#and then i was like oh it's probably just allergies and i'll feel better after a shower and by the time i leave | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

waddingham · 2 months

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oH Ted as the 'someone coming every week to cook and stock her fridge with meals'!! your brain does so much good work and I am so thankful we get to reap the benefits <33

yeah!!!!!! and i couldn't think straight until I got rid of it!!! here take this it's killing me!!

She begs Phillip to keep her on. She begs him, tries to double his fee even, to keep him from total retirement, but he's steadfast in his decision.

The thought of hunting down another chef is horrific. But he gives her no choice.

She blows through them like tissues for three months, suffering over-complicated meals, over-powering flavors, chefs clearly trying to impress as if she wants a Michelin star meal every night. She doesn't – if that was what she wanted she knows exactly where to get it.

When she's at home she just wants good food, that's easy to reheat and easy to eat. Which is how she ends up finally succumbing to Leslie's repeated insistence that she give his man a chance.

“He comes over once a month,” he tells her, more than once. “Puts together some things we can freeze and just pop in the oven. Simple enough for the boys to do it, so Julie and I can have at least a couple evenings where they can feed themselves.”

He brightens when she gives and asks for his info, and when she gives him a call, she's struck dumb hearing his American accent.

She's running out of options, so she takes a chance on him.

She taps her fingers on the counter, waiting for the doorbell, checking her watch when she finally hears it. He's perfectly on time, but she feels like she's already searching for a reason to be disappointed with him.

He has a pleasant smile for her, though, and a friendly demeanor and a firm handshake and a handsome face – none of which she can immediately find fault in as they introduce themselves.

“I'm sure you're busy,” he says as she leads him to the kitchen. “So I appreciate you taking the time to let me peek at the kitchen and ask you a couple questions.”

“Of course,” she says, used to the procedure by now. Most of them have some kind of sheet they have her fill out, usually via email, but she doesn't mind taking a moment to meet the person who's going to be cooking her food.

“Oh, this is nice,” he compliments, looking around the kitchen, as he sets down the backpack hooked on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she says, gesturing for him to claim a stool. “Though you can probably infer from your presence that it gets little use.”

“That's okay, I'll go easy on it,” he chuckles, pulling a binder from his bag and opening it up on the counter. “First, though, I wanna make sure I know what I'm cooking.”

He doesn't have a questionnaire or the like, it seems. The lined paper in front of him is blank before he scrawls her name at the top.

“How many people am I cooking for, first of all?” he says without looking up.

She licks her lips, her gaze shifting.

“Just me.” She keeps her tone matter-of-fact. She hopes.

The way he glances up makes her doubt whether she managed it.

“Makin’ it easy on me already,” he says with a soft smile, adding a 1 to the corner of his sheet. “You have any allergies or dietary restrictions?”

“No,” she says, then adds, “Though, I do have the tendency to drop meat for a while every so often.”

“A part-time vegetarian?”

She cracks half a smile. “Sure.”

“Okay,” he chuckles. “What kinda meals are you after? Breakfast, lunch, dinner?”

“Dinner, mostly, though I won't say no to the occasional breakfast. Mostly out of curiosity.”

She doesn't think any of the chefs she's hired have offered to make breakfasts.

“I make a mean frittata,” he grins. “What do you like, then? What are some of your favorites, so I can get a feel for what you want?”

“When I eat at home, I want quick and easy,” she says. “The less steps for me, the better. I don't want extravagant, elaborate meals. Shepherd's pie, any kind of pasta, soups, salads. Fish, chicken, red meat on occasion, not every week preferably. Anything veg heavy will probably be a hit with me.”

He nods, taking rapid notes in what must be a very familiar format to him. He fires off a few more questions for her, elaborating a bit further on what she likes before switching gears.

“Anything you absolutely don't want?”

“Not especially,” she says. “I don't like to limit a new chef too soon. I'd rather you make me your best and I'll let you know.”

“Uh oh,” he smiles.

He does that a lot.

“Am I on trial?”

She opens her hands up, giving him a small smile and he chuckles.

“I've had six chefs in ten weeks,” she tells him. “So yes, maybe a little bit.”

“Why didn't they fit the bill?” he asks curiously. “So I can avoid a similar fate.”

“I don't think they quite believed me when I told them how simple I wanted things,” she says. “Too many sauces and sides and heat this up separately and put this on this. If I want a five course meal, I know where to get one. When I get home from work, I want to throw something in the oven or dump it on a plate and microwave it, not anything glamorous.”

He looks pleased to hear it – he seems to actually relax slightly, as if he'd been uncertain he could deliver on what she wanted.

“Well, I can guarantee you that going too fancy will not be a problem with me,” he says, writing a few more things down. “I'm used to basic.”

“Good.”

“I've got Tuesday afternoons free, if we're doing every week.”

She nods.

“Between noon and four, if that works for you.”

“I'll be at work, so you'll have free reign,” she says, opening a drawer on the island and pulling a house key from it. “Make yourself at home.”

“Alrighty,” he says, taking it from her. She watches him pull a roll of masking tape and a ring of maybe half a dozen keys from his bag. He rips off a piece of tape and labels it with an RW before adding it to the keyring.

“If you ever have any requests, that number you have is my cell. Shoot me a text before Tuesday if you want it that week, or you can leave me a note.”

“Okay.”

“And let me know if you think of anything else you want me to know,” he says, starting to pack everything away again. “If you hate olives or can't stand Bleu cheese.”

“I love olives,” she says emphatically. “And there's no kind of cheese I will refuse.”

“Cheese is the best, right?” he remarks. “They're all good. Yellow, white, hard, soft. Even stinky, moldy…still good.”

She snorts a bit, but fully agrees.

“I'm pretty much always stocked with fresh mozzarella to nibble on so feel free to help yourself.”

“Oh, don't tell me that,” he says, shaking his head. “I'll clean you out every week.”

She chuckles as he throws his backpack over his shoulder.

She sees him out, intrigued now to see what he cooks up for her.

When she gets home on Tuesday, there's a delicate cacophony of smells hanging in the air and she remembers for the first time today – after a long, trying weekend – that Ted was meant to come.

And apparently did.

The kitchen is spotless (thank God – chef number two had a tendency to slack on the cleaning up bit) and she eagerly makes her way to the fridge.

Each covered pan has a strip or two of tape on top – 35 minutes @ 175° the small square one requests. Thank God. One singular step.

If it tastes like shit, she's going to cry.

It reveals itself to be a lasagna and she flips the oven on, lets it get hot while she peeks at the rest of what he's made, then pops it in the oven while she goes upstairs and gets comfortable.

She notices the extra pan by the kettle when she comes back down, this one without a lid, left on a trivet.

Three neat rows of shortbread lie within it, a note flat on the counter in front of it.

A little extra treat – maybe a bribe so I don't end up being Disappointing Chef Number 7 – and a thanks for giving me a shot. I'm told these are a winner with a cup of tea.

He's signed it with a mustached smiley face that makes her chuckle.

They smell divine. She can't resist prying one up and taking a bite.

“Oh, fuck me,” she mutters to herself, looking at the biscuit with a bit of wonder as it melts on her tongue, perfectly sweet and salty.

Oh, wow. She glances at the oven, then the pan in front of her.

She might have struck gold.

Everything is delicious. He's clearly not a professional five star chef, but every bite has her in disbelief.

It's just so good. She was skeptical, but he even nails a shepherd's pie for her, dumping cheese on top without her even requesting it. Nothing is unpleasant or poorly made, nothing has her thinking to text him and tell him she didn't love it. His portions are more than enough for her and she frequently takes what's left to the office with her. She has never taken lunch with her to work. Ever.

His cooking tastes like dining at a friend's house, like family made it, like he loves cooking for people and puts it in every bite.

And the biscuits. She finished the pan before the week was even out, unable to help herself.

She's a little bit devastated when there are none on the following Tuesday.

She leaves a note the next time she expects him.

Any chance for biscuits again?

She's ecstatic to find a fresh pan when she gets home.

She's nursing her last three by the weekend, determined to make them last long enough to request more.

I hope no notes is a good thing?

She's been meaning to text him, tell him how pleased she is with everything he's made, but it continued to slip her mind.

How am I doing?

No notes is a very good thing, she sends back. Everything has been absolutely delicious.

Oh good :)

I love to hear it

The biscuits have become a problem though

No biscuits next week then?

God no

I'm hooked on them

Don't do that to me

You got it boss

She almost laughs at herself when she gets home.

She's turning down dinner dates and good-looking men in favor of a date with the container labeled prosciutto stuffed chicken breast in her fridge that she's been thinking about all day.

He'd probably get a kick out of the fact that his food is so good it's ruining her dating prospects, but that's most definitely not something she'll be telling him.

She gets herself a little bit of this week's salad while she waits on the oven – romaine with candied walnuts, dried cranberries, gorgonzola, sliced green apple with a deliciously sharp vinaigrette. She peruses the fridge in her typical Wednesday fashion – on Tuesday evenings she's made a habit of grabbing the first thing she sees and letting him surprise her – looking for the small container of sauce that the lid of the chicken makes mention of.

She chuckles when she sees it. Some of his notes on things have gotten more elaborate, sometimes teasing, sometimes with a wine pairing suggestion, sometimes just with a little smiley face. The lid for the sauce only says creamy pesto, but there's masking tape wrapped in a spiral over its sides, covered with writing.

I know, I'm gonna get in trouble for making a separate sauce for something but all you gotta do is dump it on when it's done! It's worth the extra step I promise!

She snickers around her salad, setting it on the counter.

It's well, well worth the extra step.

When she gets home on Tuesday, she's unexpectedly greeted by a strong, delicious smell and noise from the kitchen. She leaves her heels and her coat before turning into the kitchen.

Ted's at the stove, looking almost mortified as he immediately starts apologizing.

“I'm sorry, Rebecca, I'm so behind today, but this is my last one and then I'll clean up and get out of here–” he rambles, but she's taking him in more than listening. Namely, she's taking in his tired bloodshot eyes and his disheveled hair and the way his hands shake as he gestures to the mess of the kitchen.

“I'm sorry–”

“No, Ted, it's alright,” she insists. “It's not a problem.”

“I'm almost done.”

“Are you okay?” she asks gently.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I just need to finish this…”

She frowns and rounds the island, unconvinced and unsettled – he's almost frantic with energy.

“Come here.”

He frowns as she pulls him away from the stove.

“No, it'll burn–”

“In which case I'll survive with one less meal,” she says firmly, pushing him to the dining table. “Sit.”

He does – reluctantly – and she gets him a glass of water.

“Take a deep breath. Relax,” she insists before stepping to the stove. The pan there has a sauce in the making, a plate of meatballs next to it, as well as a pot of water getting hot.

“What needs done here?” she asks.

“I can–”

“Stop,” she commands, lifting a brow at him before he can rise. “Sit. Just tell me.”

“The, the cream needs to go in,” he says. “Give it a second, then the other two little bowls there, the Dijon and the Worcestershire and then the spices.”

“Okay,” she says, keeping her voice steady, hoping it'll relax him, show him she's far from upset that he's still here.

She follows his instructions, pouring the measuring cup of cream in and mixing it with the little whisk that's already there. She lets it get hot, then adds the rest, stirring it in.

“What am I making?” she asks with a small smile.

“Swedish meatballs,” he supplies, sounding distracted. “One of my favorites.”

“Swedish, hmm?”

“Well, I can't speak to them being authentic,” he says. “Recipe was my mom's. And she's definitely not Swedish.”

It smells delicious – whatever spices she just added were warm and aromatic and it makes her mouth water.

“What next?”

“Uh, turn the heat down and let it simmer,” he says. “Needs to thicken.”

She dutifully turns the stove down and then joins him, taking a seat next to him.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he deflects, “I'm fine. Just…didn't sleep so good and then this morning was…I'm fine.”

She doesn't push, seeing how much effort he's putting into forcing a smile and changes course.

“Do you have anywhere else to be today?” she asks.

“No, no, you're my last client on Tuesdays.”

“Then stay,” she insists, gesturing to the stove. “Looks like enough for two.”

“I shouldn't,” he tries, shaking his head. “I should get out of your hair.”

“You're not in my hair,” she asserts. “I would enjoy the company and I'm most certainly not complaining about getting a meal fresh off the stove.”

He looks her over for a moment, presumably looking for any hint of falsehood before he nods a bit haltingly.

She smiles.

“Should, uh, should put the meatballs back in to finish ‘em,” he murmurs. “And get the noodles on.”

“Yes, chef,” she says, giving him a wink when he finally smiles.

“I'll do it,” he says, and she lets him this time for how much calmer he seems. She occupies herself by offering him a drink and pouring herself a glass of wine. He accepts a couple fingers of a scotch he's apparently had his eye on for the last few weeks and she watches with interest as he takes a sip.

“Oh, that's nice,” he mutters.

“The only one I buy anymore.”

“You have excellent taste, I have to say,” he remarks. “Thank you.”

She helps him get the rest of the dinner together and is glad to see him relax more and more, until he's smiling easy as they both sit at the island with bowls of noodles and meatballs.

“Well, it smells fantastic,” she says, eagerly stabbing a forkful of noodles and half a meatball.

It's delicious. Creamy and warm and truly everything about it screams comfort food.

“Oh, Christ,” she mumbles around it.

“Yeah? That one a winner?”

She nods emphatically, eyeing him as she chews.

“Nothing you make is bad,” she mumbles, watching him take his own bite.

“That's ‘cause I only make what I know I can make good for you,” he chuckles.

“Why's that?” she asks. He can take a chance on her – he's built up plenty of faith in him already. One bad meal isn't going to have her canning him.

“Oh, to impress of course,” he says with a crooked smile that she returns.

“You've already done so,” she says. “I haven't had a single thing I didn't like.”

“I'm very happy to hear it,” he says, sounding very genuine about it.

They eat slowly because conversation comes very easily. Whether it's the drink or the distraction of her company, he's light-years away from the frazzled ball of anxiety she was met with.

“Safe to assume you don't enjoy cooking much, huh?” he asks her as they both scrape their bowls.

“I don't think I would mind it if I had ever learned,” she muses. “But I've had a cook for most of my life and learning how now just to feed myself seems more trouble than it's worth.”

“You've had a cook most of your life?”

“My parents kept one when I was a kid, and then when I was married, my ex-husband insisted on a cook,” she says, half rolling her eyes. “Thank you, by the way, for not inundating me with pork pies and sausage rolls and roasts and dousing everything in gravy.”

“I enjoy a good gravy, but, oof, that's heavy eatin’ right there.”

“Too heavy,” she agrees. “Though my tastes were rarely taken into account.”

He hums as he wipes his mouth and she finds understanding in his eyes.

“How long were you married?” he inquires.

“Twelve years,” she says slowly.

“That's a lot of gravy,” he says more seriously than the words might call for. She hears his meaning plain enough.

