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parkers-gal · 3 years

Note

hello! peter parker comforting reader when they are super depressed and sad because they see other beautiful girls on the internet and feel worthless but peter comforts you?

requests are open

please read with caution! it’s very descriptive

—

Time and time again, you would try to get that voice out of your head. Out of your mind, where it deteriorated all the positive things, all the bright memories and thoughts that it taunted, ruined. You didn’t know how to stop it, where it was coming from, or why it still talked.

It did nothing but kick you when you were down, pester you when you finally felt the slightest bit of freedom. It bothered you endlessly, asking for more but never willing to give what it took.

You’d tried getting rid of your phone all together. You’d thrown it out of the window once, during a particularly rough summer evening. Tony had a fit about it, but it didn’t matter. He always bought you new things, what was another phone to him?

You’d wondered if other girls were like this, if other people were like this. If they had that same loud voice in their heads, the same way of thinking that did nothing but destroy. You didn’t want to ask, too afraid of the response, and too afraid of the reactions. You couldn’t even bring it up to Peter, your soft and adorable boyfriend who would go to the ends of the Earth just to make sure you were safe and happy.

You wanted to cry because of that. Because he was so good to you and you had absolutely no reason to not believe him, to not believe in yourself. You wanted to cry because you knew you had no reason to feel everything you do.

Maybe you should stop wanting the tears to fall. Maybe you don’t deserve to cry at all. Maybe you deserve to bottle everything up, keep your burdens inside so nothing goes wrong for anyone else.

You thought a lot of things.

It was late, probably a quarter after eleven. You were laying in your bed, scrolling through countless Instagram posts, switching back and forth between your camera roll photos and the modeled Instagram posts. You wanted to cry, but you also wanted to stop crying. You wanted everything at once, and it made your entire situation harder for yourself.

You wanted to be good enough for Peter. You’d seen girls around him, seen what you thought he liked best. You tried so hard to be that for him, but nothing was ever enough. Nothing achieved the results you wanted.

You tried to quiet the sniffles and sobs. You tried but you always forget, because it becomes all-consuming. You’re so conceited.

You’re too busy crying to realize Peter has barged into the room, talking excitedly about something Vision had said to him and Ned.

“Hey, baby. You should’ve heard wha-” he paused, his feet stopping in his place. “Are you crying?”

You quickly sat up, wiping your cheeks and shutting your phone off, sliding it underneath your pillow.

“No,” you denied, shaking your head with a shaky smile. “I’m not; I’m fine.”

“Yes you are,” he slowly walked over to you, cooing. “Baby… what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you mustered a laugh. “I’m fine. What were you saying?”

He sat down softly beside you, feet dangling off your mattress, one hand reaching for yours while the other cupped your cheek, his thumb moving back and forth across it, taking note of how noticeable the tear stains were.

“Y/N,” his voice was hushed and smooth. “You know you can talk to me, right? I’m here for you, baby.” You nodded in his grasp, eyes blinking away fresh tears that he didn’t miss. “What happened, angel?”

You sniffled, exhaling shakily, blinking away more tears. “I just… I don’t feel very good with myself lately.” He hummed and you went on. “I just…. I don’t like my body or- or my mind or-”

“What don’t you like, baby?” he kissed a knuckle.

You scoffed, eyes rolling back as you tilted your head upwards. “My hips,” you slapped them, voice rasping as you let a few more tears slip. “My boobs and my stomach and my stupid-fucking thighs.”

Peter frowned at you. You’d just named the things he loved about you, the things that make you undeniably beautiful.

“Why, baby? Why don’t you like those things?” his thumb rubbed across the back of your hand.

“Because, Peter! I don’t look like- like those girls!”

You stood up, frustrated and hands in the air. “What girls?”

You gestured to your phone on the bed. “Those girls on Instagram and shit! I don’t look anything like them and I’m trying everything but I just look ugly compared to them,” you puffed out a breath, sobbing into the room.

Peter stood up, walking over to your distressed self and wrapping his arms around you. You collapsed into his chest, sobbing into his infamous blue MidTown hoodie. Tear after tear fell, Peter rubbing up and down your back. Your breathing was erratic, and you were afraid you were too loud and too irritating. Peter didn’t care, though. He didn’t care if anyone judged him for letting you cry in his arms. He’d rather it be him than anyone else.

Steve and Bucky knocked on your bedroom door to check on you; the sounds of whimpers had caught their attention. Peter motioned towards you, eyes closed in his arms as you tried to catch your breath. They nodded when his finger shushed them. They closed the door gently, and eventually, you calmed down.

Peter sat you in the bed, knees connected.

“Why do you wanna look like those girls, baby?” “Because you like those girls.”

Peter looked at you, bewildered. “Who said that?”

“Well,” you took a deep breath. “No- nobody, but it just seemed like you like all those girls with-”

“Hey,” he cut you off. “I don’t have guidelines for who I like. I like you, Y/N. With thick thighs or without. I love your belly, and your thighs and your hips an-and,” he stuttered a bit, “And your boobs. Because that’s you, and your body does so much for you. I love you; I would never ask you to change yourself because you think it’d be more appealing.”

“Oh, Peter,” you whispered, moving back into his embrace. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes you do,” he stated firmly, kissing your head. “You deserve all the good things in the world.”

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kuroos-world · 3 years

Text

The Bookshop Keeper - Dabi mini series PT.4

Masterlist A/N: I’ll try to get these out more routinely!

Chapters: pt.1 pt.2 EC pt.3

A few weeks go by and the two of you settle into a nice routine, you’d wake up at 7 to get ready to open up the shop. While you’d get ready Dabi would get up to make you breakfast, and then with a peck on your forehead he’d send you off to work. You spent most of the day in the shop while Dabi did, well you weren’t completely sure what he did all day, but when you got home he’d be making dinner. Which is what he was doing now, ‘this is much better than staying at the shop all night’ you thought, feeling really happy with the domesticity of it all, It felt so natural. At the same time though, it had you craving more, more of Dabi, not just the forehead kisses and cuddles (both of which you absolutely loved). You honestly weren’t sure what was going on between the two of you and it was starting to make you feel anxious that maybe he didn’t see things the way you did.

“Dabi?”

“What’s up doll?”

“I l-like spending time with you,” he smirks inching closer to you,

“Yeah? Not tired of me yet?” Shaking your head you lean into him.

“No never, if anything I want to be closer to you,”

Dabi feels his chest squeeze, he can’t,

“Closer? Doll you’re practically laying on me,” he chuckles trying to divert the conversation elsewhere. He hadn’t thought much of it when he accidentally fell into a routine with you, but now he was hyper aware of it. You’re so sweet to him, he didn’t want to have to hurt you, but if you’re already forming an attachment maybe he should start planning his exit.

Too lost in his thoughts he subconsciously leans into your hand that’s reaching up to cup his face. His eyes meet yours and he notices the shyness in them, “all my life i've jumped from place to place,

I’ve never really felt at ease but,

With you I finally feel free,

And I know it’s a but soon but to me,

You feel like home”

The room grows silent, the two starts at each other for a long time, and though they don’t know it, their hearts began to beat in sync

1,2,3&4 1,2,3&4

“I love you” “I need to leave”

They speak in time, both eyes widening. Ones full with tears and the others with fear. He jumps back putting in a distance that feels much larger than it is,

“I should go,” “okay”

He leaves looking for a distraction, you stay but everywhere you try to hide, he’s there. His scent lingers in your bed, his books and notes in the living room. His presence, usually comforting, encompasses you, made you feel like you were suffocating and drowning in him. You’re quick to pull on a hoodie and make your way to the shop, hoping to find comfort in your second home. You walk in through the back door, being weary of the dark night surrounding you. As you walk towards your office you hear some shuffling between the aisles, you walk closer silently picking up a book. You reach the aisle and see a familiar figure, “wha-“ you both say in shock, “what are you doing here?” “Needed a distraction, you?”

“Needed an escape” you mumble, irritated

“God, it’s like you’re everywhere,” he huffs,

“Dude you came to MY shop” you retort and he gives you a face of disgust,

“Don't call me that and I didn’t think you’d come here. It’s late and dangerous for you to be out,”

“I can go out whenever I want,” the two of you stare at each other in annoyance,

“Whatever I'm staying on this side so you get that side”

“You’re such a baby” you grumble walking to the other side of the shop to find the book you had earlier.

After finding it you walk into your office, but Dabi was already in there, sitting on your comfy chair. You ignore his ugly stare and sit behind him on the couch, the two of you get lost in your books for a while before you accidentally break the trance,

“Ugh this guy is so stupid, he should’ve been honest with her from the beginning,” Dabi’s head shot up in defense,

“Maybe he was trying to protect her,”

“Maybe she doesn’t need protection,”

“Maybe if she knew everything from the start she wouldn’t have wanted him,” you look up to meet his eyes, his eyes bore into yours with emotions he doesn’t even know how to express,

“Are you hiding something from me?” He scoffs at you,

“Is that why you left?” He picks up his book once more but you demand his attention,

“Dabi! What aren’t you saying?”

He smirks but his eyes are cold, “there’s a lot I’m not saying doll,”

“Tell me.” You demand, “what do you want me to say? You’re so beautiful and I can’t imagine my life with you now… y/n we’re not in one of your fucking books. It doesn’t work like that in real life,” he almost loses his resolve when he sees the anger in your eyes.

“Fuck. You.” You don’t bother wiping the angry tear that falls, you held the same stone faced expression Dabi was currently wearing, “if you needed a place to stay why.. why’d get so close with me? If you just wanted to be friends why’d you flirt all the time ? I know my life isn’t a fucking romance novel! (wink wink) You’re not the only one with secrets Dabi,” your nose flares in anger and you push yourself off the couch, you start to walk away but Dabi’s hand stops you. “You wouldn’t be able to handle it” you turn, exasperated “Dabi i don’t know what you’ve been through and you don’t have to tell me but shit, you don’t have to play with my emotions if you just wanted to be friends,”

“Why are you so fucking nice? Do you know how hard it is to not like you? But you’re so fucking fragile, I couldn’t do that to you,”

“Do what? Break my heart? You wouldn’t be the first and probably wouldn’t be the last, and I’m not fragile. I'm more than capable of holding my own.”

“I praised tour writing and an hour later I heard you crying about it in the shower,” your face heats up,

“Blame that in the mommy issues,” you straighten your back, “but I’ve made my feelings for you clear, if you’re too scared to pursue something with me then you can fuck off. I won’t have you use me and my kindness whenever you please,” your sudden assertiveness caught him off guard but he’s quick to hide the shock from his face, “you won’t like me once you know,” “hmpf,” you start to walk away again, “but I want to know you,” “know me?” “I want to know everything about you,” “why?” “Because I want you to know me too, but” he takes a step back and averts his eyes, “but you’re too scared?” He scowls at that “I’m not a bitch or nothing but yeah more or less,” you giggle, “so what then?” “So we figure it out as we go, but yeah I’m willing to try,” you smile, finally, you stand on your toes and kiss him gingerly, finally. The two of you walk home and in hand. Once you get home he drags you to bed, where he hovers above you and kisses you so sweetly it makes your toes curl. But before anything more can happen he pulls away, “before we get deeper into this, there’s something you need to know.”

“...okay?” “I’m part of a group called the league of villains,” he searches your eyes intensely looking for a sign of change, “... that’s kind of a cheesy name” you stifle giggles, “is that your big bad secret?” “What? You’re not like scared or anything?” “No, you must’ve had a reason for joining right? Don’t they follow stains ideology?” “Yeah kinda.. you know about that?” “Yeah he made some valid points,” “no the LOV? No one really knows about us and what we do,” “yeah I don’t know much but I’ve heard customers talk about it from time to time. I told you my shop is for ANYONE to escape from their reality,” Dabi kisses you again,

“Stop surprising me” he mumbled against your lips.

——————

Taglist Open;

@orenjineki @liitlesushi

@icedtea-with-lemon16 @dabis-bitch

@c0metar5on @threbony

@prince-cahn @whalerus

@caramelsquares @vanilla-iced-latte

@sssjuico10

#mha fanfiction #mha imagines #mha x reader #dabi headcanons #dabi imagine #dabi smut #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #mha dabi #dabi todoroki #mha angst #bnha dabi #dabi my hero academia #yandere dabi #dabi fluff #dabi is touya #dabi touya #touya x y/n #mha touya

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43sparrows · 4 years

Text

r e j e c t - {Five x Reader} AU!

Read Part 1 & Part 2

WARNINGS: drunkenness

Word Count: 2,133

Note: let me know what you think of this development!

It's a huge ass diamond.

The newspaper is still open on your coffee table, and you can see the grainy black and white picture from your spot on the couch. You shouldn't be able to spot the ring from this far, not with your eyes as puffy as they are, not with the tears constantly clouding your vision, but the small white spot practically glows amongst all the grey. It's probably all the carats.

You snatch a tissue from where the box sits at the end table, running it under your eyes to collect tears and make up. There's a part of you that wishes your roommate was here to bitch about how ugly the girl was and how dumb he was. To remind you of how the sex was only ever good and help get your mind off of it.

But she left for her parents' last night and wouldn't be back until tomorrow evening. So it's just you and Laura Williams' from Channel 13, whose story about a soldier returning home to surprise his pregnant wife is doing absolutely nothing to ease the shaking breaths that leave you.

A knock sounds from the front door, stopping further descent down the spiral. Instead, you push yourself up from the couch and haul yourself over to the door, one shuffling footstep after the next. There's another knock as you undo the deadbolt and pull the door open.

Five stands before you with eyebrows raised. His look shifts slightly as he takes you in, his gaze intensifying as he studies your face. A wave of anxiousness crashes over you, leaving a gut twisting feeling of embarrassment in its wake. You've never cried in front of Five. There's never been much of a reason to, but even when you've stumbled into things or had a bad day, you've always been so careful to keep it in. It seems like just your luck that he'd walk in on you feeling your absolute lowest.

"Bad time?" he asks.

"Kind of," you say, wiping at the tears under your eyes once more with the tissue that's still in your hand. You hope you don't resemble a raccoon, but you have a feeling that the powers that be aren't taking any of your requests at the moment.

"What happened?" He's direct and to the point, like always. No offer to kill someone for you or gently asking if you want to talk about it. Still, it's a bit surprising that he's waiting for an answer as opposed to teleporting away.

"Just a long day. A long bad day," you needlessly clarify. His head tilts slightly but he doesn't press you on it. He doesn't need to. "Work is rough," you offer up.

"That sucks," Five says. He either doesn't know you well enough to tell you're lying, or doesn't care enough to try. Either way it cuts deeper than it probably should. You blame it on the fact that you're emotionally raw right now because there are only so many truth's you're capable of facing at once. And you're already feeling overloaded. Your head keeps cycling through the same five truths.

You'd been with your ex for two whole years and he'd never even broached the topic of moving in.

It only took him eight months to fall in love and get engaged to someone else.

In the same eight months all you got was a friend with benefits minus the actual friendship.

All you want is to be hugged and there's nobody around who'll do that

You're all alone.

The near silence between you seems to exacerbate this last truth, only the sound of Laura Williams' voice in the background announcing a new birth at the zoo cuts through the quiet. It's almost a full minute of willing your eyes not to water before Five speaks again. "Do you want me to leave?"

You're not sure if he's being the world's biggest asshole or doing his best at being considerate. You are sure there's absolutely no way you can make it through a session with him without bursting into more tears. You're also sure that you don't want him to leave. Not at all.

"I'm not really up for anything right now," you shake your head, looking down at the crumpled and stained tissue that's still in your hand.

Five doesn't say anything, and you bet he's either nodding or still staring at you like he's trying to read your thoughts. And then you see his feet angle themselves away from you, ready to leave. Your heart sinks in your chest. You shouldn't have expected him to offer to stay. To comfort you. You need to stop hoping for things that he would never--could never--deliver. Because being warm and caring--that's not Five. It never has been.

"Hey." His voice calls to you, and you hate how quickly your head snaps to him. "Make some coffee, take a bath, and put on something other than the news."

You nod as he offers a ghost of a sympathetic smile before turning and vanishing.

You close door, walk back into your apartment, reach over for the remote and turn off the news.

It's approximately six hours later, and you're still on the couch but at least now you're surrounded by all of your new closest friends: Jack, Jim, Johnnie, Jose--all of the J's and of course remnants of the Captain from last time you and your roommate made mojitos.

Who the fuck needed people when you had these guys and a playlist of 2000s hits.

Not you.

It was a good thing your roommate wasn't home. There's no way she wouldn't have made fun of your dance moves as you let the beat of the Black Eyed Peas' "Don't Phunk With My Heart" take control of your limbs. And while to the outside eye it might look as if you'd lost control of your motor skills, it felt good just giving in to the influence of the music and your friends.

"Y/N?"

You turn more quickly than your legs are ready for, stumbling over yourself to face the person in your apartment. You just barely catch yourself by throwing out a hand and bracing yourself against the coffee table.

"Five?" you ask, squinting your eyes at him. You can't tell if his face is more amused or bemused. For some reason all you can focus on are his raised eyebrows. He nods at you, tilting his head slightly.

"What are you doing?" It takes a minute to parse his voice out from will.i.am's rapping.

"Dancing. What are you doing?" You return back, pushing yourself back up to your feet. His eyes run over you and your apartment, seeming to take in the scene more fully. From the fact that you're only wearing a bralette and sweatpants (which has never been your style but you spilled one of the whiskeys on your shirt) to the various pages of the newspaper scattered around the floor and the song pulsating through the apartment.

Don't you worry about a thing, baby / 'Cause you know you got me by a string, baby.

Five takes a step forward, examining the assortment of bottles on your coffee table.

"You called me," he says, picking up the bottle of Jack Daniels that doesn't have more than a swallow left in it. "Eight times. Did you drink all of these?" he asks, gesturing towards you with the bottle.

You scoff at the ridiculousness of the question. As if you could drink five handles of liquor and still be on your feet. "No, they were mostly empty."

He nods, putting the bottle back down on the table and then looks at you out of the side of his eye as the song ends. "Are you going to tell me what’s really going on now?" Five asks, turning slowly to face you fully as the intro for the next one picks up. You pause, staring at him as your brain tries to piece together what he's asking you. It's not until the verse picks up that it clicks. You nod, reaching for the nearest page of the newspaper. It's cartoons. It takes a few more tries to find the right page before you thrust it at Five, the beat continuing to increase the anticipation, and you find yourself rocking to the song and waiting for him to finish reading.

