle at his action, and he opens his eyes immediately, hearing the sound of your voice. 
“Kenma... I offered you the bed once already, it’s warmer” you start, but he raises his hand and shakes it in a disagreeing gesture. 
“No no, please, don’t worry” he mumbles against the couch, trying to ignore the, ironically, burning sensation in his legs. Is this a bedroom or is this Antarctica?
“Oh, come on” you say, opening the sheets. “We don’t want you to freeze, do we now?” 
Oh my god, what did you do. There’s so much thoughts racing through his mind right now. Should he do it? It sounds so nice... But should he really?
Fuck it, he thinks, you’re offering, he can’t turn down an offer from you. 
He lazily walks over to the bad and lays down next to you, at a reasonable distance, only to hear you laugh again. He spares you an annoyed glance, and you shake your head slightly, rolling over next to him, covering him with the sheets you have wrapped around yourself so tightly, and using his chest as a pillow. 
Hold on, that’s not what he signed up for. Why are you... How...? 
He hesitantly and gently puts his arm around you, relaxing his body, the scent of your shampoo making him slightly dizzy. 
Please don’t notice how fast his heart is racing. This is fine. It doesn’t mean anything, he can promise. 
rintaro suna as “hey dude, i hear cuddling helps you sleep, wanna try?”
the most chill person out there 
literally you would never have guessed how nervous he was before asking you 
it’s  just another week, another game and another hotel you are all staying in 
and fate is definitely on his side today, since his bedroom is literally next door to yours
he got to your door and left without doing anything about three times before he eventually decided to be a man and knock
has a master plan in his mind
he’s gonna show you a website with an article about how cuddling (allegedly) makes you sleep better 
and he’s just gonna be so causal about it 
he’s just gonna knock, put on an emotionless smirk and ask you, just like he always does
but here’s the think, he’s not so chill on the outside
“how should I call them? their name? a pet name? bro? no, too much” 
but, he does end up knocking 
“Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” you turn your head to the door to see a figure of Suna in only his underwear and an oversize t-shirt with the logo of some metal band. 
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” you ask, voice hoarse as you were already drifting off. 
“I read this super cool thing, wanna see?” he seems not to mind your comment, as he walks over to your bed and practically throws himself beside you, not minding you laying there, shoving his phone in your hands. 
“... help you fall asleep in just three minutes...” you’re mumbling under your breath as you read the headline. “Rin, this sounds so fake” you laugh, falling back on your pillows, as he sighs. 
“I wanna try, and it’s either you or Kita, and he gives me serial killer vibes” he mutters, earning yet another serie of laughter from you. 
But seeing the serious hint in his eyes, you lift your hands in surrendering gesture. 
“Go on with it, Mr Romantic” you state, watching in amusement as he groans at the comment and burries his face in your pillow. 
You’re sure this is him considering this mission a failed one and giving up, but then he looks up 
“Well, are you coming?” he asks completely serious, and you have nothing left to do than hug him and settle your face in the crook of his neck, not minding as his breathing lifts your hair from time to time and tingles your skin. 
Can someone feel your blush through their skin? You surely hope not. 
tobio kageyama as the almighty “the hotel room has only one king size bed and we need to share”
He never would’ve thought his teammates would betray him like this
What the hell do they mean there’s only two people rooms available and they’re all in pairs already
Honestly, primary school all over again
ugh
His perfectly happy to be sleeping alone, when he finds out you’re his roommate
this is fine tobio, don’t freak out
well he’s composed about it
a little bit of a “tch” and “well I guess there’s nothing we can do about it”
internally he’s a little girl now, but you never would’ve guessed judging by the annoyed grimace on his face
because how does it matter if you’re sleeping in the same room, it’s not like he was planning to run around naked, right?
it all changes once you press the card to open the room, and when he so gentleman-like lets you enter first, you find out there’s only one, big, king sized bed for couples exclusively
the only thing missing are rose petals and candles prepared for newlyweds
you try so so hard not to burst out laughing
when he enters, he becomes as white as the walls around
he can’t process this, what the fu-
bet he’s spending hours at the reception desk explaining it’s a huge mistake
unfortunately, these were the only rooms left, sorry not sorry, you’re sleeping together
and that brings you to the situation you’re in currently
He’s almost over the edge of making a wall of pillows between you two. You can’t help but feel a tiny bit offended by it, but you know he’s probably just super hyper embarrassed.
“Yama, who don’t you trust, me, or yourself?” you ask with a proud grin painting your lips as you sit on your side, sheets tucked around your waist, back rested on the wall behind you.