“Yes. It was.”

“Well,” his tone brightens a bit, “now you got me to make whatever you please.”

“Too right,” she chuckles, sipping her wine. “And it's always spectacular. I don't know how you do it, what you're lacing everything with…”

“Oh, I just make sure I put a little love in everything, that's all,” he grins.

She takes in the sight of him, smiling and content, his creased eyes warm, and she likes this. She's enjoying this. She likes him.

It's so hard to know though, even as his eyes move over her face, the quiet stretching long, if she likes him or if she's simply missed enjoying a comfortable meal at home without having to do it alone.

Her eyes drop, aware of how intensely she’s looking at him. She's not sure when it happened but they're both turned completely towards each other on their stools, leaning on the counter, and his fingertips are right there at the edge of hers – the mere straightening of her fingers would bring them into contact.

“I appreciate you letting me stay and have some of your dinner,” he says softly.

“You made it,” she offers with a grin.

“You paid for it,” he returns.

“It's not a problem at all,” she says, meaning it wholeheartedly. “It's nice to have some company.”

“I'm gonna be honest with you, Rebecca, you don't seem like a woman who would have any problem finding company.”

Her brows lift alongside the corners of her mouth, a little internally delighted by his boldness.

“I think I'll take that as a compliment,” she grins.

“As it was meant,” he assures.

“In which case…I'll amend to say it's nice to have such comfortable and easy company.”

His cheeks round, his gaze dropping in something akin to bashfulness and she thinks it really might just be him that's growing on her.

“I’m glad you stayed,” she says, her smile slanting crookedly. “Even if I pretty much made you.”

“I didn't wanna impose. You were very kind to give me a second to…calm down.”

She's not sure if it's embarrassment, exactly, or shame that has him toying with his glass instead of looking at her.

“Felt like I was trying to catch up to myself all day,” he admits.

“I know the feeling,” she sympathizes.

He's quiet for a moment before he responds.

“My ex-wife was supposed to come out with our son in the next couple weeks here, but she called and they pushed it back until the summer.”

His frown is back and his gaze is faraway, but she doesn't speak.

“Been here for almost a year now and they still seem to be getting on just fine without me.” He sounds like he wishes he could say it with detachment, but it comes out rather devastated.

“They're in the States?” she asks gently, pulling him back to here and now as he shakes himself a bit.

“Yes.”

“Why don't you go see them?” she tries, though she's very aware she's got the bare minimum of facts.

“‘Cause I'm still stinging from her snapping that she just needs some goddamn space,” he says, giving her a twisted, wry little grin.

She frowns but he shrugs, lifting his drink to his lips.

“S’pose it's about time to just get over it,” he mumbles.

“That's not easy to get over,” she says kindly. “Especially from someone you love.”

“No, it's not,” he agrees. “Ain't much love to lose these days, though. You're probably right, should just take matters into my own hands, hop over the pond.”

“Don't go too long,” she says, only half teasing. “I shouldn't be left to feed myself for a prolonged period of time.”

He smiles again and the sight has warm satisfaction melting in her.

“Oh, if I go anywhere I'll set you up, don't you worry,” he assures her.

“Thank goodness.”

It's odd how difficult she finds it when she rises and steps away. A part of her wants her to stay put, keep the space between them minimal, but she writes it off as a result of just how long it's been since she had sex.

“Now, I don't see any biscuits,” she says. “But I suppose I'll give you a pass this week.”

He rises with a soft chuckle, following her with his own dish to the sink.

“No, no, I'll do it,” he says as he starts to clean up from dinner. “Unless you need your kitchen back.”

She starts gathering dishes – he must clean as he goes, because it's not nearly the mess she'd imagine would come from cooking four whole dinners.

“Oh, for what? You think I have a chef on the side coming over tonight?”

He turns, expression scandalized, a hand landing on his chest as if he's been shot.

“Tell me you'd never.”

She chuckles, joining him at the sink, hands full.

They clean up together and then she pours them both another drink before she claims a stool, content to watch as he puts together a batch of biscuits. She watches him move comfortably around the kitchen, chatting easily with her, and it's making an impression, one she's blatantly ignoring.

She half expects him to try to leave her once they're in the oven and has her excuses for him to stay at the ready, but he sits again, waiting the half hour they need to bake at the island with her. He asks her about her job, how she came to own the club, and conversation wanders to and fro.

“I'm intrigued to see what you've cooked up for me this week, chef,” she remarks at one point.

“You know I ain't really a professional chef, right?” he chuckles. “I dropped out of culinary school actually.”

“Really? Why?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I wasn't having fun. I love cooking, I love making food and feeding people, but I didn't wanna do it the way they train you to, you know, cooking in a restaurant or joining the race to be the next big something. I like doing it this way. Getting to know people and cooking what they like. Feels like I'm paying the bills by cooking for friends and that's…” He clicks his tongue with a nod. “That's just perfect for me.”

“Well,” she says, smiling at how clearly he loves what he does. “You're still a chef. Definitely to me at least.”

He rises when the oven chimes, giving her a smile.

“That's enough for me.”

The biscuits have filled the kitchen with the warm scent of vanilla – the same scent that's usually still barely lingering when she gets home.

He stays long enough to let them cool slightly and cut them and she watches as he arranges them on the trivet by the kettle, just as he always does. He packs his things up then and she sees him out, exchanging smiles and goodbyes.

She's still smiling when she finally goes upstairs to change for the evening and it takes her a while to identify the feeling.

She feels like she just got home from a really, really good date.

It wasn't a date, so she doesn't know why she's disappointed when she doesn't hear from him again over the week. She doesn't contact him either, trying to recategorize the evening in her mind.

She's very pleasantly surprised, in that case, when she comes home the following Tuesday and he's still there. She knows by the smell of something sweet and nutty filling the air before she even gets to the kitchen.

It's spotless this time. He's not all anxious energy this time either – he smiles when she peeks in, looking rather uncertain about his welcome, but it still makes something deep in her chest ache.

It's rather nice. To come home to a smile from someone.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello.” She lets her smile ease his uncertainty and her tone ask her questions for her.

“I, uh, wanted to say thank you,” he explains. “For last week, when I was…when I wasn't feeling so great, for being so kind, letting me hang out for a while.”

She starts to wave it off again, but he continues.

“I made a little something special for ya. Something I can't really leave for you to reheat later,” he says, gesturing to the ovens. “If you want a little snack?”

She nods eagerly, kicking her heels off toward the stairs before she joins him.

He pulls a dish from the oven and sets it on the counter. He fiddles with something there, but she doesn't see what until her turns, sliding a round plate to the center of the island between them.

Whatever it is is perfectly golden brown, looks delicious and smells heavenly.

“Honey baked brie,” he informs her. “With some walnuts and some fig jam, tiny bit of rosemary.”

“Oh my god,” she almost moans. “And it's what, wrapped in pastry?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he smiles. “Thought it might be something you like.”

“I can tell you already you're correct,” she says, rounding the island to find them some forks. “I can't wait to taste it.”

“Let me know how you like it.” She frowns, but he's got a small smile when she looks up. “I'll let you…”

“You think I'm going to eat that entire thing myself?” she asks, lifting her brows as she pulls two forks from the drawer.

“Well, I know how much you like cheese,” he chuckles.

“I'll share,” she says, handing him a fork. “With you.”

She doesn't even have the patience to sit down – she slices her fork through the pastry and creamy brie begins to ooze out. She scoops it up with some pastry, catching a nut and a bit of fig and shoves it in her mouth.

“Careful, it's hot–”

“Fuck me,” she mutters without thought.

It's delicious. Creamy and sweet and savory, the pastry flaky and buttery. It's rich and indulgent but not sickeningly so and she’s in love.

She's bringing another bite to her mouth when she realizes he's just smiling at her, pleased as punch.

“Please eat some,” she begs around her bite. “Because I can not eat all of this and I will if you leave me alone with it.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, cutting off a bite for himself.

He hums, pleased with his handiwork. “Mm. Not to toot my own horn, but that's good.”

“Mm!” she hums, getting an idea. She steps away to the wine cooler, squatting down to look for one of her less frequent whites. She comes back with a pair of glasses and an off-dry Riesling.

“This was a bit too bright and citrus-y for me, but it might be gorgeous with this.”

“Okay. You’re the sommelier here, not me,” he says as she pours, then slides a glass to him.

“Oh, please, your pairings are always spot on.”

It does go nicely, complimenting every bite.

“God, this is lovely,” she tells him.

“I'm glad you like it,” he mumbles around his own bite.

“Did you make the pastry?”

He shakes his head. “No. Normally I would, but I didn't decide on this until I was shopping today and that takes some time.”

“How long did this take?”

She listens with interest as he explains how he made it, amazed at how straightforward it sounds.

“Christ, it sounds like I could make it.”

“Uh oh,” he says, eyes widening. “Am I talking myself out of a job?”

“Oh, hardly. Even if I figured out how to make everything you cook for me, I'd still keep you around,” she admits. “You’re good company.”

“Well, that's nice to know,” he smiles, eyes soft.

“Also, knowing how to definitely doesn't mean I actually have any desire to cook any of it myself,” she chuckles. “So you still have plenty of use.”

She winks with her teasing as his warm laugh has him tucking his chin, his crows feet deepening.

“I see how it is.”

She can't help but take him in, delighted by how carefree he is today. God help her, she really does like him – she wants to know him better. He's so genuine, so unselfish and generous, and she wants to keep him smiling.

“Thank you,” she says when she finally really can't eat any more, maybe a quarter of the round of brie left on the plate. “That was very kind of you.”

“No, thank you,” he echoes. “It was nice last week, to sit and eat with someone and I needed it.”

She nods get agreement, leaning her hip against the counter.

“I won't, uh, make a habit of just hanging out here, though,” he says, presumably to reassure her.

Her brows tip, eyes on his as she lets out a disappointed, “No?”

His lips part, but he doesn't manage to form a response. It hardly matters – they're communicating plenty in their gazes, trading glances at each other's lips. The moment stretches, and stretches, her breath changing to suit the surplus beats of her heart at the intensity in his warm eyes.

He leans closer, tipping his head, and something jolts through the center of her when he kisses her. She returns the gentle pressure, daring to part her lips to close them against his. Her fingers curl into her hand at her hip with restraint, fighting the urge to sink into his hair or pull him closer.

It's too delicate, this lovely feeling, and draws a tenderness up through her she hasn't been able to find for months.

He eases back slowly and she catches the breath he stole. Her eyes open, finding his still closed and she watches his parted lips begin to tighten as he fights a smile. The sight inspires one of her own, pulling at her cheeks as he opens his eyes, the smile winning and straightening his mustache out.

“I, um…”

She rolls her lips into her mouth, not even trying for words. She has none.

He can't find any either.

She drives forward again, prepared this time with a little extra breath in her lungs, a little more confidence. He kisses her back with a little more something too and she can't restrain her hands anymore from rising to hold his face. She tries to imbue the motion of her lips with plenty of invitation, but it's not until she pulls back and he follows, wavering toward her, that he steadies himself with a hand on her hip. Her attention goes straight to the heat of it through her dress as it slides to a more respectable height on her waist.

“You are very welcome to linger here as much as you like actually,” she exhales.

“Oh, I feel welcome,” he says, voice low.

She grins, pulling him in again. “Do you?”

“I sure do.”

He barely gets the words out before they're kissing again. She opens to him, tastes the brie and honey and the dry sweetness of the wine and finds it appropriate that he should be so indulgent. His hands finally make their way around her, narrowing the space between them even more. She's not sure when her arms found their way around his neck but they tighten there in response.

He doesn't let her go far when they part again, dropping a kiss on the corner of her mouth, her cheek. Her eyes close with the sensation, the scratch of his mustache and his warm lips.

“I really like cooking for you,” he murmurs.

The way he says it makes it sound like a deep confession and she feels silly for how fluttery it makes her to hear. She smiles against his lips and discovers this isn't new information to her. It's in every bite.

“I know you do,” she says low in his ear. “I can taste it.”

“Can you?” He sounds surprised and pleased.

“Yes.” She guides him back to her lips. “I can.”

#i don't know how you accidentally write five thousand words of fanfiction but it happened to me...#a gift for you anon. just cause 💌#also sorry the formatting sucks here but i don't feel like titling and tagging and summarizing and posting on ao3 rn #anon #tl drabbles

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daintyys · 6 months

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in sickness and in health

fem!reader x remus lupin, 648 words, VERY LIGHT swearing

tw for throwing up and other sick stuff. also in this the daughter is named gracie!

Your daughter was a germbag, and you knew that, but as a mother, of course you had to take care of your baby. So when you got sick from her, it was no surprise to you or your husband Remus.

It started with a cough, which Remus immediately pointed out.

"Love," He said as you walked through the front door hacking loudly. "how long have you had that cough?"

You cleared your scratchy throat and shrugged. "Woke up with it, probably just allergies." Hanging up your scarf, you felt two strong arms snake their way around your waist.

"Hi handsome." You breathed, turning to look up at Remus. He smiled, his curly hair falling over his eyes perfectly.

"Y/N, I really don't like the sound of that cough, you have the same one that Gracie had." He looked worried, and you didn't like that.

"I appreciate your concern, Remus, but I'll be alright. I'll run a bath and maybe that'll help clear my lungs." You kissed your husband's lips quickly and made your way upstairs.

You ran a hot bath, and tried to relax. It was working until your daughter Gracie burst into the bathroom, tears streaming down her face. Remus ran in after her, trying to pull her out of the bathroom. "Gracie, Mama needs some quiet. Can we please just go read in your room?" He pleaded.

You stayed quiet, not wanting to make the situation worse, until you were suddenly overcome by nausea. "Remus, please get out with her right now." You squeaked, grabbing your towel.

"What's wrong? Oh-" He began as he watched you run to the toilet.

You hated vomiting, and Remus knew that, so he immediately called your parents to come pick up the kids.

"Good thing Gracie doesn't have school tomorrow." He whispered, rubbing your back and sitting with you next to the toilet. You let out a small laugh, and then immediately vomited again.

"My beautiful, sick, lovely wife," Remus cooed, pulling your hair back. "I am so sorry for you." You turned your head toward him, with a slight grin on your face as you proclaimed: "You're next".

After finishing up in the bathroom, Remus lead you to your bedroom. "What pajamas do you want, baby?" He asked, going through the drawers of your dresser. "The fluffy white ones." You sighed, shivering profusely.

"I love these on you," Remus said as he helped you get changed. "you look like a polar bear in them."

"A polar bear who feels like shit." You groaned. Remus laughed, grabbing your hairbrush. He brushed your hair back into a bun and helped you into bed.

"I can do this stuff for myself, you know, but I'm not complaining." You giggled, cuddling up in the blankets. Remus smirked, laying down next to you. "I love being at your service." He purred, kissing your cheek.

