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sleepyhutcherson · 3 months

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wish i wasn’t so tired

on your way back home an argument between you and mike gets heavy when the words “this isn’t love, is it?” slips from one of you.

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: argument, use of y/n, miscommunication, angst, reference to marriage, not a happy ending? boygenius lyrics being referenced </3

a/n: tired of writing fluff (jk i love fluff) but i come from a miserable fandom (before i entered the jhutch one) aaand im so used to writing heavy angst. anyway, i should be working on my request not this but :p

What a perfect scenery to go with the intense argument. the rain angrily hits against the window drowning out any sound with the harshness of it. Unfortunately, not enough to drown your voice nor Mike’s, the rain mimicking the aggression and anger of your voices.

“I don’t remember,” Mike repeats, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight enough his knuckles turned white. He was speeding, trying to get home.

“I just want to know what happened! You came home with your knuckles busted, blood everywhere and you’re suddenly unemployed, and you won’t even tell me what happened?!” You're facing him but his focus is on the road (as it should) and there’s this dull, emotionless expression on his face that makes you feel alone.

He doesn’t say anything and for a moment you think maybe he won’t say anything at all. He continues driving, his gaze fixated on the road while you stare at him feeling so stupid. You close your eyes, wishing you could disappear from this moment. Wishing you could just apologise to him, but you knew better, you had no reason to apologise to him. You were just concerned about him, you just wanted to know why his knuckles were bloody.

You blink when you realise Mike is pulling to the side of the road, putting the car in park.

“This isn’t love, is it?” Mike asks, meeting your eyes now. There’s a sadness to them that you’re familiar with, you see those sad brown eyes whenever he’s overwhelmed, stressed, tired of work, when his aunt calls, when abby ignores him after an argument but never towards you.

And those words. the question. The genuine curiosity to his tone when he asked it.

“W-What?” You stammer, hoping that maybe you misheard him. But you knew you didn’t.

“I mean, all we do is argue.” You sit up straight, turning away from Mike. You stare straight forward, you wish the road wasn’t so empty maybe you could distract yourself by looking for different licences plates.

You swallow, your throat dry suddenly. “Then what is it?” If it’s not love then what it is?

None of you have a response which only makes it worse. You loved mike, you really did, you never doubted that. There was a moment a few months ago where the two of you referenced getting married soon, Mike giddy about proposing, and you were over the moon about the idea.

And now?

Mike loves you, he’s never felt so in love with someone until he met you, never felt more loved by anyone else but you. But recently, his job has been killing him and he’s only worked at it for three days. his sleeping schedule is fucked, he isn’t ever really sleeping like most people do, not in the way that one falls asleep to get rest but in the way that he’s going back to the same dream every night looking for something—or, someone, in his case. His aunt is trying to take custody of Abby and he can’t let that happen but God he’s so fucking scared.

But he won’t say any of this to you. Not about how stressed he’s been, how tired, how scared and sad. Fuck’s sake you don’t even know that he could lose custody of Abby.

“Maybe it isn’t,” You say, not daring to turn to look at Mike. “But can…can I at least pretend that you love me?” Your voice is small, ready to break.

Mike’s brows furrow, he can hear the hurt in your voice. He hates hurting you. He can never just shut the fuck up can he? He didn’t mean to say what he did, he really didn’t. “Y/n, I… I do love you, so, so much.” Mike reaches for you, cupping your face, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes are watery, full of tears that are ready to spill.

“You do love me?” You ask, looking up, your eyes locked with Mike’s. He frowns at your words.

“I’ll always love you. I hate hurting you. I’m so sorry.” He says through a clenched jaw, his words a little sharp layered with a desperation to get you to believe him. He pulls you in, peppering kisses on your face. it’s not enough, he thinks, you deserve so much more than this—than him.

“Then why do you?” You whisper, bringing Mike to halt. He pulls from you, staring at you with the most hurt expression you think you’ve ever seen. “I just…just want to know you—to help you, but you’re always pushing me away.”

He looks down at his bruised knuckles with shame, falling quiet suddenly. You know about his brother, about the entire incident, and about his parents but he never told you just how much it all affected him. how it still affects him.

You place your hand over his, gently rubbing over the healing bruise. They looked nasty even after days, too vicious for Mike. He loves how you touch him, he doesn’t care that his knuckles sting at the touch because he longs for your touch, desperate for it. He becomes more needy for it while you two are arguing, he wishes he could just pull you in while you were biting at each other, wanting nothing more but to be held by you. He would allow you to continue to bite, he wouldn’t mind if you continued to sink your teeth into him; he would take the pain, endure it even…if you just held him.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to say, “I wish I wasn’t so tired...” he exhales, trying to keep his voice steady. “But I’m tired.” It comes out weaker than he hoped, his words falling and breaking.

“oh, Mike,” you sigh, reaching up and now it’s your turn: you cup his face, your other hand reaching up to run it through his curls. “Talk to me. you know that’s what i’m here for.” You keep your tone gentle, stroking his cheek softly with your thumb.

Mike knows this. he knows that if he could talk to anyone that it would definitely be you. He just can’t. he doesn’t understand it either, doesn’t know why he can’t just open up.

He doesn’t want to talk, not really. He doesn’t want you to think he’s broken. he doesn’t want you to know how much of a mess he is, how he thinks his life is slowly falling apart right now. How he might lose custody of his little sister. How he’s looking for his brother in his dreams that are turning into nightmares. How he thinks he may be losing you, too.

“Can we just go home?” He croaks, his eyes welling up with tears. He doesn’t want to cry. He doesn’t want you to see him cry either.

You frown. You just wanted to be there for him, you wish he would let you help him, if that’s too much for him then you’ll sit there and listen. You just wanted to know what was hurting him, who hurt him. God, you just wish you could read his mind.

You frown when he pulls away from you starting up the car. You just wanted to help. You wanted to take whatever struggles he had, most of all you wanted to know what he was struggling with. What was bothering him? If only he talked to you. But clearly he wasn’t going to open up anytime soon.

You force an “okay,” accepting your loss.

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt comfort #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt fluff #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson smut #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie

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dreamauri · 9 months

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‧˚⊹ 𝗱𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 ଓ :: 𝗠𝗩𝟭 ‧₊˚⤾

you are reading :: part eleven !!

╭╯ pairing . . . max verstappen x fem! driver! reader ) ┊ summary . . . after the rain there will always be a rainbow, waiting just for you ) ┊ genre . . . fluff / sad ) ╰╮ warning . . . google translated german )

( fic masterlist | general masterlist ) ( requests ) ( taglist )

early November 2006 — Stuttgart Germany

"Ich bin verängstigt." [im scared] It was easy for your opponents to see the glint of fear in your eyes when you passed, something that would give them an advantage in the next 15 minutes. It was raining heavily with 75% chance of lighting. You walked under the umbrella through to where your kart was waiting for you, holding hands with your dad.

Leon crouched in front of you, putting both his warm hands on your colder cheeks. "Es gibt nichts, wovor du Angst haben musst, mein Herz." [there's nothing to be scared of, my heart] He pulled you in a gentle hug which you returned immediately. Gripping the material of his shirt, you did your best to even your breath to match your father's while he rubbed your back in a comforting manner. "Deine Mutter ist hier bei dir. Erinnere dich daran, was sie gesagt hat. "[your mother is here with you. remember what she said]

You hummed nodding, pulling away from the hug but still sticking close to your father. "Ich vertraue dir, meine Sonnenblume. Ich habe keinen Zweifel daran, dass Sie Ihr volles Potenzial entfalten werden." [i have faith in you, my sunflower. i have no doubt that you will preform to your full potential]

"Und selbst wenn du es nicht tust, ist es mir egal, solange du sicher zu mir zurückkehrst." [and even if you don't, I don't care as long as you return to me safe] He lifted you gently from your waist, setting you in your kart, helping you with your helmet and straps.

"Komm zu mir zurück." [come back to me] He put your hand on his heart, using his other hand to pull your helmet to press against his head gently. "Versprich mir, dass du in Sicherheit bleibst." [promise me you'll stay safe] "Ich verspreche." [i promise]

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I am where the rain follows." You mumbled to yourself. There was barely a view to look at from the window of your driver's room, yet the FiA still enforced the race.

'You still remember that?' Looking back in the mirror, other you was laying on the couch reading through diary of a wimpy kid. "Well, yeah." You fiddled with your fingers nervously.

Driving in the rain or snow was never a problem for you. Never ever. But why were you so nervous now? Walking beside your engineer as coffin nails played in your ear, you looked up at the cloud nervously. People roaming around can smell the fear off of your skin, like hungry sharks waiting to see your downfall.

It wasn't helping. Your heart beat and breathing were picking up as the harsh sound from the clouds penetrated past your headphones with each strike. You didn't like that sound. The movements you were inducing to the rubics cube in your hand increasing in speed with each step and each beat of thunder.

You found your self whimpering, heaving, pulling against your performance coach who tried to carry and put you in the car like a 5 year old ( since you tried to argue your way out ). You didn't want to. And you looked absolutely ridiculous.

Commentator, celebrities, and other drivers alike stopped to watch your struggle to escape and fail miserably.

"It's lights out and away we go."

1 :: a panic attack. You were having a panic attack. Holding P2 against your older brother and attacking Max for P1.

The sky was only dripping despite the occasional roar that made you flinch and jump in your seat. Your lungs were heavy, too heavy to the point you had to remind your self to breath.

26 :: "The rain is picking up, we are going to box for intermediates. inters. We're boxing for inters." "NO NO. SOFTS SOFTS SOFTS SOFTS. BOXING FOR SOFTS. BOXING FOR SOF-"

The whole grid thought you were crazy ( you were, there's no denying that ) as they listened to the speakers beep and your voice plead for the insane request.

"Softs? Y/N it is raining heavily. We are boxing for inters-" "WE ARE BOXING FOR SOFT-" Meike ( a few cars behind you ), who was following along with the conversation, felt himself flinch hearing your scream over the lightning strikes. Your sobs followed soon after and the radio was cut off ( to salvage the bits of reputation you had left ).

42 :: you couldn't stop crying. Like a seven year old that was hiding under her bed, scared from the sky's noise. Your teem wheeled you into the garage for red flag while you leaned your head in your hands, trying to shut yourself up. You did end up on softs, and in your opinion, it was the best decision you took yet.

You weren't sliding out gliding, you were using the rain to your advantage. There was practically no friction and you were flying past all the other cars, minus Killian and Meike, who like the crazy assholes were ( half-struggling ) on slicks because risking your life was genetical.

"You want tooo . . . hop out maybe? It's good weather for hot chocolate" "—No." You sniffled through the radio, feeling your heart rate pick up and body flinch from the increasing amount of lighting strikes. "Hey, Y/N—" "I got it." "Excuse— Hey!—" Your PR, who had come in attempt to comfort you tried to hold her ground against your father, who was pushing her away. Everyone in the garage stopped to watch the five-time world champion, totally out of habitat. Maybe they could sue and money off of him?

"Sir—" "Can I not get a moment with my daughter?" He was too scary for her to deal with. She had to stand a few feet away, watching in case she had to step in and kick him out ( it would be a dream come true for most people, to have that power over leon kraus, cause who wouldn't want to kick him out? ).

Max and Killian, who were jogging over from the same direction, froze in shock at the edge of your garage ( joined by Meike who was just gave a jealous frown ) upon seeing you sobbing form in your father's arms, who pat your back gently and took your helmet off. "I think he might have been reserving the soft dad energy for his sunflower." "He calls her sunflower?" Max looked between you and Killian confused.

"I didn't even know he was here." Meike gave a shrug to Max before making a beeline to join his twin and father. "I thought they weren't on good terms." Max questioned, leaning on one legs and raising his eyebrows surprised, watching you pull your twin ( more like tug because you grabbed him full force ) on the floor with you to join the hug.

"Well, that's a family meeting." Killian nodded, patting Max's shoulder firmly, looking him deep in his eyes. "We are still going to talk about Monaco. You're a dead man, Verstappen." He ( not ) joked as he walked to join the hug where he was also forcibly pulled in by you.

Max stood awkwardly on the side, waiting for his turn to hug you ( which sadly like for two seconds before the restart ).

68 :: "Is Meike okay?" You asked through sniffles as you passed your brother glided out on a corner. "He's still in, 5 seconds behind." "Ok, ok." You nodded, trying to even your breath. "You are currently P3, 9.5 seconds behind Killian. There are two more laps left, you have pace. Please try to—" "IM P3?" Your engineer flinched at the loud noise, watching you with a deep sigh as you passed in front of him, overtaking the Mercedes.

final lap :: "YAAAA!" You were still crying ( slightly, just the tears and sniffles ) as you drove to finish line, wheel to wheel with your older brother. And although you remained in P3 after a mistake around the hair pin, you were on the podium, in an Alpha Tauri mind you.

"What a drive." You heard over the speakers as you jumped out of your car. Pulling your balaclava, tears continued to stream down your eyes, happy one this time as you walked to your father, who was quietly waiting for you among your crew.

"Warum weinst du? Es ist keine Zeit zum Weinen." [why are you crying? there's no time to cry] He lightly scolded, wiping your tears with a towel ( that he hasn't been keeping warm and dry in the rain for you ). "Gehen. Bevor Sie eine Erkältung bekommen." [go. before you get a cold] He shooed, droping the towel on your wet hair.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"If I had to chose, I'd go with turn 10— Max!" Your eyes visibly brightened as you saw the blond come up from behind you. "I was looking for you." He returned your smile as you turned to face him. "Sorry," He apologized to the interviewer with a small smile as he pulled you in a hug.

Your heads went both directions and you were quick to pull away with a laugh before things got recorded on camera. "Oops—" You chuckled, laying your head on his other, shoulder, wrapping your arms around him. "We almost kissed each other." His voice was faint but his eyes were bright and it was clear he felt joy with you in his arms, his body flush against yours. "That was very close," He patted you back chuckling. "But there's nothing wrong with that."

"Max!" You pulled away, smacking his chest embarrassed. "You're dead!" You both turned to see Meike hopping over the fence. "Sorry." Max waved at the interviewer before throwing you over his shoulder and making an escape.

The other drivers couldn't help but stop and watch as Yuki, Meike and Killian chased Max in circles with you laughing and dangling from his shoulder. You looked . . . happier. Brighter was the word. Sure you were crying a few hours ago but it was a different type of crying. Some drivers who raced against you before 2023 could recognize you. It was nice to finally meet you, Y/N. Properly meet you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"What'd you get?" You peaked over his shoulder, looking at the box in his hands. "I'm not sharing." Max pulled the box out of your reach when you tried to pull a fry out of the shawarma box. "What did you get?" He turned the question around and showed him the beef carpaccio you somehow salvadged.

The two of you held intense eye contact before ultimately deciding to share. You leaned your head on his shoulder, watching the lights from the water fall change colours. Max had rented out a car and drove with you to Niagara falls ( again ). It was different this time, the way he held your hands or the way you two sang songs together while you sat on the hood.

You liked this. You felt . . . very comfortable with Max. Never in your life had you thought the young boy you shared all your podiums with would be the one you sneaked kisses to before retreating to your hotel room to shower.

Only to meet up with him again in secret and drive to another province in the middle of the night to watch the waterfall while sharing food. The thought or idea of you sneaking back into the hotel with max, dragging him down the hall as you tried to supress your giggles. Fumbling for the correct key card and jumping in his room were he littered your face and skin with kisses and love bites.

You loved Max, didn't you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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undercoverpena · 3 years

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Stood Up + Salads

Diego Hargreeves x Fem!Reader Words: 1.5k AN: Set with a S1 Diego but not S1 or S2 storyline. For a friend, you know who you are.

He didn’t need to look up when the door goes, he knows it’s you. Because when it rains, it pours.

Diego wonders if he should be more upset about his father, rather than being upset he’s had to see the others. Only for him to take his frustration out on you, consciously or not.

The fact you allow the door to meet the frame with such a loud thud is enough of a signal to him that you’re pissed.

Diego takes a second, thinking of his next steps as he swipes his tongue over his teeth, staring at the punching bag, as if it’s going to provide any answers on what he should do. How he could get out of this. Because if he plays this wrong, which he will, it’s going to spiral. Becoming so much worse than it already is.

A whole lot fucking worse.

And it’s already bad.

