#but that could be because getting stabbed is like my number one violent fear like i get nauseous just thinking about it
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personally i don't think we talk enough about how jon brutally stabbed jonah/elias multiple times ?? the sound design and the voice acting that went into that scene ??? because i think that was the first time i was very truly, genuinely terrified of jon
#and then of course martin interrupts and brings him back to reality right after but#that's probably one of my favorite scenes in the whole show tbh#the whole scene made me so anxious i was shaking while holding my phone#the stealing people's live statements was also gut wrenching of him tbh but it wasn't as scary as his murder of elias#but that could be because getting stabbed is like my number one violent fear like i get nauseous just thinking about it#the magnus archives#tma#tma podcast#MAG 200#tma 200
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new game + 77 and 99 plsplspls
koooooooorbbbbh thank you for asking!
so i’m gonna post the drabble for 77! i decided that 99 is actually gonna make an appearance in the veeeery last chapter of cage so uh 👀 look out for chapter 20 whenever that happens LMAO
otherwise, god it’s been so long since i’ve written anything paramour related so sorry if this is a bit Rusty i rushed this tbh
send me a number and i’ll write you a drabble based on my spotify wrapped
77. The Bird and The Worm — The Used
for context this is a flashback. tw for violence and descriptions of gore etc
The sickening crack of bone hitting the pavement would never fail to jolt Amon from sleep. He didn’t realize he was having a panic attack until the woman—his “new mother” flew into the lush, well decorated room they’d given him to call his own in a whirlwind of perfumes and fluttering birdlike hands, her twittering little voice crying, “Cori, oh, Cori, please, put the knife down!”
Knife? Amon looked at his hand, finding the same knife from that day firm in his palm. Oh.
Downy feathers twirled in the air like tightrope dancers, thrust there by his violent swings
“Coriandrum Farrah, put that knife down at once!” His “new father” boomed at him. The shake of his rough hands on his shoulders is what truly dragged him back to reality. He wasn’t in an alley. He wasn’t watching those animals throw his mother onto the ground. The seizing hands around his shoulders were just like those that held him down; just like those that had made the first slash against his throat—
Amon paused in his assault of the pillows, and gazed up at the man, his dark eyes swallowed by the pitch of the night and his own murderous intent, fear like a bug in his throat. Seeing his pause, the man continued. “This is the fourth night in a row you’ve done this! We understand what you been through was tragic—“
“No!” Amon’s voice was far too deep for a twelve year old but it was gripped in the bowels of pain, of the suffering evil that spilled from the earth. He wretched violently in his “new father’s” arms, twisting and turning and wriggling to try and escape. His mind flashed between the wealthy aristocrat that took pity on him and saved his life, and the crooked grin of the key who nearly ended it.
“You’ll never understand! They gouged her eyes out and ate them!”
Before either of the adults could react, his grip on the knife tightened once more and he whipped his arm back as if to stab the pillow again, but at the last moment changed trajectory, stabbing it deep into his “father’s” abdomen. He howled in agony, and his “mother” near fainted on the spot, giving Amon ample time to wretch himself free and dash around them and into the corridor. He didn’t know this house too well, and his too weak body screamed at the sudden exertion but he had to get out of here. He didn’t want to play house with rich bastards who thought they owned him just because they intervened on behalf of his life, one he didn’t ask them to save. He wanted to find the people who did this to him, to his mother, and make them pay.
He crashed through a window on the first floor, scampering into the bushes, then off into the night. “Coriandrum Farrah” hardly suited him anyway.
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AN ~ The Heartstopper/GOmens double feature is doing a number on me ok, I loathe to think what will happen to my sanity when OFMD hits (Oct?). This is inspired by, but a little saucier than, "Do You Like It When I Speak French?" ... because this is adult man-shaped ethereal beings we're dealing with here.
Read on AO3
The Louvre is always busy, but it’s also huge. It gives them plenty to talk about - not least squabbling with each other, and with the notecards on the art, but there’s also plenty of reminiscing and waxing poetic about the artists, their subjects, and this place. It feels kind of timeless here, especially once they’ve surpassed the crowded halls and taken themselves out to those less traveled.
Crowley’s enthusiasm for the museum itself is soon flagging, but he trails Aziraphale with a sense of contentedness he’s still getting a handle on. He’s happy drinking in the experience, watching his Angel animatedly recount a tale about Catherine de Medici, the wariness that’s stalked him for centuries just barely prickling the back of his mind.
He damn near jumps out of his skin when his phone rings, and all but throws it on the floor in an effort to pick it up as fast as possible. But the violent stab of fear and rage soothes quickly. It’s just the restaurant, confirming their booking and any special requests. He makes his notes and bids them au revoir, and hangs up to find Aziraphale.
Staring.
It’s not unusual to find Aziraphale staring, especially as they venture down this path of being together-in-a-new-but-not-at-all-new-way. It makes him feel flattered. Flustered. This one even makes a little bit of heat creep in behind his ears, especially when Aziraphale’s tongue just ever so slightly touches his lip, like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. Christ, it’s positively -
Crowley clears his throat.
“Sorry,” he says, tucking the phone away. “I’m listening. Just tonight’s reservations.”
“You made reservations?”
That’s not why he’s staring. Why he hasn’t put those hungry eyes away.
It starts to sink in, and Crowley almost, almost laughs.
“Angel. We can both speak French,” he reminds him.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Aziraphale blushes, but he’s in too deep, he can’t hide the sparkle of lust in his eyes. He turns away, trying to dredge up whatever he’d been talking about before. What’s a Medici? (It doesn’t help that he can feel Crowley’s eyes tracking his every move, with a lot more nerve endings all of a sudden than he could before.)
“I mean…” Crowley clarifies, and scoops him into an embrace from behind. And maybe with just a little tiny flicker of snake tongue against his Angel’s ear, he murmurs deep and low; “You like it when I speak French.”
“Oh, come now, Crowley-”
“Buy me dinner first?”
Aziraphale damn near trips over his own feet. He catches himself half on Crowley and half on the wall, and finds himself face to face with his Demon smiling, looking at once mischievous and ravenous and like he wants nothing more than to drink him slowly and sweetly like a rich cherry port. The feeling is very much mutual, and so he wraps a hand in Crowley’s lapel, pulling himself forward for a kiss even as Crowley begins to recite;
“L’espoir divin qu’à deux on parvient à former
Et qu’à deux on part–”
He knows it. It’s a poem about longing and timeless love. It rolls off Crowley’s tongue like he was born to speak it into existence - or like the words came into being to be spoken by none other than him - and yet Aziraphale can’t bring himself to feel bad that said tongue is too busy now to entertain itself with such beauty. Crowley takes his invitation to heart, kissing back with such care and passion, flooding them both with such a wave of unbridled sensation, that they don’t even hear the footsteps.
It takes a bit of shouting for them to register, they’re being told off like randy teenagers by a very irritated, probably long-suffering guard.
Crowley looks at Aziraphale. Aziraphale looks at Crowley. Each kind of expecting the other to reel it in and apologise, or at least smooth things over and serruptiously make an exit, but neither do. Aziraphale laughs, grabs Crowley’s hand and pulls until they’re running and the guard shakes his head and lets them go, with a sloppy Nous Sommes Desoles! shouted in their wake.
#ineffable husbands#ineffable spouses#gomens fic#good omens#crowley x aziraphale#renewgoodomens#give me s3 or give me death#clara's fic tag#good omens spoilers
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I wish I knew how my creative process worked.
I just had a dream that could have been a whole ass episode in some horror TV show.
Apparently this is today's brain fog/cerebral soup.
_____
I got some work at an old job, because I need the money or something, working as a support worker at a special needs college.
It was weird cos I've not been there for years, but there were a few people who remembered me. The guy who signed the jobs had an office and he asked me something through the window, which I couldn't hear, and then said never mind when I didn't say yes.
This was annoying, but I went and collected the young adult I was meant to be working with, and we got on the bus. He was one of the oldest ones at the college, and his ADHD made him interesting to work with, but it promised to be an ok day.
And then the next thing I knew this guy has damaged a bench on some rich guys property.
So of course I join the efforts to help fix this thing, while Rich Guy watches with cold indifference.
We fix the bench, and it starts to rain, but Rich Guy isn't done.
He wants to physically punish my charge.
And the person in charge of our group is ok with this, which I don't like, but don't know what to do. At which point Rich Guy starts beating my charge with a stick, and it looks like he's helping to kill him, while the rest of us, support workers and charges are in Rich Guy's kitchen staring helplessly.
This spurs me into action, and I grab a long knife from kitchen, and walk up behind Rich Guy in the rain. He doesn't hear me and I stab upwards into his back. He screams and falls to the ground.
At which point reality sets in, and I immediately start calling an ambulance. I try to find the address, so I can tell the ambulance where to go. I can't, and despite people trying to find post, we can't find his address, and his wife is too busy to tell us, given her husband is bleeding out in their garden.
So I explore the street, thinking street name and number will do. I find a weird pub in the corner but, and this is where I start to twig that of a dream... due to not being able to process letters, no street name.
I try and find the house again, but everyone else is gone. Except rich guy and his wife. I'm super worried because I don't like being violent, and am concerned that I'm going to get locked up for trying to save my charge's life. Like... I'm pretty sure I can justify it in court, but it's distracting enough that I get successfully ambushed.
Something happens, and I'm on the floor. Rich guy is not where I left him, and I pass out. When I wake up, I'm aware that Rich Guy is nearby and his wife is checking that I'm alive. I'm touched by her concern, but then she motions to pretend I'm still asleep. She's terrified, but it's not clear why, so I play along, and pretend to still be out.
Rich Guy comes in, and suddenly it turns out that he's a vampire, hence the recovery. He implies that he needs me for now, and I need my blood, but his sadism comes out and he declares that I won't need my skin, and picks me up one handed to start removing it.
No.
That's not happening.
He sees me move and goes to bite me.
At which point I fear-vomit directly into his mouth and when he(understandably) drops me, I flee the scene .
This is where the dream starts to collapse and I wake up.
______
Apparently this is the level of creativity I can muster whilst asleep, but it frustrates the heck out of me that I can't do this while awake.
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would you also like to share top ten (or however many) songs that have rewired the good ol brain chemistry~?
YES I WOULD I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED MY BELOVED MUTUAL!!!
(in reference to this post)
i tried to keep this short (lol) but here’s a list of songs roughly in order of how insane they make me
bo burnham - all eyes on me
this is the undisputed number one. this song gave me an existential crisis. this song gave me a hug. this song stabbed me in the gut and then gave me a kiss on the forehead. this song gently cradled my face and told me there’s nothing left to save. you’d think that after the billionth time hearing: you say the ocean’s rising, like i give a shit. you say the whole world’s ending, honey, it already did. you’re not gonna slow it, heaven knows you tried. got it? good. now get inside would lose its impact but i feel like i need to go lie down on the floor and remember how to be a person every time i listen to it, which is often.
(i thought ‘can’t handle this’ fucked me up, and it did. ‘all eyes on me’ is ‘can’t handle this’ but more)
the mountain goats - no children
I AM DROWNING. THERE IS NO SIGN OF LAND. YOU ARE COMING DOWN WITH ME, HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND. AND I HOPE YOU DIE. I HOPE WE BOTH DIE.
goddddd. the rage. the love. the ‘fuck everyone who isn’t us’. the ‘i will drag you to hell with me because i can’t bear to let go of your hand’. this song violently pulled me off all my hinges. (not to mention it’s the sexiest character dynamic which places no children on like half of my playlists.)
the amazing devil
literally all of their discography. all of it.
the quiet misery of it’s daylight again and you look like i’ve failed you, the defiance in the face of everything of i promise you i’m not broken, the power of our voices collide with each howl of the tide singing all hell and its fire waits for us, the feral whispered rip my rib cage open and devour what’s truly yours, the tired rage of and i walk, knowing every last one of them is painted in light as i make myself acquainted with the saint of never getting it right, the just @ me next time of all my steps too far keep telling me “this is who you are”. i should go home. i’m not lonely, i just like being on my own
they’re so poetic and wild and real and i am so bisexual about them
pim stones - we have it all
we have it all is this haunting melody about selling your soul to the devil and regretting it and it is one of like 2 songs pim stones has released and i would kill for pim stones to release an entire album
slipknot - snuff
i’m not as big of a metalhead as i used to be but slipknot remains a top favourite. slipknot doesn’t do bad albums but ‘all hope is gone’ is special to me and to this day hearing i only wish you weren’t my friend, so i could hurt you in the end makes me feel like an eagle is pecking at my liver
also corey taylor is probably my favourite singer because hhhnnnnggg voice
the spiritual machines - don’t fear the reaper (cover of blue öyster cult)
i like the original but this slower, more cinematic version is everything. the piano at the beginning transitioning into all our times have come and the song picking up speed halfway through is just so *chef’s kiss*
linkin park - shadow of the day & leave out all the rest
i know all the lyrics to every linkin park song i spent my high school years going insane about them and i still love them
daughter - smother & shallows
the entire album is a masterpiece but in the darkness i will meet my creators. and they will all agree that i’m a suffocator and let it all rain down, from the blood-stained clouds. oh come out, come out to the sea my love and just drown with me hit entirely different
hans zimmer - the kraken & what shall we die for
i watched pirates of the caribbean when i was like 12 and i haven’t been normal since. no movie soundtrack goes as hard as this one.
explosions in the sky - your hand in mine
8 minute long instrumental song. this is what i imagine love sounds like.
my chemical romance
all of their stuff but particularly disenchanted (you’re just a sad song with nothing to say), thank you for the venom (give me all your hopeless hearts and make me ill. you’re running after something that you’ll never kill), the end (when i grow up i want to be nothing at all), and the light behind your eyes (so long to all my friends. every one of them met tragic ends)
simon and garfunkel - the sound of silence
i know it’s been memed into oblivion. i don’t care. it’s one of the most songs ever.
kansas - carry on wayward son
do i really need to explain this one? i watched supernatural in its entirety. i’ve been on this hellsite for years. i cannot listen to this song without taking psychic damage but fuck if it isn’t an absolute banger
poppy - meat
honestly i’m not even sure why i put this here it’s so not what i usually go for but it’s like nothing else i’ve ever heard. this song has a story and requires a content warning for… everything. (it's about aliens farming humans for meat). it’s genuinely disturbing. i discovered it while making playlists for the magnus archives entities and it just stuck in my brain and wouldn’t leave.
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* ― OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH PROMPT .
* prt three. spoilers for episodes 5-6 , tw vulgar language ,discussion of murder / death change pronouns / wording as needed .
❝ you are not to engage. you are simply here to observe. ❞
❝ quick question: how violent do we expect this to get ? ❞
❝ have you checked this body yet or what ? ❞
❝ write that down in the ‘useful tips’ section. ❞
❝ the number of bad habits i’ve identified is frankly humbling. ❞
❝ you could try a little more oomph. ❞
❝ you’re right, no need to get riled. ❞
❝ pirates, they attack with force. the upper crust, they strike with cutting remarks disguised as politeness. ❞
❝ that’s fucking diabolical. ❞
❝ yeah, but, i mean, fսck i care. whatever. ❞
❝ oh, i see, you think you’re cute. ❞
❝ actually, i think i'm just so-so, but i've decided to carry myself like i'm cute. ❞
❝ your lot days of lyin' around doing fuck-all, it's through. ❞
❝ i’ve got just the job for you... bitch. follow me. ❞
❝ little psycho. ❞
❝ i like the name ____ , and accounting sounds fancy as fսck. ❞
❝ how does one win this interaction ? ❞
❝ i'm gonna stop you there. it's not really the, uh, crowd for skull talk. ❞
❝ this is deranged ! i don't clean things ! ❞
❝ have you ever been sketched ? ❞
❝ are you saying you've tasted human flesh ? ❞
❝ aw, lighten up. you're just sore 'cause they like me more than you. ❞
❝ i’m gonna kill that twat. ❞
❝ hang on. that's, that's passive aggression. ❞
❝ from my experience these things are meant to make you feel like a bit of a jackass. ❞
❝ i don't know, i panicked. and then, they laughed at me. ❞
❝ you're in over your head. these are my people. i'll deal with it. ❞
❝ and what if i don't? you're not my captain. ❞
❝ heh-heh, nice. ❞
❝ when you cut loose, you really cut loose. ❞
❝ i think you're very sophisticated. ❞
❝ well, sometimes the old things are the best things. ❞
❝ you wear fine things well. ❞
❝ if you wanted, i could teach you a more advanced trick of the trade. ❞
❝ stab me. ❞
❝ this is it. i'm gonna shoot you in the face ! ❞
❝ i stabbed you, you nut ! ❞
❝ i think the scariest thing i've ever seen would probably be the kraken. ❞
❝ fear is the most powerful emotion, turn your enemy's worst fear against them, you'll own them. ❞
❝ be careful what you ask your god for, she might just answer. ❞
❝ ow, you bit me ! what the fսck ?! ❞
❝ as I like to call it, the art of fuckery. ❞
❝ sorry, you triggered my fight or bite response. ❞
❝ you seem to know everything about everything in the whole fսckin' world ! ❞
❝ you left me hangin' up there for 20 minutes. not bloody optimal. ❞
❝ the fuck is this ? ❞
❝ you're in too deep, ___. best thing to do end it quick. ❞
❝ we've got a fuckery on our hands ! ❞
❝ i went out on a limb for you, you little shit. ❞
❝ because it's my job to make sure that ___ is content. and he adores you. why, i'll never know, but... he does. ❞
❝ yeah, he's reimagined things a bit, all right ? ❞
❝ maiming's different. love a good maim. ❞
❝ and tonight, i’m supposed to kill . . . you. ❞
❝ is that still on the cards or . . . ❞
❝ listen, what if what if we just pretended that whole murder idea never happened ? ❞
❝ i fսckin' challenge you to a fսckin' duel. ❞
❝ that was a warning. ❞
❝ oh you cheeky bitch ! ❞
❝ no ! stab him, for fucks sake ! ❞
❝ shut up ! don't you ever shut up, you rancid rat ! ❞
❝ not for nothing, but that guy really is a dick, huh ? ❞
❝ i'm used to death, but, um... but not, um... your death. ❞
#long post /#prompt#ask prompt#ask meme#sentence starters#sentence starter prompt#sentence starter meme#our flag means death sentence starters#dialogue prompt#pirate prompt#rp prompt#askbox prompt#askbox meme
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Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 16
Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 16
Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader
Rating: R for language and smut.