"Oh don't do that! You'll get sick too!" You gasped, pushing him away slightly. He gasped dramatically, and pulled you closer. "If getting sick means I get to spend more time with you alone, then I'm all in." Remus professed, gently playing with your hair.

You couldn't fight him on it, so you let him stay, and when you woke up in the morning, he was already out of bed.

Along with waking to being alone, you now also had an awful headache, and a stuffed up nose. You jumped a little as the door opened and Remus walked in, shirtless and holding two hot mugs of tea.

You blushed, still feeling that girlish crush for him even though you were married. Remus noticed, and laughed quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"How are you, Y/N?" He asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you took a mug from him.

"Well, much better now that you're here." You said, kissing him tenderly.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #hp #marauders #daintyys #fluff

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mytheoristavenue · 1 year

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TMNT Leonardo x Mutant!Reader 🍋 - Teach Me - All 4-1 March

Summary: The cultures of mutants is so new to you and Leo is here to guide through your newfound urges.

Warnings: Adult!Leo x Adult!Reader, Fem!Reader, Mutant!Reader, reptilian!Reader, loss of virginity, mating season, Impregnation, Non established relationship, corruption, baby trapping, pregnancy kink

You hated this. At first, you'd chalked it up to allergies, but you now knew that his was something else entirely. Through research you were able to deduce that your symptoms boiled down to the time of year. Nesting behavior, more powerful motherly instincts, and an insatiable ache that no amount of self service could quench: you were experiencing heat for the first time.

Initially, you were able to isolate yourself in your room and find some sort of tranquility but as time progressed and your senses heightened, that was no longer an option. You would smell sweat rolling down necks as training drug on, food that was cooking in the kitchen as if you were there yourself, and the lingering aroma of soap on a person long after they'd showered. You began to wander out of your room at times when everyone was out or asleep, just to be able to sit with the remnant that your coinhabits left behind- just to feel a mite less alone. This was one of those times.

You laid on the couch, nuzzling your face against the back cushion, bathing in residual warmth of it having been sat on, pillows and blankets wrapped around yourself in a cozy nest.

"Trouble sleeping?" a stern voice called from across the room, close to the entrance of he hallway that lead to the dormitories.

"L-Leo?" your head shot up and you instantly began straightening yourself out and dismantling your small pallet. "W-What are you still doing up?"

"Glass of water." he answered. "What are you doing up?"

You thought for a moment, eyes darting between him and the fabric draped across you. "It's too cold in my room, so I was going to sleep on the couch for the night."

He cocked a suspicious brow as he weighed your answer. "You must really like the couch then, judging by how you were nuzzling it just now." He watched you go rigid, shoulders becoming stiff at the prospect of being found out. "C'mon, tell me what's really going on." He urged, sitting down on the couch beside you.

You were finding it hard to keep the secret any longer, needing to get it off your chest. "Leo...something's wrong with me..." you confessed, your head sunk in shame. "I think I'm sick..."

"Oh no," he replied worriedly, pressing a hand to your forehead. "You are kinda hot..." You blushed at the contact, feeling the heat radiating off him as he drew closer. "Hang tight, I'll go wake Donnie up, he can probably diagnose you better than I can." Just as he was about to stand and walk away, you caught him by his arm and pulled him back down.

"I-I think I might know what it is.." you trailed, humiliated to have to say it, his questioning look eating at you like vultures pecking at roadkill. "I-I think...it may be...mating season..." You felt horrendously awkward, and almost a bit frightened at the way his eyes seemed to darken at your revelation.

"Oh," he said flatly, forcing you to believe that this was a deeper topic than he was willing to delve into with you. "It is about that time, I suppose. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know what to do!" you panicked a bit. "Am I going to be okay? This has never happened before."

Unbeknownst to you, he could feel his stomach twisting at the thought you you, someone he'd been eyeing for months going through heat for the first time, so desperate and so ill-informed. "Well.." he began cautiously as he formulated a more calculated response. "What is your body telling you to do?"

You thought for a moment and collected all of your thoughts and fantasies from the last few days in order to come to a conclusion. "I think I just really...want to be a mom." you realized. "It's lest about the sex and more about the mating, I guess." Your cheeks burned just thinking of the visions you'd had, and hearing the words come out of your mouth.

"Well, I think you should give in." Leo said frankly. "It's not good to deny your body it's natural urges."

You were apprehensive to say the least. You never thought Leo of all people would encourage you to just have a baby without at least thinking about it first. "But...babies are expensive. And I don't have a mate. Plus, isn't being a ninja all about resisting temptations and stuff?"

"You worry too much." he comforted, sliding an arm around your shoulders. "I'll be your mate, I could protect and provide for our little family. Besides, all that stuff about resisting temptation doesn't apply to this. You wouldn't deny yourself food just for your ninja training would you?" You were beginning to find yourself entranced with the pheromones he was secreting, subject to suggestion, and love sick for a man you'd never once had romantic attraction to. You began to picture having a family with him; he would work all day to protect the city, and come home and play with the kids while you cooked dinner. Then at night you both would lay down and-

"Leo, I don't know about this..." you finally said, detaching yourself from the idea. "Don't you think we should get married before having kids? Or at least date?"

They'll be plenty of time for that, baby." he cooed, gently pushing your onto your back and crawling over you. "Just imagine how many cute dates we could go on while you have a bump. I could take you shopping for maternity clothes, we could do those little photo shoots where I put my head on your belly. It'll be so sweet." You were beginning to get too lost in the rose colored thoughts of having his baby to find anymore issues with the idea as he began peppering kisses all over your face.

"And then think of the dates we could take the kids on," he chuckled, trailing his lips down your throat. "Beach trips, dinners with the family, you'll love it, I promise."

"O-Okay..." you consented. "I think I'd like that." You smiled up at him as he parted form you, looming over with lustful eyes. "I wanna have a baby with you, Leo." He gave a gravelly laugh before diving back in to nip at your scaly flesh. "There's just one other thing..." you mumbled before breathy gasps.

"What's that?" he wondered, lips too preoccupied to ensure he spoke clearly.

"I'm a virgin..." you almost whispered, feeling your self esteem tank when he froze.

"That's okay baby, I'll teach you everything you need to know." he reassured. "It's so much more romantic this way, right? Your first time is with your future husband and you get pregnant from it. Couldn't be more perfect."

Taglist: @sunshinesdaydream, @thelaundrybitch, @momii, @camillahorne26, @turtle-babe83, @sharpwindow, @fyreball66, @roseygardenfan, @witchofthenorthstar, @pheradream15, @post-apocalyptic-daydream, @killmewithafanfic

#leo tmnt #leonardo #tmnt all 4 1 #tmnt all4-1 #all 4-1 challenge #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt smut #leo x reader #leo smut

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lumine-no-hikari · 28 days

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #123

Sometime after the events of yesterday, but before bed last night, J took me to the local food co-op. This is because some time ago, Br bought some boxed macaroni and cheese (henceforth shortened to mac-n-chz) that she thought was gluten-free, but wasn't. Br has a gluten allergy, but M, J, and I do not, so she gave us the boxed mac-n-chz.

It is unusual mac-n-chz, though, in that the cheese powder it comes with is made of goat's milk. Goat's milk is common in some parts of my world, but it's uncommon where I live. I don't know if you've ever had it, but I like it a lot; it has a stronger flavor than cow's milk - a bit more sour and savory, somehow. But some people really don't like it; those who don't like it would describe the flavor as "gamey", and I suppose that's fair. The sensory hardware that comes with inhabiting a flesh-vessel is different for everyone, and what is a pleasant sensory experience for someone can be an unpleasant sensory experience for someone else; it is the way of things.

I am fortunate to be one of the folks who does not dislike this flavor. So I thought to prepare the boxed mac-n-chz yesterday, because I felt awful about the bird and I thought eating something with a lot of cheese would help me feel a little better (this, too, is the way of things; I am a derpy autistic cheese goblin, after all - it is simply my nature). But the box said that it should be prepared with goat milk and goat butter. You usually can't find these things in an ordinary grocery store where I live. I was going to give up on preparing the boxed mac-n-chz yesterday, but then J encouraged me to go with him to the co-op; I guess, given my mental state, he probably thought it would have been good for me to get out of the house and get my mind off the bird. He was correct, as per usual.

…I ended up returning home with A LOT more than just goat's milk and goat's butter. I… miiiight have, in my half-numb, half-sad stupor, gotten like 3 containers of ice cream and several weird-looking potato chip flavors; I'll show you the ice cream I got tomorrow; I'm gonna put it in tea. But the potato chip flavors were "fried egg", "ham", "truffle", "garlic parmesan", and "ranch". By the time we got home, though, I had next to no energy left, so instead of preparing the mac-n-chz, J and I went to go visit Br, and that was a good time. Then we went home and watched the Fallout show with M, and that was also a good time.

…You might be pleased to know that I actually went to bed relatively on time last night. It's been a while since last that happened. I woke up feeling pretty good. I'm still really sad about the bird, of course, but I hope wherever its soul is now, it's having a fun time.

In light of yesterday's events, and in light of the fact that I didn't get to have mac-n-chz yesterday, and in light of the fact that I seem to be having some serious misgivings today about the fact that I am autistic (and therefore broadly considered creepy, unlikable, and generally socially unacceptable by default), I decided that today is an ice cream and mac-n-chz sort of day today. And… no, not in the same bowl, I promise, ahahahaha~!

I didn't eat any of the ice cream that I bought yesterday, though. No, as it turns out, my favorite bubble tea shop started serving ice cream just yesterday! Check it out:

These flavors are Jasmine Green Tea, Ube, Earl Grey Tea, and Thai Tea. And I gotta say, they were all REALLY GOOD; good enough to get past the, "oh no, it's a cold thing, and cold things feel like fire on my flesh" glitch that my body carries. I was unable to pick a favorite because they were all equally fabulous!

Hey Sephiroth? Have any of your friends ever taken you out to go get ice cream? Do you like ice cream? If you do, then what flavors do you like best? I know you can't answer me, and that kinda sucks, but I'll ask anyway; you deserve to have folks in your life who know and are willing to consider your preference and experiences. You deserve to consider your own preferences and experiences; when is the last time you thought about your favorite foods and favorite people and favorite places to go, anyway? It's good to revisit the memories and the things in our lives that bring us joy from time to time.

After I got home, I made the mac-n-chz. Do you like mac-n-chz? Have you ever had it? Have you ever prepared it? Have you ever had someone prepare it for you? I don't know the answers to these, so I'll walk you through the process, just in case; it's very simple, and the simple things are often the best things!

You start by doing the dishes! As explained some number of letters ago, I have music playing so that my brain doesn't get spooked by the fact that I'm doing a household task and accidentally do an involuntary mental time travel to a time when failing to do a housetask well enough or fast enough was a punishable offense, haha...

If you recall, this list I am using today is one that I reproduced on YouTube, just in case you might wanna give it a listen. But within this list, this item matches the inside of my mind most closely:

youtube

...And in case you're wondering why we do the dishes first, it's because the next step is to stick a pasta strainer in the sink, like this:

From there, you gotta get an ordinary pot and fill it about 2/3rds of the way with water, like this:

Then you gotta bring it to a boil. On my stove, it's easy; you just stick a lid on the pot and set the temperature of the burner to 9, and wait a little while:

While waiting for that, we can check the ingredients and instructions on the box, like so:

...Often enough, you'll end up disregarding some of these. For example, I didn't measure out the water. I did use goat's milk and goat's butter in the specified amounts, yes, but I used whole goat milk and slightly salted goat butter:

From there, we open the pasta box and take out the packets of powdered cheese:

Getting the cheese packet out of the box will make it easier to pour the noodles into the pot when the time comes!

On my stove, water takes about 20 minutes to boil, which is fine; it is common knowledge that this time passes quickly - as long as you're not watching the pot. That bit is very important; if you watch the pot, the time will instead move about as quickly as pouring molasses from a jar that has been left outside in the cold - which is to say, it won't. It's the law, and nobody knows why.

Oh hey, Sephiroth? Maybe you know why? You're over there experiencing quantum physics firsthand over at the Edge of Creation, right? Can you tell me why watched pots resist boiling? I wonder... Lemme know if you figure it out, okay?

In any case, you can put your noodles in the pot when the water reaches a rolling boil. A rolling boil looks like this:

I set the kitchen timer for 9 minutes just like the box said:

...Then I poured in the noodles!

From there, you have to stir constantly for the whole 9 minutes, or else the noodles will clump together, or stick to the bottom of the pot. You can put oil in the water to prevent this, but then the sauce won't stick to the noodles, and that is not ideal. Once the timer is done, you taste-test one of the noodles to make sure it's good:

9 minutes wasn't long enough to cook the noodles all the way through, so I gave it another 3 minutes; it was good after that.

The next step is to dump the contents of the pot into the strainer we prepared in the sink earlier. But this pot is kinda stupid (I need a new one) because the handles get really hot when you heat it up. So I put on my handy-dandy oven mitts:

...Mine are really long because I am dyspraxic; the possibility of burning my forearms on the heating elements when I put things into the oven or take things out of the oven is a real concern. So it's best to protect my whole forearm instead of just my hands, so that way I don't get hurt. Besides, if I put on my oven mitts and also my onion-cutting-goggles while holding my ceramic chef's knife, I can cackle maniacally in the kitchen like a crazed scientist and accidentally scare the socks off of passers-by near my window, and that's always a nice bonus! 🤪🤣 (Speaking of disturbing passers-by near my kitchen window, I am remembering this one time, when J and I were in the kitchen, and he was heckling me about the fact that I need to eat more fruit, so just to be silly, I started eating a banana in the most wildly inappropriate way I possibly could, just as some poor gentleman was dropping off food that M ordered. The flabbergasted look on the man's face as he peered into our window was ABSOLUTELY. PRICELESS!! Ahahahahaaaa~! 🤣🤣🤣)

(But that's what you get for peering into people's windows, so no, I am absolutely not sorry!!! Not even the tiniest little bit!!! 😂😂😂)

Anyway! So I drained the pasta:

From there, the bottom of the pot will still be warm, so you can use that to melt the butter; I am making two boxes of mac-n-chz, so we need 2 tablespoons of butter:

...Two boxes of this mac-n-chz calls for 8 tablespoons of milk; that's the same thing as half a cup:

Then you'll dump in the cheese packets, and use a whisk to make a sauce:

Then, you dump your noodles in and mix 'em up with the sauce:

...Finally, we have the bowl of mac-n-chz that I very much wish I could give to you:

...It's a simple and easy thing; not the fanciest. But it's still good. It's still wholesome. It's still full of love and joy. What I wouldn't give just to be able to hand you a bowl of this...

...Well, it is what it is. And all I can do is deal with it in the way that I know how. All I can do is write to you and hope that it gets through to you somehow...