Hitting the bag once, twice and then thrice, he pays attention to your footsteps nearing. Not turning, not needing to see if your arms are folded, lips pursed and giving him one of you signature dead expressions. He knows you will be, because Diego fucking knows you and you know him.

And he hates it.

He despises that you know about his tick. About his family. About his upbringing, talent and everything else in between. He hates that you suggested calling off the meal before he did, and he hates himself for agreeing to go even if he knew he wouldn’t attend.

Because he’s decided he hates being happy.

He likes being miserable, likes fighting petty crime without anyone to come home to.

“Asshole.”

Rolling his head, he casts his eyes over you. Finding you exactly as he’s imagined. The only—slight—difference is the look in your eyes.

Sadness. A look which doesn’t suit you. One which stands out to him, because he’s seen it so rarely.

It swirls in your eyes, mixing with your usual shade, darkening them as they pin him to his spot. Or try to.

Letting his hands fall to his sides, he lets out a sigh before he can help himself. And the glare you send him is enough to force him to turn to face you.

When it comes to you, he isn’t sure if he hates how close you are to him physically or metaphorically; not sure if he dislikes it more that he wants to kiss you or let you love him.

“Hello to you too.”

Your lips twitch into a smirk. “You don’t deserve a hello.”

“Touché.”

“Surprised you know that word.”

“Under all this, I’m clever y’know?”

“Are you?” you snap, and you roll your lips together.

Those painted plump lips that’s kissed every inch of him. That he’s woke up dreaming about and gone to sleep pressed against.

“You’re angry—“

“Oh, I’m past angry, Hargreeves,” you says, tapping your foot on the gym floor. “I was angry when I was on my second glass, wondering where you were. I was fuming when I left, embarrassed and ready to hunt you down. Now, now I’m almost murderous.”

He hasn’t been called his surname in sometime. Hasn’t found himself in hot waters, with you at least, in sometime. Even angry, he feels your eyes rake down his frame, following a bead of sweat which falls from his neck down his chest and stomach.

Pulling the gloves undone with his teeth, snaps your eyes back up. And he finds himself smirking at you and his own foolishness simultaneously.

Because deep down he’s known this day would come, where you—like most—tired of him. Finding yourself irritated with his ways, of his selfishness and his impulsiveness.

“Let me have it then.”

He throws the gloves to the floor, shifting his weight as he notices the slight narrowing of your eyes. The way your lips twitch, whether a smirk or a smile, he can’t be sure. Usually, there’s less talking when you’re like this; usually you’re already pinned under him or against something. Now, you don’t even look at him like you’d welcome that.

Diego hates you for that too.

Despises that you have gotten under his skin, throwing him off his game. He’s dated. Well, since Patch they’ve not been constant. Real or permanent.

But you, you got to him. He still doesn’t even know how.

You don’t bend as easily, don’t surrender as you should. You fight him, sometimes tooth and fucking nail, and fuck, he doesn’t hate that about you. He loves that. He loves it when you steal the wind from his sail; when you cut him down. You don’t pander to him, you call him out, and he needs that even if he can’t admit it.

He even doesn’t mind that you sooth the insecurity, recognising when enough is enough. Halting anything before it goes too far, leaves too many wounds. You make him want to try to be a little better, even if he fails most days.

“No.”

“No?”

You snort. “No. Because if I rip you a new one, you’ll find some way to say sorry. And, then you’ll kiss me, and I’ll melt, and then you will forget that you’re an asshole.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

Your jaw tenses, almost impossibly so. “For someone in your position, you have a lot of snark.”

“Be careful, you may hurt my feelings.”

Nodding, your lips twist before straightening to an unreadable expression again. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m done.”

His muscles relax.

And his heart stops.

Yet Diego is somehow, not as surprised as he should have been.

Even if he looks at you, staring at your eyes and hoping to see a tease, a jest. He looks hoping you will change your mind, that he hasn’t successfully pushed another person away.

“Took you long en—“

“Im done talking,” you continue, cutting him off. Taking closer steps, slow ones, full of purpose as you dig your eyes into him. “I’m not gonna ask you to do right by me, I’m not gonna ask for an explanation why you decided to stand me up tonight. Hey, you don’t even have to talk to me.”

His forehead creases, flicking his eyes from your eyes to your mouth.

“Because I know why. You want me without the commitment, without the expectations of being a good person. You want a hole to fuck, so here I am, Hargreeves. You’ve got one.”

Fuck.

He stifles a sigh, especially as your finger press into his chest, nail digging down into the skin as you roll your lips and then he has to focus on not groaning. Especially when you bat your eyes lashes and smirk so condescendingly he wonders if you’ve been sent to test him.

“You want to pretend you don’t crave normal, that you don’t deserve it,” you continue, looking up at him, “I’ll play pretend. Hey, I’ll become the best damn actor in your movie you’ll ever know. But, I’m done talking.”

You place your other hand on his, moving his to your hip as you smirk.

“So, lights camera action, baby. Where do you wanna fuck me first?”

He feels your lips ghost over his. His hand clenching around your hip. Everything inside of him telling to just go with it, to not talk, to not burst open in front of you.

To kiss you.

To throw you down on the mats and not talk for hours.

“I-I’m s-sorry.”

“No. No you’re not,” you says, full of sadness, your expression not changing to match your tone. “If you were, you’d have come to dinner. You’d have stabbed your fork into the salad before I’d have told you I want street food.”

You didn’t move, and neither does he. Your hand spreading over his chest, his hand still on your hip.

“You don’t let yourself enjoy anything, because what? Your dad was an asshole and your brother went to the moon?” You ask, head tilted. “Diego, I don’t give a shit if you’re number two, you’re number one for me. But you have to try. You have to try at least ten percent otherwise it’s just me, forcing you to be with me.”

He never feels forced. Not with you.

You’re sometimes the only thing which is good. Which isn’t fucked, tainted or ruined. You’re good, if not a bit too sweary and a bit too good at drinking. But, you’re… nice, and unwilling to let him settle.

“You’re m-my number o-one too.”

“Cool.”

“I mean i-it.”

“Nice.”

“Baby, c'mon?”

You sigh. “What, Diego?”

Diego. He’s Diego again.

He doesn’t smile, even if he wants too.

He doesn’t kiss you, even if he’s fighting every part of himself.

He just stares, using his other hand to cup your cheek. “I am sorry.”

“Salad at a fancy place too good for you?”

He smirked. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Good. Because it’s too fancy for me too.”

“So why we’re we even fucking going, baby?”

“Because,” you say, defiance in your tone, “it’s what normal people do. They don’t meet over a bad game of darts and several beers, and fuck on a boxing ring. They don’t fight a literal mugger with trained assassin-level knife skills a month after beginning to sleep together.”

Your shoulders sink, your expression softening. “They date, at restaurants who charge too much and hold hands across parks. And for a second, one tiny fucking moment, I wanted that for you. I wanted normal, meet-cute type romance before we grabbed whatever was in a cart and we fucked on my new sideboard.”

His thumb brushed over your cheek. “I’d have liked that.”

“You’d have loved that. But—“

“I’m sorry,” he says again, softer, more meaningful, “I’m s-s-sorry. I really am.”

“I’m still mad.”

“That’s okay.”

“You owe me a fancy salad.”

Smirking, he nods. “Baby, I’ll give you a salad bar if you want it.”

“I don’t like salad.”

“No?”

“No.”

Smirking, he cups your cheek with more purpose. “What do you want then, baby?”

He watches your eyes darken. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed. You have a lot of making up to do.”

#diego hargreeves x y/n #diego hargreeves x you #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #diego #diego tua #tua ff #tua fanfic #tua diego #diego x reader #diego x you #tua diego x reader #tua diego fanfic

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insinirate · 2 years

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WHO NEEDS SLEEP so like anyway yeah hes been caught by pico and theres a little struggle but pcnj's always been weak to pico so when pico is like "hey cool it, just come with me for a sec", pcnj is like "finally!! he'll end my miserable existence" and pico drags him... to a nice looking place, and pcnj gets Nervous because hey, this looks like a residential area, not a secondary location to kill mofos, and pico opens the door to a couple of voices who happily greet him, and pcnj is just like "oh no" and sorta blanks out and hides behind pico because this is quickly going to become Awkward 2.0 as pico explains "hey this homeless guy is my ex, and i wanted to return the favor to him since he took care of me when i was homeless for a while, so you guys wont be upset if he uses the shower and eats a bit right?" and beef and geef are on HIGH ALERT because this strange homeless man is pico's ex and WHAT IF HE TRIES TO GET PICO BACK so they're not the nicest to him, but pcnj just takes it because he wants to Get Out as soon as he can. so at pico's behest, he quickly cleans himself and tries to leave, but pico is like "hey man have a meal first" and pcnj is like "goddammit" because his dumb feelings for pico never left, and pico himself may or may not have lingering feelings as well, so its awkwardly tense in a way exes tend to be, but pico is still being nice, slips on a smile here and there, an encouraging hand squeeze every once in a while, and pcnj is mad blushing. he cant help it!! hes still stupid in love with pico, but then he sees pico kiss beef and geef, and he looks so happy with them, so content and relaxed and melty with them, and pcnj's little heart shatters some more. beef tries to rub it in pcnj's face that PICO chose them and not him, but geef is a little more hesitant. pcnj's made no moves towards pico, and instead looks more like he wants to get away from it all. he looks like a sad kitten in the rain, and she feels a little bad for him because its obvious that he still LIKES pico, but hes doing nothing about it. pico tells bf to cool it, but pcnj uses bf as an excuse to go "nono hes right, i mean, im pretty much the whole reason you got exposed right?" and the trio go silent as the words sink in, and pico stands up like "pcnj cmon that's not what happened-" but pcnj wont hear it, hes spent an entire year or so wallowing in guilt and now that's all he'll ever know, so he tells pico that hes happy that pico found people who love him, and that he hopes theyll treat and protect him a lot better than pcnj could ever do, and absconds from their place as fast as his twinky legs can carry him before pico can lunge for him again. pico's got confusing feelings, bf is a little conflicted (but not by much), and gf feels a little bad for pcnj. pcnj himself is resigned to just stay brokenhearted and homeless until he fades away somewhere where no one can find him, tired of the limelight and hoping no one ever recognizes him again

...unless? i have a bandaid to slap onto this whole situation. of course, pcnj STILL wont end up with pico, he lost boyfriend rights forever, BUT he can at least have a shitty apartment again if you're interested in this shitty bandaid i have for sale

im running outta time i'll just pitch this bandaid and you decide to keep it or not. geef goes outta her way to find pcnj because she feels bad and shes a sweet gal, she can see that pcnj means... SOMETHING to pico, she likes her chew toy to be happy, so since pcnj is homeless, the least she can do is... offer him a job? but in what? the best thing she can come up with is "social media rep for her parents" because the imps are doing a poor job managing her parents' social medias, and humans are good at social media right? right! so she finds pcnj, drags him against his will to see her father, pitches her offer to her daddykins ("please daddy please please please hire him 🥺") and dd is leery of this greasy man and hes like "how experienced are you" and pcnj's like "well im a disgraced, cancelled twitch streamer who got doxxed by nosy fans who wouldn't stay out of my business, but before that i managed my social media well enough that i had millions of fans i interacted with often enough that people knew of me in the gaming sphere" and dd is like "well that's more than the imps so i'll give you a week to try the gig out" and pcnj, who expected to be turned down, goes "you're kidding" and gf is happy for him!! now pico's other ex has a job that she helped with!! pico will be so proud of her :) but pcnj is like "no dont tell him, i might not even keep this job if i do bad" and shes like "then dont do bad? but okay :(" and pcnj ends up wandering back to the dearests everyday for a week to show off his skills, and hes surprisingly good at maintaining and managing both dd AND mm's social med platforms, so he keeps the job and gets his first paycheck which makes gf proud :) but then he accidentally runs into pico AGAIN for Awkward Exes Reunion 3.0 at the dearests, pcnj leaving a meeting with dd and pico about to enter a meeting with dd, and they both kinda stare bewildered to even SEE one another in this godforsaken mansion, and pico grabs him before pcnj can scramble away again, and tells him to just. wait, okay? they need to have a real talk for once. and pcnj, a sucker for pico always, agrees and waits for him to finish his meeting with dd. they end up having a little talk, pico telling pcnj to stop blaming himself for something he couldnt control and pcnj reminding pico that he broke up with pcnj for a reason, and pcnj himself is already disappointed and ashamed that he couldnt do the bare minimum, which was keep pico's identity safe. pico admits he did run away because he thought it was his best bet, but now thanks to gf, dd played a hand in keeping pico's identity again through demon shenanigans, so hes safe now and it's okay and could pcnj please stop avoiding him. pcnj goes "no 💜" and says that it's better that they dont see each other often, especially since pico is dating to other people, one pcnj is okay with and the other pcnj wishes would shut the hell up. pico relents but asks if they can still be friends, and pcnj agrees reluctantly before getting surprised hugged by pico, and it really hits them then just how much they missed the other

they part ways and pcnj determines to stay distant from pico regardless, and settles into renting a shitty, small apartment and works with a decent laptop that can play maybe a game or two. he never returns to streaming and keeps his identity more or less on the down low so people dont randomly recognize him. pcnj ends up doing the "i'll love you from afar and admire your smiles in secret" thing with pico, keeping his distance so that pico will never notice him, but catching enough passing glimpses that he can still love him from a mile away

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seancekitsch · 3 years

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Out of the Rain: a Marko x Reader fic

Warnings: bloodplay goes without saying bc vamp, rough sex, dirty talk, semi public sex, telepathy?? me projecting my music taste on this fic again. drug use, fast and loose use of vampire lore bc when i write i am god and u cannot stop me. also can u tell i have like…. v clear descriptions of the setting like i used to work at the place im describing but its not in california

No one had come in for hours. What's the point of staying open? You dim some of the lights in the store, which is one of three head shops in Santa Carla, but the only one open late. You're not really sure why this is the only store that stays open, why everyone else if worried about the three am walk back to their car on a weekend night. You've never seen anything of suspicion, just sometimes that biker gang watches people shuffle out. That was almost comforting, though. People didn't like those guys, so no one would make you use your switchblade if they were around.

The bright while fluorescent lights of your typical daytime ambiance faded away, and now green light bathes you in the “mood” lighting your boss thought was a good idea. The green lighting reflects off of the glass counters, shining it back at the ceiling and making everything that much more green. It fits, you think with the overall vibe of the store. The stale scent of weed, gently and miserably covered up by some nag champa incense, always burning in at least four different spots within the store. You'd long since gotten used to the smoke in your eyes. The music does everything to add to the ambiance. You always have full control of the music in the shop, usually because no one else is willing to take the night shift in Santa Carla. In fact, most of the boardwalk shops had a revolving door of night shift workers. You never got why, something clearly spooks them that does not spook you. Whether that makes you brave or stupid, you dont know. Jefferson Airplane’s Surrealistic Pillow pumps through the speakers in the store. But I suppose no one knows, you're my plastic fantastic lover.

The rain batters the boardwalk outside, a roar much different than the typical hustle and bustle of drunk teens, of the cliques and crews that come in and out; the few that sit and snicker in the doorway, never entering. Some too afraid to be associated with the implication of being spotted in the shop. We sell jewelry and vinyl too, you always say, when they balk at the idea of being in the same room as a bong or incense.

But then there's the other group that stands and idles in the threshold, also not entering. It's that biker gang. Four guys, a girl, a kid. Maybe he’s the brat of the girl and the one who takes himself too seriously, but maybe not. She looks too young for that. They'd been hovering around quite a bit lately, always after dark. You’d spoken to them, at least the ones that are talkative. The hair metal wannabe and the cute short one. Paul and Marko. You knew the dark haired one was Dwayne, but all he ever offered you was a curt nod and a tight lipped smile, respectful but indifferent. They're nice, not worth the spooky reputation they have. Any time it's not just you at the shop, your boss tries to spook them away. Good thing your boss isn't here tonight, because one of them is prowling around the storefront in the rain. That is, if it's not your spliff induced haze playing tricks on you.

No, one of them is out there. Without his little pack. The cute one. Marko.

You walk over to the door, which you haven't had propped open since the rain trickled in as a drizzle at the beginning of your shift. At least he had enough sense to be huddling under the awning. Fuck, he’s handsome even when he looks like a drowned rat.

“What are you doing out here?” You scrunch up your nose as you ask.

“Y’know, waiting for you to show up.” Wanted a look at that cute ass.