Never meant to make your daughter cry / I apologize a trillion times.

I'm sorry Ms. Jackson--

"Ooh," you sing along to the one part of the song you're able to keep up with. Five tosses the paper onto the table.

"Your ex?"

You nod, bouncing your shoulders to the beat. "He's getting married," you sing at Five despite the fact that it is not a line to the song and you are horribly off tune.

"Statistically, it'll only last eight years," Five responds, but his eyes continue to linger on you, watching as you make a horrible attempt at lip syncing the rap. He pauses, narrowing his eyes lightly before asking: "You're still…in love with him?"

This elicits another scoff from you. "No," you say as if he's stupid for even suggesting it. "No, no, no-no." You stumble towards him. "He--no," you shake your head, grabbing onto Five's arm so you can brace yourself. You pause, squeezing at his tricep, momentarily distracted by how muscular he is.

"Y/N," Five prompts, and you look up at him and into his green eyes.

"I just wish I had something to shove in his face," you say, withdrawing your hand from Five so you can cup your hands to hold this imaginary item. "Something to show him how wrong he was about me. You know? I'm fucking future material," you say shaking your hands in Five's face. You step back, grabbing the handle of Captain Morgan from the coffee table. "But it looks like he was right," you mumble, looking down into the clear liquid that sloshes at the bottom of the bottle. "The fucker was right. I'm a reject." You lift the rum to your lips to take a swig only to find it yanked from your grasp.

"Hey!" you shout in protest, reaching for the bottle, but Five shakes his head and finishes it off before you can get it back. "Asshole," you mutter, brow furrowed.

"You didn't need it," he says, placing the bottle down as you glare at him. Five turns and begins to walk away towards your bedroom. He pauses half-way there and looks at you. "Are you coming or not?"

You almost trip over the couch in your hurry to follow him.

You do tumble over when you make the poor decision to try to take off your pants on your way to the bedroom. Five's head sticks out your door at the sound, and seeing you on the ground, pants wrapped around your left ankle and right calf, he sighs and comes back out. After a few moments of furious kicking, you're free of the pants and Five is bending over you. It takes a second to realize what's happening, but the next thing you know he's hoisted you over his shoulder and is hauling you off into the bedroom. The act sends tingles racing through your body in anticipation despite the fact that your head feels significantly more cloudy, and it's hard to focus on much.

Your back hits the mattress, and Five is bending over you, but something is off. He's not on the bed. And his hands aren't on you. Instead, he's creating a wall of pillows behind you. As he draws away, you catch hold of his arm and tug him towards you, lifting yourself up off the bed enough so that your lips connect.

Even though your world is fuzzy, the feeling of his lips against yours are enough to keep you grounded in the moment. You reach up with your other hand to pull him even lower, to deepen the kiss, to make him join you in this bed where he belongs, but instead he backs out of your grasp, gently breaking himself free. It would sting more if your limbs weren't so heavy, if your eyelids weren't drooping, if you weren't already half asleep.

You wake up the next morning feeling like shit.

Everything hurts and it seems like your skull is actively trying to split itself in half. Getting out of bed is a process that looks far more like coordinated falling than getting up and at 'em. You walk heavily, stiff legged into the kitchen, and there is one piece of mercy.

Sitting on your counter is a full carafe of coffee with a mug and bottle of aspirin sitting next to it.

You feel a little less like shit.

Read Part 4

#five hargreeves #number five #number 5 #number 5 smut #number five smut #five hargreeves smut #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #number 5 reader

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meanhoeforcb97 · 4 years

Text

12:03am

Pairing: Boyfriend!Chan x Insecure!Gender Neutral!Reader

Genre: angst with some fluff and soft smut

Warnings: body insecurity, body-shaming (for self), swearing, hickeys I am not sure if I'm missing anything let me know of I do

Requested: yes

Words: 2.5k

Note: This hits very close to home but I tried not to make it very specific as in the reader being "too fat" or "too skinny" or male or female or any gender to exist. Just remember y'all are beautiful and amazing in your own ways and you dont need to fit into society's unbelievable beauty standards to be gorgeous because you were born gorgeous no matter who you are or how you look like💖💞💕 My dms are always open if you need anyone to talk to and shower you with love💞💖💕💗

It was getting late and Chan wasn't home yet. He was such a hardworking man and you loved that about him. But the thing is you couldn't go to sleep and you knew he'd hate to see you staying awake until the early morning waiting for him.

You decided to take a warm shower to relax you and help you sleep better.

Getting ready, you picked out your pajamas and underwear while humming one of the songs Chan had shown you a few days ago. You were in a happy light mood as you started undressing yourself. However you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and you halted your movements.

Looking at yourself your small smile left your lips as your eyes wandered all over your body and all the things you considered as ugly flaws. You took off your shirt completely and gasped at what you saw. Lately you had been so busy with work and hanging out with Chan you hadn't had time to look at yourself like that again. Chan was always constantly reassuring you of how amazing you are and made sure to always let you know that he finds you the most gorgeous human being he had ever laid eyes upon but all of these thoughts flew out the window at that moment.

Looking at your body you felt like a devil was on your shoulder telling you how ugly and worthless you are. Emphasizing how you didn't deserve Chan in the very least and how Chan will leave you if you continue to look like this.

Tears were stinging at the back of your eyes and you frantically undressed yourself looking at your reflection with tear-filled eyes. A shaky hand moved to your cheeks pinching them with so much spite and a broken sob left your lips. Then it trailed down to your arms pinching them and wishing they didn't look like this. Pinching on your stomach and sides and thighs and waist. Your hands were roaming all over your body and pinching everything you found imperfect wishing as if you pinched too hard they would magically change into being beautiful enough to fit your standards. By now you were crying a river and your chest was feeling tight.

Your hands moved to you hair pulling at your locks in despair.

"W-why... why do I have to be like this?.." You muttered to yourself looking at your pitiful reflection.

You were breathing heavy, short and shaky breaths trying to calm down.

"N-no... I shouldn't think like this.. I-I am enough...right?" The devil on your shoulder wouldn't stop now, it was enjoying the show way too much.

'Chan is dating you only because he feels pity towards you. He must have thought that you will die single if you look like this..'

Your tears fell faster and no matter how hard you tried to wipe them, a fresh layer would always stain your cheeks.

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away from your reflection and focus on the task at hand.

"Right... shower.. I-I need to shower.." You mumbled snapping yourself back into reality.

Stepping into the shower you let the warm water calm your muscles and wash away your tears. You tried your best to ignore your body and all the thoughts that were suppressed at the back of your head but when you were done with washing your head you knew you'd have to look down and face the disappointment. Taking the body wash in your shaky hands you started scrubbing your arms and chest but the moment you looked down you couldn't help but let the sponge fall from your grip and you to start crying again. Letting your back hit against the cold tiles of the wall you slid down and settled in the corner of the shower sobbing loudly into your palms and frantically trying to wipe your tears.

On the other side of the house keys were being pushed in the keyhole and the door unlocked. Chan walked inside with a small, tired smile. Taking off his shoes and coat, he realised the lights were all still on which meant you were probably awake. His face turned into a small pout as he looked down at his phone for the time. When he saw 12:03am on display his pout grew wider as he furrowed his eyebrows slightly.

"Y/n?" He called out quietly scared he might wake you up. When he didn't get any response back. He walked further into the house. He looked into the livingroom and saw you weren't there so he turned off the lights and continued on to the next room. He looked inside the kitchen and inside his small studio but you were nowhere to be found. With hesitant and quiet steps he came into your shared bedroom expecting to see you soundly sleeping but instead he was met with an empty and cold room. He shivered slightly as he noticed the window was wide open and closed it. Suddenly as the sound of the outside world was muted he could hear water running. He slightly smiled as relief washed over him when he realised you were just taking a shower and that he was overreacting. As he moved over to the bed to wait for you there, he suddenly heard a loud gasp. He tensed up and quickly walked towards the bathroom about barge in, thinking you had fallen and injured yourself. He quickly stopped in his tracks when he heard a loud sob escape your lips and that was the last thing he needed before he basically slammed the door open. Seeing you crouched down on the corner crying your eyes out didn't help his worried state at all as he rushed over to you opening the shower door and kneeling next to you.

"Y/n? Are you okay baby? Did you hurt yourself? Are you in pain? What happened?" He asked as he gripped your shoulders tightly-but not painfully tight- and scanned your bare body. Seeing all the red Mark's covering your skin made him gasp and you could only hug your knees tighter and hide yourself from his concerned gaze.

"Chan your clothes are gonna get wet.." You said as you tried to push his body away from you.

"Do you really think I care?" He asked seriously as he moved even closer to you being almost entirely inside the shower with you. "What happened baby? Talk to me.." He said softly as he let one of his hands trail from your shoulder to your cheek as he lightly caressed it and softly tried to make you look up– which you did.

"I-I... I just don't deserve you... I am just so ugly and useless and worthless and pitiful and such a shitty partner while you are so amazing. You're gorgeous and hardworking and inspiring and always positive and I just really don–" He was staring at you shocked as you started crying again and quickly interrupted you.

"Do you really think that?" He asked and you pulled your face away from his warm touch as you shoved yourself further into the corner, only to make him move inside the shower with you. You gasped as you looked at his hair and clothes dampening and his eyes squinting to stay open and looking at you.

"Chan what are you–" he quickly cut you off.

"Look at me Y/n." And you did.

Looking straight into his eyes you could see how he was in the verge of tears as well.

"You are the most amazing human being I have ever met and I love you more than anything in this world. You make me happy and you make me feel loved and you are all I've ever needed and wanted and more! So please I beg you don't say these things." He said as a tear rolled down his cheek but was quickly washed away by the water. You tried to talk but he interrupted you.

"And you are so so beautiful inside out. Exterior really does not matter but I am being 100% genuine when I say you're absolutely gorgeous. So please don't ever question your self-worth or how beautiful you are." He said as he moved closer to you hugging you and kissing the side of your neck softly.

You couldn't help but start crying again as you hugged Chan even more tightly.

"Thank you so much Chan.. you're such an amazing man and I am really grateful to have you in my life." You said and he smiled into your neck as he continued to kiss your cheeks where you had previously pinched yourself.

Once you were calm again he pulled away momentarily, turned off the shower, grabbed a towel and threw it over your head. You looked up at him confused but he pulled you closer to him and placed his hands under your knees and back raising you bridal style and you yelped slightly.

Moving you to the bed, he placed you down on top of it and started drying your hair and body with the towel. You felt like a child being taken care of by it's father and you were so thankful to have him take such good care of you. Once you were nice and dry, you sat in the middle of your shared bed and looked at him as he got rid of his damp clothes and you couldn't help but feel bad.

"I'm sorry I made you do this.." you said and you looked down at your hands playing on top of your bare lap.

"Baby dont ever feel sorry for such things alright? I just want you to be happy and feel loved because it's what you deserve." He said as he pressed a soft kiss on to your lips, pulled away giving you a dimpled smile and kissed you again a little deeper. You smiled into the kiss as you kissed back; God you loved him more than anything.

After he was undressed from his wet outfit he changed into a dry pair of boxers and came to the bed with some of your undergarments as well. He tossed them to you and you caught them with ease.

You started getting dressed but suddenly noticed how he kept staring at you as you covered your bare body. You analyzed his expression, his eyes were soft and full of love, his cheeks were slightly red and his bottom lip was caged between his teeth.

"W-what?" You asked slightly covering yourself up. Even though it wasnt the first time he had seen you naked, you still felt awkward when he gave you that stare.

"God, if I could change the way that you see yourself..." He muttered looking you up and down with his soft eyes.

"What?" You asked dumbfounded by how random he was being. He came closer to you, placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed you lovingly, dumbfounded you responded to the kiss a few seconds later. The kiss was soft and filled with emotion. As he detached his lips from yours he pressed your foreheads together and stared into your eyes.

"If you could see yourself through my eyes, you'd know why I'm so hopelessly in love with you... you're the best thing that's ever happened to me Y/n." He said softly, barely louder than a whisper. He pecked your lips one last time before kissing a trail from the corner of your mouth, to your jaw, to your neck all the way down to you collarbone and shoulder blade when he left more of his gentle open-mouthed kisses with some occasional soft biting here and there. His hands snaked from your face to the back of your neck slowly laying you down onto the bed and then down your body to rest on your waist.

You moaned softly as he sucked a hickey on your sweet spot and he smiled into the flesh of your neck.

He kissed a trail back up to your mouth where he kissed you deeply before pulling away to look at the masterpiece he created.

"I love you so much Y/n..." He said as he looked at you lovingly.

"I love you so much more Channie.." You said smiling up at him.

He smiled, "That's not true..." He said and you smiled back shaking your head. "Let me prove it to you, how much I love you.." He said caressing your sides and you smiled even wider nodding happily at him.

He kissed your lips again as he took off the underwear you had just put on and trailed his feather like touches all over your body, showering you with compliments.

"You're so fucking gorgeous Y/n.." Sucking another hickey into your neck, he started to take off his boxers. Pulling away from your neck, he reached into the bedside table pulling out his small bottle of lube, squirting some into his hand and smearing it all over his hard cock. His eyes never leaving yours. Both of your cheeks were painted pink as you lovingly stared into each others eyes.

"I love you so much.." you muttered as you stared at him. He smiled as he kissed you in response. He positioned his member to your entrance and slowly entered you until he bottomed you out. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck as you lazily kissed around his face.

"I will start moving now love." He announced and you nodded as you continued to leave small butterfly kisses on his cheeks. "Please do.." You said in between kisses.

As he started moving inside of you, both of you were in pure bliss. You wanted this moment to last forever. Being in each others embrace and sharing such an intimate but yet so loving and meaningful moment, you wanted it to last forever.

You moaned softly as he continued to take you slowly, steadily and deeply.

"You're taking me so well baby, you're amazing!" He groaned out softly as he kissed you cheek. "You look so pretty blushing and sweating underneath me love." "You are making me feel so amazing angel, how are you feeling?"

All the constant compliments, praises and words of reassurance were making you feel so overwhelmed that you felt tears sting at the back of your eyes and roll down your cheeks. When Chan saw you crying immediately stopped.

"What's wrong baby? Are you okay?" He asked as he looked at you worried.

"No! Please continue!" You pulled him closer to your body and he started moving again.

"What's up baby?" He asked as he kissed your tears dry and caressed your hair softly with one hand while the other was still softly caressing your waist.

"I just love you so fucking much and I'm so grateful to have you in my life.." You said and he smiled against your cheeks as he moved his lips back onto yours to give you yet another passionate love-filled kiss.

And soon you were both coming down from your highs still in each other's embrace and fell sound asleep under the pale moonlight with each other in both your arms and your mind. And you could have sworn you had never slept such careless, happy sleep.

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sunflowersteves · 4 years

Text

You Can’t Have Roses Without Thorns || ch. three

summary || Colossus makes you go to a superhero support group. You hate the idea of being in the same room as those lameos until a certain someone shows up late to the meeting.

author’s note || Imma be honest, reading it again, I kinda don’t like this fic. I like the idea of it but I don’t think my execution was well-done lmao. Luckily, I still have plenty of plans for Nat fics! Hope y’all enjoy, anyway!

Warnings || SMUT!! (If you are not 18+ do not read!), dom!nat, sub!reader, some angst, swearing, mentions of depression, a little bit of jealousy

m.list // chapter one // chapter two

Since around a month ago, Colossus thought it was a good idea for you to move into the X-men mansion.

You flopped yourself on Colossus’ bed. You were extremely bored. So, you started pestering him as he sat on a chair in the corner, reading. “Heyyyyy Colossus??” “What, Y/N?” “You wanna go drop piss balloons on people?” He turned to you with a bothered expression. “I have so many questions but no.” You whined, “But cmonnnnnn-” “Y/N. I am trying to read. It was so peaceful when you went to the support group. Go there.” You rolled your eyes and flipped him off as you walked out.

You had stopped going to the support group after your outburst at the cafe. You couldn’t bear to see Nat after what happened. Honestly? You knew you overreacted. Yelling at Nat, in public, over something she can’t control was a low blow. However, you didn’t want to waste her time. You didn’t want her to be immortal with you. That idea fucking terrified you. You were worried that if she became immortal with you as she said, she would later despise you for it. Watching families and friends die-off from old age can be a shit show. It’s the absolute worst.

Your whole life (which is long considering you were born in 1895), you’ve never had anyone just give you their mortal life. Her just dropping it like that scared the living shit out of you. This type of life is not what it’s cracked up to be. And what if she didn’t want you when she became immortal?

You were making a perfect, indescribable, show-stopping, mouth-watering, glorious ham sandwiches when the doorbell rang. “Fuck! I mean, who the hell is at the door? I can’t make my precise loving sandwiches with constant interr-” Your whole body froze as you opened the door. Nat was standing there with a tear-stained face. Something that you thought you would never see. Your stomach dropped.

Oh-no. She’s vulnerable. Oh-no. Your heart is beating a mile a minute. Your brain is betraying you, how can you think she looks beautiful? There’s some snot running down her nose, her eyes are bloodshot and puffy. Her cheeks are wet from tears and she should look ugly. When people cry, they should look gross and weird. But damn, does she look like the cutest, hottest person in the whole world right now.

Since you were just staring at her with big ass doe eyes, she let herself in. Both of you stood in silence for a while. She had picked up a tissue and began wiping her nose and eyes. You continued to make your sandwiches as she watched you. That made you hella fucking nervous. Since you were now a fumbling mess, you accidentally dropped the mustard on the floor. She bent down and picked it up, handing it back to you. You squeaked out a thank you and returned back to your cooking.

Nat took the opportunity to talk from your disturbance of the silence. “You know, I don’t get you. I know we don’t really know each other but you act like you are the only one going through shit.” wait… what? She’s not concerned about her offer of mortal life? You turned to her with furrowed eyebrows while she continued. “I can’t sympathize with what you’ve been through and what it’s like to be immortal but don’t act like you’re the only one that has a hard time. I was trained to be a cold-blooded emotionless assassin.” You sighed as you flipped over Colossus’ sandwich on the stove.

“That’s not why I left you there.” Her eyebrows furrowed with bewilderment. “It isn’t?” You shook your head, turning off the stove and putting Colossus’ sandwich on a plate. “I left because you can’t just throw away your mortality like that to me. It isn’t fair for you. As you said, you were trained to be a killer. Don’t you deserve a break?” She shook her head.

“But I’m not scared of it as long as I have you! Making that decision is right for me. You can’t just decide that it isn’t. I have that right.”

