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alcinadimitrescuwu · 3 years

Text

This Woman's Work Part I (Alcina x Fem!Reader Fanfic)

Warnings: NSFW at the beginning, but the rest is just fluff. Also some morning sickness and nosebleeding.

Part II Part III

You awaken to sunlight filtering through the curtains in your bedroom. You try to stretch, but find it a tad difficult. Especially considering your 9’6” vampire wife has cocooned herself around you. You gently move your body so you are facing Alcina. There have been so many moments like this in your marriage where you can hardly believe you have the pleasure of waking up every morning next to such a beautiful creature. You take her in, from the creases under her eyes, her long lashes framing her pale cheeks, her adorable laugh lines, and her parted lips free of her usual deep carmine pigment. You love moments like this when she is in such a deep slumber as it is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen her.

You press your lips gently to her temple and see those gorgeous golden eyes open. She smiles and runs a thumb along your cheek. You lean into her touch kissing the palm of her hand. “Good morning, draga mea,” she says, giving you a chaste kiss.

“Good morning, my love,” you say, stretching your arms above your head. “Do we have anything special planned today?” You turn to her and can’t help but notice the way Alcina is looking at your body arch as its stretches.

Alcina gives you a wolfish grin. “We haven’t anything planned until after luncheon.” She suddenly takes you in her powerful arms and flips you so she is above you. “So we have the whole morning to ourselves.”

You suddenly find that your mouth has run dry. The neck of her nightgown is gaping, so you can see the full outline of each breast.

She takes you gently by the chin and presses her lips to yours. You pull her down so she is lying down on top of you and weave your hands through her raven hair. She shifts her body weight so she doesn’t crush you and deepens the kiss, coaxing your mouth open with her tongue. You take her wrists and place them above you on either side of the pillow.

Alcina breaks from the kiss and chuckles. “Iubirea mea, how will I take your clothes off now?”

“You can use your teeth, can’t you?” you reply breathlessly.

Alcina breaks out into a wicked smile. “Great idea.”

She lowers herself near your chest and takes the ribbon fastening your nightgown in her teeth. The glint of her fangs flashes in the early morning light. You gasp as she rips the ribbon out and the top of your nightgown falls away, revealing your breasts. She cups one of your breasts and moves in to kiss you again. However, you notice her smile falls and a look of concern crosses her face.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” you ask, trying and failing to keep the whine out of your voice. “Why did you stop?”

She puts a hand to your nose and it comes away bloody. “Your nose is bleeding?”

“What?”

“Here, sit up.” Aclina pulls you up to a sitting position on the bed and adjusts your nightgown so your chest is covered again. She fetches one of her handkerchiefs from the nightstand and presses it to your nose. “Just hold it there and try not to move too much. There’s a good girl.”

Alcina stays there while you keep the handkerchief pressed to your nose to stem the blood flow. “Sorry, I know this isn’t very attractive,” you apologize.

“Darling, that is the furthest thing on my mind right now.” She brushes a stray curl from your forehead. “I just want to ensure that you’re alright.”

Once the blood has stopped flowing, the entire handkerchief is soiled. “Sorry about your handkerchief.”

“Iubirea mea, that handkerchief has seen so much blood over the years. This isn’t the worst it’s been, trust me.” She looks at you with such tender concern your heart melts. “How are you feeling now?’

You feel your stomach lurch. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

Luckily you make it to the bathroom in time.

You lean against the toilet scene, spent from heaving. You glance over at Alcina who had been holding your hair while you were sick. A look of worry has creased her brow. “Maybe we should take you to Mother Miranda and have her take a look at you.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m sure I must have caught something while I was in the village.”

Alcina gives you a stubborn look. “No malady I know gives you nosebleeds in addition to nausea.”

You’re about to protest, when suddenly it dawns on you. “I’m late.”

“Late for what, darling?”

“My cycle,” you lean your head against the bathroom wall, your nausea having passed for the moment. “I was supposed to have it last week.”

Alcina’s breath hitches. “Does that mean…?”

“Only one way to find out!” you say grabbing a pregnancy test from the medicine cabinet. You turn to your wife, who is still standing there. “Er…This bit’s rather private.”

Alcina tilts her head in confusion. “Draga mea, I’ve seen every inch of you. I don’t think there’s anything I’ve missed.”

You feel your cheeks redden. “Aclina, do you know the way a pregnancy test works?”

Your wife shakes her head, her curls bouncing to and fro. “I’m ashamed to admit I don’t know.”

You motion for her to lower her dark head so you can whisper it in her ear. Her brow knots in confusion. “Isn’t that a bit archaic given the technological advances of your species?”

“They haven’t found anything better,” you say brightly and give her a playful slap on the bum. “Now, shoo.”

You wash your hands and brush your teeth for good measure while waiting for the results. When you are done, you glance at the stick and behold two parallel lines. No doubt about it now. You are pregnant.

Alcina raps her hands on the door. “Iubirea mea? May I come in now?”

You wipe a tear from your eye and smile. “Yes, darling.”

She comes in, bending her head under the frame. She is wringing her hands, a nervous habit.

“We’re pregnant!”

Alcina doesn’t move for the longest time. She puts her hand on her heart and then rushes over to you and takes your face in her hands. She gives you a kiss on the forehead and leans it against yours. Her aureate eyes are brimming over with tears of joy.

The moment is broken when your daughters suddenly materialize from the bug shrouds. They begin talking all at once. “Maman? Is it true that you’re pregnant?” “Maman, did you cheat on Mother? I’ll kill you if you did!” “Oh, thank God that means I’m not the youngest anymore!”

You wave a placating hand over their babble. “Girls, girls, yes I’m pregnant. No, I did not cheat on your mother.”

Alcina turns her adoring gaze from you to her daughters. “We actually meant to tell you girls this, but we have been consulting with Mother Miranda for us to have a child. The embryo was implanted a couple months ago and we weren’t sure if it would be a success, but-” She gives you a peck on the cheek. “It worked!”

The girls erupt into cheers. Caught up in the jubilation, Alcina picks you up and swings you around. The smile falls from her face as she sees your face turn green. “Oh, dear.”

Lucky for both of you, you’re already in the bathroom.

#re8 village #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu fanfic #re8 fanfiction #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x female reader #alcina x reader #alcina x maiden

619 notes · View notes

rafescoke · 3 years

Note

hi ! i'm obsessed with your work ! <333 can i request a rafe cameron x reader

the reader is always there for rafe when he's sick or in trouble but rafe doesn't really show any reaction or gratitude from the reader's affection - but when reader goes sick (or nosebleed) he immediately begins to worry/make sure reader is okay. basically fluff !

August ; Cupcake! Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Read Cupcake if you haven't before you start this fic!

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: In which Rafe cares more for the girl he likes rather than himself.

Warnings: Extreme fluff! Mentions of alcohols and drugs, Rafe Cameron being a complete sweetheart

A/N: After a week full of nothing but angst I've decided to give y'all what y'all have been screaming for; fluff. Thank you for all the love over my stories, I love you more than anything else in the world <3

p.s, I'm so sorry @blank-velvet if this isn't what you had in mind :(

"Hello, beautiful."

(Y/N) rolls her eyes, giving him a side smile as she locks her front door. "You're late today."

Rafe pouts, pulling her into a hug as he breathes into her scent. She doesn't smell like cupcakes anymore, thank god, because he can't take another few hours of flashbacks of him whisking the batter.

Turns out, the children's home becomes a fortnight habit for the both of them. They would bring so many cupcakes for the kids and spend the new 2 hours chatting and playing games.

Rafe hates to admit this, having to show the soft side of his, but he likes it. Every single bit of it; children telling him he's the best person in the world and how they like his frosting over (Y/N)'s because his were more 'unique'.

"Are you thinking of another girl?" (Y/N) teases, poking him by his side. Rafe looks down to her height with a shocked expression and shakes his head.

"Never."

"Yuck," she replies, but she's smiling. She keeps her hands in his, loving the way his fingers are wrapped around hers. His metal rings knock against hers, and she can feel the slight tightening every time the light turns red.

She wishes she can assure him that she'll never leave his side, no matter what happens. She knows how hard his life is for him, dealing with his family and his addiction, and she swears to be in his life until he's okay.

"I don't want you to leave once I'm okay."

"I don't mean it that way, Rafe. I'm just saying that if you decide to find anyone else after this whole bullshit ends, I'll be fine."

Rafe shook his head, "I don't want anyone else, (Y/N)."

"Now you're thinking of a guy," Rafe rolls his eyes playfully, turning into a corner before stopping directly before a fancy restaurant (Y/N) can't roll her tongue to call it. He steps out, helping her to her feet, and proceeds to give his car keys to the butler.

"You don't have to pay 30 dollars for valet parking," (Y/N) rolls her eyes. "I'm perfectly fine with walking a long distance, you know."

"Not in that heels," Rafe answers, pointing to her pink mules. "You'll get your dress dirty too."

Rafe escorts her to their table by the beach with her arms in his, and the couple never looked so beautiful. Rafe's hair is left messy today, since (Y/N) likes it that way, and anything that (Y/N) likes, Rafe will try to obey.

"We can eat at Fraiser's and I'll be happy, Rafe. This is too much."

Fraiser's is Obx's famous burger shop located in The Cut, and sometimes even the kooks would come down to the other side of the island to enjoy the food.

(Y/N) stares at the beach, hearing its calming waves and turns to Rafe. He's still admiring the view, his lips pulled into a charming smile, and (Y/N) has the urge to kiss him.

"I want to," he says. "I'm glad we met."

The candle burns brightly by the side of their table as he gazes into her eyes, feeling himself getting lost in them. Her (E/C) eyes are mesmerizing, and it had struck him.

"Stop. You're getting all mushy mushy."

The dinner is perfect. To (Y/N)'s surprise, Rafe had requested her favorite song to be played by the band earlier. When the starting melody to August by Taylor Swift starts playing, she's basically gaping at Rafe.

"Shut up! You did not!" she hits him on his arms as he laughs.

"I thought you'd like it," he shrugs, stuffing his mouth with the garlic bread. "Do you like it?"

"Are you crazy? I love it, Rafe!"

Before Rafe can process his mind to what she just said, she pulls him into a hug from the other side of the table, and the other diners glance at the sudden sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor and clanking of cutleries.

Rafe relaxes, "You're embarrassing us."

She pulls away, her face red, but Rafe holds her tightly.

"It's okay. I like it. Embarrass us even more, please."

(Y/N) feels like she's in heaven, soaring high above the clouds with Rafe by her side. Her life can't be more perfect; being in a close relationship with the boy he likes, doing so many things together she feels like they were married already.

Keyword: close relationship. He never proposes her to be his girlfriend, and she's too afraid to bring it up.

But whatever they're having now; she loves it. More than anything else in the world.

"Let's go to the beach."

"Okay," she giggles, gathering her clutch and her forgotten shoes somewhere under the table. She feels like leaving them, but the heels were one of the many presents from Rafe a few weeks ago, and she intends to keep them until the day she dies.

She stops, placing the clutch against his chest. "Have you paid?"

Rafe looks up to her, "Nah."

"Go pay."

"No."

"Rafe!" she widens her eyes, closing her mouth with her hands. "They'll catch us!"

"Not if we act like we've paid. Come on, they know me. They wouldn't suspect me of fleeing before paying."

She bites her lips nervously, but her heart is thumping wildly against her chest. Fleeing away from paying is never on her bucket list, but she always likes watching these kinds of scenes on the big screen.

"Okay. Fine."

"Okay, sweet. Come on."

He pulls her hands in his as he walks towards the exit. The waiter close to them bows, giving them his thank you, and when (Y/N) feels like they're safe, a loud voice from behind them shouts.

"Sir! Madam! Have you paid?"

(Y/N)'s grip around Rafe's hands tighten, but Rafe is a natural at lying. She wonders if he ever lied to her before.

"We have, a few minutes ago. This is a very bad moment for me and my wife, we are catching a flight back to Paris in an hour and you're wasting our time."

(Y/N) looks at him, gawking. His wife?

(Y/N) isn't sure if his lie would get them out of this situation, because his fake British accent does not sound anywhere near British and no English couple would spend their summer in a place like Obx.

The manager, (Y/N) assumes takes a step back, bowing down to them. When he looks up at them, he still has the curious glint in his eyes.

"Can I get your name?"

There's a long silence between them, and (Y/N)'s getting more and more nervous. "Coke." she blurts before she can stop herself.

"Coke?"

"That's her nickname, right, my love? It's not coke, my dear, it's Cookie," Rafe sighs and turns back to the manager. "I'm sorry. She had had a few drinks tonight."

"Sir," the same waiter that had muttered his thanks to them says, standing beside the stern manager. "They haven't paid."

"Run!" Rafe exclaims, running towards the exit with (Y/N) in his trail. There are shouts behind them, but they don't stop, running for dear life until the music from the band playing sounds a distance away.

Eventually, the gravel turns into sand, and they stop running. (Y/N) is the first one to laugh, throwing her head back and pulling him into a hug.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, Rafe, that's the best thing that has ever happened in my life!" she exclaims, placing her arms around his neck. The adrenaline from before is still flowing at a fast pace, and she never felt more alive.

Rafe smiles, catching his breath. He let her in his arms, smoothing her locks and lifting her slightly from the ground.

"Let's go in the water!" she says excitedly, pulling him towards the waves.

The cold saltwater pools around their ankles as they stand in the water, intertwining their fingers. (Y/N) looks up at him, watching as he stares at the darkness ahead.

She looks in the direction he's gawking at and sees the silhouette of a huge boat somewhere in the distance.

"What's wrong?" she asks, tugging at his hands.

"Someday, (Y/N), I'll bring you around the world."

She smiles. Always the charmer, that one.

"Rafe!" She suddenly shouts, bending down and letting the water soak her dress. "Something bit me!"

Rafe snaps back to reality, holding her in place and trying to find the mysterious creature in the water. Can a piranha get this far?

"I don't see-"

(Y/N) cuts him off by splashing the water at him, and he steps back with a shock.

"You'll regret doing that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not feeling anything."

"Get ready."

"For what?"

Rafe splashes her with a larger amount of water and uses the stalling time as she gasps and tries to get away from him by pulling her down into the water.

"This," he laughs, watching as she screams playfully. She's between his legs now as they sit peacefully, letting the water soak their expensive clothes.

"I'm sorry I'm ruining the dress you bought for me."

"It's okay. It's just Dior. Besides, I'll probably ruin it by-"

"Later," she cuts him off, placing her pointer on his lips to silence him. "Let's just watch the ocean."

And Rafe obliges.

A walk back to your home doesn't take long when you're in love. (Y/N) has Rafe's hands in hers, swaying them back and forth as they skip back to her apartment.

"I'm not going to be responsible for your car if it goes missing, Rafe."

He smiles, "It's okay. I have insurance."

She's on cloud nine; singing along to August and letting Rafe twirl her around under the night sky full of twinkling stars.

"I love this," she whispers, stopping midway. "Thank you, Rafe."

"For what?"

"Being the best."

He kisses her cheeks in response, "Always."

Just before they can continue their walk back to her apartment, a familiar blue mustang pulls up beside her, and Rafe pulls her to his other side in reflex.

He waits until the car window pulls down, revealing a half-drunk boy with his black hair messily slicked back.

(Y/N)'s breath hitches, and she pulls Rafe closer to her.

"What do you want?" Rafe sighs. "Can't you leave her alone?"

"Rafe," she whispers, pulling him in alarm. Out of all the time in the world, her ex-boyfriend decides to surprise them after a good night full of good memories.

Jack ignores Rafe and stares at (Y/N), smiling in a taunting way. "Hey, (Y/N), why are you all wet?"

"Rafe," she pulls him again.

"Come on, I'm just asking," he laughs. "I thought you liked getting wet."

"Fuck off," Rafe says, gritting his teeth. His chest heaves with every breath he takes, and he longs for the moment to connect his fist with his smug face.

"Aw, come on Rafe, you used to be so fun," Jack fakes pout, sighing. "Now you're all up in her ass. Does she feed you bone?"

Rafe steps forward, but (Y/N) quickly pulls him back.

"Does she beg you to go to the some children's shit too?"

Rafe stalks forward again before (Y/N) can help it, and launches Jack's car door open. He topples over from leaning over and not wearing the seatbelt, and Rafe uses the chance to throw him on the road.

"Wanna talk shit again, asshole?" Rafe yells, pushing him as he staggers backward. Jack clutches onto his chest, holding a hand up and moving backward.

(Y/N) cries, waiting for Rafe to come back. As Rafe turns away to go with her, Jack takes the free time to bring him down to the road again and throws a punch against his face.

"Jack! Let him go, please!"

Rafe groans, feeling his bones cracking, but he's too fueled by the snickering Jack had made toward (Y/N). He turns him over and continues his punches against the thrashing boy.

(Y/N) pulls Rafe's arms, not wanting him to get hurt, but the pull is so strong that when he finally lets go of Jack, she topples backward and falls straight on her bottom.

He gushes out beside her, "You're okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push you!"

Jack scatters into his car again, muttering a curse word under his breath and saying something along the lines of 'I'll get back at you, Cameron' before speeding off into the night.

(Y/N) groans, rubbing her legs and turns to Rafe. She gasps, holding his face in her hands. "Oh my god! Your nose, Rafe!"

Rafe grunts, pushing her hands away. "I'm fine. It's just a nosebleed. You scraped your thighs!"

"Just the side of them," she mumbles, glancing at the ripped part of her used-to-be beautiful midnight blue dress. "Let me see your nose."

"No."

"Please."

He sighs and lets her examine his broken nose. His eyes are red, and (Y/N)'s sure there's some kind of a broken blood vessel in there, and there are bruises starting to form under his eyes.

To compare with her pain, Rafe is a hundred times worse.

"Jesus Christ, we have to get you to the hospital."

"No!" Rafe exclaims, pulling her hands away from his place. "No, please. I hate hospitals, you know I do. Let's just get home."

(Y/N) sighs, knowing there's no way she can win this fight against Rafe and helps him to his feet. She staggers backward, feeling the sudden pain coursing through her from the gash on her side.

"Oh god, you're losing so much blood."

"No, I'm not. I'm perfectly fine. It's just a scratch," she bites her lips.

"Let me carry you." he stops her.

"No! You're an idiot. If anything, I'm the one who's supposed to carry you," she rolls her eyes and turns to look at him again. "Rafe, you're crying blood. Let's get to the hospital."

"I'm not, I just drink too much red wine."

"It doesn't work that way. Please, Rafe? I'll be there with you the whole time."

Rafe sighs, and after a long time of thinking and weighing his options, he nods.

"If they start telling me to open my clothes, I'll head out. I will only remove my clothes from you tonight."

He can still joke around at a time like this?

(Y/N) bites her lips, "You will do exactly what the doctor says."

"You're my doctor," he shrugs. "Be my doctor?"

(Y/N) decides, with Rafe limping beside her, walking towards the hospital will be the stupidest idea ever. She orders an Uber, and before the driver can ask why they're booking to go to the hospital at 11p.m. on a Friday, he speeds away when he sees the sight of Rafe.

"It's not too late to just go home," Rafe mumbles against her neck. Her hair tickles his nose, but he likes it like that.

He feels safe. Protected.

"We're not sleeping in my apartment tonight."

"Can I still make love to you in the hospital?"

"We'll think about it."

(Y/N) pays the driver, muttering her thanks, and attends to a groaning Rafe again. One of his eyes is shut, and the other is fighting its best to stay awake.

The EMTs grab a wheelchair for Rafe as soon as she pulls him in through the automatic door, and when (Y/N) finally lets go of him, he shouts over the loud orders of the workers.

"She needs to stay with me or I'll die!"

One of the technicians looks at (Y/N), and she sighs. "I'm sorry. We got into a fight, and I think he's just not thinking straight right now."

She nods and asks (Y/N) to wait for him in the waiting room.

Half an hour later, with a coffee from the 24 hours cafeteria near the emergency room in her hands, the doctor finally calls for her attention. She stands up, her dress sticking to her bloody wound, and she winces from the pain.

"Why didn't you tell us!" the doctor sighs, pulling her into the same room he brought Rafe in. Rafe isn't in there, and (Y/N) can't help but search around.

"He's okay. He's sleeping. He's suffering from subconjunctival hemorrhage. It's nothing serious, really, but we decided to keep him under our watch for one day."

(Y/N) nods, slightly relieved, and let the doctor removes her skirt so he can take a better look at her wound.

He clicks his tongue, "What's your name?"

"(Y/N)."

"Okay, (Y/N), we called for your boyfriend's parents and they'll be here in an hour. Do you have any parents I can contact?"

"I'm okay. I'm not suffering from any hemorrhage."

The doctor sighs, "I know. But you just confessed to being in a fight, so I have to get the parents involved. It's protocol."

Fuck.

(Y/N) mumbles out her brother's phone number, and she hopes against hope he's out with his friends and getting drunk so that she wouldn't have to face her family.

"Okay. Do you want to see your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend. But yes, I want to see Rafe."

(Y/N) holds out his hands as she sits beside his sleeping form. She smiles, grazing her fingers across his soft skin as he breathes peacefully.

"I'm awake now."

She pulls her hands away, gasping slightly at his tired voice.

"Come on, hold me again."

She rolls her eyes, but her fingers are around his again. "We look so corny."

"I know. Wanna know something cornier?"

"What?"

"Take that thing out of my pocket. No, not that, that's my dick, (Y/N), my pocket, yes, yes, take that box out."

(Y/N) holds out the small box in her hands, letting the white light from above illuminate the box. Her face is still red at the mention of accidentally touching his private part, but she's more intrigued by the box now.

"Open it," he says softly.

(Y/N) hesitates, and pops the box open. She gasps, having a small diamond glinting back at her.

"Do you like it?"

"You did not, Rafe, oh my god."

"Wear it. Wait, fuck, I messed it up. Wait, wait, let me just-" he sighs, trying to sit up, but (Y/N) stops him midway. "Would you like to be my girlfriend, (Y/N)?"

She looks up at him, her eyes teary now, because God, no one has ever done this to her.

"Would you?"

"Of course, asshole, even when you're asking me in the middle of your deathbed."

He smiles, "Okay. Now you can put the ring on."

She slides the ring on her ring finger, holding her hand up and admiring the way the ring compliments her hands.

She loves it. More than anything.

"Oh, and they called Ward and Rose. I'm sorry it's going to be your first time being my girlfriend and meeting them."

She laughs, leaning over him and placing a longing kiss on his lips. He kisses her back, feeling so much better now he can walk out of this hospital.

"You're like a princess. Nursing me back to health. None of these Harvard graduate doctors can compare to you."

"Urgh, shut up," she rolls her eyes. "Now you're pushing it."