...somehow...

...OH! I almost forgot!! On the way to do errands and get ice cream, the sky was really nice today, and I also saw a bumblebee! I know you like nature, so I thought to snap a couple pictures for you:

...ya know... just to remind you that the world is beautiful. Even when it's filled with senseless pain, even when people respond with rage and self-directed violence when you try to set a boundary, and even when your brain is being mean and trying to tell you that everything is hopeless. It's still beautiful when people tell you, directly or indirectly, that you don't belong, or that your words and the contents of your mind are less valuable than your physical vessel.

This world is still beautiful no matter how hard it tries to break you. And there is beauty within persisting, within refusing to stay on the ground, within rising up from your knees and choosing to live in wholesome love and joy. There is beauty within counting on the people around you and seeing through eyes other than your own when you can't muster up the strength by yourself.

Sephiroth, please don't give up. Because, yes, I know there's violence and greed and bloodshed and unimaginable amounts of suffering in this place. But there's also bumblebees and mac-n-chz and ice cream and tea and sunshine and the sky, and people who would do anything to give you these things, if only they could. And these things are worth fighting for. You just gotta open your eyes and set them on a new horizon.

I'll be right here until you come back, okay? I'll keep being right here, calling out to you, singing you a little song, and thinking of you anytime I get to experience wholesome, beautiful things. I'll be waiting right here, no matter how long it takes.

I love you, and I'll write again soon. Please stay safe.

Your friend, Lumine

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cas-mentalynothereeee · 6 months

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Here is a skk fic im working on. Its a little strange because its the first one i did and i have it switching POVs so im sorry if thats annoying.

TWS- Men being queer, Being really sick, Throwing up, suicidal topics

Dazai POV:

"At-su-shiii.."

I said looking at the boy who was sweating nervously.

"Y..yes dazai san..?"

Atsushi asked me.

"Youuuu should do my paperwork for me!"

I smiled widely at him.

"Dazai san I have a life too you know. I can’t always do it for you.."

Atsushi said, smiling warmly as he declined my request.

"Very well..I guess I'll be here late.."

I chuckle to myself as I do work for once in my life..

It was around midnight when I finished the stacks of paper I had let build up on my desk…

I sighed and stretched…That's when I felt a pain in my side..

It was probably nothing. I thought as I grabbed my things and closed up the office.

As I walked home though I had a headache and I felt a bit warm.

I assumed it was just the weather changing or seasonal allergies, nothing too bad…

But oh boy. Was I wrong.

3rd person POV:

As Dazai walked to work the next day he felt incredibly ill..the headache he hoped would go away after sleep did not. And he felt very hot, in fact he was so hot he didn't even grab his trenchcoat that he is almost never seen without. As he entered the agency he almost collapsed in his chair. Sitting down with a loud groan. "You good dazai?"

Ranpo asked, it came out a bit muffled as a lollipop was in his mouth.

"Yes..Im okay"

Dazai says resting his head on the edge of the desk. The desk was cold which made his warm head feel better.

"I should get doctor Yosano. You look like you need a check up."

Kenji said, smiling as he jumped up and ran to the infirmary.

-20 minutes later-

Dazai had been sat at the cot as Yosano did a check up on him.

"Dazai. Why the hell did you come to work today with a temperature of 98°??"

"I'm just a little sick, it's fine."

Dazai said, holding his chest tightly.

"Go home dazai. This is bad..I can drive you there but you're super ill."

She said resting a hand on his shoulder. Dazai flinched back.

"I’m fine. Yosano. I appreciate the care. But I don't need it. I'm just a bit sick. I will be fine."

Dazai goes to stand up but quickly falls back onto the bed as his legs are too weak to hold him up.

"See. You're sick."

"Just because I fell doesn't mean I'm sick."

Dazai snapped back. He wasn't usually like this. But he just felt angry for no reason..

"Dazai. I'll have Atsushi walk you home.. I just remembered I have work.. And you're not fighting me on this. You're going home."

Yosano said in a tone that gave even dazai chills.

"Very well."

He sighed upset.

A few moments later he was walking with Atsushi. Leaning on him for support.

"Are you sure you're alright Dazai-San?"

Atsushi asked worry hinted in his tone

"Yes. I'm fine. I'm just a little sick.."

Dazai said. Anger hinted in his voice. He wasn't sure where the anger was coming from but it was there..

Eventually dazai convinced Atsushi he would be alright. And that he could leave himself alone. Once dazai was alone however. He felt ill. He didn't know what he did that could have gotten him this sick. He thought back on the days. Maybe it was the water from that drowning attempt. Maybe it was the raw fish in the sushi he convinced Kunikida to buy. Maybe just maybe it was chibi.

"I bet his terrible attitude has made me ill"

Dazai said to himself resting on the cold tile floor to make his warm body feel better.

He laid there for a while. Every time he tried to move he felt as if he was going to throw up. He didn't want to take any medications as he had too big of an ego for that.

As his mind rambled he kept going back to the thought of chuuya. Maybe he would help… This thought caused dazai to laugh out loud which he regretted instantly as a pain filled his chest. The floor suddenly felt too hot to lay on. He pushed himself up and wobbled to the bathroom.

He sat next to the toilet, his knees to his chest as he hid his mouth in his arms trying not to throw up. He felt hot and cold at the same time. He wanted to just die already. This pain was unbearable. Not only that but everytime he breathed his stomach churned and cramped…

"Ughh.."

He groaned.

"Fuck this hurts alot…"

He whined leaning his head into his arms. His sick fatigued body just wanted rest. Eventually he fell asleep laying on some bath mats in the bathroom.

-3 AM that morning-

He woke up to his stomach spinning. He felt himself gag. And start breathing heavily. He leaned over the toilet as he gagged. But nothing came out. His throat hurt as tears filled up the corners. He never cried. No matter the pain. But his sick body wouldn't let him hold back his emotions. Eventually after what seemed like forever he finally threw up.. he leaned over the toilet after still breathing heavily. He knew that he should tell someone he threw up. But he really didn't want pity right now. So he did the logical thing.

Call the one person who couldn’t care less.

Nakahara Chuuya.

Chuuya POV:

I was sitting on my bed mindlessly scrolling on my phone because…I wanted to. When A certain Mackerel called me.

naturally like any good person would.

I declined it.

My day had been good, it's not gonna get worse.. I went back to scrolling then he called again….And again….And again…

"Jesus..what the hell does he even need?"

I said as I stared at the ringing phone

"...."

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT SHITTY MACKEREL?!"

I yelled as I answered the phone.

"H..Heyyyy Chi-"

Dazai was cut off by a gag. Then I heard the sounds of throwing up.

"oh fuck. Gross."

I said, holding my hand over my mouth.

"Sorry chibi.."

He coughed as he spoke.

"You sound like shit."

I say holding my stomach with one hand.

"Yeah. I couldn't tell…Anyway. You should. Come over and help me out..Please."

Dazai said. He sounded like he meant it. But I bet he was just fucking with me.

"Sorry. You're sick. You deal with it. Goodbye."

I said hanging up, not listening to him.

I sat there for a few minutes staring at the end call screen. I thought about his voice. The sounds. Everything sounded legit…Maybe he was sick…No that's not possible, Dazai never gets sick that badly. Besides, he would've called someone more important. Like the agency..Or I don't know. Not me. He knows I dont give a shit. I mean. It’s not like I'm actually gonna go help. He doesn't deserve it. He left me alone. Why should I help?

3rd person POV:

Dazai sat on the floor of the bathroom. The same spot he had been for the past 8 hours. When there was a knock at his door. He forced himself up using the bathtub as support as he slowly walked to the front door.

He slowly cracked it. And there stood a ginger. Short as can be looking as grumpy as ever. He opened the door more still Leaning on it for full support.

"Hey there chibi…"

Dazai said in a hoarse voice.

"Move you suicidal Maniac."

Chuuya said walking past dazai. He went straight to the kitchen and grabbed something. Dazai sat at the couch and leaned on the armrest.

A few moments later chuuya came back with some water and a container of medicine.

"Take it you fucking fish."

He said holding the water cup and pills in front of dazai.

"No..I don't need them."

Chuuya stared at the man who just threw up on a call not even 30 minutes ago.

"Dazai just take the fucking medication. It will help I swear."

Chuuya said, holding the pills closer to dazai's face.

"No. I don't need them. I told you I'll be okay without them."

Dazai said, looking away from the ginger with a pouty face. Chuuya sighed in anger.

"Fine"

Chuuya said, taking a gulp of water and putting the pills in his mouth. He had to be quick so they didn’t disintegrate in the water.

He grabbed Dazai by the chin, forcing his face to look at him. Then with no explanation kissed dazai. Dazai made a small grunt which was enough to get chuuya to get the pills in dazai's mouth. Dazai swallowed and pulled back breathing heavily.

"Ugh. Fuck you. It would've been easier if you took them normally."

Chuuya said, crossing his arms and walking back to the kitchen.

Dazai just sat there confused and a bit warm although he was sure he had broken the fever…

Chuuya stayed in the kitchen screaming at himself on the inside. He had no idea why the hell he kissed dazai. He tried convincing himself it wasn't a kiss it was merely a mouth to mouth like lifeguards do. He needed to help so that's why he did that. <I know what you are, chuuya>. Chuuya heard dazai groan and walked back over to him.

"Why are you making so much noise..Just die slowly."

Chuuya said sitting on the couch a few spots away separating the two.

"Gee thanks chibi."

Dazai said, leaning back on the sofa.

"What's wrong with you anyway P.O.S?"

Chuuya asked, looking at the unnaturally super pale brunette.

"I'm sick, what else shorty?" Dazai said looking at him dead faced then going back to holding his stomach. Chuuya stared at the brunette then scoffed looking away.

“Your an ass you know that”

He grumbled. Dazai coughed and gave a weak smile.

“Yeah I know”

Chuuya looked at Dazai. He watched the brunette shiver.

“Are you cold?”

Chuuya asked, looking at him with a raised brow. Dazai was holding his chest shivering.

“No, I'm okay.”

Dazai lied holding himself tightly. Chuuya stared at the brunette. He sighed and moved closer to the taller one holding him tightly in a warm embrace. Dazai’s eyes widened as the ginger held him.

“What the hell are you doing chibi?!”

He said trying to move but his fatigued body combined with the Chuuya tight hold on him, He couldn't.

“Shut up mackerel. You are freezing. So stop being a little bitch and stay here.”

Chuuya grumbled leaning back holding the taller one’s back while Dazai laid there on his chest shivering.

Dazai POV:

I laid there on Chibi's chest listening to his heartbeat. As much as I hated it. It was warm… Ugh this slug is gonna get it when I feel better.

“You slug this is gay”

“Shut the fuck up.”

I grumbled something then went back to listen to his heart beat. It was a good distraction from my stomach hurting.

Eventually I fell asleep…

-One hour later-

I woke up still cuddled with Chuuya. Who seemed to be still asleep. I managed to get up without waking him. Which wasn't hard cause he was such a deep sleeper. I walked to the bathroom. And looked in the mirror. My hair had been a mess, it was all disheveled and greasy. My face looked paler than usual, I had sunken cheekbones and My eye bags were far worse than they usually are. I turned the faucet on and put warm water on my face. I looked back up at the mirror.

Chuuya POV:

I woke up to a loud crashing sound from the bathroom. I shot up from the couch and noticed Dazai wasn't sitting there.

“That shitty mackerel.”

I grumbled walking to the bathroom. I tried to open the door but it was locked,

“Hey open the door Dazai.”

I said jiggling the handle. There was just silence back.

“Dazai im not fucking joking open the door.”

I said forcefully trying to open it.

“DAZAI OPEN THE DOOR”

I yelled banging on the door again.

Still no answer. I stood there conflicted. Do I leave him alone or do I try to open it..

"This bitch better be dying or I'm gonna be pissed."

I grumbled kicking the door, It flew open. And I saw Dazai leaning over the bathtub. He had a pair of scissors in his hand and bandages were on the floor.

"...."

I stood there. Shaking. I stared at him, my legs not moving. Finally my legs let me move. I ran over pulling him into my lap. As I did this I saw blood on his head. With cuts all on his wrists. He was breathing. Barely.

"Dazai..What the fuck."

I said, still shaking. I held him tight to my chest. Eventually after I gathered myself I sat him up against the wall. And grabbed some bandages laying on the floor. I wrapped them along his arms and around his head.

"Chibi?"

He muttered, opening his eyes to me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

I said holding his face with my hands.

“I didn't mean to fall…”

He said looking at me with a sly smile. It was definitely faked.

“FALL? THAT'S NOT WHAT I'M WORRIED ABOUT DUMBASS.”

I yelled, holding him tighter.

"Do you know how fucking worried I was?! And I'm never worried about you."

I yelled, holding his face tight. He just stared at me. With those stupid brown eyes.

"I'm sorry Chuuya."

He said resting his hands on mine. I scoffed.

"It's gonna take a lot more than an apology."

I said narrowing my eyes at him

"To bad im sick I had just the idea"

He said with a sly smile. I stared at him unphased

"I hate you. Now take your medicine." I said picking him up as if he was a wet cat. He squirmed a bit. I ignored it.

"Take it."

I said handing it to him. After twenty minutes of arguing he took the medicine. He fell asleep shortly after. I sighed as I looked at the bandages on his body.

“Stupid mackerel.”

I mumbled holding him close.

3rd person POV:

Chuuyas phone rang for the 5th time. He finally woke up and answered it.

“What.”

He grumbled as dazai rested on him.

“You havent shown up to work in 3 days what the fuck!? Where are you?!””

A worried yet angry female yelled. Chuuyas eyes widened.

“3 days?! Shit has it really been that long….”

He mumbled.

“Sorry Kouyou.. I've been helping a friend out….”

He sighed, rubbing his head.

“You? Help someone?”

She scoffed.

“I’ll let Mori know you're busy for the rest of the day. But you Have to come in soon.”

She sighs hanging up. Chuuya put his phone away and rested against the couch.

“Those detectives are probably worried…Maybe I should call them…”

He muttered. Suddenly a knock was heard at the door. He looked at dazai and carefully moved him. He walked over to the door yawning. He cracked open the door so only a bit of his face was seen.

“Hello? Dazai-San?”

A voice said shakily. Chuuya opened the door.

“Dazai is resting. What can I do for you atsushi?”

He says looking at him with a small smile on his face. Atsushi gasped a bit, probably surprised that a port mafia executive was there. But he relaxed a bit and smiled.

“Hello Chuuya-San.”

He said with a small bow.

“What do you need, kid?”

“I was just checking on Dazai-San, he hasn't answered any calls. And he hasn't showed up to work..”

He mumbled rubbing the back of his head nervously.

“Yeah..He got pretty sick. But he is doing better..”

Chuuya said, looking the weretiger up and down.