He gives you an annoyed glance, before answering:
“It’s not that”
Once he says that, he proceeds to somehow nestle himself in, but he looks like one of those dolls that come with a bedroom furnishing, almost lifeless, resting on his back with hands straight down his body, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“Relax, will you?” you giggle “You have a game tomorrow, grumpy face”
He rolls his eyes.
You shake your head and turn off the light, mumbling a quiet goodnight, as you turn to your side and place a hand under your head, back facing Kageyama.
Well, this is gonna be a long night, or so you think, up until he falls asleep.
You can physically feel him move around, and you think that’s what’s keeping you awake.
It takes a while for you to realize the star valley ball player is getting unconsciously closer, up until you can feel his breath on your neck.
Ironically enough, it’s you who’s all stiff and nervous now, when suddenly you feel his arm go around your waist.
“Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me” you mutter, but he shifts dangerously when you speak, so you have to give up side commentary.
You decided to tease him just a bit. He’s the one who’s gonna be flustered when he wakes up, you’re on a winning side by being awake.
You smile to yourself before shifting your body closer to his. He sighs contently, almost making you laugh.
Oh how you want him to wake up and see already.
tetsuro kuroo as “we fell asleep on the couch together and now my hand is in your hair and you’re breathing directly on my neck”
you’re over studying, or just helping him with something
the point is, you were working all day
at some point he suggests getting pizza
hell yeah, pizza
you order a little bit too much of it, but since you both are suckers for pizza, nobody can back up first
and as you know, people tend to get sleepy after they eat too much
he has a wide couch, so you can both lay beside each other without having to lay ON each other
and as you tend to get a little bit sleepy, you both shift to lay down instead of sitting, still focused on the work, though 
you don’t know why, you don’t know how but it just happens that you fall asleep
you obviously don’t see what happens after that, but Kuroo notices you asleep when he asks you multiple questions and you repeatedly don’t answer, he got it like around question number 4
“Lazy much, huh, sleeping beauty?” he mutters to himself, but smiles unconsciously as he glances at your stoic face 
and as if that subconsciously impacted his brain, soon enough he can’t find it in himself to keep his eyes open as well. 
Kuroo wakes up to an annoying pain in his neck, causing him to hiss and automatically  want to place his hand on the place that ached. Whoops, did he fall asleep on the couch again? Oh well, didn’t he have work to do? 
He lifts his hand as he wanted to, but suddenly he feels something shift beneath it, and when he looks down to see you, with your head rested on his chest, breathing slowly, a peaceful smile on your face. 
Your legs are tangled with his in some unexplicable manner, and as the man of logic he so obviously is, he can’t even begin to understand how that happened. 
Especially why his hand feels so in place, holding you by the waist, closer to himself, and the other one lost somewhere in your hair. 
You shift your head slightly up, and sigh contently, now breathing directly on the exposed part of his neck. He somehow manages to not shiver at the tingling sensation, getting more and more flustered by the second. 
His heart rate inscreases drastically, making him realize he’s stressed like he’d never been before, as he tries to make up his mind about whether to wake you up, gently push you off and let you rest, or maybe stay in place. 
He feels attracted to the last one, but knows it’d only be unfair to you. 
But you could wake up if he moved you, and you had a long day, after all... 
Maybe he’s gonna let you stay there. Not for long, only five... more... minutes...
keiji akashi as “you’re staying over at my place, you take the bed, i’ll sleep on the floor. no, really, i’m comfortable on the floor. GEEZ FINE we’ll both take the bed, ya happy now?
You wanna know what got you in this situation huh
well, you were over for dinner, but it started raining really heavily 
like, really really heavily
and akaashi being the sweetheart that he is, can’t let you go home like that
it’s a long way to the train station, you’re gonna get sick, and what if there’s a traffic accident? he can’t have that
(he just wants to spend more time with you but shh about that) 
doesn’t matter how hard you try to convince him you’re gonna be fine. you’re staying and that’s final 
it’s cute, he’s cute when he’s worried 
well that brings you to where you are currently, already after your shower, dressed in one of akaashi’s t-shirts, oh this feels so couple-ish 
you wait for him to finish with his night time routine in his room, admiring all the posters and childhood pictures he has
he has the first ever selfie bokuto took with him framed 
when he comes back, that’s when the problems start
“Alright, well, let’s get some sleep, you can take my bed, and I’ll take the floor
And that’s what brings us to the guilt rising in your stomach as you settle in the guy’s sheets, inhaling the heavy scent of his shampoo from the pillow under your head. It’s his house, his bed, and yet he’s sleeping on the floor like some random guest. You’re the random guest here, you can’t help but feel like you’re crashing at his place against his will, and you’re making him uncomfortable.
“ ‘Kaashi?” you whisper, making his eyes open wide to see the dark ceiling of his room. There’s silence for a moment, and then he shifts to turn on the light once more.