“But, Nat! I can’t have you to change for me. You’re going to realize that I’m not a good person and find someone else to love. You’re going to regret it! And I can’t-” She completely and utterly shut you up by putting her sweet red lips onto yours. Your lips molded together as she steered you towards the fridge. Your tongues interlocked as your back hit against the fridge. You whimpered when she broke apart your kiss. “You think I’m going to regret being with you? Or find someone else?”

You nodded, smelling her sweet minty breath as it fanned onto your face. “I’m going to show you exactly who you belong to. Why would I be with someone else when I have a perfect pet right here in front of me?” She started to kiss you again. The electricity you were feeling from her touches felt hot and tingled against your skin. Her hands started to roam and ravish the feeling of you. When she reached your ass, she squeezed. You squealed at the sensation.

She smirked and started to work her way down, nibbling at your skin in the crook of your neck. She growled, “You’re mine. Only. Mine.” You moaned as she licked up and down your neck. Her hands made their way up to your breasts. She started to massage them as she continued her attack on your neck. You stopped her to slide off your shirt and unclasp your bra. She then dipped her head and started to suck on your nipple, twirling her tongue around the sensitive bud. You moaned at the sensation. She then took her other hand and started to twirl your erect nub in between her fingers. “You’re such a good girl for me, Y/N, you know that? I’m just simply playing with your breasts and look at how hot and bothered you look.”

Your jaw hit the floor as her hand went to cup your heat. “I bet you’re just as wet as ever down there, huh?” Her actions had left you into a whimpering, groaning mess. Her hands just felt so good. As one hand kept messaging your breast, the other started to take down your shorts, only leaving you in your panties. You cried as she stopped massaging, a pout distinguished on your face. “Oh, baby girl, don’t you worry. I’m gonna take care of you.” She stared you down, her eyes dilated with lust.

She took both of her hands and curled them around your underwear to yank them down slowly. It felt like she took a whole month to finally pull all the way down. You whined as wetness pooled down your legs. “Oh, baby, look at you.” She growled as she swung one of your legs on top of yours to hold you steady. “Your pussy is fucking dripping and it’s all for me.” She slid her fingers down your slit. You moaned, “How can I look at anyone else when your pussy is right here for me?” Her finger lightly rubbed against your clit, leaving you to cry out and whimper. She smirked and lowered her hand, entering you. You gasped and your hand gripped her shoulder. She slowly started to pump her fingers in and out of you.

Your moans started to get louder and louder, she couldn’t help but moan with you. “Fuck, Y/N, you are ravishing.” Her fingers start getting faster and faster, curling at just the right spot to make you closer to orgasm. She entered a third finger, still increasing her speed. You whimpered when she took her other hand and started This was all getting too much. She could tell you were holding on as long as you could. Her smirk was enchanting.

“Cum. Now.” Oh and you did, hard. Your mouth hung open, eyes squeezed shut, and your body was twitching at the pleasures you felt. You started to scream her name. “Yes, baby, yell my name.” Her fingers rode you out as all you could say over and over again was ‘Nat.’ She purred in your ear at how good you were for her and how your juices looked so pretty on her fingers. The only thing that consumed your mind was her as your high came down.

You both stood there, the area around you filled with the sound of you both panting. Her eyes danced around yours, trying to figure out what you were thinking. You opened your mouth to speak but she beat you to it. “How about this, we start to date now-” You opened your mouth again but she put her finger onto your mouth. “Let me finish, baby. We date now and in a few years, if we’re ready to take our relationship to the next level we decide what we want to do. Whether that’s get married first or go straight to being immortal.

You contemplated for a minute, you were still convinced that she shouldn’t go with this if it means she’ll be immortal, however, it’s her choice and it’s all in the future. You gripped your pinky finger with hers. “Pinky promise?” She giggled at your gesture but nonetheless agreed. She leaned closer to your face and grinned. “Pinky promise.”

You both froze as you heard big metal footsteps. “Uh Colossus-” “Hey, guys I heard some screaming-” You all three screamed at each other and you did your best to cover you and Nat up. Colossus closed his eyes and whined in agony, “All I wanted was my ham sandwich!”

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coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe · 3 years

Text

Dancing In The Dark or Jealous Rage

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @stupidbluegirl @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst

This Passage contains potentially: swearing, violence, blood, angst, whump, fluff and smutty content.

Summary: Kirby goes with the girls out to a night club while Roddy is away, jealous escapades ensue after he gets back and hears about her antics.

Kirby's POV:

I woke up the following morning (The 24th) alone, no sign of Rod, I was confused until I saw the clothes laid out and a note on top of my leather jacket.

'I've gone to do some work in Pennsylvania. Don't worry, I'll be back later this week. Love You, Mo Chridhe. Roddy.'

"Mo Chridhe, that's, that is Scots for … yeah, Scots Gaelic for my heart … Aww, Roderick you romantic eejit."

I went about my usual morning routine and the rest of the day was thoroughly uneventful, but the night, oh the night was fun, or at least it was when it started.

Billie had suggested we go out for drinks and have a good time, and so we did.

About three Espresso Martinis in I started to loosen up.

"So," Vickie inquired, "How's Piper?"

"I'm not sayin' nothin'"

"Oh, c'mon Kirbs," Sam begged, "Tell us."

"No, mind your own business."

"Kirbs, ya gotta tell us at some point." Holly added, the alcohol making her New Jersey accent thicker.

"Alright, fine, but don't tell anyone." I warned

They nodded in agreement and let me continue.

"When we came back to New York, we started dating and one thing led to another and we 'made love' but regardless of all that, I think he's the one."

"So, you'll marry him?"

"If he asks, Vic, if he asks."

Holly butted in, "I need to get you around other men, you know, to see if Piper's the real deal."

She took me by the arm and dragged me, drink in hand, over to a gaggle of men, all of whom looked like they were either construction workers or American football players. Holly let go of my arm and sat on one of the guys laps, whispering something I couldn't hear before getting up and walking off.

I felt like a piece of meat being thrown to a pack of tigers, it didn't take long for one of them to take the drink from my hand, place it on the table and lead me to the dancefloor.

Now, you must know, I'm not one for dancing, I'll sway to a relaxed beat or head bang along to some rock but, dancing with someone who I don't know in a provocative way isn't my thing, but without hesitation this guy started hitting on me and trying to get up close and personal.

It took all of my mental strength not to sucker punch the guy in the face and walk back to the hotel, I held out for as long as I could. hours passed without me realising and I had gotten quite tipsy, Vickie walked me back to the hotel and dumped me on the bed in the pitch black of the room, closing the door behind her and her footsteps quickly faded out of hearing range.

The next day (25th January 1984) was much like the previous, get up, morning routine, grab some coffee, wait to see if I had any matches booked, hear nothing from Damien, go out with the girls that night for some 'fun' but to me that 'fun' was ever so slightly turning into heart-breaking torture.

Any time I danced with these random guys in clubs, I wanted to be able to slow dance with Rod, to hold him close to me as the music played in the background. I didn't get as drunk as the night before and got back slightly earlier, trying to call Roddy to hear his voice, but he didn't pick up. I went to sleep alone again and had a nightmare once again.

I woke up on the morning of the Twenty-Sixth to the sound of the door opening and closing, hearing a distinctly Scottish voice whisper out the phrase 'Mo Chridhe'.

"Rod, is that you?"

"I didn't mean to wake ya, it's just, well," His voice faltered, as if he didn't know what to say, "Billie stopped me in the hall and told me everything." He sounded hurt.

"I tried to call ya. I tried to be the first to let you know what we had done." I got up and took my sweat-stained shirt off, tossing it to the floor and heading to the bathroom, still half asleep.

"Ya did? Ya went out and danced with strangers two nights in a row while I was gone and thought a phone call could patch things up?"

That set me off, I rushed out of the bathroom to confront him, "I fucking hated doing it! Both times! I wanted to reel back and sucker punch those bastards in the face! Roderick Piper, would you fucking listen to me! I am your girlfriend! I am YOUR fucking woman! Would you just fu-"

A rough but passionate kiss broke the stingingly lonely silence from him, his hands caressing my arms and holding me close. I hadn't realised I was crying until then, I hadn't realised he had let a few tears slip himself until he pulled away and wiped his eyes.

"I'm sorry I ever brought it up. I know ya wouldn't do anything without a good reason and I'm so, so sorry I left without telling ya before I did."

I sat myself down on the edge of the bed, wiping the tears from my eyes and feeling Rod put his arm over my shoulder.

"Schultz told me to buy you roses, ya know. An' I told him I didn't think ya liked roses, I told him that I thought ya would like chrysanthemums instead."

I let out a small 'uh huh' and Rod continued.

"I also told him that when we got back I was gonna take you out for some blueberry waffles and a hazelnut cappuccino, cause I know how ya like those an' we could be together and just relax an-"

"Roddy?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Can you dance?"

"I'm not a great dancer, why?"

"Well, can you just sway to the rhythm of a song?"

"With you, absolutely."

"Thank you, f'anwylyd."

"Anytime, mo chridhe."

He kissed my cheek and my temple, whispering out a gentle 'I'm sorry' before using his other hand to make me face him and kissing me gently but lovingly. He got up, pulling me off the bed and turning the clock radio on and increasing the volume.

"And now, a big hit from last year, this is Big Country with 'In A Big Country'."

'I've never seen you look like this without a reason'

Rod twirled me around in his arms, a smirk already on his face.

'Another promise fallen through'

I could hear Rod mumbling the words in unison with the radio.

'Another season passes by you'

He twirled me back around, stepping closer and intertwining his fingers with mine and curving his other arm around my back.

'I never took the smile away from anybody's face'

Rod had stopped mumbling the words and started humming along.

'And that's a desperate way to look'

The sweet smile on Roddy's face made me smile lovingly in return.

'For someone who is still a child'

He cleared his throat, spinning me away from him before pulling me close to his chest.

"In a big country dreams stay with you" Rod sang in unison with the radio.

"Like a lover's voice fires the mountainside" I joined in.

'Stay alive, here we go'

"I thought that pain and truth were things that really mattered" We sang in unison with the radio.

"But you can't stay here with every single hope you had shattered"

"I'm not expecting to grow flowers in a desert"

'But I can live and breathe'

Rod misstepped and fell backwards onto the bed with me landing on his lap.

'And see the sun in wintertime'

"Are ya alright Roddy?"

'In a big country dreams stay with you'

"I'm fine, sweetheart, are you okay?"

'Like a lover's voice fires the mountainside'

"I'm okay. Everything's fine in the world again."

'Stay alive'

I stood up and helped Roddy off the bed, turning the radio down slightly and humming before singing along.

"In a big country dreams stay with you"

Rod soon joined in, going back to a simple two step and trying not to stumble again.

"Like a lover's voice fires the mountainside"

"Stay alive"

"So take that look out of here it doesn't fit you"

"Because it's happened doesn't mean you've been discarded"

"Pull up your head off the floor, come up screaming"

A knock at the door quickly silenced the two of us and Rod turned the radio off completely, giving me a quick kiss on the lips and walking over to answer the door. Upon seeing the frame of the guy leaning against the wall, I sighed heavily and Rod looked between me and this nobody.

"Hey, I was told this was Miss Kay's room, who are you, her brother?"

"Wrong, Idiot. I'm her husband."

I wanted to interrupt Roddy but held my tongue, trusting that he knew what he was doing.

"Yeah, right, small fry, and I'm the Pope, move outta the way." the guy's mood shifted from confusion to anger.

"No really," Roddy pressed, his voice getting more gravelly with rage, "I'm her husband ya slovenly low life, now fuck off before I hurt ya."

The guy got further into Roddy's face, "What are you gonna do, limp dick."

Rod smirked, "Limp dick, huh," He mocked before poking the guy in the eyes, "Bye-Bye, asshole," He finished, slamming the door in the guy's face.

We could both hear the sound of the guy saying 'fuck that' and running down the hall.

"'I'm her husband'?" I raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Well I'm not gonna say 'She's my girlfriend'. Being your husband has more impact."

"Ya could've just called me over and kissed me, Roddy."

"Who was that guy?"

"Some fuck from one of the nights you weren't here. Ugly motherfucker too, surprised he knew where to find me…" I trailed off, knowing exactly who had told him where I was, "That little Greek bitch."

I stormed my way up to the door, only being stopped by Roddy mere seconds before I could leave the room.

"Woah, woah. Calm down there, Giantess. We don't want a massacre now, do we?"

I breathed out a heavy sigh and Rod pulled me into a hug.

"C'mere baby girl," He rubbed his hand up and down my back to soothe me, "Calm down baby, I know it may be aggravating to have someone ya trust try to split up a good thing, but just calm down."

"But she told them where we, or at least I am, Rod. I can't trust her after that. Especially after her trying to set me up with one of the ugliest motherfuckers I've ever seen."

"What about me?" He said pulling away and sitting on the edge of the bed

"Well, you're," I stopped, searching my mind for the right words, "Well, you're just, you are so handsome. You've got the most amazing blue-hazel eyes, and your hair is such a rich brown, and you're built, y'know, your musculature makes you look strong but not intimidating, however that may just be a giant to normal person thing. Oh, and your voice is calming to me, except when you're cutting a promo. I mean I would object to your choice in shirts, but only because the idea of other women seeing how muscular you are through the way your shirts cling to your body gets me a little pissed off."

"I make you get jealous, really?" he teased.

"Don't you dare." I warned, trying to stop him from aggravating me further.

"Does the idea of women fantasising about me gets you riled up with fury?"

"Rod, don't do this."

"Does the idea of me posing with another woman in my arms anger you?"

"Roddy, shut up."

"How about the idea of me kissing another woman while drunk?"

"Roderick. You shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you."

"What if I laid on the beach with just a towel coverin' my crotch, in full view of a bunch of ladies, how does that make you feel."

"I warned you, three times now, don't you go getting me angry, boyo. You'll see how vengeful I can be, Roddy," I pondered for a moment before changing into a knee-length amber coloured dress along with my spiked black heels, my leather jacket and a thin layer of apricot scented lip gloss and headed out, "Bye Roderick."

"Wait no, baby, come back."

I closed the door and fast-walked down the corridor, heading towards the stairwell, hearing Roddy open the door just as I started down the stairs.

He caught up with me about five minutes later, while I was waiting outside, handing me my wallet and pressing a kiss to my cheek, before whispering in my ear.

"I'm sorry I got you jealous, now can we please go out to somewhere, nice."

"If you're so sorry, you won't try that trick again, right?"

"Oh absolutely, I don't want you to do that again."

I kissed him and started walking down the street, Piper's hand just above my ass and his plethora of sweet nothings once again flowing from his lips. We headed out for the evening and by the time we got back to the hotel, a now drunk Roddy laid down and passed out before I even got the chance to kiss him goodnight.

END OF DANCING IN THE DARK or JEALOUS RAGE

#wrestling fic #Lucifarians #Spotify

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ninjago-monster-au · 4 years

Note

Hi again! Relating to the One-Shots, you do Jaya, right? (at least that’s what I remember) If so, Jaya angst, perhaps? 👀

>:3 If you insist...

(It got pretty long, and I might’ve turned it into hurt/comfort accidentally. Opps)

Heart to Heart

“Nya!” Jay screamed, as he watched his best friend and childhood crush fall to the floor in slow motion. An ugly splotch of emerald green venom stained the waist of her silk wedding dress, matching perfectly with the substance that covered the dart lodged in Nadekhan’s left arm.

The kobold sprinted to her side, taking her up into his little arms. The siren lay curled in the dirt, shaking like she had a fever. Her beautiful turquoise eyes fluttered softly as she smiled up at him, utterly accepting of her fate. “Oh Nya, no, no no no. This can’t be happening. You can’t be…” He stuttered, trying and failing to wipe the poison from her waist. Nya just continued to smile at him, whispering something he couldn’t catch before falling limp.

“No…” He sobbed, cradling her face like it was the last thing on earth. “You can’t be…I wish...I wish no one had ever found that lamp…” He whispered, tears clouding his vision.

The djin stared at them from afar, feeling the venom sap at his life force from his arm. He sighed. “Your wish is yours to keep…”

Jay awoke with a start, hitting his head on the bunk above him and prompting a startled snore from Kai. Taking a moment to steady his frantic heart, he looked around the room, confused. Weren’t they on the pirate ship? What about Nadekhan? What about-

“Nya!” He spoke out loud, voice quiet and raspy.

Cole shifted in his sleep as the master of lightning threw the covers off of himself, shifting the bedframe and sending a sprinkle of dust down on Zane, who was powered down below him. Tiptoeing across the room as fast as he could so not to wake any of them, Jay sneaked one last glance behind at his brothers before running down the hall towards Nya’s room.

He knocked, heart racing and breathing quick. No response. If he had Cole’s strength, he would’ve yanked the door off its hinges, but he didn’t so he settled to opening it like a normal person instead.

No one was there.

He checked her clamshell bed, and in her closet, and even out the window, but the siren was nowhere to be found. By this point, Jay was kinda freaking out, as he leaned up against the end table to steady himself, and knocked a piece of paper to the floor.

Confused and still hyperventilating, Jay picked up the slip. There was writing on it. Nya’s writing. His eyes skimmed over the note, before he dropped it and ran out of the room, towards the docking bay.

The note fluttered to the floor once more, lying dejected on the tile.

“Dear Ninja,

I’ve gone out to sea for a little swim. I’ll be back before dinner, I just need to be alone for a while. Kai, try not to burn the ship down while I’m gone, Jay please stay out of Zane’s chocolate.