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @pogueslandia @alwaysclassyeagle @rottenstyx @wxn-drlst

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smuts #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fluff #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey one shot #rafe cameron imagines #outerbanks #outerbanks x reader #outerbanks imagines #outerbanks one shot

392 notes · View notes

shorkbrian · 3 years

Note

Plzzz for the love of god I need more bully Bakugo

Prelude - here have some food. Part 1

Pairing - Bully Bakugou X Reader

Warnings - NSFW, degradation, spanking, noncon, dub con, all the cons. Dead dove.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/4VezGgvwNY3mtTbAEkmRMY?si=NxDxEMfERc-3flSDuq8kpQ

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“You’re such a fucking tease.”

Another slap to your ass, and you’re sure that if Bakugou’s hand wasn’t covering your mouth, you’d be wailing so loud that it could be heard across campus.

You’d been avoiding him after that weekend, after he’d tied you down and edged you for hours, laughing at you, occasionally pulling the vibrating dildo out of you just so he could push his cock into you, make you gush around his length. It had been torture, and scarring, and traumatizing, and you couldn’t even think about going to class for the first few days after he had sent you out of his dorm with a smack on the cheek and a “See you around, little bitch.”

There had been no way you were going to the classes you had with Bakugou. You were avoiding him like the plague, blowing off those classes, only creeping out of your dorm when you absolutely had to.

But you couldn’t avoid him forever, and he had told you as such when he grabbed you, shoving you sideways and into a family bathroom as you walked to one of your classes, head held low, feet hurrying.

“I can’t fucking believe you.” The blonde slapped your ass again, the flesh already raw and bruised. “I have the best weekend of my entire life, and then you fuck off and hide. “

Bakugou had you bent over at the sink, face half-squished against the dirty mirror, his hand clamped over your mouth, the other hand abusing your ass. You had been wearing sweatpants, but they were somewhere by the door, thrown there along with your underwear.

“Keep crying bitch, you know it just turns me on.” Bakugou chuckled darkly, noticing your tearstained face in the mirror. “Fuck, you look good like that. You’re so pretty, you made me do this.”

He was so volatile, mood unsteady and often changing for the worse. You couldn’t keep up, just openly sob into his hand.

“How does that make you feel, huh?” He asked, and if you weren’t about to be actively raped, you might’ve laughed. He sounded like a therapist, a fucked-in-the-head, psycho-the-rapist type thing.

“Knowing that I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t such a pretty little cocksucker. If you weren’t so weak and pathetic, you could fight back. You could even tell someone.” Bakugou laughed again, voice rasping in your ear “But you never do. I bet you secretly enjoy this shit, huh - want someone to fuck you up and make you their little bitch?”

You shake your head, or, at least try to, but Bakugou doesn’t let you. He’s keeping your legs spread with his feet inside of yours, his crotch now pressed against your burning ass, his hand wrapped around your hip to slap quickly at your pussy.

“Yeah, you’re a sick littler fucker, I knew from the second I saw you. Looked like a bitchy little slut, only good for keeping a cock warm. This is all your fault, stupid whore.”

Logically, you knew that what he was saying wasn’t true. This wasn’t your fault, bakugou was just a rapist, a horrible man, this wasn’t your fault at all. But some nasty little part of you reared back at that statement, whispering that maybe it was.

Maybe you had encouraged him by excusing his behavior at first, when the man had first started pushing you around. Maybe it was because you had worn something a bit too revealing, or had done something suggestive while he was looking? You didn’t know what you had done to catch his attention, but you wished on everything holy (and everything unholy too) that you hadn’t.

You jerked away from his touch as he began groping at your cunt, palming over your mound, slipping his fingers through your pussy lips roughly. Your movements only served to push you back into his crotch, and Bakugou rutted forward, trapping you between his fingers and his cock.

“Tch, you’re a piece of work. Crying like that, almost fuckin’ pissin’ yourself like a little girl. Can’t believe I actually fucking like you.”

All movement stopped.

Wait, did Bakugou just say he liked you?

Before you had time to even consider that thought (why would he do any of this if he liked you?), Bakugou was swearing, retracting the hand molesting your pussy so he could work on unbuckling his belt, unzipping his jeans, pulling his cock free.

He was having trouble trying to achieve all of that one-handed, so he leaned forward, hissing a threat into your ear before taking his other hand away from your mouth. The second he did that, you sucked in a real breath, nose too stuffy with snot and mucus to be able to take in much oxygen.

“B-bakugou, ple-please... “

“Ple-ple-please what?” He cooed sweetly, mocking you as he worked his cock free of his boxers.

“I don’t wanna do - I don’t want to, I don’t wanna do-“

“I don’t fuckin’ care, ain’t that clear? But keep beggin’, I like that shit.”

His cock was pushing through your folds now, hips roughly rocking you forward against the sink, which you grabbed onto the edges to steady yourself.

“No, no no no no, no, no-“ you sobbed, unable to say much else. You couldn’t do this, it was too much! His cocked was nudging against your clit on each thrust, and it was sending shocks of pleasure into your belly, making it draw tight. You felt disgusted with yourself.

Bakugou’s hands were on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as his hips worked his cock against you. He was grunting softly, breathing heavily already. And his cock was so hot pressing against your flesh, and you could feel his precum getting smeared everywhere down there, it was so dirty, you wanted to throw up.

The family bathroom was dirty too; it smelled weird, and the mirror had smudges and what looked like a lipstick stain on the bottom edge. There was some kind of crusty buildup around the sink drain, not to mention the discoloration around the toilet.

The state of the bathroom reflected how you felt inside - tainted, disgusting, used.

“Mmh, You gonna cry harder if I put it in?” Bakugou had his hand wrapped around his cock, tapping it upwards against your pussy, laughing as her flinched with each messy slap.

The man didn’t actually care about getting an answer, or maybe the way you burst into another round of tears was enough of an answer for him. He was leaning forward, draping his weight across your back, pushing his mouth right up against your ear.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna pound your little hole, and you’re gonna watch every second of it in that mirror, understand?”

You looked up at your reflection in the mirror, puffy eyes, puffy lips, top askew, bottom half bare. You tried to pretend that you couldn’t see Bakugou’s cock starting to slide through your folds again. You couldn’t stand this, couldn’t look, so you closed your eyes, bowing your head.

“Ah, ah, ah babe - if you don’t look-“ You heard the sound of the impact before you felt it. But when your bruised ass registered the hit, you screeched, almost crumbling atop the sink. It hurt so much, oh god, it hurt. “-that’s gonna happen. So I suggest you open your fucking eyes, and watch.”

Blearily, you opened your eyes, staring numbly at yourself in the mirror.

Bakugou grabbed a handful of your ass, kneading it roughly before spreading your cheeks apart, hand guiding his cock to line up with your entrance. It felt so awful, all of it. There was pain, and shame, and disgust, and you were mortified that the little candle of pleasure in your stomach was turning into a bonfire. At least Bakugou wasn’t a savage, or at least not interested in seeing you bleed (this time, he’d kneed you in the face once when you tried to refuse to suck his dick and given you a nosebleed) because he went slow. Well, as slow as a guy like him could go.

It was still entirely too fast, the way he entered you, pushing his hips forward easily and filling you up in one rough thrust.

You watched from the mirror, legs spread apart far enough that you could easily see when Bakugou was balls deep, his hip bones jutting against your ass. Your poor ass, you don’t think you’d be able to sit for a while after this.

The man paused when he bottomed out, breathing heavily, chuckling almost maniacally as he made eye contact with you through the dirty mirror.

“Fucking shit, you’re so goddamn tight. Mmh-“ he jostled his hips, his cock rubbing against your walls deliciously “-So wet too. You’re such a fucking slut, bet you’d gag on any dick you could find.”

You shook your head “No-no, I don’ - don’ do that!” You wept, but any further argument you were about to make was cut off by Bakugou pulling out, then thrusting into you as deep as he could.

Eyes still focused on where his cock was forcing you open, your jaw relaxed, and you struggled to keep your eyes open. You hated it, you hated it so much, but Bakugou was good at this. He was ramming into you, not fast, not slow, but hard and deep. Every few strokes he would shimmy his hips, and his cockhead hit something inside of you, something that made your legs weak and your pulse jump.

An excruciating pain bloomed across your ass, and your eyes snapped open - when had you closed them? You caught Bakugou’s gaze, and shivered. He was sweating, brows furrowed, intensely focused on watching your face in the mirror.

The intensity he was exhibiting scared you, honestly. Of course, Bakugou was pretty much always intense in everything he did, from playing football to studying (you’d seen him once in the library, hunched over his books with a scowl that could wilt weeds), but you’d never seen him look at something, at someone, like that.

He noticed you looking back at him, which made his cheeks color, and then another slap was delivered to your ass, and you yelped, jolting forward from the pain.

“Ba-akugo! I didn’ - please, I didn’t do anythingggg.” You openly wept.

You were ignored, Bakugou choosing to pound you harder rather than respond.

“Fucking look at yourself, damn. You’re nothing more than a stupid cockslut, a little whore. No one’s ever gonna want you, you’re absolutely worthless.” He spat, threading a hand through your hair, pulling your head back. You had to follow his hand or else he’d rip your hair out, an unspoken threat, so you did, until your back was flush against his chest. He wrapped a hand under your thigh, hiking it up into the air, forcing you to go on your tiptoes as he hooked your knee over his elbow, spreading you open.

“Look at that. See how wet you are? I can hear it.” He growls in your air, breathing heavily.

He was right, the slick sounds of him messing up your cunt reverberating in the bathroom. You could only watch as his cock hammered into you, his pace picking up quickly.

You started to cry, really cry. Ugly, heaving sobs, where you couldn’t breath, your head throbbing towards a horrific headache, hands uselessly grabbing at Bakugou’s arms, not to stop him, there was no way you could - but to steady yourself from the brutality of his thrusts.

“Oh fuck, fucking christ, ‘m close, shit.” Bakugou gasped, and you wiggled in his hold, hyperventilating. You knew it just turned him on more, made him fuck you harder, but you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to dislodge his cock. He couldn’t cum inside, please.

“Not-not inside! Please please please not inside, Bakugou ple-ase!”

Bakugou didn’t respond, just panted in your ear, low groans rumbling through his chest as his hips humped against you, driving his cock into your cunt with a sloppy squelch on each rapid thrust.

You felt him cum.

You felt the first few ropes of warmth shoot inside you, but then the blonde was pulling out, jacking his cock onto your pussy, striping the rest of his cum over the outside of your cunt. It was humiliating.

But you figured it was better than inside.

“Mmm, fuck bitch. You always know how to get me off. Good little pussy.” He finished humming, giving his wet cock one last tug, before messily slapping his hand over your cunt, rubbing his cum into your skin. It felt disgusting.

You let him do what he wanted, let him rub circles over your clit, let him abandon the little nub in favor of sticking two of his cum-covered fingers inside of you, rubbing at your walls quickly. It felt good, but you were tired, and you didn’t want it to.

“Alright, I got class. Wanna suck me clean?”

His hands retracted from your body, and he let your leg down, pushing you away from him as gently as he could (which wasn’t very gently). A side step, then he was in front of you, washing his hands underneath the sink. You watched him blankly.

“Well? You gonna suck me off? Or just stand there like a goddamn fish?”

You slowly dropped to your knees, cringing at the bathroom floor. It was nasty, dirty, probably covered in piss and maybe shit an-

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, I’m gonna be late.” Bakugou was looking at his phone, before his eyes flicked to you. He grabbed a handful of paper towels, dabbing at the mess covering his dick.

“How ‘bout you meet me after my class, and we’ll both get a little treat? Would you like that, stupid bitch?” He crouched down in front of you, pinching your cheek as he talked to you in a cutesy baby voice.

When you didn’t respond, he grabbed your chin, yanking you forward until you were inches from his face. “Say yes, or you’re not gonna like the shit I’ll do to you.”

“Ye-yes, yes Bakugou.” You spluttered, trying to stop hiccuping on sobs, but failing pathetically.

Bakugou nodded to himself, before pausing, as if appraising you. His eyes wandered over your face, and the next thing you knew he was kissing you, lips soft, passionate.

When he pulled away, you were left dazed, still kneeling on the ground. The man rose to his feet, stomping over to where his backpack hung on the door. He stopped to pick up your underwear from your sweatpants, pocketing the fabric as he grinned at you.

“Don’t forgot about meetin’ me after class, got it? Make me wait and I’ll beat your ass.” He paused, cocking his head to glance at your backside, before laughing. “Eh, or maybe I’ll just fuck it.” His eyes gleamed as he straightened his head. “So don’t be late.”

And with that warning he was shouldering his backpack, kicking your sweatpants towards you, slipping out the door.

Belatedly, you realized that your clit was still buzzing, that the pleasure clenching up your stomach hadn’t crested.

With a sob, you let your fingers find their way to your pussy.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #yanderebakugou #bakugou #yandere #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere bakugo x reader #bully bakugou

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hyakki59 · 3 years

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Eren Jaegar x Reader - Being Together for each other - One Shot

(The reason why I sometimes chose an other age as a background of my fictions, is because I like to imagine different eras when my imagination goes wild, lol. I don’t know if you find my following kind of background or my story interesting, but for anyone who will read it, I hope you enjoy. : )) )

•The background of the story takes place some decades after the Industry Revolution. The cities have already been developed, being full of machines and factories.

•That's not only this kind of world that exists though. You and Eren had grown up on a village. Actually, you could say that you two had grown together. Going on the same school, playing together on yards, exploring the woods like you were on mini adventures, etc, you know, stuff children usually do.

•As you two were almost finishing the school Eren had a little bit of a change on his character, like every human being. He was serious all the time and his smiles were more like sadden smiles. It's not that all this was something abnormal. As a human grows, they understand more and observe even more. So, many realizations are not always welcomed happily.

•Eren though had, let's say, a little bit of a flaw. He was giving up easily. He was preferring doing nothing when an obstacle was appearing in his life.

•You and Eren as old teens had spend hours discussing together about life and your problems, while sitting alone on short stone walls, in the nature or while walking.

•Eren had problems with his family. They had many arguments. Those were a big reason why Eren was most of the time gloomy.

•You believed that one day Eren would recover from all of this and that all he needed was time. But this kind of changing wasn't coming. Years passed and Eren sunk into depression. It wasn't visible at first, because it came slowly.

•You and Eren were no more students, but adults who needed to survive. You decided to study to nearby city's University, even though it was something unusual for women back then (but we don't care lol). You were going to city by bus, and sometimes you were also living there. That's why you weren't in contact with Eren everyday and you hadn't noticed that he had "fallen" in a hole that he couldn't escape emotionally.

•At the same period that you were studying, Eren wasn't putting even the smallest aim in his everyday life. He wasn't even starting a job, even to sell products from his family's farm.

•After you finished your studies you got an office job (or whatever else you want) at the city.

•One day you visited your hometown. As you walked the familiar roads of your village you ran into Eren. He was dragging a cart full of woods. His hair had grown a little, which he had pulled backwards, so they could not fall in front of his face. He was sweating because of his work and his clothes were having dirt on them.

•Your appearance surprised him, not only because he wasn't expecting you to be on the village, but also because of your different look. You were wearing a pencil skirt, a buttom-up shirt and heels. You were also resting a shoulder bag around your right shoulder, also holding it's straps with your right arm. You were looking so elegant and beautiful, causing Eren to blush a little.

•You both stood still looking at each other, Eren being at a loss with a slightly open mouth. He opened-closed his mouth slightly and finally spoke.

"Y/N?"

"Hey Eren"

You greeted him shyly, because you noticed his blushed and shocked state. Your eyes looked up at him, and you gave a small smile.

"You have changed"

Eren added with admiration

"Really?"

You asked as you added a small awkward laugh

"Y-Yeah"

He answered while rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry that I don't greet you properly. I'm full of dirt..."

•Eren added whipping slowly and awkwardly his hands on his clothes. He lowered his gaze down blushing more, because of his messy appearance, while you were there neat, with clean new clothes and your hair obviously made from a hair salon.

"Oh come on now, I grew up on a village, I know how it is, don't be sorry."

You told him while walking towards him.

"I'm going to visit my parents. I would like to greet yours as well, would you like to accompany me?"

You asked him while standing next to him.

"Y-Yeah, of course"

Eren answered and you walked ahead first as he turned his cart around to follow you. As you were ahead his eyes fell on your butt, who was moving right and left, wrapped with your tight skirt.

'That's city life'

He thought to himself, having slightly pink cheeks.

•That day you stayed for dinner at Eren's house. When you were about to leave you noticed that it was raining a lot outside, so Eren suggested you to wait at his home until the rain stops.

•You two headed to his room, it wasn't like the first time you went there. You two had grown up like you were siblings or relatives, that's how close you were.

•When you entered his room you headed to his bed and sat there. You leaned down and took off your heels with your hand leaving a pain sigh.

"Ah.. these heels are killing me. I suffer when I wear them for hours..."

You said while you lifted your legs on Eren's bed, benting them and resting them on your side.

Not only Eren could see your bare feet through your tights, but your painted nails on your toes as well. If that would be possible, Eren would 'nosebleed' at that moment. But he tried to be expressionless, walking on his room like nothing was happening. He took a chair and sat across of you, resting his left elbow at the back of the chair and he also crossed his legs.

"Why you sat so far away?"

You asked him with full of question in your voice, smiling also at him in a way that was showing that you found his state weird.

"Why you didn't sat there?"

You asked him again while looking and pat pat-ing the spot of the bed next to you

"Nah, I'm cool"

He answered by closing his eyes and doing a circle with his hand/fingers with his left arm, in which he is supporting his self.

"No, you are not"

You told him moving your head slightly right and left, with an awkward side smile and added:

"You are acting weird"

"Am I?"

He asked trying to sound natural.

"Yeah"

You answered immediately. But Eren just shrugged and lifted his eyebrows as an answer to show that he wasn't seeing anything wrong. He changed the subject anyway.

"Will you stay many days here at the village?"

"No, I'm leaving tomorrow."

You answered to Eren.

"So soon? Why?"

"I have to go back to work. I just came by to see my family and my closest people."

"Oh, so am I one of your closest people?"

Eren asked you by lifting instantly his eyebrows to tease you, also smirking at the same time.

"Of course, you idiot"

You answered seriously. Eren liked your answer and just stood still looking at you like he was observing your face, or you could say your expression. He then observed all of you, reminding to himself that you look beautiful and more woman than ever. It was like he was having a different Y/N in front of him. Eren was admiring you not only for your change but because you were an independent person who was living alone and working on the city. At the same time he was jealous by this kind of lifestyle and he was feeling like he had been left behind. (The living alone part I know that it may not be realistic for women back then, but anyway I wanted it like that)

•Some months have passed since that day. It was now a cold night of the winter and you were returning home from work.

•As you were walking on the pavement, your eye fell on a man that was sitting down on a narrow pass between two buildings. He was sitting with his legs bented because of the cold and his gaze was down. He was wearing a white buttom-up shirt, black pants and a beige coat, all those clothes in a not good condition.

•For some reason that silhouette was seeming familiar to you, even though he looked like a stranger. His long hair were failing on his face, so it was difficult to see him clearly. But you approached him slowly.

"Eren?"

You asked that man without being sure it was really Eren. Only his eyes met you, without moving. The expression of his eyes was calm and his lips were slightly open, but he wasn't saying anything. How this man with the messy long hair, the grown beard and the sloppy clothes, who was sitting on the city's street like a homeless man, could be Eren? Yet, you couldn't ever forget his dark green eyes and you were sure that man was Eren.

"Eren is that you?"

You continue to ask that man but didn't get any answer back. Specifically, he looked away like he wanted to stop your questions.

"Eren I know it's you, why you don't talk to me?"

You asked him worryingly and scared for his state. You approached him even more and bented your knees so you could come closer to his height.

"Eren.. what's happening?"

You asked him quietly. That man, clearly that it was Eren, seemed annoyed by your questions, more like annoyed because of his state and that you found him like that. He rolled his eyes and turned his head to the right so he could avoid your gaze and he tapped his feet three/four times on the ground, as proof that he didn't like this situation.

"Go to your home Y/N"

He finally said with a low voice.

"Eren! I knew it was you! What are you doing here? Are you alright?"

You asked him obviously worried and grabbed his shoulder as you were talking to him. Eren shook his shoulder so you could let him go, his face still turned away from you.

"Y/N. I said. Go home."

Eren told you in a more demanding way. By the way his voice was sounding, you could understand that he was hurt emotionally.

"No.. Eren.. I don't understand. I can't leave you like that. Tell me, what are you doing here? What happened to you?"

It seemed like he wasn't about to answer.

"It's okay Eren, you don't have to tell me now. But, please, come with me. Let's go to my home."

No answer again.

"You are worrying me sick, you know- Oh my God, what happened to your face? Are you hurt? Did you got hurt anywhere else?"

You bombarded Eren with questions. Your brain couldn't accept what it was seeing and you were let's say shocked.

Eren seemed to have some red spots and wounds near his left eye, which was not visible at first because his long hair were covering them. He couldn't avoid you anymore, you had discovered him at this terrible state and you weren't about to leave.

Once more he was looking away and his lips trembled. His eyes were a little bit red and misty.

"I decided to visit the city.."

He started saying but paused. You were waiting patiently for him to continue.

"I found a hotel to stay for while.."

Eren's gaze was down to the ground having the image of his previous days in his mind that he is describing to you.

"During my stay here...some strangers robbed me.."

He paused again like he was thinking before answering.

"...and hurt me in order to do to that."

You moved your head to your side with a sad expression, feeling sorry about Eren.

"I didn't have money anymore to stay at the hotel.. and we reach at my current state that you see me."

Eren admitted at the end, not liking that he was saying all this to you.

"Why you didn't return home?"

You asked him quietly.

"How could I? How could I present myself to my parents like that? There was no way for me to do that."

Eren said determinedly, looking this time at your eyes.

"Why you didn't try to find me then?"

You asked him connecting your eyebrows worryingly.

"That's even worse. And see me like that? Not that you didn't anyway..."

He answered you, lowering his gaze to his knees.

"Eren.. don't say that. I'm here for you any time you need me. You have this bad habit and never ask for help from the others. Anyone needs help from time to time."

You told him reassuringly with care.

"How come you decided to come here in the first place?"

You asked him to learn more.

"I wanted to find a job."

He answered you

"But that didn't went well"

He added, something breaking inside of him.

"I can't do anything right. Nothing is right. Life is never with my side. Everything gets shittier and shittier, and in the end I'm a fucking loser."

"No Eren, you are not a loser"

You tried to said but Eren interrupted you.

"Yes, I am Y/N! I'm fucking disappointed with myself! I can't even understand me!"

Eren broke out having an indignant expression. You then approached him even more, shoving yourself between his knees and hugging him warmly around his neck. Eren returned the hug, shoving his face on your shoulder. His hand grabbed tightly your coat and he let out a small wimp, tears leaving quietly his eyes.