“Oh! That's great!”

He smiled a big smile causing chuuya to chuckle. Thinking of last night. That was not a “Great” Experience. But he didn't want to worry the tiger.

“Indeed. I would let you in. But I would have to check with dazai and he is still asleep.”

Chuuya gives a small smile. Just then a hand wrapped around his waist (atsushi couldn't see)

“Hello atsushi”

A weak voice came from dazai who had rested his chin on chuuyas shoulder.

“Dazai?!”

Atsushi and Chuuya said in surprise.

“Why aren't you sleeping…”

Chuuya said, side eyeing him.

“Cause I don't wanna,”

He said with a sly smile before directing his attention to Atsushi.

“Hello ‘sushi”

He smiles weakly

“Hello Dazai! Are you feeling better?”

“I am thank you.”

Dazai smiles, tightening his grip on Chuuyas waist earning a small grunt from Chuuya who tried to hide it as a cough.

“Well I brought you some soup if you want some”

He smiled while holding it out to Chuuya and Dazai.

“Ah thank you Atsushi”

Chuuya smiled while taking the soup. They all said goodbye and closed the door.

#WIP #skk #dazai doesn't have cancer.#its so bad tbh #idk what im doing tbh #i wrote half of this while i was sick and tried.

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frenchibi · 1 year

Note

I hope it’s not too much but! For the ask game: 1 9 15 39 50 53 70 84 99 100 Hope you have a nice day!~

Hahaha, not at all, anon, I don't mind! Thank you for asking :D I'm going to put these under a cut though, since I like to ramble and this will be quite long to scroll past otherwise :)

What’s your middle name, and do you like it?

It's Johanna, after my grandmother, who passed away ten years ago. I do like the name, and I like that it connects me to her :) I also recently learned that my first name is the "female version" of my grandfather's legal first name (he went by his middle name, and I only learned that when he passed away this year), so that's pretty cool too :)

9. Do you have any cool talents?

So... I think I am pretty good at a fair number of things, but. I am really good at parking. I enjoy driving a lot, and as an Oldest Sister(TM) I was (and sometimes still am) always driving my siblings places, so I got a lot of practice - and I have always lived in places with very limited parking, so I have gotten very good at it by necessity. I can parallel park anywhere, and have literally squeezed into spots with five centimeters to spare. I am very confident in this ability and I think it's a very useful talent lmao

15. What’s the best dream you’ve had?

I... don't really remember my dreams, and most of my dreams are kind of stressful and confusing xD Sorry, don't have a cool story here ^^

39. Favourite singer?

Oooh, ooh, a juicy question - and one I find really difficult to answer! I always feels so... unprepared, when people ask me about music, even though I do have lots of opinions...? I feel like this also depends on the genre, if it's opera or musical theater or pop or rock music... I definitely have more than one. I'd probably find it easier to talk about bands I currently am into, or something? Sorry, I know this is a non-answer dhfhhkdfk feel free to ask a more specific question and I will do my best to actually find people to respond with :'D

50. How are you doing today?

I'm alright! I just got home from tech rehearsal for our choir concert tomorrow (it went really badly hahaha - but they say if the final rehearsal sucks, the concert will be good, so, eh?) so I'm quite exhausted... but I had a nice morning, my partner and I made French toast for breakfast and went to the gym even though we were both feeling pretty groggy - I'm glad we went though, I felt better afterwards ^^

53. Is there anything you do that you can’t remember ever not doing?

Singing! And talking. I was apparently THE chattiest baby - I was speaking way earlier than kids normally do (but refused to crawl at all lmao just. lots to say but no places to be apparently) and was super interesed in words from before I can remember :) Also learned to read really early, and to write! Which I have always loved, and still do. Singing has always been a thing in the home I grew up in - and now I'm getting qualifications to be a voice teacher, so I'm coming full-circle I think :)

70. What would you change about your life if you knew you would never die?

Oh, that depends - am I the only one who will never die? What about my family? My friends? I'm sorry I need to know more about this hypothetical hsadjfklahsdjk does my back pain also stay forever? My allergies? My dizziness? Seriously though, I don't think knowing when I'll die or even if I'll die would not change much about my behavior. I generally try to do more good than I do harm, and I like to tell people honestly how I feel, especially if I appreciate them. And that's it xD

84. If you could time travel, would you go to the past or the future?

Not to be a boring square here but... the idea of time travel terrifies me. Like, as a narrative device or plot point? Cool. But I personally would not want to go anywhere. If I HAD to - as close as possible to now. I'd go back to last week, or ahead one week. I don't think I would do well in the distant past, and the future I don't want to know about until I get there. What if I go to the future and find out something horrible will happen, but I can't stop it? No. No no no no thanks :')

99. Is there a feeling you are trying to ignore? What is it?

I am always, always, always worrying. I can't really turn it off, I think worrying is natural when you care about things (and I notoriously care way too much about way too many things. It is what it is) so I am mainly trying to get stuff done without being overwhelmed :') It sounds a lot worse than it is, though.

100. Do you live or do you just exist?

I am for sure living, not just existing. I like being an active agent in my own life, and bringing positive things to the lives of people I care about. When I am at my worst, it is because I feel I am just existing and letting things pass me by. Sometimes I get overwhelmed, but I am also always trying to find beauty in things, focus on small joys on purpose, and be kind to myself.

These were really fun, thank you!!

Prompt list here - send me an ask!

#French speaks #ask game #answered #anon #These were so fun!!!#Ask me stuff :D #It really has been so long since I've been chatty on tumblr haahah

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ftb-writes · 2 years

Text

It's prompt fill time!

The next prompt is another one of my own design.

The package says they are cherry flavoured, but the cough drop has the same artificial taste as a cherry Twizzler. I never really liked Twizzlers, and my mind is screaming at me to spit the cough drop out, but my allergy-induced bronchitis whispers 'more’.

It's only 8 o'clock, and Ryan is drunk. To be fair, the poor bastard had just gotten dumped by his girl -- cheating on him with his boss, no less -- and then got fired. By the boss Sharon was cheating on him with. He at least has a really strong case for a wrongful termination lawsuit, but he is getting drunk tonight.

Ryan is one of the regulars at the bar, and his favorite spot happened to be the next stool down from my favorite spot. Ryan and I had been old buddies for a few years now, what with our favorite spots putting us next to each other most nights drinking.

I feel bad for him. Ryan is a good guy, and made good money. His only problem was that he wouldn't blow his whole paycheck on his girl who didn't have a job of her own. Smart on his part, really, now.

"Two more for over here, Jim," I tell my favorite bartender, motioning between Ryan and I. "That's bullshit, man," I offered to Ryan. "That lawyer of yours is gonna have a field day, but it's bullshit. Imagine how funny it'll be when your boss's boss fires him for fucking it up so bad and re-hires you, she'll probably come crawling back. And what're you gonna say?"

"Yeah, babe," Ryan slurs sadly.

"No," I order gently. "You're gonna tell her to pound sand. You don't need that shit."

"Dun need that shiii--" Ryan hiccups hard and leans into me. "Jeez, Mike, I'm so friggin glad to have you."

I roll my eyes and pat his back, nodding to Jim. "Yeah buddy, you're damn lucky. Okay, nevermind on the shot for you. I'm gonna have both these and get you home."

"Home's lonely," Ryan slurs. "Why don't I go home with you?"

I choke on the second shot and cough a bit before I hear Ryan snoring. Of course.

I tell Jim I'll see him later and get Ryan into a taxi and tell his snoring ass he's lucky we live in the same building while I the driver the apartment number. The entire drive, Ryan is curled into my side snoring softly. It's cute, and I feel bad for the thought. He doesn't deserve this crap.

I manage to wake him up a bit when we stop, so I'm lucky to not have to drag him up the stairs. I get him into his door, tell him to drink some water and eat something, and head up to my own apartment.

The next morning, I knock on Ryan's door, and he lets me in and thanks me profusely for getting him home and not letting him make too much of an ass of himself.

"I was really drunk. I said a lot of shit I shouldn't have. So thanks."

"Better to say what you need to while you're drunk and have plausible deniability." I hold out the little pill bottle. "Figured you'd want an Advil."

Ryan shakes his head. "I had some. But. Um. Listen, Mike. I want to make an offer. You were right, I'm probably gonna get my job back, or a similar one for the same kinda pay, but I don't… do well, alone. So I wanted to see if you maybe wanted to get a place together. As roomies. You've been my best friend for years now."

I eye him for a moment. He looks a bit embarrassed. "You don't really want to be roommates."

Ryan sags. "I like you. I'm sorry. You were better to me than she ever was, and I just… last night just kind of made it more apparent. But if you only want to be roommates, that's cool. I was gonna test the waters after we'd moved in together."

I set a hand on his arm. "I'm flattered. I am. But… my husband probably wouldn't be too happy."

Mike's eyes get huge. "Oh. Shit. Um. Nevermind then."

"He'd be happier if you moved in with both of us," I continued, and settled closer to him. "Jim."

"The bartender? What about him?"

"That's my husband."

Ryan starts laughing. "Okay. Okay, I guess we're moving in together. Shit. This isn't how I expected this to go. Wow. It's crazy unfair, both of you being so good-looking."

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tatarynovich · 2 years

Text

Allergy

I was laying oh the hospital bed in a waiting area and the only thought was: what a stupid first-world problem.

Suspected allergic reaction to a tropical fruit. Bought for 17 EUR and brought as a gift by friends. From a sunny island of Madeira. Eaten (tried rather, it was a very small piece) despite hundreds of "why would you do that to your body"'s from my wife.

After they take blood and EKG tests, they roll you out to a waiting room, where you … wait.

In front of me was lying an old man, too tired to pull himself up on a hospital bed.

Another was a man with MS who hurt his shoulder. The guy's german wasn't too good (100x better than mine though) and by accent I figured he must be american. The guy looked like a kind of man who has his shit together, lives in a nice 3-room altbau, and doesn't need any hair care routine - it just looks gorgeous because it does.

To the right was a drunk German-Russian dude, who stood up and started taking out catheters from his arms, bleeding all over the floor. Apparently he had more important things to do.

Oh I wish I didn't eat that shit.

Swollen tongue, difficulty swallowing, heart beat going up and down - is it the allergy or me overthinking and stressing out? Probably both.

It was almost embarrassing explaining to each new doctor what happened. "I tried a tropical fruit". In German "tropical fruit" sounds particularly funny.

Blood test results didn't show anything abnormal. EKG and blood oxygen were totally fine. The only two possible reasons for what I was feeling were either an allergic reaction, or that I am an overstressed bitch. Again, it's probably both.

4 hours in a hospital, a shot of cortisol to weaken allergic symptoms, and I'm back home. What do we learn from this situation.

Lesson one - never again eat this shit. In fact, never again eat shit which looks like it shouldn't be eaten. My old approach was YOLO, I'll regret it if I won't try. My new approach is I'd rather live. Don't. Eat. That. Shit. Not worth it.

Which leads to a bigger lesson. To truly experience the importance of good health I had to almost lose it. To truly feel how much I need my wife ... that's a story for another time.

The feeling may not be objective. Maybe in reality the allergy wasn't that serious. Judging by how slow doctors were around me, my case barely deserved their attention. But it has to feel real enough, scare you enough, to feel like you’re about to step over the edge.

Everybody asks what the fruit tastes like. Not good enough.

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rouge-variant · 2 years

Note

Hey, how are you? I'm feeling a little sick and it got me thinking: imagine Levi being with a reader that's a clean and neat freak like him and people also make fun of her but she's actually the way she is because she used to get sick a lot when she was younger but still had to go to work because she was poor and couldn't afford to get a day off. Now she makes sure she never gets sick because then she'll feel useless and fears loosing her place in the scouts.

Oh no! I hope you feel better quickly! I'm so sorry this took so long, I tried to have this done ASAP so that it would help you feel better. Thanks for your request and I hope you enjoy!!!

Levi Ackerman x Reader: Sick but Still Splendid

"You're pale, shivering despite wearing two hoodies and you've been blowing your nose every five minutes. How else can I tell you that you're sick?" Levi leaned against his desk, giving you an unamused look as you put down the crate of things you had to work through. You opened your mouth to protest but it seems your body wanted to support Levi as you started coughing. He raised an eyebrow waiting for you to defend yourself after adding yet another indication that you were sick, to the list. You frowned rubbing your throat and trying again.

"I'll be fine. It could just be allergies" you shrugged. You knew every well that these were way too severe to be common allergies. You knew you were sick but you were terrified about taking the day off. The Scout were extremely busy right now and you didn't want someone to end up overworking themselves because you have the sniffles. You were used to working even when you were sick from when you were younger. How would you know if things have changed since then? It probably hasn't and you don't have the time or energy to risk finding out.

"Y/n, you look like you're going to pass out. Take a break" Levi urged and you still refused. You could tell Levi was starting to lose his patience with you. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"When you finish your crate you are off for the remainder of the day. If you start working on anything else, I'm locking you in my office until this blows over" he threatened weakly and you rolled your eyes. Levi left you after that. Despite his bitter attitude towards you, he was going to go make something warm for your throat.

None of this makes sense. You were extremely careful when it comes to your health. People mocked you and teased you because your cleaning habits are very similar to his, sometimes even better. Based on what he knows about you right now, he just assumed you had a fear of getting sick but no reason for it. But if that was the case, then why were you pushing yourself so hard if your sick already. You were only going to make yourself feel worse.

While the water was boiling, Levi thought more about what could've led to you always pushing yourself. You were in the higher portion of the average academic strength as well as the physical strength portion. You had the respect of most of the superiors in the Scouts as well as the other regiments. You shouldn't have the feeling of needing to prove yourself based on that. Maybe it was just an insecurity or maybe there was more to the story. He would ask you about it since he didn't want to start assuming the wrong thing.

Shortly afterwards, he returned to the office, nudging it open with his foot.

"You look lovely," he said sarcastically and you glared. You were currently crumpled on the floor, hand on your forehead trying to soothe the dizziness and headache setting in. Normally, you had a snarky remark or just laugh it off but you really felt like crap and you finished hardly anything in the fifteen minutes he was gone. So you couldn't hold back the tears. They started running down your face but you didn't have the energy to wipe them away so instead you hid your head in your knees. You weren't crying because of what Levi said, you knew he was only joking. You were crying because you thought you had just lost your position in the Scouts.

"Alright, these can wait" Levi decides, placing the tray containing the tea onto his desk then moving back to kneel in front of you. He worked the paper out of your clenched fist and put everything onto the coffee table. You no longer protested as you didn't have the energy and let Levi fuss over you. He picked you up and brought you over to the shared bed, setting you down nicely to remove your straps, belts and buckles. Once you were freed from the uncomfortable leather, he went to grab the tray and the two tablets sitting on a napkin.