“Yeah?” he sighs, bringing one hand up to his face to rub his eyes, unable to open them properly because of the sudden flush of light.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep on the bed?” you ask shyly, making him chuckle as he shakes his head.
“Yes, yes I’m sure. Goodnight” he states gently, turning on the light once again. This is gonna be a long night, he thinks.
You cannot catch your sleep. Damn it, damn your altruism and all that shit.
“Akaashi no, I can’t-“ you’re cut of by the sound of him laughing.
“Oh my god. Fine. If I move to the bed, will you sleep already?” he whines quietly, and seeing you nod in the dark, he gets up and picks up his pillow.
You get off the bed, wanting to swap places with him, but are held back by his hand.
“No, if you sleep on the floor, i won’t be able to close my eyes even for a second” he forbids gently, moving you back to where you were previously laying.
Oh boy, you both think, this is awkward, but the warmth of his body pressed next to yours makes it hard to be mad at him for stopping you from leaving.
This is gonna be a long night indeed.
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shadyteacup · 3 years
Note
Hi! Im the one req 7 for chuuya sorry i didint specified, i just realized it. Can i get angst prompt 7 for chuuya?
Hiya! This pained me to write, so I made it fluffy at the end... sorry if u were looking for pure angst! I can't go to sleep peacefully peacefully after writing angst, I need to clutch my soft toys and cry myself to sleep..
Warnings: Angst to fluff, maybe a swear word at the end.. dw, it's just "bish", but like the actual word.
Word count: 2006 😳yes, I got carried away
Nakahara Chuuya + “Please wake up”
Forewarning
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“Don’t move, Chu.”
You grumbled against his chest. It was yet another lazy morning for the two of you. Lazy mornings consisted of waking up late, cuddling on the bed till lunch time, getting dressed and having dinner at some exotic place, going for a long drive, then coming back home. It was a perfect day for a traditional lazy day, except for the fact it was a weekday.
Chuuya sighed. He had to get to work, and so did you. You both couldn’t afford to miss any workdays, considering that you both worked for the same organization, one that didn’t hesitate to punish for untimely work. Chuuya was an executive, and so were you. You both had multiple solo missions planned out for today and one mission wherein you both had to team up. It was going to be quite a busy day, and Chuuya wanted nothing more than to just get it all over with. He was looking forward to some lazy cuddles in the evening, after both of your jobs were done.
“We have to get dressed, dove.”
He tried reasoning with you. You were a workaholic, just like him. It surprised him to see this lazy side of you. But then again, you must be tired, he thought.
“I know. But let’s bunk today!”
You looked up at him with wide eyes, hoping to convince him.
Chuckling, he pet your head affectionately.
“The mafia isn’t some school that you could just bunk. Besides, don’t you love working?”
You frowned at that. You were feeling weird today. It’s like something was forewarning you. But about what?
“I just have a bad feeling about today. I don’t know why, but I feel like something bad is going to happen.”
He sighed. He was never one to believe I such things. That was why you weren’t telling him until now.
“We work in the mafia. How worse can it get?”
“I suppose you’re right.”
You smiled, getting up to get ready.
....
“The target is in the warehouse.”
Chuuya said to you. You both were currently seated in Chuuya’ s car, parked on a hill. Your stakeout point had a clear view of an abandoned warehouse. Apparently, it was the location where a rival gang was coordinating with some members of the mafia and stealing their goods. You both had already executed the moles and had sent in one of your trusted members as a pretend mole. He would send you both a signal when he felt that the security was the weakest at the entrance. You both would then attack. He was supposed to cause a commotion in there, resulting in majority of the guards to rush inside and leave the entrance wide open for you two. Your men had already sealed all exits to ensure no one got out. Now you were both waiting for the signal.
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”
Chuuya pouted at your jab.
“I was just being thorough!”
“By stating the obvious?”
“You’re so mean.”
“Says the angry redhead.”
“What has my hair got to do with anything?!”
“Your hair has got to do with everything! I-”
A sharp sound was heard. Both you and Chuuya were blinded for a second as white filled your vision. You felt your torso pinch a little. It almost felt like someone was sticking a few needles into your tummy. You heard screams. They sounded frantic. A few moments later, your vision cleared, and you saw yourself floating in the air, a frantic Chuuya saying something to you. It all sounded mangled and mixed up. If you could have laughed at the moment, you would have laughed at how funny he sounded.
The screams had turned to cries, now. You were so confused. Who was crying? And why was Chuuya pressing down on your stomach?
Looking down, you saw the blood. There was blood everywhere. It had completely soaked your shirt. Chuuya was using his ability and his hands to keep it in. He seemed hurried. His eyes were watery, and streams of tears were flowing down his cheeks.