You blink at him. Did he really just say that?

“Okay… well, you know it's raining out there, right?”

“I might,” he offers noncommittally, eyeing the spliff still in the hand that's not holding the door. If it were anyone but him, you'd probably get fired for it.

Why is he just hanging around out here? That's hella weird. His curls are getting matted to his forehead, slick with rain, his jacket starting to look a little sad.

“C’mon in, Marko. It’s too wet out here. You’ll fuck up your jacket.” You nod towards the interior of the shop holding the door open as he passes you.

Wrong move, sweet cheeks.

“What did you say?” What did he mean, wrong move?

“I didn't say anything,” he offers nonchalantly as he thumbs at one of the tapestries on the wall. A garish mess that’s supposed to be the worm from Alice in Wonderland, but it’s distorted by a botched tie dye job of dark muddy colors. Every time you look at it, you assume one of the day workers did it.

“No, you said something.”

“Do you want me to say something?” there's both a threat and an innuendo in his tone. Maybe you do, but you just laugh, a sharp exhale through your nose, and bring the spliff to your lips again as he follows you deeper into the store.

You jump up onto the counter next to the ash tray, easy reach for each time you need to ash.

“So why are you really here?” your eyes narrow at him, kicking your sandal off on the floor where it lands a few inches from his boots. He looks uneasy in the space, like for all the wild shit you assume he’s into, he might not actually belong in it. He sways a little to the music, perfectly in tune with the rhythm. You sway along too, and suddenly he fills the space like he belongs. He just needed someone along for the ride with him.

“Do you ever come around during the day, or just at night because I’m so fun?” You’re teasing him, but it’s a nice easy feeling between you.

“Not really a sun guy,” bullshit, he would look beautiful with a tan, “but I do drag everyone here just to see you.”

“Awww, all for me? Do you have a crush, Marko?”

It’s more than that. You hear the words clearly, but his smile doesn’t move. You kick the other sandal off.

“I can hear you, I don’t know how, but I can. I bet you can hear me too.”

I can. You’re wrong about the tan thing.

You straighten up, mind clearing as you blurt out your next question. Something absolutely stupid.

“So what are you, a vampire or something?” he laughs at you, but his big toothy smile doesn't reach his eyes. No, there's something predatory, extremely dark in his eyes. Otherworldly.

How could you guess?

“Well, that for one big fucking clue.” You ash the spliff for the final time, leaving the roach in the tray. You would think you’d be more surprised, more upset that you just found out vampires were real, and that you were in the same room as one. You have to say, weirder things are probably afoot in Santa Carla. Murder capital of the world can’t all be from some rowdy teens and a ten year old.

“You do those surf nazis?” is all that leaves your mouth. You kind of hope it was. They were the fucking worst. Racist, misogynistic, destructive. You’d had to threaten them a few times to leave your store on your shift.

“The—? Oh! Surf nazis. Yeah that was us. Ate a few of them.”

“Good for you. I mean— murder. bad. But they were nazis, and now they’re dead. so…” you trail off. Not really sure what to say next, but then you keep going. Remember everything you know about Marko.

“No, no I mean, it makes sense. Right? You and the guys only hang around at night. Aren’t vampires solitary hunters though? I don’t remember Dracula being in a frat.”

“They’re my pack. We take care of each other.” He says it with such fondness and devotion.

You feel a pang of jealousy run through you. You work alone for the most part, live alone, you’ve got friends but they’re all over the place. He belongs to something.

“And you're down with this?” he’s legitimately asking. You nod. You don't really have a choice, you're down or you get eaten, but like genuinely you are down with it. If he was going to eat you, he probably would have by now. There's probably a reason they've been hanging around the store, and in your sightline while you close up. You're putting things together.

“Like really?”

“Well, you haven't made me a kebab yet.”

He shrugs, frowns.

“Could still skewer you on something.”

Laughter erupts from your lips while you roll your eyes, music to Marko’s ears. This is why he took a shine to you, it's easy to get along with you, and you're not one of his brothers.

Something heavy falls in the room, and it's not the haze of the incense. He steps towards you, big blue eyes raking over your body, but always coming back to meet your gaze. He closes the space between you, easily fitting between your thighs; the rough patches of his jacket brushing against your bare skin where your shorts ride up. He leans in, like he's about to kiss you, and against all better judgement, you're going to let him.

You're going to let him.

The record skips. He holds out his hand, more like a gentleman than a biker gang killer, and helps you off the counter.

“Hold on, let me pick out a new record,” you turn without waiting for his confirmation, not at all surprised when Marko follows hot on your heels to the back room. Your boss’ office, the record room. Whatever you wanted to call it. His hands ghost over your arms as you push past the wooden bead curtain to enter the room. You can feel his presence close enough to touch. That's it, right where I want you. There’s his voice again.

He lets you actually pick out a new record. You slide it out of the sleeve and walk it over to the player. The static buzzes and pops as the needle finds the groove.

“Ocean Rain, you heard it?” No. He shakes his head, and you can feel it as he leans into your back.

“Echo and the Bunnymen. They've got a new album coming out this year.”

You turn to face him and his fingerless leather glove clad hands cover your cheeks.

He kisses you gently, tenderly. Not at all the way you’d expect. He’s eager, kissing like there’s something to prove. He licks his way into your mouth, tongue pushing your lips apart and you let him. His arms tighten around you as you kiss, tongues now greeting each other playfully. Your tongue explores his mouth, running along each and every tooth in his mouth. Huh, no fangs, you realize, and maybe he isn't actually a vampire. As if he reads your mind (maybe he does), he pulls away.

“They're, uh, hiding,’ he nods, almost to himself more than you. You nod as well, slow and uneasy, not quite believing him, but he pulls you back into a harsh kiss, more of what you expected. His hands roam your body as yours bury themselves in his curls. Still damp, but long and beautiful just as well. He shrugs the jacket off his shoulders, and his hands only briefly leave you to throw it and his gloves somewhere else, leaving him just in a thin white tank top. His mouth leaves yours to trail lower, kissing your neck. Your pulse point. Fucking irresistable. No, that's definitely his voice. Is this the end? Could be.

“I can smell you, hot stuff,” he moans into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You find yourself gripping onto his shoulders a little tighter, but he lets you sink. He guides you, again more gently than you thought he would; bare knees brushing the threadbare carpet floor before you plant yourself. You look up at him through your lashes and he all but bites back a groan.

“You gonna join me down here?” You lick your lips, waiting for something.

“Nah, I’m gonna let you have a head start,” there's a joke in his tone. You're learning that’s normal for him. He’s silent, or playing jester. It’ll be interesting when you let him fuck you. Shit, did he hear that?

“Quit thinkin’ so loud!” he runs an affectionate hand through your hair. “But yes, I heard you. Glad you're as eager as I am.”

That's encouraging. You take your time undoing his belt, connected to faded and soft leather chaps, not bothering to push them down his thighs before you move to the top of his jeans, teasing your fingers at the skin just above the waistline. He shudders under your touch, extremely reactive. Does he get touched like this often? Or is it just quick fucks? You don't want to think about who else he might be doing this with, focusing again on his body, and all of the offending clothing covering it. You unbutton them slowly, teasing. For a member of the undead, he seems to be out of breath under your movements. The zipper is pulled down just as slowly. You run your palms flat along the bottom of his stomach, to his hips before pushing his jeans down to around his ankles, hooking his boxers on your finger along with them. He’s beautiful, and you can help but stare. Hard, eager, and thick, greeting you with a small trimmed patch of golden blonde curls. You wrap your hand around the base.

You never expected a vampire to whimper, but that's exactly what happens when your tongue darts out of your mouth to lick the head of his cock. Quick, tentative little lick, testing the waters. Your tongue swipes across the slit at the tip of his thick member and his hands animate like you flipped a switch, rising up, going to your hair, rising up again, slamming down against the desk. Your boss’ desk. You lick a long stripe to the underside of his cock, paying close attention to the prominent vein there.

“So good, so good, oh you feel so-” he pants out, hands white knuckling the edge of the desk. Heat pools in your core, loving that he’s so vocal. Fuck, if he could just keep speaking. Your other hand moves to your shorts, sloppily and hastily undoing them and wiggling them down to your knees. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock and sink down on it, taking him as far as you can, until you couch when he hits the back of your throat.

“You look fucking beautiful like that. Please move, Please move, you’re so fucking good at this.”

You do, starting to bob your head up and down on the length of him, hollowing out your cheeks and flattening your tongue against him, cupping and massaging his balls in your hand. Your free finds itself between your legs, rubbing gently at your clit, stirred and encouraged by his praise.

“Does sucking me off get you hot and bothered?” Yesitdoes.

You keep bobbing your head, rubbing your clit, eyes trained on his until his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches in your mouth.

“Don't wanna- don't wanna finish in your mouth,” he’s urgent, grabbing you by the chin and pulling your mouth off of his cock. He pushes you back by your shoulders, letting you guide yourself back to lay on the rug. He pulls your loose shorts easily off your legs and settles himself between your legs, too eager to bother with removing his boots and everything.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long. Do you know how bad I wanted this?”

“Fuck me, Marko, dont say it. Just do it,” youre breathless under him, wanting nothing more than for him to be fucking you. He pauses.

“I dunno…” his thumb swipes up along your clit, drawing a whine from your throat, “For some reason I think you like it when I say things.”

You nod, knowing words will fail you. And he gives you what you want, lining himself up and sinking into you, groaning as he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“Oh I knew your pussy would feel like fucking heaven,” he pants against your neck, pressing a harsh kiss to the underside of your jaw. He sets the pace quickly, unmerciful and fast, fucking hard and deep into you. His hands push up your thin tee shirt, and you can feel his sigh of relief when he gets a handful of bare breast. He doesn't have to deal with a bra tonight. You hike your knees up, opening yourself as much as you can to him, wanting him to fill you to the brim. He looks into your eyes while he fucks you, which comes as a surprise to you. Maybe it shouldn't. You wonder what it would be like to be a victim of his. Does he treat them well? Have fun with them like this? Or is he vicious? You don't know if you could picture him like that… vamped out.

“What does it feel like?”

“What?” he thrusts sharply, snapping his hips into you, making you yelp.

“To be fed on, but not to die.”

Are you serious? You hear him in your head.

YesIam. He thrusts like that again, earning an identical yelp, now coupled with your thighs squeezing him around the middle. You're close already, and he can tell.

He nods, a question; You nod, confirmation.

He pulls at the neckline of your shirt, already scooping so it doesn’t ruin, and exposes your shoulder. Somewhere non lethal. His other hand comes up to grip your jaw, covering your neck but being careful not to squeeze it. You hope he bruises your jaw, you realize. A physical way to feel him when dawn comes. He slows his pace to a rocking, grinding into you, staying deep.

Then he bites. Stars erupt behind your eyes, and it feels like your blood has turned to seltzer. Every nerve in your body is in overdrive as you moan and shake and come undone around his cock. You're the kind of girl that comes from the bite of a vampire, apparently. He doesn’t let up. You can faintly hear him moaning against the open wound in your shoulder, and you hope you taste good to him. He licks the wound a few times more, softly, carefully, like he’s trying to soothe you when he finally lets you come down from your high.

When he pulls back to let you see him, his features are gruesome, full vampire with sharp brows and cheekbones, pointed nose even that much more so almost birdlike. Fangs and bottom half of his face covered in blood.Your blood. He’s panting like an animal after the kill. But he doesn't scare you. Maybe he should, but he doesn't. It's just Marko, no matter what, and if he wanted to eat you he would have. Several times now. His hand finally releases your jaw, to wipe the blood from his face. He wipes his hand then on your face, covering you in your own blood, hot on his fingers and palm.

“Fuckin sexy,” he pants, voice deeper and distorted. His thrusts speed up, trying to find his own release as your nails dig into his back, maybe making him bleed as well. You feel the rug burn forming on your back, you feel tears in your eyes. It's never felt this good with other guys.

When he comes, he comes with a howl, buried deep inside you as he shouts and shivers then stills above you. Your chest is heaving, trying to regain yourself as his face slowly fades to normal, and he slumps down on top of you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, near the wound he tore open, now no longer bleeding. He mouths at any bare skin he can find, lazy half kisses as he spreads more mess and blood on you. Your fingers find his curls again, winding them around your digits as you stare up at the sickly green mood lighting bathing the walls of the room.

An hour later, Marko is helping you lock up early.

He makes sure to dump out all of the ashes from spliffs and incense, makes sure the vinyl is all in its right place while you make sure the register and inventory is all in its rightful place and order.

“You’re dangerous, you know.”

“Me?” you scoff, “That rich, coming from you.”

I’d do a lot of things I’m not supposed to for you. You kinda don't want to ask him what he means by that. For some reason that feels like a conversation you shouldn't have tonight.

He leaves the store before you, holding the door open for you and letting you lock the doors. He slings an easy arm over your shoulder, not bothering to shield either of you from the rain as he steers you towards your car. You can feel the rain cleaning your face, the blood flowing away and saving you the shower you were going to take before collapsing into bed tonight.

“Where’s your bike?”

“I flew here,” he says with that devilish smile, and you're really not sure if he's joking or not. Your arm sneaks its way into his jacket and wraps around his waist, holding him close as he makes sure you get home same. Marko makes you feel calm, in a way you didn't feel before you moved to Santa Carla. How long had he been waiting to make his move? And does this mean he and his brothers would be coming around more often? Maybe being more friendly towards you. Each step towards your car feels heavy; You don't want to go home alone without him, but somehow you know he won't come with you.

“Will I see you again?”

He grabs your car keys from your hand, and sticks them in the door handle. Of course you will.

Right. You just have to be near the beach at night. You know, where you work.

He kisses you full on the mouth, holding you close and tight, like you could slip away at any second. When he finally lets you go you pull away to be met with his face, full on grinning, his eyes still closed from the kiss. He doesn't look like a killer.

Marko watches you as you pull open the door to your car and more or less throw your ass into the seat. He holds the door as he gives you one last smile, and says:

“You know, you should never invite a vampire into your life. Renders you powerless.”

And he winks.

#marko lost boys x reader #lost boys x reader #marko lost boys #my work

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bokutobaes · 3 years

Text

inarizaki boys when you have a bad day

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭ .・.

☆-with: atsumu, suna, kita

☆-!warnings!: swearing, parental issues, parents fighting, (there’s nothing physically violent), illness like the flu

☆-a/n: yall these are longgg LOL sorry

☆- author: lu <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭ .・.

☆ atsumu:

-his baby had a bad day :((

-just kidding he didn’t notice at first I’m so sorry nzjsjjsj

-your lockers are nearby so he’s usually waiting for you there first thing in the morning

-you woke up today with a headache and you were just really tired from studying last night :/

-you wanted to suck it up because it was your own fault for leaving the studying until the night before the test you had

-anyways, you were walking up to your locker lowkey trying to avoid eye contact with him

-“hi tsumu :)” u fricken liar with that fake smile

-“morning babe!” atsumu pulled u in for a back hug “i have to get to class kinda early for a test review so i’ll see you at lunch”

-and with that he was pecking your cheek and leaving

-“okay.. kind of good” you thought.. you didn’t wanna worry him or anything so you headed to you first class, math

-hell literally broke loose.. you forgot your pencil case and had to ask like 4 people until you got one which was embarrassing

-AND THEN the teacher called on you for an answer that you didn’t know like the universe

was against you or something

-“uhh... ummm i don’t know..” headass😩

-the class after that was slightly less dehumanizing but it was also japanese class.. the class you had a test in that you just barely studied for

-you did the test and lost braincells, blood sweat and tears LOL

-“okay class these will be graded by lunchtime so please come by to collect your scores before your next class”

-ogey :/ anyways u went to ur next class and before u knew it, it was lunch time.

-a text from atsumu made your phone vibrate while on your way to get your test scores

-“hey babe im actually gonna eat lunch with samu we’re practicing a bit at lunch”

-oh :) ok :) that’s fine :) not like u :) desperately:) need a hug :) right now :)

-“oh okay babe” you text back

-whatever u don’t need him independent queen

-that’s your mindset.. until you get those test scores

-it’s a literal fail .. did not pass the test.. ok..

-“y/n san, these test scores were not your usual best. I’m slightly disappointed, if there’s anything going on please let me know”

-“thank you sensei. i’ll do better next time.

-at this point you were just tying not to cry so you took your test and shouldered your bag and walked to a bench outside for some fresh air.