You put your your right hand behind Eren's head, leaned back a little and touched your lips on his forehead, staying still for a while.

A drunk man that was walking not steadily down the pavement, passed by you two and laughed at himself.

"Lucky bastard"

He said loud enough looking at Eren, because in the eyes of his he was seeing a homeless man having a fine woman between his legs hugging and kissing him. And like that the drunk man lost in the dark of the night.

After your kiss on Eren's forehead you leant back resting your right palm on Eren's left cheek. Eren had a look in his eyes like he had found warmth.

"Eren, you will come now home with me and I don't accept any objection. You hear me?"

You shook a little Eren's face with your right hand as you said 'you hear me' to him. That's what Eren would like to do but he was too embarrassed to follow you. He just stood still having like a guilty look, looking you at your eyes. You could understood what the answer was by his eyes so that's why you said:

"Now get up"

You told him as you stood up first and grabbed him by his one upper limb to give him motivation to stood up.You tried to pull him but Eren let out a pain cry because his left leg was hurt. You did a worried expression looking at him in his face like you were asking him 'what's going on?'.

"It's nothing"

Eren said with pain in his voice and managed to stood still by grabbing your hand. You saw that he was limping so you grabbed his right arm and crossed it around your shoulders to help him stand. Eren looked at you with connecting eyebrows and added

"I'm a total loser"

"No, you are not! Shut up and move your butt!!"

You scolded him and like that you two took the road towards your apartment.

~°~°~°~

•One month had passed since the previous event. Eren is living now at your apartment for a while till he stands on his feet and find a steadily job.

•He even got rid of his beard and decided to have a nice haircut so he would look more elegant. The day he did that change he asked you as he returned home.

"How do I look? Am I better now?"

He was all happy and lively, having a big smile. As he did the questions he posed turning left and right grabbing his suit's jacket.

"You always you look good. But, yeah, you look very nice now."

You answered naturally with a smile and kept tidying some things in the living room that you did before. Eren wanted you though to notice him more and said

"What do you say, would the ladies like me now?"

You did a side smile and turned only your head towards Eren.

"So you came only for the city ladies and not actually for working huh?"

You answered him teasingly.

"Well, I'm just wondering if it's too dangerous for me to go around with that new look of mine"

Eren continued the teasing looking himself in the living room's mirror and getting his fingers through his hair like he was admiring himself.

"Ladies' killer don't forget you have an appointment for your new job in a half an hour. You will miss the bus if you don't hurry."

You told him like a mum. Eren wished you would pay more attention on his appearance.

"I know, that's why I got dressed so nice today."

He said, straightening up the collar of his button-up shirt, still looking at the mirror.

"It would be a pity though to wear my suit just for a short time. Why don't we go out after my interview and tell you how I got the job?"

He said smirking and sure of himself.

"Oh, you are asking me out mr. Jaegar?"

Eren tried to act cool and said

"I'm just asking an old friend of mine to accompany me after my today's success."

He answered still looking in the mirror observing himself, like if he was indifferent. You laughed with Eren's mood because you found his acting cute.

"Then how can I deny your suggestion? I will be ready by the time you return home."

You told him with a smirk. Eren suddenly felt the happiest man on the planet.

•Eren indeed got the job and even though he was working he was still living in your apartment. To be more specific, he was sleeping separately from you, in the guest's room.

• It was supposed though to be like you two have agreed at first, for Eren to live with you until he could stand on his own. But none of you were saying anything about it anymore. You two actually were enjoying each other's company and wouldn't like to be separated.

•One night you returned really tired from your work that the first thing you wanted to do when you would return home was to sleep.

"Hey Y/N"

Eren greeted you from the couch in which he was sitting, smiling as you got home. You let out a 'hey' with a low voice as you were getting off your heels.

"How was work today?"

He asked you and you answered him by just turning your head towards him, showing him your exhausted state.

"Okay, I get it"

He added.

"How about I prepare you a nice warm bath to help you relax?"

He offered to you as he stood up approaching you.

"No, it's okay Eren. I'm so tired even for this. I will just go to sleep right away. Thanks for the thought."

You answered him as you headed towards your room to change your clothes. Then you visited to bathroom to find your brush. As you were combing your hair Eren appeared and rested himself at the doorframe, crossing his arms. He looked you up and down at you with a smile. You were wearing just a nightgown.

"You are beautiful"

He commented and you stopped your motions looking at him.

"Where did this came from?"

You asked him, observing him, having lips that wanted to smile.

"Nowhere. I'm just telling what I’m seeing."

"Well, thanks"

You answered him awkwardly, not expecting the compliment. Your heart started to beat faster not knowing what to do or say. You two stayed silence.

"W-Well, now, w-will you excuse me?"

You said to Eren still awkwardly by grabbing bathroom's door, meaning that you wanted to close the door and go to the toilet. Eren answered with a double nod and lifted his right lower limb to the air like he was saying 'yeah, of course' and turned away. He also rubbed the back of his neck while walking away, feeling nervous.

•As you returned to your room, you shoved yourself under the blankets and your eyes closed right away. Eren appeared by your door which was slightly open, hoping you haven't slept yet.

"Oh, Y/N, I forgot you to tell you. There's some dinner left. I cooked tonight. Your favourite fooood. Pasta."

He said playfully but as he opened the door more he saw that you have fallen asleep completely. You were laying on your back your face turned to the side. Eren approached you, climbing at the bed's side where was some space. You moved a little in your sleep because your sleeping state felt some interruption. Eren stopped moving, looking at you. He saw that your hands were out of the blanket. He grabbed the blanket's edge and he covered you properly. He then took some hair away that was infront of your face and thought 'Now it's my turn to take care of you'.

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okay-j-hannah · 3 years

Text

Tactless

Harry Potter : Prompt

Fred x Reader

Word Count: 3082

Warnings: heckidy heck heck it’s just so tender 😭

Request: “Omg your Fred Weasley x reader fics are SO GOOD. Could you please write a Fred x Reader with prompts 18 and 38? Set when they’re still at Hogwarts if that’s okay. Thank you xx” @bnha-sero-hanta

Prompts:

18. “Yes, it’s a questionable line of work, but I’m good at it.”

38. “I guess I was wrong about you. You’re not so bad after all.”

A/N: Freddie has not been himself lately, and every time you meet something horribly embarrassing happens; what could possibly be making him so shy?

“Isn’t there a way for them to be more discrete about all that inventing nonsense?” (Y/N) questioned, trying to keep her attention on the essay in front of her.

Ginny looked over her shoulder to see her twin brothers broadcasting to a hoard of first years. It made her grimace and return to her quill and ink, “They’re just excited about the joke shop. I don’t blame them – we all want to make a little extra money.”

(Y/N) peered over to see them passing out toffees and sickles to the children, “Experimenting on innocents.”

“Why are you so against them building their career?” Ginny asked her, pushing her parchment aside, “They’re not hurting anyone.”

“Until they do.”

The first years stood around the stocky brothers, watching them explain how their candy worked. (Y/N) slumped in her seat, observing, and biting the inside of her cheek. She may be Ginny’s friend, but that doesn’t mean she has to agree with everything her siblings did.

“Hey, Weasley!” she yelled over, snorting when Fred popped a toffee into his mouth for demonstration.

The twins looked up and it was plain to see the slight fear that entered Fred’s face, his eyes widening. George was holding a bin to his side as he called back, “Yeah?”

“Do you always get children to do your bidding?” She crossed her arms and Fred’s face became pale at her staring at him, before he clutched at George’s bin and raised it to his face. He immediately started to vomit violently.

The first years all reacted audibly, taking several steps back; (Y/N) made a disgusted face, forcing out a scoff.

George thrusted a purple candy into his brother’s hand, evidently frantic to get him out of this awkward situation. And after Fred finished retching in the bin, he returned a strained look towards (Y/N), wiping his lip.

Ginny shook her head, “Tactless,” rolling her eyes.

“Puking Pastilles,” Fred mumbled towards her, swallowing hard, “A – A way to get out of class.”

“Oh, good,” (Y/N) replied, “And subjecting kiddies to this… vomiting exercise, will prove what? That they work?”

It appeared that Fred was lost for words; he may have been cured of the pastille, but he still looked pale and on the verge of being sick again.

“That they work for everyone,” George stated for him, “We’ve… we’ve only tested them on ourselves.”

“Well, I think exhibit A is enough,” she gestured towards Fred as the surrounding first years began returning the candies and sickles. “Joke’s on you, I guess.”

Ginny opened her mouth and smiled at her friend, “Ouch.”

The twins appeared defeated as their testing crowd dispersed. (Y/N) simply returned to her essay and laughed, “No witty comebacks this time.” She raised her eyebrows and felt Ginny’s gaze on her, “What?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, somewhat smiling, “You like to pick on my brothers a lot. I’ve never seen anyone shut them up quite like you do.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Ginny nodded slowly and then whispered, “One might think you have an effect on them.”

“What?” (Y/N) set down her quill, splotching her last sentence, “You better be about to say that the only effect I have is in jostling their brains into a little common sense.”

A shrug was what she got in return, “I don’t know… you’re doing something though.” She nudged her head to what was behind her shoulder.

When (Y/N) looked, she noticed that Fred was still staring at her, ashen faced, but he promptly turned his head as George cleared the vomit from the bin with his wand.

“That’s not weird at all.”

It was Ginny’s turn to raise her eyebrows and laugh.

They continued with their homework until lunch where they walked to the Great Hall together, Ginny still acting peculiar about the events that occurred in the common room. It was like she couldn’t start any new topic that didn’t involve Fred’s name in the mix.

By the time they sat at the Gryffindor table, she was starting to get fed up, “Why does it matter so much that I support this joke shop? It’s a reckless line of work that doesn’t guarantee a steady income or good reputation.”

Ginny still avoided answering the complete question, “I can’t have you arguing with my family every time we’re hanging out.” She forked some potatoes as (Y/N) turned full body to her, squinting her eyes.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“What makes you say that?”

(Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek, “You’ve been bringing up your family all day, specifically the twins. Have I offended them in some way? Is your mum disowning me from Christmas dinner?”

“No, no,” she replied, trying to put less suspicion in her tone of voice, “I just… I can’t outright tell you. It’s kind of a special request.”

(Y/N) pushed her plate away, “You’re doing one hell of a job; no one suspects you at all.”

“I never claimed to be a good liar,” she snickered, urging her friend to eat something before quidditch practice. “Just that I have someone’s back in putting a good word in for them.”

“As in… there’s someone that wants to get on my good side?” She observed a platter of gingerbread cakes, selecting a particularly golden brown one.

Ginny took a sip of her pumpkin juice to give herself some time, “Maybe a little further than your good side.”

Taking a bite of the cake, (Y/N) licked her lips of the orange marmalade, “You’ve basically told me already, just give me a name.”

“You’re not gonna like it,” she smiled, giving her friend the eye, until her brows contorted. “(Y/N) – you’re bleeding.”

“Hm?” she swallowed another bite of cake and then felt a dribble run down, over her lips, “What the…”

A voice came running towards them, “No! Don’t eat the gingerbread – oh…” Fred appeared on their side of the bench, his eyes widening at the sight before him, “(Y/N) …”

She clamped a hand over her nose as a continuous stream of blood came flooding through her fingers. Ginny gasped at the realization of what was happening, standing, and pushing her brother.

“Give her the antidote!”

Fred fumbled with his pockets, stuttering, as George ran up behind him, “I’m… oh God – (Y/N) … I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t reply as she tried to stunt the bleeding with nearby napkins. Ginny pulled her hair back as George folded his arms and bit one of his nails.

“The marmalade,” Fred tried to continue, “It… it was another test.”

(Y/N) gave him a narrowed look, “You couldn’t get volunteers, so you decided to plant traps for unsuspecting students?” She sounded clogged up and numb.

Fred tried to unwrap a purple end of a sweet, accidentally dropping it in the process. (Y/N) slapped a hand on her knee in impatience as the blood began dripping off her chin and onto her shirt. Her insides boiled at the complete disregard of consideration.

But she couldn’t help but see the blush threading itself up his neck and to the tips of his ears. It was making his freckles stand out and the terrified look in his gaze. Fred Weasley never looked terrified. He always had a smirk on his face, his eyes were always smiling, and his hands never shook like that.

“Here, take this,” he mumbled, dusting off the purple candy from being on the floor, “It’ll make the bleeding stop.”

She gave him a skeptical look, “Forgive me for seeing that as questionable.”

He swallowed hard, holding the candy out further, “Yes, it’s a questionable line of work, but I’m good at it.”

(Y/N) resigned and stuffed the purple end in her mouth, feeling sudden clarity in her nose. The stream of blood now came in a slow trickle.

“Better?” Fred asked – and his face looked exceptionally genuine. The slant of his brow made her hesitate.

“Yes.” It came out more like a question than a statement, “Thank you.”

He nodded and tried at a painful smile, “I’m sorry about that.”

Ginny punched him in the shoulder, “You should be! My God, what was that?”

“Nosebleed Nougat,” George answered, clearly peering at his brother with the same concern and confusion that (Y/N) was. “Another joke sweet to…”

“Get students out of class,” (Y/N) finished, continuing to wipe her nose. “I still don’t agree with it, you know. And this…” she pointed at the gingerbread cakes, “Is not helping your case.”

Fred looked down at his shoes, “I’m sorry.”

“(Y/N),” Ginny smacked her friend’s shoulder, “Oliver’s calling the team over.”

Oliver Wood, the quidditch captain, was talking to Angelina, Katie, and Harry by the entrance hall. George pulled on his brothers arm, snapping him out of whatever trance distracted him. It looked like he wanted to say something else, maybe apologize further, but George yanked him away, talking to him in hushed tones.

“What is it with your brothers today?” She looked in the back of her water goblet to make sure all the blood was off her nose, “I feel like we’re just meeting under the worst circumstances today.”

“Tell me about it,” Ginny sighed, running a hand through her hair, “I can only do so much.”

(Y/N) stood to meet the team, but paused, “So one of your brothers wants to be on my good side.”

She sucked in her lips and gave her friend a sympathetic gaze, “I did my best, but they’re not exactly pulling their weight.”

“Okay, okay…” (Y/N) muttered, hands on her hips, “So one of the twins wants to… get closer to me – is that how you put it? Which one is it then?”

“Nope, I’m done meddling with other peoples relationships.” Ginny put up her hands, “You need to get to quidditch practice, and I need to finish Flitwick’s essay.”

“I can’t believe that one of your brothers likes me,” (Y/N) suddenly said, awe in her tone. “I’m completely horrible to them.” Ginny shrugged, forcing (Y/N) to continue on with her side of things, “There’s no way… is that why they’re always acting different around me?”

“(Y/N)!” came Oliver’s voice, “If we lose the game with Ravenclaw I’m going to blame your lack of participation in practice.”

She whined under her breath, “We are talking when I get back tonight.”

Ginny put a treacle tart in her mouth before waving and leaving the Great Hall. (Y/N) proceeded to follow the rest of the team down to the quidditch pitch, all along the way noticing how Fred and George appeared to be fighting with each other as they walked.

The pitch was cloudy with a slight breeze and there was still some tension between the twins. Oliver quickly noticed and tried to intimidate the distraction out of them. (Y/N) stayed quiet, observing from a distance, still questioning which one of the brothers supposedly liked her. It still baffled her how it could be possible with how much they argued, especially over something big like their career choice.

“Pull your act together, guys,” Oliver retorted, “We have to beat Ravenclaw with a fifty point lead if we want a shot at the cup.”

Fred shoved George away and laughed, tripping over something. (Y/N) came slowly behind them, finding that something had fallen out of George’s pocket while being pushed. It was a cracked vial of a greenish substance.

“Hey, you dropped something!” she called out, bending over to reach the bottle.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that the twins stopped at the sound of her voice. When they noticed what she was picking up there was panic immediate in their voices.

“(Y/N), don’t touch that!”

But she’d already gotten some of the liquid seeping from the cracked glass onto her fingers. They immediately started burning and bubbling.

“Ah! What is this?” She dropped the vial and tried to rub her fingertips clean, only to spread it onto the rest of her hands. Large angry boils were sprouting from her skin, red and painful.

“It’s undiluted bubotuber pus,” George yelled as they reached her frantic figure. “We were gonna use it for…”

“Nevermind that,” (Y/N) cried, now rubbing her sizzling hands onto her quidditch robes, “How do I make it stop?” She was starting to feel her eyes water with the rising pain.

Fred began his stuttering again, his hands shaking worse than they had at lunch, “You… we have to see Madam Pomfrey.”

Oliver came running over, clear frustration in his gaze, “And why, may I ask, are you three huddled over here ignoring practice?”

“(Y/N) got bubotuber pus on her hands,” Fred stated, helping the girl to her feet, “We need to take her to the hospital wing.”

“No, we can manage practice with only one beater, not zero. You take her; George can stay with the rest of the team. Get that sorted out, (Y/N), preferably before our match this weekend.”

Fred tried to steady his hands as he led the way back to the castle, “(Y/N) … I don’t know what to say.”

She attempted to hide the whimper that wanted to escape, cradling her boil covered hands. It was her turn to remain quiet.

“Everything keeps going wrong today,” he continued, watching her closely from his stance beside her. “I’m so sorry. I want to make it – it right, but…”

“Why won’t they stop burning?” she mumbled, clearly not listening as well as she could be.

Fred frowned, sympathy heavy in his face as he hesitantly, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Madam Pomfrey can fix it – George and I have been through the same thing.”

She now couldn’t help the tears that were starting to pool in her eyes, her hands were absolutely killing her.

“You’re going to be alright,” he said quietly, keeping his hand on her back, “You know I really am sorry. You were never supposed to get in the mix of all the experiments.”

They made a steady pace down the corridor and into the hospital wing, getting Madam Pomfrey’s attention quickly. She grabbed a number of potion as Fred led (Y/N) to a bed.

“They’ll feel a lot better after this,” Fred stated, taking a seat beside her, but sitting stick straight and staring at her injured hands.

A tear or two finally leaked onto her cheeks and Fred was itching to comfort her in some way, “Oh, (Y/N) don’t cry! I – this is all my fault.”

She sniffed and tried not to move her hands as she shifted to address Fred.

“You know, I thought you were a complete ass just this morning. But I’ve never seen this side of you.”

He timidly shrugged his shoulders and finally met her eyes, “It seems to only happen when I’m around you.”

(Y/N) started to nod her head, feeling the tears leave uncomfortable tracks down her face. She gave a watery smile and tried to wipe her cheeks on her shoulder.

“Here,” he muttered as he grabbed a handkerchief off the nightstand and held it to her face, “I’ve got it, if that’s okay.”

She gave him a look and contemplated. She noticed that familiar blush creeping up his neck, complimenting his freckles. His eyes became downcast again as he caught her looking at him.

“Sure, thank you.”

It seemed he wasn’t expecting that, but he reached over and wiped away the tear tracks as she peered at him doing so. She could visibly see him swallow hard, that slight fear inching its way onto his features.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “You look a little pink.” She couldn’t help but smirk a little.

Fred licked his lips, “Y-Yeah, you’re just… nevermind.”

“No, you have to tell me!” she smiled despite the pain. “I’ve been trying to figure you out all day and I’m not gonna believe Ginny until you outright say it.”

He flashed his eyes to her, “Ginny told you?”

“I don’t know… what was she supposed to not tell me?”

He turned his gaze to her pulsating hands and shook his head slightly, “You… you have a beautiful smile.” He didn’t wait for a response before he put his face in his hands, “I’m sorry, I know you hate me and what I do. I just… I shouldn’t have said anything.”

There was a major silence between them for a while. Fred subtly scooted away from her bed, intertwining his fingers on his lap. (Y/N) waited as Madam Pomfrey came hurriedly over to apply medicine and bandages to her hands. She felt immensely better afterwards but wished that Fred did too.

He looked like he was really beating himself up over it. It was like his cheeks were permanently stained pink.

“You know what, Fred,” she finally said after the long awkward silence, “I guess I was wrong about you. You’re not so bad after all.”

He could’ve snapped his neck with how fast he turned to look at her, “What?”

“How about this… if you stop experimenting your joke products on first years, then you can take me out in Hogsmeade.”

“But… but I vomited in front of you.”

She nodded her head and admired her bandages.

“And I gave you a nosebleed.”

“Yes, you did.”

“And I got undiluted bubotuber pus on your hands – I put you through pain!”

She raised her eyebrows at him, “Your point being?”

He finally cracked the first smile of the day, “You have every right to hate me. I messed everything up! I should have no chance with you.”

“Just because a few pranks go awry doesn’t mean it’s impossible for us to get along. Be something.”

“Why… why this sudden change of heart?” he was wringing his hands in anticipation, obviously never dreaming this moment would ever happen.

She bit her lip, “I think, for the first time, I’m actually seeing you. The one behind the Weasley twin persona.” That made him smile wider as she added, “I think I like him a lot more than the trivial prankster.”

“You like him?” he practically whispered.

“Now that I think about it,” she hummed, “I may have been a tiny bit in denial.”

The look on his face was almost comical – he appeared to be straining to not smile so broadly, “If you didn’t have mitts for hands, I would very much like to hold one right now.”