Finally understanding the situation, you realised that you were injured. Looking down at your torso, you saw the two bullet wounds. And now, you finally felt them. The pain was overwhelming. It rushed in like water at the breaking of a dam. It completely filled you up. You now realised that those cries of pain were actually your own. You wished to have never woken from your daze. You wanted to remain oblivious. You wanted the pain to go back to mere pinpricks. It was too much. Succumbing to the enormous pain, you let your eyes shut close. You realised that your body was going to sleep. Maybe for the last time.
....
Chuuya sat in a chair next to your sleeping form. You were lying unconscious on the clean white sheets of the hospital bed. Your entire torso was covered in bandages. You had taken two bullets, one in the side and one right next to your belly button. The doctors were able to save you in time, and it was a matter of time till you gained consciousness.
Chuuya held his face in his hands. The memories of just moments prior to visiting the hospital kept running through his head. He kept seeing flashes of your blood oozing out of your body. He kept remembering the way your eyes had glazed over while he tried to apply pressure on your wounds. There was so much blood. His mere two hands were proving to be inefficient. So, he had activated his ability to push the blood back in. He had no clue if that had helped. He remembered activating his ability the moment you had let out a blood curdling scream. He had levitated you both out of the car and high up in the night sky.
He should have listened to you. Your forewarnings were right. Something terrible had ended up happening. The mole he had sent inside was found murdered by the backup team, and the head of the organization had fled. His men had taken up sniping positions all across the hills. Two of them had shot you at once. He remembered going on a mad spree and pelting boulders at all the men in his sight using his ability right before he flew to the hospital with you in his arms.
“Has she gained consciousness?”, the doctor asked as she peeked in. Chuuya had asked all medical personnel to leave him alone with his sweetheart, a little too passionately, after they were done treating you, and hence the poor doctor was a tad bit scared to check up on your vitals.
Chuuya whipped his head up.
“No.”
The doctor scrunched her brows in worry. Rushing in, she did some tests.
“I’m sorry, sir, but if the patient doesn’t wake up in another hour, we will have to declare a coma condition.”
“What?!”
The doctor jumped at his outburst, but answered him, nonetheless.
“The body is behaving as if it is already in coma. This can also be because it is repairing itself. It doesn’t necessarily have to be coma.”
She sighed.
“But, if the patient retains this state of unconsciousness, we will have to rule out a natural healing process. I suggest you try to communicate with the patient. Sit close, hold hands, maintain physical contact. Try speaking. That way, maybe the body will react to a familiar scent, touch or voice, and gain consciousness.”
Chuuya gulped, worried, and nodded.
“I understand.”
He shakily made his way to your face, observing your serene features. He hesitantly put your hair behind your ear, breathing unsteadily. He felt immense guilt and anger. He was guilty of not paying your uneasiness an ear, and he was angry because he couldn’t save you. If only he had been more vigilant, more aware of his surroundings, he would have been able to smell a rat.
“I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you. I should have been able to protect you.”
He gasped inaudibly, trying to keep his sobs in. He couldn’t stop the tears. They flowed freely down his cheeks, a symbol of his immense fear of losing you. He couldn’t bear the idea of loosing you. It might be selfish of him, but he wanted you to live, because God-forbid, if you didn’t, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. He knew that if such a devastating situation ever occurred, he would lose all sanity and go mad. He would lose his mental balance and completely fall off the edge. He couldn’t bear to be separated from you for two days, forget the rest of his lifetime.
He caressed your cheek, smiling bitterly at your sleeping form. Nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, he let himself truly cry. He let out all his emotions into your hair. He found comfort in your warmth. He has always felt the safest in your embrace. That’s where he could truly be himself.
He didn’t realise how long it had been when he began talking to you. Telling you how much he loved you and how he couldn’t live without you. He pondered on how he would take his life if you left him.
“I’d have to go to that stupid mackerel for guidance. But then again, he has been unsuccessful in killing himself for 22 years. He’s probably the worst suicidal guy out there.”
He was lying next to you now, cradling your frail form in his arms.
The doctor waltzed in, a serious and sorrowful expression straining her pretty features.
“Nakahara-san, I’m so sorry.”
Chuuya gritted his teeth, holding onto you tighter.
“No! There’s still a chance that-”
“Its hopeless. The patient has already been in this state for 16 hours.”
“16 hours?”
The doctor smiled sympathetically.
“I gave you a lot more time. I thought maybe the constant contact would help. But sadly, it’s out of our hands now.”
Chuuya sat up, holding your face in his large palms.
“Wake up! Wake up, damnit!”