Words: ~3100 words.
Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.
Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15
gif credit: @benbarnxs
Part 16
You were straddling Billy, riding him, your hips undulating atop his body. His fingers tightly gripped your waist, getting ready to take charge so you were underneath him, but you refused to submit. Instead you grabbed his hands and pinned it above his head. As you hovered above him, he arched up to kiss you but you shifted back, instead staring down at him intently. He growled at you before he rolled over unexpectedly, taking you along with him.
As he thrust into you, harder and rougher each time, you began to slide off the bed. In your new position, you caught sight of Adam on the floor. His corpse was wrapped up in a rug, only his head sticking out-
“Hey.” Billy pulled you up so you were now sitting across his lap, facing him. “Look at me. Only me.”
Only a few seconds ago he was biting you as you clawed at him, both of you desperate to possess each other. Your movements had been savage, animalistic even, but now Billy was kissing you languidly, his hand brushing the back of your hair while the other settled on the small of your back. You were directing the rhythm of the thrusts now, setting a slower pace so you could fully enjoy the feel of his cock stretching your insides oh-so-tantalizingly. Your forehead braced against his, you closed your eyes and lost yourself to the flood of emotions that overcame you.
***
It was after midnight. Billy had come home with you and both of you were in bed, you nestled against him while he spooned you from behind. Even though you were tired, you couldn’t sleep. Your brain was working overtime processing everything that happened in the last few hours. He stirred next to you, dropping a tender kiss on your bare shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” he murmured. You may have been fully alert but he sounded absolutely exhausted.
“Are you sure they’ll be thorough with the cleaning?”
“Yeah.” Throwing his arm over you, he covered your hand with his. “These guys are not amateurs. They know what they’re doing. There won’t be any traces of us left in that room.”
“And Adam’s body-”
“Will be disposed of.”
“But how do you know you can trust these guys? What’s stopping them from blackmailing-”
“’cause money talks, babe. That crew is very well paid.” He squeezed your palm. “I’ve used them in the past. No trouble yet.”
With his military career you were already aware of his violent past, but you also sensed he had a long hit list aside from that. When he’d realized your plans for Adam, he hadn’t been remotely shocked at the idea of you killing another person. In fact, as you stabbed Adam repeatedly, Billy had looked at you with such pride and reverence that it had left you breathless.
“What we did tonight, you know what that means, don’t you?”
His voice brought you out of your reverie. You exhaled a deep breath, drawing circles on his palm. “That we’re bad people.”
“No, we’re survivors. We take down anyone who gets in our way.”
“He didn’t come after you,” you reminded him. “You didn’t have to get involved.”
He turned you around to face him. “Nobody threatens you and gets to live after that.”
Your heart pounded in your chest. When he looked at you with such intensity, you were almost ready to believe anything.
He cradled your face, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. “We’re connected now. Forever. Because of tonight.”
You didn’t understand how his words could evoke such conflicting emotions within you. On one hand your stomach fluttered with excitement, he was saying things you’d wanted to hear for a long time, but then there was the fear. Doubt. Uncertainty. You forced a smile, hoping some levity would lighten the situation. “You make it sound like we’re married or something.”
Disgust flooded over his face. “Fuck, no. Marriages end. One day you’re bragging about being in love, next it’s all over. It’s not based on anything real. But we are.” He reached for your hand, which was resting on the pillow between you and him, and intertwined his fingers through yours. “I saw you tonight, the real you. And you saw me. No pretenses, no boundaries. And you didn’t run. You didn’t even flinch.”
“Neither did you.” You lifted your eyebrow. “You were rock hard.”
“I always am around you.”
His words made the heat rise in your cheeks, which he noticed right away. Giving you a teasing smile, he leaned in closer to give you a peck on the cheek. “Are you blushing?”
“Shut up.”
Billy’s eyes remained locked on you, simply staring at you with sleepy eyes. “I don’t like who I was when I thought I lost you. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t work. Every time I closed my eyes I imagined you fucking this other guy, kissing him. Even the thought of you talking to him made me want to burn it all down.”
Your heart ached at how tired he looked. Scooting closer, you started massaging his forehead. When he closed his eyes, you dropped a gentle kiss on each of his eyelids, the beauty mark just below his right eye, before snuggling him tightly in your arms. “Sleep, Billy.”
“You’ll be here when I wake up?” he murmured drowsily.
You smiled. “It is my apartment.”
He didn’t respond, already fast asleep. You tried to do the same but couldn’t; there were too many thoughts running around in your brain. You had assumed you’d feel guilty about taking a life; you didn’t. You remembered the vicious, contemptuous anger in Adam’s eyes when he’d held you at gunpoint, and how he’d threatened to kill others in your team, and all you felt was relief. Relief that he was dead and no longer a danger to you.
Billy stirred next to you, drawing your attention. You reached out to hold him, your touch feather-light so as not to wake him up. He looked calm and peaceful, unlike the haunted and distraught way he appeared earlier in the hotel room. It was still hard to digest that he’d been so unhinged at the thought of losing you. But the thing that resonated with you the most was that he hadn’t been able to hurt you despite all of the anger he’d felt. Growing up the way you had, you were always on alert for things to turn violent at any moment. One wrong comment or an innocent gesture - hell even a lone pair of sock on the floor - had the potential to trigger your father’s temper and turn things violent. During those moments his rage was uncontrollable, and as a result you always worried about how people reacted when they were furious. The fact that Billy hadn’t hit you even though he’d been completely enraged made you realize you were physically safe with him.
Maybe emotionally as well. For so long you’d had difficulty believing he could reciprocate your feelings yet you couldn’t ignore how devastated he’d been. Nor could you rationalize away his emotions. It still felt surreal but he did truly care about you, and the thought filled you with warmth and made your heart soar with happiness.
You brushed your lips against his, hoping Billy’s comforting presence next to you would help you relax. However, fifteen minutes later sleep still alluded you. Eventually you decided to do something useful and work instead. Carefully sliding out of bed so you didn’t disturb him, you tip-toed out of the bedroom. Immediately you felt the soreness in your body, an after effect of the rough sex you had with Billy in the hotel room earlier. Grabbing a nearby throw, you were soon nestled in your favourite spot on the chaise lounge, working away on your laptop.
An hour later you heard footsteps behind you and you turned around to find Billy yawning, clad in boxers, his hair all ruffled.
“Why aren’t you in bed?” he grumbled.
You scooted over to give him space to sit on the chaise but he seemed to have other ideas in mind as he took a seat behind you. You found yourself settled between his legs, your back nestled against his chest, as he caressed down the length of your arms.
“I couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well do something useful.”
“What corporate shit are you working on?” he teased, playfully grabbing your laptop to look at your screen. You smacked his arm right away, shutting the screen and pushing the laptop away.
Billy purposely rubbed his face against the base of your neck and you started giggling at the sensation of his prickly beard on your bare skin. “Stop,” you whined. “It tickles.” you squealed loudly, trying to jump out of his arms but he held you in a tight grip.
Finally he stopped, and as you struggled to catch your breath, you slapped his arm playfully. “You’re such a jerk.”
He chuckled, hugging you tightly from behind. “That’s for ignoring all my calls since Tuesday.”
“I’m still not unblocking your number,” you retorted. His beard scraped along your shoulder, making you squeal again. “Okay, fine. Sorry!”
“Swear that you’re not gonna block me again.”
You turned around in his arms, resting on your knees as your arms looped around his neck. Smiling down at him, you nuzzled your nose with his. “Swear that you won’t act like an asshole again.”
“Can’t really do that.”
“Exactly.” He tucked your hair behind your ear. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the tender affection on his face, the warmth of his gaze spreading slow, languid heat throughout your body. “You should go back to bed. You still look tired.”
“I’ve had a rough week.”
You pouted your lips. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Want to make it up to me?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow at you.
”How? By sucking you off?” you teased, running your fingers through his hair.
“Move in with me.”
Your hands stilled on him, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. At first you thought he was joking but the solemn expression on his face made you realize otherwise. You moved away, putting much needed distance between the two of you.
“That’s not funny, Billy.”
Maintaining a rigid posture on the chaise lounge, he shrugged his shoulders. “Not meant to be. I’m dead serious.”
“You know that’s ridiculous, right?”
“Why? ‘cause I wanna keep you safe?”
“The threat is gone. I took care of it.”
“We took care of it,” he said pointedly. “A threat which you didn’t even tell me about.”
“I explained that to you already.” Feeling defensive, you started pacing the floor. “You promised you’d have your guy stop tailing me.”
“Sure. As soon as I know you’re not gonna keep things from me again. You moving in will help with that.”
“So if I don’t move in, you’ll have me followed 24/7?” Anger surged through you, you were so furious you wanted to scream. “That’s fucking blackmail.”
“Relax. No need to be so dramatic about it.”
You grabbed the closest cushion you had and flung it at him, enraged by his patronising tone. “We barely know each other-”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he interjected, finally moving to stand up. His eyes were pitch black, his jaw clenched. “You and I killed someone tonight! You took my hand, my knife, and we stabbed the bastard in the heart with it, together. We fucked while he drew his last breath and now you’re feeding me this bullshit?” He stormed towards you. “No! I’ve seen your darkness and you’ve seen mine. There’s no one else in this world that knows us better than we know each other.”
You shook your head, flabbergasted by his reaction. “This is insane. I can’t move in with you. We haven’t even gone out on a real date because you said I was boring!”
“If you believe that then you really are a fucking idiot!”
You stiffened, his words ringing in your ear. Fucking idiot. Something your father used to call you repeatedly, his tone full of hate and vitriol when he lashed out at you. It started with a fucking idiot then spiralled into bitch and whore and everything else hurtful under the sun. You swore to yourself you’d never accept being spoken to like that by another person yet here you were, being insulted again by someone who was supposed to care about you.
You retreated back from Billy, careful to keep your distance from him, and leveled him with a cold glance. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.”
Your voice may have been deceptively calm but there was a storm brewing inside you. You desperately needed some space. As you moved away from Billy and headed to the kitchen, he tried to block your path but you immediately pushed him away. “Don’t touch me!”
You quickly sidestepped past him and entered the kitchen, heading for the cabinet where you kept your bottle of whiskey. Pouring yourself a glass, you slowly sipped the liquid to soothe your frayed nerves and forget the memories Billy had just unleashed in you.
***
Even as the words left his mouth, Billy knew he’d made a mistake. He regretted what he said instantly, even more so when he realized how much the words had stung you. The last thing he wanted was to cause you pain but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The more he tried to hold on to you the more you slipped through his fingers.
After giving you a few minutes to calm down, he entered the kitchen behind you. You were standing in the opposite corner, drinking the hard stuff, which further signalled how shaken you were. Billy knew Scotch wasn’t something you enjoyed, you only drank it when you were messed up.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t have said that. It won’t happen again. I swear.”
You didn’t acknowledge him, and it hurt like hell.
“When I think about you pulling away from me, it makes me lose my mind.” He swallowed audibly, desperately trying to get through to you. “I’m all in when it comes to us but it feels like you always have one foot out the door.” He took hesitant steps towards you while your eyes still remained on the countertop, refusing to meet his gaze. “I keep fucking up but I’ve never felt this way before. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just can’t lose you, Y/N.”
“I’m not built like you, Billy,” you finally spoke, turning to look at him. “I have doubts. I’m constantly dealing with insecurities. It takes me time to trust people, and I just can’t rush into things head-on.”
“And I’m someone who hustles. I go after everything I want with guns blazing. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have Anvil.”
“But I’m not a thing, Billy. I’m a person, and you can’t push me into doing stuff I’m not ready for.”
He exhaled a resigned sigh. “I know. It’s ‘cause I get paranoid when it comes to you. You’re a closed book and you never tell me anything.” His eyes scanned yours, his stomach clenched with anxiety. “I don’t even know how you feel about me.” It was the first time he’d voiced that thought, something he didn’t even realize he felt until this very moment. You wanted him, that he knew, and you’d even confessed you loved him once but he didn’t really believe in that bullshit. What mattered to him was if you needed him as much as he did you. The idea of not having you in his life drove him insane, but did you feel the same way? He didn’t think so and it bothered the fuck out of him.
You set your glass down on the counter before reaching out to cradle his face, your soulful eyes meeting his emotional gaze. “I want to be with you, Billy. I like you so much that it scares me.”
Your words brought with them a tidal wave of relief that swept over him like a calm breeze. It was like he could breathe again. He pulled you close, his forehead against yours as he simply held you. “Don’t be scared, babe. I don’t bite.”
“That is a complete fucking lie,” you retorted. “I still have the marks from earlier to prove it.” Your smile faded again as you held his stare. “But I need you to be patient with me. You can’t bully me or get mad if I don’t want to rush into things.”
He nodded his head. “I won’t.”
“I’ve only ever had myself to rely on. And the thought of trusting you? Relying on you? It scares the hell out of me. Because there’s always a voice in my head that’s reminding me I need to go back to being alone when we end things.”
“I need to kill that voice.”
You chuckled, reaching out to loop your arms behind his back. “It shuts up eventually. It did in the hotel room when I saw how fucked up you were without me. That’s when it sunk in you actually do like me.”
“It took you that long to believe it?”
You gave him a sad smile. “Yeah. You did tell me I was boring.”
He groaned right away, regret washing over him. He should never have said those fucking words to you. “You’re not boring. You’re smart. And hot.” He kissed your left cheek. “And sweet. And funny. And mine.” Then the right cheek. “And when you lecture me about cybersecurity, I get so hard.”
“Whatever. You’re the one who wanted to know more about the topic,” you grumbled.
He grinned, giving you a tender peck on the lips. “I can listen to you talk for hours and hours-“
“Shut up.” You pressed your palm over his mouth.
Wrapping his arms around you, he lifted you off the ground and started carrying you back to the bedroom. “Forever actually, if you’re naked.”
“Not once have I lectured you naked.”
He dropped you on the bed. “Yeah, exactly. Time you start.” He jumped into bed, rubbing his beard on your face again as you started squealing.
A few minutes later you were both panting for air, staring up at the ceiling. “Just to make it clear, I’m not moving in,” you huffed through laboured breaths.
He turned to look at you, smirking. “Fine, but I’m taking you out tonight. Proper date and all.”
The most beautiful smile graced your face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You were a ray of sunshine beaming up at him and Billy’s heart felt so full he worried it would explode. If he could, he’d freeze this moment forever.
Part 17
A/N - As always, your wonderful feedback is what keeps me inspired to write and post consistently. I was initially nervous about this chapter because the characters experience a gamut of emotions but it was necessary. I hope you like and enjoy this chapter. Feedback, as always, is very much appreciated and feeds my soul :)
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for @jonmartinweek THE FINAL DAY prompt- Pining/Longing. This one takes place, well, you’ll see
~*~
A Study of Longing, Told in Six Parts
Part 1
Martin wonders if he’ll ever get to a point in his life where kindness doesn’t feel like a shock to the system. It’s already surprising enough when Tim and Sasha invite him for drinks in a genuine offer of friendship, but for that kindness to come from Jon? Martin has no idea what to do with being believed, let alone being protected.
And now here he is, blearily opening his eyes only to find himself staring at a mass of hair. As he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, the shape resolves into the form of one Jonathan Sims. He had apparently fallen asleep with his head cushioned on his arms, against the cot Martin was currently occupying. It’s not an image that Martin can fully process at the moment, so instead he debates whether or not to wake Jon up or quietly get off the cot to let him get some much needed sleep. He decides on the former, both thinking that it would be hell on his back to keep sleeping in that position, and that he would like an explanation.