She laughed, something that pulled that grin out of him, “Keep it up, Weasley. We’re getting on the right track.”

~~~

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amlovelies · 3 years

Text

from which they never recovered

fandom: fhr pairing: Julia Ortega/f!sidestep (Cynthia Basri) rating/warnings: M--alcohol use/abuse as well as death/suicide reference. light spoilers for retribution. there’s some soft fluffy moments, but it ends with pretty heavy angst words: 2.4k read on ao3

“They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise

1525 days before

Julia winces and drops her hand. The angle she needs to start the braid is putting too much pressure on her injured shoulder. Her long dark hair is still damp after the shower washed away all the traces of blood and grime and God knows what else the fight had left on her. She could just leave it alone, let it air dry, but that’ll just mean a bigger fight later. Better to grin and bear it now, get it braided and tucked away even if hurts. It’s just pain. Julia is no stranger to pain.

“Let me idiot” Sidestep says from as she rises from her chair on the other end of the breakroom.

“What are you plotting?” Julia narrows her eyes. She never should have introduced her to Anathema. Themmy had always enjoyed pranks, but they had gotten much more effective ever since Sidestep had begun hanging out at HQ.

“Nothing, I promise.” It’s amazing how Julia can hear the eye roll behind the unmoving mask. “It’s just a little pathetic watching you struggle, old woman.”

Not afraid to ruffle feathers this one, maybe that’s why she likes having her around, even if the old barb stung a little. That’s fine, two can play at that game, “do you even know how to braid? For all I know you could be bald under there.”

“I know how to do lots of things, Marshal.” Sidestep crosses to stand behind the couch, and Juila has to tilt her head back to keep her in her sights. Is she flirting?

“Oh really? Have any other skills you’d like to show me?” Julia replies with a wink. Is she flirting back? This is new.

“Do you want help or not?” She doesn’t wait for an answer instead pushing Julia’s head forward and beginning to gather the hair in her hands.

Julia is used to other people touching her. The doctors checking on her mods, the media team preparing her for an appearance. Hair and makeup and wardrobe buzzing around her making sure she looks presentable, attractive, heroic. It comes with the territory. So why then is a quiet tension building in her stomach, a fluttering awareness of how close Sidestep, no not Sidestep—Cynthia, stands? It’s still a new concession, the name, a small piece of the mystery of Sidestep. She rolls it around in her mind, still not used to it, but the moment feels too personal, too intimate for aliases.

Her gloves are off, Cynthia’s bare fingers brushing against the shell of her ear, the back of her neck as she gathers all the loose strands together. Cynthia’s breath ghosts over on her scalp, her body standing so much closer than usual. Cynthia’s movements are soft and timid; the braid is looser than Julia would prefer, as if she’s afraid of making it too tight of pulling her hair, of hurting her.

A world of difference from training where she never pulls her punches. Julia had gotten more than a handful of bruises from their sparring matches. Had given them too, Sidestep was never one to tap out, just a single minded intensity and desire to win. Julia could understand that.

“I should have been quicker,” Cynthia’s words breaking the silence. Her voice cracking, just a little, just enough to make Julia reach back and grab her hand. Her skin is cool, softer than she expected.

�� “And I should have been more careful.” A gentle squeeze of the hand

“Fat chance of that happening,” Cynthia says with a laugh, extracting her hand, and returning her attention to finishing the braid.

“You know me,” Julia’s chuckle is soft, her hand slowly returning to her lap. Her skin tingles, itches and she fiddles with the emitter. “I’d be a hell of a lot worse off than a sore shoulder if you hadn’t been there.” Hospitalized for sure, maybe dead.

“I couldn’t let that happen when you owe me dinner.” A final twist and the braid is finished.

“I better clear my debt then; c’mon I know just the place.”

1329 days before

“You don’t even know what I look like.” Cyn paces back and forth in the empty training room. Frustration rolling off of her in waves.

It had been six weeks, two of which Julia had spent worried sick because Cynthia wouldn’t return her calls. Finally breathing a sigh of relief when she’d shown up at HQ as if nothing had happened, resolutely sidestepping all of Julia’s attempts to get her alone, to talk to her about the kiss.

Like dealing with a skittish animal, Julia had done her best to give her space. This was all new for her too, but dinner was a safe place to start, wasn’t it?

“So?” Julia smile is soft her voice certain, “I know you.”

“You only think you do” Cynthia scoffs, her pacing finally stilled as she stands with her arms crossed. No doubt glaring behind the mask.

“Then show me, tell me.” Just one step closer. She isn’t moving away.

“Nosy.”

“I am.” A pause, “I would also like to kiss you again.” It comes out softer than Julia had intended, more an admission than a tease.

She waits. Waits for a quip or an insult, something caustic and sharp, a way to put more distance between them, but it doesn’t come. Just silence.

A deep breath, and then quick, so quick, Cynthia’s hands are moving and the mask is off. Her voice is hard as she asks, “still want to kiss me?”

She looks smaller without the mask, smaller and younger and fragile. Just Cynthia, not Sidestep. She won’t meet Julia’s eyes. Her stance rigid and fierce as if expecting some sort of condemnation, as if Julia would take one look at be disgusted.

“Very much so,” Julia admits, and it’s the truth. She’d hardly allowed herself to speculate on what lay under the mask. There were things she knew; facts gathered from the bits and pieces she had seen. The warm tawny color of her skin, the full swell of her lips, the way her smile goes crooked, images which had haunted the edges of her dreams.

“You’re ridiculous,” Cynthia’s voice is brittle, all the hardness from before falling away.

Had she really expected rejection? Couldn’t she see how beautiful she is?

“I’ve been told that once or twice.”

She’s rolling her eyes, but she isn’t pulling away as Julia tilts her face up. Her lips are chapped, but still soft. Soft, like the gasp that falls out of them just before their lips meet. Cynthia’s arms rising to wrap around Julia’s neck, and the kiss deepens into something molten and breathless.

The kiss breaks, and Julia pulls back. Not far, just enough to watch Cynthia’s face, to try and memorize her features and make them fit into the idea of Sidestep, for her brown eyes to begin to replace the white of her mask in her mind.

She kisses her again, a small peck, and Cynthia chases her lips. Pulling her down, the kiss is hungry and unexpected. Soon, too soon, she’s moving away. Mask pulled down, features concealed, only the familiar blank visage of Sidestep and even that is turning away.

“I should go,” mumbled almost as an afterthought as she nearly runs for the door. Julia watches her go hoping it won’t be weeks until she sees her again.

518 days before

Cyn is sleeping again. Good. Maybe those dark circles under her eyes will start to fade. She’d slept for most of the drive, passing out almost as soon as they left the city limits. Something is wrong, has been wrong for weeks now. Should have forced her to go to the hospital after the nanosurge. Thrown her over her shoulder and carried her there if she had to. It wasn’t right to see her this way. Julia knew using her telepathy took a lot out of Cyn. Had seen her drained and exhausted, but never like this.

The city would be smoldering ruins if the military had their way. Julia would be . . . she shudders at the memory. There wouldn’t be anything left but her mods. No piece of Julia left to bury, just Charge.

Cyn had saved them all, and maybe broke herself in the process.

At least she’s at the ranch now. Oh, it had taken days to get her to agree, but in the end, Julia had worn her down. Mama hasn’t quit fussing over her; Cyn has offered little resistance, probably just because she is too sleep deprived and weak to protest, but it’s still a victory.

Julia rejoins her mother in the kitchen. The last thing she needs is for Cyn to wake up and accuse her of watching her sleep. It would be true, but she can’t let her have the satisfaction.

“You should have brought her sooner,” Elena admonishes.

“I tried, Mama. She’s stubborn.”

Her look is pointed, “so are you. Never stopped me.”

“It’s not the same, Mama.” Julia sighs. They’ve struck a delicate balance the last few years. Cyn still disappearing on occasion, but only for days at a time. Not like before when she would be gone for weeks at a time. Reappearing with no explanation, but always looking worn. She keeps hoping that one day Cyn will share her secrets and let her help.

Mama purses her lips, and Julia knows that look, knows she has more she wants to say and prepares herself for the old arguments and questions. Questions she wishes she had the answer for. Or at least wishes she knew Cyn’s answer. Julia knows hers, has for a while now.

A shuffling sound as Cyn joins them and stops the lecture in its tracks. The circles are still there, but the deep crease between her eyes has softened. Good.

“Did we wake you mija?” Mama voice is gentle unlike the glare she shoots at Julia. As if she hadn’t been talking too.

“It’s fine,” Cyn says with a yawn. “I’ve been napping too much today as it is,” she adds as she leans against Julia.

It’s still a surprise when she’s willing to do that. To lean in, to hug, to kiss, to initiate contact rather than waiting for Julia to bridge the gap. Perhaps it’s a testament to how much stopping the nanosurge took from her. Cynthia not just accepting comfort, but seeking it out. The nosebleeds haven’t stopped, but at least they are less frequent. Leaning down, Julia presses a quick kiss to Cyn’s temple. She doesn’t even push her away.

“Well, in that case, come help me with the vegetable, and Julia can work on the sauce.” Mama says as she begins grabbing ingredients and piling them on the counter.

The three of them work well together, and Julia doesn’t even mind being the butt of all their jokes. Not that she’ll let them know that, after all she has a reputation to uphold. The bruising to her ego is worth it though, because at least Cyn is smiling and laughing. Almost looking like her normal self. Julia doesn’t trust her when she says she’ll be fine, but she hopes its true. Maybe a few days away from the city will be enough.

Later, Cyn joins her outside. The stars are an unfamiliar sight, so used to the neon haze of Los Diablos, it’s easy to forget about them. It’s strange to think that they are still there, just hidden. They feel so much a part of the ranch and the open air, of childhood and more innocent times. A different world than the one of heroes and villains.

Slipping her hand in Julia’s she whispers, “I won’t say that you were right, but thank you.”

Julia can’t hide her smile as she captures Cyn’s lips in a kiss, but at least she resists the urge to say I told you so.

6 days after

She’s out of tequila. Fuck. Her edges are coming back into focus and there’s nothing to dull them.

There’s a bar in walking distance, or she could get a cab. Have it take her to the wrong part of town, maybe get into a fight. Feel someone’s bones crunch under her knuckles, pretend it’s her own face. It’s all her fault after all. Should have trusted her instincts, should have made her stay out of it. Should have been quicker, should have had a firmer grip. Flash of green and the sound of breaking glass, right there in the back of her eyes. Nearer is better. Just need to get another drink. Need to make it all disappear, stop feeling the skinsuit slipping out of her fingers. Stop seeing her face (oh god she’ll never see her face again, never hold it in her hands, never see her crooked smile). Tequila, she needs more tequila.

Her braid is a sad and tattered thing in her hands. Jagged edges where she’d had to fight to get the knife through the thickness. She shakes her head and it feel light, her hair swinging around, wrong. It feels so wrong. Everything feels wrong now.

It still feels unreal. An empty coffin in a grave marked by a fake name, it can’t be real, it has to be some cruel joke.

The braid goes in the trash, she can’t look at it anymore. Can’t look at it without feeling Cyn’s ghostly hands. Always so careful and thorough (not anymore, they can’t do anything anymore), pulling loose strands back from her temple. It had been such a fragile thing at first. A closeness she hadn’t looked for. She could never have expected the way the touch of her hands would make her breath catch. Need more tequila. Have to keep the memories at bay.

The feeling of loss when the braid was finished and Cynthia stepped away. As if she knew the first thing about loss then (is that her laugh?)

She’d been such a coward. So afraid of pushing too hard, but she’d lost her anyway and it was her own fault. She’d lost her anyway and the words she never said burn in her stomach. Tequila. She wants to drown them (it won’t be enough) wants to drown herself.

Tequila. She’s no stranger to pain. She just needs (needed to tell her, will never get to now) more tequila.

tagging: @lord-king-saint, @roses-and-roo @lilyoffandoms @pearlsandsteel @kittlesandbugs and @bunny-loverxiv

#this hurt #it's about the slow building of intimacy #crossing those thresholds and then things are never the same #you are never the same #anyways I have lots of big feelings about chargestep #yes I know cyn is very soft #compared to a lot of other steps #but I love her okay #if: fhr #lovelieswrites #fhr ortega #ship: chargestep #ship: you’ll be her ruin #oc: Cynthia basri

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xbunnybunz · 3 years

Text

Sick Days [BEN Drowned x Reader]

Summary: When a creepypasta manages to crawl into your home through a computer, people usually scream and call the police. You? Well, it's just another normal day for you.

Genre: Fluff, Horror, Humor

Date: June 20, 2015

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You sat in your room with the expression of utter boredom painted on your features, your hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on the table next to your open laptop. You grunted as your computer went into hibernation mode again and tapped the spacebar to reawaken the screen. Your bedroom window was wide open, allowing the evening breeze to float into your adobe and gently rustle the papers on your table. Fading streaks of sunlight peeked through your fluttering curtains, caressing your body with soft warmth.

Despite the serene atmosphere that had settled into your semi-messy room, your features were soon twisted into a grimace. The fingers that had been trailing along the table began drumming a steady rhythm, growing quicker and more impatient by the second. You glanced at the clock for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, and read the blaring red numbers 6:23 PM. You scowled, annoyed. "Ugh, where is that little rascal?" You muttered, tapping your keyboard again and watching irefully as your homescreen popped up again. Ben usually arrived before sundown, but the sun was already halfway down the horizon. Ben probably would've taunted you for being so worked up over his absence, and you, being a little short tempered, would probably fall for his teasing and would have exploded into a mess of jumbled profanities. Though many would describe your actions now as "eager," you recalled how petrified you were when Ben first popped out of the fossilized desktop your dad insisted they brought when your family moved. That day, your mother and father had been visiting a sick relative in the hospital, and couldn't come home for the night. You, feeling free and a little daring, decided to stay up the entire night watching horror flicks in your livingroom. Although you felt the terror of eight marathoned horror movies shake you to your core, you persisted, jumping at every little noise from the movie and from your creaky home. That's why, when you witnessed the forgotten computer in the corner of the livingroom fizz and flicker on and off, you froze in unfathomable fear, merely staring as a deathly pale hand clawed it's way out of a jumble of binary code and pixels. By the time a head of tousled white hair and pitch black eyes with crimson irises emerged from the screen, you were already halfway out the door, knowing better than to trap yourself in your own bedroom. You would've spent the night at a neighbor's house, but your closest neighbor must have been at least a mile away- being that your family decided to move into the suburbs. Unfortunately for you, who was secluded in the pitch black of the night with god-knows-what in your house, it was pouring outside. In your mad scramble for salvation, you had not grabbed the keys to your house. You had originally settled for the plan to stay in the freezing rain, (it was definitely a safer bet than being in the house) but alas, the hours spent watching scary movies finally took its toll on you, and had made you paranoid to every small rustle and crunch. (In truth, it was just the trees.) This terror had driven you to crawl up some old growths of ivy on the side of your home, feeling blessed to find your bedroom window open just a crack- allowing you to pry the rest of the window open. Halfway through your window, you looked up- only to become blatantly horrified. There the white-haired boy was, floating in the middle of the room with bleeding eyesockets- as if he had been waiting for your arrival. Overcome with panic and surprise, you allowed the wet soles of your feet slip out from under you, sending your drenched body sailing face-first towards the hardwood floor of your bedroom. Your nose took the brunt of the fall, and erupted in a mess of blood upon impact. The pain of a shattered nose did little to deter you from the thing in your room. Holding your nose with both hands, you scrambled to press yourself against the wall- as far away from that demon-ghost-thing as possible. But when you looked back up, you were shocked to find it trying desperately to hold back laughter, it's eye twitching from the effort. The corner of it's mouth was twitching toward a smirk, and it's eyes were betraying it's stoic expression- it wanted to laugh at you! You shot to your feet, prepared to duke it out with the hovering monster- only to slip a second time on the rainwater that you had tracked into your room. This time, your head collided hard with the frame of your bed, and you blacked out. You woke up the next morning with a wrapped head and a bandaged nose. It turns out your parents had returned from their little trip and found you lying in a puddle of your own nosebleed- which sounds as humiliating as it felt- and had patched you up. After you told them about what you had seen, your parents merely laughed and gave you an affectionate pat on the head, claiming that the stress of moving and lack of sleep had to do with your "hallucinations." You would've believed them, if it wasn't for the fact that the boy showed up in your room again. You fell asleep while using your laptop and when you awoke, you found the pale-haired boy freeing his foot from your computer screen. Though you were sure that the white-haired monster returned to finish you off, you found him simply pointing his finger at your wrapped up face and cackling at you, tears budding in the gaping holes that were his eyes. You felt your face burn with embarrassment, and though you should have called for help, you simply sat there, allowing the strange being to laugh at your misfortune. After what felt like an eternity he retreated back into your computer, still snickering- leaving you bewildered and dazed. He later introduced himself as Ben Drowned over a cyberchat website named "Cleverbot," and you learned his story, as well as the fact that he could teleport just about anywhere that held an electronic device. Later that night, you awoke to a flooded room. With your heart pummeling with fear, you gasped and flailed for breath, desperately searching for a way out. You were less than pleased to find Ben on the screen on your open laptop- which was, for some reason, still working under water. His shoulders shook with muted laughter, doubling over with the hilarity he found in your pitiful predicament. As soon as it started, it was gone. The water that had once filled your room was gone, leaving everything unscathed in it's wake. Once you found mobility in your limbs again, you stormed to your laptop (which still contained the laughing freak) and took out the battery, taking away the laptop's source of life. You stormed about your house, rampaging in the middle of the night to turn off or unplug any source of electricity you could- the phones, the computers, televisions- even the dusty desktop. Despite the complaints of your confused parents, you were at peace. Since you had cut off any source of electricity, (other than the lights) that pesky elf hadn't bothered you- probably because he couldn't. However, your happiness was short-lived. Upon returning from school one day, you found that your parents had somehow reconnected everything before going to work- leaving you with two things: electricity, and an angry Ben. You had no idea how you did it, but you managed to convince Ben not to suck you into the netherworld or kill you- With minimal damage to the house. Before you placated him, Ben had flown into a livid tantrum, tossing tables and pictures to-and-fro with some unseen force, only ceasing when you promised that you would keep all electronics plugged in- thus allowing him to drop in any time he liked. Since then, the white haired boy with red irises visited routinely each day without intentions to scare you, though you were still unnerved by his presence at first. As if he sensed your uneasiness, Ben began to annoy you. Ceaselessly. Day after day, he knocked over decorative vases, messed up your room, taunted your occasional bad grades, and in all: irked the hell out of you. Yet here you were, waiting for his arrival like some kind of goddamned puppy. "What. Ever." You hissed through clenched teeth, standing up from your computer table, "Maybe he got bored of me. He's been visiting me for... God knows how long already...Good riddance." Despite your words, you felt a twinge of sadness prick your heart like a fine-tipped needle. Though he was undoubtedly aggravating most of the time, you had liked him company. Just a little. You sighed, the beams of twilight cast your shadow across the floor. "I should prepare some microwaveable dinner, my parents are working overtime today." As you sulked slowly towards your bedroom door, a loud crash and the sound of loud static pierced your eardrums, making you leap several feet into the air and scramble for the doorknob, storming downstairs to find the source of the noise. You were both annoyed and relieved to find Ben crawling out of the screen of the old desktop, though your annoyance went out the window once you spotted his shaking arms on the edge of the screen, as if he couldn't support his own weight. You extended a hand out to him, flinching as he finally managed to haul himself out of the mess of codes, landing in a heap on the floor. "Ben?" You inquired, peering at his crumpled form. "Are you okay...?" You knelt down next to him, touching his shoulder gently. "Ben?" At your voice, the creepypasta turned to look at you weakly before sniggering quietly- which worried you a bit. "What are you doing in my house?" You raised an eyebrow. "Ben, this is my house. Not yours." Ben, who had a pinkish hue to his pale cheeks, took a look around before the realization dawned upon him. "Oh, right. I'll be going then." You watched as the usually boisterous entity struggled to get back onto his feet, only to fall down again. This time, however, you caught him. Once his body made contact with your arms, you nearly shrieked. The back of his neck was burning hot, and the rest of his body was strangely warm- just like an overheated computer. "Ben-" You adjusted your hold on him, (he was a lot heavier than he looked) "Ben, are you sick?" Ben glared at you weakly. "No." You sighed, exasperated. His pride was going to be the death of him one day. You placed a gentle palm his forehead, cringing at the impossibly high temperature you felt. "Ben, you have a high fever. A bad one." The said person clicked his tongue and turned his face away, looking irritated. "That explains why I felt like shit the whole day." You couldn't help but snicker as you carried him to the couch, "That also explains why you didn't think of visiting me today." "Get off your high-fucking-horse, princess." Ben scowled, trying in vain to look threatening. "You should be thankful that I visit you everyday." You rolled your eyes, placing him softly on the couch. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for gracing me with your presence everyday, dumbass." You swore you heard Ben grumble something under his breath, but you were already too far up the stairs to hear. You returned with several pillows, a thermometer and some pills from the bathroom cabinet, determined to nurse Ben back to health. Though he was an annoying turd most of the time, there were rare moments where he comforted you in times of need- though most of the time, his offers to help just involved murdering someone, which you kindly refused. ("Killing people isn't the solution to everything, you freaking moron!") Now, it was your turn to help him. With an abundance of pillows in your arms, you urged him to sit up for a second (which he did with an anguished groan) and slipped four or five behind him, ensuring his comfort. You went into the kitchen and returned with a damp cloth and a glass of water to drink with the medicine. To be honest, you weren't quite sure if human medicine worked on creepypasta such as Ben, but it was all you had. "Ben, come on, you need to take some medicine." He scoffed at you. "Get your Earth pills away from me. You know just as well as I do that those won't work for me." You knelt next to him on the floor next to the couch and uncapped the bottle, shaking two pills out of the container and nudging him up. "You're right. I don't know if it'll work, but it's the only thing I have, so just suck it up and take them." "Get away from me." He hissed. "Ben..." You said, your tone threatening, "Don't make me unplug everything again." At this, Ben's hollow eyes narrowed, the red specks of light in them piercing into your skull. "You wouldn't dare." You gulped, feeling a cold sweat accumulate at his intense gaze. You steeled yourself and glared right back at him. "Try me." Grudgingly, Ben accepted the pills and sat up. Before you could stop him, he threw the pills in his mouth and began to chew. You froze, holding the cup of water in your hand and staring at him with wide eyes. You had made the same mistake of chewing those pills when you were younger, prior to figuring out that you could use water to wash them down. To be frank, those pills could cause more damage than a fever if not taken with water- they were horrendously bitter, and nearly caused you to puke. Just as you thought, Ben gradually stopped chewing, turning even paler than he already was- if possible. Though his face showed no emotion, you could almost feel the bloodthirsty aura that washed off of him, obviously not too pleased with the taste. You wasted no time in shoving the glass of water in his hands, urging him to drink. The water was gone before you could even blink, and Ben held the front of your shirt with an intent of death in his eyes. "You-" He stuttered, his face tinted red from anger, "You-" You braced yourself for whatever might come, but surprisingly, the grip on your shirt loosened, and Ben flopped back down unceremoniously, letting the pillows swallow his lean body. "Oh, whatever... Why would humans invent something so horrible to heal a sickness? If anything, that just made me sicker..." You smiled nervously, feeling the slightest bit guilty. "Er, it's my fault... I should have told you about the water sooner..." Ben scowled faintly. "Damn right you should've." You whispered a low "sorry" before wringing the wet towel, placing the cool cloth on Ben's head. This pulled a sigh of satisfaction from his lips, his eyes fluttering closed with contentment. You uncapped the thermometer, clicking the "ON" switch before turning back to Ben. "One last thing before you rest, Ben. I need your temperature." Ben didn't even bother to open his eyes or complain- which surprised you. Without hesitation, he simply opened his mouth. You found yourself smiling endearingly at his actions: it was like handling a stubborn child- all you had to do was get past his hard shell. Taking Ben's temperature was a little bit of a struggle, since the digital screen glitched and spazzed out once it made contact with him. However, once you had taken his temperature, your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. The little pixels, occasionally glitching, read "105.7° F. " After discovering this little fact, you urged him to sleep for a bit- feeling a bit panicked. After the third time of telling him to just relax and sleep, Ben snapped at you. "If you tell me to go to sleep one more time, I'll call Jeff up here and tell him to put you to sleep." Though you knew this was an empty threat, it still shut you up. You had heard a lot about Jeff the Killer, and though some of your friends were obsessed with him, you weren't too keen on meeting him. After turning on the fan in hopes to cool Ben down, you settled back next to him on the floor, watching his uneven breathing. After a few moments of staring, Ben's eyes snapped open, feebly glaring at you before it turned into a smirk. "Sweetheart, I know i'm good looking- but if you're gonna stare, at least do something that can excuse you from it." You blinked and furrowed your brows, feeling embarrassed but relieved. It sounded like he was feeling a bit better- but was that really a good thing for you? Silently, you lifted a hand and began combing it through his silvery hair, knocking his hat astray. However, Ben didn't seem to mind. In fact, he completely ignored his hat and turned away from you, as if he were hiding his face. Despite his best efforts, you spotted a pinkish tint on his cheeks that extended to his ears- and you were sure it wasn't because of the fever he had. You watched him with soft eyes and continued your small ministrations, wondering how he had gotten sick in the first place. Before long, Ben had fallen asleep to your touch and the low hum of the fan. Sighing breathily, you gave the sleeping boy a thoughtful look. You didn't understand why he had kept the routine of visiting you everyday, but you weren't about to complain. Moving was no easy task, it included making new friends and leaving the old ones behind. Your socializing skills weren't your strongest suit, and although you tried your best, it was difficult to keep a conversation with someone at school- you feared their judgement. Though you knew most of the people at school didn't mean any harm to you, it was still a little scary for you to be cast out into a new environment so suddenly, it made you feel vulnerable. And although Ben had scared the pants off of you at first, you slowly began to realize that your arguments and chats with him didn't make you tense or anxious. Perhaps you could even go as far as to say he made you the slightest bit happy. You continued to play with his hair for a little while before removing your hands, observing him carefully. It was true that Ben was relatively handsome, though you would rather die than admit that to him. His white hair and pale complexion gave him the look of a hauntingly beautiful angel, though his eyes were dark and devilish, always seeming to hold only the most malicious of intentions. While he was awake, his countenance was usually twisted into a smirk or a sneer- which didn't exactly make him more attractive, but definitely did not take away from it, either. However, as he was asleep, you couldn't help but notice how strikingly bewitching he looked without the usual grimace. His long, white eyelashes brushed against his cheekbones, colored pale pink with his fever. Though you hadn't noticed it previously, it was almost unnerving how captivating Ben was. With his sleek, graceful features relaxed, you almost wouldn't have been able to guess that he was such a cunning gremlin while he was awake. You couldn't stop your eyes from wandering to his lips, which were slightly parted with his steady inhales and exhales. Just like the rest of his body, his lips were deathly pale, and slightly chapped- though they still looked inviting. You blushed and averted your eyes upon realizing how inappropriate your thoughts were. Ben was horribly sick and helpless, yet here you were, daydreaming about... A kiss... You covered your face, feeling humiliation wash over you in waves. Ben would probably laugh himself to death if he knew what you were thinking. The mere thought of being with Ben was impractical within itself, since there was no way monsters like him were even capable of feelings, right...? Your train of thought was halted when you heard the silverette groan lowly from across you. You peered out from your hands with questioning eyes, wondering if you had woken him up with the intensity of your staring. (Was that even possible, though?) He wasn't awake. His eyes were still sealed shut, but his mouth was twitching, as if he were trying to say something. You leaned in closer, watching attentively. Did he want water? A colder towel? More pillows? Suddenly, much to your shock, your name erupted from his lips, sounding like a cross between a groan of irritation and a plea. Then, he was silent again. You felt a warmness in your body emitting from the center of your stomach, and before long, you found yourself smiling at Ben. He was asleep, so it wouldn't hurt too much, right...? Slowly, you leaned forward and brushed back some of his soft locks, marveling at how pretty his face was. With such a small distance between you two, you could smell his scent- a distinct smell of static and coconut. Gently, you pressed your lips to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his soft, feverish skin on your own mouth. As you pulled away, you found a hand on the back of your head, pulling you back in. Wide eyes registered as Ben tilted his head, and his lips met yours, watching your bewildered expression with groggy, half-lidded eyes before he closed them, pressing his lips harder against your own. His mouth was burning hot, no doubt it was because of the fever, but it made the kiss even harder to resist. With flushed cheeks, you allowed your eyes to slip shut as well, returning the gentle pressure lightly. You noted that Ben was being unusually careful as he cupped your face, as if you were made of fragile glass that would shatter at any moment. You smiled at this, and brushed the side of his cheek with the back of your hand endearingly. He pulled away and you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could get a word in, his lips descended upon yours again, his tongue sweeping over your already open lips and tickling the roof of your mouth. You squeaked a bit at this, and he pulled back, his hand still on your cheek, opening his eyes to take in your reddened face and light panting. And then you saw it. It surprised you more than the kiss did- and perhaps more than his first appearance did. Ben smiled. It was a genuine smile, albeit small, unlike the smirks and half-grins he gave you all the time. This time, his lips curled naturally, softening his scarlet eyes a twinge. The hues of twilight poured in from the window and washed over both of you, bathing both of you in a beautiful gradient of a fading pink, yellow and orange. You should have scolded him for kissing you while he was sick, but you couldn't find the heart to ruin the mood. Instead, you smiled back at him, leaning into the hand that remained on your cheek. There, in the wake of the lingering sun, you discovered that what once was your greatest fear was also your greatest treasure.

#creepypasta #ben drowned #legend of zelda #fanfiction #reader insert #ben drowned x reader #old work

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sincerelyella · 3 years

Text

It’s Your Love - happy birthday Burnsy!

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairings: Drake x OC (Alyssa); Liam x MC (Ella)

Song Inspiration: It’s Your Love by Tim McGraw & Faith Hill

Characters belong to Pixelberry; OC Alyssa Devereaux belongs to my sister @burnsoslow; Ella Brooks belongs to me.

Summary: The gang coordinates a surprise for Alyssa’s birthday.

A/N: It’s my Burnsy’s birthday and I’m sure everything I’m going to say she already knows! Firstly, I’m so sorry I changed my mind about which AU and which song for this fic like 47545024 million trillion times. Burns just freaking gets me mmkay? She’s my nakie twin, my soul sister, my football bestie and my biggest cheerleader. GUYS! Idk how I could have gotten through this year without her checking in on me, our football conversations or her amazing (and haaawwwwt) fics. Some dialogue in this fic, btw, was taken from a conversation we really had (and as usual, she is hilarious).

Burns, you know that I love you a BUTT TON and I will fight ANYBODY for you (where’s my vaseline?!) Thank you for always being in my corner, for giving me SEVERAL pep talks this year (because I’m dramatic), for believing in me when I sometimes didn’t believe in myself, and for loving me SO HARD. I really hope you have an amazing day and you enjoy your bday dessert and that you like this little fic.

-> please note, this is a rereblog and I am adding this fic to my ML. Today is not actually our sweet Burnsy’s birthday even though we would all like it to be lol

A/N2: This is set in The Loft AU by the way! Check it out here if you haven’t seen these guys’ shenanigans.

Warnings: Adult language, sexual innuendos, and major fluff guys!! The birthday girl wanted to be swooned and I will do my damndest to give her whatever she wants today.

Thank you so much @alyssalauren for letting me vent and letting me harass you with my whining … and listening to me change my mind about this for WEEKS - and also prereading for me along with @ofpixelsandscribbles. I love you guys so much!

Words: 3149 (oops)

Alyssa was not feeling well. The more she coughed, the more she felt like death. “Oh, God, I feel like my brain is going to explode into itty bitty pieces,” she moaned with her arm draped over her face.

Drake bit his lip in an effort to stop a chuckle. She’s so fucking cute, and whiny. But cute. “Baby, it’s just a cold, you’ll be fine.” He slid onto their large king-sized bed and began to rub her lower back.

“It’s not! It’s the plague! Those kids at school don’t cover their mouths and sneeze up into the air! Like, I can see particles of their spit, just wafting,” she complained as she waved her hand in the air, mimicking the particles. “I bet you it landed on me or I inhaled that shit and now, look at me!” Her cute nose was reddened slightly from blowing out copious amounts of snot. She was seriously thinking about shoving some tissue in each nostril just to make sure nothing dripped.

Drake moved his hands upward and massaged her shoulders gently. “I can make you some soup,” he nibbled on her earlobe. “And make you feel … relaxed.”

“Mmmm,” she shivered at his words and sniffled. “Yes, baby, make me feel relaxed!”

A little while later

After Drake’s impressive two hour session of making Alyssa feel better, loud knocks sounded at their bedroom door.

“Lyssa!” Ella bellowed. “Lyss, you’re not answering my phone calls! Are you dead?!”

“No,” she croaked from the bed and stifled a laugh when Drake tripped trying to put on his boxers. “I was just getting my back blown out by my hot boyfriend.”

“Ew, TMI! Okay, are you covered up? I’m coming in!”

“No!” Drake yelled as he hurriedly threw on his pants. “Do not come in here, Brooks! I’m fucking naked!”

“Like I haven’t seen a naked man before,” Ella pushed open the door and rolled her eyes at Drake. “You aren’t even naked, Walker, get a grip.”

“No damn privacy around here,” he grumbled as he looked for a shirt in the closet.

“Hi!” Alyssa called out hoarsely from the bed as she tucked her comforter around her naked body. “I didn’t go to work today, I felt like death was coming for me.”

“I could hear you coughing from the kitchen. So, your blood pressure and that gnarly cough you have are what’s concerning me.”

“Yeah,” Lyss frowned and sniffed. “The cough is rough.”

“And gunky huh? Are you spitting up weird colored stuff?”

“No, it's clear and phlegmy!”

Ella narrowed her eyes on her best friend. “Lyss, did you take your blood pressure today?”

“I … umm no, I don’t like the machine.”

Ella let out a sigh. “You have to babe!”

Lyss’s bottom lip quivered. “I get scared my arm will explode.”

“Lyssa.”

The lip quiver always works with Drake. “… yes?”

“Your arm won’t explode.”

“If it malfunctions it could!”

Ella rubbed her hands over her face. “Alyssa!”

“In one of the Halloween movies, Michael Myers killed someone in the hospital by putting a BP cuff around their neck and pumping it until their head exploded!”

“What the fuck? Okay, no more Halloween movies for you!”

“But-”

“It’s not going to explode, Alyssa. You need to take your blood pressure. Do I have to hogtie you?”

“No ma’am, I’m taller than you!”

“By ½ an inch!”

Ella switched tactics. “If you don’t do this, I’m going to get Drake on you.”

Lyss giggled. “That’s hardly a punishment.”

Ella’s eye twitched and Alyssa held back a laugh.

After another 10 minutes, Alyssa finally agreed to only check her blood pressure if Ella did it for her and Drake had to hold her hand. Once the numbers were acceptable to Ella, Alyssa added to her terms. “Also, I want chicken noodle soup and those little soup crackers” - she sniffled - “and coffee.”

“Why not tea? That’s better I think,” Ella brushed some hair off of her best friend’s forehead.

“Coffee.”

“Cream isn’t a good idea for-”

Drake gave Ella a look.

“I mean … sure!”

“I’ll get started on that, baby,” Drake leaned over to kiss his girlfriend on top of her head. “Be right back.”

Ella waited until he closed the bedroom door behind him. “Lyssa.”

“Hmm?” She was already settled into the fluffy pillow and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Do you have a fever?” Not waiting for an answer, Ella leaned forward and felt Alyssa’s forehead with the back of her hand.

“Nu-uh,” Lyss mumbled and coughed.

“Lyss?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you want to put on some clothes?”

“Mmm, nope, I’m good naked.”

Ella chuckled. “Okay.”

She stood and left Lyss alone to rest. Ella wandered into the kitchen to find Liam and Drake as they stared into a large pot of broth.

“Is she asleep?” Drake asked while he stirred.

“Yep, she’s passed out,” Ella peered into the pot. “You need to add more onions.”

Drake tasted the broth again and shrugged. “Okay, more onions it is.”

Liam handed Drake the bowl of green onions. “So, what do you have planned for her birthday? Are you proposing yet?”

“I had planned to take her to the park and have a picnic,” Drake paused as he tasted the broth again from the ladle. “But seeing as how she’s not wanting to leave the bedroom, I might have to rethink my plan.”

“Hmmm,” Liam tapped his fingers over his mouth. “Why don’t you just have a picnic in the bedroom with her?”

“I guess,” Drake frowned. “That’s not very romantic.”

“You’re trying to be romantic, Walker?” Leo said as he walked into the kitchen with Maxwell with several bags from Nordstrom.

“Yeah, I am, if you must know.”

“I can help you out!” Leo’s wide grin made Drake narrow his eyes.

“What’s in it for you, Rys?”

“Oh, I just love helping my friends! Let me put all my stuff down in the bedroom, I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Leo was out of earshot, Drake hissed. “I don’t trust him!”

“I know,” Max replied. “It’s Leo we’re talking about. After he saw the movie Titanic he started the Billy Zane fan club.”

Ella stopped washing the dishes in the sink and turned. “Wait, what?!”

“Yeah,” Liam added. “Look it up, they’re called the Zaniacs.”

“Why does that make me angrier than anything he’s ever done?!”

Liam shrugged. “He also roots for Billy Zabka’s character in The Karate Kid.”

“Alright, guys! It’s romance time!” Leo announced as he came back to the kitchen.

Three days later

Leo, Maxwell, and Liam were busy setting up things for Drake and Alyssa’s outing at the beach.

“Why is Ella not helping us?” Maxwell huffed as he and Leo carried large boxes of twinkling lights.

“She’s here for Lyss, and to make sure Walker doesn’t sweat too much and get dehydrated,” Leo laughed as all three looked at Drake in the kitchen pacing back and forth.

“Fuck you guys,” his chocolate brown hair a mess after running his fingers through them more times than he can count. “I’m just … nervous.”

“Yeah, we can see that,“ Leo cackled as they walked out into the hallway and waited for the elevator.

“It’s going to work,” Liam reassured his best friend as he grabbed the guitar by the door and followed Max and Leo out.

“Drake, it’s going to be fine,” Ella put her hands on his shoulders to stop him from wandering around the kitchen; it was making her dizzy. “Liam is the King of Romance. Don’t listen to Leo, Alyssa is going to say yes.”

“How do you know that?” He began to babble and couldn’t stop himself. “What if this is too soon? What if she hates my singing? What if she says no?”

“You should be worried about whether she’ll get out of bed,” Ella looked towards the bedroom door.

“Oh my God, is she still in bed?!” He inhaled too quickly and began to cough.

“Okay, Walker, I was kidding. You know she adores you. She said ‘I love you’ first for crying out loud,” she gave him a concerned look. “Are you getting sick?”

“No, I don’t … get sick,” he sputtered as he continued to cough.

“Well you are pretty delicate, maybe you should slow down.”

He waved off her comment as his coughs began to dissipate. “I’m not delicate, I’m just” - he lowered his voice to a whisper yell - “proposing to my girlfriend and I don’t even know if she’s going to like this damn plan!”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Okay, so let’s just forget that you got sick watching Frozen.”

Drake glared. “No. I did not.”

“You also got a nosebleed watching Up,” she smirked.

“Oh my God, will you ever let that go?!”

Ella let out a chuckle. “Okay, fine then, why don’t you go and take a shower?”

“I already did,” Drake looked down at his sweat-stained shirt.

“Yeah, why don’t you go and take another one.”

He nodded. “Be right back.”

30 minutes later

“El! I need help!”

“Lyssa? What’s wrong?” Ella let herself into the bedroom Alyssa and Drake shared.

“My sinuses hurt and I dropped my dress and my book on the floor.”

“Okay?”

“Can you pick it up for me? It hurts to bend over.”

Ella hid a smile and bent to pick up Alyssa’s black dress and her book titled Remember Two Things. “I’ve been meaning to read this, how is it so far?”

“Oh it is so good,” Lyss put the book on her nightstand and pulled the dress over her head. “I’m at chapter 18 and these two have been in love since college-”

“No spoilers! I’m going to read it after you,” Ella found Lyss’ shoes under the bed and helped her put them on. “You take that medication I gave you?”

“The pill was too big.”

“Alyssa!”

“I’m kidding, yes, I took it,” she dimpled. “It was a gel capsule.”

Ella let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. You don’t need your sinuses to act up while you’re out.”

“Where is he taking me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Alyssa pouted. “No, I don’t.”

Drake appeared in the doorway with a brand new shirt that was miraculously dry. “Ready baby?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” she stood and wrapped her arms around her best friend. “Thank you for helping me!”

Ella shooed the couple out the door and quickly called Liam to let them know they were on their way.

***

“Baby, why did you take another shower?” Alyssa eyed Drake’s damp hair.

“I … slipped in something Max spilled on the floor in the kitchen.” Fuck, I suck at lying.

“Oh,” Lyss chewed on her bottom lip and studied Drake’s side profile as he drove his truck through the streets of Los Angeles. “I was thinking … you’ve taken such good care of me while I’ve been whiny and sick and I wanted to thank you.”

“Of course, I care about you.”

“I love you, baby, I feel like we’re so good together.”

“We are, Lyss, I love you too,” he reached over and intertwined his fingers with hers.

Drake slowly pulled the truck into a parking spot and turned off the engine. “Come on, I have something I want to show you.”

Alyssa nodded. She hopped out of the car and took Drake’s outstretched hand as he led her into a walkway with arching shrubs above them. “What is this place?”

“It used to be a secret spot I went to when I was single,” he glanced down at her while she stared up at the greenery in awe. “I would just come down here to be alone.”

Suddenly, the archway lit up in thousands of little twinkling lights that illuminated their way down to the end of the walkway. “Oh my God,” Alyssa squealed. “I love this so much, it’s beautiful!” They came to the end of the lights and began to walk onto sand.

“Only a little bit further,” Drake mumbled as he took in the ocean, then focused his gaze on the large purple blanket that was sprawled out on the sand a few yards in front of them.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a little picnic the guys set up for us,” he gave Alyssa a nervous smile. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes! What’s for dinner?”

“Taco pizza and for dessert,” Drake excitedly climbed onto the blanket after removing his shoes. “S’mores brownie pie.”

“S’mores?!” Alyssa peeked into the large basket that held the pie. “Can we eat dessert first?”

Drake let out a loud laugh. “Whatever you want, baby it’s your birthday.”

Lyss opened the box where the taco pizza sat and she inhaled deeply. “Oh, no, we’re eating this first.” She grabbed a plate and separated two pieces, one for her, one for Drake.

“Thank you.”

They settled into a comfortable silence as they watched the waves cascade over the sand; the sun was slowly fading, disappearing behind the ocean, leaving its yellow-orange coloring over the blue hue of the water. Alyssa was sitting in between Drake’s legs, her back against his chest.

“This hit the spot,” she patted her stomach. “Taco pizza just like in Remember Two Things.”

“That’s where I got the idea from,” he kissed her on top of her head. “You told me how taco pizza sounded amazing and I had to get that for you.”

“You are amazing,” she leaned her head back and touched her lips to his. “Is that a guitar? Why didn’t I notice that before?”

Drake’s face turned a bright shade of red. “Uh, yeah, I had Liam bring his guitar out here.”

“Do you” - she pulled away from him and turned all the way around with widened eyes - “do you play guitar, baby?”