He shook you gently, desperate to get any kind of reaction out of you.
“Nakahara-san! Please get away from the patient! You mustn’t cause any harm! Security?!”
The doctor rushed forward to pull Chuuya off of you, but he held onto you. He grabbed your arms, looping his own around them and pulling you towards him.
“Wake up!”
He rested his face on your chest, sobs escaping him.
“Please... please wake up...”
The doctor reached forward to clasp his shoulder, trying to pry him off of you.
A large gasp followed by couple of coughs were heard.
You took in a large breath, trying to swallow. Your throat was dry and scratchy.
“Y/N!”
Looking up, you saw Chuuya holding you in his arms, a relieved and surprised expression on his elegant features.
“Hey.”
Your voice sounded raspy, but it was music to his ears.
He engulfed you in a hug, one that knocked the air out of your lungs.
“She’s still a patient!”
The doctor reprimanded as the security guards pulled Chuuya off of you.
You smiled at the tiny ginger.
“I’m alive, Chu. Stop being dramatic.”
Chuuya laughed at your carefree attitude. He didn’t resist the men as they pulled him out of the room. He was relieved to see you awake. He didn’t care about anything else. Just as he was about to leave, you spoke up.
“Call Gin and tell her that I’m not dead!”
“You don’t need to call me, idiot. I was waiting right outside.”
You smiled as she walked in, giving you a hug.
“Why does she get to go in but not me?!”
Chuuya whined.
“Hey Gin, guess what?”
Gin smiled at you, sitting at the edge of your bed at the nurses did their check-ups.
“What?”
“I’m alive, bitch!”
Your snickers could be heard till the hallway, where the rest of your friends were seated. Shaking his head, Tachihara snickered.
“Good ol’ Y/N.”
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nevertheless-moving · 3 years
Text
Unnamed Extremely Bad Plan to Defeat Darth Sideous AU - SW AU NO 9
Hopefully writing down this star wars au will help me exorcise the cringe demon that helped midwife it. Time travel au where obi-wan and Anakin come up with an extremely SPECIFIC and UNCOMFORTABLE plan to defeat Palpatine because it unfortunately, would actually work, as it capitalizes on one of Palpatine’s easiest to reach political vulnerabilities. This is not a unique plan- there are other au’s like this, but this one is mine. When searching for ways to explain exactly why this anti-sith strategy inspires such cringe and delight in myself I realized, with sinking dread, I have seen this in an Always Sunny episode...which yeah. I might be over reacting but hey, cringe is a personal phenomenon, everyone’s different.
Anyway! Uh here’s a bunch of plot that will eventually culminate in the plan. 
*Too much plot, aaaah*. **All plot actually.** ***Its 1 am and this is still a draft*** ****It’s 2am**** *****This post will be just be background I guess.*****
*******STAR WARS AU NO 9 LAZILY OUTLINED CHAPTER ONE*********
Force ghosts Darth Vader and Ben Kenobi have had time to yell at one another without need for breath, and have more-or-less come to terms with the trainwreck that was their shared life. I wouldn’t call them well adjusted, but they’re more stable then they were the last decade or so of their living existence. 
In haunting Luke, they end up encountering an artifact in an ancient Willis temple that offers spirits the chance to fix the mistakes they made in life. It doesn’t truly unwrite what’s been done, but it lets you create an alternate timeline. So this galaxy will still be what it is, but some alternate galaxy somewhere could at least have it better. Its almost never been used, because becoming one with the force usually lets you accept the past, but viewed objectively, Vader and Ben’s lives involved an extreme amount of yikes. They say goodbye to Luke and are flung backwards and sideways.
Anakin is holding his mother as she dies. Obi-Wan is landing on Genosis. 
Vader just barely manages to avoid slaughtering the tuskens. To be honest, he doesn’t really get why he shouldn’t- his moral compass is still pretty f-ed up. He’s fairly certain the force is just torturing him, but still he controls himself (for Padme for Luke for Leia).
I’m gonna say well-adjusted!Vader sees murder in general as more of a vice than a sin- on par with having a beer. And really well adjusted Vader is willing to admit to himself that he’s an alcoholic, he seriously cannot regulate, its a problem. He really can’t let himself go, because he’ll just end up spiraling. And so he restrains himself and only seriously maims a few of the adult raiders.
Vader figures he can always come back later and slowly torture them to death if this whole ‘save the future’ thing doesn’t pan out.
Obi-wan leaves his shuttle and hides under a rock for 30 minutes. He calculates thats just enough time for him to pretend he went on an extremely effective and sneaky fact finding mission- just in case anyone checks R4′s records. Gets back in shuttle and gets the fuck out of there, much to Dooku’s chagrin, who lost sight of him after the shuttle landed and is now going to have to switch to one of his alternate start-the-war plans. 