Hand hovering above Jon’s shoulder, but not fully touching, Martin oh so quietly calls out, “Jon?”
That’s all it takes for Jon’s head to rush up with a gasp, glasses askew, and with the texture of his sleeves pressed in red marks on his face. It is a horribly endearing look. “Hrn?”
Martin opens his mouths, closes it, and waits for Jon to get his bearings. Jon smooths down his (frankly ridiculous) sweater-vest, adjusts his glasses, and slips back on his professional demeanor. “My apologies, Martin, I, ah, must have fallen asleep.”
Glancing to the crappy little digital clock resting on a file box next to him, Martin rolls his eyes. Only Jon could be quite so stuffy at 4:32 in the morning. “No apologies needed. Though, um, was there? Something you needed or..?”
Jon shakes his head and stands up, dusting off imaginary grime. “No, no, nothing like that. I had just, er. I had heard you cry out and I- I wanted to make sure nothing was going on. It appears that it simply a nightmare,so I will be.. taking my leave. Now.”
He doesn’t know what part of himself replies, “Oh! You don’t have to go!,” but he replies it anyway. Jon does that little thoughtful frown at him, which forces him to continue, “I mean, if you wanted the cot. For sleeping. I’ll probably be awake for the rest of the night, so, you know, no skin off my back .”
“Ah. No, that’s quite alright, Martin. Try to get some more sleep, there’s still a long work day ahead.”
Jon doesn’t even wait for a response before turning on his heel and leaving. Martin sort of hates how much he wanted him to stay.
Part 2
Jon is laughing. Jon is terrified, all the damn time, and yet, somehow, he’s laughing. Honestly, he was starting to wonder if he was still capable of it. Martin is gesticulating wildly with his fork, animated in a way that Jon’s only ever seen when in they’re in the middle of a rather silly debate. He thinks this lunch’s topic was something like whether or not snakes were cute? He lost the thread of conversation about half an hour ago, honestly. Covering his mouth, he lets the giggles run through his whole body, shaking his shoulders and heating his core. He feels light, heady, like he’s reminiscing with an old friend and they’re both on the edge of having had too much to drink.
He only wishes he could trust this feeling. He wishes that he could trust Martin, that they were normal coworkers having a normal lunch, that the previous person in Jon’s position had gone into an easy retirement instead of being violently murdered. He wishes he hadn’t read that letter telling him, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Martin, Martin, who took him to lunch and brought him tea and seemed so very warm in so very cold circumstances, was lying to him.
Jon stops laughing.
Part 3
Of course, the second his body hits the simultaneously stiff and weirdly lumpy motel mattress, his phone goes off. It may only be about 8 pm, but he’s tired, and he’s sore, and he’s had a persistent headcold for the past week for some unholy reason, the last thing he wants to do is talk. However, only about four people have the number to the burner cell, and they’re almost certainly have a purpose behind their call.
Closing his eyes and letting out a sigh that turns into more of a groan, he picks up on the 4th ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, Jon! It’s Martin, I’m not sure if you have my number programmed in that phone, or if it even has caller ID if you do. Anyway, it’s been about a week since I’ve heard anything, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t, y’know, dead or arrested or anything.”
His previously tense and aching muscles all relax, without him consciously deciding to relax them, and a sleepy smile spreads across his face, because some time in the past year he’s become a parody of himself. Yes, maybe he should be more affronted by how much Martin’s tinny voice brings him comfort, but he’s had a rather terrible time of things since...since he began work in the archives, really, and he’s worn down enough that he can admit he misses his friend.
Huh. Friends. They are, aren’t they? Wonder when that happened. (He can guess, something involving a fake CV admission, but he doesn’t feel like it right now.) “Martin, I recognize your voice, no need to introduce yourself.”
“Right! Yes, uh, ‘course..of course you can. Right. Sooo...I take it you’re not dead, then.”
“Correct. I haven’t been arrested, either.” It’s only sort of a comforting lie, so Jon thinks it can be forgiven.
“Good. Great! Yeah, that’s...that’s good.”
The conversation could probably end there. Jon could probably tell Martin good night, and they’d hang up, and Jon could get the sleep he had been so desperately craving not moments ago. Somehow, he thinks that neither of them want that. Scrambling for something to talk about, Jon replies, “Hang on, isn’t it something like 2am over there?”
“It...might be.”
“Martin!”
“What! It’s not like you have a monopoly on bad sleeping habits. Besides, I was up anyway, and I just..”
“Just what?”
“I just missed your voice.”
Oh. Heat rushes to his cheeks, and tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes, and god. He had missed Martin’s voice too. “Really? I know you’ve had to listen to a fair number of tapes lately, thought you might be sick of it by now.”
“No. I mean, I am a bit tired of tapes, honestly, but even the ones that you recorded, that not really your voice, is it? I mean it is, but it doesn’t sound like you when you’re actually, um, you. I wanted..I wanted to hear you.”
Jon’s far too worn out to deal with that sentiment, and the way that it makes his heart clench. So instead of addressing it, he says, “I am very close to being asleep.”
“Oh. Right, sorry, I’ll let you go-”
“No! No. Um. Would you mind staying on the line? Until I’m gone? I-I like hearing your voice. As well.”
“Oh! Sure, yeah, definitely. Anything in particular you want me to talk about?”
“Whatever you like. Something nice?”
“All right. I can do that. Um. Did I tell you about this little yarn shop I found the other day. It’s called ‘Puttin’ on the knitz’, and it’s…”
Jon peacefully drifts off, listening to the voice of the man who he can only admit in moments such as these, he wishes was in this bed, laying beside him.
Part 4
please come back please come back for the love of god come back I can’t believe you’re doing this do you have any idea how stupid this is come back to me come back come back come back
Part 5
There is plenty of things to long for in the apocalypse. A decent cuppa. The relief of actual sleep. Murdering Jonah Magnus. For there not to be a apocalypse. They are grateful, however, to not have to long for each other.
Part 6
Martin comes to without a knife in his hand, or bloodstains on his clothing. Those, under other circumstances, would be good things.
Martin comes to, laying in the grass, without anyone beside him. He barely has the moment to feel agony spike through him before he’s out once more.
There are no Jonathan Sims admitted to the hospital. As far as he can tell, no one was admitted into the hospital at the same time as him, and certainly no one with a stab wound.
There are thousands of ‘Jonathan Sims UK’, typed desperately into a library computer search bar, wielding mostly results about a sport manager and a romance novelist. None of the images are of the right person.
Sometimes Martin puts one foot in front of the other, carefully blank in heart and head. Surviving, even during times that he’s not sure he wants to, is one of his greatest abilities.
Sometimes Martin despairs.
On the worst nights, he tries to call the Lonely back to him, tries to be swallowed whole. It never works. He’s not sure if it’s because the fears aren’t in the reality or if they’re not established enough to have any leverage or if his connection has simply been broken. (He doubts the last reason. He hasn’t been this alone since Tim’s funeral. Even then, Melanie had thrown a few stilted condolences towards him. No one is aware enough of him to give condolences now. He misses Melanie. He misses all of them. He misses Jon like a gaping, bleeding wound misses skin.)
Seven months later, and he has enough money saved and identity built that he moves on to Scotland. The little village they had been adjacent to exists in this reality. Daisy’s cottage does not.
On a whim, he enters the yarn shop. He’s not going to pick anything up, hobbies are the last thing he can focus on, but it’s nice to look. To feel the various textures, to take in the rich variance of colors, to, hopefully be present in his own body, if only for a moment.
Martin steps in. The bell chimes. He’s there. Standing in front of him. Whole. In a cry that’s closer to a gasp, he calls out, “JON!”
Jon turns, looks up at him, recognizes him even before he’s even fully seen him. It’s his Jon, he’s here he’s here he’s here. The callback of “MARTIN!” sounds like it was punched out of him, the start of a sob and a laugh all at once.
In a blink, they’re together, their embrace a tangle of limbs, a collision of lips, a mixture of tears. Martin can’t tell which of them is saying the litany of “thank god thank god thank god” and who’s repeating “it’s you it’s you it’s you.”
It’s Jon that’s telling him, “I knew you had to be here. I knew it, because I kept thinking. Surely. Surely this new universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to allow me to live, but to make me live without you.”
It’s Martin that replies, “I didn’t know. I thought it would be that cruel. Please don’t make me go through that again.”
Jon pulls him in tighter, eliminating the centimeter of space between them. Speaking into Martin’s neck, whispered in fierce devotion, Jon promises, “Never again. Never again. You and me. Together. For the rest of our lives.”
Barely discernible through his sobbing, Martin tells him, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
~*~
There are people that think that wanting is more worthwhile than having. Martin thinks, frankly, that those people have never been in love.
#jonmartinweek2021#jonmartin#jon sims#martin blackwood#AHHH this is just over TWO THOUSAND words#i really was like for the last prompt i will not Shut Up lmao#also fun fact! part 4 was specifically designed to not be clear whether it was from jon or martins perspective
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helpless.
han joon hwi does all he can to save kang sol a. kang sol a, for the first time, realises she’s not alone.
ao3 link
notes: this has been manifesting in me ever since i saw the scene of sol a fainting. i’m sorry it’s so long, but i hope the law school fans like it! it’s my first time, but i’m open to request and improvements. do share with your fellow solhwi fans if you like it! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me.
edit: this is written by @inactiverat , which is MY secondary account. i did not copy this from someone else. both accounts belong to ME. i am republishing this on my primary blog to better manage.
words: 4130 words.
it’s been a terrible day for sol.
forget about a terrible day, it has been a week of horror.
she can’t remember the last time she laid her head on the pillow of her clean sheets and mattress. with her semester test coming on friday, she has spent the entire weekend cramming for her test. she has opted to sleep at her desk for no more than 10 minutes at a time. her eyes sting from the roll-on muscle relief ointment that she rolls on every few hours under her eyes. her head pounds and the only things she has eaten are ramyeon and black coffee. (no sugar, extra shots.)
sol sighs as she fixes another highlighter in her top bun. she’s been staring at the same question for hours. she looks over her desk, hoping to find peace by seeing a sleeping sol b, but only remembers that she went home. her tiger mom’s orders, since “she shouldn’t study with her roommate, who is at the bottom of the cohort.”
sol visibly frowned as she thought of that sentence. she doesn't need to be reminded every minute and second of her life that she’s the worst. that whenever she fails a test, the smarty pants are cheering due to the bell curve. that she barely scrapes through every class. that she blubbers and mutters answers like an idiot in every lecture.
that’s why she works so hard. to show that she doesn't need money or connections to succeed in this school. that a single parented girl, making enough to get by, holding a part time job can be like the rest. for her mom, she tolerated years of violent abuse, yet still being so strong for her children. for dan, who she so desperately misses and wants to find, even though she knows dan may never want to see her. for byeol, the reason why she decided to study law; the only human she loves in this lawless world.
sol knows she’s pushing herself too hard. yeseul made an effort to remind her to sleep via text. bokgi teased her once during a study group after mentioning she looks like a disheveled panda. even professor kim pulled her out of lecture to give her a talk to remind her to eat.
but joon hwi hasn't.
she internally scoffs. she doesn’t expect him to. (what does a second round judicial exam passer want to know about the worst student?) and maybe, she doesn't want him to. she wants to show him she can do it on her own. she can’t count the number of times he helped her with her grades and cases. studying alone without help was the smallest thing she can do to show him her independence.
thus, she found every moment to stay away. well, from him, in particular. she only came to lectures on time, sat at the back (as opposed to next to him) and left immediately. she returns to her dorm to study (ditching study groups with him in it) and only leaves in the odd hours to get drinks and food when she’s absolutely starving. she hears the buzzes and rings from yeseul and joonhwi, but only smiles when they ask about her inactivity. (“it was dead. i must have forgotten to charge it again.”)
she sighs in frustration and stands from her chair, grabbing her phone and keys out to the pantry area. she needed more caffeine, if she was going to survive this night.
what she doesn't expect to see, is han joon hwi, devouring his late night snack of ramyeon at the table. the shuffling of her furry slippers raises his head from his precious bowl.
“you’re still up?” he asks.
it’s too late to turn around and pretend she didn’t see him. so instead, sol just nods silently as opposed to her defensive remarks. joon hwi stops slurping his noodles and sets the bowl aside. preparing to walk to the staircase, his next question freezes sol in her steps.
“why have you been avoiding me?”
his voice is gentle and nowhere near angry. but concerned and fearful, as if he’s done something wrong to upset her. for a moment, sol feels like she’s in her first lecture with professor yang and is left speechless. (only now, there is no where to hide.)
joon hwi wasn’t blind to her actions. he noticed her absence when she didn’t sit next to him in lectures. he noticed that whenever he was there for a study group session, she wouldn’t; but when he would ask the others, they would say she was there for the ones he wasn’t. joon hwi was certain that sol was avoiding him.
and he couldn’t understand why.
until now.
joon hwi’s eyes examine the young woman in front of him. he’s certain that a middle school student could figure this out; kang sol a is overworked. her dark eye circles are prominent, puffy and her bloodshot eyes do nothing but intensify her lack of sleep. he noticed just how pale her lips look, as he walks over to her. how has she gotten skinnier too?
joon hwi’s certain that she’s avoiding him not because of something he said that annoyed her. but because he knows that she doesn’t want him to see her in this state. his eyes soften and heart aches from the amount of effort she's putting in to her tests.
for sol, he knows how much the tests meant. it was like her entire life depended on it. that’s why he always wanted to help her. he didn’t want to see such a talented person fall behind. she has already proven herself worthy with all the cases she has participated in. but joon hwi knows that no matter how many times yeseul or bokgi or him say how smart and talented and how she’s doing great, she will never be satisfied in this cold, competitive prestigious school. she will always think she’s the worst and has no potential.
“sol.” his voice firm and serious. sol swears she felt a chill run down. she mentally braces herself for this conversation that she has tried all means to avoid. only one person dares address her as just ‘sol’.
“when did you last sleep? or eat proper food?” his eyes are serious, yet soft and glassy. his voice is gentle and soothing. she closes her eyes and lets out a silent sigh. she is nowhere the mock court, yet she feels like she has taken the witness stand and the oath. lying is perjury, she hears herself say.
“i’m doing fine. i just need to do well on this test.” she lies through her teeth. well, it’s a half true and a half lie. it’s just up to him to pick out which is the lie and truth. joon hwi isn’t an idiot, and can read her emotions with just a single look. it’s an utter lie.
“i’m getting coffee.” she mutters to herself. it was the whole reason she came out, anyways. her sleeve is caught by him but she yanks it away forcefully. she doesn’t even know why she’s being so harsh and angry to him. all he’s done is just ask how she’s doing.
“you need sleep. not caffeine.” he spins her around by her shoulders, his eyes serious and almost frustrated. she fails to meet his eyes, afraid of falling apart before him.
“joon, just let me be.” she says harshly and pushes his hands off before running to get that extra potent coffee. it was the first time she has ever called him that, and it falls out just as naturally as the word ‘sol’ does out of his. sol doesn’t notice how wet her eyes are until she’s downstairs, grabbing cans of coffee from the vending machine. (pathetic, she thinks, getting teary because of lying to her best friend.)
joon hwi doesn't follow. and sol isn't one bit affected.
not. at. all.
-----
the next time sol sees joon hwi is in the morning. he’s carrying his books and has his backpack slung over his shoulder, leaning against the wall. sol braces herself. she knows joon hwi to be protective and caring. but for him to be waiting at the entrance of their dorm was downright surprising.
sol’s not doing any better. when the caffeine and sugar stopped her from staying late, she resorted to stabbing her hand to keep herself awake. when her hand got too red and bloody, she switched to another spot on her arm. underneath her hoodie is her arm with dried blood and bruises all over. she’s surprised she hasn’t had blood poisoning yet.
sol flashes the most natural smile she can on her face, pretending as if her argument with him did not happen a few hours ago. her head was numb, but hanging on with the ointment she applied at her temples. she needed to act okay. just so he would stop worrying and leave her alone.
“sol.” joon hwi’s voice calls, going forward and grabbing her arm to support her. sol is about to create a joke, laugh it off and pretend everything is okay, hopefully convincing him she’s doing better (even if she’s far from it.). but what she doesn’t anticipate is his hand accidentally squeezing the sore wound of hers,
she hisses as his fingers dig into her wound and he immediately lets go. joon hwi’s eyes well in concern, not knowing what he’s done that caused her so much pain. sol’s eyes meet his, uncertain and afraid, as if a secret has been exposed. she pulls her sleeve down and is almost regretting that when joon hwi gently lifts her arm and lifts her sleeve up slightly to expose her arm and hand.
joon hwi takes her good hand in his and drags her to an empty staircase not far from where they were. joon hwi notes the dried blood on her hand and gives a disapproving sigh. just what was she doing to herself? she draws her hand back and pulls her sleeve down, hiding it away.