He nervously scratched the back of his neck. “I … Well, sort of. Liam taught me when we were teenagers.”

“That is so hot,” Lyss mumbled and she bit her bottom lip. “Will you play for me?”

Drake nodded. “Hopefully I’m not too rusty, it’s been years.”

“I know I will love it.”

Drake picked up the acoustic guitar behind him and began to tune it. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he went through each string and turned the knobs in turn. Alyssa watched as he dug into his jean pocket and pulled out a guitar pick. How is a man with a guitar so sexy?

“Here goes nothing.”

He strummed the guitar and smiled when it didn’t sound off-key. He took in a deep breath and began to sing.

Dancing in the dark, Middle of the night

Taking your heart, And holding it tight

Emotional touch, Touching my skin

And askin' you to do, What you've been doing

All over again

Alyssa was taken aback. She had no idea he played guitar or sang a note until today. Drake Walker singing country music just did something to her; not to mention the fact that she loved this song.

Oh, it's a beautiful thing, Don't think I can keep it all in

I just gotta let you know, What it is that won't let me go

She couldn’t stop herself, she started to sing along with him. It was a duet anyway.

It's your love, It just does something to me

It sends a shock right through me, I can't get enough

And if you wonder, About the spell I'm under

Oh it's your love

Their eyes were locked as they sang together. Alyssa harmonizing with him made his stomach do flip flops. He was a nervous wreck just thinking about singing and playing this damn guitar in front of her. But once she started to sing, he wanted to stop so he could hear her angelic voice instead of his rough one.

“Drake?”

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize I stopped.”

“That was so beautiful,” Lyss’ eyes were full of unshed tears. “I had no idea you could sing, baby.”

“I’m sorry I stopped, I wanted to hear your voice instead of mine.”

“Come on, let’s keep going!”

“I … I wanted to ask you something first.”

“Okay, what’s up?”

He set the guitar down on the blanket next to him and reached into his other pocket. “Lyssa,” he pulled out a black velvet box but didn’t open his hand just yet. “I wanted to make your birthday special, and I was so fucking nervous because I didn’t know if you’d like all this.”

“Anything we do together I love, baby,” she grasped his free hand with both of hers. “Don’t ever think I won’t like something you plan for us.”

Drake nodded. “I love you and I chose that song because it’s your love that keeps me wanting to wake up every morning,” he opened his left hand and she saw the box in his hand.

“Is that …”

“Alyssa Devereaux,” Drake opened the ring box and there sat three round diamonds on a gold setting. “Will you marry me?”

The tears were falling and one hand was clamped over her mouth in shock. She was crying so hard and overwhelmed with so much emotion that she struggled to speak. “Y-yes, Drake, yes!”

Drake’s entire face lit up at her words; he slid the ring on her finger and leaned over to kiss her. “Do you have any idea how happy you’ve made me?”

Cheers erupted from behind some bushes behind them, and the couple turned in surprise. Leo, Maxwell, Liam, and Ella jumped out, all with their phone cameras pointed in Drake and Lyss’s direction.

Drake scowled. “What the fuck?”

“Guys!” Alyssa jumped up and waved her left hand in the air. “We’re engaged!” Ella pulled her in for a big hug and the two of them began jumping up and down.

“Nice going, Walker,” Leo smirked as he shoved the last piece of taco pizza in his mouth. “You still sing real pretty too, just like in middle school.”

“Fuck off, Rys,” Drake snarled.

“You did good, brother,” Liam stepped forward and pulled his best friend in for a manly hug.

Drake gave him a half-smile. “Thanks for setting this up, and for all your help, Li. I know Twiddle-Dumb and Twiddle-Dee didn’t help much.”

Liam shrugged. “They picked up your pizza and pie. Got one for themselves while we were waiting for you to pop the question.”

“Taco pizza is the bomb,” Maxwell announced with a mouth full of food. “You guys are engaged! When’s the wedding?!”

“We’re still on cloud nine from being engaged, Max,” Alyssa chuckled. “We’ll all plan it out when we’re ready.”

“All of them?” Drake asked incredulously as the gang began to clean up the picnic area. “All of them are helping us plan?”

“You’re stuck with us forever, gorgeous,” Leo called out to Lyss. “You sure that’s what you want?”

Alyssa looked over at her fiancé, who just so happened to look at her. “I am so sure.”

#It's Your Love #a Burnsy birthday fic #via The Loft gang #oh no my hole #all the holes #they totally coke canned it #hey soul sister #my nakie twin's bday fic #nakie twins #trr fanfic #trr fandom #choices trr #trr #choices the royal romance #choices trr au #Drake x Alyssa #Liam x Ella

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amenomiko · 4 years

Text

Thank you for the request @crossmix! But just a note, I make some scenes that she is sick and others as injured, as I have no idea on what light sickness could be picked for this scenario 🤣. Hope you like it!

Paranoid Warlords x Sick MC

Nobunaga - Slight Cold

MC: Ah- haa- haa- HAACHEW OAO!!

Nobunaga: *Jumped from it and smudge the scroll with the ink brush in his hand* ...This is why I told you not to continue with your seamstress works.

MC: I'm fine~ I'm fine~ I have more.. Like.. 5 more to make. Eheheehehehe

Nobunaga: ......

*5 minutes later*

MC: *Is cradled with thick blankets all over her + tied to futon* GAHHH LET GO OF ME OAO!!

Nobunaga: Now let me do the sewing for you.

MC: NOOOOOOOO 😱😱😱😱😱😱!!!!

-----

Hideyoshi - Stomachache

MC: Hmnn--

Hideyoshi: MC? Are you alright?

MC: Ahh.. I'm good. I just.. feel very uncomfortable in my stomach, I guess it's indigestion--

Hideyoshi: Is it poison?? But I'm sure everyone was fine when we ate breakfast this morning--

MC: Or maybe is that time of the month? It's hurting lately--

Hideyoshi: *Too panicked until her words were twisted* Time of the mont- are you- are you pregnant 😱😱😱😱😱???

----

Masamune - Cut Finger

Masamune: *Shocked to see his pregnant wife cooking in the kitchen* Lass- just what do you think you are doing?

MC: Uhm.. Cooking?

Masamune: What is that in your hand?

MC: Uhm.. Vegetable and knife?

Masamune: That's it. Knife. Don't do dangerous things while you are pregnant..!

MC: Gosh why did you sound like Hideyoshi? I'm fine, this is noth- *cut her finger* Ahh..! Ow- ow-

Masamune: *LE GASP* See?? This is why I told you not to do this, what if you are having a blood loss from it and it effects our first baby??

MC: Heavens-- Just what have you been reading from Sasuke's book that he lend you- *saw a book titled "How to be a Dad for dummies"* (눈‸눈).....

----

Mitsuhide - Sneezing *modern au*

MC: Aaah I should cook for dinner. Hmm.. Maybe I can take my time slowly today since he will be back late. *takes phone and dials Mitsuhide's number*

Mitsuhide: *Picks up* My, my. What a rare occassion for you to call me. Did my little mouse already missing her husband?

MC: Pssh. I'm just checking up on you. I know you will be home late but have you eaten? *Places the phone in between her ear and shoulder as she tried to open the tight curry packet*

Mitsuhide: Don't worry about me, how about you? Don't eat too late as you may get sick easily in this rainy season if you didn't stay warm.

MC: Oh please-- *accidentally ripped open the curry packet and some of the powder sticks on her nose* Kyaa- aaah- aaah- HAACHIUUU >3<!!! *sniffs* God that surprise me--.. Ah, sorry, Honey, I was opening the curry packet and it--

*beep* *beep* *beep*

MC: O.O Honey? Hello? Hmm.. The connection is bad I guess-

*ding dong*

MC: Hm? Who might that be? *Opens the door* Ye--

Mitsuhide: *Drenched all over from massive running + rain* ʕʘ̅͜ʘ̅ʔ...

MC: (　☉д⊙) Honey?? But just now- you- ehh? *Lifted up* EH HONEY- MITSUHIDE- WHAT??

Mitsuhide: You are sneezing. Let's get you to the hospital.

MC: I'm not! It's the curry packet- hey- LET ME GO OAO

----

Ieyasu - Low Blood Pressure

MC: I'm home..

Ieyasu: Welcome home-..what's wrong?

MC: Hm? Oh-- it was my low blood pressure-- *bumped onto the sliding door* Oh, pardon me.

Ieyasu: ಠ_ಠ Come here.

MC: Ah, I'm good. This is nothing-- *bumped onto the medicine table* Ah I'm sorry I didn't see you there @w@

Ieyasu: ಠ_ಠ This is very severe.

*Later*

MC: *head filled with herbs leaves all over, left nothing but her eyes and nose* Uhm.. Ieyasu..? This is a bit--

Ieyasu: Be patient. Who will you apologize next, the tree?

MC: No what I mean is- this face mask herbs--

Ieyasu: ...and next you will apologize to one of the poles, thinking it was Lord Nobunaga, and apologize to him when you see him in council hall. Heavens-- *shivers* Need to prevent those before you become like that raw cabbage--

MC: I'm having low blood pressure and not drunk OAO EXCUSE YOU--

----

Mitsunari - Gastric

MC: *Hurls* Oh god-- *Runs to the nearby garden and vomit*

Mitsunari: MC..?? Are you alright??

MC: *Waves her hand* I'm good-- mmf..! *Vomits again*

Mitsunari: *Watches with a very worried face, almost close to crying* Think..! What could have cause this..? The tea? No, I made it perfectly..! *Looks at his overspill teapot* Yes, very perfect.

Mitsunari: Was it the mochi? But we ate it together and I was fine..! *Gasp* C-could it be-- *grabs the random book near him a.k.a "Signs of Pregnancy for Dummies"* Oh no-- oh no-..!

MC: Phew, that's much better. *Wipes her mouth* Mitsunari, don't worry, I was just having another fit of my gastri--

Mitsunari: *Holds MC's hands tight with a blushing face* MC! I'm sorry..! Really I am..! I was being a fool, a very, very idiotic fool that couldn't control my love for you, and make you miserable!!

MC: What- wait- what?? C-calm down, Mitsunari, what's wro-- *looks at the title of the book* ʕʘ̅͜ʘ̅ʔ *sigh*

Mitsunari: I will take responsibility >///A///<!!!

MC: I'M HAVING GASTRIC. GAS-TRIC (　☉д⊙)!! I'M NOT PREGNANT!

----

Kenshin - Nosebleed *modern au*

MC: Kenshin, it's time for bath (*´˘`*)♡. I've readied your towel in the bathroom so you may change there--

Kenshin: *Automatically undress his kimono, showing his abs off* Hn.

MC: *GASP* K-K-Kenshin--..! You may change in the bathroom-- Kya- *covers her face* Oh f-- don't nosebleed, don't nosebleed- don't-- *turns around and accidentally look at Kenshin's Jr. beneath his fudoshi* HOLY BUNNIES-- *spurt* (sound of nosebleed gushing out) HNGGGGG-

Kenshin: MC? What's wrong?

MC: N-N-NOTHING-- YOU SHOULD GET GOING NOW-

Kenshin: Why are you avoiding me? Did I do anything wrong?

MC: It wasn't like that!! J-just be quick!!

Kenshin: No, you are avoiding me. Something is indeed wrong. *Eyes widen* What's wrong?? Why are you bleeding??

MC: D-DON'T MIND ME!! JUST- KYAAAAA DON'T APPROACH ME FULLY NAKED LIKE THAT!!

Kenshin: Let me have a look at it! Who hurt you? Tell me..!

MC: GAHDAJAKSGSGDDF - *faint*

----

Shingen - Eyes Infection

Shingen: MC- Goddess..! Wait..!

MC: No..! Don't come here..!

Shingen: MC, please..! Tell me. Did I ever hurt you until you avoid me like this? Your eyes are swollen- have you been crying from my ignorance? MC- don't go away..!

MC: Shingen, please..! Calm down..!

Shingen: Did I flirt around you too much until you are bored from winking back and playing along with my teasings? Please, I will stop from now on, just.. Don't leave me like that.

MC: Aww Shingen.. I'm so sorry.

Shingen: MC QAQ💕💕

MC: But no means no. Don't come near.

Shingen: But why-..?? Goddess, I know I'm not worth to have your forgiveness but please explain to me--..!!

MC: Gad calm down already OAO

Shingen: I can't live without you..! MC--

MC: CALM DOWN FFS OAO It's an eye infection!! You may get infected as well if you come near me GAH ୧( ಠ Д ಠ )୨!!

----

Yukimura - Swollen forehead

Yukimura: What are you doing??

MC: Uhm.. Sewing?

Yukimura: I can see that VERY well. Just what do you think you are doing when you are sick?

MC: I'm not sick, Yukimura, just wounded slightly, that is all.

Yukimura: And where is it you are wounded? Do tell.

MC: Uhm forehead..?

Yukimura: Exactly! What will happen if you push yourself too much and the blood drains out from your injured forehead and you fainted??

MC: Gosh what kind of nonsense is that?? Relax..!

Yukimura: This is why I told you not to be rough like a wild boar. See? You even bumped on those sliding door like a boar until it breaks into half..!!

MC:...........Yuki. *Places hands on his shoulders and lean closer*

Yuki: What?

*BONK!!*

Yuki: OW- WHAT THE HELL YOU WILD BOAR-- *Blood gush out from his forehead* AAAH OAO

MC: HAH YOU DESERVE THAT OAO!

----

Sasuke - Heat stroke *modern au*

MC: It's really hot nowadays.. *sigh* don't worry about me, you may hang out with Yukimura or something maybe?

Sasuke: It's okay. I will stay.

MC: Are you sure? You are very stressed out from your constant lecture with your professor nowadays, and I don't want to add more trouble.

Sasuke: It's alright. Really. Now let me go and get you some ice.

MC: Alright. *Smiles as she watch Sasuke walk out from the room* Well.. Glad the stress didn't get to him and he handled this situation calmly. I don't want him to worry over me so much.

Sasuke: *Comes back* Here you go MC.

*POOF!*

MC: *Face is full with a HUGE TRASH-SIZED PLASTIC with ICE* .......He's not.

#ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku imagines #ikemen sengoku masamune #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku nobunaga #ikemen sengoku kenshin #ikemen sengoku mitsunari #ikemen sengoku shingen #ikemen sengoku yukimura #ikemen sengoku ieyasu #ikemen sengoku sasuke

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celosiaa · 4 years

Text

ungodly hour

For a prompt from @drmcbones: during s4, martin gets hurt in some non-institute-related incident, and jon accidentally Knows about it and races to help him. martin isn't exactly happy about this, but he doesn't have many other options....

CW: injury, mugging, blood, fainting

(Jon’s thoughts are formatted in italics. The Eye speaks in glitched text.)

Please enjoy!!

Jon pulls the threadbare blanket from where he’s folded it in the corner of his office, spreading it over the cot which has become his new bed. It’s a rare day that he leaves the archives anymore, not even to eat—and he’s not sure how much he really needs to do that, anyway. It doesn’t feel like much. In fact, it feels like nothing at all.

It’s all just hollow, now.

Outside the office door, he hears the padding of stocking feet, and knows that it’s Basira. She too has been staying in the archives more often than not, finding herself feeling more and more endangered each time she leaves this musty, miserable place. Though she does not say a word about it, Jon knows she’s angry with him—Knows it, really—and so avoids crossing her path wherever possible. She needs the space, and Jon is willing to give it to her.

It doesn’t mean it isn’t hard. Every time she passes by his door, which he keeps almost eternally closed now, the Eye pulls at him—teasing at his paranoia, promising him such a very tasty morsel, just one little bite and she’ll never have to know. He shoves down the thought violently each time, unwilling to invade the privacy of her thoughts, especially as she now seems to be his only friend.

If I can even call her that.

He tries not to think about it for as long as he can avoid it. The hurt runs too deep, too fragile to look at for long—the way he can’t even remember Sasha, Tim’s unforgiveness, Daisy’s vanishing, and now…now even Martin won’t speak to him.

Stop it stop it stop it stop it

Groaning softly in frustration, Jon buries his face in his hands, trying to focus on anything other than the near constant litany of MartinMartinMartin that he tries so very hard to keep from his mind. The force of his thoughts beats against his skull agonizingly, tempting him into Knowing how he is, where he is, what he’s doing with such incredible strength that he can hardly resist.

Aͤrͩ̽e̬͛̚ ͕̞ͭ̔y͈̎̐̑̆o͉̤̲ͬ͋ͩụ̼͕̺͎͂̈́ ̜̫̮ͪͨ̓ͫs̞̘̩͔͍̹̍͂u̝͍͑̽͊̐̿̃ȓ̯͖̈ͬͤ̔ͮͅe͓̳̳̱̩͙̋̃̂ ͎̱̼̠͎̟̺̥́ͧh̳̮̹͖̻̜̰͛͐̇e͇̲̪̽ͥ̓ͦ͑̒ͤ'̣̺̗̀̅̿̾̐̑̚s̩͉̱̻ͨͮ̃̓̓̚ ̣͔̦̈́͂ͦ̀̿̚ͅn̳̘͈̞̻̼̒̉̃ͦǒ̩̬̗̗͙̰ͣ͑t̗͔ͦ͒̔̓̊̃ͭ ̳̹͓͋̅ͩͦ͆̈i̻̳̲̰̜̾ͤͅn͈͍̣͍͓͋̓ ̻̥̉̋͛̔ͯd̩̰̜̝͕͆a̩͚̟ͭͅn̜͈̉ͬg̬ͬ̊̄e͖̫͍r͕̖?̈́

He’s fine, and he doesn’t need me. He’s fine.

O̰h͒ͬ,ͥͣ̌ ̫̈̍ͅi͚ͪ̈́̋s̫͚͖ͫͥ ̣̖͕̿͐t̼̱̯̿͛h̲̟͉̿ͣa̼̣ͮ̐t͇ͫ̅ͩ ͯͨ̚s͕̾o͛̃?̖

Y̅o͎̠ũ̚̚ ͎̻ͯ̈́o͇̙̭̝ͧu͎̰ͨ̒͗͆g̖͌͋̇̆̏ĥ̬̺̦̍̇ͫt̻̝̩̘ͨ͌̚ ̤̱̫̂ͪͨͨͣt̝̩̪ͯͥͮ͗̚o͍̲̞̱̓̍̍ͧ ̜͚͒̓͐ͩͯ͑h͓̞̥̫̓ͨ͛͂a͔̺̰͌̊̊͛̀v̟̫̳̥ͤ͊͋e͉͙̠͈̙̎̚ ̄̎̾̓̔ͅa̩̥ͤ̾̀̇ ̣͈̰ͩͅl̺͈̀͆ȯ͉̚ó̜͛k̐̄.̞

I won’t I won’t I won’t

His vision winks out in a blinding flash.

---

Fading slowly back in shades of grey, sight pulsing at the edges in time with his heart, his eyes land upon Martin—walking briskly down an empty London street, head bowed against the falling snow. Dim light from the lampposts illuminates his pale and drawn face, set in stark contrast with the deep bruises forming crescent moons beneath his eyes, darker than Jon has ever seen on him. If he didn’t Know better, he would think Martin were ill enough to be in bed.

Seething rage at the Lonely and at Lukas builds like static behind his skull.

God, look what it’s done to him.

Sick at heart, Jon tries to pull himself out of the vision, not wanting to risk Martin somehow noticing his presence, when someone stops him on the sidewalk to ask directions.

And three others creep up from the alleyway behind them.

Shit shit shit

Jon cries out a warning, stumbling forward toward him, voice falling soundlessly into the void of this space as he watches the scene unfold before him with horror. The three figures behind Martin jump him at once, their numbers easily overpowering his great height and pulling him into the alley from whence they came, his shouts of fear and pain echoing through Jon’s entire body.

Help him help him help him—

Jon desperately claws at the vision, at the Knowing, anything to break him out of it so he can run run run run—

---

He falls onto the floor from the cot, tile cold and harsh against his bare legs. Despite the pain of landing, his heart still pounds frantically in his ears, drawing him out the door as quick as he can scramble up—merely slipping on his loafers and bolting out into the snow in shorts and a thin hoodie. Without his brace, his knee screams at him to stop, but he can barely register it—so focused is he on reaching Martin, hoping against hope that his vision had been some sort of premonition rather than reality.

Please please please please

The sound of a commotion rises in volume as he approaches the street from the vision. Rounding the corner into the alleyway, his eyes fall upon the four figures he had previously seen, bending over a figure they’d knocked to the ground—

Static bursts from Jon’s mind, and he can feel the Eye opening above him, within him, around him.

G̩̼̉ọ̅ͧ,ͥ he demands simply, voice growling and deep, much deeper than could ever be his own.

At once, the figures drop the man they’d been holding by the collar, backing away from whatever monstrous form Jon had managed to take in absolute terror.

G̝̎ͧ͂Ő̺͗ͭ!ͣ

They begin to run, feet slipping on the ice-laden cobblestones, around the corner and out of sight. Feeling the Eye beginning to close, Jon senses himself lowering back to the ground, from where he had not realized he’d been hovering.

God, what must I look like right now?

He does not spend much effort trying to answer this question, as a low moan from the figure in front of him draws him back to the present.

Oh god, Martin.

Dashing over at once, Jon kneels in front of him, eyes sweeping quickly over his body—face covered in blood from where his nose is streaming, a nasty laceration at his hairline, clothes mussed and dirtied from where he’d likely taken some hits. His head rolls to one side on the cobblestones, brows pinched closely together as he moans in half-consciousness.

“Martin? Hey, Martin, can you hear me?” Jon asks desperately, trying to keep as calm as possible.

Even now, the sight of so much blood makes him shaky, especially blood that is not his own. He takes great care not to dizzily tip over when pulling off his hoodie, balling it up to press against the nasty cut on Martin’s forehead.

Christ, Jon, keep it together, he begs silently, as blood continues to pound in his ears, vision swimming sickeningly.

“J’n?”

Jon could nearly cry with relief at the sound, slurred and thick as it may be.

“Hey, there you are. Are you with me?’ he asks, the shakiness having crept into his voice as well.

“Wh’ are—” he pauses, coughing briefly and clutching at his ribs in response. “What are you doing here?”

“I—I came to help you. Saw it happening. A-accidentally.”

At this, Martin opens his eyes, offering Jon as contemptuous a half-lidded glare as he can manage in this state. Opening his mouth to reply, he gets no further than an inhale before the coughing resumes, choking on the nosebleed that must have spilled down the back of his throat.

“Oh Christ, here—”

As well as he can, Jon guides Martin up to sitting, leaning him back against the dingy wall of the alleyway as Martin bends double with damp coughing, blood spilling from between his lips. For his part, Jon feels as though he could faint at the sight, and he begins to see stars floating across his vision—but tries to focus his efforts on keeping pressure on the head wound.

“S’rry,” Martin mutters, eyes drifting closed as he leans a bit into Jon’s touch.

“No no—you’ve got to stay awake, Martin,” Jon says, voice thin enough to break.

“M’awake,” he replies as Jon pulls the sleeve of his hoodie from where he’s balled it up against Martin’s head, sweeping it down across his still-bleeding nose and split lip.

“Can you—can you tell me you name?” he asks, not liking the way Martin’s head still lolls against his hands.

He opens his eyes a bit at this, squinting at Jon in confusion.

“But you know…oh. Martin Blackwood,” he replies dutifully, having figured out what Jon is trying to do.

“Do you know where you are?”

“Erm…an alleyway, it seems?”

“Can you tell me what day it is?”

Martin falls silent at this, eyes drifting back closed for a moment as he considers.

“I...I’ve sort of lost track,” he whispers, eyes remaining closed.

Not good.

Now that Jon has asked these questions, however, he does not know what to do now that Martin cannot answer one of them.

“A-alright. That—that’s alright, just give it a moment,” he soothes shakily, arguing with himself over whether to dial 999.

Martin suddenly tenses under his hands, eyes snapping open in panic.

“Oh god, you shouldn’t be here,” he whispers intensely, eyes shifting quickly to the left and right as he grabs Jon’s wrist, pulling the cloth from where it’s pressed his head.

Jon sputters for a moment, nearly losing his balance at the sudden motion.

“Wh—Martin, you—”

“No, you can’t—”

Martin sits forward at once, shifting his weight onto his feet as he attempts to stand.

“You can’t be here with me, I—"

His already ashen face goes stark white at the movement, eyes rolling back as he hits the ground again, the back of his head smacking against the brick of the building behind him.

“Christ! Martin!” Jon yelps, cupping a hand behind his head to feel for blood, the other gripping his upper arm.

“M’sorry,” Martin mutters again, eyes fluttering open after a moment, wincing as Jon’s fingers brush over a sore spot where his head had hit.

“Just—just lie back,” Jon soothes anxiously, reaching for his phone. “I’m going to call Basira.”

“No! No—please, Jon, I’ll be alright,” Martin begs, reaching out to grab Jon’s phone from him—giving a sharp, pained inhale as he goes—if possible—paler, clutching at his ribs in agony.

Oh god oh god oh god

“Martin? Where did they hit?” Jon asks, phone clattering to the pavement when Martin’s breaths begin to pick up speed.

He does not reply, merely squeezing his eyes shut, tears beginning to leak out at the corners as he does so.

“Oh god. Martin?” Jon calls softly, fighting back against his panic, voice ticking upwards with effort. “Can you tell me where?”

Martin lets out a shuddering little breath, not opening his eyes as he replies.

“Face. Ribs. Stomach,” he chokes, draping one hand over his eyes, shoulders shaking with barely-repressed sobs.

Oh, Martin.

Jon feels his own tears creeping up his throat, swallowing them down in an effort to stay calm, to stay focused, to do something to mend the heart-shattering sight in front of him.

“My god. God, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, reaching out a hand to hover dangerously over Martin’s, before thinking better of it and pulling back.

Stop it. Focus.

“Can I take I look?” he asks as gently as possible, wishing more than anything that Martin would just open his eyes, would just look at him—

When he does, it’s with such wariness that Jon wants to vomit. He is not a stranger to this look—far from it, in fact—but to receive it from Martin’s eternally kind hazel eyes…that’s something Jon never wishes to see again. Despite his clear apprehension, Martin does reach a hand down to lift his jumper, revealing a bruising abdomen just up to the edge of his binder.

His binder.

“Martin, we should get your binder off those ribs—” Jon breaths out in a rush, hands instinctively reaching forward to touch—

“Don’t! Please don’t, Jon, just—just leave it, please.”

In a last-ditch effort to stop him, Martin grabs at Jon’s hand, keeping a shaking grip on it until fresh rivulets of tears begin to spill down his cheeks.

“Alright, alright—I-I’m sorry, I won’t…I won’t touch it,” Jon soothes quietly, unable to resist offering some gesture of comfort—and rests a hand on Martin’s forearm.

To his surprise, Martin does not pull away.