-right.. you didn’t bring lunch today

-so now you were hungry, tired, defeated, disappointed and lonely :,(

-the last class of your day went by quickly probably because you were zoned out the whole time

-the end of the day came and you were at your locker when your guardian texted you

-“Y/n, you had that test today right? I’m expecting to see the grade when your back home. Didn’t have time to make food tonight so find something to eat on your way home.”

-oh that test ? lol hahaha the one that you failed?! yeah that one haha lol lollll

-so with that, you started your walk home

-“y/n!!”

-fuck. atsumu.

-if you saw him now you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold in your tears and you really didn’t want to cry

-so your solution? pretend you didn’t hear him and walk faster lmfaokdhdh

-but atsumu, being.. well atsumu, decided to just full speed sprint towards you to put his shoulder around you

-“i literally know you heard me. i missed you today sorry about lun- why are you crying ?!!?”

-“bad day” you choked out before a shuddering gasp wracked your chest

-atsumu didn’t say anything he just wrapped you in a tight hug, petting you hair while you cried into his chest

-“its okay babe.. “ :(

-“you wanna come over? we can get food and cuddle”

-you nodded your head taking a shaky breath

-his hand reached out and wiped your tears, brushed your hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead like it was natural to him.

-and so you walked together hand in hand to atsumu’s house where you ate samu’s leftover onigiri and vented to atsumu about the day while you cuddled

-he also gave you a hoodie :,)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭ .・.

☆ suna:

-“living is a chore :|” you thought as the alarm rang through your room ruining your peaceful sleep

-it was raining outside and your mind went back to last night, the screaming match your parents had

-normally you’d be used to it but it felt like they were starting to take the anger they had for each other out on you now

-you tried not to but you started thinking about all the things your mom had yelled to you through the closed door of your bedroom

-“your just like your father. you’re selfish, lazy and all you do is run around with that little boyfriend of yours! what about your family?! you think your better then us? why don’t you move out then since your so good at being independent?!”

-everything she said was always completely blown out of proportion, she lied all the time. it’s exhausting for you

-you started getting ready for school, you wanted to see suna and your friends and laugh and just forget last night even happened

-when you got to school suna was there at your locker scrolling lazily through his phone

-you smiled, genuinely as he looked up and greeted you with a smirk

-“nice hair.”

-“wha-“ you started and then smacked his arm when you realized that your baby hairs were out of sorts “shutup” you scowled

-“good morning” suna hugged you

-“good morning”

-now you were off to class, it always went by too fast, you thought. school was always done in the blink of an eye

-“what’re you doing at lunch?” your friend tapped your shoulder and whispered to you

-“mmm nothing probably why?”

-“let’s eat on the roof today! yui told me there’s gonna be a rainbow cuz it stopped raining.”

-“okay” you smiled

-now at lunch with your friends you ate the bento you had packed before. the rainbow was there and it was beautiful

-you were having fun just laughing with your friends and texting suna while he sent terrible photos of atsumu. things were good, you had forgotten about your mom

-until the end of the day came and you had to go back home

-as usual suna was at his locker waiting so that you could walk home together

-after crossing the street you and suna were at a bike path, trees surrounding the fences

-it was a comfortable silence until...

-“what’s wrong?”

-suna asking took you by surprise, you didn’t think you were acting any different. were you?

-“what are you talking about”

-“you look sad, you did this morning too but then you were fine the rest of the day so I didn’t say anything. but, you look sad again now”

-“oh..”

-so suna just saw right through you

-“ um.. i’m okay.. it’s just ..” you laughed dryly “i don’t really want to go home”

-“did something happen?”

-“yeah.. my parents were fighting, it turned into this whole thing.” you felt a lump in your throat start to form “i don’t really wanna talk about it”

-“okay. you should just come over then, right?”

-“can i?”

-“you literally don’t even have to ask me anymore y/n” suna grabbed your hand and led the way

-when you got there suna hopped on his couch and started putting on something from netflix

-“my parents aren’t home, my sister has a dance thing today” he grabbed a blanket and you sat down, putting your head in his lap

-suna put on a comedy show, of course he would

-he played with your hair while you watched and after an episode or two, he asked

-“do you want to talk about it now?”

-and so you did, you told him what happened last night and what your mom said. your plan was to not cry but that failed miserably

-suna listened intently, he told you the truth, he said that what she said wasn’t true, he told you you could sleepover whenever you needed to.

-kissed you and wrapped you back in the blanket

-“i love you, you know that right? always.”

-he always knew what to say and you loved him for that

-“i love you too, suna”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭ .・.

☆ kita:

-kita knew, first thing he noticed when he saw you that you weren’t okay

-you woke up with a terrible headache, aching body and stomachache

-so this is it? this is hell? ok.

-but the test.. you had a test today. fortunately you had actually studied for weeks because you knew it was important

-mentally? you were ready for that test. physically? you had the spanish influenza

-so you weighed the options and decided you would go to school, take the test and then come back home after.

-the problem with that was that kita would in fact lecture you on all the reasons you should not have come to school

-he was right of course, but you still decided that you would need to avoid him for today

-spoiler alert it did not work

-your test was your third class of the day so you only had to get through 2 classes and you’d leave at lunch perfectly avoiding kita

-this was what you thought while you were at your locker until you closed it and walked directly into kitas chest

-“wow”

-“good morning y/n-chan”

-“morning kita! i have to go or I’ll be late!”

-you ran😭 and you almost got away too but kita grabbed your arm and pulled you to one side of the hallway

-he felt your forehead and both cheeks

-“you have a fever y/n”

-“no I don’t I’m just hot from walking to school”

-he said 😐

-you signed and rested your head on his chest letting your arms dangle

-“why did you come? you look sick”

-“thanks. I have a test.”

-“how do you feel?”

-you told him your symptoms but also that you were leaving right after the test and you could pull through

-he really didn’t want you to overwork yourself but he knew you were set on taking the test

-so he let you go and he made you promise to text him between classes and let him know if you felt any worse

-and off you went

-honestly, you were fine up until halfway through your second class.. then you started feeling really cold and tired even kind of nauseous

-then in the third class your test was put onto your desk and before you knew it your teacher was saying “begin”

-okay. you can do this you thought to yourself. the test was easy enough with how much you studied, you thought about every answer and you tried to finish quick

-but then it was like time cut itself in half and the bell for lunch was ringing

-you weren’t even done the test yet

-“y/n you can stay in here until your done but i expect you to have it finished soon”

-one question left

-you don’t even remember what you ended up putting before you were up and giving the paper to your teacher

-kita was right there when you left the classroom

-“hey ..hey.. y/n”

-you could barely hear him you just flopped into his arms

-“okay I’m taking you home.. “

-“but..”

-“shh let’s go”

-you don’t remember getting there but then you were in your bed smothered in pillows and blankets

-kita came in

-“what time is it?”

-he looked at his phone “half past 4”

-“4?!” you jolted up “did you even go back to school?” “kita?!”

-he smiled at you “no but it’s okay y/n it was only one day. i wanted to take care of you

-you noticed he had a steaming cup of something in his hands

-“what’s that” you asked

-“its tea, but it’s special tea :)”

-“what do you mean” you laughed

-“my grandma showed me how to make it, it’s gonna make you feel a lot better”

-he’s so cute...

-“kita... you didn’t have to do all this”

-“i wanted to” he sits beside you and hands you the tea

-literally tasted like heaven

-“mmmmm oh my god”

-kita laughed and kissed you on the cheek before joining you in the bed

-you cuddled and watched movies on your laptop until you fell asleep, comfortable in your boyfriends arms

186 notes · View notes

sorryimanon · 4 years

Text

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!Reader, Izuku Midoriya x NB!Reader

Warnings: some angst, FLUFF, and our boys being the best boys.

In which they comfort you after a rough day or week

A/N: im sorry if Izukus section is shorter than Bakugou’s. trying to practice writing other characters. enjoy!

Saturday's are reserved strictly by the majority of the girls from class 1-A, leaving the guys to hibernate inside their dorms as they allow the commencement of girls night. You've never rain checked nor rejected the idea of spending quality time with your friends, considering all the tribe's and trepidation's everyone has endured together during their time at the academy. It's nice to just strip away the stress and dip your toes in pure relaxation.

Unfortunately, you woke up with a bad case of cloudy thoughts. For the past week you've been carrying the weight of dread, causing your mood to drastically change throughout the day. You'd be having a civil conversation with someone one minute and then the next minute you're completely irritated by their presence. You've tried to balance it out and fix it overnight with the regimes you researched on the internet. A new sleeping schedule, healthier diet, yoga, and even went to the extreme of writing in a journal. It was all so cut throat and prestigious, nothing close to your liking. Katsuki made fun of you for it one day when he snuck into your room and read the many inscriptions in your journal entries.

"This stuff reminds of Deku. Always shoving his nose in that stupid notebook of his," he didn't care much to hear your refutes about Izuku. "Anyways, what's with all this depressing shit you are writing? You don't really feel this way do you?"

You didn't give him a definite answer that day. Only a curt "no" and he resumed rambling about his day like nothing happened, having you listening with his voice like white noise going in one ear and out the other.

And that's how it went on throughout the duration of the prior week before Saturday.

Inside the confinement of your dorm, you made the rational decision to sleep in instead of attending classes. The chilling thoughts kept you up all night, never once allowing sleep to take full throttle. You tossed and turned around on your bed, unable to shut off your brain. So when you woke up in the peak of late afternoon, you weren't surprised to see the unread messages on your phone. All of them were from your explosive boyfriend.

King Explosion🤍: Oi you running late? Mr.Sleepy head is taking roll call

King Explosion🤍: y/n where tf r u?

King Explosion🤍: fine don't answer me ig

King Explosion🤍: are you at least coming down for lunch? i made curry last night and imma make you finish it

King Explosion🤍: fking hurry before dunce face eats it

King Explosion🤍: nvm he ate it 😐

Katsuki never intended for the message to be funny. He's probably blowing actual steams of smoke through his nostrils and ears while chasing kamanari amongst the halls. The comical imagery made you laugh harder. At least he made you crack a smile. You haven't shown any emotions let alone a hint of enthusiasm for tonight.

Maybe it'd be best to sit this one out.

"Hey, we're missing a person! Where's my y/n?" Mina asked after scanning the group of girls huddled around on the carpeted floor.

Momo shifted uncomfortably on the cushioned pillow she stole from the couch. "Y/N said she wasn't feeling too well to join us for tonight. Something about food poisoning and throwing up every hour."

In unison all the girls gasped, along with a concerned 'ribbit' from Tsuyu.

"Well I hope she gets to feeling better. I wouldn't want her to endure such sickness for much longer," Tsuyu croaked out.

Everyone in the circle agreed and promised to pay a visit later in the night to check on you.

On the fourth floor, Katsuki stared blankly at his phone, hands shaking due to the repressed anger he's been holding. Each of the messages he sent previously were all left on read, including the one he sent an hour ago asking if he could have a cuddle session with you before girls night. Yes, even an ill tempered guy such as him enjoys sappy shit like cuddling. After pacing back and forth in his room for a solid 5 minutes, he was now dead set on confronting you in front of your friends.

Katsuki made a beeline for the elevator and aggressively pressed the 1st floor button repeatedly in hopes it'll make the process go quicker. He reached the commons area in precision time, overhearing the girls giggle after someone suggested playing truth or dare. He towered over Uraraka's figure, casting a demonic shadow version of himself in the circle. Hagakure shrieked and clung onto Jirou.

"Where's y/n you extras?" He demanded, voice deafening the brunette under him.

"She didn't come tonight. She's in her dorm room sick," Jirou explained to him as she tried pry the invisible girl off her arm.

"Like hell she's sick!" Katsuki spun around quickly and retreated back to the elevator, mumbling obscenities under his breath. "She's going to pay for being so careless and irresponsible."

The commons room fell silent once the explosive blonde disappeared behind the doors of the elevator, all eyes searching each other in complete shock. Uraraka was the first to speak out of the small group.

“Should we warn y/n that Bakugou is coming for her?”

Jirou averted her gaze to the direction bakugou left off from, a ghost of a smirk spreading on her face.

“Nah. Knowing y/n, she can handle the asshole on her own.”

King Explosion🤍: can i come over? i wanna cuddle, i miss u

The text message kept flashing behind your eyes every-time you closed them - a sad image of Katsuki waiting impatiently for you to reply back with a heart or one of those unusual memes he unapologetically adores. You knew he’d be furious, no doubt about it, but you rationalized your decision and concluded it would be best to avoid your boyfriend like the plague till this undesired feeling dissipates. Katsuki doesn’t do well with people being emotional, let alone handle his own emotions for god’s sake.

Your own thoughts were interrupted by someone raping the outside of your door. The continuous knocks made your head spin, a painful sting ghosting back and forth between your eyes. Remembering back to an hour ago, you messaged one of the girls that you weren’t going to make it to tonight’s session. Surely they respected your wishes and continued on with their hangout? But you forgot about the one person who’s persistent and stubborn like a cat.

“I know you’re in there y/n! You may have fooled your idiotic friends with a lie, but you keep on forgetting you’re terrible at lying!” Katsuki hollers against the wood of the door, not once being considerate of those living above her.

He’s right. You’re absolutely horrible at making up excuses for yourself. Dating someone as intuitive as him will be the death of you.

“If there’s something going can you at least let me in? You can’t ignore me forever y/n.”

Again, he’s right.

You slipped out from the comfort of your bed and padded towards the door, mentally preparing for the blonde to scold you once he enters your room. What you weren’t prepared for was the tears swelling up in the ducts of his vermillion eyes - his hands clenched tightly into fists as he looked down at you. Your breathing hitched when his arm outstretched to rest on the door frame to keep his trembling body steady.

“What the hell y/n? Why the fuck have you been ignoring me?! Did I do something wrong?!” He asked, not caring about his current appearance.

You grab ahold of his other arm and absentmindedly started rubbing it affectionately, trying to coax him into calming down. “Katsuki no! You didn’t do anything wrong! Why would you think that?”

“Because dumbass, you’ve been distant this past week,” he paused, choking on his words. “Are...are you breaking up with me?”

Your eyes shot up instantly at his horrifying assumption. “Katsuki, if I tell you the truth, will you promise not to make things worse for me?”

He tilted his head in confusion, but nodded once you led him into your messy bedroom. Once inside, your boyfriend plopped down on your bed, watching intently as you anxiously bit down on your nails - a nervous habit you picked up at the beginning of the school year.

“I’ve been feeling weird lately. Ever since the beginning of last week. I don’t know how to describe it but, my brain is constantly feeding into my already negative state. Telling me things I know aren’t true but I’ve convinced myself they are. Almost as if a grey cloud is hovering above me,” tears were already starting to pour down your cheeks. “I just...I just feel so miserable and lonely and useless and irritated and- I’m so sorry for ignoring you. You probably want nothing to do with me after this!”

You manage to turn away from the sight of the blonde during your speech, ashamed of pouring out your emotions onto a person who disregards other peoples emotions and constitutes them as a quote on quote “pussy”.

From behind, you can hear faint shuffling nearing your already shaken up figure. A pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a wall that could only be described as his own chiseled chest, doing the same as you did moments ago with his arm - lulling you to calm down a notch before he stared speaking.

“If you been feeling this way, why lie when I asked you a few days ago after reading your journal?”

“I know how you are, Katsuki. You get very uncomfortable when people talk about their feelings. So, why should I be any different?”

Your boyfriend suddenly maneuvers you around in the circle of his arms, shifting to where you’re now making direct eye contact with him. His gaze intense and unwavering.

“Because you’re my girlfriend? I don’t give a rats ass about any of these extras. When it comes to you, I’d make an exception for. I made that promise to myself when we first started seeing each other. So don’t think for a second that I’ll disregard your true feelings, dumbass.” He stepped a couple of inches backwards, ankles eventually hitting the bottom of your bed - making him fall and dragging you along with him. You landed on top of him, head still buried in the depths of his hard chest. The vibrations of his chuckle shook your whole body. Katsuki gently titled your head to be leveled with his, a red tint of blush painting his pallid cheeks.

“I’m being serious though. Don’t be afraid to come to me when things get tough, okay? I love you too much to see you like this.”

Next thing you knew your boyfriend stole your breath away by meshing his plump lips onto yours, hands snaking their way into your hair and carefully massaging it. By all means, you let him have his way with you by kissing the sadness away, tears puddling together cheek on cheek.