“sol, you need to take care of yourself.”
“joon, i’m doing okay, i promise. it’s not a big deal.” her voice upbeat and slightly more energetic. joon hwi is about to call her out from lying, but she flashes a smile. “come on, how can an exam defeat me?”
“i’m going to be late.” she says and runs ahead of him, joining yeseul and yebeom in front. sol feels a gnawing guilt in her heart for lying, but she momentarily forgets about it as yebeom sweeps them into a conversation.
i’m sorry, joon. i really am. but i’m not going to burden you any further.
joon hwi is left, helpless and broken, watching the back of the woman he loves stray further.
-----
it isn’t a secret that joon hwi and sol a are good friends. everyone on campus is always shocked. joon hwi, the school’s top student. sol a, the school’s worst student. everyone would have expected sol b when they heard ‘kang sol’. after all, it made sense, didn’t it? the two best students in school.
but what would be even more shocking is that han joon hwi, second round judicial exam passer, is deep in love with kang sol, the klutz with the top bun.
joon hwi couldn’t deny the joy he felt whenever sol was around. it started with study group and tutoring and messages about school. then it became lunches every moment they could. now, he couldn’t go a day without seeing her, hearing her voice or even a simple text. he can’t remember the moment he started falling for the clumsy woman, but when he realised it, he knew it was too late. he was in, deep.
and that's why he can’t bear to see her suffer. that’s why he spends late nights studying with her even though he doesn't need to. that’s why he insist walking her home, even though he installed the camera. (“i miss byeol! that smart cookie...” would always be his excuse.) that’s why he calls her ‘sol’, and he lets her call him ‘joon’, even though no one calls him that anymore.
sol locks herself in her room and buries herself under multiple books after her lectures. sol admits it, she’s tired. she can barely keep herself together and her body is so weak she doesn’t know how she managed to survive the week with less than two hours of sleep combined per day. she can’t remember the last nap she had that lasted more than half an hour.
the guilt from lying is eating her inside. when she closes her eyes, she can only see how hurt joon hwi’s face looks when he saw her arm. taking a shaky breath in, she doesn’t notice the tear running down her cheek. what was she even crying about? lying? hurting her best friend? fatigue? she slams her head against her books, shaking her thoughts out. it’s already 3am, and she doesn’t have much time left.
“kang sol a, you need to do this exam, you hear me? if you want to pass out, do it later on in the afternoon! you have 9 hours till the test.” she scolds herself out loud. stabbing her arm once again, she jerks herself awake and writes her notes over and over. just 9 more hours.
later on in the day, sol finds herself seated next to joon hwi. but she doesn’t notice him. her eyes are too out of focus to concentrate on anything but the paper and pen she holds. when the teaching assistant makes an announcement to start, she races against time and scribbles furiously. her head throbs, but she clings on to her last ounce of sanity keeping herself awake.
-----
she’s worse. joon hwi thinks. much, much worse. her skin is paler than normal and her eyes are fluttery. with her sleeve pulled up slightly, he notices the wound on her hand more bloody than it was. he visibly winces. but it’s nothing to the hurt in his heart. he knows that he should be busy scribbling, but his eyes are slightly glassy and all he can think of is her bloody hand.
all he wants to do is to drag her away. to take her far from this school. he wants to hold her small body in his arms and cradle her as he tends to her wounds. he wants to tuck her into a soft bed and stroke her brown hair. he wants to tell her how he feels, how she’s perfect, smart and beautiful in his eyes. how sol has already had his validation, and no matter how many kang sols there are, he will only have one in his heart.
as the clock leaves a minute or so to the end, sol struggles to keep her head from falling. she just needs to finish the last sentence. her eyes are blurred and her head has never felt more tight and woozy. her ramyeon from 4am is threatening to make an appearance.
“sol, you’re bleeding.” she hears an familiar echoed voice say next to her. instinctively, she brings a hand up to her nose, and wipes it, revealing the bright red blood. she can’t care for her jacket sleeve and carelessly wipes even though her arm aches. just a bit more, she tells herself.
the voices around her blur as she feels hands on her shoulder stopping her. she pushes them off weakly as she finishes the last word on her paper. she lets out a breath of relief and pushes her paper away from her. she’s finally done. she can finally breathe and have that nap. someone calls her name, but she’s too tired to respond.
then her eyes rolls back and she crashes into oblivion.
joon hwi manages to catch her head before it hits the table as she slumps sideways. he scribbles his name on his paper before chucking his paper and hers towards the teaching assistant. yeseul passes a tissue over to joon hwi and shakes her, eyes getting teary. he gently blots her nose, soaking up the blood. the other students leave unbothered, with only their study group crowding around them.
the next hour is a mad rush in joon hwi’s head. they are frantic for an ambulance, but joon hwi just cradles her body in his arms and runs outside. “it’s faster to run.” he says before taking off. she’s light, way too light for her frame, even with the layered coats that she’s wearing. when he reaches the hospital, she’s laid on a stretcher and sent for checks while the nurses ask him to wait for short while outside.
and for the third time, he stands outside, clutching to a bloody tissue, helpless.
-----
joon hwi wants to beat himself over and over. he should have been more forceful with her. heck, he should have done more than just watch silently. he should have sent packed lunches, compiled his notes, offered to stay up with her. even after when he knows how much sol is suffering, he only stood by.
his eyes are teary when he is allowed to see her. she looks so small under those white sheets. the doctor mentions that they had to take her hoodie off to patch her wounds and insert her IV drip. “dehydrated on caffeine, lack of nutrients and fatigue.” the doctor tells him. he only nods as the doctor leaves him.
his group chat is pinging with endless messages and he takes a moment to update them. he sends a quick text that he’ll let them know when she’s awake. his hand brushes the stray hairs out of her eyes and as best as he can, arranges her bangs the way she likes. his touch is as light as a butterfly as he lets his fingers brush pass her bandages.
with the curtain closed around him, joon hwi lets himself crumble silently, as tears run down his face, hands gripping sol’s stained hoodie sleeve. he wishes he could do something then just watch sol lie on the bed. he knows she is okay, but knowing that he could have prevented this worse case scenario from happening makes him upset. he gives himself a few minutes to compose himself before taking his own hoodie and layering it on her.
and for hours, joon hwi sits by her bed in his own thoughts, once again helpless.
-----
when she wakes up, her head pounds worse than the time she got the worse hangover in school. her eyes flutter, drawing the attention of joon hwi. her mind is cloudy as she starts registering the antiseptic smell and bright lights. her eyes come into focus as she turns over to find a pair of warm brown eyes looking at her.
“joon hwi...?” she says with barely any energy.
“you’re awake.” joon hwi lets himself sigh in relief knowing that she’s awake. it’s already 6pm. the others should be on their way over soon. he sends a quick “she’s awake” to the chat and shuts his phone.
“i... finished my exam right?” the words come tumbling out of sol’s mouth.
“that’s all you are thinking of now?” the anger in joon hwi’s voice catches her by surprise. she lowers her hand and avoids his eyes. she’s really done it, then. she’s really pissed him off.
“aren’t you one bit concerned about your health? you could have literally died being so overworked.” his eyes are glassy. realising that he’s frightening her, he lets a sigh out. joon hwi helps her sit up and props a pillow for her. her fingers fiddle with the thin blanket of the bed. there’s no point being strong in front of him now, after all this.
“you know how much every test means to me.” she mutters in a voice so soft, it’s unlike her to be so...small. joon hwi knows under that strong woman with a fiery passion for justice, there’s a vulnerable little girl, insecure and uncertain. but this was the first time, he realised, that she’s opening up herself.
“i’m so tired, joon. i’m so tired of running this stupid rat race that i’ll never win. i’m so sick of putting everything into my grades and not receiving anything back.” her voice so small, staring at the bandages on her hand. was the pain worth it? she’s not sure now.
joon hwi doesn’t say anything back. how could he? this man was born for this system, to bring law back to the country. he can’t compare to her, who spends countless nights studying, while taking care of her family. all he can do is sit by her bed and provide comfort.
“my head hurts. my body aches all over. yet, i can’t seem to do well in my exams. tell me, joon. just how long must i suffer?” his heart is pierced with every word she says. she’s so broken. joon hwi then notices the small pearls of tears dripping down her face.
his hand reaches out and his thumb rubs away her tears on her cheeks. he doesn’t know what prompted this, but sol doesn’t swat his hand away. she lets him as her hand wipes her remaining tears away.
“i’m here now. you can rely on me.” he says softly to her. suddenly, he takes her small hand in his and squeezes it in comfort. sol’s slightly taken aback, but she doesn’t know why she feels fuzzy inside. she feels warm and for the first time, she feels her burden lifted. with much courage, she gives a small smile.
“noona!” they hear a familiar panicked voice ring and they instinctively draw away from each other. if joon hwi’s face is slightly red, sol doesn't notice. sol is swept away into arguing with bokgi with her health and a teary eyed yeseul. even jiho and sol b came, but stood by silently. (jiho notices joon hwi’s flushed cheeks and his too-bright smile that he finally realises is meant for kang sol a. he makes a mental note about it.)
joon hwi leans back as he watches yeseul and bokgi fuss with sol’s health. he suppresses a smile as he looks at sol’s light laugh, knowing how her burdens are slowly fading and lifted. that he’s finally managed to reach out for his soulmate as she sinks further. it was going to be a journey, but joon hwi will drag her, his sol, out from her darkness every time.
i’m going to be there, no matter what, kang sol. you will not fight alone. i will stay with you, even when you think you don’t deserve it. it doesn't matter if you feel the same towards me or not. if i can see you smile and laugh, it’s enough for me. your happiness is all that matters.
because kang sol, i just love you so damm much.
-----
sol doesn’t notice the switch in her jacket. when she leaves about an hour later with her friends to eat jjajangmyeon (extra pickles, she orders.), she assumes the jacket she has by her bed is hers. she doesn't notice the sandalwood and jasmine smell, as opposed to her pine scented fabrics. when joon hwi teases her and she argues back in annoyance, she’s carefree and light.
when joon hwi smiles at her with his sweet smile, she can’t help but think she’s so lucky that she has him, of all people, by her side. her heart skips a beat, and she’s certain that she feels more than friends towards him. that all this time, she has finally fallen for the cheeky and charming joon hwi behind his intellect.
she smiles back, teeth bared and eyes crinkled as they walk back.
after all, who is to stand against her now, when she has him by her side?
joon hwi, thank you for finding me no matter how much i try to hide away. thank you for believing in me when everyone didn’t. i know you like someone else, and it’s okay. because whoever that is will be so damm lucky to have you. to see you smile your charming smile is enough to put me at ease.
because han joon hwi, i admit, i have fallen for you. i’m in love with you.
-----
bonus:
“noona, they like each other, don’t they?” bokgi watches as sol a barks at joon hwi. joon hwi only runs ahead and buries his hands in his hoodie pockets while letting out light laughs and continues teasing.
“oh, they are so whipped for each other.” yeseul triumphantly says as she walks with the rest behind the not-so-obvious lovebirds.
well, this would be an interesting relationship to see unfold.
#jtbc law school#law school#law school kdrama#law school jtbc#jtbc drama#jtbc#kang sol a#kang sol b#kang sol a x han joon hwi#ryu hye young#kim beom#kim bum#han joon hwi#joonsola#solhwi#jo ye beom#seo ji ho#jeon yeseul#min bok gi#original by akinosakiya#solhwi by aki
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Suicidal Misunderstanding XXV
Part I - - - - - - - - - - Part XXII - - - - Part XXIII - - - - Part XXIV
Star Wars Time Travel AU #27
The nature of the Jedi Temple was such that years could pass unnoticed within the ethereal, eternal walls—and then a number of factors would converge simultaneously, and wreck all that.
In this case, dawn, rumors, and Quinlan Vos were all meeting in an abrupt and tremulous clash.
Rumors and daylight, of course, were well known for their power to occupy multiple spaces at the same time. Quinlan Vos’s apparent ability to do so (for nothing else could explain his gentle but thorough interrogation of padawans in the sallies, his generous provisions of drinks for over-wrought nocturnal jedi, and his unauthorized access to closed off personal quarters, all in an impossibly short period time) was far more inexplicable, and therefore technically admirable.
Master Gallia did not feel admiring at the moment. She felt tired.
“Where. Is. Obi-Wan?” Quinlan repeated.
Adi Gallia danced around him, continuing on her stroll of the temple grounds. She released a flash of irritation into the force—of course Masters Koon, Windu, and Yoda all were shipped off for their own (admittedly grim) assignments, leaving her responsible for ‘local’ issues. She had accepted the possibility of intense political fallout, of course. She was prepared to soothe the worries of those still in-temple, who were just starting to pick-up on the certainly-not-an-evacuation. She had been less ready to deal with an incensed psychometric interfering in matters beyond his understanding.
“Classified,” she repeated, as neutrally as ever.
“Do you really want to have the rest of this conversation in front of the whole Order?” he hissed. “I went to his quarters, I felt—” Vos shuddered.
Gallia sighed, tension headache growing. “Come with me.”
She glided serenely to her personal office space, Vos trailing her like the irritable shadow he was.
The door clicked.
“I know he tried to kill himself,” he said bluntly. The Councillor winced slightly; even knowing the context didn’t change the very real and tragic brush with death. “I saw Skywalker see it.”
Master Gallia didn’t reply—there was no point in denying, and every point in gaining information.
“Do you know what Obi-Wan felt?” he asked manically.
The Tholothian Master took an involuntary step back. Part of her thought it would be more expedient to simply bring the man into the fold, but another part hesitated at trusting the already thinly stretched secret to a man who was, by Master Kenobi’s own admittance, far closer to falling than anyone realized. It was scarcely his fault—shadow work was dangerous, even when the galaxy wasn’t in the grips of a Sith-engineered galactic war, but still—
“Nothing!” he cried, slaming his palms on her desk in an alarming loss of control. “A brief feeling of panic when his hand was on the vibroblade and then fucking serenity as he tried to stab himself in the heart!”
“Master Vos—” she tried to say placatingly, but he was having none of it.
“Please,” he begged. “I know I can get through to him, just tell me where he is.”
“Quinlan Vos—you’re just going to have to trust the High Council to have Master Kenobi’s best interests in mind.”
He stared at her for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. “You lost him, didn’t you?”
“Quinlan—”
The Kiffar barked out a laugh, pointing a finger in outraged accusation. “He woke up, half the galaxy felt that—and then he ran off, and now he’s somewhere, hurt, and the Council can’t spare the resources or the pride to help him!”
She hesitated—that was the cover story, one that would conceivably spread; but it felt deeply cruel to leave the Kiffar floundering in it. If only he was slightly less angry...
Vos took a deep breath. “Fine,” he said shortly. “The Council wants to keep his status under wraps—that’s fine; he wouldn’t want everyone knowing he’s vulnerable, anyway. Just give me what you have, and I’ll track him.”
Adi Gallia drummed her fingers on her rattled desk for a moment, before letting go of a half-truth. “We suspect he’s going after Count Dooku,” she said finally, suppressing any guilt she felt for the half-lie, or for causing Quinlan’s expression to twist tighter, when she could so easily relieve him of his burden.
“And?” he pressed.
Adi looked away. “Knight Skywalker’s with him, in some capacity,” she grit out.
Quinlan snorted. “Obviously.” Gallia’s lips tightened.
“Is that it?” he asked exasperated. “You’re not going to even give me his file?”
“You don’t have it already?” she asked drly.
“I’ve got the bathashit official one you gave to the Chancellor,” he admitted, immediately and unrepentantly. “Where you all but threw him under a moving speeder,” he added hostily.
Master Gallia winced. “Master Vos,” she tried again. “The Council has a plan. I regret that I cannot tell you it, but I beg of you—have faith in us for a little longer—don’t go after him.”
Quinlan’s expression tightened. “Is the plan for the good of Obi-Wan, or the good of the Council? Because sure, I know which Obi-Wan would prefer, and so do you—and I. Don’t. Agree.”
Gallia rubbed her temples, skull throbbing with tension. “And that’s why I can’t trust you with anything else,” she admitted, completely honest.
Quinlan nodded sharply. “May the force be with you, Master Gallia.”
“And with you, Quinlan Vos,” she replied sadly.
Quinlan stalked out, and Gallia took a brief moment to pity the both of them before returning to work.
- - -
Ventress skulked in the corner of a dingy bar, cursing Kenobi once again. A few hours on this miserable planet and all she had were rumors to go on. Obviously something had happened to the golden boy, but the underworld seemed even more puzzled than the kriffing Jedi. It was only a matter of time before the public caught wind, and then the gossip would become hopelessly entangled with the actually important whispers.