"Take these and drink this. I'll finish your wor-" he set the tray down within your reach and you panicked, interrupting him.

"N-no, I can do it. I'm fine. I can still work. I just got a little dizzy but I'm fi-" this time he cut you off.

"What has got you working yourself to death like this, even when you're sick?" he asked gently knowing that this was probably a sensitive topic. You opened and closed your mouth as the words died in your throat.

"I don't want to lose my position. I can work still. I've been in worse shape and still continued on" you mumbled and Levi's eyes widened. He wasn't expecting you to open up this quickly but he was glad you did.

"This is a story for another time when you're not stuffed up and paler than a ghost. But I can guarantee that you aren't going to get in trouble for taking a sick day. You won't lose your position and you most certainly won't get kicked out of the Scouts" he passed you your medication and tea. His voice was soft and understanding since he often does this to himself as well.

Once you took your medication, he gently pushed you down into the plush pillows and blanket.

"And if everyone ever gives you grief about it, come see me. I'll settle it. This doesn't make anyone think less of you. If anything, they might even respect you more since you can take care of everyone else and still can take care of yourself too. Besides, I needed another punishment since Eren and Jean destroyed the newly organized supply closet" he threw a joke in there, drawing a smile from your tired face. He tucked you then patted your head gently as you lost the fight with your exhaustion and slipped into a gentle sleep.

"Sleep well Y/n...feel better my love" he smiled softly at you. He then washed his hands to ensure that he limits the risk of himself getting sick, then goes to deliver the new batch of work to his rowdy cadets. Levi gave your sleeping form one more loving glance as he admired how amazing of a person you were and wondered how he ended up with an angel like you.

#levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman drabble #levi ackerman x reader fluff #aot x reader #levi ackerman x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman #aot x y/n #levi x reader #drabbles

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iwaisuke · 3 years

Text

confessions; but not remembering it

ft. kita shinsuke, sakusa kiyoomi x sick fem!reader

genre: fluff

masterlist

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and then i rushed bc i was getting tired 🙃 also. sakusa's is a little ooc. sorry ab that

-» ˚⸙͎۪۫⋆

» the clean yet musty smell of rain filled the gym as the boys practiced. it was a surprisingly humid and rainy spring day today here in the country side of hyogo

» "achoo" you had been sneezing and coughing all day. you also had a terrible headache but took some medicine to see if it would help. the spring allergies really getting to you

» you didnt reay have the time to be worrying about yourself. As a 2nd year manager of the inarizaki team, (recommend by suna) and the boys working so hard practicing for nationals there was no way you'd let this little cold get in the way. you had to work just as hard as everyone else!

» "hold on, im about to hang up your jerseys to dry"

» "i got you guys some fresh towels!"

» "i can run and grab that coach. im headed that way anyways"

» the coach called for a short break to rest up for a bit. everyone was sore and exhausted from practicing every day. "here. i filled your water bottles up!" handing them to all the boys. "y/n you're all wet" akagi sounded concerned.

» "hm? oh its alright. I'll dry off in a minute. i took the shortcut to the drinking fountain to refill your waterbottles instead of taking the long way" you nonchalantly said. "so you ran through the rain like an idiot?" suna threw a clean towel over your damp hair and ruffled it. "suna!! stop!! you're gonna ruin my hair"

» "like i said. its alright" you reassured the boys.

» kita, on the other hand had noticed your fatigue. although he wasnt as perceptive on peoples feeling and thoughts as well as others, he could easily pick up signs like yours. he admired you dearly for how hard you always work for the team. how you willingly did anything to make them smile. how you always put others first before yours. needless to say, he had a bit of a crush on you.

» "l/n san. i think you should take a break too. there's no need for you to be running around for us while we're resting" kita assured you. "i still have a few things left on my list to do.. but afterwards I'll take a break!" kita let out a sigh. you were stubborn sometimes and kita knew you were the kind of person to not stop until you're finished.

» "I'll be right back. i gotta grab the laundry"

» making an excuse to leave, your heart was beating fast. you knew kita's words were the kind he'd say to anyone, but it made your heart feel fuzzy when he'd look out for you.

» the stone cold captain who you thought he was, actually was so kind. he was just a little awkward like you, and a little blunt with what he said sometimes. but you learned the great qualities he carries and how much he actually cares about others well being. he was a hard worker and you couldnt help but absentmindedly fall for the captain.

» running up the stairs to the second floor of the gym, you felt a shift in your step. head becoming dizzier than it was just 5 minutes ago. legs trembling, you started falling before feeling a presence behind.

» kita's arm wrapped around your waist, supporting you in efforts to not letting you fall over. "i told you to rest l/n san" kita said sternly. "you wont benefit anyone if you keep overworking like this."

» you knew kita was right, but you really didnt want to rest knowing you'll be letting the team down by not working hard.

» "i promise I'll rest as soon as im done with this one thing" pleading with kita. he let out a sigh, knowing you really wouldnt until you did finish so he allowed you to do so.

» finishing grabbing all of the dry jerseys and bringing them downstairs to pass out to everyone, you didnt really notice atsumu and osamu spiking volleyballs at each other until aran yelled

» "y/n! watch out!" honestly, you were too tired to move out of the way so you figured, it do be like that sometimes, and allowed the ball to hit you.

» or... so you had planned the ball to hit you.

» kita stood in front, blocking the impact of the spike that you had prepared yourself for. there was agitation in kita's eyes. more than you usually noticed when then twins were miss behaving. concern washing over, he looked you straight in the eyes

» "... is there something wrong kita san?" lifting up his hand to your forehead, he let out a sigh. "why didnt you tell me earlier you had a fever", then walking over to the coach meanwhile atsumu and osamu come over to apologise for being reckless.

» "get your stuff. we're going home" kita said bluntly.

» "huh? but practice is-"

» "please l/n san. for me"

» kita would only take yes for an answer this time. no if's ands or buts. so here you were, walking home with kita. only the sound of raindrops hitting your shared umbrella being heard.

» muscles starting to ache a little more and your legs becoming more tired than they were when you left the gym, you began to walk a little slower every step

» "get on my back l/n" "its ok kita san, i can walk. its already enough that you're walking me home" "i didnt ask if you wanted to. im telling you to"

» you couldnt tell if it was the fever that made your face warmer or if it was kita's words. nonetheless, you got on kita's back. he was a lot stronger than he looked and you couldnt help but stifen at being so close to your own crush like this.

» "relax. I'll make sure you get home." he reassured. you leaned into his back, warmth seeping in, your eyes began to feel heavy.

» "kita san" "yes?" "thank you for always watching out for me"

» a comfortable silence was met as the sound of rain filled your ears.

» "kita san" "hm?" "did you know..." your voice softened "i like you a lot kita san"

» did he hear you correctly? if he wasnt paying attention he wouldve missed what you had said, being drowed out through the pitter patter of water. now his heart thumping louder than ever before.

» "l/n san-" he was about to go on but was met with the gentle rise and fall of your chest and the soft snores of you on his back, knocked out from exertion. kita let out a light chuckle, finally relieved you were resting.

» you had missed the next day of school, but when you came back the whole volleyball team bombarded you with love.

» "WE'RE A FAILURE TO NOT NOTICE YOU FEELING SICK" atsumu cried. "how could we let our one and only precious manager get ill for taking care of us" akagi, clearly dissapointed in himself. "please let us know when we can take care of you too y/n" aran said.

» "its no big deal. really!" waving your hands in defense. "it was just a small cold. but i do have a question though"

» all the boys gathered around to hear what you had to say

» "how did i get home?? i really dont remember what happened after i almost got hit by atsumu"

» it shocked the guys honestly. you genuinely didnt remember a single thing due to your fever. "wait? you don't remember kita taking you home?" suna replied, your face becoming red. "k-kita san took me home-?" "yah. he left in the middle of practice to do so" osamu added.

» immediately, you got up to find the captain that apparently took you home the other day. he was in the storage closet cleaning and grabbing the equipment for todays practice.

» "kita san" "oh. l/n. glad you're feeling better" his smile brightened the musty closet. "about that, im sorry for troubling you and having you take me home the other day. i honestly dont remember what happened after i almost got hit by atsumu. my mind was really fuzzy that day, but im truly thankful for you going out of your way for me. it really means a lot"

» kita was dumbfounded. you really dont remember? "no need to apologize l/n. it was my responsibility as a captain. and afterall, what good would i be if i couldnt even take care of the person who means the most to me"

» your heart raced. 'person who means the most to me' ? cheeks blushing a rosy pink, you were internally thanking the musty store room from being dim.

» with arms full of equipment, kita walked by you and stopped.

» "by the way l/n san. did you know?"

» ears perking up at the vague yet familiar line

» "i like you a lot too l/n san"

» now we all know sakusa HATES germs and for the past week and a half, he's been telling you to keep up with washing your hands, wearing a mask at all times even when you eat omi it doesnt work like that. pls especially since you are prone to getting sick easily no matter how hygenic you are. your immune system just hated you. PERIODT

» you remembered sakusa scolding you for running out of hand sanitizer and then the next day you were out of commission. bed ridden with laryngitis, cough, slight fever, the whole works. it was like your body was making fun of you or something

» you texted komori, asking him to take notes in class for you and relay homework information while you were at home resting up. but there was one request you had and made komori PROMISE.

» DO NOT TELL SAKUSA YOU GOT SICK

» "he's probably gonna notice your absence y/n. he'll find out about it either way"

» "well if you dont tell him then he wont know. its not like he even cares about where i am like that"

» "thats what you might think. but i know he's gonna say something i can garuntee it"

» the next day at school, sakusa did notice your presence missing. it was quieter not having a 3rd person in the group of friends. not having you around to talk to him when komori was gone.

» pulling out his phone to text you, he asked where you were that day.

» "on a family trip :D !!! forgot to tell you, but I'll tell you all about it when i come back!" you wrote, attaching an old selfie of a different trip you went on to make it more believable.

» you had hoped this silly cold would get better in a day, but soon that day turned into 2 and then 3 and then 4... you pretty much missed the whole week of school at that point

» Friday rolled around and komori was on his phone all day. sakusa noticed his cousin fidget in his chair more than usual and it irked him to see him like that

» "what's with you today?" one eye raised, sakusa finally asked. "uhhh nothing really" komori wasnt very good at keeping secrets lets just start off with that, but he was trying his best.

» "well clearly somethings wrong. you're fidgeting." "well haven't you noticed somethings been different all week?" komori hinted

» sakusa sat there in thought. nothing's been different? he ate the same breakfast he usually does every morning. all his studies have been well. there were no tests this week so there was no reason to be anxious like komori was and even if there was, he would've done well anyways.

» "just tell me what it is." sakusa was starting to get annoyed. "y/n..." komori started. "y/n?" "do you know where she's been this week?"

» did you not tell komori about your family trip? you usually told komori everything, but then again you didn't tell him either until he asked you about it.

» "she said shes on a trip?" he nonchalantly said. komori's eyes started watering. "A TRIP TO THE HOSPITAL THATS WHAT IT IS" he blurted out. komori didnt mean to let it slip , he was just so worried about your well being.

» "hospital?? what are you talking about. did she get injured on her trip?" "no omi. shes been sick all week and her mom just texted me saying she went to the hospital today because shes had a fever for 3 days straight. there is no family trip"

» sakusa's heart shattered. you were sick and didnt even tell him?

» before both he and komori knew it, his legs were running faster to get to the hospital than he had ever imagined he could ever run.

» and there you were. fast asleep in a bed with an IV drip. your face flushed, forehead sweaty and shallow breaths escaping your chapped lips. you were a hot mess but sakusa didnt care. stepping to your bedside to greet your mother she explained to him that she had to go to work and asked if he could watch over you until she gets back.

» sakusa said yes without even hearing the whole thing. his heart and mind saying yes to whatever it took to get you to feel better.

» gosh how he hated hospitals, but what he hated even more was the fact that you were in the hospital and he didnt even know.

» the doctor came in for their evening round and ensured sakusa that you were indeed getting better! your fever had broken not too long ago and your body was working extra hard to heal itself up!

» "is there anything i can do to help?" sakusa asked. he felt helpless in this situation just watching your face distort in uncomfort every now and then, and coughing your lungs out.

» patting sakusa's shoulder, the doctor told him that just being here for you is enough. "you gotta be a strong boyfriend for her alright son? she'll be able to go home tomorrow first thing in the morning if her fever doesnt come back"

» sakusa slumped in his chair at your bedside, the doctors words ringing through his head. 'boyfriend huh?' he thought to himself. "if i was her boyfriend..." he whispered to himself, "i would be a failure for not even knowing my girl was sick..."

» to kiyoomi, you were beautiful. even now in this sad state you were in. deep down he locked these growing feelings he had for you inside of him because he always felt like you were a better match with someone else and after this stunt you pulled of lying to him about going on a family trip, it only made him feel worse.

» it was now night time and you finally began to stir in your sleep, the fever finally gone. sakusa reached out to move some hair that was stuck to your face, fingers tracing the outline of your jaw. your eyes slowly opened and met with his dark orbs.

» "y/n?" "saku- wait this is just a dream. omi wouldn't be here. he hates hospitals" you let out a forced laugh and then a sigh through your sore throat.

» you reached out to sakusa's hands that were resting on the side of your bed. "omi would never let me hold his hand because he'd say im passing germs to him so hopefully dream omi wont be the same" you were aimlessly talking to yourself, not even realizing that this really wasnt a dream.

» he squeezed your hand in return. hoping that you wouldnt let go any time soon. a funny smile appeared on your face just at the thought of him. "even if you're stupid for not realizing how much i like you... i cant wait to see you again omi" you whispered before falling asleep again.

» sakusa didnt know what to do. he sat there frozen in his chair. it was his first time hearing you call him omi. heck. you literally just confessed to the boy. his brain was running wild. groaning in distress he let go of your hand to step out for a breath of fresh air now that you were back asleep.

» it was 5am and your mother came back to the hospital and thanked sakusa for staying by your side. He left in a hurry to make sure you didnt see him there.

» Monday rolled around and sakusa was waiting outside of the school gates for you. he had planned on asking you about your "trip"

» "good morning sakusa!!" your bright and cheery voice rang through his ears. honestly he was trembling inside. the memory of you confessing to him still fresh in his mind.

» "how was your trip?" you stopped dead in your tracks. "haha... it was good !! sorry i forgot to get you a souvenir" you were trying to play it cool but sakusa could tell you were forcing yourself. "i wouldnt want a souvenir from where you came from so its fine" sakusa's words threw you off. "i - im not sure im understanding what you're saying sakusa?"

» you felt a tug on your hand. "dont you mean omi?" his voice husky as he whispered into your ear. cheeks flushed, your brain felt like it short circuted. you've always tried your hardest to not let it slip that you want to call him omi since he hated when people called him that.