He let go eventually, pecking a quick chaste kiss on the side of your mouth before hauling you further into the bed. You settled on letting him spoon you, knowing how much he likes the feeling of your backside pressed against him, and the fruity aroma of your hair infiltrating his senses.

“I promise Katsuki,” you said after some time during the cuddle session.

He shifted in his spot, head placed firmly in the crook of your neck. “Promise what?”

“That I’ll come to you when these thoughts return again. I should trust you by now, and I need to not let these emotions ruin everything in my life. I love you that much.

Your confession swelled the very last evidence of Katsuki being a human being, his heart.

He smiled weakly to himself and nuzzled more into your shoulder, brushing his warm lips against the tender skin. “You better, dumbass.”

Today was just so exhausting, and the big fat 'D-‘ written in red ink on your final report was the icing on the cake. To make things even worse, Aizawa reminded the whole class before the exam that this was to determine wether or not if you'll be joining the training camp that'll commence the following winter break.

Hopefully this was one of your teacher's terrible deception tactics into making everyone do their absolute best, go plus ultra even. But to your dismay, he was indeed very serious of the matter this time.

It wasn't your fault, not entirely. You stayed up all night listening to another one of your boyfriends rambles, the conversation lasting till 2 am. Izuku grew worrisome and anxious ever since his encounter with a gruesome villain, thus resulting in him to pour his emotions out onto you. Poor baby kept mentioning the safety of All Might and you.

Solemnly, you left class and trailed back to your dorm room, wanting to ignore the jovial atmosphere inside the cramped room as everyone traded and talked about their scores.

Izuku noticed you leaving abruptly and got up from his desk to follow you behind, bidding a quick goodbye to his friends.

Your room was dark and dramatically colder than usual, a trickle of light threatening to pour in from the cascading sunset. You laid down on your stomach with one of your pillows propped on your head, in hopes to shield away anyone from seeing your ugly-crying face.

Too late because Izuku was already standing outside your dorm room, swaying back and forth on his feet while biting down harshly on his lip. He can hear your soft cries seeping through the door. He doesn't know why he's hesitating, he's your boyfriend after all.

Moments later you hear the acute sounds of someone knocking on your door, followed by the soft spoken voice of your green haired boyfriend.

"Baby? Can I come in? I-If that's okay with you I m-mean! It's alright if you need some space but you left class so early I figured something happened to you and I got really worried because you always wait for Iida and uraraka to walk us back to the dorms as a group and maybe it had something to do with what I was telling you last night-."

You crack the door just a smidge before fully opening it, revealing your bloodshot eyes and tear stained shirt to him. His breathing hitched once his eyes fixated on your disheveled state.

"Can you comfort me? I need you right now Izuku," your voice cracked a little, throat still tight after the crying session.

His strong, lean arms wrapped around your body momentarily, encasing you into a bear hug. Hugs from Izuku were amazing, no exceptions. He placed a quick peck on the crown of your forehead.

"C'mon, let's get inside and snuggle. How does that sound?" he asked as he unwrapped himself and took your trembling hand, leading you back inside the dimly lit room.

Izuku laid you gently down on your side once reaching the bed, crawling alongside with you before draping the covers over the both of you. His familiar hands snake around your waist and nudges you to roll over. You obliged and shifted your body to face his, sparkly green eyes staring straight at you.

"Tell me, what's wrong baby? Does it have to do with the recent exam?" his thumb started tracing delicate lines on your hips, your uniform long gone and now replaced with comfortable clothes instead.

"I failed Izuku...I did so terrible on the written exam. I kept falling in and out of sleep during the test that I didn't have time to finish the middle portion of it," you exhaled a shaky breath. "Who knows what'll happen on the practical. I'll probably fail that too...I'm such a failure compared to everyone."

Izuku grabbed the tender flesh of your cheeks and directed your vision to level with his. He looked angry and concerned.

"Don't say that y/n! You're not a failure! That exam doesn't determine wether or not if you're good enough to be a hero. I've seen you in action hun, and I know for a fact that you're possibly the most strongest person I've met in my lifetime! You're ambitious, smart, determined, and so freaking beautiful." He then kissed you tenderly on the lips, his eyes closing slightly due to the contact.

"So...freaking...beautiful." He whispers against your mouth.

His sentimental words were enough for you to push back the negativity and simply enjoy the intimate moment.

Izuku lifted his head away from your face to rest it against your temple. "You're going to do great things, okay? One failing grade isn't going to be the end of the world. Trust me sweetheart, I've had my fair share in failures during our time here in Yuuei. But look at me now, still standing."

You nuzzled more into his chest, tickling his chin with your hair. Faintly, you can hear the pitter patter of his heart beat bursting through his rib cage.

"Would you love me even if I was a horrendous looking-failure?" you were clearly teasing him, but sometimes Izuku became dense when it came to that.

"Y/n! W-Why would you ask that! Of course I would you dummy! I'd love you no matter what."

This time you return the favor and kiss him, knowing how to easily fluster him in seconds. He whimpers into your mouth at the sudden contact and cups your jawline affectionately.

The two of you stayed like that till the moon shone through the balcony curtains, illuminating your skin in a dusty glow.

Lips bruised and swollen red, you laid lifelessly in his arms, letting him wove his scarred fingers through your hair. Izuku would occasionally stop to peck your lips, then resumes his attention back to your hair.

"I'm sorry by the way. I shouldn't have kept you up last night before the exam. I'm such a horrible boyfriend..." he admitted suddenly.

"Yes. Yes you are."

He gasped and stopped his movements altogether, obviously taken aback by your blunt words.

You giggled and said, "Kidding. You're the best boyfriend. Apology accepted.”

After hearing that, Izuku shoved himself onto your chest and let out muffled cry. "D-Don't scare me like that. Almost made me have a heart a-attack!"

#mha imagines #mha x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine #bnha izuku #midoriya izuku #izuku x you #izuku x reader #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x you #midoriya headcanons #deku x you #deku x reader

323 notes · View notes

kuronanox · 3 years

Text

Home is you - Ulquiorra Schiffer

"Hello? Hello~" (Your Name) sings shaking the pale man up from his sleep.

Opening his eyes slowly he blinked a few times looking at his surroundings. "Where am I? Why aren't I in los noches?"

"Jeez you creep! Don't go sleeping around the park like that! I know Japan is safe but I thought you were dead for a second." She says sighing in relief offering a hand.

Ulquiorra slaps her hand away and gets up realizing he wasn't in his uniform but some random t shirt and jeans.

"What have you done women?"

"Me?! I woke you up. That's what I did now, do you have someone you should be? It's getting late."

Looking around he couldn't sense any reistu, he couldn't bring his sword out or use cero. Till he remembered his fight with Ichigo. Ulquiorra remember dissolving into nothing.

"I-I don't understand." He stuttered, frustrated at the emotions he was feeling at the moment. He was lost, why was he here? Was he reborn a human? But why did he remember everything of his past life.

A salty tear slipped in his lips as he touched his face confused. "Is this the human emotion of feeling frustrated? Feeling hopeless? Powerless?"

"I'm sorry. Do you need a place to stay?" (Your Name) asks more sympathetically watching the man breakdown in front of her.

The walk to a capsule hotel was quiet, she was surprise he asked for help. "I paid for you. I hope you find your way after tonight." She tells him as he looks into nothing and says nothing before taking his leave.

(Your Name) watches his back and sighs. "Maybe he's homeless?"

Ulquiorra laid in the comfy bed lost in thoughts, what had happen to the war? To Ichigo? To Aizen?

Why did he have to be reincarnated as a weak human?

"So this is human emotions?" He says out loud looking at himself in the mirror. He examined his face, was he always this pale and fragile looking?

Pissed he hit the capsule and nothing broke.

He was weak now, weak in mind and powerless.

He didn't know how he was going to survive.

It had been a few days and (Your Name) walked around trying to find the man. She felt a attraction towards him, like she was suppose to help him. She had no luck the past few days trying to find him.

"You have to pay for that thief!" A sales man yelled shoving Ulquiorra out his store.

"I'll kill you stupid human." He says in a monotone voice and raised his finger to use cero but nothing came out.

"You need help man!" The sales man yelled walking away in disbelief as Ulquiorra stared at his finger.

(Your Name) sighed in relief and ran towards him. "Hey! It's you again. What are you doing?"

"Trying to survive." He plainly says walking away still wearing the same clothes she saw him in the day they met.

"How do you plan on surviving with no job?" She asks following him as he walked to random places and examining people. "You will help me find one."

"Me?!"

"As you can tell women I'm not like you humans."

Bewildered a bit she pinched her nose bridge and sighed. "That's what I get for helping a weirdo."

"What do I get if I help you?"

"My protection." He simply says, even though his powers were gone he still was skilled with hand to hand compact.

"Just don't do anything stupid." She says as he follows her.

It was a very interesting few months that passed by, she never understood a lot of things Ulquiorra did.

He lacked a lot of empathy and emotions. He questioned what people did and enjoyed examining strangers on the street. He didn't speak much either.

He also became her protector.

"What is this manga that people are so crazy about?" He asks her one day as they sat and ate breakfast.

"As an manga artist and author it's my job to make my books into a reality. It gives people a sense of escape of our miserable lives." She says shooing him away from her work.

"Humans are weird." He simply says watching the news as she rolled her eyes.

"You know you're a human too?" She states to him and sighs.

"I am now."

There was a silence as she looked at him. He was a bit odd at first. She had to teach how to read, write and proper manners. She never questioned him though.

"So what were you before then?"

"Espada. I was an Espada."

"Huh a what?" She asks a bit taken back and lost.

"I don't know how to be thankful." He then says changing the subject as she sits across from him.

His eyes were green and he did have weird green marks on his face. "I'm starting to believe this guy."

"It's okay. I understand." She tells him as he looks at her with no smile or anything. His face was blank, she couldn't read him.

She knew he was thankful when he learned how to pick up humanity. He would pick up food for them, clean the house and when the rare opportunity comes he would beat up any stalker fans she had.

"I don't know who you were before but I promise you I'm here to help."

It was a cold winter night as they came back from Christmas shopping and picking her up from work, Ulquiorra was holding the bags as she rambled on how work went that day.

Ulquiorra wouldn't admit it but he had grown fond of her after spending everyday together. At first he has no choice to. He had no money or no home but she provided everything for him.

He would find himself smiling softly but frown after realizing what he had done.

"How was your day?" She asks him with a smile as his eyes widen a bit.

"I read books." He answered as she nodded her head.

Ulquiorra never really left the house unless he needed to. She had to admit it was comforting coming home to someone every night.

"I bought you new ones. I hope you like that."

"I enjoy all the books you've bought me." He says looking forwards at the snowing street.

She gasp a bit as he looked a way a bit confused. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No I'm just happy. Happy your expressing your emotions more."

He didn't say anything afterwards as she entered the warm house and set the gifts under the tree.

"I'm going to get some rest." He says and leaves to his room.

Before she could ask if he ate she saw that he had food already made for her.

"He sure is a fast learner for not being human."

Ulquiorra escaped to his room and laid in bed. He really was growing emotions, the more he stayed here the more he felt every emotions.

The emotions of pain, loneliness, sadness.

Recently he didn't feel any of those he felt happy, safe, secure. Was this the human way of saying he was satisfied of his life right now.

He didn't know but he felt a comfort of having someone by him at times. Unlike los noches, he was alone and don't know how to talk to people.

(Your Name) gave him a sense of living again and he would try to fit in this world. There was no way he could change the past so he decided might as well live for the future.

It was weird for Ulquiorra to have these thoughts, it was a new thing to him.

Before he lived for nothing but killing.

"What did you do before becoming human?" She asks him one night as they watched a movie. Well she had to force him to watch it.

"Kill."

"Okay? More explanation."

"I was created to kill, that was my only purpose in life. My home had nothing but sand and a moon."

"What did you eat?"

"My people."

She wanted to not believe him but every word he said were straightforward and he never blinked once. He didn't tell lies to her. "Interesting. So what happen? Did you get eaten or die?"

"I lost in a battle and disappeared into dust and I woke up here."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" He asks curiously a bit taken back from her words.

"I don't know you don't seem happy here."

He blinked a few times and tried his best to smile but it didn't come along. "I am satisfied as you humans say."

She sighed in relief and sadly smiled. She never really given the thought of being somewhere new with no one and not being able to fit in.

"I realize how hard it must have been for you, when people call you strange and treat you like an outcast. It must have been hard."

Ulquiorra sits with his legs crossed and tilted his head giving it thought.

"I don't need anyone if I have you."

There was a mutual understanding between the two even though words of expression were rarely ever spoken.

"I'm really glad to have you." She answered back feeling the warmth of her cheeks turn pink.

"As I am too."

(Your Name) had gone to a late meeting with a few of her editors and seeing it was past midnight she didn't wanna wake ulquiorra up from sleep to walk her home.

She lived in a nice part of Tokyo but in a quiet area so people rarely ever walked on her road.

It was raining hard as she made cover underneath a store. Sighing she pulled her phone out and tried to speed dial Ulquiorra number before a loud rumbled hit the floor and she looked up to see a hollow.

At first she didn't wanna believe it but the thing was real and screaming walking towards her.

"(Your Name)."

"Ulquiorra- there's a, there's a monster charging towards me."

The phone line went dead as he rushed out to find her.

Running in the rain he spotted the hollow immediately. "Don't get any closer to her trash." He spoke as it roared.

Ulquiorra had lost all his powers but luckily he knew some move although none of it worked as he was easily slapped away as he hit the floor hard and he groaned.

"This human body is pathetic."

Watching the hollow grab (Your Name) he felt every emotion go through him. The pain, sadness, frustration. She was screaming as she reached out her hand to his.

He called out her name and whined in pain before blacking out.

"Ulquiorra!" She yelled to him but he didn't respond. Looking back at the hollow it open it's mouth to consume her as she shut her eyes a green light was glowing around her.

"I told you I would protect you." He says to her as she opened her eyes to see him in a white uniform and he was standing on air. STANDING ON AIR!

With one smack the hollow diminished into nothing as Ulquiorra settled her down safely on the road.

"You. You got your power back! How?"

Ulquiorra thought back about his fight and realized the same thing happen to Ichigo and he finally understood why he came back.

"Someone important to me is worth protecting." He reply's as she tears up and hugged him tightly as he gasped.

Sadly smiling to himself where no one could see him he embraced her back.

"Ulquiorra?" She asks him that same night as they sat on the roof top and he was still in gear. "Yes?"

"Does this mean you are leaving?"

He doesn't answer and looks down. He thinks back on how life was here in the human world. It was quite fun here. He didn't remember what he did back in the barren sand and dark night.

"No. Unless I have to."

She sighed in relief but still she knew he was different. "Just promise me, if you ever decide to leave... you will without telling me goodbye."

"I won't leave. I have no reason to go back." He plainly says looking up to the moon.

"You promise me? I can't imagine a life without you, the way you are eases me is comforting. Your the peace I needed in my chaotic mind."

He was lost for words, was this a human way for showing love?

"I to."

He wanted to say more. He liked her. Loved her. Even if he wouldn't admit it now, there was a warmth in him he had never felt before and the feeling of being needed was something he might have yearned for.

"I promise you, I'm only yours. Even if there's a obstacle between us there's way we can break it."

She smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder as he stiffen a bit and then relaxed.

He was home. Home wasn't a place for him but someone that accepted him for who he was.

It was you.

(Author note: idk why he's such a hard character to write for me. I know he seemed oc but I put in some thought of how he would be as a human.)

#bleach #tite kubo #bleach x reader #bleach oneshots #bleach oneshot #bleach ulquiorra #ulquiorra cifer #ulquiora schiffer #bleach imagines #bleach imagine #ulquiorra

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antiloreolympus · 3 years

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7 Anti LO Asks

1. ok, tell me if im wrong here, but i physically cannot find lo hades attractive because he just looks like a tumblr sexy man version of snow miser from those old stop animated christmas movies. like theyre literally the same 😭

2. I absolutely hate how everyone is making Persephone to be this bubbly little girl who is way too nice, and in LO’s case it’s the worst. Sure Persephone is associated with spring, but spring isn’t only flowers and happiness. Spring brings aprils rain, burning sun, in some places it’s hunting season, and animals which were hibernating wake up and go and hunt other animals and you know, kill them and eat them. Spring is uncontrollable weather, one moment it’s warm a couple of minutes later it’s cold again. Today is sunny tomorrow there’s a storm. Associating Persephone only with the good parts of spring makes her a weak and one dimensional character, especially since she is also knows as queen of the underworld. Spring brings as much death as it brings life. It is not a cutesy season and associating Persephone with it and just making it this cartoonish is a dumb move. In some panels Hades talks about how there were some moments where spring seemed much more wild and uncontrollable, since Persephone was the one doing the work. Why can’t we see that in LO? If Persephone is spring why isn’t she wild and uncontrollable as well? This part of Persephone should have been written from the beginning, instead of seeing a little melancholic girl who can’t say no to people.