Sneaking into the Temple itself would be a worthy test of her skills—but if she was captured...well needless to say there would be no aid from Dooku. Had she not felt the Negotiator’s presence during the flight she might have believed this were some irritating test of her Master’s but this...
The Dathomori grimaced into her drink. If nothing else, Kenobi was a fearsome adversary—anything that could have riled him—possibly defeated him once in for all...Ventress hated to admit but she might be out of her depth.
“Is this seat taken?”
She looked up in irritation at a human male with a cocky grin, a gold face tattoo, and skin as dark as hers was pale. The idiot was already pulling out the seat, apparently utterly oblivious of her open contempt— not to mention the chill of the dark side she was deliberately projecting around her.
“Yes,” she snapped. “Now leave, before I remove you. Violently.”
He grinned wider, leaning in. “Oh don’t be like that. Now, what’s a beautiful woman like yourself doing in a place like this?”
The fool then had the audacity to reach over, lightly brushing her hand. She grabbed the wrist, pinning it to the table. “Do. Not. Touch Me. You vile worm.”
“Aah! Okay, okay!” he babbled in panic. “Sorry, my mistake, thought you seemed hot and a little lonely, that’s all, miss 100 percent of the shots you don’t take, you know? Wasn’t trying to cop a feel or anything I swear! I’ll go now, promise.”
She felt an odd tingling sensation run through her, starting at the single point of contact between them. She frowned, unable to classify it. He smiled charmingly. and she released him as if burnt.
“You’re a Jedi,” she hissed, hand dropping to the sabers beneath the table. The tingling sensation faded. “What was that?”
The open panic disappeared, wholly replaced by the earlier smirk. “And you’re a Sith.” He flexed his hand before tucking it into a pocket. “Nothing to worry about. Just needed your help with an investigation.” He stood, bowing mockingly. “Thank you for your time.” And then he was gone, fading into the shadows.
She leapt to her feet, running outside and snagging him from his hiding spot behind a crate.
“What sort of Jedi shadow walks?” she asked, pressing him to the wall at bladepoint, careful not to allow any other point of contact between them. He looked at her as though she were an idiot, and her cheeks heated slightly.
“You do realize I have to kill you now, right?” she snarled. “Can’t exactly have a Jedi Shadow telling people where I am”
“You’re not my mission, darling,” he replied, flashing teeth. “Far as I’m concerned, this never happened.”
She narrowed her eyes, digging the tip of her knife into his throat. The Shadow looked deeply unconcerned. “But you thought I might be?” she questioned slyly.
He shrugged. “Sith Apprentice, half a galaxy away from the front off the war? Figured you might be up to trouble, yeah. Fortunately for both of us—as I’m sure an actual fight would be a massive and mutual inconvenience—whatever trouble you’re here for has nothing to do with me. I’ve got bigger fish to fry, you’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’d offer to buy you a drink but I’m fairly certain you’d throw it in my face so...”
He delicately pressed a finger to the knife at his edge. Bemused, she allowed him to push it away.
“And you got all that from touching my hand,” she asked incredulously, curious of his power despite herself.
He waggled his digits playfully. “Magic fingers.”
She scoffed. “Even if you were a psychometric—” She cut herself off, eyes flickering to the face tattoo.
“Kiffar,” she breathed. “Of course. My gloves—but it was just a moment, what—ah.” She smirked. “Kenobi. You just wanted to know if I had been around him.”
“And now I know you haven’t.” He shrugged. “Anyway, have fun on Coruscant; good luck not getting arrested.”
He started to amble away at a deceptively casual stroll. She fell into lock step.
“You’ve lost him,” she accused.
He shrugged. “Sure, why not,” he agreed mildly. She narrowed her eyes.
“Some of the Jedi fear their golden boy might have fallen,” she guessed with absolute confidence, but neither his face nor his force presence gave anything away—and she was following him to a secondary location like a fool.
Ventress lunged but the Jedi was dancing backwards, slipping into a nearby shadow. He fell into it sideways—completely, but crudely. She wheeled around, scanning the perpetually dim alleyway. One shadow grew darker—she threw a dagger and a patch of dark detached, hissing and bleeding a satisfying scarlet.
“Is there a point to attacking me,” he asked impatiently, saber finally appearing in his hand, though it stayed unlit. “I already told you that I don’t care what you’re doing here. What possible advantage could you gain in picking a fight with me? Even if you win, don’t you think the Jedi would notice if a shadow went missing on Coruscant?”
“You really have no problem letting a Sith run around your precious Core world?” she asked skeptically, throwing another dagger. He dodged it, and it lodged itself in the brickwork. A random passerby immediately stole it—kriff she hated this world— but Asajj couldn’t chace after the parasite now, because the Jedi was throwing a—rock?
The window behind her shattered as she dodged the wild shot, and an incoherent roar spilled out, along with foul smelling water, and eye stalk, and the first few of what looked many tentacles.
“Oh you play dirty,” she breathed, reluctantly impressed. He hit her with a two fingered salute, disappearing again, this time by swaggering slowly around a corner. And then she had to focus on fighting a pissed off Dianoga whose tankhome had just been vandalized.
By the time she mortally wounded the garbage squid, the trail for her first and best lead on Kenobi had nearly gone cold.
Nearly.
Part XXVI
#star wars#star wars fanfiction#quinlan vos#asajj ventress#star wars au#my au#suicidal misunderstanding au#star wars au no 27
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Anger issues w/ Dabi, Bakugou and Aizawa
Request: I’m the type of person who doesn’t get angry very easily but when I do I’m really scary and people back off. Can I request Dabi, Bakugou and either Shiggy or Aizawa with a girlfriend who is just like that and the first time they see her angry they are so confused like how did their quiet s/o turn into the devil. Thank you.
Lmao I’m like that as well. Big mood. People underestimate me and think they can walk all over me just because I’m polite. Bitch nah imma stab you in your sleep in 2-3 business days. Love ya.💖💖💖
masterlist
rules
warnings: cursing, some violence, threats *creative ones as well*
Dabi/Touya Todoroki
-Baby was the equivalent of the pikachu meme.
-You were both chillin at his place watching TV.
-Actually he was laying down, head in your lap as he played Among us on his phone while you changed channels in an attempt to find something interesting to watch.
-As you were mindlessly zapping through the channels you stumbled upon an interview with none other than the number 1 hero, Endeavor himself.
-Your finger froze over the channel button as you stared at the hero in front of you.
-You felt Dabi stiffen in your lap, his character staying still on the screen as his father’s voice bounced off the walls of the small apartment.
- “Doll could you change th-”
- “I’m thinking of retiring, yes. My family is my top priority and I would like to spend some quality time with them. Family is very imp-”
- “Shut your clown ass up!”
-The remote went flying barely missing the TV as you launched it at the hero’s face.
- “If I have to hear any more bullshit coming out of your mouth I will march to wherever you are and beat you to a fucking plump got it?”
- “Babe he can’t hear you.”
- “I don’t give a shit! He will hear me when my hands are squeezing his WINDPIPE!”
-And with that you shot up from the couch, sending Dabi rolling to the floor in the process.
-Marching out of the living room, he heard the door slam shut and then a muffled scream before the only sound was the words coming from the TV.
-He had whiplash after that.
-He didn’t know what exactly happened but he was glad in some weird way.
-He knows that you don’t get angry easily, hell he couldn’t get you to snap at him even when he tried his best.
-Sure he irritates you but you have never actually snapped like this before.
-Your calm and collected nature calms him down so seeing you curse and be so violent all of a sudden got him riled up.
-Making his way to your shared room he opened the door finding you curled up on your bed with an angry expression on your face.
-Nose scrunched up, mouth in a scowl and brows furrowed.
-Letting out a small chuckle he took his place behind you bringing his lanky arms around your waist as he turned you around,your nose barely grazing his, eyes burning holes in his chest.
-He brought his forefinger in between your brows and made small circles at the spot, watching as your facial expression relaxed a bit but the scowl was still there.
- “Stop thinking about it you’ll get a headache.”
- “I wanna punch him in the dick.”
- “I wanna do that too but it can wait.”
-Kissing your forehead first he started trailing little pecks all over your face, being satisfied by the small giggles he could get out of you.
-This is why I love you.
Bonus:
- “That was the hottest thing I have seen.”
- “You are getting dommed tonight, lover boy.”
- *flustered burned boy*
Bakugou Katsuki
-He is the one who is angry in your relationship.
-We’ve been new.
-You are his damage control, you can always calm him down and put some sense into him.
-Most of the time he listens to your every word.
-So everyone assumed that since you put up with his shit without batting an eyelash, never showing a sign of anger, you can’t get angry.
-That your anger was that little puff of your cheeks and scrunch of your nose that Bakugou adores.
-No one has ever seen you angry so you don’t blame them.
-But everyone has that one thing that just makes them snap *for me it’s Endeavor*
-You were training with class 1-B when that dickhead Monoma decided to fuck with your boyfriend.
-They were fighting, throwing insults at each other non-stop when Monoma decided to be a dick.
- “Why are you even in this class huh? You would be more useful to the villains. It would be so easy for you too, I bet you don’t need much of a push to join them, don’t you Bakugou.”
-Bakugou may not like talking about it but you know.
-The thoughts that haunt him.
-He was kidnapped and saw his idol be brought down because the League believed that he would make a great entry to their group.
-His own mind works against him sometimes, reminding him of the looks of fear most of the people in his life have when it comes to him.
-He hates it.
-What breaks him even more though is being reminded out loud about those thoughts.
-Having them confirmed by someone else.
-He had stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the other boy in pure horror when he saw a flash of color and Monoma was now laying face down a few feet away.
-You were panting, hands clenched in fists as you stared at the boy in outer disgust, a vein popping on your forehead.
-Bakugou was silent watching your shoulders frantically going up and down, pure rage emanating from your demeanor.
-In the blink of an eye you were on top of Monoma, lifting him off the ground, a snarl escaping your lips.
- “You fucking piece of shit I’ll fucking stab your parents if you say anything like that again!”
-Everyone was shooketh.
-Absolutely terrified but still shooketh.
-Monoma scrambled off the moment you let him go spewing apology after apology.
- “Baby you okay?”
-How the fuck was your voice back to normal? How was it so soft as if nothing happened? As if you didn’t just pin down and threaten someone.
- “Y-Yeah I’m fine.”
-The class was afraid of you for the next four months.
Bonus:
- “Baby, you got so fired up.”
- “No one talks shit about you!”
- “I know but wow that was hot.”
Aizawa Shouta
-Shouta is used to the comments made about him.
-People doubt him as both a hero and a teacher at times and he has learned not to let it get to him.
-He believed that you had closed those comments off as well, you didn’t show any signs of them bothering you at least.
-Sure you might make a small comment whenever you hear something but you never snapped at someone.
-He knew that you prefered tranquility, it was his calm nature that attracted you in the first place *and the fact that he was smoking hot*.
-So when you actually snapped at someone he was taken aback and super turned on.
-Like wow that woman right there giving someone a heart attack is his wife?
-Wow.
-You were both at a hero conference, meeting up with some of your old colleagues to catch up and to get some insight in the hero industry.
-Yall wanted the tea.
-You two were attached to the hip, never leaving each other's side as you enjoyed yourselves.
-You were chatting with a retired heroine who had helped you in the past when you heard murmuring coming from behind you.
- “I heard that one of his students got kidnapped during the summer.”
- “Of course he would let that happen, what could he possibly be a reliable individual? He was a delinquent and a vigilante, irresponsibility is in his blood.”
-Shouta felt you stiffen as your gaze shadowed over.
- “Kit- um Y/N?”
-The two continued dissing your husband and you tried to calm yourself down, you really did.
-But they made it really really hard.
- “He went on live television and gave excuses for that whole ordeal.”
- “You think he was trying to pass the blame?”
- “Of course he was! He has no sense of dignity, leaving his students to fight while he slept and then letting one of them be kidnapped like that.”
-Now he started getting scared because your grip on his arm had tightened and you wouldn’t look at him.
-He thought that you were having a panic attack and it's OUR panic attack so the convention would have to deal with two UA teachers breaking down.
-But then you let go and a sweet smile appeared on your face as you made your way to the duo.
- “It comes from the bottom of my heart when I say that I need you to sit you maniac ass down and be quiet for the rest of the fucking night because don’t think I would hesitate to beat your punkass in front of all those people. If I hear Shouta’s name come out of your lips again I will personally make sure that you won’t be able to formulate words for the next five fucking months.”
-Not even a peep came out of those two for the rest of the evening, their eyes always darting between you and your husband, cold sweat running down their spines every time one of you made eye contact with them.
- “Y/N, kitty, that wasn’t necessary.”
- “You talk shit you get wrecked, period.”
Bonus:
- “Come on Shouta we’re going home.”
- “We’ve only been here for an hour, kit-”
- “You are either blowing my back out or staying here, choose.”
- “Home it is.”
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#bnha#bnha x reader#bnha x you#bnha x y/n#mha#mha x reader#mha x you#mha x y/n#dabi#dabi x you#dabi x y/n#dabi x reader#touya todoroki#bnha touya#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou x y/n#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki#bnha bakugo katsuki#aizawa shouta#aizawa x reader#aizawa x yamada#aizawa x y/n#aizawa shouta x reader#aizawa is daddy#reader insert#y/n
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Old (2021)
Oh you guys. You guyyyyyys. Buckle the fuck up, I am so pumped to tell you about this absolutely GONZO mummified deuce of a movie. Spoilers will be had in this one, because you need to know everything.
Old is the latest from M. Night Shyamalan and like....I think we all know M. Night’s track record. For every Sixth Sense, we also get a Happening or a Village. In some ways, he’s the most exciting director working today because every new film is a 50/50 coin toss, and mama loves living on the edge. The gist of this latest roll of the dice is that a group of different families who have all come to stay at a remote luxury beach resort get invited to go to a secluded private beach for the day, and after they arrive they discover they can’t leave. That’s not great, but the bigger problem is that they seem to be aging rapidly - like 2 years older every hour or so. That’s a solid “how are we gonna get outta this one” bottle episode premise, and in the hands of a better writer, it could be a fun sci-fi romp. M. is NOT that writer.
Some thoughts:
I should have known it would all go wrong from the terrible foreshadowing starting at the very beginning scene. The mom of our main family, Prisca (Vicky Krieps) says “You have such a beautiful voice, I can’t wait to hear it when you’re older.” The dad, Guy (Gael Garcia Bernal) says, “Don’t rush this moment, enjoy the present while you can.” BECAUSE THE CHARACTERS WON’T BE ABLE TO LATER, DO YOU GET IT? dO yOU GEt iT? Wife leaned over and said “look at all the ferns - the oldest plants!” That last one was probably her projecting, but the point stands: there is nothing subtle about Old.
There’s a lot of just like, shouting out loud the things that are currently happening onscreen. ���She’s having a seizure!” “People who go back the way we came black out!” “The rust has entered your bloodstream; it acts like poison!” That’s how you tell stories, right? Just having characters point out events that are occurring right in front of their stupid fucking faces with no other commentary or reflection?
An additional element that feels woefully ignorant at best and malicious at worst is the inclusion of a black male character (Aaron Pierre) who 1) is a rapper 2) is named Mid-Sized Sedan [I’ll give you a moment to deal with that detail emotionally] 3) says the single line of dialogue “Damn.” at least 4 times and 4) suffers the bloodiest, most violent onscreen death at the hands of a racist white man who is revealed to have paranoid schizophrenia. There are other gruesome deaths onscreen, to be sure, but the worst are body horror nightmares that could never occur in the real world - a woman whose bones are breaking and setting in the wrong position nearly instantaneously until she resembles a horrifying spider creature, and the aforementioned rust-in-the-bloodstream trick that leads to a Jeff-Goldblum-in-The Fly-bubbling-skin infection kinda deal. But Mid-Sized Sedan just gets stabbed in the chest repeatedly, brutally, a bunch of times by a white guy who pleads fear for his life even though MSS posed no danger to him, and it all happens onscreen when so many other characters are offered the mercy of offscreen deaths. I’m not sure if M. is trying to throw some real-world horror in and he’s just shit at it, or if it really didn’t occur to him how malicious this inclusion feels in a fantasy narrative, and I don’t really care. If you have a black character in your story and they die, you better think really long and hard about how it happens and what it means and it’s clear no one did that here.
Nothing to do with the film itself, but it did tickle me that someone brought a tiny infant to my pretty packed screening. The baby was very chill, thank goodness, and as far as I know did not age up to a kindergartner during the course of the film.
There is a Very Good Dog, a Yorkie, present for the first part of the film, but unfortunately the dog dies. It occurs offscreen, and given the premise of what’s going on on this beach, it’s not a shock when it happens BUT STILL.
The old age makeup, at least on Prisca is pretty great. Good job makeup department!