“I-I’ve got to call Basira, I’m sorry. She’ll pick us up,” he mutters, guilt heavy in his tone as he reaches out for his phone, though Martin does not protest.

As he talks, he keeps his voice intentionally calm and low, running his hand up and down Martin’s forearm now, hoping that the repetitive motion will give him something gentle on which he can focus. To his relief, Martin’s breathing begins to gradually slow, though the tears still slip unbidden down his cheeks.

“She’s bringing her car around as quick as she can,” Jon murmurs, squeezing his arm gently.

At this, Martin shakes his head rapidly, squeezing his eyes shut yet again.

“Just leave me here, Jon,” he whispers in a broken voice, beginning to tremble.

All Jon’s breath leaves his lungs at these words, absolutely devastated that they could even be spoken aloud.

“Wh-what?”

“Just leave me. You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t—you shouldn’t have looked,” Martin continues, voice a bit stronger, though his body still shakes.

Jon’s chest aches.

“I—maybe you’re right. But I’m not leaving you here, that’s absurd.”

“You don’t understand,” Martin snaps, though his angered expression drops almost immediately into something approaching guilt.

You’re right. I don’t.

And it breaks my heart.

Worrying at his bottom lip for a moment, Jon fights against the rising lump in his throat, choking everything back as he whispers.

“What happened, Martin?”

An echo of the first time he’d asked this question resounds through his mind.

“What happened, Martin?”

"You died.”

"I came back.”

“Yeah, and I’m not going to let it happen again.”

He can hardly bear it—this silence, this loneliness, this complete agony of facing a world without Martin—

And does the only thing left to his power: taking his hand in his own.

“Have I done something to hurt you? Please—if I’ve done something, anything—please tell me and I will try to make it right,” he begs, voice fading into a choked whisper against stinging tears.

Please tell me.

I don’t know how I can do this without you.

At last, their eyes meet in earnest, snow falling softly in both of their hair—but the warm hearth that is Martin’s gaze has gone out, swallowed up in swirling fog.

“I can’t,” he whispers, more tears slipping down his face as he removes his hand from Jon’s hold.

Jon’s heart is absolutely shattered.

“Can’t what?” he croaks, unable to keep the damp from his voice now.

“We can’t do this, Jon. You know we can’t.”

To that, Jon can find no words—no words to surmount this ever-deepening chasm between them. Bowing his head, he at last allows himself the relief of weeping, overwhelmed by the fog and the snow and the ice and the winter chill.

I don’t understand I don’t understand I don’t understand

He trembles—whether from wearing shorts in the snow or from the hurt of it all, he’ll never know.

“You’ll freeze,” Martin mutters from somewhere far, far away.

“It’s fine.”

“No. No, it isn’t.”

…what?

Momentarily taken aback, Jon blinks in shock before dragging his gaze back up to meet Martin’s. The way he looks at him now…there’s something he’s trying to say, something desperate to be spoken aloud, something in the way his eyebrows are creased and his eyes are soft and wide and full of regret—

“Christ, Martin, are you alright?”

Basira’s exclamation jolts them both back into the present, causing them to jump in surprise.

“Fine, I’m fine,” Martin assures, as blood continues to cascade down his face.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, crossing her arms. “I’m driving you to the A&E. No arguments.”

“I don’t need—”

“I said no arguments,” she barks, shutting Martin up at once. “What were they even getting at by attacking you?”

“I’d just gone to the cash machine,” Martin mumbles, dropping his head in shame. “Didn’t think anyone was watching.”

“That’s rich,” she mutters, pointedly glaring at Jon, who sighs exasperatedly. “Help me get him up, then.”

Crouching down on either side of Martin, Basira and Jon loop his arms around their shoulders before dragging him to his feet—nearly pulled back down again when Martin’s dizziness threatens to get the better of him. He gasps with pain at each step, chest heaving shallowly against the stabbing pain of his ribs, until they finally get him settled in the back of the car. By the time he’s seated, his face has gone paler still, looking ready to tip over into unconsciousness at any moment. Jon starts to squeeze in next to him on the seat, trying to press the hoodie back over his laceration, before—

“NO, you can’t.”

Martin half-shouts at him, pulling his hand down yet again and glaring frustratedly.

“But—but you need help, you—”

“I don’t need your help,” he hisses sharply, deliberately not meeting Jon’s eyes.

The hollow ache of it all settles deep in Jon’s chest, and he takes a small step back from the car.

“Just let it go, Jon, I’m begging you. Let me go,” Martin whispers damply, curling in against the pain of his battered ribs.

No no no no no

Tears pooling in his eyes, Jon hesitantly reaches out a hand to grip Martin’s forearm.

“Get well. Please,” he whispers—and drops his hand, gently closing the car door and wondering dimly if that’s the last time he will ever see him.

“Hey.”

Basira turns him around gently by the shoulder, forcing him to look at her.

“Don’t worry, Jon. I’ve got him,” she assures, gaze intense with meaning.

“I know,” he replies softly. “I know. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She gets in the car at once, giving him a nod before she drives off—tires kicking up the sludge in her wake, leaving Jon shivering in the emptiness.

Grief, bitter and biting, falls over him like snow.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #tma fanfic #whump #angst #hurt/comfort #trans martin blackwood #cw injury #cw blood #cw mugging #cw fainting #my writing

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marypsue · 3 years

Text

I cracked the last couple of questions I still had for the monster longfic I’m working on and filled another notebook, so I’m celebrating by posting another teaser for the sequel to the kids aren’t alright!

...

It starts, because of course it does, on Halloween.

If she was feeling more like herself, Barb would have some very sarcastic comments for the universe about that. About cliches, and being a little too on-the-nose, and how the original horror movie she had to live through really wasn’t good enough for a sequel.

But she’s not feeling like herself. She’s feeling cold, and shaken, and she keeps thinking she smells rot on the late-October air. Keeps thinking she can see flecks of drifting white moving in the corners of her vision.

Barb had fled fifth period biology when it had first started to seep in, an icy, somehow slimy, unwholesome cold creeping into every crack and crevice of everything yet to come. Had lost ten or fifteen minutes on the grimy tile floor of a bathroom stall trying to heave up something that wasn’t actually in her stomach, nauseated by the slick shivering inevitability of it in every direction she turned. She’s still got no idea how it hid itself from her at all, let alone so completely, so that by the time she got the first hint of a warning about it, it was already too late.

Unless – unless there were warnings, and she’d just brushed them off as paranoia, after what happened last November. After that – place. It had had the same kind of cold about it, the kind that chilled her almost feverishly, clammy and damp and sickening. Barb’s spent a full year trying to shake the memory off. If some of it hadn’t been memory –

But it doesn’t matter now. It’s too late. There’s nothing anybody can do to stop it, not anymore.

Whatever this is, it’s coming.

Nancy, loyal to a fault, had followed Barb to the bathroom, rubbed her back, and made sympathetic noises while Barb lost her lunch. Now she’s sitting on the concrete steps outside with Barb, breathing in the autumn chill, and Barb can tell she’s waiting for an explanation. Loyal to a fault, maybe, and brilliant and beautiful and determined, but one thing Nancy Wheeler’s never been is patient.

“Sorry,” Barb manages, pulling off her glasses so she can rub a hand against her left eye. The fresh air’s helping the dull throb that’s settled behind it, but the low, bright afternoon light isn’t. At least the nausea’s settled. “That – I wasn’t expecting it.”

Nancy just gives her big melty puppy-dog eyes and puts a slim hand on her arm. “Are you feeling any better now?”

Barb manages a nod.

Nancy glances back over her shoulder at the school before leaning in closer to Barb. Her voice goes hushed as she says, “I saw your nose start to bleed before you bolted. What happened?”

For a second, Barb considers lying. Blame the nosebleed on the dry air and the nausea on the pickled frogs they’d been dissecting or a bad egg salad sandwich or something. Whatever this thing is that’s coming, it’s bad. And there really, really isn’t anything anyone can do now to stop it before it starts. But if Nancy finds out – she’s going to try.

Barb doesn’t want to see what happens if Nancy tries to stop it. And not just because she’s got nothing left in her to throw up.

But then the door behind them is swinging open, with a metallic chunk and a squeal of put-upon hinges. Barb whirls around, heart in her throat even though she knows that it’s not that – that thing –

“Heard you left fifth period sick,” Jonathan Byers says, a crease of worry between his eyebrows, and Barb lets out a long sigh of breath as she relaxes. She won’t be able to keep the truth to herself now, but at least this takes it out of her hands. And – even with everything, it’s good to see him. If Barb had known what a sense of humour Jonathan’s been hiding under that hard shell of misanthropy, they might’ve been friends sooner.

The little twist of smile that crosses Jonathan’s face at that vanishes in an instant, that worry furrowing deeper. “What the hell was that?” he asks, with a piercing look at Barb’s face, settling down on the step on her other side.

Nancy shoots him a confused frown, and Jonathan bobs his head in Barb’s direction. And then they’re both looking at her, waiting for an explanation.

Barb swallows. She can still taste the bitterness of bile on the back of her tongue.

“I don’t really know,” she admits. “But it’s coming here.”

Nancy looks from Barb to Jonathan and back again. “Your vision?”

“Not a vision,” Jonathan says, before Barb can, and flashes her another twist of a smile when she turns to scowl at him.

“Something bad?” Nancy asks, her jaw starting to set in that way Barb knows means she’s got hold of an idea and she won’t let it go until she’s done something about it.

“Something weird,” Barb stresses, even though she’s pretty sure it’s already too late to change Nancy’s mind.

“You were throwing up. That sounds bad to me.”

“What sounds bad?”

Barb turns her head to look, just in time to get a faceful of Steve Harrington’s hair as he ducks down to plant one on Nancy. The smell of hairspray is overpowering. Barb coughs, leaning back out of range of the chemical assault, and collides with Jonathan’s shoulder.

Nancy makes a muffled, annoyed noise and pushes Steve off her, glowering. “Steve! This is serious.”

Steve shrugs, and claps Jonathan on the back with one hand before he settles down on the steps on Nancy’s other side. He tucks an arm around her waist, pulling her against his side, and Nancy shoots him a look that’s just a little too fond to really be annoyed before she settles against him. “Okay. It’s serious.” He leans forward a little, looking around Nancy to Barb. “Hey, you all right? Nicole said the frog dissection made you blow chunks. Don’t feel bad, there’s always one.”

“It wasn’t the dissection,” Barb says, as Nancy smacks her boyfriend in the chest with the back of one hand, not taking her eyes off Barb’s face. “It was the future.”

The joking grin drains out of Steve’s eyes before it fades off his face. “No shit? What was it?”

Barb fumbles for words, before turning a pleading look on Jonathan, who grimaces.

“I don’t really want any more of that slime in my head, either,” he says, which gets a quirked eyebrow from Steve and a thoughtful frown from Nancy.

“It – it feels like – that place,” Barb tries, which gets a look of understanding and what she thinks is a little bit of guilt out of Nancy, and a shake of the head from Steve. “The – Upside Down or whatever your kid brother called it. Where Jonathan’s brother was.” Her throat’s gone dry again, and she has to swallow before she can add, “Where that monster took me. And it’s coming here.”

“Not if we stop it,” Nancy says, after a beat, all flashing eyes and fierce determination, just like Barb had known she would.

“Nancy – we’re not going to stop it.” Barb has to look down at her interlaced fingers, away from her best friend’s face. “I ignored all the early warnings because I thought they were just bad memories, and now it’s too late. It’s coming here. Maybe we can – get rid of it, send it back, once it’s here, but I don’t know yet. And I don’t want to have to look at it again to find out.”

She can feel three pairs of eyes on her, but Barb doesn’t dare look up.

“That is bullshit,” Nancy says, at last, vehemently, and Barb puffs out a sigh. “No. I’m sorry, Barb, but I’m not buying it. If it hasn’t happened yet, then there’s still something we can do to stop it. Got to be. Right?”

“Nothing I could see. Nancy, I don’t want you getting in trouble trying to fight the inevitable, okay?”

“That’s our Nance,” Steve says, a little too fondly, tilting his head down to press a kiss to Nancy’s temple and putting both hands on her waist. Her whole face scrunches up, but she looks like she’s trying not to smile. “Always fighting the inevitable.”

“Steve Harrington, I swear to god if you try to tickle me -”

“Hadn’t even crossed my mind, right, Jonny-boy?”

When Barb looks over, Jonathan’s watching Nancy and her boyfriend with a crooked half-grin, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to laugh. “He’s an innocent man, Nancy,” he says, with mock solemnity, and Steve breaks into a huge, shit-eating grin over Nancy’s head at Jonathan before he leans over and blows on Nancy’s exposed neck, making her shriek. He follows it with a loud, smacking kiss to the same spot, and comes up looking like the cat who got the cream.

“See? You should trust me more.”

Nancy shoves him, but she’s laughing. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington!”

Barb looks back, sees the fond, soft smile Jonathan’s turned on the two of them, and abruptly feels a million cold, dark, rotting miles away from them all.

She pushes herself to her feet, deliberately looking away from Jonathan so she won’t have to watch his face fall. “I’m feeling better now. Think I’d better go apologise to Mr. Neal for running out on his class before algebra starts. Thanks for checking on me.”

“Barb,” Nancy says, but when she tries to get up, Steve yanks her back down into his lap. “Steve!”

“Oh, oh no, I’m – I’m trying to let you go, but – it seems like – kinda seems like – you ending up in my lap is inevitable?”

“Let me go, you Neanderthal -”

The school door slams shut behind Barb, muffling their voices.

#stranger things #this is mary's fic tag #'mary are those ot3 vibes intentional' always #i don't know how class periods worked in Indiana in the 1980s but where i went to high school we had eight per day #and most classes took up two

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cocos-cocoapuffsarenotforsale · 4 years

Text

What You’ll Sorely Miss

MASTERLIST

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this story. I was re-reading Goblet of Fire like a week ago when I got the idea for this story. This is one of the first Harry Potter Fanfics I’ve written so I’m pretty nervous to post it. I really hope you all enjoy it! Love you guys! Xoxo

Summary: When Harry’s sister disappears the night before the second Triwizard task, Harry’s not the only one who’s worried about her.

Warnings: Swearing, AU where Harry has a twin sister (Y/n), AU where Sirius never went to Azkaban and raised Harry and his sister, Fluff, Worried!Harry, Worried!Draco, Happy ending, Harry accepts their relationship (pretty quick), Nice!Draco, Sweet!Draco

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“Harry, what exactly did the egg say again?” You ask your twin, after putting away what must have been the tenth book you had read so far that night. You, Ron and Hermione, were attempting to help Harry figure out how to stay underwater for an hour for the second task of the Triwizard Tournament.

You were gonna have to find a way to tell Draco there was no way you could meet up with him tonight. While Draco and Harry may not have gotten along well you and Draco were an entirely different story. Of course with you being a Gryffindor and not to mention being Harry Potter’s sister and Draco being a Slytherin, the two of you had kept your relationship a secret for the past year.

Harry repeated the egg’s song for what must have been the 20th time that night. You were still just as stumped about what to do as you were the first time.

“Maybe we could ask Sirius?” You suggest half-heartedly, knowing your brother would refuse. Sirius was both your and Harry’s godfather and had raised the two of you after your parents’ murder. Harry and you were both extremely close to him. Harry, however, was constantly worried about disappointing him. And considering how quickly he had shot you down earlier about asking for Sirius’s help, you doubted he would agree to it now.

“Y/n, I can’t. I swore to him that I had figured it out weeks ago. He’ll kill me.” Harry sighs, dropping his head onto the book he was currently reading.

“Hard at work, eh?” You heard a familiar voice chuckled, looking up you saw George Weasley smirking down at you. Accompanied of course by his twin, Fred.

“As a matter of fact yes. So if that’s all then-” Hermione starts before Fred cuts her off.

“Actually, we came to get you and Y/n,” Fred says with a wink.

“Why?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at them. The last time the Weasley twins needed you it was to test out their nosebleed candies. Needless to say, you weren’t too keen on helping them anymore.

“McGonagall wants to see you and ‘Mione in her office,” George responds cheekily.

“Alright. Let’s go Y/n. Don’t worry we’ll be back in a bit to help you guys. But keep looking in the meantime.” Hermione says seeing the look of fear on Harry and Ron’s faces. Those two were practically hopeless without you and Hermione. Hermione loops her arm with yours and the two of you follow Fred and George to McGonagall’s office.

You knock on McGonagall’s door once the two of you reach her office.

“Come in.” You hear her reply. You open the door and enter to find not only Professor McGonagall but Professor Dumbledor, Ludo Bagman, Cho Chang, and a small blonde-haired girl.

“Miss Granger, Miss Potter, please take a seat.” Professor Dumbledore says gesturing to two chairs next to Cho.

“You needed to see us, Professor?” Hermione asks McGonagall looking around nervously.

“As I’m sure you all know the second task is tomorrow. Each of the champions will have something taken from them that they must retrieve. You are those things. Gabrielle, Miss Delacour’s little sister, Miss Chang for Mr. Diggory, Miss Granger for Mr. Krum and of course Miss Potter for Mr. Potter.” McGonagall explains gesturing to each of you.

“We ask that each of you take this potion. It will put you to sleep and as soon as you are above the water you will wake.” Dumbledore explains handing each of you a small vial of bluish liquid.

“What if they don’t reach us in time?” You ask nervously.

“My dear do you think I would ever allow anything to happen to students. You will all be fine even if your champion doesn’t reach you in time.” Dumbledore promises, looking at you with a twinkle in his eyes. You nod before locking eyes with Hermione and the two of you take the potion at the same time. God, I really hope Harry figures something out. You think to yourself before falling asleep.

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Draco’s POV

I’ve been looking around for Y/n all morning. Where the hell is she? She never showed up last night which hadn’t surprised me considering that the second task was today. But I didn’t see her at breakfast and she’s not with Saint Potter, so where the fuck is she? I couldn’t very well go asking about her whereabouts seeing as we had agreed to keep our relationship a secret. But now I’m really starting to regret it.

“Draky poo are you alright?” Pansy asks me with a look of concern on her face.

“I’m fine Parkinson. Get off.” I hiss as she tries to fix my hair. Only Y/n gets to do that.

“What’s wrong baby?” Pansy asks in her sickly sweet voice.

“Nothing and I’m not your baby! Just stay the hell away from me!” I say storming away from her. Crabbe and Goyle follow me looking very confused. They knew I hated Pansy and how she was always hanging around me. But normally I was very patient with her. Little did they know a big reason why was that seeing Pansy around me got Y/n all riled up. Y/n is so adorable when she’s jealous.

“Malfoy, are you ok?” Goyle asks.

“Fine. Let’s go watch the stupid task.” I growl as I climb in the boat. Hopefully, I’ll see Y/n out on the lake. I need to see Y/n. That’s all I could think about.

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Harry’s POV

“Where are they?” I ask Ron as we make our way down to the boats. Luckily we ran into Neville last night and he told me about Gillyweed. He gave it to me this morning at breakfast. So thankfully that part of the task was handled.

But we hadn’t seen Y/n or Hermione since they left the library for McGonagall’s office. And I was worried, Y/n would never miss this. She had never missed a Quidditch match, even when she was sick and miserable she came to cheer me on.

“I don’t know. It’s not like them to disappear. Maybe it’s a girl thing or something. I’m sure they’ll be out there waiting to watch.” Ron says patting my shoulder trying to reassure me. It doesn’t work.

Once we are all lined up about to dive into the lake I take one final look around and still don’t see them. The next thing I know Moody pushes me into the lake and I force myself to focus on the task.

Swimming towards the center of the lake I finally figured out where Y/n and Hermione were. Of course, I think to myself, “We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss”, Y/n.

After Cedric and Krum came I tried to wait to make sure Fleur got her sister. But after a while of waiting, I figured she wasn’t coming and I decided I would save both Y/n and Gabrielle. The merpeople were not happy about this but I won. Once we reach the surface they both wake up and gasp for air.

“Oh, Harry! I’m so sorry for not helping more!” Y/n exclaims wrapping her arms around me while we are still in the water.

“It’s ok Y/n/n. Can we get out of the water though I’m freezing?” I ask, making her laugh at me. We swim back towards the docks and all of a sudden there’s a splash and someone swimming towards us. Malfoy?

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

Your POV

“Draco, what the hell are you doing?” I ask as he swims towards Harry and me.

“Y/n, oh thank god!” He exclaims wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back to the dock. Harry’s in shock and just treading water looking at us with his jaw open.

“Harry!” Hermione shouts, shaking him out of his stupor. His look of shock turns to rage and he swims as fast as he can to the dock.

Draco reaches the dock and pulls me out with him before grabbing as many towels as possible and wrapping them around me.

“Are you alright love?” He asks cupping your face with his hand.

“Yes, Draco, I’m fine. But you might not be for much longer.” You giggle watching Harry storm over to the two of you, Ron and Hermione following him.

“Get your slimy hands off my sister Malfoy!” Harry shouts shoving Draco away from you.

“Harry it’s ok-” You try to say before he cuts you off.

“No, it’s not Y/n/n. What the bloody hell do you think you are doing Malfoy?!” Harry shouts.

“Potter calm down. Y/n/n and I have been seeing each other for the past year-” Draco tries to explain but Harry’s look of rage makes him stop.

“WHAT? You’ve been seeing that git for a year?! Did he put some fucking enchantment on you?” Harry yells making people turn and look, including all the teachers and the Headmaster.

“Harry, calm down. We’ll talk about this later. Let’s hear the scores.” Hermione whispers to him and forces him to turn towards the judges.

“This isn’t over Malfoy,” Harry growled before he walked away.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Draco asks you after Harry, Ron, and Hermione leave.

“I’m fine Draco. I’m just worried about Harry. He hates me now.” You feel tears well in your eyes. Harry was your best friend and your brother all wrapped in one and you can’t stand the idea of him hating you.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“How do you know?” You ask, turning away to hide the tears that were now streaming down your face from Draco.

“Hey, don’t cry Pretty Girl. He loves you more than he hates me. Besides just think about it, the task was that the person they would miss most would be taken from them. Harry’s person was you. He loves you,” Draco says wrapping his arms around you and placing a soft kiss on your temple. “And so do I.” He whispers the last part so quietly you weren’t sure you heard him right.

“What?” You ask breathlessly, as you turn in his arms to face him.

“I love you Y/n Potter,” Draco whispers, nervously.

“I love you too Draco!” You exclaim pressing a hard kiss to his lips.