3. LO could have beee more creative with the modern timeline tbh. Poseidon could have been like a Steve Irwin type with a sea-life tv show. Zeus could have been a fantasy version of a Prime Minister. Hera could be a socialite. Apollo could have been the leader of a band (the muses are his background sisters/musicians), i could go on. LO just went "uh, they all have vague businesses and cell phones" and that's it. Oh also they video tapes, you know a thing no one has used since 1997.

4. I just remembered that in a chapter when Hades and Persephone were talking, Hades told her how she seemed sad at the olympus party? And it doesn’t really make sense bc why would she be sad? She got the freedom she wanted, she’s going to a party without her overbearing mother, she’s with a friend? And since she’s so friendly and bubbly wouldn’t she be able to make friends straight away? She knew Artemis, Hera and i’m guessing Hestia and Athena must have been there as well. Was it so hard for her to just move around and see who she knew? And then we have creepy Hades who is like “you seemed sad, like me, at that party 🥰🥰” like??? Just bc you are sad and don’t like your life why the hell do you think other people are too?

5. I don’t understand why every sheltered character (usually if not always female) is always like “uwu I’m innocent and don’t know about the bad things in the world! I act shy at first but in reality I’m open and extroverted!” I mean some people who were sheltered are like that and and there’s nothing wrong with it but it’s never deconstructed or seen as creepy in stories like LO (i.e. naive young person x powerful older person power imbalance) why can’t we have a “I struggle to properly communicate informally with people my age and it affects me deeply, I’m cold and distant but I feel lonely at the same time, I’m outcasted for my interests because I‘ve been closed off from the world” type? A story about them developing relationships and getting some character development whilst still being introverted would be interesting, but I guess when you have female characters like that they can’t be sympathetic /s

6. I think Rachel shot herself in the foot when it comes to Persephone's act of wrath and the stans are basically fixing her mistake in their mind. If stans really wanted to pull the "she's a god, gods just do those kinds of things nbd"-card, Rachel should've actually made it no big deal. Instead, she put in place that gods cannot just kill mortals willy-nilly. Eros was going to be reprimanded for his Heartbreak Act of Wrath, but basically got saved by Zeus' General Horniness because, well... Zeus I guess? 🤷‍♀️ But the rules are there. If it's not okay for Eros, why would it be okay for Persephone? I low-key hate that I'm agreeing with Zeus the hypocrite here, but he is right: Hades (and the stans) are biased.

7. I'm only partially sarcastic when I say that I am low-key jealous of Rachel. I don't think I would be getting away with such an inconsistent art style- and I do mean in every way possible, she literally admitted on Twitter and I quote: "my drawing style is inconsistent, but I think that's part of the charm? Being flexible is what allows me to stay engaged with projects I've been doing for years now".

Don't get me wrong, there's an art style improving over time, heck there is a creator realizing a certain art style just doesn't work well on the long run and -TELLING THEIR FANS- it will change from the pilot chapter on, but then there's.... whatever Rachel is doing. Seeing how much the crew of Steven Universe got shat on for having inconsistencies while two animation studios were working on it just makes me wonder why Rachel doesn't seem to get that bs from her stans. At least Steven Universe has character sheets....

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lo critical #lore olympus critical #anti lo art

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backseatsiren · 3 years

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A Dramatic Day

It’s been awhile since I’ve written here! There are a couple of reasons: first, my life has reached brave new heights of busy - I was promoted to Editor in Chief at work a bit over a year ago, and my responsibilities there obviously take a lot of time. I’m also teaching more courses than usual at Berklee (right now, one section of Film and TV and two of Game Design Principles), and, as usual, I’m training grappling on top of it all. Plus, naturally, the ambulance. I’m hitting my tour hours, and proud to do it, and as pumped as ever to be an EMT in this neighborhood.

I’m also... very, very, VERY slowly *actually writing a book* about all of this. I’ve begun interviewing a few fellow EMTs, mainly volunteers, about what it is we do. Because of how insane my schedule is, it’ll be a very long term project, and I can’t put any pressure to finish soon. But, especially through the pandemic, I’ve felt a desire to document and interview and report on the idea of volunteer emergency medical services in New York City, here in Brooklyn and Queens, and I think other folks might be interested in reading a bit about it.

But I’d like to get back into the practice of writing about calls and concepts and experiences. As always, I’ll respect patients and patient privacy, and will never reveal identifying information or anything inappropriate.

Today was a fairly busy day, but it started with a bit of a dramatic call. We were called to an unknown, and flagged down by a bystander. A man called us over and told us that he saw a man lying on the train tracks (a less-used track, not the subway or commuter rail or anything). He said he regularly feeds a colony of feral cats there, and noticed the gentleman lying down the way.

We thanked him and high tailed it over, yelling out to him (the usual “sir are you ok?”). My more experienced (many, many years in EMS, including at a much higher level of certification) partner took a look at him and said “he might be dead” and began looking forward a pulse. He went for more help (another ambulance was arriving and they needed to be directed over, the physical layout of the space was weird), and he instructed me to look for a pulse. I did, and found nothing. My other partner (a newer EMT, just cleared for CC status, who I also love working with), said “he’s cold to the touch.”

It was raining lightly. The tracks were a little slick, and there was some litter. It’s early may, and the grass had that beautiful sheen on it, that it gets in the rain. Weird things, visual and sense memory things, are coming back as I write about it.

He was lying down on his face on the tracks. I checked for a carotid pulse again and felt nothing. I checked his hands - they were closed and held tight. Rigor Mortis. I checked his arms, his coat, his clothing, careful not to mess with anything, but looking for lividity. He was bleeding from his face, and, on inspection, his face was very clearly badly injured, bruised, and bloated. I was wearing an N95, but even so, you could smell that he was deceased.

I told my more experienced partner that when he arrived with the other crew. We inspected the scene - noting a shovel and some other tools. There was a little encampment nearby - possibly where this man lived. Beer and food in a little shelter.

It certainly looked like foul play was possible. I learned a few minutes later (on my next call) that the cops did start an investigation there.

As one of the other EMTs from the other crew noted, it was “like a movie scene.” Something about the rain and the light, the way the blood pooled, the way the ants crawled around in it... was surreal. It may have been my less experienced partner’s first DOA when they were first on the scene (it wasn’t mine, but it was certainly the first *outdoor* DOA where I’ve been first and had to help establish that). It was my first suspected murder scene.

And yes, it was deeply sad. There’s some initial adrenaline, for me, in every call. There would be more on my other calls today. There is a voice in my head that repeats a lot of the basic instructions and goes through scenarios: “ABCs” (a note to always prioritize airway, breathing, and circulation). I think about what happened in any given situation and what I should do for my patient. I look for threats to everyone’s safety. And when I can breathe and get a clearer picture of what’s going on, that’s when I can start to process things a bit.

We covered him with a clean sheet from the ambulance and did all the things we needed to do. We talked about it a little, after the call. But I always need to think about things for a few hours after, which is what I’m doing here, by writing about it a bit.

I’m a deeply, empathetic person. I feel for my patients. The call I’m about to talk about - the very next call - required that of me in a different way. But in this scenario, I want to first do everything right for the person and situation, and next, be as respectful as humanly possible. This poor man died - was very probably killed - and was left outside in the rain. I don’t know much about his life, and very little about his death. The whole scenario is very sad, and very surreal.

Every time I’ve had a dead patient, it’s stuck with me. I don’t think I’ll ever forget my first, a woman who very probably died of a heart attack or in her sleep, and her son found her. He was mourning. He was on top of the body, hugging her, crying “I’m sorry, mommy,” and there’s... I guess there’s nothing on earth like that. Nothing like that kind of pain. People, as a rule, do not expect to see their loved ones deceased, and when we do, we usually have a ceremony for it.

I’m just a bystander to that. I can do nothing to help the deceased person, and very little for a mourning loved one, besides being a respectful, empathetic human presence. For my deceased patient today, all we could do was establish that he was dead and do the proper things to ensure his remains would be taken care of (and his death investigated).

My next call was very different, but it was heavy in a different way. We got a call for, basically, a suicidal young woman. We arrived, with PD, to her door. The officers assessed things to an extent, but she revealed that she had been traumatized by police in the recent past, and didn’t want any police in her home. I talked with her calmly, and was able to relieve the cops and take this one, with my partner.

We listened to her. She had obviously been through some extreme trauma and needed mental health resources. I won’t reveal any details here, but I had to keep assuring her that I had no handcuffs and wasn’t interested in taking her against her will. She was terrified of being taken somewhere she didn’t want to go, and I basically sat calmly with her and talked to her about her options. Just talking. Just listening.

This is a case, like a patient a couple of years ago, where I’m very happy to take my time. I’m a volunteer, man. I’m not grinding through a shift for miserable pay, as most EMTs are - I’m here because I frankly want to be useful in this manner.

And I’m happy to sit with a person going through emotional hell, because this is what I can help with. I’m five years into being an EMT with RVAC. I do this 2-3 shifts per month, so I’ll never be the fastest, best, EMT in NYC. But I can be the most patient EMT, and I can give plenty of extra time to a person.

I’m not a therapist, and I don’t pretend to be. That’s what I told her - first, that I’m not a cop, I don’t have cuffs, I have no interest in taking her if she’s of sound mind and doesn’t want to go. Then, second, that I’m no doctor, and no therapist, and that I want her to have resources if she needs them.

We talked more, and did more vitals, and she decided she wanted to come to a mental health facility. We explained every step of the process to her, and what she could expect, and what to bring.

Do I wish I was an actual therapist who could help this girl right away? Yeah. Do I wish I had the ability to make mental health policy that provides good, effective, supportive therapy to all human beings who need it? Yeah. Do I wish I could do better for her than an ER with psych specialists? Where she could easily get lost in the cracks or simply never connect with what she truly needs? Yeah.

I can only take her to a place where people are at least trained to assess her and offer her further resources. I can only hope they actually can help, and do so.

I had another call where we did a bit of *psychological first aid* not long after that. A dramatic scene! A young woman fainted at work at a store, and several people were surrounding her and holding her at the scene! Folks were holding her hands and crying.

It looked wild at first glance, but our patient was completely ok - we got her out, had medics assess her completely, and brought her to the ER while assuring her parents that things looked ok. Her mother was extremely upset, and we had a bit of a language barrier, but we were able to assure her and let her know things looked ok, that her child had very promising vitals and EKG readings, and we just needed the ER visit to make sure.

The medics helping us out were INCREDIBLE. They offered a full walkthrough for us of what was going on physiologically with her and gave a very helpful tip on scenes like that - give bystanders little jobs (just simple stuff, like holding the door, or looking for something like a towel) to do! It helps (caring, kind, just want to help) folks feel helpful when they get scared, especially in dramatic-looking situations.

A lot of drama today. A lot of learning. I felt really good about taking charge with my psych patient and helping her to feel safe and able to make her own decision. Im glad we were able to help our young fainting patient. And as much as it’s heavy, I’m glad I was at least on scene today for our first call. I know I can do nothing but confirm obvious death, but, I take some heart in the kind bystander who called for him (the gentleman who feeds cats nearby).

At least someone cared enough to try.

I’m forever grateful for my partners, for the folks who have taken the time to teach me (back when I was VERY green and still, to this day, as I am learning every single shift), and for the patients who trust me to do my best for them.

I noticed today, this month marks five years of doing this, with my volunteer corps. I can only hope I learn more and become a more effective EMT as I go.

#volunteer ems #ems #nyc

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deeryloo · 3 years

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this was supposed to be a more general post that looks at the similarities between xxxholic and supernatural overall, and while I still want to do that, honestly the only thing I can focus on today is the overlap between watanuki and dean, so that’s what we’re getting instead.

i wanna talk about how the tragedy of dean winchester is that he spends 15 years stretching, like a rubber band, closer and closer to a realized sense of self, to then be repeatedly snapped back to his shitty self-esteem by the exterior forces on the show telling him (directly or otherwise) that he doesn’t deserve better. and that even after dean breaks completely free of his binds and starts to envision a life for solely just himself, he is left to die on a rusty nail and ultimately does not get to experience anything of that dream life of his own.

and i wanna talk too about how watanuki spends the first half of his journey learning to see his own value, to respect the ways he impacts others, and to actually begin forming meaningful relationships with the people who care about him, only to ultimately sequester himself into a shop he can’t leave for the rest of eternity while the people he loves grow up and leave or die or marry each other so they can keep having kids for the specific purpose of giving watanuki company, so he, too, gets to experience nothing of a life of his own.

like, it’s their shared endings that do me in. maybe they don’t seem the same on the surface (dean dies and goes to heaven, watanuki lives forever in a multidimensional shop he can’t leave), but i feel like narratively the consequences are the same. the damage to viewers looking for a cathartic release is the same. because dean dying and going to a place where nothing changes, he owns nothing, he works for nothing, means the growth he’s allowed as a character has ended. dean died never knowing what it meant to live for himself. he died never knowing how sweet true freedom--from john, from michael, from amara, from chuck, whoever--could be. and, honestly, i think you could say the same for watanuki.

i really feel like yuuko wanted something else for watanuki. yuuko does everything she can to help him understand that his life has meaning and value beyond his own understanding of himself. she tries to get it through his head that acting like he doesn’t matter, sacrificing himself willy nilly--that hurts people. his actions don’t affect just himself. and despite yuuko (and others! the joro gumo, doumeki, SYAORAN to name a few) spending so much time on this with watanuki, watanuki just doesn’t get it. or he does, but decides not to accept it. and because watanuki is stopped in time, trapped in that shop by the series’ end, the growth he’s allowed as a character ends, too. he literally stops living for himself, instead living only for the faint wish yuuko might come back. and it’s terrible.

there’s just this sense of lessons not really learned for both of them. dean dances for over a decade with the idea that he deserves to die, even if his deepest wish is to live. he toys with the idea of change, the idea of growth. and of course, he gets it to an extent. but the story never lets him really go for it. he’s given moments that indicate he’s ready for something more than hunting, something more than bloody death, but in the end he dies in a random accident and insisting this was always it for him. so what was dean’s true takeaway as a character? for audiences? did he ever really think he deserved something more?

and for watanuki, I ask the same. so much of watanuki’s arc is about learning the power of kindness and love when offered to those who otherwise don’t receive it, including HIMSELF. he is told over and over again, and seems to believe himself, that he can no longer make choices for other people on their behalf, nor can he try and undo what others do on his behalf. but I really feel the hope is that in teaching this to watanuki, in teaching the power of his own actions for better and worse, that he will make the kind of choices that aren’t needlessly self-sacrificial, because the damage of those self-sacrificial choices is almost always greater than the benefit. so what are we to make of watanuki’s final choice to stay in the shop? “don’t vanish!” says syaoran, but watanuki does exactly that. he literally removes himself from the world, takes on yuuko’s mannerisms and dress, and quits engaging with anyone who isn’t doumeki and kohane. what is our takeaway then? what does watanuki learn about loving himself when he so easily denies himself a future for the sake a dead woman who is never, canon suggests, coming back?

there’s just such a gut wrenching softness to dean and watanuki. such a sense of perseverance in the face of loss and misfortune that drives me up the wall. and there’s such a clear love for each of them from the people around them, too. we’re all a little in love with Dean Winchester. we’re all a little in love with watanuki kimihiro. I keep thinking of Castiel’s words to dean in “despair.” about how he does everything for love, everyone knows it. and I see in my mind doumeki telling kohane about his secret promise to never let watanuki die alone, like that kitten he held by the river in the rain. just as cas and sam and garth and crowley and so many others are dedicated to dean, so are kohane and himawari and yuuko and doumeki dedicated to watanuki. the loyalty both these men inspire from us readers as well as other characters, because of the goodness of their hearts...it kills me that neither of them get to really see it for themselves. how loved they really are. they catch glimpses, but neither gets a life in which that love can really be lived in. it’s just another layer of tragedy they both carry. dean deserved better. watanuki deserved better.