At one point, Guy gets attacked by another beachgoer, and his eyesight is failing so he has a hard time fighting back. But you are surrounded by sand, my dude, and you can still see blurry shapes. You’re not gonna throw some sand in the eyes until you’ve been stabbed like 10 times? Not gonna try to push him down, or sweep the fucking leg, or do anything but just keep raising your arms and getting stabbed while yelling “I’ll protect you!” I’ve seen stale tuna sandwiches with better defense mechanisms than you.
Like most fantastical premises, there are only a certain number of ways this narrative can end that really make any sense. It reminds me quite a bit of 2019’s Brightburn which was like “what if Superman but evil?” Either everyone is gonna die, or someone is going to improbably survive and you better have a real neat explanation for how that’s possible. Oh M. Night, when will you realize that your explanations are never as clever as you think they are? There’s no “twist” here really, simply a reveal, and it’s the equivalent of eating one of those sugar-free, gluten-free, egg-free, dairy-free snack cakes I broke down and ate out of desperation when I was on Weight Watchers. That shit is “food” in the same way that the climax is a “logical explanation for all this.” Big Pharma is luring sick people to the resort through targeted ads, then arranging these excursions to the wacky time beach in order to test how medicine they secretly slipped into the guests’ drinks works over decades of life. These sneaky medical breakthroughs are saving hundreds of thousands of people’s lives, we’re told, and the scientists offer a moment of silence for each fallen group of unwitting human lab rats after they inevitably die. Because if there’s one thing the world needs right now, it’s more distrust of pharmaceutical companies and the ethics of modern science! I can’t think of one possible reason we’d want to portray molecular biologists, immunologists, and virologists in a positive light right now, can you? When will those assholes get off their high horses and stop being universally trusted and beloved by everyone, am I right??
My saddest takeaway, tbh, is that this is a stacked international cast, with at least half the roles going to POC - this is the future liberals want, etc etc - and the result is THIS.
Did I Cry? Of course not.
Not all is terrible! It’s a beautiful movie to look at, because M. Night’s direction is never the problem, but combined with the script, the acting, and the absurd narrative leaps needed to make this story make even a little bit of sense, the whole thing turns into a mess. Unfortunately, getting Old with M. Night is less “leisurely retirement at a plush resort in Florida” and more “rancid can of Ensure and a poop-choked pair of Depends.”
If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.
#121in2021#old#old movie#old 2021#m. night shyamalan#old review#vicky krieps#gael garcia bernal#alex wolff#aaron pierre#movie reviews#film reviews
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Hey... Could you maybe... Could you make a oneshot consisting of Bakugou's older sibling reader (I'd prefer it to be gender neutral with a more masculine style, however you prefer) x Midnight? 🥺🥺 I love her so much and Horikoshi did her dirty. You can do whatever oneshot that you want/comes to mind, I just want something fluffy. Thank you UwU
Udk how much I squealed getting this as my first ask!
(also whoever you are you made my day/week/month (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ)
I agree, Horikoshi did her dirty. She had some moments but that was IT. I tried my best, hope you like it!!
(it's more of a you being a hero and being in a relationship with Nemuri rather than a one-shot surrounding your relationship, but there's a bunch of fluffy stuff at the end, so gehe-)
Tags: Midnight x Bakugo's Older Sibling! Reader, Binaural, Fluff, Minor Cursing, Mentions of Blood
Your Quirk: Liquid Maker - You conjure a liquid in your hands (smtg like sweat) when you want to and it can become anything. Name it, you got it hun <3
Synopsis: You are a hero (obviously gehe-) and you were catching some villains. Suddenly a huge explosion came from the middle of Musutafu and you headed straight to the crime scene.
Word Count: 2163
SFW Masterlist ◍ Navigation ◍ Requesting Guidelines ◍ Ask here!
You woke up to the sweet smell of smoke coming from the living room. Groaning, you got off your comfortable bed and raced to the living room to stop Bakugo from his daily antics.
"You really got to stop doing this in the morning, Katsuki," you told the younger male, "It's literally," you looked at the clock, "8 am in the morning and my half-asleep self could've gotten hurt stopping you from breaking all hell loose."
Katsuki scoffed while looking at you. "Why aren't you at work yet? As you said, it's already 8 am."
"Later shift today! I only start at around 10 am."
"Wow, aren't you lucky?" Katsuki said as he walked towards the stove, "I'm making pancakes, but I won't make even one for you until you go bathe. You look disgusting."
"Okay, okay." You say, raising your hands and rushing to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
After bathing, you head back into your room and began to wear your skin-tight hero suit.
You groaned slightly as you slowly pulled the form-fitting clothing up your body.
"I swear to God this isn't getting easier."
"You are literally a fatass, so I'm not surprised," you heard Katsuki scream from the kitchen, "I pity Midnight. The fact she needs to be around a literal piece of garbage who doesn't even look good."
"At least I have someone, unlike your childish ass."
"I am a child," he retorted.
You sigh as you open your room door and head back to the kitchen.
"One day, you're going to wish you were nicer to the people around you."
"Maybe," Katsuki said while passing you a plate with a stack of three pancakes, "...but I am pretty sure you aren't going to be one of them, judging by how much you baby me."
"But you are a child! Didn't you say so a few minutes ago?" you say as you pinch his cheeks, earning a growl from him, "Woah, calm down dog."
"Shut up and eat, fatass."
You chuckle at his words and proceed with the order given by your younger brother.
You loved getting later shifts on Fridays. These were the quieter days in the Bakugo household. Mom usually took her extra days off on Fridays like today, extending her weekend. Dad left for work earlier on Fridays but he'd always buy some spicy thing for Katsuki and you to have in the morning. Something to wish us a good day, I presume. And to top it all off, you and Katsuki would have these "sibling" moments, which mostly consisted of you annoying him to the point he'd lash out at you.
"You're a really good cook, Katsuki. These pancakes keep getting better!" you compliment the 10-year old.
And there it was: you entertainment of the day - Katsuki trying to say thank you but failing miserably thanks to his own pride as a "man".
"T-than- that's obvious, isn't it?" he ends, a blush present on his face, "I make pancakes every single time you have a later shift because you like it. If I'm getting better, that means you've been getting more later shifts. That means you've been slacking off, you stupid Pro Hero!"
"...how did you even get to that idea?"
After calming down a raging Katsuki, you put on your gear and head to the entrance of the house.
"Have a good day at school, Katsuki. Don't do anything you'd regret," you playfully warn him before leaving the house.
The streets of Musutafu were usually peaceful. Ever since All Might became the Symbol of Peace, the crime rates have dropped extensively. Yet, there are always one or two little naughty kids that wanted to play with their quirks - or in simpler terms, people who act like kids and try to do minor crimes using their quirks.
Using the liquid formed in your hands, you aimed at the legs of the two running males in black and wrap their legs together. Within a second, the liquid instantly formed into a rope and bounded their legs together, forcing them to fall face down.
"You both gave me a good morning run, thanks for that!" You say as you place two handcuffs around their wrists, "But you should seriously think about another hobby besides stealing."
From afar, you heard a loud boom coming from the middle of Musutafu.
In an instant, you formed another bunch of rope and tied the two males around their waist and pushed them to the corner of a building.
"Run away and you'll get more than just jail time," you say as you rush off to the scene.
The minute you reached the scene, your eyes widened in fear.
Endeavor was the reason behind the whole catastrophe here?
From behind, you felt a pair of soft hands touch your shoulder.
"I know what it looks like, but trust me it isn't," Nemuri started, "A villain that has a mind control quirk is controlling Endeavor from a distance. I've been trying to locate them, but no luck."
You smiled, looking at your girlfriend.
"You managed to get all of that in a few seconds?" you ask, amazed, "I got a good one, didn't I?"
You felt Midnight pinch you from behind.
"As much as I appreciate the compliment, now isn't the time to flirt with me," the female hero said.
You nod, washing away the playful smile.
"You get all the civilians out of here and contact the heroes through the network. I'll try to get him down and knock him out," you say. Nemuri nodded and began to gather the civilians away from the scene.
"Now," you turn to face the 2nd best hero, "How does one take down someone much, much more stronger than you?"
You slowly gathered your liquid in your palm, allowing the fluid to grow in volume.
"You defeating Endeavor would be a sight to behold, not going to lie here," the villain said through Endeavor, "But I am willing to test out that theory."
You lunged at the fire user while creating a fire-resistant rope to tie him down in your hand. In the other, you managed to conjure a Haladie sword - a sword you've trained with ever since your days in UA.
Using the sword, you managed to propel yourself above Endeavor and cut his back. Using the momentum you built, you used both your feet to hit the back of Endeavor's knees, forcing him to kneel.
You immediately stabbed his dominant hand, preventing him from reacting quickly.
With a snap, the Haladie sword transformed back into its liquid state and wrapped around his left hand.
"I was never planning on defeating Endeavor but merely securing him, dear villain of mine," you say as you transformed the liquid around his left hand into a quick-cancelling glove, "It’s one point for Y/N, right now. No point for little Mindy over here."
You began to build up more liquid in your hands to hopefully form another Haladie sword or at least a blade.
The controlled Endeavor began to get up slowly and turn to face you.
"I didn't peg you to be a dumb one, Y/N."
You felt a blade pierce through your stomach.
A civilian sobbed as they pressed the blade deeper into your body, your blood dripping onto their office coat.
"I can't believe you let your guard down so easily. It was your fault to assume I could only control one person at a time, little hero," the controlled civilian said midst crying.
"And that will be your downfall," Endeavor said as small flames began to grow from the palm of his right hand.
The knife that once was in your body was violently ripped out of your body by the controlled civilian and then used to kill themself by piercing their heart.
Tears fell as you saw the now lifeless male bleed to death right beside you.
"Oh don't worry," Endeavor said, "I'll make sure you also go with him, too. That small wound won't kill you, I know that."
You saw Midnight running towards you along with Eraserhead and All Might.
"You know, I always pictured you crying over a dead Nemuri Kayama whilst bleeding from your stomach, have you?"
Your eyes widened at the statement.
There was no way you were going to let that villain kill her.
"Eraser," you screamed, "Erase his quirk and get Midnight out of here."
'Please don't fail on my now, buddy,' you told to your body as you ran towards Endeavor, 'You still have to live for the people you love.'
You quickly formed another Haladie sword and vaulted from the floor towards Endeavor.
You managed to grab the hand aimed at Midnight and pushed it towards you. Using the remainder fluid you had, you formed another quirk-cancelling glove on Endeavor's right hand.
You could hear a sigh of relief from both Nemuri and Shouta, making you smile.
From afar, you heard All Might saying that he caught the villain that was controlling both the civilian and Endeavor. You were shocked when you heard the number one hero's laugh of victory.
You were amazed at the skill the male had.
A villain that took two people to search for was found by him in a few minutes.
Soon, the wound formed by the dead civilian began to take effect as your vision became hazy.
Before you could lose consciousness, you felt Nemuri's hands wrap around you, catching you before you fell.
When you woke up, you heard the sound of hospital monitors beeping. You felt a small hand gripping around your left hand.
"Why did you let them stab you, idiot," you heard your younger brother say, "Don't go teaching me a lesson with your death - it won't work."
You chuckled, looking at the younger blonde. "If this doesn't work on you, I don't know what will."
Katsuki began to sob on your blanket while gripping on the four fingers his small fingers could grip.
"It's okay, Kacchan," you saw a green-haired boy patting his back, "He is here and he is alive. That is all that matters, okay?"
You smiled, looking at the greenette.
"What's your name?" you ask him.
"I'm Izuku Midoriya! I'm friends with Kacchan," he says with a beaming smile.
"Kacchan, huh?" you tease, "You are really close friends with Kacchan, aren't you?"
Before Izuku could reply, you felt Katsuki pinch your leg.
"I don't even know why I care for you, you fatass."
"Oh, how you wound me," you feign sadness as the ten-year-olds left your room.
You smile at the sight of the greenette consoling your brother as they walk out of the room.
You look up to the ceiling, sighing.
"You are a bit too young to be sighing so loudly, Y/N," Nemuri said as she slowly opened the door, "I saw what you did there. Don't tease Katsuki so often, he is quite mature for his age, you know?"
You smile, looking at Nemuri with her hands on her waist.
"He's growing too fast. I need small moments like this to remember how innocent he is before he becomes the raging little twit I know he'll become."
"Woah, Woah, Woah," she says, laughing, " 'Raging little twit'? You really are a bad brother."
You begin laughing, "I have to be the playful one or else the Bakugo's would be a family of three brooding people and one peaceful man."
"True."
Your eyes widen.
"You aren't supposed to agree, you know?"
"My mother taught me not to lie," she says, smiling.
"Well, white lies aren't bad."
She sits beside you and holds your hand. Tears slowly escape her eyes as she looks at you.
"You are okay, right?" She says, sniffling.
You slowly wipe off her tears and put the palm of your hand on her cheek.
"I'm fine, Nemuri."
You slowly move towards her and place a kiss on her forehead.
You pat the empty side of your bed, "Want to join me?"
She slowly nods as she walks to the empty side of the bed and gets in. Her legs immediately wrap around your left leg as she places her head against your chest. Her left hand extends around your waist and hugs you.
"What are you, a koala?" you joke.
"What can I say? You are a comfy tree."
"Well, I am glad to be of service."
Soon, Nemuri goes to sleep. Soft snores can be heard from her as she rubs her head against your chest.
'The koala became a cat,' you thought to yourself.
Your right-hand goes to the top of her head, ruffling her hair.
"I love you so much, Nemuri Kayama. I always will. If I had to, I would gladly lay my life down so that you'd be safe. I know you're asleep and probably can't hear this, but you are the most important thing in my life - don't forget that," you tell her sleeping figure as you fall asleep.
#Illyaana | Requests#midnight x reader#bnha nemuri#mha nemuri#Illyaana | BNHA#Illyaana | Nemuri Kayama#Illyaana | Midnight#nemuri kayama#nemuri x reader#bnha#midnight#aizawa shouta#all might#Midnight#bnha x gender neutral reader#bnha x reader#bnha x you#bnha x y/n#mha x you#mha x gender neutral reader#mha x reader#mha x y/n#mha fluff#boku no hero academia#izuku#my hero acadamy#mha fanfiction#mha imagines
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Title: Your Pain Is Valid
Request: Hi! I love how you write about Snape❤️ I don't know if requests are open but I was wondering if you could write a fic where the reader has awful period cramps and faints in the bathroom where Severus finds her and he is very worried because the reader never told him how bad the pain was so he gives her lots of cuddles. If you don't feel like writing it, don't worry❤️ p.s. sorry if there are grammatical errors but English is not my native tongue❤️ - Nonny (Anon Ask)
A/N: Thank you lovely Nonny for this request! I rather enjoyed writing this as I’ve been so ensnared with R&R lately - this was quite natural for me to write as I myself suffer from horrendous period cramps and fainting is not uncommon. *sigh on that* A topic that really should be more openly discussed; periods and period cramps that is. So again, thank you for requesting! ❤️
~This fic is split in both Your POV and Third POV for Severus!~
Setting: Spinner’s End, Mid June
Pairing: Snape x Girlfriend!Reader
ABBR.:│(y/n) - Your Name│ (y/l/n) - Your Last Name │
Word Count: 2974
Warnings: Period Pain/Blood, Fainting, Fluff, Angst, Cuddling, Swear Words
Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3
~You~
You stumbled out of bed. Sweat soaked your skin and you shivered as another sharp pain shot through you, at its strongest in your belly only to radiate outward. It felt as if someone had taken a blunt knife and stabbed you repeatedly. You groaned as you hugged your aching stomach. Why now? He doesn’t-, fuck-! You hunched over and panted as the pain shot through you once more.
Blood ran down your leg. Menstrual blood. As you had risen it felt as if it just flowed from you, like a damn river. Along with the sticky sweat as well, you were a total mess. I can’t, can’t let him see me like this, you thought as you walked towards the bathroom on the other side of the hall; you used all your strength to stay upright and not make any sound as you could hear him downstairs.
You had been with Severus for nearly a year but you had always timed yours and his visits when you were not on your period as the pain was so intense and you feared he would see you as weak, or a nuisance, for your - well, illness to be frank. It was out of your control yet many seemed to be under the impression you could just ignore it, or deal with it. Honestly, the number of people who had no true understanding of periods were ridiculous.
You gritted your teeth as you tried to close the bathroom door as silently as possible. The pain stabbed your gut again and your knees nearly bent from the pain.
“Fuck-” you hissed through clenched teeth. You held on to the sink with one hand and splayed the other over your stomach with hard pressure. You tried to focus on your breathing, in through the nose, hold for three seconds, out through the mouth - over and over.
But it didn’t help. You bit your lip as tears slinked down your cheeks and dripped from your chin. You looked towards your left, your foggy view made it hard to see but your toiletry bag was there and you started to rummage through it for your painkillers. You had tried a multitude of pills, potions and brews. None had helped enough for you to function normally but the once you had now at least took the worst edge of the pain. Turned the blunt knife into a hammer that pounded rather than stabbed. It was more bearable.