On the flight back he reports everything to the council- fallen Dooku and the separatist leaders, the trade federation and the massive droid army, Jango Fett the clone template of the republic army (?) working for the separatists. He briefly comms Anakin, but anyone hacking into their conversations would hear only a nonsensical, rambling conversation. Later, a hacker might turn over the idea that they were speaking in elaborate code, but why would Jedi invent such a thing during peacetime?
The war still starts; at this point in the timeline it was inevitable; the artifact was only designed to give them the chance to correct their own failings, not the galaxy’s. Palpatine still gets his emergency powers. 
The same day the armies are discovered, separatist war ships take off to engulf Ryloth. The Jedi are instructed by the senate to lead the clone army and provide immediate relief-this will not be a repeat of the republic’s inaction on Naboo. It’s both better and worse than the first Battle of Genosis. So many more civilians are caught in the crossfire. The first titanic battle is not contained to evacuated droid factories, but rages across an entire populated world. The battle lasts for weeks.
The main reason this fight is less deadly is solely due to the fact that General Kenobi manages to maneuver his way into high command of the entire army.
 “I believe assumptions were made since I was the first point of contact with Kamino, Masters,” the Knight explained apologetically to the arriving high council members. “I realize its not quite appropriate, but for right now I am the Jedi most familiar with our forces and the enemies. I would, of course, prefer to cede the role to someone else.” 
The assembled Jedi can feel the truth in that statement.
“For better or for worse, advance troops were directed by the senate to land planetside and have met heavy resistance. I managed to redirect them to a more defensible position, where they can provide surface based cover fire for incoming reinforcements. The battle has already begun.” He received a grim nod of approval from Master Windu.
“I feel the need to say now, that if there’s one thing I learned from my time as a general on Melida/Dann, or in working against Death Watch on Mandalore, its that having a clear chain of command is vital for a military to succeed. I don’t need to remind some of you that leadership breakdowns were what ultimately ended both the Stark Hyperspace War and the Yinchorri Crisis,” Masters Koon and Tiin exchanged looks before deliberately sending forth a small force wave of approval, understanding where this briefing was leading. 
“I believe that unnecessarily restructuring command before the battle is won here could do far more harm than good.” The reminder of Obi-wan’s unusually militaristic apprenticeship put some of the assembled knights at ease even as it inspired a twinge of guilt in the older masters. 
“In command you are, General Kenobi,” Master Yoda finally acknowledged. “A Jedi Master you will be, once done this battle is. Have us do, what would you?” 
The battle lasts for weeks, and when its over, the commanding Jedi and Troopers involved will openly acknowledge that had anyone else been in command, it would’ve lasted months, if not years. Facing down logistical, strategic, and tactical problems on a scale unheard of for a thousand years, High General Kenobi does not falter.
Enemy reinforcements seem unending. For all their preparation, every single trooper is new to war, and secretly concerned that should they fall, they will be replaced with cadets who hadn’t even finished their training.
Obi-Wan is putting out fires before they can start. Much to their shock, clone commanders are informed that they will, for the time being, remain in charge of their troops. With a handful of exceptions, Jedi ‘Generals’ were in fact, to be treated as a cross between highly skilled commandoes and advisors with abnormally sourced field intelligence. 
“All of you have spent your lives training to lead your brothers into combat. The Jedi Masters and knights who are being assigned to your divisions have not received such training.” 
General Kenobi addressed the division commanders, some in person, some over holocomm. All focused in rapt attention as their General reordered the shape of their lives using language they could understand.
“The command structure I am issuing is designed to maximize our ability to utilize our respective strategic capabilities, while minimizing potential loss of your life. It will be our great privilege to serve alongside such an army, and while I fully expect a complementary exchange of knowledge in time, for now, focus on survival.”
The Jedi received similar briefings, tailored for their broader array of combat and military experience. Some, including Jedi Master Pong Krell and Grandmaster Yoda, were pulled aside and tasked with the essential mission of infiltrating and destroying the Droid factories on Genosis. If they were to have a chance of winning this war, they they would need to cut off the seemingly unceasing flow of droid reinforcements. 
An elite squadron of Arctroopers and Jedi field operatives were covertly dispatched, Grandmaster Yoda himself in command. Considering Count Dooku had yet to appear anywhere near Ryloth...the grandmaster had the best chance of bringing in the fallen separatist leader alive for questioning.
Shortly after they left, Anakin arrived, having finally turned over Padme’s protection to her regular guard. With the military creation vote past, the assassination risk was considered minimal. The real delay in his arrival came from her repeated attempts to join the Grand Army of the Republic on Ryloth with the intent of coordinating humanitarian assistance. Eventually he managed to convince her that she could do more good in the senate. 