Love, Nya

PS. Because I know you’re going to ask me: no, Kai, I’m not going anywhere dangerous. Just swimming out to the rock in the bay.”

~~~

Nya liked swimming. Not just because it was the only form of transportation that nature had given her, but because it was calming, serene, predictable. She knew that if she moved her tail this way, she would move that way. And if she pushed her arm right, she would turn left. Swimming was easier than emotions. Swimming could both put distance between her and her problems, and drown out the voices in her head with the sound of rushing water.

Swimming didn’t require thought. It didn’t require contemplation and worry, or hours of speculation. Swimming didn’t need her to spend days with a knot of anxiety in her throat, wondering if she should talk to him or not.

Salty water whistled past her ears, sending bubbles spiraling into her slipstream. Her tail thrust side to side, shoving water aside and propelling her forward. She didn’t know where she was, or even how long she had been out. All she knew is that she needed to get away from the Bounty as fast as possible.

How had he done it? She wondered, shaking her head and swishing her long, feathery hair through the clear, cold water. She remembered it all, the ships, the floating islands...the feeling of hopelessness as the venom slowly shut down her senses...Jay’s heartbroken and guilty face, crying over her dying body…

She shook her head again. Now was not the time to think on such things.

The surface shattered into a billion pieces as she broke it, only to meld back together seamlessly around her in the way that only water can. Without the sea to obscure them, tears dribbled down her cheeks, mixed with the saltwater that dripped from her hair. The Bounty was nowhere in sight, only calm, blue seas and clear skies. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a rock jutting out of the sea, smooth, and eroded by the waves.

Nya hoisted herself up onto the stone, flopping backwards and staring upwards towards the sky. The salty air refreshed her gills, and a warm breeze had begun to blow. Before she knew what was happening, she had fallen into a light doze, which soon segwayed into a deep sleep.

“Nya!”

“Nya! Come on, wake up!”

Nya jolted awake with a small squeal, throwing herself into a sitting position. Jay sat next to her on the rock, with his clawed fingers sparking. A small wooden boat bobbed on the waves below, rocking gently. The little kobold smiled sheepishly, “Sorry for shocking you, but you wouldn’t wake up, and I thought…”

He trailed off, gaze dropping to the floor, but he didn’t have to finish. They both knew what he was about to say.

Nya sighed, putting a finger under his chin and lifting it up until they were eye to eye. “I know, I’m sorry.”

He smiled shakily, and took her webbed hand in his, chuckling softly. “Did you have to swim so far out? My arms are killing me. Why did you even swim all the way out here?”

Nya looked away, but kept her hand in his. “I..I needed to get away...Process some stuff…”

Jay nodded solemnly, gazing out towards the sea. “Yeah, me too. You wanna process together?”

“Sure.”

They had a good conversation. They both got some pretty heavy things off of their chests, and grew stronger for it. The entire chat lasted about an hour, as the tide came in and the waves steadily grew stronger against the rock. Storm clouds brewed on the horizon, covering their spot in shade. At last, Jay looked up at the sky. “So now that we’ve talked about this stuff, we gotta figure out if we should tell the others.”

Nya pulled her tail closer to her chest, the hand that wasn’t entwined with Jay’s combing through her hair. “I say we don’t, until we absolutely have to.”

The kobold nodded. “Agreed. It looks like a storm is coming in, we should probably get back before Kai gets all big brother on me.”

She smiled, laughing and pulling herself closer to the edge of the rock. “He’s gonna do that either way. Come on.”

Now sometime between his arrival and the tide coming in, Jay’s little boat had been washed out to sea, leaving Nya in charge of swimming him home. This was fine though, Jay was really light.

And plus, Nya loved swimming.

#ninjago masters of spinjitzu #ninjago jay #ninjago nya #jaya #ninjago au #ninjago #monster au #monsters #monster #one shot #writing prompt #oh the weather outside is frightful #yes that is my hurt/comfort tag #ninjago nadakhan #djin #siren #kobold

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johnny-and-dora · 5 years

Text

hold me in this wild, wild world

for @meepmorpperaltiago, who asked for “engagement” and “forbidden love au with a happy ending” as part of the @b99fandomevents summer 2019 fic exchange! i hope you like it!

"It takes every ounce of willpower he has left not to kiss her like it’s their last night on earth. Despite the odds, he refuses to kiss her like he’s saying goodbye."

or, a forbidden love/royalty/fairytale au in which jake comes up with an alternative solution to amy being forced into an arranged marriage with the most boring man in the seven kingdoms. read on ao3

He’s late, as usual.

Jake’s foray into the forest for their secret meetings can usually be best described as a leisurely amble – tonight, it’s forgone for a sort of jog as he hurries along the narrow dirt path he knows like the back of his hand, ignoring his embarrassing shortness of breath and the sharp stitch in his side.

It’s strange, the light feeling in his chest – he can’t tell exactly what’s causing it. It’s probably eagerness to finally be alone with Amy after weeks of having to watch her politely but reluctantly spend most of her precious free time in the company of the most boring man in the seven kingdoms. It could be something more akin to dread at the ominous urgency of her message, evident even in Rosa’s deadpan delivery, telling him to get to their clearing as soon as he could.

Above all, he thinks it’s desire – this endless, empty yearning he’s been carrying around with him like an anchor, a powerful heavy longing to hear her melodic laughter or hold her close or even just to have anything more than an apologetic grimace and a tiny soft smile in his direction when she can be sure no-one is looking to get him through the day.

He thought it would be less painful seeing her with Teddy secure in the knowledge that she wasn’t interested – she’d spent most of their last meeting, a stolen moment behind the stables, reassuring Jake that he had absolutely nothing to worry about. It had helped, for a while, but he couldn’t help the ugly jealousy twisting his insides up in knots whenever the prince so much as respectfully shook her hand.

He quickly waves off any more invasive thoughts of Teddy and quickens his pace - whatever this light feeling is, it’s a powerful motivator, and it’s not long before he can hear the trusted babble of the brook which tells him he’s not far from their clearing.

She’s waiting for him, of course – her back is turned and it’s the perfect opportunity to sneak up on her, except he’s too busy being mesmerised by the gentle curl of her shiny dark hair, the way it elegantly cascades down her back. Amy only wears it down here, for him; a flicker of warmth starts to glow in his chest and for the first time all week he feels himself finally relax.

She’s illuminated by the hues of the golden hour, liquid dusk pouring through the trees. A soft halo of light encompasses her almost completely – it’s as if, just for a moment, the forest can appreciate how heavenly she always appears to him. If he feels a thousand times lighter here, he can’t imagine what it must be like for her – how sacred this time they can steal away together is, away from rules and responsibilities and everyone.

He’s escaping throwing away mouldy bread and blowing off work to play card games with Charles – she’s escaping a remarkable life of activism, royal politics, charity work and fancy banquets that he has to cater for. Jake still can’t quite believe after all this time that he’s somehow lucky enough to know her, let alone be with her.

Neither of them care particularly for the crown; here, with him, Amy can be truly herself. She’s pretty awesome as a princess, but as a person she is truly, absolutely radiant in every way he can think of. He clears his throat, soft with unadulterated affection – there are no facades here, no formalities, and he craves her gentle smile more than he ever has before.

The broken, pained look on her tear stained face as she turns towards him practically turns him to ice.

He’s by her side at an instant – she buries her sobs into his chest as he instinctively wraps his arms around her, panic flooding his entire body. He hurries to ask her what’s wrong - she shakes her head so violent he quickly switches to whispering soothing words of comfort, trying to guide her breathing. It only pulls her deeper into hysteria, so instead he strokes her hair and lets her cry herself out.

When she finally looks up at him, he notices two small stray braids in her hair and moves to gently brush them out, affection overpowering everything else. Her eyes are these dark, intense pools that he’d get completely lost in if she’d look at him for more than a second at a time - She moves out of his embrace only to produce some fancy embroidered silk handkerchief from a pocket and dry her tears, averting his gaze as if embarrassed of her outburst.

(He wants nothing more than to tell her that she’s the most beautiful woman in the world even when she has snot dripping from her nose, but he senses now might not be the right time.)

“S-sorry.” She hiccups, taking slow deep breaths; for the first time he notices that she’s trembling and instantly shrugs off his cloak, draping it around her without another word. It’s comically oversized; in another lifetime he would have laughed, but now it’s an effort to even speak with the fear clawing up his insides.

“Ames, what’s wrong? What happened?” She bites her lip, looking down at her clasped hands – her nails, usually pristinely manicured as per professional convention, have been bitten half to death. Something is very, very wrong.

“It’s…It’s Teddy.” She finally manages to croak, and he fears the worst, clenching his fists – something dark and angry must flicker across his face because her eyes widen and she’s quick to elaborate. “Nothing, nothing like that, he’s barely touched me the whole time he’s been here, I thought he got the message but he-“

She takes another shuddering, ragged breath, attempting to compose herself. The light feeling has vanished completely, only to be replaced with heavy, sinking dread as he fears the worst.

“He’s going to propose to me tomorrow morning.” She says, so quietly and so small he can barely hear. “And…and my parents say I have to accept. For the future of the kingdom.”

His stomach drops, and Jake just sinks.

It’s not like they weren’t expecting this – deep down, he’s been dreading since he first kissed her, fearing that this kind of happiness can’t last, knowing that they can’t sneak around for forever. As he’s fallen deeper and deeper in love with Amy, it has become harder and harder to just compartmentalise, to forget, to keep moving forward without fear of what’s in their future. To wonder, heart heavy, if they could ever have one.

He just expected it to happen so soon – in his heart, he’s always naively believed that they still had time, that they never would have to acknowledge the possibility that they might be it for one another and all the terrifying consequences that might bring.

The Santiago royal family has a reputation to uphold, and Jake’s pretty sure that he doesn’t quite fit the image that they’re going for. He’s always been sure that Amy’s fairy-tale happily ever after isn’t designed to have him in it; but knowing that and having to accept that are two very different things. Expecting this doesn’t make it any less like having his heart physically ripped out of his chest.

Nothing could have prepared him for falling in love with the smartest, most determined and most caring woman he’s ever known. Nothing could have prepared him for this kind of pain, ice cold and burning, apocalyptic heartbreak crashing down all at once.

Worst of all, nothing could have ever prepared him for the overwhelming anguish of seeing the same pain reflected back on Amy’s face.

“I won’t do it. They can throw me out or lock me up, I don’t care, I won’t-“

“-Ames, we always knew this could happen-“

“So? That doesn’t make this stupid patriarchal bullshit tradition any less fucked up!” Her anger startles both him and a few nearby nesting birds – he notes a flash of regret in her eyes before her face hardens into a picture of determination.

“I love you. Not Teddy, not anyone else they can set me up with no matter how many troops they’ve commanded or banquets they’ve organised. You. I’m not going to...I could never…” Her lip trembles and he wraps her up in his arms again, desperately trying to remain calm for her sake when all he wants to do is disappear into the forest with her and never come back again.

He’s quiet, for a long time; all that surrounds them is the steady, boundless flow of the nearby stream, crickets chirping at their feet, and the muffled sound of occasional shuddering sobs, slowly petering out as the sun begins to set, revealing muted hues of pink and orange.

Rarely has he ever been rendered speechless – as they find themselves sat together on the mossy ground, resting against the oldest tree in the clearing, hands almost defiantly intertwined, he can’t even begin to vocalise all the things he wants to say. He just wants her.

“Run away with me?”

“Amy…” He tries to be gentle but he just sounds tired, somehow a thousand years older – he feels like the slightest push might crumble him into dust. She places both of her hands in his and he squeezes them on instinct, never wanting to let go.

“I’m serious. Please, I’m not going to just leave you, I can’t…” She trails off again, a fresh wave of tears threatening to consume her. It strikes fear into his heart more than anything else - he’s never seen her like this. He’s comforted her before – he’s found himself paralysed by her searching gaze many times before, but he’s never once found this kind of hollow desperation there.

She’s always calm, always composed in the face of a crisis, the poster child for what a leader should be. Her determination, her fierceness, her outright stubbornness comes as naturally to her as breathing – more than that, they’re some of the endless reasons why (despite his best efforts) he couldn’t help but fall in love with her. Water is wet, the sky is blue, and Amy never runs away from anything.

It occurs to him that, maybe for the first time, she doesn’t know what to do – she’s as lost and hopeless as he is, and that only breaks his heart further.

“I gathered up as much old jewellery and coins as I could find in my room.” Amy takes a weighty velvet pouch from her pocket, shaking it to prompt a jingle as if he needs some kind of proof. “It’s not much, but it’ll be enough to get us over the border. If we left tonight we could be halfway there before anyone even notices I’m gone.” She’s misread his silence for uncertainty, for lack of faith in her - he sighs, long and hard, forces his eyes shut as if to visualise the right words in his mind.

The truth is, he’s thought about them running away together more often than he’d like to openly admit. The prospect of a normal, simple life far away from everything keeping them apart has proved too tempting not to indulge in at least once in a while, more than ever lately since Teddy arrived and they’ve had to be more careful than ever.

He’s got nothing to lose, really – sure, he’d miss his mom, and Charles, probably Rosa, but they could send letters, maybe even visit after a few months. He could bake and Amy could write and they could have a peaceful, idyllic happily ever after they can design for themselves. The truth is, he’d be willing to give up everything he has now for Amy in a heartbeat.

He just can’t let her do the same for him.

“Amy Santiago, I would run away with you anytime, anyplace – but not today.”

“Why not?” Her brows are furrowed so severely fear strikes his heart again for an entirely different reason, but he presses on, allowing a second of regret that they’re not halfway to the border right now before it swallows him up completely.

“Ames, I love you but I can’t let you throw away your entire life just for me – I’m not worth it, I can’t ask you to leave everything behind-“

“- But I don’t care about the royalty-“

“I know, I know. I was talking about your family – your brothers, your parents, Rosa…” She softens a little at that and he takes the opportunity to take her hand and squeeze it. “It’s more than that - you’re a natural leader, Amy. You love what you do and you’re incredible at doing it. You’re too kind and good and brilliant to not do what you do, to not help everyone you can.”

He half expects her to yell at him, throw the bag in his face, storm off into the night – instead, she smiles. It’s small, desperately sad, but it’s something. She reaches up to cup his face and presses a long, languid kiss to his lips – it takes every ounce of willpower he has left not to kiss her like it’s their last night on earth. Despite the odds, he refuses to kiss her like he’s saying goodbye.

“I don’t deserve you.” She says, so softly he can barely hear. He shakes his head – it’s something he’s said to her many, many times before. She’s never once accepted it, and he’s not about to start.

“You deserve the world, Ames. And we both know you’d be terrible at a normal life. No big important galas to organise or constitutions to update? You’d be bored to death by the end of the week.” She exhales a shaky laugh and he nudges her playfully, trying to regain some sense of balance despite his entire universe being shifted off its axis.

For a brief moment, no more tears will fall, no more anger or sense of cosmic injustice seems to coarse through his veins; instead there’s only peace as she nestles into his shoulder and he presses a kiss to the top of her head. It could be minutes, hours, maybe centuries before either of them move again; he’s not sure. All he knows is that whatever time they have left together is far too short.

“So, what do we do now?”

“Watch the sunset and make out and then I’ll go get super drunk and set all the horses from Teddy’s carriage free as an epic revenge prank?” He’s only half joking. “What do you think we should do?”

“I don’t know. If I had more time, I could try and find a loophole, or organise a protest, get a petition together to abolish this stupid tradition once and for all, but…“ She presses her lips together, suddenly lost in thought. He can’t help but feel an almost cruel, blinding twist of affection at the thought of finding someone who’s willing to stage a nationwide protest just to be with him.

For the first time all evening, the tiniest spark of hope begins to flicker and glow.

He’s been thinking about their future a lot, lately; while most of his nightmares feed and grow on his fear on them being forced apart, there’s one other daydream that he’s been having more than ever. He’s had his grandmother’s ring tucked safely away for a long time now. And he’s never really believed in magic, but he thinks if there was any time and place for a tiny miracle then it would probably be here, in this clearing, with her.

He takes a deep breath.

“I…might have an idea.”

“What is it?” She sits up straight and gazes at him attentively as if she’s ready to take notes; he loves her with every fibre of his being.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, okay? Because this…you deserve to have a choice, Ames, and I don’t want you to think I’m doing this just because I don’t want you to be with him, it’s because I really want to and actually I’ve been thinking about it for a while now even though I know it’s still pretty early, that’s why I didn’t want to say-“

“Spit it out, Peralta.” She cuts his nervous ramblings short, and all the exasperated affection in her voice feels like coming home.

“Right, yeah, okay. Uh, Teddy’s proposing tomorrow morning, right?”

“Yes?”

“So…so what if I, uh, proposed first?” He can’t help the grin that slowly blossoms across his face, even as the momentum of the idea hits them both full force. “Beat him to it, y’know. Can’t marry him if you’re already engaged to someone else, right?” He laughs nervously, already feeling an obscene amount of adrenaline pumping through his body.

She’s silent, obviously stunned – a thick cloud of panic and self-doubt starts to overwhelm him and he instantly starts to backtrack. “Sorry, it’s probably a stupid idea, and like I said it’s absolutely your choice, 100%, but I really love you and-“

“Okay.” She says it slowly, all strong piercing gaze that slowly but surely turns to a warm smile and he thinks his soul might have actually left his body for a second because holy shit, okay, he’s actually going to do this instead of just daydreaming about it whenever he decorates a wedding cake or practising with his grandmother’s ring in the bath.

“Okay?” He asks, surprised by the complete disbelief in his voice; in his searching gaze, he finds the first real hope he’s had all day reflected in her eyes.

“Yeah. Yes! That…that actually could work.” Colour has returned to her face for the first time all evening - her smile is as bright as the sun now, brighter and livelier and so overwhelmingly beautiful. She reigns herself in after a second, however, concern washing over her face, as calm and considerate and Amy as ever.

“But…everyone would know. Are you sure you want that? I can’t ask you to give up your life either…”

“I don’t care.” He grins earnestly, then actually takes a second to think about it. “I mean…obviously, it’s going to be weird. And I know that it’s a huge change, but…” He takes her hand. “I can’t lose you. And I don’t want to sneak around anymore.”

“Neither do I.” Her eyes are crinkled with soft joy

“Okay then. Let’s, uh, get engaged!” He springs up on his feet, enthusiastically pulling her up with him with very little grace. They share a bout of half hysterical, blissful laughter as he gets down on one knee, still holding both her hands in his.

“I, uh, don’t have a ring on me.” He realises, slightly sheepish as her laugh continues to float like bubbles into the summer sunset sky.

“What would you do without me, huh?” She shakes her head, eyes still sparkling with amusement as she quickly drops his hands, digging through her velvet pouch until she finds an ornate gold ring that’s probably worth at least a full year of his salary.