“Y/n, Draco,” you hear your brother murmur. Draco and you break apart and you look down at your feet to scared to look at Harry.

“Y/n/n, look at me,” Harry pleads, the desperation in Harry’s voice making you look up.

“Y/n, I’m sorry about how I reacted before. Does he treat you right?” Harry inquires, seriously.

“Yes, he does. I love him, Harry. But I love you too and I can’t lose you.” You reply.

“You will never lose me Y/n/n. I love you too sis,” Harry says pulling you into a hug.

“Do you love her?” He asks Draco after he and you break apart.

“With all my heart,” Draco replies, giving you his signature smirk.

“If you hurt her in any way-” Harry starts but Draco cuts him off.

“Yeah, yeah, Potter, you’ll kill me. Don’t worry Potter, if I hurt her I’ll gladly let you.” Draco gives Harry his signature smirk before Draco wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Nice job today Potter, thanks for saving our girl.” Draco congratulates Harry.

“Yeah me and my stupid moral fiber. I could’ve gotten first if I wasn’t such a moron.” Harry replies with a chuckle.

“I can’t argue with you there.” Draco teases and it warms your heart to see your boyfriend and brother getting along. Even if they were still giving each other shit at least they weren’t hexing each other.

“I think you did splendidly,” you say giving your brother a high five.

“Thanks, Y/n/n. I gotta go party in the common room, can’t be late.” He explains before rushing off to join Ron and Hermione on the way back to the castle.

“Wanna go to the party with me?” You ask Draco.

“I don’t know, even if your brother doesn’t hate me I’m still a Slytherin. And we both know how Gryffindors feel about Slytherins.” Draco replies hesitantly.

“Maybe it’s time we start to change that.” You suggest giving him a small smile.

“Anything for my girl.” Draco agrees walking back towards the castle with you.

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco x potter!reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x potter!reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #potter!reader #harry potter x sister!reader #fluff #CANON DIVERGENCE #fanfiction #fanfic #CocosCocoaPuffsAreNotForSale #Happy Ending

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seemslegitflapjacks · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2, The Neighbors

When I woke up, It was already the next day. The obnoxious sun glaring at me through the curtainless window. I groaned, sitting up, my back aching from sleeping on the floor. I looked, seeing Rambo pawing at the door, asking to be let out. I sat up, kicking my way out of the sleeping bag, opening the door for the massive dog, who shoved his way out the door.

“Jeff! Wake up darlin and help us with the boxes please!” I heard my mom holler from downstairs.

I smiled, hearing my mom’s voice first thing in the morning was the best. Even if it was her telling me to grab scratchy cardboard boxes and carry them back and forth.

“Coming mama!” I hollered back, running down the stairs so fast I nearly fell.

“Hey raggamuffin.” My mom chuckled, ruffling up my messy head of hair.

“Hey mama.” I smiled back, hugging her, my mom returning my embrace.

“Ok, now go help your daddy and your brother with the boxes. Your boxes have your name on it baby.” My mom told me, giving me a kiss on the head as she shooed me away.

I walked outside, taking a few good seconds to adjust to the bright sun. I couldn’t remember the last time I’ve ever been outside when it was so bright. It was probably a California thing, hell if I know.

I kept walking to the moving truck, walking up the ramp, seeing my dad pass by with boxes in his hands.

“Mornin’ champ.” He greeted as he passed.

I gave my dad a wave back, searching for the boxes with my name written on them. After digging a bit, I found one of them. I carried it into my room, doing the same with the rest of my boxes. Back and forth, up and down the stairs. I honestly couldn’t tell whether I was running suicides or moving. It kept me busy though.

I had scratches from the cardboard all over my forearms. My arms and back felt so strained from constantly crouching down to pick up stuff. The constant back and forth up the stairs also took a bit of my energy. But it wasn’t as bad as soccer and lacrosse. Those were honestly way worse with the constant running.

After I had set the last box down in my room, I heard my mom call me from downstairs.

“Jeff! Come down please we have some neighbors!” My mom yelled, to which I rushed down the stairs.

Once I was outside, we were met by a young woman and her son. She had a slim deer like face with freckles and big doe eyes. Her son was about five or six, he has scruffy brown hair with big hazel green doe eyes and freckles.

“Hey, I’m Barbara, and this is my son, Billy.” The tall slim lady smiled, her hand patting her young son’s shoulder.

“Hi Barbara, my name’s Margaret, this is my husband Peter, and these two boys right here are my sons, Jeff and Liu.” My mom spoke, a smile on her face, our father matching her smile as the three of them shook hands.

“Hi I’m Billy!” The little kid blurted out, shoving out his hand towards my twin and I.

“Hey Billy, I’m Jeff, this is my twin Liu.” I smiled, shaking his tiny hand, the kid’s jaw dropping.

‘Mommy! They’re twins!” He told his mom, pulling on the edge of her shirt.

‘Oh! Your boys really are so alike Margaret!” Barbara replied, my mom laughing.

“You should’ve seen Jeff when he had short hair, couldn’t tell one from the other.” Our mother chuckled.

The three adults talked for a while, discussing random stuff. The conversation drew on for so long I knew my mom had already made a new best friend. I remember when I had to literally sit in the candle aisle at Wal-mart for a whole hour because my mom couldn’t stop talking to a coworker of hers. I love my mom but she’s gonna be the death of me someday I swear.

“Nice meetin’ y’all, see y’all later!” Our mom waved, finally, alas, I didn’t have to listen to my mom ramble about my brother and I.

Once we were back inside, I saw our cat Chanel laying on the couch. I smiled, quickly scooping up the little kitty in my arms, he let out a surprised meow, but instantly started purring when he realized it was me. I scratched his ears as I held him on the couch. My parents were talking in the kitchen, while my brother was attempting to figure out how to get the TV plugged up and connected to cable.

“You know It’d be nice if you helped me instead of petting the cat dude.” Liu told me, shooting me a dirty look.

“Sorry but I’m not willing to get electrocuted.” I clapped back.

Liu rolled his eyes, “You’re not gonna get electrocuted you wuss-” just then, almost on clue, the outlet shocked. Liu making a weird yelp noise, holding his finger.

“See? I’m not finna play ding-dong-ditch with God’s door dumbass.” I told him, sticking out my tongue.

“Shut up Rapunzel-” He snapped, embarrassed.

I rolled my eyes, continuing to pet Chanel, who was almost half asleep. My mom returned, turning to help my brother configure cable wires. The TV eventually flicked on, Liu grabbing the remote, changing the channel to some random show. Probably some white trash rich people show, House wives of nobody fucking cares. I hated the shows, but they were also entertaining.

At some point, my mom had turned it to the news. The reporter talking about a grizzly murder that had happened the night before. The body of a convicted child abuser was found strung up and gutted in the woods. The body was mutilated in all sorts of ways. Apparently the murderers had also smacked him around like a pinata. That was gruesome. Like, being a human pinata sounded painful. It wouldn’t even be that exciting, I mean, you don't even get candy you just get teeth n’ stuff.

We had dinner, which was just door dash Steak Escape. I grabbed Chanel, taking the little siamese cat upstairs to my room, plopping the cat down on my bed. Quickly walking into my bathroom, taking a shower.

I sat, letting the skin boiling water rain down on me. I closed my eyes, leaning my head up, the shower water making my forehead numb. I heard static fuzz up in my ears, slowly getting louder and louder. Before I opened my eyes, it had completely stopped. I quickly washed my hair, making sure I got it all before I lathered myself up in body wash, watching the soap rinse down into the drain.

I noticed the water turning pinkish red, quickly putting the back of my hand up to my face. Only to see blood. Shit, I was having another nosebleed. I’d been having a lot lately, they’d bleed until I started to hear static again. I didn’t wanna tell my parents, they’d think I was lying. Who would believe something like that anyways? Like, ‘Oh hey mom I hear static and everytime I do my nose starts gushing blood.’ Like my mom would totally believe that. I stepped out, quickly pinching my nose as I leaned over the sink. The static became louder and louder. It hurt so bad, it was ringing in my ears like a siren. I moved my ears back, trying to drown it out by making the blood in my ears rumble. But it didn’t stop. That’s when I gagged, hacking and choking, before a slug of blood splattered into the sink. Yuck.

I let go of my no longer bleeding nose, My hands stained bright red from the blood as it began to dry up. I turned on the sink, running my hands up under the water. Quickly grabbing a towel to dry myself off. I looked at myself in the mirror. My skin pale and yellowish, I felt cold and clammy. The skin on my arms splotchy with red. I looked sick as a dog. The bags under my eyes a dark purple brown. I looked disgusting, like actually nasty. I thought showers were supposed to make you feel and look better. Clearly today’s shower decided to nerf me.

I walked out, Chanel meowing loudly as he waited outside the door. The needy bastard wanting to be given attention. I nudged him away, grabbing some basketball shorts and a random t-shirt, bouncing up onto my bed. Chanel jumping up. The small cat meowing as he walked on my stomach, shoving his forehead onto my hand as I pet him. Chanel cured up on my lap purring until I got tired of petting him and fell asleep. Tomorrow was gonna be one hell of a day.

#creepypasta #jtk #creepypasta jtk #jeff woods #jeff the killer #liu woods #homicidal liu #alternate universe #my au #rewrite #creepypasta fandom #writers on tumblr #writing #chapter

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louiserandom · 4 years

Text

Of Nosebleeds and Allergies

Rating: T

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara

Summary: The sight of Madara waltzing around in the summer heat half-naked, muscles flexing beautifully, causes Tobirama to have an unexpected nosebleed. To hide the true cause from his overbearing Anija, he blames it on aggressive pollen allergies.

It seems fine, until it isn't, because of course Hashirama would then assume that his Mokuton is a devastating allergen and starts sobbing because he now has to stay away from his beloved baby brother.

A/N: for @tuliharja who is DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS MADNESS, SOMEONE ARREST HER😤😤😤 but also thank you asdfghjk i had WAY too much fun writing this😂😂😂😂 this is peak flail. PEAK FLAIL i tell you

Read on AO3 or continue under the cut :3 enjoy!

It's a cursed day, Tobirama decides.

For one, he'd always remained blessedly ignorant over why exactly Izuna swoons practically every time Tōka accidentally flexes her muscles—though whether or not it's ever truly accidental is up for debate—until today.

Today being the particularly sweltering mid-summer day when virtually every citizen of Konoha is frying alive, apparently, with only Tobirama, whose body temperature is naturally cooler due to his enhanced affinity for water, feeling perfectly content.

Madara, on the other hand, doesn't seem as comfortable, and that's Tobirama's only fully coherent thought before his mind blanks at the sight of Madara taking his shirt off, in their shared office no less, and stretching out his arms in a decidedly indecent manner.

Tobirama swallows heavily. Madara decides then to take a drink from his water bottle, so sloppily that stray droplets trickle from the corner of his mouth, along the column of his neck down his chest. Tobirama's brain, in turn, short-circuits.

Fuck.

Tobirama wonders if it would really be that strange if he runs away through the window right this second. Or douses the office with a Water Dragon.

He clenches his fists. Sighs. Berates himself for his ridiculous thought process.

Maybe Tobirama is overreacting. All right, maybe he's definitely overreacting, because of course, he logically understands that were it not for his stupid, godsdamned uncontrollable crush on the Uchiha Clan Head, he wouldn't be phased by the current display. He takes care to keep his face neutral and his posture more or less relaxed, focusing his gaze on the papers before him and away from the thick, bulging muscles, the tantalizing expanse of exposed, slightly tanned skin. It's more than a little horrifying for Tobirama to catch himself imagining how he'd licking the thin sheen of sweat on Madara's collarbones, chest, abs and—

Well. This is going nowhere.

Tobirama closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, frantically thinking of dead kittens and bloody battlefields in order to ward off the scorching flares of arousal.

Annoyingly, it doesn't work. He opens his eyes only to see drops of red on his—well, what used to be his top-priority tax proposal, and it takes his malfunctioning brain a few seconds to realize that he's been hit by what used to be Hashirama's constant plague during his sexually hyperactive teenage years.

A nosebleed.

A fucking nosebleed.

He scrambles for a tissue, keeping his gaze fixed downward and hoping to the gods Madara hasn't noticed the debacle.

"What the fuck is wrong, Senju?" Just Tobirama's luck. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Tobirama says, shaking his head erratically, "I just—I'm fine. A random nosebleed. Nothing to worry about, just—keep working." He even does a little wave with his hand, which is reminiscent of the flailing that's supposed to be Madara's specialty.

By the Pure Lands, this is embarrassing.

Madara watches him with narrowed eyes and then, because the universe doesn't care for Tobirama's mental stability, stands and walks over to him, removing the tissue from his face and inspecting the damage. Pale green flashes in Tobirama's vision, and he shuts his eyes closed, half-petrified, half-savoring the warm, comforting tingle that is Madara's chakra sizzling through him as he presses his fingers to the bridge of Tobirama's nose to heal him. The sensation stokes Tobirama's increasingly uncomfortable erection, making him resent the delectable pleasure.

(This is probably the gods' revenge for all the times he'd broken the laws of nature with his experiments. It's maddening.)

"Just a couple burst vessels," Madara says with a nod, finally (albeit regrettably) removing his hand. "Probably because of the damnable heat, yeah?"

"Mmhm," is all Tobirama manages, throat dry and mind ever more foggy as he's treated to a close up of Madara's taut, dangerously enticing nipples.

"You should maybe work from home the rest of the day," Madara suggests, pressing his palm against Tobirama's forehead. "You don't appear to have a fever, but you are a little flushed." He smirks then. "I thought you were blushing. It's a—it's a nice look—whatever, shut up!" Madara jerks away from him suddenly, both hands flailing a little.

Now that's... an interesting comment. Something to think about later.

"When did you become a mother hen, Uchiha?" Tobirama teases while Madara stutters through a bunch of incoherent insults. At least this is the Madara he knows and—likes, a welcome contrast to his uncanny concern earlier.

"Tch. Like I care," Madara glowers, "get a heat stroke, whatever, I don't give a shit. I mean—I do, but only because your brother would cry and get snot all over me if you get sick."

As if on command, Hashirama struts right through the door, the wood disassembling and patching itself back again once he's inside.

"Good morning!" he sing-songs.

"Stop abusing the fucking door!" Madara and Tobirama shout in unison.

"Oh, come on," Hashirama whines. "The door doesn't mind—I'd know!"

"We do," Tobirama says.

"Yes, and I also mind your presence," Madara growls. "You have your own office, so get the paperwork you need and fuck off."

"Madara, don't be so—Tobi. Tobi! Is that blood?"

Tobirama rolls his eyes. Great. Just what he needs right now.

"It's just a nosebleed, Anija. You don't need to heal it, Anija, Madara already did. Please, for the love of the gods, keep quiet." It takes all of Tobirama's self-control to keep his voice level as he talks alongside his brother's panicked whining, and it takes a particularly hard shove for Hashirama to shut up and focus on him. "Anija. I. Am. Fine."

"Okay," Hashirama breathes, worry never leaving his eyes, "you're fine—for now. But what if you get another nosebleed? How much blood did you lose? Is it the weather? Are you sick? Did Madara hit you, do I need to beat him up?"

"Hey!"

Tobirama scoffs. "I find it insulting that you think I wouldn't beat him up myself," he says, "especially considering his pathetic defeat in our last sparring match."

"You cheated, you fucking dick—"

"But none of the above," Tobirama goes on, silently laughing at Madara's attempts to get past Hashirama and presumably strangle him. "It's just..." His eyes trail treacherously over Madara's straining biceps. "Aggressive pollen allergies," Tobirama blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

The right thing to say, too, because Hashirama heaves a massive sigh of relief.

"Oh. Gods, well, allergies are easy to treat at least," he says, "but they're still dangerous, Tobi, and they can hinder your breathing! You'll need to stay inside a lot, of course, and I'll prepare some medicine for you, and—"

"Stupid fucking Senju," Madara grumbles, a bit calmer now and simply glaring at both of them, arms crossed. "Make sure to stay away from your precious brother too, since your Mokuton is one big fucking allergic hazard," he sneers.

Well, fuck.

Hashirama's expression twists into one of terror, and Tobirama sorely laments the lack of much-needed alcohol in their vicinity.

"I'M AN ALLERGEN, OTOUTO," the God of Shinobi screams, his eyes welling up with tears. "No, no, no, that means I'll have to stay away from you and gods, all the trees I grew in the village—"

"Why," Tobirama says, fixing a confused Madara with a glare.

"—I'll have to draw away all my chakra and probably seal and oh no, think of the children! What if I've already caused deadly allergic reactions—"

"Why would you do this," Tobirama sighs as Madara grows more and more baffled by the spectacle. He obviously meant it as a (poorly contrived) joke, but has apparently forgotten that Hashirama is an idiot.

"—Tobi, you have to move out immediately!" Hashirama shouts at him, shaking is shoulders, then recoils with a yelp, and Tobirama senses him forcefully toning down his chakra. "And far away from me, until I find a suitable treatment—oh, Madara!" He turns to his friend. "Since Tōka and Izuna are on their honeymoon, Tobi should live with you for a while—I mean you've finally confessed and you can spend quality time together! Just, you know, don't sleep with each other until Tobi—"

"WHAT THE FUCK," Madara shrieks.

What the fuck, Tobirama's mind echoes.

"I DIDN'T TELL HIM, YOU UTTER ASSHOLE." Madara lifts Hashirama by the collar and pins him against the wall. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

"But you told me yesterday—"

"I lied!"

"Well, you can tell him now," Hashirama whines, prying Madara's hands off himself, "while I quarantine and de-Mokuton everything, because Tobi could suffocate and die, Madara, this is serious."

"I won't." Tobirama raises his voice to be heard over Madara's cursing. He pinches the bridge of his nose. He can feel a massive headache setting in. "Anija, you do not need to quarantine yourself. It's all right. I am not allergic to the Mokuton."

"How can you know?" Hashirama demands, managing to restrain Madara's hands behind his back. "You've never had allergies before, only this year when we've basically moved into a village half-built by my jutsu, Tobi! It all fits."

"It doesn't," Tobirama growls, "because I'm not allergic at all. I lied. Go away."

"Why do you two keep lying to me? And then why did you have a nosebleed?" Hashirama tilts his head to the side, confused.

Tobirama sighs. "Madara hit me. We need to talk it out."

"Wh-what the hell, Senju?"

"What?" Hashirama growls, just as Madara yelps as his hands are squeezed tighter.

"I hit him first," Tobirama lies through gritted teeth, "and he hit back. Stop fretting. Now if you leave, I promise we'll talk, make up and maybe even hug it out like you always force us to."

Hashirama blinks. "Hm." He slowly releases Madara and drops the scowl, though his eyes remain narrowed. "You'd better be telling the truth this time. If you're not, I will ground both of you and issue a decree for that if I have. And I expect both of you over for dinner today along with detailed explanations from both sides because this kind of behavior is unacceptable," he chastises them before stalking towards their desks, grabbing the paperwork labeled for him and heading out in the same atrocious way, through the malleable door.

Leaving Madara and Tobirama drowning in a very uncomfortable silence that stretches on mercilessly.

Madara clears his throat, speaking first,

"Fuck."

With that concise assessment, he stalks back to his desk, dons his shirt back on and hides his face behind the high collar, slumping onto the chair like a disgruntled porcupine.

"So," Tobirama starts.

"Your brother is a menace."

Madara's chakra rages throughout the whole office, now almost painful as it burns against Tobirama's senses. He sighs.

"So," Tobirama says firmly, "when Anija said you meant to confess..."

Madara sinks further into his chair, half-concealed by his desk at this point.

"He meant—you like me?" Tobirama asks, wincing as Madara's chakra flares further.

"I hate him," Madara seethes.

Tobirama rolls his eyes. Such childish behavior.

"Well if that is what you were trying to tell me," he says, "I was going to say that I might—"

"Not attempt to kill me?" Madara cuts in.

Tobirama resists the urge to throw something heavy at the infuriating man. "That I might possibly not completely hate you too."

This has Madara fumbling to raise his head above his shirt only to gape at Tobirama for a few tense moments.

"Well, why didn't you tell me earlier?" he demands and even has the gall to sound offended.

"Why didn't you?" Tobirama parries. So many things would have been easier if he had, Tobirama's far-too-frequent hard-ons included.

"Because," Madara glowers, "because—why should I be the one to take initiative?"

Huh. Another interesting observation.

Tobirama smirks. "Fine then. This is me taking initiative: I say we ditch Anija's friendship bullshit and go get dinner together." He flinches. "Ditch him for as long as we're able, that is."

Madara blinks. "Dinner?"

"At your place," Tobirama suggests, dipping his voice lower, "if you'd like more privacy?"

Considering his embarrassing reaction to Madara's earlier display, it's viscerally pleasing for Tobirama to see the man blush, dark eyes glazing over prettily.

"Oh." Madara's lips curl in a grin. "I'd like that. I'd like that very much."

"Perfect." Tobirama barely reining in his own giddy smile. He motions to the thankfully small piles of paperwork they've left to get through. "Let's take care of these quick then, before Anija has the chance to sabotage us."

Madara huffs out a laugh. "Please. He'll be stuck with those missives until midnight, and that's if he's lucky."

"Do you remember that time when Anija had work to do and then didn't do it?" Tobirama muses.

"Hm. You mean every single time?"

"Exactly."

It's a bit of a surreal pattern that follows, both of them falling back on their usual banter, only with the added weight of their revealed feelings hanging over them. It's a comforting weight, for Tobirama at least, and for once, it doesn't feel wrong to let his gaze linger on Madara's lips, focus on the way his tongue darts out to wet them, stoking Tobirama's fantasies about how they'd feel against his own. His staring must give him away, though, and it's a few minutes later that Madara falls into abrupt silence, his eyes suddenly widening as he proceeds to stare at Tobirama like he's grown another head.

"Wait a second. Did you happen to have that nosebleed because—"

"Because you're an idiot," Tobirama interrupts him, his insides growing cold with renewed embarrassment, "and that raises my blood pressure."

Madara's mouth shuts, curving in a devious smirk. The bastard. Of course he wouldn't be fooled.

Tobirama clears his throat. "Listen, the sooner we finish work, the sooner we can leave and go on that fucking date," he says with a pointed glare. "So concentrate."

"As you wish, Tobirama," Madara drawls, a teasing glint in his eyes, "wouldn't dare to disobey."

Somehow, even without outright taunts, Tobirama feels like he's been defeated. It doesn't matter, though; what he may lose in dignity, he’ll make up for by preserving his outward composure.

Besides, the next hours give him the added pleasure of seeing how the mere promise of a romantic outing ramps up Madara's usually sluggish productivity to an astonishing degree.

It's a good day after all, he decides, and about to get much better.

#madatobi #tobimada #fanfic #madara uchiha #tobirama senju #humor #romance

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