After all, he pointed out, someone would need to followup the military creation act with a bill to grant clones equal citizen rights. Otherwise, the legal grey area that cloning fell under and their non-republic origin would inadvertently make the clones slaves. 
His borrowed Nabooan cruiser entered the warzone with the grace and efficiency as a small neutron bomb.
Those close enough to see its flaming descent watched in horror, realizing that the high generals own padawan would likely be a war casualty before he ever engaged in combat.
The legion nearest to soon-to-be-ground-zero, under the command of Captain Rex of the 501st, were distracted by heated combat, as the temporary barricade they had put up to defend the civilian population gave way to droidika artillery. 
While reloading, several dozen troopers happened to look up to see a speck detach itself from the hull as at spiraled in the lower atmosphere. Hope spread that the Jedi had managed to activate some sort of eject hatch. A skilled shocktrooper could probably control and and survive such a fall with luck, which mean a Jedi almost certainly could. 
A few tactical scouts charged with watching the skies confirmed that the speck was indeed a humanoid. No chute was visible, but even 8 days into the war, rumors had already spread about how Master Windu had passed off his chute mid-air to a troopers who had been damaged by suppressing fire, cushioning his free fall solely with the tank he crushed upon landing. 
Only one trooper, stationed in the town clock tower specifically to track the Padawan’s arrival and issued with a high-resolution farscope, saw the whole thing. Fortunately for his credibility later, in its current setting, the scope automatically logged photos every 5 seconds, ensuring that for years to come Obi-Wan would have a flipbook as evidence that he was not the crazy one.
CT-3609 or Blink (as he was named after winning the division wide staring contest on Kamino two year prior) forwarded the trajectory of the vehicle to command, who confirmed his analysis that it would impact two clicks out from their makeshift fort and not present a risk to civilian or trooper lives. 
As it traversed the stratosphere a figure (desperate repair droid, Blink assumed) emerged from the cockpit to perch on the nose of the ship. As it entered the troposphere, it became painfully obvious that the figure jutting out from the hull of the ship was in fact not a humanoid droid, but an unarmored human. The Jedi stood on the prow of the ship, seemingly impervious to and oblivious of:
air resistance 
centrifugal force
normal space gravity 
Blink’s slack-jawed bewilderment
the flames engulfing the ship below him
At this range, the smirk on the man’s face was visible (man? boy? kriff is he even through puberty?). Several miles above the surface he leaped, diving towards the ground like a bird of prey. 
To the west, the ship made impact with the ground, sending a shockwave that shook the tower just enough for Blink to lose visual in the final moments of descent. Cursing, as while he was confident the Jedi would inexplicably survive, he really wanted to see how. The trooper scanned the droid-engulfed farmland to the north for a crash site, to no avail. Lingering smoke from the burnt countryside negatively impacted visibility low to the ground.
Rather than trying to articulate his report into words, he sent the 50-odd frames the farscope had saved, as well as the coordinates for the jedi’s projected radius of touchdown. A quick radio over to long range electro-ballistics ensured that his landing wouldn’t be marred by friendly fire.
He awaited follow-up questions on the absurd entry method, which, when they came, mostly consisted of variations on “...Is this for real?” and eventually “Can you set the scope to video for a little while?” and finally “Do you think that’s how he got the name Skywalker?”
There was a temporarily lull in fire from the west, likely a ripple effect from the ship’s explosion. From his vantage point Blink could see his batchmates using the opportunity to try and plug the holes in their barricade with broken droid pieces. Regardless of the itch to join them, he knew he couldn’t leave his post until the Jedi actually arrived in camp. Finally, a distant explosion and thick pillar of smoke gave the Jedi’s position away.
He tried to make out details, but the scope had a difficult time focusing through the haze. Manually trying to fine tune the scope’s settings, Blink caught a glimpse of what looked like half a hover tank sailing through the air to impact with a trade federation troop carrier in a fiery explosion. Several more explosions, flying droid artillery, and plumes of smoke were caught on record before visual contact with the source was established. He was mostly visible as a blue blur, lightsaber mowing a meandering path towards their location. 
It wasn’t until Skywalker braced himself in place to punch a droidaka into pieces that Blink caught actual sight of the man. Only his eyes were visible, nose and mouth covered by layers of cloth. He blurred, then reappeared on top a massive missile launcher attached to an absurdly heavily armored vehicle. A minute or so of rapid blue flashes passed, the longest he had seen concentrated in one area. Then Skywalker was gone, movement clearly visible as he for once he moved in a straight line, plowing a rapid path away from the launcher. 