You were shaking as you heard Severus call out your name. Not now, not now, go away- you moaned in a panic in your head.
“(Y/n), breakfast is ready,” Severus said with that rumbling voice of his. You knew he was still downstairs as his voice was ever so slightly raised.
“Comming!” you called out with as normal a voice as you could muster. A second later the pain stabbed you again and you dropped the bottle of pills as your hands shook violently.
They scattered all over the floor and you couldn’t see the tiny little pills that blended perfectly with the off-white tiles that made up the floor as your tears made your vision blurry. You took a shuddering breath and held back a moaning scream as the pain intensified. It felt as if you were breaking in two, were torn apart. You gripped the sink with both hands just to remain upright.
“Not now, not now-,” you muttered under your breath as you tried to control your breathing once more as the stabbing refused to ebb away. Your skin was now soaked with sweat, it mixed with the blood that had run down your legs in two long streaks. Your feet were wet with the red liquid and you tried not to think of what a mess you might have done of the bed. Some had surely leaked out before you rose. He’s going to see, I don’t want him to- you thought and your knuckles turned white as you gripped the sink harder.
I, can’t do this, you thought as you turned towards the door. You wanted to call for him to help you as the pain just kept rising. But you couldn’t find your voice through your clenched jaw and the throbbing that seemed to occupy every inch of your shivering body. The shirt you had borrowed from Severus was now as soaked as your skin and you feared you had stained the white material. I need, need help-
You let go of the sink and reached for the closed and locked bathroom door. But you never made it to the handle. Your vision blurred more, a black mist came in and limited your view as you got dizzy, so very dizzy. You heard the thud of your body against the harsh floor as you were already in such pain from your cramps the hits didn’t register despite the harsh thuds you somehow knew would leave ugly bruises. Then, you were gone.
~Severus~
He was pouring his coffee, black as the darkest night with a tinge of brown closest to the edge of the cup. The smell filled his hooked nose and he raised the cup to take the first sip. His movement halted mid-air as a loud thud was heard from upstairs. He froze. What on earth- but his thought was cut short as fear seared him.
“(Y/n),” he breathed out and the cup crashed against the floor, the dark liquid covered it but Severus was already halfway to the stairs by then.
He leapt up the stairs, his thoughts ran rampant at what had happened. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw bloody footprints and drops on the floor. From the bedroom where the door stood ajar to the bathroom where the door was closed. His heart pounded and he reached for the handle as he had instantly taken the last few steps needed to reach the door. It was locked and he tugged as he called your name, his voice laced with worry.
“Alohomora!” he shouted as he pointed his wand towards the lock and it clicked open. He pulled the door open and his heart skipped a beat as he saw you sprawled half-naked on the floor in a sweaty mess with bloody legs and feet.
“(Y/n)?!” he rumbled out as he threw himself down beside your unconscious body.
You were breathing and some of the fear eased, but the panic still held him. He reached out to wipe away a few tendrils of moist hair from your face.
“(Y/n)? (Y/n), wake up,” he said. His voice low and dark, deeply rumbling but it dripped with worry. But you did not stir. You just laid there. His mind was frantic, his pulls raced and he felt, for a moment, as if the world was swallowing him.
Severus pulled you into his embrace, he checked you all over for cuts as he searched for the source of the blood but he found none. Internal bleeding? She, she needs to go to a hospital. He thought in a panic as he scooped you up in his arms. You were heavy in your unconscious state and he held you tighter, not a care in the world regarding the sweat or the blood as it seeped into his clothes and made his hands slick. All he could focus on was getting you help as he feared the worst.
~You~
You felt weirdly elevated and cradled. You groaned as the stabbing in your stomach recommenced. You tensed and the swaying movement that you had been in stopped. The smell of sage, peppermint and husky perfection penetrated your sense of smell. You felt safe in an instant.
His chest vibrated as his deep rumble of a voice pronounced your name with worry. Your eyelids fluttered and a moment later you were looking up at him. Severus. Your beloved. You were in his arms. Cradled and held tightly.
“Sev-Severus?” you stuttered out and his dark eyes shined with worry as he looked down at you. Oh no, no, no, no-, your mind raced as you understood he had found you in the bathroom. Fear of what he would think filled you with dread.
But he looked more worried than anything. His harsh face ravaged by lines and streaks of the unpleasant emotion. His dark onyx eyes seemed to sway with concern.
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he stated and his voice really shook ever so slightly with the worry that was so evident in his eyes.
“Don’t,” you whispered, “there is nothing, nothing they can do.” You tensed again as another stabbing sensation crawled through you with that blunt knife as its clawing paws. You moaned in pain and Severus tensed.
“You need help,” he stated and his voice was so concerned you felt like an asshole for not warning him of your, predicament, once a month.
“Severus, don’t-, they can’t, can’t-” but you were unable to finish the sentence as you gripped his shirt and pressed your legs up and in towards your stomach to quell the pain that washed over you again. It was truly horrendous. And to know, to know it would happen every month was just as horrendous.
He held you tightly in the middle of the hallway on the upper floor.
“(Y/n), what, what is the matter?” he asked and guilt washed over you at his sad tone of voice.
“It’s, nothing, just-”
“You’re hurting, bleeding, do not say it is nothing.” You looked up at him with tear-filled eyes as you bit your lower lip. His worry for you made your heart flutter ever so slightly despite the pain.
“Period,” you said. His eyebrows raised ever so slightly and a blush crept over your cheeks.
“Period?” You nodded at his questioned word.
For a moment he was silent but then you heard how he blew out a breath and his tense arms seemed to relax ever so slightly while they still embraced you firmly.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered as you tried not to scream or cry.
“What in the world for?” You looked up at him and his brows were knitted together.
“You, love, have nothing to apologies for. You are a woman, periods are natural. I just, are they always-” You bit your lip and curled together again as another wave of pain shot through you and he went silent as he carried you back into the bathroom.
A crunching sound was heard as he stepped on some of the scattered pills and he stopped.
“Painkillers? Really?” You nodded.
“I’ve, tried everything,” you breathed out as you clung to him. Desperate for the comfort he provided. The stability, the warmth.
“Not everything,” he said and you felt - yes felt - the sneer on his face as your own face was pressed against his chest.
A few moments later you were placed gently in the tub that Severus had filled with warm water and some of the bath oils he had in the room. You hummed in the softening feel the water provided but you still had your legs tugged up and in towards you. The pain was still unbearable and you felt yourself sway as another wave crashed over you. You bit your lip and nearly snarled.
Severus placed his sturdy hand on your back and you smiled through the tears. His comfort was more than welcome. You heard him mutter something and in the next moment, he held a yellow vial in front of you - no label. You glanced up at him and he arched a brow. You took the vial and tipped all the content into your mouth before you swallowed. Your trust in him was unwavering and wholehearted.
It tasted like sweet orange juice with a tinge of honey. It was a quite pleasant taste. He took the empty vial and then his hands were on you again. He stroked soothing circles over your back with one and gently held you upright with the other. You swayed a little with his movements as a warmth started to spread within you. You felt a bit fuzzy actually. No, not again-! You didn’t want to pass out again, and not in front of Severus. You gripped the sides of the tub in a panic to keep yourself upright.
“Sch, it’s just the potion, just relax,” he whispered gently and his words instantly soothed you. You allowed the fuzzy feeling to take over and it felt, quite wonderful. The stabbing pain became a dull ache and you felt as if you were being lulled to sleep.
“Severus,” you whispered and you heard him move as his hands left you for a moment.
“Let’s get you cleaned and dried,” he said in the next and then you felt his gentle hands with rough skin wipe your legs down. The water turned a little red from your blood but he didn’t seem to mind. Even if you were thoroughly embarrassed. You couldn’t help it; it was just ingrained in you. Ingrained in society in general...
He had left you alone to insert a tampon but other than that he had been by your side constantly. He had dried you off, had done your hair, dressed you in clean pyjamas clothes that were way too big but so comfortable you felt as if you were wrapped in a cloud that smelled like Severus. As if you were bundled up in your own private heaven.
He had perched you on the couch with pillows, blankets and a warm bag of wheat over your stomach. The potion still made you feel fuzzy and kept the pain at bay. It was, without a doubt, the least amount of pain you had experienced during your period for as long as you could remember. You hummed ever so slightly and Severus came in with a plate of delicious-looking sandwiches and a cup that steam rose from. It was tea, it smelled of honey and something more acidic.
“Thank you,” you breathed out and he smiled ever so slightly at you. A Severus smile. The best kind of smile there was in the world. He looked as you ate one of the triangle-shaped sandwiches and sipped the tea before he sat down beside you. He took your legs over his own, gently, and scooted closer so that you could still keep your knees high. He fussed with the blanket and your heart swelled at his care for you.
“Why did you not tell me?” You looked up from the teacup that was nearly empty. He gazed into your eyes as his hand stroked your leg in a slow and gentle motion.
“I, it’s not, well, it’s not something I talk about. People tend to-”
“I, am not, people,” he growled out through nearly closed lips. You smiled softly at him as you placed your cup on the table.
“No, no you are not. I’m, sorry honey,” you said as a blush crept over your cheeks again while you gave his arm a small stroking pet to ease him.
“Don’t. Just, tell me of such things. I could have helped you,” he huffed and you allowed your hand to reach up towards his cheek.
“You are helping me.” He blushed ever so slightly at your touch and words. It made your heart flutter once again as the stoic man was so swayed by your affection.
You crawled over to hug him. But he just gently grabbed you and placed you on his lap as his arms encircled you under your knees and around your shoulders. You were sat snuggly in a V and it did wonders for the dull ache that still persisted.
“I love you,” you whispered and you hoped that he would still feel such feelings for you as well.
“And I love you,” he murmured as his nose nuzzled your temple as his lips kissed your cheek. You smiled and felt a relief flood you.
“I am sorry,” you said though.
“What ever for?”
“For-, well, my-”
“Illness? That’s preposterous. It would be as if you apologized for having an allergy or suffered from lycanthropy. That is not your fault and your pain is valid. Utter nonsense to say otherwise,” he muttered as he glared at the air before him and held you tighter.
You leaned into him as he gently rocked you while you felt wholeheartedly loved and cared for. As his soft yet firm embrace cradled you, as he made sure you were as comfortable as possible, that you had everything you needed and then some - you felt happy. Truly happy. He accepted, understood and validated something that had plagued you in so many ways for several years.
It was somewhat shocking, yet at the same time, it was so him that you felt silly for all the excuses you had made up not to meet with him during your time of the month. Felt silly for not asking him for help, for not trusting in his love for you completely to let him see you in such a state. But now he had and he still loved you without a doubt. Took care of you and made sure you were as content as possible.
I think I’m in heaven. The thought made you sigh and you sank deeper into his chest, his steady heartbeat paired with the potion lulled you into a deep slumber. You could escape the physical ache altogether for a while. Safely enveloped in his strong arms with a gentle smile over your lips as you felt him kiss your forehead even in your sleeping state. That was your love for each other. Endless and accepting. Understanding and caring. That he was only that man for you, well, it made it all the better in all honesty...
Masterlist page // Masterlist post // AO3
I hope you enjoyed this, well, a bit more messy fic ^^ I am still open for requests! I am currently working on chapter 8 of Ruled & Ravaged and another request - but feel free to send in your wishes and wants in my ASK box - Nonny or not! ^^
Tags: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @morphineisouthoney @setsuna-meiou31 @meteoritewolf69 @bionic-otp @elizabeth-baelish
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[Jan:2021]
#snapedom#snape fic#pro snape#snape love#snape x reader#x reader#fic#severus snape#severus#writing#my writing#deepperplexity#deepperplexity fic#i still think more ppl should talk openly about this stuff#I've suffered for years from period pain that basically incapacitated me#it's painfull and basically fucking sucks#thank you nonny for requesting this and helping with spreading awareness
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Marko(Lost Boys) X Frog!Reader Imagines
Gender Neutral Reader
Content Warnings: gun, near death, brief mention of weed
• You spent most of your life on the East Coast, but you had a lot of family out west, including your beloved Grandfather. So when he passed, you dropped everything to attend the funeral
• You didn’t even recognize Edgar and Alan when you showed up at the trailer with your bag; last time you saw them Ed was just learning his first words(“Bullshit”, thanks Uncle Frog), and Al couldn’t even walk yet. Now here they are, a couple of Angsty sullen teenagers
• “You guys used to be so cute, what happened?” “We grew up.” “Oh please, what are you, 12?”
• You decided to stay for a while, help out with the comic book store while your Uncle deals with the legal stuff about your grandfather’s death. Dying sure was a pain in the ass, you guessed
• All things considered, you liked the work. You were a huge comic fan, and the store was slow enough that you had plenty of time to spend working on your own art. You hoped maybe you’d have your own comic some day, if only you could stick to one idea...
• In fact, you were so focused on your art that you forgot to lock up after closing time; so you were more than a little bit started when someone tossed a comic on your desk
• You look up to see a curly-headed blond man, with one of the most beautiful faces you had ever seen, and you can’t help but blush, he smiles at this. “New in town? I think I’d remember seeing you.”
• You notice his friends snicker as they mill around the store. So he IS flirting with you...this does nothing to help your blushing
• You try to collect yourself, ringing up his comic book as you explain your situation; about your grandfather, and how you’re staying with your uncle for a while...how you accidentally kept the shop open way late
• He seems infinitely more interested once he hears that you’re an artist, and absolutely wants to see your work. In fact, he doesn’t even wait for you to respond. “Is that your sketchbook?” Is all the warning you have before he’s snatching it off of your desk and flipping through it
• His jaw all but drops as he appreciates your work. “This is so sick!” Suddenly he’s pushing the sketchbook back to you. “Can you draw me?”
• Normally, you hate that question as much as any other artist, but you’d been dying to draw him since you saw his face, so you absolutely take him up on that
• It doesn’t take you very long to sketch him, and the second you’re finished he snatches it out of your hands, staring at it like he hasn’t seen himself in years
• While he’s busy being in awe, you snatch the sketchbook back from him, much to his surprise, and you hold up a finger to tell him to wait while you scratch your phone number onto the page. You hope he can read your terrible writing
• You tear the page out of the sketchbook, handing it to him. “Here, my phone number...you could call it sometime...if you want to.”
• Your heart flutters when he smiles, and you think you might die when his fingers brush yours when he takes the page. “I want to.”
• His spikyheaded friend nods at him, signaling it’s time for them to leave. “Name’s Marko, I’ll call you!”
• After a couple of late night phone calls, you never leave the shop open late again; Marko never failing to pick you up just after the sun goes down. You tease him about never seeing him in the daylight, like he’s one of those vampires from your cousins’ favorite comic
• “I’ve never seen you in the daylight either.” “Fair enough.”
• Unfortunately, your cousins overhear this little talk just outside of the shop; and one very early morning you notice them sneaking out of the house...you follow of course, you are the adult after all
• Following at a distance, you watch them climb into an old cave...very clearly labeled “Stay Out”. You wonder if maybe they go down there to get stoned with their friends or something...they have friends right? You consider leaving them be...but decide it would be so much funnier to bust them
• Except it isn’t funny at all. By the time you get down there, you hear your cousins’ screams. You frantically follow the sound, and much to your surprise you find Marko, his face distorted monsterously, ready to tear Edgar’s throat out
• You hardly even notice his friends, making a daring slide to pick up the stake Ed had dropped, and grabbing onto Marko. You aren’t strong enough to pry his grip off of your cousin, but the shock of seeing you here causes him to let go anyway. Ed scrambles to Al’s side, terrified under the gaze of the other vampires
• You press the point of the stake to Marko’s chest, and he looks at you with the most devastated expression. “Touch my cousins and he fucking dies.”
• Contempt and fear plays across the faces of the other vampires, guys you thought had become your friends since you started dating Marko; they didn’t know if you could kill him, but they didn’t want to take that chance. David nods for them to part so your cousins can start climbing out of the cave
• Marko...Marko looks at you with his golden eyes full of sorrow and anguish. Seeing him now for the monster he is, you know that the only reason you’re still alive is because he doesn’t want to kill you. You have a stake pressed to his chest, but you both know he could tear your throat out before you ever got the chance to use it
• “(Y/N), please, I-”
• As soon as your cousins reach the safety of daylight, you toss the stake violently to the floor, glaring into Marko’s eyes. You don’t even spare him a final word before you turn and walk away
• Every night, the phone rings; your Uncle doesn’t even bother to tell you anymore, just hanging up the second he hears Marko’s voice. If he knew the truth about what happened that night he’d be terrified, but as it stands he just thinks you had a nasty breakup; and you’re grown...so it’s not his business
• You hate yourself for it, but you miss him...you want to blame it on his Vampiric Charm, but you know in your heart that he never had to manipulate your feelings...they were real
• One night, you just can’t stand lying awake staring at the ceiling anymore. At damn near 3am, you leave quietly so not to awaken your family, and take off for your grandpa’s old shooting range
• Perhaps it was unwise to take yourself to a secluded area so far from any civilization in the dead of night, but you don’t care anymore. You load your grandfather’s old shotgun, the one he taught you to hunt with, and fire at the target
• Eventually, you hear a lone dirtbike pull up the long road behind you; you don’t even turn to look at him. “It’s four AM Marko, what are you doing here?” You fire at the target in the distance
• He walks up behind you, watching you lazily reload. “I could ask you the same thing.”