He feels a second of sharp, hot embarrassment, familiar fears of inadequacy that is instantly dulled by the proud beam on her face as she places it into his palm. Of course she’s more prepared for this than he is – which sparks another idea.

“Wait…how about you do this?”

“Are you asking me to propose to you?” She raises an eyebrow, but he holds his ground.

“…Maybe.” He shrugs. “Screw stupid patriarchal bullshit tradition, right?”

The smile on her face is so wide he’s worried it might split her face in two; Jake silently vows there and then to dedicate the rest of his days to doing whatever he can to earn that smile from her.

“Definitely. Yes. Okay, um, let me think of what I want to say first.” He gives her back the ring and studies her fondly as she loses herself deep in thought – he can tell that she’s just itching for her notebook and quill to at least structure an outline first, and it just lights him up inside.

She is so consistent, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that she doesn’t really need to say anything at all. He already knows what his answer will be.

“Okay. I’m ready.” She shrugs off his cloak and kneels down opposite him – it’s dizzying. He’s still not sure that this isn’t one big fever dream, but if there’s even the slightest chance that joy like this is real, he’s willing to take it.

“I love you.” She begins; so soft and sincere and already perfect. “I love how you’ve always seen me for me, and not who I’m supposed to be. I love how you always remind me what actually matters. I love how you’ve shown me how to have a life outside of the one that’s always been designed for me.”

She takes a steading, shaky breath; he thinks I love you I love you I love you over and over and over again.

“You have this incredibly kind, good, wonderful heart. You love openly and unashamedly, and I want to love you that same way for the rest of my life, if that’s okay with you.”

He laughs, and it’s shaky too; he can actually feel all the emotion welling up inside of him like it’s all physically lodged in his throat. “It definitely is.”

“Cool.” She beams through tears; this time, her eyes never once leave his. “I want you and no-one else. This has always been my choice to make, and I choose you. Will you marry me?”

He kisses her intently then, unable to hold himself back any longer; he pulls her as close as he can, spinning her around, and it’s joy, the light feeling in his chest – pure unadulterated ecstasy that seems to crackle in the air around them, overwhelming wonder that this kind of happiness can last.

“Is that a yes?” She breathes as they finally break apart, eyes still shut, foreheads still pressed together. Even the rolling waves of the ocean would part for them, now, he’s sure of it. In this moment, the seven kingdoms would crumble and fall before they could be forced apart again.

“God, yes.” He says, kissing her again; the stars are watching fondly by now, and they’ll allow this tiny miracle, give their blessing to the ring that is comically far too small for Jake’s finger and yet also somehow completely perfect. He murmurs it against her lips, then into the top of her head as they hold each other, again and again and again until the word loses all meaning altogether.

He’s late home that night, too – but the light feeling in his chest never falters.

***

She’s late. It worries him.

Only by a minute or two, not long enough to justify sounding the castle alarms or bursting dramatically into her chambers. Barely enough to even be worried, and yet still enough to get him pacing frantically up and down the corridor outside the library – Amy’s favourite spot in the entire castle.

It has the most beautiful view of the lake and the forest beyond it; amongst a maelstrom of other feelings, he has a yearning to just drop everything and run out there now. The only thing keeping him anchored to castle grounds is the deep rooted fear of Amy herself probably executing him herself if he didn’t show up to this dinner.

(She’s been planning every intricate detail of this event for weeks; all he has to do is wear this ridiculous fancy outfit and not embarrass himself in front of her entire family. Easier said than done, especially as most of said family don’t exactly approve of their engagement.)

It’s love for Amy too, of course, that’s always kept him anchored; it’s why the familiar click-clack of her heels on the old wooden floor coming ever closer elicits such a fresh breath of relief.

“Hey, you wanted to see me?” She says, or at least that’s what he thinks she’s says; when he finally lays eyes on her Jake is slightly too busy being overwhelmed at the glowing presence before him to process anything else. He realises his mouth is hanging open a few seconds too late and promptly closes it, finding a quiet delight in the unmistakable blush on her cheeks.

“Oh, wow. You look beautiful.” She does; her ballgown is an sophisticated shade of dark red that compliments her perfectly, her skirt almost creating the illusion of floating as it wafts behind her. She’s all soft, practically lit up, the epitome of poise and grace – best of all, her hair, usually formally tied back in tight, complicated braids, falls loose in perfect curls that elegantly frame her face.

She looks like an oil painting, a masterpiece flawlessly sculpted and come to life - he is the luckiest man on earth.

“Thank you.” She smiles, shyly at first, before her grin broadens to mirror his own. “You look beautiful too.”

“Thanks.” He pulls a face, tugs at the stiff, almost suffocating collar of his fancy velvet cloak. “Kinda feels like I’m playing dress up.”

The brief respite of being completely mesmerised by his fiancée is quickly over; as if she can sense his shift in mood Amy steps closer to him, placing a comforting hand over his heart which he instinctively holds close.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

He clenches his free fist, anxiety running white hot. “I feel like…it’s stupid.” He wants to run away more than ever, but her searching expression tells him she won’t let this go.

“What if I use the wrong fork?” He finally blurts, brain running wild with the conspiracy theory that this engagement dinner is really just a golden shining opportunity for Amy’s family to poke and prod at everything that’s ever made him feel not good enough for her.

She furrows her brow in confusion; he sighs, running his hand through his hair and then instantly worrying that he’s messed that up too. “What if I don’t use the fancy napkins correctly or I stain this fancy outfit or I don’t address the guests with their correct titles or-“

“- Jake –“

“- I just…don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t want your family to hate me more than they already do, and I know it doesn’t matter because the only thing that matters is what you think but…I just want to be…” He sighs again, frustration making his words dense and unusually heavy – this is a burden he’s been carrying around for a long time. “I just want to be good enough.”

“Jake.” She says again, more firmly than last time – when he forces himself to meet her gaze, there is already infinite comfort in her reassuring smile.

“You know why I’ve put so much effort into this stupid dinner?” He shakes his head. “It’s because I want to give my family the opportunity to see just how amazing you are.”

“You’re not going to mess this up – even if you do, you said it yourself. It doesn’t matter.” She pauses for emphasis, gently squeezing his hand. “Whatever happens, I’m going to be beside you the whole time. My family are going to have to accept that sooner or later, whether they approve or not.”

Her eyes glitter with familiar unshakeable determination and he feels his heart swell with gratitude. Water is wet, the sky is blue and Amy loves him. It doesn’t matter if he’s never sure of anything else again – that one certainty is more than enough to silence the doubts roaring in his chest.

“You’re amazing.” His tone is nothing but reverent; she blushes again.

“So are you. And half of my brothers already love you anyway. Manny’s practically desperate for your autograph.” They share a warm smile; for a second, he indulges in their own little bubble of happiness, letting the rest of the world fall away. He can’t wait to be married to her.

“Oh, wait.” He smacks his palm against his forehead, eyes wide. “I nearly forgot – uh, hold on a second.” He fumbles with the clasp of his cloak, undoing it to hastily reach for the ring he has safely tucked away in the breast pocket. He produces it with a theatrical flourish, and her eyes light up.

“Is that-“

“-My grandmother’s, yeah.” He grins brightly before gently slipping it on to her finger. She holds her hand up to the light to admire it properly; he’s sure it’s tiny glinting diamond barely compares to what she’s used to, but he hopes the sentimental value gives it more weight.

“I know it’s small, but-“

“It’s beautiful.” She says earnestly, quelling his fears yet again. “I love it. Thank you.” She cups his jaw and kisses him softly – the cool metal against his skin makes him smile against her lips, a twin to the ornate gold ring hanging around his neck.

“She would have really loved you.” He says, sincere; she quietly glows with pride and they share another smile, this one rudely interrupted by the chiming of the clock tower outside. Amy’s eyes widen and she gives him an apologetic grimace, groaning in frustration.

“Oh no, I have to meet with the Ambassador about those new trading routes…”

“It’s fine.” He says, then laughs when she still looks concerned, waving her off. “Go! I’ll still be here when you get back, I promise.” No matter how much he loves the forest, he has no desire to escape there now that he’s found something so much more liberating.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” She frowns, glancing at the clock again - for once his certainty refuses to waver.

“Of course I will. I’ve got you.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“See you at eight.” He salutes playfully; she rolls her eyes and kisses him quick before striding off to go save the world.

As he watches her go, no ache of longing or yearning follows - he smiles to himself before heading down to the kitchen to see what samples of tonight’s feast he can persuade Charles to give him. It’s freeing, the ring around his neck - he doesn’t need to worry about what’s in their future or when the next precious second they can steal away together will be.

They’ve got all the time in the world.

#b99 summer 2019 fic exchange #b99fandomevents #b99 #b99 fic #jake x amy #peraltiago #my writing #i am...a puddle #hope you enjoy <3

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iamanartichoke · 6 years

Note

Ok, trigger warning, and I understand if you want to skip this one, but... Loki being caught by Thor self harming?

Apparently, this AU is happening, because I keep coming back to it. Here are the two previous fics, but you don’t necessarily have to read them to understand this one. All you need to know is that this takes place in an AU where Odin saves Loki from falling into the Void, and now Loki is in the Asgardian equivalent of psychiatric care, I guess? So I hope you like it!

(If anyone is curious, I will be expanding this AU into a fic and posting it on AO3 soon!)

TW/CW: suicide ideation, self-harm, suicide attempt, mental illness, and general feels and angst.

Word Count: 1876

Time has ceased to mean anything. One day fades into the next, and the next after that, and Loki’s life has come to an odd standstill. He stays in the private infirmary, his quarters there comfortable and cozy - suitable for a member of the royal family, except he is not really a member of the royal family. Prince Loki of Asgard was a lie, just one stacked against the many fictions and illusions upon which his life was built. Prince Loki of Asgard does not exist.

It leaves him with the question of who remains. It is a question he silently grapples with while the world around him spins on. He is tended to mostly by Eir, who keeps him on a steady stream of elixir that calms his fury and rage. He sleeps much of the time. He is aware of Frigga (not his mother) and Thor (not his brother) coming in and out of the infirmary often, but he sleeps or pretends to sleep throughout their visits, and neither stays for very long.

Odin has not come at all.

Surely, he cannot stay away forever. Loki asks Eir about it one day. “Has my - Odin - has the Allfather been to see me?” he asks, tripping over his words. He is sitting up in bed, his hands wrapped around a large mug of soup. He has not been eating much in general, but even he cannot always say no to Eir.

Loki sips at the soup carefully. It is a warm broth, easy on the stomach, rich with the flavors of chicken and vegetables. He feels a lump in his throat that he tries to swallow past. It is his favorite flavoring when he is sick - Frigga must have requested it, then.

Eir is standing near the bed, fussing with her elixirs. There is an assortment of colored bottles and powders and shimmering honey mixing bowls spread out on her supply gurney. She looks up at him, her forehead creased with sympathy. At least she has stopped looking at him as if he is a stranger. “No, darling. The king has been otherwise occupied, I am afraid.”

The king sends a jolt of icy hot resentment through Loki’s lungs. Loki, King of Asgard, King of Monsters, King of Nothing. His fingers tremble and he has to draw in a breath to steady himself. “Oh,” he says, softly.

“I am sure he will visit soon,” Eir says, misinterpreting the crestfallen expression on Loki’s face. Odin’s absence does sting, but it is not that which troubles Loki. Instead, his mind has wandered back to his very brief, very disastrous reign upon a throne he’d never wanted. He had done his duty, when Thor had gotten himself banished and Odin had retreated into his rest, and in return Loki had gotten mistrust, disdain, mockery, and treason.

The truth of his Jotun roots may have been long-buried and hidden away, but certainly the wrongness inside of Loki radiated anyway. Loki thinks of Heimdall, Gatekeeper of Asgard for millenia, who preferred to be a traitor rather than serve Loki, King of Ugly, Broken Things.

Loki realizes that he has started crying. It is silent, the tears slipping down his cheeks and dripping into the mug he still holds at his lips. Eir has not noticed. Loki drags in a breath and lets it out slowly. He carefully sets the mug down on his night table and brushes at his cheeks. “What are you doing?” he asks, to change the subject.

Eir looks up from where she has been creating a liquidy, glowing blue mixture. “Medicine,” she explains simply, her gaze flicking worryingly over his face. “Your illness is not borne of disease, my prince. Rather, it is your mind that ails you.”

“That medicine is supposed to help my mind?” Loki tilts his head doubtfully.

“The brain is an organ, like the heart or the lungs,” Eir responds, “and when it breaks, it must be healed. I believe this elixir will help.”

Loki nods slowly. He watches her work, studying the graceful movements of her fingers, and wonders if his parents (not parents) have told her the truth. Would she tend to him with such care if she knew what he truly was? Certainly not, he decides. No one in their right mind would give care to a savage Frost Giant. To Eir, he is still a prince.

He wonders how long it will be until his secret spreads beyond the reach of his family, into the rest of the palace, the court, the council. He wonders how long it will be until people like Eir, whom he’s known his whole life, will look at him in outright disgust, no longer bothering to hide their dislike. Loki can imagine their scorn already. How dare a Jotun contaminate Asgard’s shiny, golden interior? Loki, King of Foul, Loathsome Creatures, will not belong.

It is a shame, he thinks, that Odin had not simply let him fall.

Loki must fix this error. He realizes it with startling clarity, almost losing his breath at the thought of it. His face remains impassive but somewhere in his core, his pulse begins to race.

Eir finishes her elixir and gives him an experimental dose. She tells him it may take awhile for him to feel any difference but that it is intended to fix whatever has broken in his brain, cure his sorrow and grief so that he may return to his normal life. There is no normal life to return to, Loki knows, but he nods anyway. She leaves him alone to rest and he waits until she has been gone for more than twenty minutes before he slowly climbs out of bed.

Loki stands in the center of the room. He lifts one hand and, in a shimmer of green-gold magic, a dagger materializes in his palm. Loki turns the blade over in his hands, running a finger along the hilt. Loki, King of Repugnancy, is a plague upon Asgard. His kind is a disease, and there is no place for him in the royal household, in any household, nor in any realm or world.

Nausea falls over him at the thought of it as angry tears burn his eyes. It is not fair. Loki has always been so certain of his place - less desirable than Thor’s place, perhaps, but still his. Now, it has all fallen away from him - no, not fallen, he corrects himself. Nor has it been stolen, for it was never his to begin with. No, his place has simply been taken back from him, leaving him floundering mid-air. Loved by no one, worth less than nothing.

He is only correcting an error, he thinks as he lifts his tunic, revealing his pale white stomach. He runs the blade along the edges of his ribcage, trying to remember his anatomy lessons until, with a harsh laugh, he realizes that those lessons pertained to Aesir anatomy, not Jotun.

If he knew where to thrust his dagger, he could pierce his vital organs and bleed out and be done with it all. Loki presses the blade harder against his skin, frustration mounting in his fingertips. He doesn’t know where. He doesn’t know how to do it.

Tears blur his vision and he presses even harder. He hardly notices the stain of crimson on the blade, or the sting of pain as he slices into his flesh. His pale skin is a palette, clean and pristine; it is a lie that must be revealed, an illusion he must shatter. If Loki cannot do the job in one swift plunge of blade, then he will draw it out. He will kill the Jotun underneath, let the monster bleed and rot until Loki is swept away with it. King of Insignificance, Prince of Nonexistence. Loki is nothing and nothing is Loki.

He hears someone scream, a deep anguished sound from the far end of a very long tunnel. Loki panics - he is not finished yet - and he begins slicing his skin with abandon, harder and faster than before. He only manages two or three swipes before Thor is grabbing him, pulling him into his arms, trying to wrench the dagger away.

“No!” Loki struggles blindly. “I am not finished! Let me go, Thor! No!”

“You’re finished.” Thor’s voice is irritatingly soothing, but Loki can hear the edge of panic underneath. “Give me the knife, Loki. Please.”

It is no use. Thor is much stronger, and Loki is beginning to feel the burning sting of what he’s done. His wrist goes limp, allowing Thor to grab the dagger, and then Thor is shaking him roughly. Dimly, Loki hears him call for Eir, but all Loki feels is panic and dismay and utter hopelessness. No, no, no. His shoulders slump and he begins to sob in earnest.

“Why did you stop me?” he demands through his tears. Thor looks absolutely wrecked. “I have to kill it, Thor. I have to get rid of it, get it out of me.”

“Get what out?” Thor asks gently, smoothing some of Loki’s hair back.

“The monster,” Loki snaps. “The Jotun. Isn’t that what you always said? We must break their spirits, we must slay every last one of them. I am one of them and so I must be slain.” He cries harder, pressing his palms flat against his bloodied abdomen, digging against the skin with his nails.

“No, Loki,” Thor says, a note of desperation - and fear? - climbing into his voice. He grabs Loki’s hands, holds his wrists tight. “I was wrong. I was so very wrong.”

Loki shakes his head, trying to wrench his wrists from Thor’s grasp, but he cannot. Then there is a flurry of activity as Eir rushes in, along with another of their healers. Loki drops his head, dragging in breath after breath, trying to slow his tears as they haul him to his feet, bring him back over to the bed.

Thor hovers close by as Eir and her healer set to work and, soon, the blood is cleaned away and the ugly red gashes against his skin have closed up, healed and vanished. By the time they have finished, Loki is no longer crying, but he feels wrung-out and exhausted. Eir gives him another dose of her blue mind-healing medicine as well as the soothing elixir.

“He must be prevented from conjuring his daggers,” Loki hears Thor tell Eir in a low voice. Loki’s eyes are closed and they assume he is not listening.

“I will speak with the queen,” Eir murmurs back. So they will take his magic away from him next. Loki’s heart falls and he rolls onto his side, pulling his blanket up around his shoulders. Eir and her healer take their leave, and Thor comes to sit by the bed, taking one of Loki’s hands in his own.

“I’m so sorry, Loki,” Thor is saying. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Loki opens his eyes. He gazes at Thor’s earnest features. “You should have just let me finish,” he replies, injecting every bit of ice into his tone as possible. “It would be better for everyone.”

Thor looks stricken, but he says nothing. He simply squeezes Loki’s hand more tightly.

#charlotte writes #tumblr prompts #loki pokey artichokey #loki fic #brodinsons #loki and thor fic #tw: suicide ideation #tw: suicide attempt #tw: self-harm #cw: suicide ideation #cw: suicide attempt #cw: self-harm #tw/cw: mental illness #a nonny mouse

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morkmywords · 5 years

Text

Coffee Beans | Coffee Shop au | Nct | Kun

Masterlist

Coffee Shop/Barista!AU

Length: 2.6k

Note: holiday spirit took over my soul while writing this

Warnings: None really

Pairing: Kun x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Sometimes your worst days can turn into the best, especially when you meet a barista a coffee shop with a kind smile.

It all started with the rain so it makes sense that it would end with rain.

——