Less than 30 seconds later, Blink had to wince away from the scope, as a burning white explosion temporarily overwhelmed the direct light filter. The trooper panicked for a moment, thinking he had gone both deaf and blind, but the abrupt, sucking silence ended after a moment with a deafening sonic boom. The shockwave rattled the farscope, nearly knocking it over, but Blink managed to steady it and himself in time. 
A cheer emerged from pleasantly surprised vod below. The entire droid legion that had been guarding the missile launcher and apparent ordinance bay was flattened. 
It took a moment for the realization to set in that the background noise of missile and and anti-missile collisions directly overhead had slowed pace. With the northern flank gone, artillery were able to redouble efforts to the east, and a second white hot shockwave ensued, signaling that the tide of battle had shifted. It was almost too easy for the republics electro-ballistics to tactically devastate the surrounding forces. 
Eventually some sort of win/loss programming must have set in and all forces outside of a certain radius began retreating southward, conceding the scorched land to the republic army. It was cadets work to clean up the final suicidal droid charge. 
A commotion ensued as Skywalker leapt the barricade with a mid-air flip. The vod greeted him with cheers, as they correctly assumed his appearance had something to do with the skirmish’s decisive victory.
Blink sent the video of the battle to command and quickly packed up his scope and assorted equipment. Hurrying down the battered tower, Blink thought to himself that this Anakin Skywalker was the best sort of Jedi a trooper could ask for.
uh sorry i got really sidetracked there moving on
Kenobi and Skywalker quickly become the face of the war once again
they grit their teeth a bit, but when they finally have a moment to really plan they eventually agree that to take down Sideous they have to cut off his political power in addition to everything else, and taking advantage of their public personas was the most accessible way to do so (*evil laughter*)
While Dooku wasn’t captured, Yoda heard the truth in his old student’s cryptic warnings about a Sith in the Senate, and the council begins carefully editing their release of tactical plans to the Chancellor’s office in the hopes of ferreting out the spy in their midst.
Pong Krell looses two arms in his duel with Dooku. Obi-Wan successfully hides his smug pleasure at the news. Anakin enjoys makeing comparisons between him and Grievous. 
Kenobi doesn’t allow the origin of the clones to go unexamined, although he agrees that if the public were informed that they don’t actually know who ordered them it would probably cause panic.
The ‘inhibitor chips’ are ‘discovered’ early on and Anakin leads the effort to ensure that they are phased out and removed immediately. This consists of reminding every Jedi who even hesitates about how how he as a child slave had some experience with control chips and unless you want to take a leaf out of the hutts books lets start doing brain surgery chop chop mmmkay?
(This isn’t to say that Vader doesn’t still a twinge of shame at acknowledging his slave roots. But it is eclipsed by the burning guilt that he knowingly acted as slave master to his troops for decades after Sideous wiped their minds. He tried to rationalize it to himself, after all he didn’t immediately understand what Order 66 had done to the troopers. But while the morality of murder was more of an intellectual concern than a personal one, treating people as things...)
The Kamonions are a little harder to budge, referencing contracts that they refuse to allow the Jedi to see
Finally Vader snuck into the Chief Medical Scientist’s home while she was sleeping and straight-up threatened to murder her and burn down her lab. At the risk of losing her life’s work, Nala Se complied.
Vader left with the final threat that in the event that Darth Tyranus caught wind and activated Order 66 prematurely, he would kill 100 Kamonians for every Jedi felled by troopers. Shaak Ti was pleased by the cloners sudden change of heart. Tyrannus, and by extension, Sideous, are in the dark. 
Obi-Wan frequently publicly confronts Palpatine about the troops citizen status, urging him make use of his emergency powers to grant them citizenship and full pay, with the option to leave the army should they so wish. 
Anakin manages to play off his avoidance of the Chancellor as disappointment in his perceived lack of dedication to anti-slavery efforts
Finally Palpatine gives in- regardless of what happens next, the troops will be looked after.
With 2/3rds of the troopers dechipped, Vaderkin is eager to kill Sideous again, but after several intense screaming matches and sparring sessions, the time travelers come to the agreement that even if they succeed in their duel, with things as they were, the perception of the Jedi military coop would cause mass civil unrest. The scattered sith apprentices, while individually weak, were more than capable of magnifying that fear and anger until the galaxy breaks. Darth Sideous wanted to ensure that if he couldn’t have the galaxy, no one would. 
(Vader knows this. Sideous enjoyed monologuing, and much of his plotting couldn’t be safely bragged about until after he had decisively won, leaving Vader as the unwilling receptacle for years of pent-up rants and self-satisfied gloats about the inevitability of his victory)
Continued Here
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