I could talk about a lot more, and maybe I will later, idk. the wider themes between the two texts, the parallels between castiel and doumeki, the ideas of hitsuzen and fate. but for now I guess I'll stop here. just looking at dean and watanuki is enough pain for one evening, I'd say.

#I hope this made sense #supernatural #xxxholic #dean winchester #watanuki kimihiro #my thoughts

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archivistsammy · 3 years

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i’ve been thinking a lot about what makes a character tragic. what makes their story sad. like, supremely, miserably, bone-achingly sad. and, okay, when i say i’ve been thinking a lot about what makes a character tragic, what i really mean is i’ve been thinking a lot about dean winchester and watanuki kimihiro. im rewatching supernatural with one friend, and im rereading xxxholic with another, and the experience is wild because all my wires are crossing in my brain, because dean and watanuki punch me in the gut in the exact same offensively upsetting way, and i really wanna talk about it. this was supposed to be a more general post that looks at the similarities between xxxholic and supernatural overall, and while I still want to do that, honestly the only thing I can focus on today is the overlap between watanuki and dean, so that’s what we’re getting instead.

it’s their shared endings that do me in. maybe they don’t seem the same on the surface (dean dies and goes to heaven, watanuki lives forever in a multidimensional shop he can’t leave), but i feel like narratively the consequences are the same. the damage to viewers looking for a cathartic release is the same. because dean dying and going to a place where nothing changes means the growth he’s allowed as a character has ended. dean died never knowing what it meant to live for himself. he died never knowing how sweet true freedom–from john, from michael, from amara, from chuck, whoever–could be. and, honestly, i think you could say the same for watanuki.

i really feel like yuuko wanted something else for watanuki. yuuko does everything she can to help him understand that his life has meaning and value beyond his own understanding of himself. she tries to get it through his head that acting like he doesn’t matter, sacrificing himself willy nilly–that hurts people. his actions don’t affect just himself. and of course he can make his own choices, but he can’t do so pretending those choices won’t have consequences for others, too. and despite yuuko (and others! the joro gumo, doumeki, SYAORAN to name a few) spending so much time on this with watanuki, watanuki just doesn’t get it. or he does, but decides not to accept it. and because watanuki is stopped in time, trapped in that shop by the series’ end, the growth he’s allowed as a character ends, too. he literally stops living for himself, instead living only for the faint wish yuuko might come back. and it’s terrible.

and for watanuki, I ask the same. so much of watanuki’s arc is about learning the power of love when offered to those who otherwise don’t receive it, including HIMSELF. he is told over and over again, and seems to believe himself, that he can no longer make choices for other people on their behalf, nor can he try and undo what others do on his behalf. but I really feel the hope is that in teaching this to watanuki, in teaching the power of his own actions for better and worse, that he will make the kind of choices that aren’t needlessly self-sacrificial, because the damage of those self-sacrificial choices is almost always greater than the benefit.

so what are we to make of watanuki’s final choice to stay in the shop? “don’t vanish!” says syaoran, but watanuki does exactly that. he literally removes himself from the world, takes on yuuko’s mannerisms and dress, and quits engaging with anyone who isn’t doumeki and kohane. what is our takeaway then? what does watanuki learn about loving himself when he so easily denies himself a future for the sake a dead woman who is never, canon suggests, coming back?

there’s just such a gut wrenching softness to dean and watanuki. such a sense of perseverance in the face of loss and misfortune that drives me up the wall. and there’s such a clear love for each of them from the people around them, too. we’re all a little in love with dean winchester. we’re all a little in love with watanuki kimihiro. I keep thinking of castiel’s words to dean in “despair.” about how he does everything for love, everyone knows it. and I see in my mind doumeki telling kohane about his quiet commitment to never let watanuki die alone, like that kitten he held by the river in the rain. just as cas and sam and garth and crowley and so many others are dedicated to dean, so are kohane and himawari and yuuko and doumeki dedicated to watanuki. the loyalty both these men inspire from us readers as well as other characters, because of the goodness of their hearts…it kills me that neither of them get to really see it for themselves. how loved they really are. they catch glimpses, but neither gets a life in which that love can really be lived in. it’s just another layer of tragedy they both carry. dean deserved better. watanuki deserved better.

I could talk about a lot more, and maybe I will later, idk. the wider themes between the two texts, the parallels between castiel and doumeki, the ideas of hitsuzen and fate. but for now I guess I’ll stop here. just looking at dean and watanuki is enough pain for one evening, I’d say.

#supernatural #xxxholic #dean winchester #watanuki kimihiro #holicnatural #our meta #this is SO NICHE but its like where i (amina) live so we all have to deal with it

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vinylsora · 3 years

Text

Everythingoes.

the clock ticks reminding life goes on

ceiling with fan that rotates shows motion

while i sit here motionless

eyes holding all the emotions of my heart

heart holding all the pain from this world

and this emotion escapes my eyes

though not with permission but it escapes

unlike me.

yeah i can hear my heartbeat

it pounds almost screaming to me

but im glad, for it beats.

cheeks stained in tears

tears, that were the emotion i always hide

"you're going to be fine" pops on my screen

i wish for it to be true in my head

everything goes. but sadness doesn't.

having made my life as its residence.

its the 'always with you' partner;

though one might never ask for this one.

we oft think, we've grown out of that 'phase'

but fate turns the path of life into a maze.

no one knows when sadness decides to gamble

though the outcome sure is known to all

it turns us all in a state of shamble.

one never stops taking steps,

until they find themselves standing on the edge

'the cliff of life' ; metaphorical enough?

cloud rumbled as i type this writing

and i reminisce one fine afternoon of childhood.

"what's your favourite colour?" its blue.

my portrait of life is surely painted in that hue.

blue: 'a colour of wisdom' was what i had thought

now it reminds me of hopelessness.

people often wish to go back in time,

alas! my ill-fate, i wouldn't want to go back to mine!

grey cloud rumbles as loud as they can get.

and i still try writing all thats inside my head.

the rain has come here finally to greet;

or to wash away sorrow that deceits.

it pours heavily as tears in my eyes dry out,

looks like the clouds too want to cry out.

never had the rain made me sad earlier,

but today seems peculiar!

its all grey, gloomy and dismal;

adding up to the grey 'monotone' of my day

its 'monotonous' i must say.

"is this how people perceive me?" i wonder

the grey overcast looks deplorable,

ironically presenting a reflection of me.

there was no glass mirror between us,

yet both of our reflections looked horrible.

everything still goes on and on

but was i going? such a mystery.

with that question, a pain spread in my chest.

as if i could no longer feel that thing in chest beat.

the already miserable condition worsened

the trauma of past in the inward eye

blurring my visions: was it rain or tear?

none could make that out my dear.

for this visage was a better mask than Erik's.

if this is a war then i won't win,

who could fight with mental thoughts?

they had no spades and arrows

yet they have the capacity to pierce the heart apart.

conflict with self; a very troublesome state.

which never results in win or loss,

but indeed ends with either love or hate.

clouds grumbles as if agreeing to me

and i shrug it off with a melancholic sigh

theres a burning sensation in my eye

theyre mirrors of my heart

reflecting all thats buried deep inside

cried alot but the grief still not emptied,

i felt hollow within even with grief filled in me.

i wipe off these traitors that always escape.

for none would be aware, here in my space

i summon slumber, but my head is cluttered

cluttered with thoughts or totally blank?

"can a heart still break even when it stopped beating?"

but i could not answer to that.

cries can become a full stop to many questions.

just that way i put a full stop to my question,

and mourned for my heart that felt numb and dead.

my heart died several times,

but like a glorious death of a phoenix,

arising from the fragments of memories:

which were my ashes, rebuilding onto its rebirth.

"everything goes. but sadness doesn't

having made my life as its residence."

became a wantwit because of melancholy;

so gloomy that i feel aweary understanding me.

its not something new to feel,

the next day might bring me joy?

that was all i could say for myself to heal.

– may.

#poem #solitude #sad thoughts #poetry #poets on tumblr #poets corner #rainyday #anxitey #anxious #Spotify

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rustyparker · 3 years

Note

Relationship building - All of "em for Sofia ;)

Send ⭐️ (or multiple) for a headcanon about our muses.

I have a headcanon where she chooses the titles for all of his songs.

Send ☎ for your muse’s info in my muses phone (name, ringtone, picture, last text received/sent).

Name: Wifey 😍 Ringtone: In Your Eyes - The Weeknd Picture:

Last texts sent: 'hey tiny you left your underwear in my room...im keeping it’

Send 🎼 for a song that reminds me of our muses.

Save Your Tears - The Weeknd (YES it’s another Weeknd song he just has a LOT of songs that fit them ok)

Send 👋 for three things that describe our muses relationship.

Having bad parents, tons of sex, endless drama.

Send 👂 to overhear my muse talking about yours.

“I think she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me man, like I feel high when I’m with her. Well...I mean I’m high, but it’s not just the drugs, y’know? It’s her.”

Send 😍 for my muse to tell yours three things they love about them.

“Her face, her boobs and her ass. I mean...have you seen her? Oh, you’re talking personality wise...she’s got a lot of that, yeah. She’s a sweet girl, y’know. Will do anything for people. She’s like the opposite of selfish. Very cute too, when she smiles. She has a cute laugh, I love that. And she’s a good mother, prolly the best mom I’ve seen. And- man shut up, I’m not finished! Fuck your three thing rule! She makes bomb ass pancakes, and she’s got good taste in music. She can dance, she’s a great teacher...” *rambles on for about an hour while the interviewer quietly regrets asking the question*

Send 💤 for my muse to say something about yours in their sleep.

“C’mon baby...just lemme videotape it...I won’t show nobody...I just wanna look at it later...”

Send 📖 for my muse to read out an entry in their journal/diary about yours.

I don’t like journals but the therapist at the rehab center told me it was good to keep track of my thoughts, thanks Larry, you fucking clown, what if I got nothin to write about?

I guess I do have one thing to write about, my girlfriend still doesn’t wanna come visit and it sucks, I hate that I did this to her, and I hate that if somebody handed me a pipe right now, I’d prolly do it again. That’s why I’m in here, even tho we’re about to have a baby, I can’t stop hurting her or myself, it’s like something takes over me, feels like there’s somethin wrong with my brain.

Her aunt does visit me and she said that Sof loves me too much and that’s why she can’t come. That is some bullshit!! How you gonna say you love me but you can’t come see me?? She’s pregnant now too, so I know she needs me to be there, I think she’s doing this to punish me, it’s working I guess, I’m pretty fuckin miserable.

Send ✉ for a written letter from my muse.

Hey tiny,

My therapist said to write you a letter but I should let him read it before I send it to you. I want to say I’m sorry for getting so angry when you left the facilite facility, I shouldn’t have cussed at you and stuff, I was in a dark place and I took it out on you, but I’m doing a lot better but I’m working on things now and they’re helping me with my anger issues and stuff my addiction. I hate being in here I wanna come home to you and do better, for the baby, to not use drugs as much not use drugs at all anymore to get sober. You should come I want you to come I would love if you came to visit, will you think about it?? And maybe answer the phone, you don’t even have to talk if you don’t want, I will just talk to you and the baby. Miss you both

- Russ

Send📱for a voicemail my muse left yours.

“Are you fucking serious? Voicemail again, really Sofia? Fuck you, you know. I’m trying here. You can take a fucking phone call. You think I’m gonna get better with you ignoring me? It’s been three weeks since we talked, I got shit to say! You don’t even wanna talk to me?! You just gonna ignore me the whole time I’m here?!”

Send 🌀 for my muse’s reaction to getting stuck in a storm with yours.

*covers her from the rain with his body because he has no umbrella*

Send 🍺 for my muses drunk reaction around yours.

“Baby...you’re the most hottest babe I’ve ever seen...and I wanna look at you for hours. Matter a’fact, c’mere-” He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling his scantily clad girlfriend into his lap. “I wanna touch you for hours too”, he husked in her ear, running both of his large hands down her breasts and untying the little knot that was holding the front of her blouse together.

Send 💰 for your muse to ask mine for money.

Pre-fame Russ: “Sorry babe, I’m broke too.”

Post-fame Russ: “Sure, here’s $1000.”

Send ✔️ for a daydream my muse has had about/involving yours.

After struggling to come up with a chorus for his latest song for about an hour, Russ finally put aside his guitar out of frustration. Seeing no other solution than to take a break, he lit up a blunt and leaned back comfortably on the sunken couch in his apartment. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself drift away into daytime fantasies. Fantasies of a big, shiny stage with red curtains. He was usually the one up there, but tonight he was watching the show. As the curtains rose, Sofia entered the stage like a true star, clad in a shiny, glittering outfit that showed off every delicious curve on her body. She exuded confidence as she strutted across the stage, perhaps more confidence than even the real Sofia possessed, and he could not take his eyes off this electrifying version of her. As she did her flawless dance routine, clothes were magically flying off her body and she was left wearing nothing but a pair of red high heels. The spotlight followed her every move as she descended the steps from the podium and entered the crowd of one. It was just him, the show was for his eyes only. Just as she was about to finish her routine by giving him a lapdance, his daydream was interrupted by his phone buzzing. “Goddammit”, he cursed under his breath as his eyes shot open and he was back in his room. Back in reality.

Send 👀 for my muse to compliment yours

“Sof, babe, you’re really skinny.”

Send 💋 for how my muse would seduce/flirt with yours.

Give her lots of attention, mostly. He knows she likes that the most. Gifts too, and songs, but most importantly attention.

Send 😙 for my muse’s reaction to yours being super affectionate.

Depends on which time. In the beginning it doesn’t make sense to him, but then when they’re dating and further along in the relationship, it feels more natural and enjoyable.

Send 🍵 and my muse will reveal one of their biggest regrets involving yours.

“Lying. I lied a lot to her, I guess. I regret that, yeah.”

Send 😶 and my muse will confess to something they wish they didn’t do that affected your muse.

“I guess I cheated on her. I mean...I barely remember it ‘cause I was fucked up, but...I guess she was real sad about that. So...yeah, if I could take it back I would do it.”

#pomeqraniqht #headcanon #meme

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derireo · 4 years

Text

sylvain - a little help

im being pressured to apply for scholarships ,,, didn’t want to go to post secondary in the first place .. + ive been napping a lot during the day. not good.

sylvain x f!byleth

“ it was difficult. even though her heart didn't beat, it was still heavy with grief and loss. she couldn't bear to remember the people she had killed to get to this point with her comrades, but images of caspar's face as he accepted the fatal strike of her sword and the tears that fell from dorothea's eyes as she thanked byleth for being the last person she saw – it was all too much. it wasn't supposed to be like this. “

It was a rainy day in Garreg Mach as fat water droplets pounded against the windows of the dorms and the monastery. The sky was gloomy with splotches of black and grey, and the angry pitter patter of rain against the pavement was deafening to the ears.

As much as Byleth loved the rain, her mood tonight definitely matched the weather.

There was a storm brewing in her head. From her father dying and fighting in a war against her former students, only to wake up 5 years later, frozen cold from the river she was pulled out of, it was difficult for Byleth to cope with all the things that had happened when almost everybody already found the strength to move on.

She willingly became the commander for the Church of Seiros, to fight for the liberation of the people who were caught in the tyranny of Edelgard; a former student that Byleth was fond of back then. Byleth found herself re-thinking her choices up until now, as the Church of Seiros neared the end of this war.

It was difficult. even though her heart didn't beat, it was still heavy with grief and loss. She couldn't bear to remember the people she had killed to get to this point with her comrades, but images of Caspar's face as he accepted the fatal strike of her sword and the tears that fell from Dorothea's eyes as she thanked Byleth for being the last person she saw – it was all too much. it wasn't supposed to be like this.

And Byleth loathed the thought of having to face Edelgard; hated the thought that her former student wouldn't accept the compromise of ending this war peacefully as Dimitri had suggested. Byleth didn't want to kill another one of her friends.

But it's impossible to change fate, just as it is impossible to create a new path that lets everyone live.

Byleth was sitting outside on the pavement, under the roof truss. She was wrapped in the duvet that used to lay on her bed and she had her knees hugged to her chest as she stared at the rain drops that splattered into puddles.