You’ve had nothing short of a terrible day, your cat just died that morning and you were heartbroken. You had had Blueberry since you were eight years old and now she was gone just like that. Somehow, after a lot of crying, you managed to pick yourself up and head to work but you were miserable all day and all you did was mope much less be productive. On top of that the bus system was closed because of all the rain that had decided to flood the city and you now had to walk home and it was just your luck that you didn’t bring a coat. You were emotionally and physically exhausted when you stumbled into the only shop you could see that was open and you swore that you’ve had enough rain to last you a lifetime and a half. The coffee shop you had found was entirely empty except for one line college student that was huddled over a laptop and five textbooks in the corner of a window seat. Other than the pounding of the rain against the windows it was warm, cozy and relatively peaceful but that did nothing to quell your mood as you trudged up to the front counter deciding you should buy something if you were going to take shelter here. The soft jazz music that was drifting out from a speaker mounted on the wall as you stopped in front of the cash register, you heard somebody quietly humming along amidst the steam which was funnelling out of the various machines. You spotted a mop of fluffy brown hair before one of the single most attractive men you have ever seen in your life popped out from behind and made his way to the register while continuing to hum along.

“What can I get for you?” He asked in a sweet tone.

You were momentarily floored by the sheer brilliance of his smile matched with his smooth voice, you thought your heart had stopped. You let out a choked cough with your eyes darting around to anywhere but him in a panic. “Can I have j-just a latte pl-ease.” You managed to stutter out before your eyes shot to your toes again.

He rang you up and gave you another breathtaking smile before informing you that your coffee would be ready in a minute and you should sit wherever you like. Behind the various whirrs and buzzes of the coffee machines you looked over the place once more, your eyes landed on a little booth in the corner which looked more like a bed because of how many pillows and blankets were covering the seats. You stripped off your dripping layers and hung them up before scooting your way into the pile of softness, you leaned your head back and let your mind drift away. You were easily having the worst week of your life and there was no way you hadn’t hit rock bottom, the rain continued to pound against the street outside as the water levels were slowly rising and you drifted off into your thoughts with a deep sigh.

You were brought back to the present when the steady background noise was interrupted by the little clink of the tray connecting with the table. The man with the nice brown hair who seemed to be the only employee working placed the large ceramic mug onto the small table with another soft smile. You tried your best to return his smile before peering down at the artistically crafted latte and immediately burst out into ugly sobs again when you saw the adorable kitten he had made with foam.

“Are you okay?” He asked in a soft voice before tentatively reaching out and rubbing your back which just caused you to sob harder but he stayed. A few moments later when you had finally calmed down you wiped your eyes on your sleeve and turned to the concerned man behind you.

“I’m sorry, I ruined your shirt,” you sniffles as you pulled away and saw his tear stained front.

“It’s okay,” he assured you, “but do you mind me asking why you were crying?”

“Well, my cat just died and seeing the kitten just reminded me of him and I’ve been having such a horrible week,” You blubbered as the tears threatened to come spilling over again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, “I have some time to spare since I don’t think anyone else will be coming in,” He said gesturing around the almost empty cafe except for the one student who was still engrossed in their computer seeming completely unbothered by your outburst. You nodded and shuffled over on the bench so he could sit down before spilling all of your problems before him. He was incredibly easy to talk to, the warm aura that seemed to surround him made you feel safe along with his easy smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners, not to mention the adorable way he pulled down his eyebrows when he was confused or trying to figure something out.

——

“At least the rain is starting clear up so you can walk home without getting soaked,” he said as a tiny bit of consolation. You nodded as you looked out the foggy window and just as he said the torrential downpour from earlier had petered out into a gentle drizzle.

“I’m sorry you had to listen to me complaining for so long,” you sighed, “ I definitely owe you.”

He just smiled and laughed, “I’m just glad that you’re feeling better and besides, people tell me I’m a great listener.”

“I’d have to agree with them.”

“But I will take you up on that offer of a favour,” He confessed.

You gave him a teasing glare, “What exactly do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking,” He smiled, “Maybe you could stop by again sometime and maybe I’ll listen to your problems again.”

“Really?” You asked with raised eyebrows.

“Business has been pretty slow lately and I’d like to keep getting paid.” He confessed with a smile.

“I guess I’ll just have to keep you in business then,” You agreed after taking the final sip of your latte, “I should probably start heading home,” You told him as you glanced out the window which was now illuminated with sunlight peeking through the clouds.

‘Well, uh, I guess I’ll see you around again,” He said as he followed you to the door.

“I promise,” you said with a smile and pushed the door open. You waved to him through the window before heading home with a much lighter heart and happier smile, you couldn’t wait to see him again.

----

You found yourself visiting the coffee shop fairly regularly after that under the reuse of buying coffee but it was really to see the barista with a soft smile. You felt yourself slowly falling for him each time you heard him laugh or saw the way his eyes crinkle when he laughed. It quickly became your place of comfort and safety though it was hard to tell if it was the shop or Kun. It had been a particularly hard day when you stumbled into the shop with a heavy sigh, the rainy spring had quickly turned into fall as you picked stray leaves out of your hair and headed to your usual spot. Kun had quickly come to know your habits and without even having to order he was always there with latte and pastry which always made you feel better. Though it wasn’t snowing yet the holiday season was fast approaching and you couldn’t be any less excited. Family gatherings were the bane of your existence, it wasn’t that you hated your family but the added stress and pressure of your overbearing family members and their high expectations was causing you so much stress it was almost funny. And of course the first question they would ask it if you had a boyfriend yet and the answer was always the same.

“What’s got you looking to down in the dumps?” Kun asked as he set the tray down on the table and took the seat across from you.

“Christmas is coming up,” you sighed before grabbing a chunk of the muffin and popping it into your mouth.

He gave you a sympathetic smile, “I know how you feel, family events are always stressful.”

“Do you have any plans with your family for the holidays,” you asked him and he choked on the coffee he was trying to take a sip of. You threw him a napkin and he managed to swallow without spilling anymore all over himself.

“My family live really far away so I can’t go home for the holidays but at least I can get paid more over the holidays.”

“You can come over to my house for the holidays if you want.”

It slipped out so naturally that even you were a little shocked when you said it and immediately started panicking but before you could start making excuses he cut you off.

“Would that really be okay?” He asked which shocked you even more.

“My family's motto is pretty much ‘the more the merrier’ so I’m sure they would love you.” you told him.

“Well if it’s not a problem, then I would love to come!” He said with an enthusiastic smile which in turn made you smile as well.

----

“When did you say you’re boyfriend was coming over?” Your mom asked from her place in the kitchen.

“He’s not my boyfriend mom,” you called back with a sigh, “and he said he’s coming over around four.” To say your parents were excited when you told them Kun would be coming over was an understatement, they were absolutely through the roof at the thought of their daughter bringing home a boy for Christmas. They had spent all day making sure the house was perfect and there was enough food to feed a small army, they never did this usually for the other family members coming over but when there was a boy everything got kicked up about five hundred notches. You were lounging on the couch as you waited for guests to arrive and you were a little more than jumpy, not that it was very unusual. You always got jumpy at family gatherings but now with the addition of the boy who you harboured a massive crush on you were borderline panicking. The first to times the doorbell rang it was just some extended family members but for the third time it swung open to reveal Kun with arms full of presents.

“You must be Y/n’s friend,” Your dad said as he led him into the living room which was filled with people who were all staring at him like vultures, “She talks about you a lot.”

You mentally slapped yourself before pushing yourself up and going to meet them where they were standing, “You didn’t have to bring presents,” you fake pouted as you came up beside him, “you already have to deal with my family members.”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled, “I had to put my Christmas bonus to use somehow, plus your mom may have called me from your phone and gave me a briefing on all your cousins.”

“So that’s why she looked so smug!” you exclaimed, “How did she even know my password?”

“Thank you for having me,” He cut you off before you were about to go interrogate your own mother, “I can already tell your entire family are as kind hearted as you.”

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you ducked your head, you were about to make some excuse before your mom came over and dragged him under the pretence of showing him where to put the gifts, leaving you to suffer through small talk with your great aunt who’s deaf in one ear and only likes to talk about the state of the world’s economy. When dinner was finally called you were sat right next to Kun in between all of your relatives swooning over his smile, you were completely prepared for this to be a train wreck. People getting offended left and right while somebody ended up with mashed potatoes in their hair but to your surprise Kun charmed everyone at the table with the ever embarrassing story of how you two met.

“You two really are perfect for each other,” your grandma cooed, “It’s about time Y/n found a handsome boy.”

You cringed and ducked back into your plate covered in food, you were never going to live this down. “I’m the one who’s lucky to find a girl who’s almost as beautiful as her grandmother,” Kun cut in making all the ladies and some of the men sigh.

“He’s a charmer too,” Your grandma sight, “You’d better not lose this one.” She ordered you as your cheeks turned pink from the gaze of your entire family and Kun, did he really thing you were pretty?

Dinner passed with no other mishaps and after while you stayed to help clean up in the kitchen the rest of your family joined into a competitive game of charades n the living room which encompassed lots of shouting and thumping which you could here through the kitchen walls. When you and your mother wandered into the living room after finishing in the kitchen you were greeted by the sight of Kun and one of your youngest cousins on his shoulders, both with bright smiles on their faces and you felt the butterflies in your stomach start to flutter.

A collective scream of “PRESENTS!” went through the room as you all found somewhere to sit before wrapping paper and bows started flying.

An hour later the kids were playing with their new toys on the floor while adults chatted over glasses of wine and you sat on the couch observing, it seemed like all the presents had been given out so you were ready to go to bed when someone cleared their throat.

“There’s one last present,” Kun announced before carefully picking up a box and cradling it in his arms. Everybody watched in anticipation as he made his way through the crowd to you and outstretched his arms.

“It’s for you,” he said with the smile that made your heart speed up, “from me.”

You gently took the box from his hands and placed it on your lap, the sound of tearing wrapping paper were the only sound that echoed through the room as you opened the box. Your breath caught in your throat as you cautiously reached into the box and took the little furry bundle of a kitten into your arms and cradled it against your chest. “It’s a kitten,” you breathed out as your felt tears welling up in your eyes, “Thank you.”

“The first time we met you said your cat died so I got you a new one,” He explained as you found the ribbon holding a name tag on it’s neck. “His name is latte?”

“Yeah, do you like it?”

“It’s perfect,” You exclaimed as your tears finally spilled down your cheeks while you observed the little fluffy kitten the colour of coffee who was snuggled in your arms.

“There another side to the tag,” Kun told you and you gave him a curious look before you flipped the tag over to reveal the question written in his delicate handwriting.

Will you be my girlfriend?

“Yes,” you immediately breathed out.

“Good,” he said with a smile before turning to your mom, “She said yes!”

A cheer went up through your family who were all crowded in this small room and you looked back to the kitten in your arms and back to your now boyfriend who had a dazzling smile on his face.

#nct #nct 2018 #nct kun #nct fanfic #nct fanfiction #nct fanfic au #nct fanfiction au #nct kun fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenario #kpop scenarios

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falsehoodsanders · 6 years

Text

Slipping

A/N: this is the first fic I wrote for the Sanders Sides fandom. Originally it was a prompt for @@something-sanders for the ts fic exchange organized by @the-prince-and-the-emo , however, I’m being re-assigned on my main so I thought I’d post it here!

Ship: Romantic LAMP/CALM

TW: ANGSTY, eating disorders, self harm, suicidal thoughts, self hatred. You asked for angst so I brought angst. I’m sorry...

WC: 2236 (whoops)

validate me ok bye

~River xx

Slipping

That was the only word that came to mind when he thought of himself. His entire existence at present was a metaphorical landslide, and he was slipping into the valley below with no way to make his way back up to the peak of the mountain. He knew he was needed, physically. He knew he was valued by the others and the Fanders. If he ducked out, there was no way Thomas could function without him. But what was there for him to help with aside from being necessary to his host’s physical well-being? He didn’t offer anything of value, not like the others did. The others gave thoughtful input into things Thomas should do. They helped him attain the goals he set for himself. They helped him see the good in the world, despite all of the negative things happening just outside his door. He couldn’t do any of that. Aside from being a “main side”, he wasn’t helpful. Wasn’t necessary. Wasn’t worth it.

He loved the other three with his entire being. He didn’t know he could love another as much as he loved them. When they first started their relationship, he fell hard and fast. It was bumpy but they managed to ride the storm until they found calmer waters. He could tell you a million different things he loved about each of them, but he didn’t know what they saw in him. There was something awe-spiring in the way their eyes sparkled when they spoke of something that they took pride in, or the way each of them had their own way of being intimate with one another, or the way they could communicate with each other with a simple gesture, like leaving sticky notes around the Mindscape, or having made a thoughtful breakfast to make the others feel loved. Loved. He felt loved. He was constantly reminded that he was, in fact, loved. But did he deserve it?

He knew what depression was. He saw the warning signs long ago. He knew he was just getting worse… but were the voices in his head really that wrong? They pointed out the flaws in his reflection, offering a not so gentle suggestion that he add a bit more makeup to his routine than before. He listened, but it wasn’t enough. They pointed out the weight he had gained and how overweight his attire made him appear. He had cut down his eating habits, tracking his calorie and carb intake as to not make the situation worse. He had lost a few pounds, but it still wasn’t enough. They whispered threats when he was forced to eat something with too many calories, saying he wasn’t trying hard enough to make himself perfect for his loves. He then ate what he was given by his beloved boyfriends, and once it was acceptable to leave the table, he rushed off to his bathroom and forced it all back up. He focused on the numbers, limiting himself to 500 calories a day, but it still just wasn’t enough. Soon the excess fat was gone, but the voices found more to critique. They pointed out that he needed to be more toned, to have a slimmer waist and more muscle to ensure that the others saw him as an appealing partner. So he went on long runs and took to the gym, weighing himself every morning and every evening to see the progress he had made, but it wasn’t enough. The voices wore him down, made him tired and weak, which then only fuelled them to keep pushing him to be stronger, more toned, skinnier, prettier… better.

He knew what an eating disorder was… he wasn’t stupid. But as he fell deeper into the hole he a dug himself, it soon became a routine. Wake up at 5am sharp. Go for a run around the Imagination until breakfast at 8. Eat breakfast with his boyfriends. Help with clearing the table and washing the dishes. Make it to his bathroom and force up the meal he just ate. Brush his teeth, drink some water and then eat a healthy snack of under 150 calories to replace the food that he brought back up. Spend time with his boyfriends in the commons until 11:30 where he would excuse himself to go workout, saying he had packed a lunch (a lie) and promised to stay hydrated (another lie) so he didn’t have to join them for lunch. Finish working out at 2:30, pushing himself to his absolute limits to make sure he burned more calories than he consumed. He would then shower for about 30 minutes and then stand in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection in disgust and making note of where he still needed to improve. Repeat breakfast scenario at dinner, which was at 6:30 on the dot, but allowing himself 200 calories for his replacement meal to hopefully keep his energy up to avoid suspicion from the others. Spend an hour with his boyfriends for “family bonding time” until retiring to his room at 8, claiming he was tired from his day and needed some sleep. He would stay awake until around 2am, trying to find new ways to make himself better for the loves of his life. They deserved the universe and more, and he would try his damnest to give them just that.

The voices never quieted down, always repeating harsh remarks towards him, until one struck a chord with him. He was reading a post about how to make his progress matter when he stumbled on a blog on tumblr. It soon became his favourite site to visit. He created his own account, followed this blog religiously and even put on notifications to see when they’d post their next thinspo picture. The more he scrolled, the more he found different ways of taking out his hatred on himself. The voices still weren’t happy with him, so he took to self harming. He knew it was dangerous. He knew it was an addiction. He knew that once he started it would be near impossible to stop, but the second the cool metal blade hit his inner wrist, he craved the sensation. So one cut became two, and two became four, and soon enough, he moved to his thighs and stomach because both arms were littered with scars; new ones that still stung, old ones that had faded to white until he reopened them again to see the crimson bubble on his skin before rolling down to hit the tile beneath him. He no longer wore sleeveless tops or shorts. He couldn’t risk his secret being found by the others.

“Roman?” a soft voice came from his door. Patton. Of course it was. Sweet, wonderful, compassionate Patton.

“Yes my love?” Roman replied, mustering all of his energy to sound as he should: regal, proper, confident… worthy.

“Can we come in?” Patton asked, “We need to talk to you.”

Of course. They were here to break up with him. They must have finally come to their senses.

Unlocking the door, he braced himself for what was to come with a solemn “Yes.”

Patton came in first, followed by Logan and Virgil, who all had a hesitant and almost sad look on their face. Their eyes scanned the royal side’s room, finding paper scattered across the floor, each with red X through whatever idea he had written down and words such as “stupid” or “insufficient” or “failure.” His sword lay on the seat of the vanity, completely covered in blood stains that weren’t even attempted to be cleaned. The ever-growing collection of makeup and photos of the flawless, photoshopped models from the internet covered the vanity itself, along with notes on scraps of paper stuck to the mirror with more red coloured words like “worthless” and “ugly.” His Disney posters had been ripped off the walls and his curtains were shredded from the times he had taken his sword to them in a fit of rage. The scale placed in front of the mirror was surrounded by shattered glass, obviously from a previous mirror that Roman had punched in fear of his own reflection. And Roman himself. He sat on the floor in front of his bed. His eyes were red and puffy, his hair was sticking up in all different directions, he sat in his boxers, leaving his scars visible and a clear view of his ribs poking out from under his skin.

It took everything in the three to not freak out over what they saw. It would make the situation worse.