» sakusa smirked at your cute reaction he got out of you. letting go of your hand he began to walk into the school leaving you at the gate dumbfounded. "and by the way. you're just as stupid for not realizing how long ive liked you too"

-» ˚⸙͎۪۫⋆

thank you for your order! enjoy~!

#haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #yinny!drabbles #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa fluff #kita shinsuke #kita x reader #kita fluff

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anonymous-swiftie · 3 years

Text

If you are on twitter, please retweet this:

https://twitter.com/ASwiftie00/status/1334245577933148164?s=19

Dear #Swifties,

I'm new on tumblr, and I really don't know how to use it.

I know you are the best supporters of the music industry and I'm here to ask your help.

I'm fighting with a crippling depression, that due this covid situation just got worse.

I'm at my lowest, I truly don't know if I will make it through this time.

I always dreamed to talk to Taylor, since I was a teenager. She is the only one that make me feel like I do fit in this world.

I've created this account because I know she is very active here, and I'm trying to reach her with this part of my story.

You can read everything below.

I didn't write any personal information because I don't want this to be seen by my family or somebody that can recognise me.

I don't want upset anyone.

I know that everyone hope to meet or chat with her, and so you are probably wondering why you have to share this here.

You're totally right, maybe it's a stupid idea to ask you this, but I haven't anything left in my pocket to fight this situation, and you're my only hope right now.

Thank you.

#taylor #swift

*******************************************

Dear Taylor,

I keep writing and deleting this, over and over again.

I feel so dumb to write my personal story here, but this truly is my last chance to feel better and try to overcome this giant monster called depression.

I genuinly don't know if I can make it through this year. It's the worst period of my entire life and i don't even know if it's worth living this hell anymore.

I know you have millions of supporters (that probably write you every single day, and they are all better fans than I am, that's for sure) but I know that you proved, time after time, to be so down to earth and to use your time to read your fans messages.. so, in this moment, I'm just trying to share a part of my story with you.

You are the one that make feel understood, since I was like 13teen.

I'm so sorry if my English isn't very good but I'll do my best.

I'm not very active on social media , because I'm very shy when I have to talk about myself.. but If this could work, I must do it.

I will try to send a letter, If I can find the strength to mark this feeling on paper.

**IF I'M WRITING TO SOMEBODY FROM HER STAFF, PLEASE JUST LET THIS MESSAGE REACH TAYLOR**

I'll try now to resume, because I don't want to bother you too much.

This has been a crazy year so far, and the all the time I spent by myself during the lockdown didn't help at all.

This situation brought me back to childhood.

I spent a lot of my days back and forth in hospitals, due to my allergies.

I had to wear a mask all the time I wanted to go outside to avoid severe allergic reaction (that's why this Covid thing awakened some hurting memories)

I didn't have real friends back then, 'cause I've spent most of the summers at home, watching other kids playing around, from my window, or from the windows of my classroom.

It was so hard to make new friends, because the only thing that other kids saw was my mask.

I was the masked kid.

I was the strange kid.

I couldn't play with them.

Everytime I tried to play with them, the only thing I heard was "oh you are ill , I don't wanna be like you so stay away".

This situation made me start to write things in my personal diary.

I wrote small sentences, as a kid, and that was the only thing I could do alone inside an empty classroom during all summer.

This situation continued for many years.

I wasn't the cool kid before, I wasn't the cool guy after.

The only things that let me enjoy those days were writing and listening to your songs.

I started to listen to your music thanks to my English teacher. She was a fan of folk and country music and she gave me a pic in which you were singing near a lake (I still have that photo somewhere, I strongly remember the white banner with your name written in red on it) and told me to listen to the cd she gave me that day.

I immediately fell in love (I think I still have a crush on you, I'm sorry).

I loved your album. I loved your voice. I loved the lyrics.

I remember having a "test" in school: each one of the class had to write their favourite lyrics and let the others guess the song.

If the someone guessed It, We could play the cd.

I chose Love Story and I translated it in Italian.

The class guessed the song, and I played it.

After the lunch break I went back to my desk and I saw some bullies that were breaking my cd-album and they started to laugh at me because I loved your music an I loved writing poems.

I was a boy so I was a loser because I enjoyed those things.

That felt terrible, but I continued to love your songs even more .

Those were my inspiration to write and to study english.

I felt so good when I listened to your album and this still happens.

Then I went to a private high-school.

Nothing changed, I still was the nerd guy that always got good grades and I have to say that the first year was quite good, but the second year was the start of the apocalypse.

I choose that school because two girls that I knew from childhood went there.

One of the cool new guys started to spread a fake "news" about me.

He said to everyone that I was the boyfriend of one of the two girls that I mentioned before.

So he was the cool guy and one of the girls believed him and told me to f*** myself.

The other girl was her best friend, so you could imagine by what happened next.

After 14 year spent together, I was nobody.

I didn't have "friends" in that class anymore.

I didn't say hello to anybody for 4 years, and nobody would say anything to me.

Nobody to talked with me.

That's great when you're a teenager.

I hated to wake up every morning.

I had an eating disorder, I lost like 22pounds in less than a month. Got hospitalized twice. I kept vomiting for 3 years, every single morning before school.

During that time I only talked with one of my cousins, who lived like 2 hours by car from me.

He was older than me but he always tried to help.

He knew that I loved to write poems so he started to give me guitar lessons.

I made it through a lot of things thanks to him.

I'm sorry, It's hard for me to write this part of the story.

I still get emotional when I think about this.

On the 10TH of December 2013 (some days after his birthday) we received a phone call from his mother: She warned us that he didn't return home after the last working shift.

I wrote a message to him like 3 hours prior to that phone call.

Never had the opportunity to get a reply again.

This year is the seventh year that he is missing.

That destroyed me.

I felt empty.

I felt like nothing couldn't help me.

I still feel that everytime I care about someone in my life, it will disappear someday.

This have happened several other times.

You know when ignorants say that men don't cry, is real bullshit. Men cry. I cried a lot.

I wrote so many poems , lyrics, thoughts in that period of time, that I destroyed my hands.

That was the only way to close my eyes and let me reach another reality because the real one was way too much for me.

Be a sensible man in this world is somehow a curse.

All these things made me afraid even to hug someone 'cause I feel I'm too ugly or just to scared to be refused.

I will stop here my story, but there's so much more to tell.

I make it through all of these things and memories because I keep dreaming that one day I could meet you and we could talk together.

Dreaming about the fact I could spend a day with you made me find the power to battle my depression.

I'm 25 now and this year I'm not dreaming anymore.

I was going to start again university, I wanted to get a degree in marketing and have the chance to live in the us.

For years I believed that I would make it and hopefully be part of your marketing team.

I'm so stupid. All these years I kept dreaming to avoid pain.

I wanted to pursue my passion and continue to write lyrics but all I was doing was putting myself in unrealistic realities.

This covid situation made everything clear.

When everyone had someone to facetime (or video call) I was alone.

When everyone had someone asking them "how are you?" I only had myself looking in the mirror saying: "Will I ever feel better?"

I've never been the one for anybody, and I think I'll never be.

I won't be the one among all your fans to realize his dream.

Nobody likes me, and I'm exposing myself once again just because I want the opportunity to smile at something that could happen to me.

I'm tired to smile only for others best moments.

I've always seen the sun through a window.

I want to feel happy.

I want to burn my face with the sun.

I'm so sick of hiding my pain,

sick to cry when I'm alone in my car before going to work,

sick to let my eyes rain on my pillow every night.

I'm sick to say to my mother that I'm fine, just because I don't want to make her feel bad.

It's not her fault.

She is battling with a degenerative autoimmune disease, why I should put other weight on her shoulders?

I didn't give up to my weakness before because I don't want to hurt her.

I always say to her that soon she will feel better, that's why your song It's stuck in my head.

But when she won't be here anymore, how I can go through all of that?

I don't even know if will ever get better for me.

Will this pain ever stop?

Sometimes it's so hard to live and so easy to die.

Hope that my dream to spend some time with you can become true.

Thank you for everything, you gave me the strength to go on for many years.. But this time is so hard to put on my armor and continue this battle.

But is this even worth if thy I try to surround myself with people and I always feel lonely?

@taylorswift @taylornation @jackleopards-thedolphinclub

#swifties #taylor swift #folkore #music #ts spoilers #lover taylor swift #taylornation #swiftified13 #day 13 #pop music #books and libraries #writers #history #musicians #quotes #loneliest #love taylor #hopes and dreams

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Text

You were all I wanted

Pairing: mob!Peter Parker x plus-sized!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, swearing, kidnapping, human trafficking, slight mention of body shaming, allusion to non-con.

Words: 2195.

Summary: You are bought by the head of Stark crime family for a kid he cares about.

P.S. Peter is an adult!

__________

"We hope you are going to enjoy your new girl, Mr. Stark." The man loosened his grip on your shoulder as he let you march straight into the arms of a stranger in a fancy striped suit and big frightening men with guns surrounding him.

"Nah, this one isn't for me." The stranger who bought you brushed it off as if your presence meant nothing. "She's a present for the boy. Peter, where the fuck are you?"

You almost jumped at his loud voice, keeping your head low and watching your unstable feet. Well, you expected as much - before you that mysterious Mr. Stark bought one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your life. Her striking black hair was shining even in the dim lights of the dressing room where all captured girls were taken care of before the start of the auction. She costed twice more than you and had much more admirers - you remembered how men were shouting, trying to outbid each other. You weren't that popular, but still ended up being purchased by the same man she was. Now it all made sense.

"I'm here, Mr. Stark!" A young boy's head popped out in the crowd of other buyers, and he emerged right in front of you with a long men's coat in his hands. "I'm sorry it took me so long!"

"Look at this gent." The man smirked at him, and his guards laughed a little at the boy's enthusiasm. "So caring! I hope you're not going to take the girl straight to church?"

Now there was an inappropriately loud burst of laughter, and you bit your own tongue. They all were a bunch of bastards, but your life depended on them now. You needed to keep your mouth shut if you wanted to make it out alive.

The boy smiled brightly at his patron and looked at you with sparkles of happiness in his dark eyes. Oh, at least he was more or less pleased with the way you looked, you thought.

"Congrats with your first girl, Peter." Mr. Stark's smug grin suddenly turned warm at the sight of the boy who was almost jumping with excitement in front of him. "You're sure she's the one you want? I can still get a replacement if you've changed your mind."

"No, no, Mr. Stark, she's perfect for me!" Once the man in the suit nudged you to come closer to the boy, Peter gently wrapped your shoulders into the coat he carried and smiled at you widely. "Thank you so much for your present, sir!"

"Enjoy, kid." His patron smirked and motioned to the men waiting for him. "Let's get going then, I have business to attend to."

Judging by their nasty smirks, his business had something to do with that gorgeous black-haired woman they took somewhere earlier. You did your best not to throw up at the thought of him forcing her down her knees.

"Can you walk?" The boy suddenly asked you quietly, and you blinked. "Do you want me to carry you?"

Nice joke. The guy looked twice slimmer than you, skinny as a rail. You'd break him in half, probably. You weren't sure whether he was mocking you, but it was obviously not the right time to throw a temper tantrum.

"I can walk. Thank you." You mumbled and made a step towards those men who were already leaving.

"Ok. Come with me then." You thought his boyish smile looked pretty.

You walked past other girls dressed in expensive flashy lingerie adorned with glitter, sequins, and laces. Some of young women were as terrified as you were, their faces red with tears; the others seemed strangely happy, shouting something to each other and giggling in front of their new masters - you thought those girls were prostitutes or someone of the same kind because the idea of laughing happily after being bought like a piece of clothing didn't sit well with you. You spotted a few more ladies who were still unstable on their feet because they were given too much drugs, probably. Two dozens women, maybe more, were gathered in a place like that to become someone's property. Like you did now.

It was cold outside despite September being usually warm in New York. You had never lived here before, but one of your friends moved in the Big Apple two years ago and was always talking about nice weather they often enjoyed.

"It's right over there." The boy pointed to one of the cars in a long row of them, Mr. Stark already getting inside a ridiculously fashionable one. Peter's old Honda was nowhere near that, but you were relieved. It made you feel like you weren't taken to some scary place full of criminals waiting to fuck the shit out of you.

The kid opened the door for you like you were some fairytale princess or something, and you got inside, holding the coat that almost slipped from your shaking shoulders while the boy quickly landed on the driver's seat. You couldn't guess his age, but if he drove the car he was probably older than 16.

"I'm so sorry, I know you're cold." He glanced at your silk robe beneath the coat, your legs bare - you had nothing but fluffy slippers on your feet. "It'll get better in a minute."

What a considerate little guy. If he didn't show up with that overconfident mobster who looked like he owned New York, you'd think Peter was some sweet high schooler who spent his weekends working in an animal shelter. But you weren't stupid to believe his innocent looks.

At one point you thought he might be Mr. Stark's illegitimate son, but something told you it wasn't that. The way Peter looked at him with adoration proved that the man was more of his patron as you suspected from the very beginning.

"I know they didn't feed you today, so I brought you some chicken soup." He said and reached to grab something from the back seat - you glanced at the metal food jar thermos that softly landed on your naked lap.

Did he bring you food? For real? No, it must be some trick - there were drugs or something like that there, for sure. Why else was this guy playing the role of your mother, for God's sake?

"You're not allergic to chicken, are you?" Kid looked concerned, watching the troubled expression on your face. "Oh shoot, I didn't check your allergies!"

"I'm not allergic." You quickly replied, afraid to make him upset.

He was getting restless too fast, you thought. Peter really behaved like a kid. What was that Mr. Stark told him after the auction? Something like "congrats with your first girl", wasn't it? So, it probably meant Peter had never been with a woman before. Not that you had been with a man, either. Maybe that's why he picked you.

But it also could be all an act. Teenagers weren't getting slaves to take care of their sexual needs. Maybe this Peter wasn't as young as you thought, and in fact he was some psycho who planned to drug, rape and murder you.

Either way, he would get mad if you didn't get started with that soup - you could read it in his face.

Opening the jar, you felt a delicious smell filling your nostrils when your stomach made an ugly sound. Damn, you had never been so hungry in your entire life.

The truth was the supervisors who took care of all the girls before the auction made you starve for two days "to get you in shape". They said you were too fat and they had to do something to make you at least a bit more presentable.

"Well, if I'm going to die, I will die with a full stomach." You thought gloomly and started gulping down the warm soup. It tasted heavenly good.

The boy watched you in awe as if you were becoming more and more beautiful with eash sip.

"I'm not much of a cook, but Aunt May managed to teach me to make a chicken soup." He said with a sudden warmth to his voice. "So, um, don't worry, you won't die of starvation with me."

You forced yourself to smile at his attempt to make a small joke. As far as you were concerned, your body was perfectly okay even after you finished eating. Maybe the drug took longer to start affecting you, but maybe you were just lucky and there was nothing in the soup at all.