• “S’my grandpa’s range. I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d get in some target practice.” *Ting* “You know that’s no good against Vampires, right?” “It’s not for vampires.”
• He can’t help but be frustrated with you; how could you just come out into the open like this? In the middle of the night? Were you stupid or suicidal?
• You don’t need to read minds to know what he’s thinking. He opens his mouth to speak and you cut him off. “If you wanted me dead, I never would have left that cave.”
• “So why didn’t you do it? You know what I am now, so why didn’t you drive that stake through my heart?” “Even if I could have stabbed you faster than you could have killed me, your brothers would have torn me to pieces.”
• “My brothers aren’t here now.”
• You finally turn to look at him, tears welling in your eyes at the sight of him. Your heart tenses at the sight of the sun threatening to rise on the horizon. “If you don’t leave now, I won’t even have to kill you.”
• “No (Y/N).” You can see the tears in his eyes as he shifts into his monstrous form. “No, if you really want me dead, you’re gonna see it.”
• You’re confused at first, until you see the smoke beginning to rise as the first rays of morning light threaten him. “Marko, what are you doing?”
• He lets out an agonized hiss as his skin begins to singe. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
• Tears well in your eyes as you run to him, throwing your jacket over him in an attempt to shield him from the sun. “Knock it off!” You practically drag him into the old gun shack
• He collapses to the floor once you get him inside, too weak to stand. “If I’m gonna die, I want it to be you.” He sounds so raspy and exhausted
• You shake your head, tossing an old blanket over him. “Well too bad. You’re not dying on me today.”
#Spotify#mypost#music tag#marko lost boys#the lost boys#the lost boys imagines#Marko Lost boys x reader#marko x reader#lost boys marko#lost boys Marko x reader
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maybe love || tobio kageyama x reader
summary: you’re sick and kageyama skips volleyball practise to take care of you but it makes him realise that..perhaps he loves you more than volleyball?
you don’t need to read part one for this to make sense but here’s a link anyway: nurse’s office || kageyama x reader
tw// sick! reader, fem reader
“God fucking dammit, (L/N).” Kageyama cursed under his breath, occasionally glancing down at the messaged displayed on his phone screen as he impulsively jogged passed the gates of the school once the bell rang to head to your house. He was well aware that he’d be skipping volleyball club - when there was a practise game against Nekoma right around the corner - but upon reading your text, his first thought was that he desperately needed to see you.
To be honest, he didn’t really care that he was missing volleyball practise, which was weird considering that - before he met you - he couldn’t think of a single person that he’d miss volleyball club for. Maybe like..his mum?
His light job that eventually picked up the pace into more of a sprint really put things into perspective for him; he was seriously whipped for you. But it was kinda refreshing though, since up until the day he first interacted with you, all he could think about was volleyball. But after y’all started going out, a part of you constantly lingered in his mind along with his interest in game shows which you also introduced him to.
As the cold winter air gracefully laced through his thick, ravenette locks, his mind ended up wandering back to the day he first met you - what he considered to be one of his fondest memories, not that he’d ever say that aloud though.
‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊
Kageyama groaned in annoyance at the sight of the milk carton which he paid for getting trapped between the shelf of the machine and the glass. On any other day, he would just leave it or maybe buy a second carton to push the first one out but today, he was absolutely parched with no money or water on his person.
He glanced at the clock which hung above the vending machine - 5:20PM - before scanning the pathways on either side of him and as he assumed, the school was absolutely deserted. So, he figured he was in the clear to start shaking the whole machine in hopes the beverage would fall out.
Then, a faint humming came into ear-shot which he chose to tune out until it started to get a bit too close for comfort and before he knew it, the source of the noise rounded the corner and began making it’s way towards him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed who it was and his heart skipped a beat; of course his crush was still in school and just so happened to walk right outside as soon as Kageyama wrapped his arms around the machine and was violently shaking it - he believed whole-heartedly that god hated him.
As soon as his eyes landed on the figure at the end of the hallways, he froze as his eyes also widened - not really sure what exactly to do in this situation but now that he had stopped shaking the machine it appeared as though he was hugging it, yet he was still too awkward to move.
You both stared at each other for a while in dead silence, waiting for the other one to do something but it never happened so you figured that you’d have to break the ice. So you strolled up to him with a friendly smile, “These damn machines.” You grumbled, running a hand through your freshly trimmed hair, “I’m guessing your drink got stuck?”
Kageyama blinked rapidly, pleasantly surprised that you didn’t mention anything about his seemingly intimate interaction with the vending machine so he took the chance to hastily back away from it. “Uh, yeah.” He replied lowly, rubbing the back of his neck.
In all honesty, Kageyama was ready to drop an excuse to leave and sprint home despite the fact his body was begging for fluid; he’d do anything to get away from his crush and the awkward atmosphere surrounding both of them.
However, the tension was lifted slightly as he heard a loud thud which jolted him out of his brainstorming of excuses. He perked up, his eyes instantly landing on the source of the noise - you aggressively kicking the side of the machine. Followed by the thumping of the milk carton as it dropped from it’s unfortunate position wedged behind the glass, to the compartment behind the flap where it belonged.
Upon noticing the relieved smile forming on his features and the seemingly genuine ‘thank you’ fall from his lips, you couldn’t help but beam too - proceeding to kneel down to grab his drink from the compartment before standing up a few steps in front of him, “You’re on the volleyball team, right? Uh, your name is on the tip of my tongue.” You spoke in attempt to make conversation with the boy, tapping your chin with your index finger as you thought. “Ummm- oh! Tsukishima?”
Kageyama’s heart dropped along with his short-lived smile, “Uh, no!” He barked defensively, furrowing his brows, “I sit next to you in English! I’m, uh, Tobio Kageyama.” He stammered on the last part slightly as his temporary burst of rage quickly died down as your harmonious laugh rung through his ears and you playfully slapped his shoulder, making him blush a lot more than he should.
“I know, I know; I was just messing with you, Kageyama. I had no idea you’d get so pressed.” You panted through chortles, wiping away an imaginary tear from your eye. Something about the way his adorable lil’ blueberry face tired to form a scowl was just so funny to you. “Your hilarious, man.”
Being called ‘man’ by a female was not something that has happened to him before, so of course it confused him as to why he found it so endearing. “Pressed? Is that a new English vocab word?” He asked without a second thought, as most words he didn’t understand were stuff that he was supposed to learn in class but it actually just went over his head.
That question turned your laughs into cackles as you hunched over, grasping your stomach for dear life, real tears of joy spilling from your eyes. At this point, Kageyama was beginning to fear that he might’ve broken you, so he asked concernedly, “Uh, (L/N), are you okay? Do you want me to call someone?”
It brought him great relief when you finally forced yourself to stand up straight to regain composure and your cackles faded away into heavy breathing, “I’m fine, babe. Don’t bother- I know that you probably don’t know the number for 911 anyway.” You joked, instinctively pulling out your pocket mirror to check if you messed up your lashes - and luckily, you didn’t.
Ignoring the fact that you were right about him not knowing how to contact 911, he chose to focus on how you called him ’babe’. Does that mean you like him? Or is that just friendly talk? Hinata has never called him ‘babe’ before.. so maybe it is a flirting thing? But if that was the case, why did you call him ‘man’ too? Maybe you just had weird choices of friendly nicknames? The only conclusion that Kageyama could come to while his brain was running on over-drive was that you seriously have him fucked up.
“Ah,” you hissed, catching a glimpse of the time on the clock behind you as you gazed into your mirror, “I should probably get going.” You shoved the mirror back into your jacket pocket, then pulled out a pen to scrawl something along the top of his milk carton which you had kept in your spare hand for this reason.
Once you finished, you handed him the carton while simultaneously putting your pen away and as soon as the held the drink firmly in his hands, you sped off down the hall; not only so you weren’t late but also because you were too shy to look Kageyama in the eyes as he read what you wrote on his milk. Perhaps it was a rather dorky way of making a move but the opportunity was there so you took it. “See you later!”
“Bye!” Kageyama called out, his eyes not averting from your figure until you rushed around a corner and disappeared from his sight.
He sighed of both relief and sadness as it was a shame that the encounter was so short but Kageyama was also glad that he managed to make it through the whole thing without saying anything too stupid.
He automatically tore the straw off of the side of the carton, peeling off the protective plastic and before he stabbed it through the top of his beverage, he took a moment to study what you had written on it and he couldn’t help but smile.
Of course, it was your number. And obviously he inputted it into his contacts the first chance he got.
‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊
Kageyama saw your house approaching on the horizon and he bit his lip at the realisation that he had no idea how he was going to get inside as usually you’d be aware that he’s coming over and open the door beforehand but you had already expressed your disapproval for him visiting you while you’re sick.
However, he managed to compromise with you during lunch so he was allowed to come see you after volleyball practise but once the bell rang, his instincts told him that he needed to be with you as soon as possible.
He trotted up to your front door, murmuring his prayers as he rattled the door handle - letting out a breath through his nose as the door opened, enabling Kageyama to slide inside, gently shut the door behind him, slip his shoes off and trek up to your room.
“Kageyama?” you whined, rubbing your eyes as you heard the sound of familiar paces ascending up the stairs. There was no need for you to even glance at the time displayed on your alarm clock for you to know that volleyball hadn’t finished yet, but for some reason dopeyama was still outside your bedroom door.
“Can I come in?” he asked, lightly chapping on your bedroom door a few times and then invited himself inside once he heard a groan from inside your room, taking it as a yes.
As he entered the room - immediately being greeted by the signature overwhelming scent of vanilla essence - he threw his bag down by the door before flopping down at the end of your bed, giving himself the chance to catch his breath.
“Kageyama,” you moaned, feeling him crush your feet as he laid back on them, “Why the fuck are you here?” Didn’t I tell you to go to practise first? Your temperature had gotten better since this morning but you were still too fatigued to deal with your boyfriend’s antics right now.
After hastily shifting his position at the end of your bed so he was no longer squashing your ankles, he shot you a sympathetic look accompanied by a gentle pat on the leg, “I don’t know. I just had the feeling that I needed to see you quickly - probably boyfriend intuition.”
You scoffed in attempt to hide the chuckle brimming at the back of your throat, “Ah, yes. Well, you and your ‘boyfriend intuition’ should probably go back to practise.”
However, your comment was just met by Kageyama’s blank stare.
As much as it pained you to think through your splitting headache, you couldn’t help but wonder why Kageyama would do something like that just to see you and what was this ‘boyfriend intuition’ he spoke of? (and where did he even learn the word ‘intuition’ - it seems a bit advanced for his vocabulary, to be honest.)
You weren’t alone in your confusion though, Kageyama was equally - if not more - puzzled as to why he felt so selfless today. It frustrated him to no end as to why he was unable to pinpoint an answer.
Plus, the more he gazed longingly - or rather, gawped - into your eyes, he felt a warm, foreign feeling spread throughout his chest; for a moment, he thought he was about to have a heart-attack but he quickly omitted that idea as the sensation didn’t hurt at all - in fact, he found it quite pleasant, hence he was unable to pry his eyes off you.
“Kags, what are you doing? You eventually questioned as you found that his intense gaze was preventing you from relaxing.
Upon hearing your voice interrupt his spiralling thoughts, he was able to finally blink and clear the tinge of red that was beginning to form in his eyes from holding them open for so long.
Kageyama simply sighed, completely disregarding your question as he blurted out the compliment that his mind has been urging him to say since he first walked into the room, “You’re so beautiful.” His apathetic tone didn’t assist in making it seem genuine but the fact he chose to use ‘beautiful’ rather than ‘cool’ or ‘pretty’ like he usually does, was quite impressive.
Without delay, you yanked the duvet up to hide your face as you muttered curses under your breath directed at Kageyama and his poorly-timed ‘jokes’. What you failed to realise was that Kageyama was being dead serious but your insecurities wouldn’t allow you to believe that he would sincerely compliment you while knowing that you weren’t wearing any make-up and you probably looked like a mess. Not that you’d know though as you hadn’t looked in a mirror since yesterday night - perhaps your bed-head was cute?
Your answer along with how you thought he was mocking you, quickly made Kageyama defensive of his statement. “Dumb-ass, it wasn’t a joke.” His aggressive tone making an expected comeback. He tugged on the blanket so it escaped your weak grip and he could see your face again, the cozy feeling returning to his chest as he momentarily held eye-contact with you.
You pouted now that your upper body was exposed to the chilly climate of your room due to Kageyama pulling your blanket away, “Did you come here just to annoy me?” You whined, leaning forward to snatch your duvet back so you could shield your torso from the nippy air. “And why do you keep staring at me with that stupid look on your face?” You snapped, aware that your accusatory behaviour could be mistaken as ungratefulness but in your defence, your pounding headache and general nausea wasn’t helping you be the kindest, most patient version of yourself at the moment.
Luckily, Kageyama paid no mind to your critical tone and instead focussed on wracking his mind for an answer to your question but of course, he had nothing.
He knew better than to keep hiding his feeling and issues from you, though. As he had been open to you about his problems in the past and nothing but good things came afterwards; you aided Kageyama in his dilemma so it’s not as if you had a bad track record with understand or listening.
Plus, when you and him first started dating, he had no idea how to do..anything, basically. So he went to Sugawara (and Tanaka, but that’s a different story) for advice and the rule Suga put the most emphasis on was to ‘always be honest with your partner and communicate’ and - by Kageyama logic - Sugawara had grey hair, just like that of old people, therefore he must be wise like old people too.
Anyway, all of these reasons - including the fact that Kageyama wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions around you - led to him doing the rather embarrassing act of attempting to explain his situation to you, baring in mind that Kageyama was far from silver tongued.
“I don’t know - I just felt like I had to come here to see you instead of going to practise because I hated the idea that you might be, like.. suffering, I guess.” he unravelled, selecting each word carefully to make sure he doesn’t say something either cringey or confusing. “And whenever I look at you I get a weird feeling in my chest and at first I thought I was having a heart-attack but I kinda ruled that out because I remembered when my sister told me that diary was good for the heart.”
You hummed understandingly, getting a little giggle out of Kageyama’s last comment. “Perhaps someone made a Voodoo doll of you and - coincidentally - sticks a peg through it’s heart every time you look at me.” You suggested jokingly but frowning at the look of realisation that struck Kageyama as you said that.
“Maybe. But it doesn’t hurt, though. It’s kinda a nice feeling.” He mused, casually draping his arm over your leg and lightly tapping your thigh with his index finger.
You sighed as you watched the ravenette shift his gaze onto the ceiling, deciding that now would probably be a good time to give him some reassurance as you could tell that he was genuinely troubled.
“Well, I really appreciate you coming over rather than going to volleyball practise, that’s really sweet of you.” However, your attempt at being nice was met by his silence as he continued to stare intently at the ceiling, so you figured you’d give it one more go.
“You’re the best boyfriend I could ask for; I love you, Tobio.” You cooed, frowning as you received nothing but taciturnity in response. However, you simply didn’t have the energy to pry at him right now so you huffed before turning over onto your side, expecting that to be your last interaction with your boyfriend for the day - which would allow you to at least get some rest.
But of course, you’d be mistaken if you thought he was going to let you go to sleep that easily. He shuffled around in the bed until he was hugging your legs as if he was a Koala clinging to a tree, viewing this as the best alternative to spooning as he didn’t want to catch..whatever you had.
His rested against his cheek against your mid-thigh comfortably but due to both his height and how far down he was on the bed, half of his body was hanging off the edge. He was completely fine with that though, so long as his top half was relaxed.
“I love you too, (Y/N).” He spoke, muffled by the fabric covering your thigh. “More than volleyball.” He felt the need to add, finally realising that he had grown a soft-spot for you that he was more than happy to accept.
That was more than enough to set your cheeks ablaze so you buried your face into your pillow to hide it; something about what he said set off fireworks in your mind. It was the addition of 3 words that truly touched your heart as you knew that you’d no longer have to sit in second place against a sport - which wasn’t competition that you’d often worry about but simply a thought that you harboured.
To hide how flustered you were, you outstretched your arm to teasingly ruffle Kageyama’s hair but after heinous act, you were simply met by an underwhelming grumble of disapproval. “Go to sleep, stupid.”
Ah yes, we love to see it, folks. Kageyama being the softest one moment and the biggest bitch the next. An Icon.
#kageyama x reader#kageyama#tobio x y/n#haikyuu tobio#tobio x reader#kegayama tobio#tobio fluff#kageyama fluff#kageyama x y/n#haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader#haikyū!!
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