Looking at the weather, everyone unanimously decided to use this day as a break from preparing for battle, so many people were gathered in the dining hall or were cooped up in another warm area, so it was understandable why Byleth wasn't seen roaming around the monastery grounds.

Byleth didn't feel like doing anything anyways.

She let out a deep breath of air from her lungs and rested her chin on her knees, her mouth formed into a lazy pout as she stared into nothing, the loud crashing of rain becoming white noise to her.

She didn't notice the few people who were quietly approaching her while she let the soft duvet fall from her shoulders. She then stood up from her sitting position, and as if on autopilot, walked out from under the truss and into the pelting rain that immediately left her body and clothes soaking wet.

She sighed again and closed her eyes, tilting her head back to bask in the rainstorm that fell from the heavens. Byleth couldn't remember clearly, but remembered that on the day of Jeralt's passing, it was raining like this as well.

But then again, she couldn't remember many things.

It could be her imagination, but the sight of dark crimson flowing through the cracks of her fingers and staining her clothes was much too vivid for her to forget.

The growing stain of blood that dirtied her father's coat was something she could never remove from her memory.

She would never be able to forget having to watch her father be stabbed through the back twice. Once when it initially happened, and twice when she turned back time with the divine pulse Sothis had gifted her

How could she forget anyways?

The rain continued to beat down on Byleth, but the pain wasn't enough to distract her from her thoughts. Her bare feet was wet with mud, thin clothes clinging to scarred skin, and mint green hair stuck to her forehead.

"You're going to get sick if you stay like that." someone called out from the walkway of the dorms with a voice so soft that Byleth couldn't help but turn her head in their direction. Her nose twitched when she noticed that it was Sylvain speaking to her. The man was leaning against the pillar nearest to her room door with his arms crossed, and the clothes he was wearing was suited for the winter in Faerghus.

Good enough for Garreg Mach weather, Byleth mused to herself and ignored the way the redhead looked at her expectantly; waiting for her to come back and stand under the shelter with him.

Sylvain sighed, "It wouldn't do you any good if you caught the flu." he tried once more, and held his hand out with the palm facing up as he patiently waited for Byleth to make a move. as much as he hated to force people to do things they didn't want to, he couldn't bear to let his friend stay miserable in the rain like that.

But Byleth didn't look miserable. She seemed the slightest bit distraught, but she looked so comfortable in the rain. Her clothes were now heavy with water, and her hair clung to her face and neck, and although it should've been uncomfortable for her to be in this state, she was receiving the rain with open arms.

Before Byleth could even realize it, Sylvain was already in her personal space, out with her in the pouring rain as he smiled down at her. "Gonna have to tell Seteth to scold you for still being a terrible listener." Sylvain joked as the rain began to beat down on him as well, but paid it no mind, and removed his warm Faerghus coat to put over Byleth's head. The rain only seemed to worsen, not that either person minded, but quietly, Byleth fretted for Sylvain's own health.

His teal button up was already clinging onto him like a second skin while his slicked back hair was a sad, flat mess atop his head. That stupidly kind smile was still on his face too and Byleth couldn't help but feel sorry for making him reach out to her like this in the rain.

Silently, her frigid hand went out to reach for his own, and she dragged the both of them out of the squelching mud and rain to under the roof. Her unoccupied hand still held onto the coat that was laid atop her head, and she decided to keep it there while she watched Sylvain shake the water from his hair.

As always, her eyes held no hint of emotion while owlishly blinking at the man before turning around, heading down the hallway. Sylvain had slicked his hair back while she turned, and with a hop to his step, followed after her when his hand fell from her grip.

"As much as I love the rain," she started when they continued to walk towards the dining hall, the roof above them ending and the raindrops replacing them again, "I can't let you guys get sick. It's hard for me to take care of the Knights of Seiros as it is." she mused, Sylvain striding beside her casually with his hands in his pockets, the rain dampening his hair again.

They walked up the cobblestone steps that led up to the dining hall and quietly shuffled in, the sound of Byleth's wet footsteps apparent in the warm room while the squelching of Sylvain's boots had people turning their heads.

"Oh dear." Mercedes gasped when she saw the pair, "Byleth! Sylvain! What were you two doing out in the rain?" she scolded halfheartedly and stood up from her seat beside Annette who was busy slurping at her soup.

Byleth was sheepish when the gremory walked up to her and wiped away the water that was dripping from her face, her eyebrows furrowed in worry. A few of the others took a quick glance at the small commotion while some had taken the initiative and handed dinner towels to both Byleth and Sylvain for them to dry off. Not the most ideal fabric, but it was definitely better than nothing.

"Just chilling." Byleth answered casually while struggling to shove her hands into wet pockets.

Sylvain couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Yeah. Literally just chilling." he mused and grabbed the dinner towel that lay neglected in Byleth's hands, immediately plopping it on the top of her head to manually dry her hair. Although it was a casual thing for Sylvain to do for his friends; taking care of them even when they don't think much of it, the red head couldn't help but stare down at Byleth with a loving fondness in his eyes. With the way she looked up at him with her own curious gaze from below the towel and the hair that stay stuck to her face; he couldn't prevent the erratic beating of his heart.

Mercedes sighed as Byleth and Sylvain continued to drip rain water onto the floorboards, and kindly asked a passing soldier to go fetch some more towels along with Annette.

"I'll go and get her some Onion Gratin Soup," the pale haired woman offered to the dark knight who was still messing around with Byleth's hair, "It'll warm her up, no doubt. Would you like anything, Sylvain?" Mercedes smiled kindly when the man averted his gaze from the former mercenary to her, his hands moving around to lift the soaked mint hair from Byleth's neck to dry the wet strands at her nape.

"Cheesy Verona Stew. Thanks, Mercie." he winked out of habit, causing Mercedes to let out an uncharacteristic gag from the back of her throat before briefly turning around to fetch the food that would help Byleth and Sylvain to warm up.

"Hey, hey!" Annette bounced into the dining hall with towels in her arms and headed straight for the pair. "I've got towels and clothes for you guys! One of the students told me you two came in soaking wet and so I took it upon myself to help out." she declared and happily handed Sylvain and Byleth a fluffier, much larger towel as well as some warm clothes for them to change into.

Byleth pursed her lips once the folded clothes were set in her arms, and she looked under the mock turtleneck to see that Annette had done a little snooping in her room. A fresh pair of underwear was hiding underneath the shirt she was given.

She raised her eyebrows at Annette, silently asking for the explanation.

The little gremory trembled at the blank stare, but she still answered, "Well, the soldier was male and.. well – ugh! look, it's important that it was me who decided to help." she grumbled childishly, "Can't really up and ask Dedue to go and retrieve those scandalous things you call underwear, Byleth!" Annette whispered with wide eyes.

Sylvain whistled to himself, earning an elbow to the gut by Byleth.

Annette wasn't a very good whisperer.

"And how did you go there and back without getting wet?" Byleth inquired, already knowing the answer when she saw Lysithea at a nearby table, eyeing the three curiously. "Nevermind."

"Ferdinand helped with getting Sylvain's clothing " Annette added on hastily when she noticed the redhead check his own folded clothes.

"Carrot Top, huh?" Sylvain chuckled to himself, to which Byleth snickered and smacked the back of his head. "You don't get to say that."

"Aw," Sylvain pouted, rubbing the spot where he got hit. "You can't be saying that I am also a carrot top?"

"I am." she smiled slightly and tilted her head to the side as Sylvain began to dry his own wet hair with the new towel he just received, his skin clinging button up making it difficult for him to raise his arms comfortably.

Silently, Byleth let her gaze roam over the length of Sylvain's rain drenched body before consciously hugging her clothes and towel to her chest to help her snap out of it. "I'm going to go change." she announced and started to head towards the exit of the dinner hall, with Sylvain immediately trailing behind her after he said his thank yous and goodbyes to Annette.

Sylvain peeked over Byleth's shoulder to take a look at what clothes Annette picked for her and hummed, prying apart a few buttons from his shirt in an attempt to get the fabric to stop sticking to his skin. "Wanna show me the scandalous things Annette was talking about earlier?" he offered playfully and bumped his arm into Byleth's to tease her, his grin lazy when the mint haired woman only scoffed and shook her head.

"In your dreams, kiddo." she fired back and pushed Sylvain away from her with a powerful hand before slipping into one of the washrooms that was near the mess hall.

Sylvain could only bite his lip in bashfulness as he stumbled backwards over his feet, the corners of his mouth quirking into a little smile. She's not wrong. He thought to himself and sighed, bumbling around to get into a separate washroom to change into his new clothes.

As much as Sylvain loved the moment where he stood under the rain with Byleth, he hated how his clothes felt against his skin, and the cold air in the washroom only made his body spasm as a reaction. He wrinkled his nose when he shed the articles of clothing and immediately wiped at his bare chest and arms with his new towel to dry off.

"Gross." the man had groaned in annoyance once he had to peel off his pants. The sound of wet clothing thumped against the floor along with the clatter of his belt, and he sighed, rubbing his forehead as he put the towel back to use.

Once he was finished putting on the pieces of clothing Dedue and Annette had retrieved for him, Sylvain threw his large towel into a nearby hamper and kept the dinner towel on his head to help his hair dry.

The air in the dinner hall was pleasantly warm, and it definitely helped bring back the feeling of his fingers. The room was less packed than it was before, save for Mercedes, Byleth, and a few soldiers spread out here and there.

Mercedes perked up when she saw Sylvain enter in with a teal, long sleeved turtleneck, a mahogany long coat, and charcoal sweatpants. "A bit dolled up, aren't you, Sylvie?" she teased the redhead with the nickname and shot an expectant glance towards Byleth who was still sipping at her soup.

Sylvain didn't seem to bristle at the comment, but he looked at his own clothes with a pleased quirk to his lips then looked back up at the two women seated at the table. "Annette did say that Ferdinand picked the clothes for me." he shrugged his shoulders lazily then jutted his chin in Byleth's direction, his mouth slowly curving into a smile when said woman looked up from her soup to look back at him.

"Don't you think our Darling Byleth is dressed up a bit too pretty for such a casual occasion?" he drawled while sitting across from Byleth and welcoming the stew that Mercedes was pushing towards him.

Byleth was dressed in a fitted black mock turtleneck and an open, light grey cardigan that was falling down her shoulders as she ate, exposing that the shirt she was wearing was also a short sleeve. Despite the calm look on his face, his heart was racing at how the clothes accentuated her shape, but also softened her look.

Sylvain broke through the cheese on his soup with his spoon to keep him from staring.

"Hm." Byleth hummed into her spoon of soup with a hint of mirth flashing in her eyes, "I don't know." she mocked him while cleaning up her spoon with her tongue, her eyes showing off an uncharacteristic smile. "What do you think, Sylvie?" she batted her eyelashes prettily at her target and tapped her spoon against her tongue.

The nickname coming out from Byleth's mouth left him a sputtering mess, and he winced when a hot splash of his soup landed on his thigh. He grumbled childishly as he wiped at the wet spot on his sweatpants with a separate dinner towel, and Mercedes and Byleth giggled to each other when they noticed how red his ears were when they poked out from under the towel on his head.

Mercedes smiled knowingly at Sylvain when he finished cleaning up the small mess on his pants, and gave a motherly kiss to Byleth's wet hair as she stood up from the bench, "I'll be going now. Don't go out into the rain until it settles." she reprimanded the both of them as she squeezed Byleth's hand before putting it back on the table.

When the gremory walked out of ear shot, Sylvain cupped a hand around his mouth with a sparkle in his eyes and a grin playing on his lips, "I think Mercie's got a crush on ya." he winked suggestively at the mint haired woman across from him then shoved a spoonful of soup into his mouth, visibly slouching as the salty sweet warmth coursed throughout his body.

Byleth scoffed playfully and dropped her spoon into her now empty bowl, crossing her arms over her chest to challenge Sylvain with a raise of her eyebrows. "Mercie is too preoccupied with Lil' Annette, Sylvain." she laughed and subconsciously played with the hair that Mercedes had kissed a little while ago, smiling fondly at how motherly Mercedes has become over the few years she's known her for.

And then her face turned serious, and something in Sylvain's stomach didn't sit right with him when he watched her fold her hands on the table.

"I just wanted to thank you." she whispered between them with a crooked smile, her doe eyes slightly sad as she looked at Sylvain, "You didn't have to reach out for me today, but you did, and I think it's going to help me get through this week." she admitted shyly, and a small twinge of pink dusted her cheeks as she glanced up at the man who had pushed his bowl of soup to the side, all of his attention now concentrated on her. The silence that fell between them was comfortable, and Sylvain took it as the chance to reach across the table for Byleth's hand, gently prying it from the other one she was clutching onto so that he could hold her hand in his palm.

"I'm -- we're.. All of us are here for you." Sylvain stumbled over his words when Byleth curled her fingers in his palm, her fingertips tickling his skin as he spoke to her with genuine concern. His smile was kind while he waited for Byleth's answer, and she only nodded, with a private smile shared only between him and her.

"I am so grateful." she sighed wistfully as she began to stand up from her bench. Sylvain could only watch and follow her movement curiously as she walked around the end of the bench with her hand still held in his, pleasantly surprised when she stopped to stand in front of him. His legs were spread on either side of the bench and she had coincidentally stepped between them. Despite her not stepping any closer, Sylvain was getting nervous at the barely close proximity.

His heart was racing again.

His throat bobbed nervously as he tilted his head up to look at Byleth who was snickering at him in amusement, knowing all too well that he was getting nervous for a silly reason.

"Calm down," she laughed happily and squeezed his hand before using the same hand to wrap his arm around her hips, shuffling closer until she was able to wrap her own arms around his neck to pull him into a cosy hug, her body a snug fit against him as he let himself hug her back in earnest, his arms a tight chain above her hips.

"Thank you, Sylvie." she murmured sweetly into his ear once she noticed he was getting comfortable with her in his arms, and let out a gentle laugh when she felt his face heat up, one of her hands coming up to curl around his strong jaw. She brushed the pad of her thumb against the sharp bone and hummed a small melody that Jeralt used to murmur to her when he tried to coaxed her to sleep, sighing softly at how perfect his arms felt around her body

"And stop trying to hide your feelings. I'm not as dense you guys make me out to be." she admonished him with a smile on her face, grinning when Sylvain's arms loosened in shock. Quickly, she pulled the towel from his head off and printed a gentle kiss to his temple where the hair was almost dry before stepping out from between his legs, but before she could move far enough, Sylvain curled his hand around her wrist and pulled her back in between his legs, his lips already grazing along her forearm.

His arm wrapped around her waist once more, and with how tightly he coiled around her, Byleth's cardigan had slipped down her arms. "Okay, By." he mumbled sweetly into her pale skin, his soft lips trailing up her arm until they brushed over the dip between her collarbones. Happily, he nuzzled his nose into the centre of her throat when she didn't push him away, and planted a small butterfly kiss onto her neck.

The scent of her skin smelled so sweet to Sylvain, and when he inhaled, his mind nearly went dizzy with pleasure. Silently, as his body buzzed with excitement, he bared his teeth and grazed the sharp tips along her unmarked skin, and just as he was about to sink his teeth into the sweet flesh, Byleth had tangled her fingers in the hair at the back of his head and tugged him back with a teasing smile on her face.

"But at least show some restraint." she scolded him then proceeded to kiss his forehead, her hand still buried in his hair. "Okay?"

Sylvain's throat bobbed, his gaze filtered through thick eyelashes.

"Okay."

Byleth then let out a playful coo and pat his cheek with her free hand, "Good boy." she praised, combing her fingers through his messy hair one last time before reaching back to pry his clingy arms from her waist. "Thank you for today." she smiled again, and left Sylvain on the bench with his cold bowl of stew to head for the mess hall where Mercedes and Annette probably are.

"I'll see you tomorrow." the redhead had called out breathlessly, and watched at how her lovely figure walked away with a slight skip to her step.

When she was out of sight, Sylvain turned back to the table and held his head in his hands, his body straining with how much adrenaline was running through his body. He reminded himself of how her fingers tangled themselves in his hair and how her body felt so warm against his chest when he held her for a brief minutes and groaned into the wood that trembled beneath his elbows.

"She is so hot." he sobbed into his hands.

#sylvain jose gautier #sylvain x byleth #fire emblem byleth #byleth eisner #fire emlem three houses #fire emblem imagines #fe3h #fe3h imagines

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