“I suppose you’ve come to your senses, then?” Roman asked, no longer trying to keep up his facade. His voice croaked from crying for days on end, never knowing when, or if, they’d stop.

“I’m not sure what you mean, my prince.” Logan spoke softly, almost as if not to upset Roman. It would have been endearing if Roman didn’t know what was going on.

“You’re here to break up with me, right? To tell me I’m useless, worthless? That all I do is drag you down and make your lives miserable? I’ve been expecting it for a while so you might as well just get it over with.”

Shock was evident on the other’s faces. They had no idea that this was how their Prince was feeling.

“Roman… we’re not here to do any of that.” Virgil whispered, worried that he would end up scaring him away.

Roman scoffed, “Well then what are you here for? I don’t know what else it could be. I don’t see why you care.”

Patton took Roman’s hand and squeezed lightly, “Roman, we’re here because we’ve been worried about you.”

“What for? I’m not worth the hassle.” Roman muttered, looking down at the ground to avoid the disgust he’d see on their faces.

The three looked at each other, making silent decisions on what to do next. Virgil made his way to the bathroom to get a soft cloth to clean his cuts.

“Roman, you are worth so much. You are irreplaceable. We are nothing without you.” Logan murmured, kneeling down to Roman’s height. He gently tilted his lover’s head up to look at him. All Roman saw was the tears in Logan’s eyes and the sadness that was evident across his face.

“You’re lying.”

Virgil returned with a damp cloth, carefully placing it on the thigh with blood dripping on the floor, “Ro, love. Why would we be lying?”

“I’m not good enough for you! That’s why!” Roman exclaimed, “You’re all perfect and wonderful and I don’t deserve you. You all have a purpose. Logan contributes his knowledge and passion for learning new things. Patton gives him emotions and helps him make strong bonds between him and his friends and family. Virge, babe… you keep Thomas cautious in the world we live in. You might work overtime a lot, but you’ve only tried to protect him. All I’m here for is to come up with ideas and I can’t even do that right. Plus, I hurt you without intending to and I can never forgive myself. Vee, I treated you like a villain for a long time and I hurt you in the process. I constantly patronize Pat without realizing it and I see the hurt in your eyes long after it happens. I fight with Logan all the time and make fun of him when he has a difficult time processing emotions. You’re all breathtaking too, and here I am; a fat, ugly, good for nothing side that has now hurt the three most important things in his life because he’s pathetic.”

There was a pause while they took in what Roman had just said, until Virgil broke the silence, “Roman. Look at me please.”

He does so, and he immediately regrets it. There are obvious tears streaking down his cheeks, messing up the eyeshadow beneath his eyes. Yet he still offers a small smile, comforting and warm.

“Roman. You have always been beautiful. Inside and out. You are… well… were so full of life. You cheer us up when we’re down, singing silly songs or making us waltz around the living room. When you sing Disney at the top of your lungs, it comforts us, knowing that you’re feeling happy, and sometimes we sing along. You may have done some not so nice things in the past, yes, but you’ve grown. We have seen you trying so hard to accept us and love us as we are.”

Tears threatened to fall down Roman’s face, but he wouldn’t let them. He couldn’t show them how weak he was.

“It’s okay to cry, Ro.” Patton spoke, “You encourage me to express all of my emotions, not just the happy ones. It’s time I repay you for that. Let it go.”

And so Roman did. He let all of his fears and worries and insecurities go as he sobbed in their arms. They all held him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. It wasn’t perfect. It was far from perfect, but this was the beginning. The beginning of learning to love himself again, of recovering. It was a long road ahead, but the voices of his boyfriends drowned out the ones in his head. He felt safe. He felt wanted. He felt loved. And yes, he did deserve it.

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lovinglohst · 6 years

Text

I Wanna Dance With Somebody: Chapter 1- The Shittiest Night Of Our Lives

Story Pairings: Boyf riends, Pinkberry, RichJake

Chapter Characters: Michael Mells, Brooke Lohst, Jeremy Heere

Chapter Warnings: Panic Attack (think that's it)

Summary: On the night of the Halloween Party, Michael is about halfway through having his infamous panic attack when Brooke comes tumbling into the bathroom, in the middle of her very own teenage angst. Michael lets her stay and the two sit in the bathtub and bond over their anger at their friends/super-mega-crushes. That’s when they get the idea to start fake dating to both get back at Jeremy and Chloe and win them over. Chaos, bonding, and gay ensue.

Authors’ Note: So we got this idea for a BMC fic and decided why not. To be absolutely clear- Michael and Brooke are not endgame. They’re just cute, platonic chaos gays. Enjoy! - Aly and Nik

AO3 Link

“He went crazy trying to get it out !”

The air in the bathroom turned ice cold. Michael could feel his heart beating in his chest rapidly as if he’d drank one can too many of Red Bull. It was hard for him to believe that the boy standing in front of him was the same boy who’d been his best friend since pre-school. Because the Jeremy Heere before him was almost unrecognizable.

“Then I have nothing to worry about. Why would I want that?” The words cut into him, and Michael could feel small cracks forming in his heart. Jeremy looked away from him, jaw set as he moved for the door. Michael moved with him, refusing to let this go. Jeremy was going to end up hurt if he didn’t do something. He just had to make him listen . “Move.”

“Or you’ll what?”

“Get out of my way. Loser. ” Michael stared directly into those blue eyes. They were as cold as ice, glaring into Michael’s like he was a bug under his shoe. His chest felt heavy, his heart beginning to ache as it tried to jump from his chest. Holding back thick tears, he moved out of Jeremy’s way silently. The boy brushed past him, purposefully knocking Michael’s shoulder with his own as he left Michael behind. He didn’t even glance back, slamming the door shut. Michael flinched at the sound, letting out a shaky breath. His entire body felt numb as he stared at the wall blankly. He couldn’t think, couldn’t see, hecouldn’tbreathe- whycouldn’thebreathe-

“Hello?!” A sharp knock cut through the air, pulling Michael from his daze. “Some of us have to pee!”

“I’m having my period!” He called weakly, wanting to slam his face into the wall. Idiot, absolutefuckingidiot .

“...Take your time honey.” The voice answered gently, and Michael let out another ragged breath. He needed to sit down. His legs could barely hold him upright, his knees like jelly. He felt around blindly, his hand curling around the cool, porcelain of the bathtub. He guided himself into it, breath coming in short, rapid gasps.

He felt pathetic -he was pathetic- sitting here all by himself. He was in a fucking bathroom at the biggest party of the year, while Jeremy was out there having the time of his life. He’d probably found someone new to hang out with, someone to replace Michael. Like he was some broken toy.

The thought made him begin to shake uncontrollably, his vision narrowing till all he saw was the smooth bottom of the tub, his ears filled with the loud thumping of his still racing heart and some girl singing to a Whitney Houston song outside the door. The type of girl he and Jeremy would usually make fun of…

Michael pulled his knees to his chest, burrowing his head in between them. He was going to be sick, he just knew it. Everything was so loud, tooloud- ohgoditwastooloudmakeitstopplease-

A sudden, high-pitched shriek made him jump, head snapping up to see-

Oh, you had to be fucking kidding me right now …

Standing in front of him was Brooke Lohst, in all her glory. She was wearing the skimpiest dog costume he’d ever laid eyes on, with almost everything on display. It was everything a teenage boy could’ve wanted. Except for him. Everything he’d ever wanted had just told him he was a loser and then left him without a second glance.

“What are you doing in here?” Brooke questioned, her voice hollow and broken. It was only then that Michael realized that she was crying. Her usually flawless makeup was coming down her cheeks in streaks, face flushed a depressing shade of red as she stared at him with as much poise as a crying girl in a poodle costume could muster. He stared at her for a minute, trying to get his voice box to work.

“Having the shittiest night of my life.” He answered finally, resting his chin on top of his knees. Brooke slowly raised her hand, wiping at the makeup-stained tear marks on her cheeks.

“Same.” They sat there in silence for a moment, Michael silently debating what to do. Sure he kind of hated Brooke- not only because she was a bully but because she stole Jeremy from him- but she looked as shitty as he felt, which was concerning.

“Do you… do you wanna get in the tub with me?” He asked hesitantly, watching Brooke’s face twist in disgust. He quickly realized how that sounded, clearing his throat in embarrassment. “N-Not like that. Just-”

Groaning, he buried his face back in his knees. He wanted the Earth to just open up and swallow him whole, just to get out of this awkward situation. After a few moments, he heard Brooke’s slow footsteps coming closer. Lifting his head, he watched as she lowered herself into the opposite end of the tub carefully. She pulled her almost completely bare legs to her chest, the tags on the collar around her neck jingling quietly as she placed her chin on her knees in a position that mirrored his.

This was officially simultaneously the worst and weirdest night of his life.

“Am I ugly or something?” Brooke asked suddenly, making Michael pause. When he didn’t offer a reply, Brooke gazed directly into his eyes with fresh tears already forming. “No, seriously? Like, am I just hideous to look at?”

Michael’s mouth opened and closed quite a few time before he could force the ‘no’ from his throat. Looking dissatisfied, Brooke wiped at her cheek again.

“Then what is it about me that makes guys want to cheat on me? I don’t get what’s wrong with me.” Her voice broke, fresh tears beginning to fall again. “I try so hard, so fucking hard so that people will like me. I’m beautiful, I’m popular, I’m on the honor roll. But it doesn’t even matter, does it? All anyone is ever going to see me as is ‘Brooke Lohst, second best’. My own supposed ‘best friend’ doesn’t even respect me enough to not screw the guys I’m dating! And I just-”

Brooke let out an ugly sob, placing a hand over her eyes. Tears continue to slide between her fingertips, the small droplets plopping quietly on to the tub’s white floor.

“I’ve had a crush on my best friend for four years,” He admitted quietly, turning away when Brooke’s green eyes found his. “And tonight, he basically told me that I wasn’t good enough for him anymore. E-Even after all the things we’ve been through. Twelve years of him being my friend- my only friend- and he just throws it all away.”

Michael didn’t take his gaze off the sink, though he could feel Brooke watching him still.

“It’s definitely not the same thing, but it sucks just as much,” He let out a hollow laugh, tears coming down his face even quicker. “Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“Then I guess we’re both pretty pathetic.” She answered, and Michael finally turned to look at her. She gave him a sad smile, sticking out her ‘paw-glove’ clad hand. “Brooke Lohst.”

“Nice to meet you, Brooke,” He shook her hand, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the absurdity of the situation. He was in a bathtub, at a party with the second most popular girl at school. “I’m Michael Mell.”

“Nice to meet you, Michael.”

“I don’t get how this is supposed to help,” Brooke whined, stabbing her straw into her slushie. She looked completely ridiculous in a poodle costume, sat upon the hood of Michael’s shitty 2007 PT Cruiser and holding a bright blue slushie in the 7-11 parking lot at two o’clock in the morning. Michael sat beside her, slurping on his red one like it was the last one he’d ever have.

“The cold helps to freeze your heart so that you can’t feel any more pain.” Michael joked, shrugging sarcastically. Brooke giggled, taking a hesitant sip of the ice cold drink. “Good?”

“I like Pinkberry better,” She sighed, taking another long sip of the slushie. “But this is okay, for now.”

“Maybe tomorrow.” Michael hummed, fiddling with his straw. Music was coming from his headphone, the faded sound of Bob Marley helping to fill the comfortable silence between the two.

“Tomorrow?” Brooke questioned, turning to look at him.

“O-Oh, I just kinda assumed- I mean-” Brooke giggled at his flustered expression, nudging him with her arm.

“I would love to hang out with you tomorrow. Not like I have anywhere else to be…” She trailed off quietly, staring at the bright neon sign on the store in front of them for a long while. “Do you…”

“Do I…?”

“Do you think that stupid computer made him cheat on me?” She asked, sounding a little hopeful. It had taken a while to convince Brooke about the SQUIP, mostly because of how ridiculous it sounded, but she'd quickly come around at the slight chance that yet another boyfriend cheating on her hadn't actually been her fault. Michael glanced down at her, straw between his teeth.

“I wouldn’t be surprised. That fucking thing is making Jeremy act all kinds of weird.” Michael's leg began to bounce, sitting still becoming to constricting. “Whoever that person is… it’s not Jeremy. Jeremy- the Jeremy I know- is kind, and funny and smart. I mean, yeah, he’s a bit of a tool sometimes- but he cares . He cares so much.”

Brooke blinks at him owlishly.

“You’re so gay it’s not even funny,” Brooke said finally, and Michael couldn’t help the laugh the ripped its way from his throat. Brooke joined in, giggling furiously. And in that moment, they weren’t the school stoner and the second-hottest girl in school. They were just Michael and Brooke, two very gay (bi, in Brooke’s case), very lonely kids who had found someone who understood them just a bit better than everyone else.

“You know what we should do?” Brooke gazed at him mischievously, laughter still bubbling in her throat.

“What?” Michael asked teasingly.

“We should date, just to make them jealous.” Michael looked at her sideways, tilting his head in confusion.

“Brooke, you realize I’m strictly into dudes, right? Like you’re amazing, don’t get me wrong. But you kinda don’t have the right… parts for me.”

Rolling her eyes, the girl slid off the hood of the car, dramatically placing her hands on her hips.

“I know that, silly. I didn’t mean we should actually date .” Brooke wrinkled her nose on the word, her tone suggesting she found the whole idea revolting.

“Feeling really flattered here, Lohst.” He said dryly, slurping his drink.

“You know what I mean! I just mean that we should pretend. Make them think we’re dating. Show them how happy we are without them!” Michael considered her words, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.

“Do you really think that’ll work?” He asked, considering the girl. She had a determined fire glowing in her green eyes, smirking at him like a wolf closing in on its prey. It was… unsettling to say the least.

“It worked for Chloe and Jake last year. She fake-dated Dustin Kropp to make him jealous, and they got back together the next month. It’s totally fool-proof!”

Despite Brooke’s confidence, Michael couldn’t help but feel a nervous pit in his stomach. It didn’t sound as simple to him as it probably did to Brooke. She’d dated a bunch of guys (and a girl or two) before, but Michael had only ever loved and wanted one person. He wasn’t sure he could do it. Not with Jeremy probably watching his every move.

But why would he watch you? He asked himself, feeling cold. He’s made it very clear that he thinks you’re beneath him. So why not make him regret it?

Looking at Brooke’s expectant face, he nodded firmly.

“I’m in.” He proclaimed determinedly. Brooke squealed loudly, throwing her arms around his neck roughly. Michael paused for a moment, before wrapping his arms around Brooke’s small frame. It felt nice to be hugged like this- like she cared about him. It had been a while since he and Jeremy had done something like that, his heart clenching at the thought. He held onto Brooke tightly for a long while, before pulling back reluctantly.

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun!” She giggled, pulling back to smile at him brightly. She brandished her slushie at him proudly. “To our new relationship!”

Michael smirked a little, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“To our new relationship.”

Chapter 2 --->

#be more chill #boyf riends #pinkberry #richjake #tw panic attack #be more chill musical #fake dating au #be more chill fanfic #angst and fluff #michael in the bathroom #bmc i wanna dance with someone

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kuromantic · 6 years

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Whumptober Day 3: Insomnia

Matsukawa sat slouched in his seat, biting his lip compulsively to keep himself awake. He couldn’t miss another lecture by snoring through it, when he’d already succeeded in passing out like that four times. On days he didn’t fall asleep in class, he sometimes couldn’t go altogether. He was dangerously close to failing with the sheer lack of participation.

A mechanical pencil poked his back. It was Oikawa, peering into him with the same concerned face since high school. “Mattsun, you okay? Want me to call Hanamaki?” He whispered, placing his palm on either side of his mouth.

Matsukawa shook his head to signify a definitive no. He couldn’t bother Hanamaki for the third time this week, when he had stayed with him through the sleepless nights until he could exhaust himself long enough to pass out. He’d decided to power through the pain on his own.

His tender spots throbbed with each passing second. It was the only thing keeping him awake, but also the reason he was in the verge of fainting. His energy had been sapped until he was nothing but a shell of what he used to be in high school, the chronic pain taking away his ability to lead a normal, functioning college life.

Instead of attending parties and looking for a part-time job, Matsukawa spent his evenings curled up on a soft surface in pain or staring at the ceiling counting the sleepless seconds as his eyes burned into his head. And Hanamaki often stayed by his side, comforting him through every painful and ugly moment. A plethora of problems came with his initial condition, some of them being very unpleasant to experience and discuss.

Matsukawa’s brain was engulfed in a thick cloud of mist, and his joins roared with pain as minutes passed. A bead of sweat travelled down his back as he counted down the seconds until class would be over. He couldn’t deal with the pain and drowsiness for long, and he’d completely given up on writing his sloppy notes halfway through.

It took too long for the bell to start ringing. Matsukawa waited until a good portion of his class had already left before he even attempted to stand up, knowing he could make a show of himself if he tried to stand up all of a sudden. He kept a hard grip on the table, lifting himself into a standing position before Oikawa could offer to help.

“Thank you, goodbye.” Matsukawa muttered as he left the classroom for common decency’s sake, avoiding all eye contact with his professor. He knew how some people looked at him, and he preferred not to take it all in when his entire body screamed at him to lie down. He knew that many of his classmates and professors judged him for hardly being able to attend classes, no matter what his friends did to help the cause.

It wasn’t like he could help feeling sick all the time. He was the most bitter about the whole situation. He didn’t ask for a chronic illness that leeched the life out of him. He wanted to study nutrition and graduate with a decent enough grade to get his dream job. He wanted to return to the days when he had his life together.

“Issei, hey.” Hanamaki gently wrapped an arm around him from behind, as he walked down the hallway. He remembered to avoid his tender spots, as always. Hanamaki never blamed Matsukawa for having a health condition that he couldn’t control. He always calmed him down after he broke down crying or had an angry outburst because of the amount of pain he couldn’t escape from. He never complained about losing sleep or his limited free time. As selfish as it made him felt, Matsukawa wanted more people like Hanamaki in his life.

Matsukawa nodded at Hanamaki, lifting his hand slightly to attempt a wave. He couldn’t lift his arm all the way, but Hanamaki recognised his gesture straight away. “How’s today been treating you?” Hanamaki asked, whipping out a few coins to buy a drink from the vending machine. “I’m assuming you want the green tea.” He waited a beat to let Matsukawa protest his order, and pressed the button on the vending machine when Matsukawa said nothing.

“Thanks, Hiro.” Matsukawa grinned in satisfaction, affection outweighing the pain for a brief moment before the throbbing in his body came back again. Hanamaki loosened the bottle cap before handing the green tea to him, while he bought his own matcha au lait. “You’re the best boyfriend I can ever-“ he paused, wincing as spots started appearing in the side of his vision.

“Bad pain day?” Hanamaki said, without missing a beat. Matsukawa shrugged, but it really meant a yes. He did have worse days, but almost passing out during a lecture was definitely bad. Hanamaki immediately got his cues, taking a glorious sip of his drink. “Let’s go home. Does that sound good?”

“Oh, it sounds absolutely amazing.” Matsukawa sighed with a hint of happiness. Walking hurt, but he could make it to Hanamaki’s car if he could bear with it for a few minutes. He’d stopped using public transport after he threw up in a train one night.

Matsukawa leaned his weight into Hanamaki as they trudged over to the car, attempting to mask the effects of pain on his body. It exhausted him to know that people stared at him when he walked that way and tripped over his own feet, so he stared at his shoes tagging behind Hanamaki’s until he reached the door.