All of a sudden, Peter's phone started ringing, and he took it from the pocket of his jacket immediately.

"Where the fuck are you again, kid?" You could hear Stark's thundering voice even from your seat.

"I'm sorry, sir!" The boy squeaked and adjusted his seatbelt. "We're coming!"

____________

The room he brought you to was fairly large and comfortable to your tastes: there were a comfy king-sized bed, a huge table with a dozen of oddly-looking gadgets and two screens, a chair, a drawer and a closet. There was also a newly-bought TV that wasn't set up yet, and a microwave on a side table.

"I'm terribly sorry for the mess." Peter apologized to you as if you were his parent who came to scold him. "Don't worry, I'll take it all away. Please come and sit here."

He briefly gestured to the bed, and you bit down on your lower lip nervously. The kid was fast.

You didn't talk much in the car since you were waiting for the drug to kick in, but nothing happened. As for Peter, you thought that he was too shy to talk, but maybe he just didn't want to. In the end, he asked his patron to buy you for a very different reason.

"The bathroom is over there. You can take your shower, if you want." He smiled childishly at you.

How could he keep such innocent face when he was about to rape you?

You gathered whatever courage you had left and said, "C-can we talk?"

The boy froze on the spot and dropped whatever gadget he was holding back on the table. You glanced at his skinny boyish figure, that dark ruffled hair and a really pretty face - he looked like your neighbor's sweet son who would climb a tree to get a cat stuck up there back to the ground.

"Of course!" Peter landed on the bed close to you, watching you with his undying enthusiasm. "What would you like to talk about?"

"Why did you choose me?"

You really wanted to know. You weren't the usual goods they sold on that auction, the human traffickers said. Though there were a few girls who weren't breathtakingly beautiful, most of the ones brought there were well above average women. They looked like they came straight from Victoria's Secret Show.

"Well... um." You could see his ears getting red. "You're... pretty. I like you."

Huh, funny. Why did you ask? The answer was obvious - you were cheap. Mr. Stark didn't want to spend too much money on a present for the kid, so Peter had rather limited choice, probably.

"Why are you getting upset?" He sounded so concerned that you made yourself smile again to calm him down. Anyway, it was better to be grateful. You were almost sold to some disgusting old man. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, you didn't. I'm sorry." You hurried to say. "I'm sorry you didn't get anyone better than me. That place was full of magnificent women."

What the fuck were you saying? Did you seriously think those poor souls deserved to be sold like cattle just because they were prettier than you? God, you were so messed up.

"Wait, no!" The boy grabbed your hands in his and made you flinch involuntarily. "No, no, you're beautiful! I chose you because I like you more than anyone else."

Bewildered, you looked at his worried expression, his eyes staring at you intensely while you squeezed your thighs together. Hearing the boy say that felt very odd, but kind of... comforting? Not many people ever called you beautiful, mind your mother and a few friends. It was stupid to think about it now when the one calling you that was the man whose property you had become, yet you couldn't help but get those little butterflies in your stomach.

You eyes watered, and you quickly wiped your tears away.

"People were treating you badly, weren't they? It's terrible." The boy pulled out a pack of napkins and took one, gently pressing it to your wet cheek. "But I swear I fell in love with you once I saw your photos on the website. You're the prettiest girl I've ever met, for real!"

When he removed the napkin, you saw his pupils dilating and felt his breath becoming ragged, heavy. One of his hands rested on your thigh as he leaned closer to you and sniffed your hair. Your body went stiff.

"No one gonna say anything nasty to you from now on. I'll make sure of that."

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @msruchita @opheliadawnwalker3

#peter parker x reader #dark peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #peter parker #spiderman #spidey #yandere #tom holland

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free-boundsoul · 2 years

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His moms are super duper nice. I would bet anything that they’ll come to a few of the home games, even though they live so far away. You could bake any one of those brownie varieties you mentioned. Besides, I can’t imagine you making a bad impression. You’re always so friendly, Freelancer. You clearly can handle dealing with any type of person. After all, most people have one conversation with me and run. You not only lasted for the whole conversation. You chose to have another one. And more after that!

That’s what I’m saying! Exactly. You get it Freelancer. I don’t think know more than fire-based magic means that I am somehow renouncing my identity as a fire-elemental. Of course I love using my fire most. But, as much as I hate to admit it, there are times when fire doesn’t help the situation. I hope it’s not because I’d be fighting another elemental, though there is a certain water elemental I’d gladly like to burn to a crisp…

Oh, that’s understandable. Definitely leave him at home then. Gavin feeds your cat enough treats to be the favorite. Cheater.

Thanks! That sounds really meaningful, Freelancer. Thank you. Oh, wow, and you’re sketching it right now for me to see? That’s such an incredible talent. Although, you’ve really got to watch your posture when you draw. Geez, Freelancer. Either that or you better draw yourself a back-brace! It’s not that I don’t want you to draw. I love seeing you create art. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself when you do it. I don’t know about that. People can probably tell I’m a fire-elemental from my aura. Besides, as soon as I open my mouth, they were probably realize it. Freelancers have a less-specific aura, but it’s still detectable as a Freelancer. Kind of like process of elimination.

A sadism demon? But they are so rare. And I’ve never heard of one being seen by humans, much less being threatened by one. That sounds so scary, Freelancer. I’m just glad you’re okay now. I think there’s a ward to help with dreaming and sleeping. Let me check my text from a dreamwalking/dreamscape class I audited last year. Do you think that might help?

Well, to be fair, I’m not sure if the line itself was the problem or the fact that I was the one speaking it. Well, there’s no reason to be uncomfortable if you don’t have to be. Making you feel better could never be bother to me, Freelancer. Never. I promise you that. Here, give me your hands for a minute. That better?

Oh that’s way too much to make at once. Baker’s choice. You make whatever it is you want. And… whatever calls for the ingredients we have in the house. I heard there’s a storm coming tomorrow, so I don’t think we’ll want to go to the grocery store to pick up anything unless we absolutely need it.

Yeah! Anything that he remembers can be shared like that. Memory retention is a skill that you can practice. It’s related to memory-modification, but not exactly the same thing. The emotions have a more difficult time being shared between two people. It’s possible, but I think it takes more energy, especially if you’re not a telepath with a gift for that type of magic. It’s hard because we all experience emotions differently, so there’s a lot of translation that it has to go through. I think that’s why teachers don’t exactly rely on telepathic stuff to teach, but I imagine that it could help supplement lessons, maybe in a one-on-one tutoring session or something. Could you imagine the energy it would take to connect a five hundred person lecture hall like that? I’d be wiped after ten minutes!

You’re bad enough, Freelancer! Don’t you dare hide any of these delicious eclairs!

-Damien

I'll have to make sure with Hux that they don't have any allergies. That's really sweet of you to say Damien, but I think you're forgetting how awkward I was when we first met. I'm surprised you kept talking to me. Which will only lead to your downfall cuz now you're stuck with me.

I always thought it was admirable that you're going for full certification as a fire elemental, since most elementals seem to just focus on their element. Though, it is absolutely dazzling getting to watch you in your element, especially your performance at the games this year. And you'll have to meet Eren the next time you come over. I bet he'll be glued to you. He loves stretching out on warm spots.

.... It's not that bad, I don't hurt when I draw...just when I straighten up after spending hours in the same position. And you'd think a back brace would be a good idea, except when I wore one, I ended up fighting against it and doing more damage. But het, if you ever have back problems, let me know. I got good at back massages since my grandpa has a bad back. I bet I can get your back to pop like a glowstick. Gavin seems to enjoy it at least.

And I don't know if they realize it when you open your mouth. It'd be pretty stupid to assume someone's race by their personality or how they talk. I bet there are fiery earth elementals, or somber air elementals. You're a pretty cool fire elemental, once you get to know you.

That'd be super helpful, thank you, Damien! I don't think we have to worry about him anymore but it's better to be prepared. Gavin is teaching me some defensive magic to break free from paralysis too, so even if I do get caught, I can hopefully get free.

Oh, um, yeah, that's a lot better, thank you Damien! Your hands are always so pleasantly warm. I guess we should go take a look at what your parents have to see what I can make. Though, I'm leaning toward the red velvet cheesecake brownies. I think your mom and dad would like those. Should we take a run to the store tonight before the storm comes? That way we can pick up anything else we'll need too.

Oh wow that's so cool! And that makes sense, emotions are pretty volatile. Can you do memory retention? That would make a useful study tool. Kind of like photographic memory? And yeah, I didn't think of the energy needed to connect to such a large audience, haha. I don't think I'd want to hear five hundred voices in my head, either.

Oh, think you can stop me? I could just lift them out of your reach if it came down to it.

#damien anon!!🔥#complimenting my art and warming my hands?#I'd be a puddle #I think Damien would go for my shins if I commented on his height tho lol

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killjoysfromyesterday · 3 years

Text

my first prompt for bad things happen bingo! excited for this!

@badthingshappenbingo

pneumonia - kobra kid

word count: 1,218

i’m truly sorry, i don’t know how to do a read more cut on mobile, i’d really appreciate if someone taught me : (

——————

it started as just dust allergies. a common cold. something like that, something that he didn't even pay attention to.

but before he had a chance to speak up and get himself sorted out, the coughing and the chills peaked and left him all hollow inside.

jet had mother-henned him into going to bed early, after the firepit left him sneezing and coughing like ghoul after a bad cigarette. he couldn't tell what time it was now; probably morning by the light peaking through the girl-proofed (see also: boarded up) windows in the bedroom. the heat of the day was creeping in, settling like a fog even indoors. it just added to his lethargy.

with a heaving sigh, he kicked the blankets from his gangly limbs and rolled over, grunting as his shirt stuck to him with cold sweat. his red jacket was draped across the edge of the mattress, probably set there by poison.

and speak of the devil, the door creaks open and the light pitter-patter of poison's footsteps fill the room. kobra tries his best to sit up for him, because maybe if he pretends not to be sick anymore they'll all stop mother-henning him and let him go to the crash track, but scooting up sends him into another coughing fit.

kobra's dizzy when his lungs finally decide to cooperate, and he slumps back against the nest of pillows poison had propped up for him.

“your fever isn't letting up." poison comments, hand cool against kobra's forehead. their eyebrows are stitched together like they always do when they're worried, and somehow it just makes kobra feel worse.

"have you been drinking water?" poison's voice cuts through his thoughts, and he shakes his head, which absolutely does not help the headache that's forming in the crown of his skull. his sinuses feel like they're going to explode and shit, he just wants to fall back asleep.

his eyes must've fallen closed because he didn't even notice that poison left the room until they reappear a few minutes later wielding a rag and a bottle of water. his throat's so dry it's hard to swallow, but the effort of sitting up to drink sounds fucking impossible.

poison unscrews the cap and sits down next to the mattress, helping kobra grip the bottle. their hand is beneath kobra's face as he drinks, catching the inevitable drops of water that roll down his chin.

"i know, kobes. just a couple more sips, okay? then you can go back to sleep, i promise. scout's honor." poison says when kobra starts to pull away, scrunching his face up at the taste. clean water's hard to get in the desert, and the treated shit always had that sour taste left over from the treatment formula. but to appease poison he takes a few more tentative sips and poison doesn't fight when he pulls away this time.

"where's everyone?" kobra asks as he lies back, half lowering-half flopping himself back onto the linens.

"jet’s with mads on his day off. the girl’s out with ghoul, they went to drop some stuff off to doc and pony. why?" poison says, pouring the remainder of the water bottle onto the rag.

"i promised her we'd go to the track today." kobra lets out a sigh of relief when poison sets the rag on his forehead, the cool cloth seeping into the heat of his fever. it doesn't last very long, but it feels better than before with the warmth of the desert baking into the room like a fucking sauna.

"it's alright. you can go some other time." poison smiles.

"i feel bad." kobra chews on the inside of cheek.

"why?"

"feel like i'm lettin' her down." he mumbles.

"kobes. you're not. she understands. she's old enough to get this stuff now." poison's words are reassuring but kobra's still not sure if girl would understand. they'd been planning this trip for days now.

"i guess so." he sighs, and tries to think of a way he could make it up to her later.

"we're home!" ghoul's voice rings through the diner, and a second later a weight slams into kobra's chest like a ton of bricks and sends him coughing again. the girl's hair rubs up against his chin as she settles herself on his chest. thank witch she's still snuggly, because with how independent she's getting, it hurts to see her need them less and less. it's all part of growin' up though, as jet would say.

"careful, girly. kobes isn't feelin' too shiny." poison warns. the girl edges off of him a little bit, her little face scrunching with concern.

kobra turns to ghoul. "how were doc and pony?"

"they're alright. you know doc, summer always makes his legs ache in that chair. pony's good." ghoul, much like the girl, attaches himself to his comfort person as soon as he gets home: he's slinking into poison's lap, nuzzling his face into poison's neck. poison wraps their arms around him, and ghoul makes a pleased nose that kobra's pretty sure is as close as a human gets to purring.

"i'm sorry we can't go today, baby." kobra sighs, and the girl climbs off of him a little bit to look at him.

"it's okay. you're sick." she claps her hands. "oh! and since jet isn't here to be doctor, i'll help you. first, let's assess your diagnostics."

"diagnosis." ghoul corrects, and poison nudges him. the girl just giggles.

"yeah! and then we'll work down to the root of your problem, and, oh, can we use those cool bandaids from the market?" she gives her best puppy eyes to poison, who relents (of course.)

"sure, but just one. no wasting." they say, and girl's rocketing out of the room, her swift footsteps disappearing in the direction of the kitchen.

"see? told you she wouldn't be upset. kid takes it in stride." poison says, resting their head on ghoul's shoulder. ghoul's already dozing off, and kobra's about to be right there with him, because all this exertion has him all dizzy and sleepy again.

the girl's back wielding a box of colorful bandaids, and she carefully plucks a yellow one and peels off the backing. she sticks it on kobra's forehead, sitting back to survey her work.

“there. don’t you feel so much better?” she asks.

“i feel so good, i feel like i could run all the way to tommy’s now.” kobra takes extra effort to make his voice as enthusiastic as possible, even if it’s scratchy and a bit unconvincing.

“woah! that far?” the girl asks, eyes wide.

“yeah, that far. but for now, i’m real tired.” kobra yawns.

“okay. but promise that we’ll race to tommy’s sometime? promise?” she

“pinky swear.” kobra says, locking his pinky with hers.

“alright girly, let’s let kobes get some shut-eye.” poison interrupts, tapping a now-sleeping ghoul who makes a noise of complaint as he rises from poison’s lap. the girl springs up from kobra’s bed, trotting over to where poison was opening the door.

“night-night kobra.” she whispers, following poison out. poison chuckles as they close the door behind them.

kobra falls back into his doze with a smile on his face and a bandaid on his forehead.

_________

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