“You hungry, or just tired?” Hanamaki draped a blanket over Matsukawa’s shoulders as he started the engine and placed his matcha in the drink holder. Matsukawa shivered, gripping the warm fabric tightly and pressing it against his eyes. His head was starting to pound, indicating the beginning of a migraine.

“I just wan’ sleep,” Matsukawa muttered, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the light coming beyond his eyelids. It did little to help the pain, but he knew it was so much worse when he didn’t do anything about the outside stimulus. “M’sorry, Hiro.”

Hanamaki ruffled Matsukawa’s matted hair. “Now, don’t be saying that. You’re not feeling well, so you should be resting up.” He kissed the top of Matsukawa’s head, tenderly. “I love you, illness or no illness.”

Matsukawa buried his face into Hanamaki’s shoulder as soon as he stepped out of the car, only lifting his head when they were both inside the building. Their flat wasn’t too big, but cosy to sleep in and watch Netflix when Matsukawa was able for it. “Want me to get a heat pack?” Matsukawa groaned in response, holding up a shaky thumbs up.

He pushed himself under the covers desperately, pressing his face into his pillow. All of his pain spots thrummed, and his migraine had reached its peak. His sleep schedule was messed up, but he needed to take the rest before he became physically incapable of it.

When Matsukawa woke up, it was too dark to make out anything but sounds and textures. His side was slightly warm, from where he had presumably rolled onto the heat pack while he was asleep. He had no recollection of Hanamaki bringing it to him, but he had to thank him later.

About fifteen seconds of relief lasted, until his upper body started to burn intensely. He ripped off the covers that made the burning worse, hot tears welling up in his eyes. “Hiro,” he called out instinctively to the person that gave him peace, but he wasn’t beside him on the bed. Panic seeped into his skin, eliciting a sob out of him.

“It hurts,” Matsukawa gave a whimper, opening his mouth to let out a pained cry. What came out was more than he expected. A splash of tea and bile dripped from his hands that flew up last minute to contain the mess, and onto the bedsheets. The burn spread to his throat, scorching hot and dripping.

The light flickered on, and the sudden light made Matsukawa gag again. “Issei, shit!” Hanamaki was beside him as quickly as he appeared, pulling him away from the soiled blankets. “Breathe in, two, three, four. You’re okay.” Matsukawa sucked in a breath, then started to cry harder. “I’m sorry for not noticing for so long.”

“I threw up on our sheets. Again.” Matsukawa sighed in his self-defeating tone. He felt disgusting, no matter how many times Hanamaki would assure him it wasn’t his fault.

Hanamaki shrugged, rubbing his back sympathetically. “They were ugly anyway. You can take the couch, if you think you can sleep.” He handed Matsukawa a new t-shirt and shorts, helping him out of his stained ones. “Is the pain still really bothersome?”

“It’s been hurting all this week,” Matsukawa said bitterly. “I just want to sleep, Takahiro. I’m just so fucking tired, it’s killing me…!” He broke into a round of sobbing, cursing his uncooperative body to hell. The only escape from constant pain was sleeping, but he couldn’t keep his eyes closed when his body hurt so much.

“God, I’m so sorry Issei. I’d make it all go away if I could. You don’t deserve any of this,” Hanamaki whispered, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend tentatively. “I’ll stay with you until you can sleep. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“You’re my boyfriend, Hiro. You should be having fun with me, not staying at home because my body’s being a dick.”

“Especially because I’m your boyfriend.” Hanamaki pecked Matsukawa’s cheek, handing him another heat pack. “Come on. Let’s try the sleeping thing again, yeah?”

#whump #Whumptober #matsuhana #matsukawa issei #Hanamaki takahiro #insomnia

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writersindigestion · 6 years

Text

tipped | edward nygma x reader

“what goes up, must come down.”

reader gender: female

words: 2536

warnings: SUICIDAL IDEATION, mention of gore, violence, abuse, paranoia, trauma, ed didn’t stopped being evil while i was gone. he’s not dark!ed, he’s just ed, and edward is a villain.

notes: hey there, kiddos. sorry it took me so long. i’ve had this part done for a while, but i’ve got another bajillion words to add. i cut it in half once again for your ease of reading. please leave a comment or shoot me a message! gonna try my best to get back into writing!

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART SIX

also available on: AO3

The next morning, she put on a plain dress that extended just past her knees, made her hair appear presentable, and made way to the church. [Y/N] had used the phone just for a few minutes yesterday, attempting to find the cathedral’s number from the directory. When she got the information she needed, she made contact and asked when confession was.

Lucky for her, it was sooner than she’d hoped.

The confession booth was small and claustrophobia-inducing, and her paranoia rang vicious bells all around her psyche. She swallowed her fear, however, and crossed herself. “Forgive me, father, for I have sinned,” Her tone was low, quivering, “It’s been… Probably close to a decade since my last confession.” Was it doubly wrong to lie to a priest?

She interrupted herself, “Pardon me, father… That wasn’t honest.”

“Take your time, daughter. I am listening,” The priest calmly replied, his age-wizened voice spreading over her like a warm breeze.

“I’m not Catholic. I have never been,” [Y/N] breathed, trying vainly to soothe her nerves, “I’ve never been to confession, nor would I know how to give confession…”

He did not speak, and so she continued.

“I’m am guilty of a great many things, father, and I don’t know that I’d ever personally been able to atone for them, but I need help,” She said, fighting through the strangle of tears, “I wrote down what I have to say… It might not be safe to say such things out loud. Forgive me.” Her fingers pressed a well-folded piece of paper through the decorative gaps in the confession booth, hoping beyond hope that he would accept it.

The priest took the note from the woman, taking just a few short minutes to read it in its entirety. He made a small sound of grief, of pity, and received a small sob in return for his acknowledgment. “Is this what you need me to do, my daughter?

[Y/N]’s cries became ugly, sloppy, but she couldn’t help it. Her heart was so shattered, so suffocated beyond repair. It seemed like a century had passed since a stranger had so easily offered their assistance. “Please, please - it’s all I could ever ask for. I’m so scared, I’m so-”

“You need not plead any longer. It shall be done as you have asked,” He interjected softly, and she heard him rise from his place, and step quietly from the booth.

She did not follow. She didn’t want to leave the sudden comfort of the tiny room that protected her from unwanted stimuli. She didn’t want to leave the little box of forgiveness for a world that was tinged with green.

When the priest returned, he extended his hand towards her and guided the woman from her hiding place. His expression was grave, and he could barely stand to look at her.

Her blood went cold. She’d been so close. She could’ve tasted freedom only seconds ago, just to have it snatched from her needy grip.

The father undid his collar, frustration in hands that had been so peaceful for so long. He gripped the cross that rested around his neck, and gracefully removed it, before turning to place it around the head of [Y/N]. It pained him to see the look of confusion, of loss in her eyes.

“God has forgiven you, daughter, and I must ask that you forgive me in return,” The priest lamented, before turning away from her, “It seems it is no longer my place to offer advice - but may you also forgive yourself.”

He would not make a return to his place in the Catholic church.

An old, feeble nun gripped her by the elbow, gently leading her into a side room, away from all the stained glass and overused pews. She sat her down at a table; a simple, landline phone lies in its round center. The nun’s hands grasped [Y/N]’s shoulders just moments before she left her alone.

With bated breath, the isolated woman awaited his call. When the phone finally rang, she still hadn’t fully prepared herself, listening to the ring for several seconds more, her teeth gnawing at the skin of her knuckles until her lips were painted with blood. There would be no ignoring him. She picked up the phone and did not speak.

“Once again, you color me surprised, Miss [L/N]. Using a priest to do your dirty work? Terrible. I hope you don’t mind that I took a page out of your book, then,” Edward began, sounding quite like a man who had just won the jackpot, “Don’t bother responding. Just follow my instructions, and no one will be hurt. You have God as my witness.”

She couldn’t breathe. She wished that she wouldn’t.

His voice was crisp, commanding, “Turn around. There is a set of stairs - take them to the top. When you get to the balcony, wait for further direction.”

[Y/N] didn’t move - she didn’t want to, certainly, but her legs felt like gelatin just sitting down, how would they ever carry her all that way?

Edward didn’t relent, barking into the receiver, “Move - now!”

She scrambled to her feet, dropping the phone on the table and beginning her ascent. Flights passed her by, and she peered out of the windows as she marched towards whatever fate was sure to meet her. The people below were busy - probably content, and absolutely oblivious to her peril. In one of her frequent moments of morbidity, she saw her intestines decorating the cathedral spires, painting the church’s outside walls with the blood of a sinner.

This isn’t your fault, you didn’t deserve this. This isn’t your fault, you didn’t deserve this. This isn’t your fault, you didn’t deserve this.

In the middle of the balcony sat another telephone, its winding cord disappearing off towards a distant wall. When it rang this time, she didn’t hesitate to pick it up.

“Nicely done - you’ve proved you can follow instructions, imbecile,” Ed vibrated, the sick sound of joy clearly evident in his words, “What I will ask you to do next is very simple. When I hang up, you will climb onto the balcony ledge. I hope your balance is good, [Y/N], but you won’t be there for long.”

She spoke lowly into the phone, “Do you want me to jump? Is that what you’re looking for? Cause... I’m not exactly afraid of heights…”

“Did I tell you to jump? Clearly, I’ve overestimated your ability to listen. I would say that insubordination deserves punishment, but we’ll have plenty of time for that later,” He chattered, hardly able to contain his excitement.

“Just looking out for you, Eggma. I know you want this to be as painful as possible.”

“It’s adorable to see you pretend to know anything about me,” Ed teased, completely ignoring her jab before his tone grew serious again, forceful, “Get on the ledge, or people will die.”

He hung up before [Y/N] had the chance to ask who he planned to hurt. She placed the phone lightly back in its place and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress. In her overwhelmed state, she nearly forgot to be afraid, but the knocking of her knees together reminded her that she was still wasn’t as strong as she needed to be. Could she not be like Jim Gordon? Or Chryssie? Or Kristen? Or the priest? Why did she crumble when it mattered most? Why couldn’t she stand her ground? Tears rampaged down her face for the zillionth time in the past months, and she pressed her hands to the stone ledge, pushing herself up onto it.

Her eyes were immediately trained downwards, the safety of the confessional booth was now light years away. She calculated that the balcony was roughly over one-hundred feet in the air and that a nice tumble onto the thin rug below would effectively kill her. The prospect of death was tempting, tantalizing, and the urge rested against the small of her back. [Y/N] stared at the pews, all aligned in perfect little rows for the masses to gather in during sermons. She imagined, like she always did, that none of this had happened to her. Kristen hadn’t died, Jim Gordon never went to prison, her sanity was never stolen, and Edward Nygma was never born.

The fantasy had yet to fail at comforting her.

An acronym was what broke through her daydream, an acronym that she’d heard for a generally happy several months of her life. In any other situation, perhaps it would have been a blessing to hear those four letters.

“G-C-P-D!” A strong, booming voice cracked the foundations of her reverie, bringing the woman back down to Earth with a figurative splat.

Jim Gordon gazed up from the ground floor of the church, seeing the teetering form of [Y/N] [L/N], a former coworker that he’d known so little of during her time at the precinct. Cursing to himself, he started for the stairs, his partner taking the lead in coaxing her down.

“Miss [L/N], we are here to help you!” Harvey Bullock called upwards, raising his voice despite the silence of the cathedral, “Suicide is not the answer - please step down from the ledge, and we will get you the assistance you need!”

Typical Harvey. He was well-meaning, but not completely helpful. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his words, fighting the urge to laugh out loud. No one appeared to notice, however, thanks to the distance between them. She put her hands up in surrender, turning just slightly to step back onto the level ground, when she spotted the slithering form of Edward Nygma, winding his way between the officers behind Bullock.

Suddenly, she remembered why the implications of suicide had been so tempting. He stared up at her, his expression unreadable regardless of her vantage point. What alarmed her most was the curling of his right arm through the crook of her girlfriend’s elbow.

She let out a cry of frustration, of exasperation - would [Y/N] never be free of this man? Would her friends ever be safe? Would she ever have control of her life again?

While she would have loved to continue her turmoil over taking a leap, the strong arms of James Gordon wrapped around her middle, tugging her, unwilling, from the balcony ledge. Having just breached the boundaries of hysteria, she let out a deafening shriek, catching the marble rim with the tips of her fingers, stopping Jim from tearing her away from what felt like the only escape she had left.

The detective’s brow furrowed at her resistance, but he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. She was a woman in distress - distress that reached the point of wanting to die. Inwardly, he tried not to think about how close he’d been to the same position in the recent past.

Granted, he’d been hypnotized by a psychotic madman, but it didn’t mean the impulse wasn’t there. A part of him considered her reasons, to which he’d collected just a few, and wondered if she was being coerced as he was.

He pushed the thought into the back of his head for later, pulling firmly on the woman’s waist until she lost her grip on the ledge. What really surprised him, however, was how rapidly her hands went from the stone to his eyes. Jim let out a grunt of pain, his face pinching together in an attempt to avoid the assault, his arms still wrapped around her to keep the woman from jumping. What hurt more than her fingernails against his face, was how goddamn loud she was screeching.

“You can’t do this to me. I have nowhere else to go!” [Y/N] screamed, battering around the man’s head, frantic in her attempt to get him off of her. This would likely be the last chance she got in a long, long time - if she had any idea where she was headed.

The struggle didn’t last much longer. A few more officers joined Gordon’s side, one of them making an executive decision to tase the suicidal woman. She immediately dropped, stiff like a board, but the cop held it for almost fifteen of the thirty recommended seconds before Jim reprimanded him.

“Officer, stand down,” He bellowed, lying [Y/N] on the ground before she could get hurt during the fall. When he was sure his colleague had stopped, he leaned down to check on the female who’d been so keen on dying just moments before. With help, James pulled her back to her feet, letting her use him as a crutch.

As they started to lead her downstairs, she grappled with her feelings, with her body, with her tongue - mostly unable to form words. This was the only time she’d be separate enough from Edward to tell them what was going on. But was he listening? How would she know? Was his plan still to hurt innocents if she didn’t cooperate, as she’d done thus far (she assumed)? Had she even cooperated at all? What was for dinner?

[Y/N]’s teeth were clicking and chattering far too much for her to even attempt to speak in the first place. She didn’t quite feel herself getting tased - or at least didn’t feel the electricity coursing through her - but she definitely felt the effects. Her muscles locked up all over her body - head to toe, and back again. Screams of pain, of terror, of confusion - they tore up her throat and sat, paralyzed, underneath her tongue. She had said so many things, asked so many questions, pleaded for them to stop hurting her, but she was dumbstruck, and in reality, said nothing at all. Now that the tasing had ceased, she felt around her cottonmouth for the syllables that had been so deeply swallowed.

This wasn’t the first time she’d been tased. Curious fifteen-year-olds tend to do stupid things around unsupervised stun guns. One that was used for public defense, however - it was a little more effective. Consciously, she knew that it didn’t particularly hurt, but the sensation was so very, very uncomfortable. And while she would never go out of her way to get electrocuted again, if the opportunity arose in a social situation, [Y/N] probably would. Stupid? Yes, but she enjoyed playing devil’s advocate for the sake of experience.

Maybe that made her a little like Edward, she thought, but there was an incredibly fine line between playing devil’s advocate, and just being the devil.

Was it appropriate to think about the devil in God’s house?

In her mental limbo, she’d missed her chance entirely to tell the cops what was going on. If the walk had taken any longer, the battered woman probably would’ve forgotten what was happening in the first place. They rounded the corner, coming back into the central chamber of the church, and [Y/N] was greeted with a new perspective on the place that she’d nearly jumped from. Suddenly, ghostly images of her fallen corpse spread across her cerebrum, painting the wooden benches with her blood. She promptly bent in half, her vomit narrowly missing Jim’s shiny combat boots.

#edward nygma fanfiction #edward nygma x reader #edward nygma smut #gotham smut #edward nygma imagine #pls show up in tag

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whirlybirbs · 6 years

Note

"you're the one thing keeping me sane right now" AND MAKE IT A N G S T Y PLEASE

It took a lot to stress you out.

Really – you’d put yourself through college, earned two PhD’s, all while working two jobs to pay the bills. You could handle a lot on your plate. Being busy wasn’t so much a fear, but a joy for you.

And yet, here you are.

Tony had promoted you to head of the scientific research and development team the same week that Erik Selvig dropped the ball he’d be retiring and wanted to pass his mantle to you. Suddenly thrust into leadership positions in both the large department of SciR&D and the smaller specialized team of astrophysicists on floor 8, you were drowning in work.

Loki had noticed. He was absolutely elated in the beginning. To see you so revered among the staff at the Avengers compound struck a chord in his chest that made him stand a little straighter, a little prouder. And then came the late nights full of paperwork cluttering your office and even your bed. Loki was quickly learning how cumbersome sleeping with manila folders could be.

It took a lot for you to cry, too. Just like stress, you could handle a lot – but going on week two and a half of being stretched thin, overworked, and missing your better half was really starting to wear on you.

You’d seen Loki only before bed – and even then it was for a brief time, only a kiss or two before you both plummeted into the world of sleep. That alone was starting to leave you on the brink of crying.

He’d been so damn patient. He willingly slept with your research files, for god’s sake.

Loki returns that night from the training room after a rather brutal session with Thor. His older brother had spared him no mercy – the god is drenched in sweat, hair tied back and out of his face. In recent weeks, he’d taken to actually wearing the Avenger’s issued training clothing – a grey t-shirt stamped with a tacky A and black sweats to match – mostly because doing his own laundry was out of the question. Washing leather was more difficult than he’d like to remember and the Prince wouldn’t dare do it himself. Not for something as trivial as training.

He looks… like an Avenger. You almost don’t recognize him through your tears.

“Oh,” you quickly swipe at your face, burying your gaze in the files littering the expanse of the kitchen counter. You pray he doesn’t notice the tears, “Nice outfit.”

The God freezes mid-step, gaze narrowing as he stares you down. He spots a tear roll onto the folders beneath your finger tips and his chest clenches. Loki rounds the counter, speaking slowly. “It’s tacky and ugly – I hate it. I look ridiculous.”

He notes how you try and hide the tears from him – though he’d normally want to remedy the situation quickly, Loki knows your behavior is thanks to stress. So, he ignores your tears and attempts to cheer you up the best way he knows – terrible self depreciating jokes.

A distraction.

He moves closer around the kitchen island and opens his arms. “Would you like a hug? I smell like a goat.”

Your face split into a smile, a throaty laugh rocking your chest. A few stray tears roll down your face and Loki fights the urge to swipe them away himself. You beat him to it. “Ew, Loki – Is that sweat?”

Loki nods, raising his arms to display the pools of darkened grey material about his armpits, too. “Like I said, I smell like a goat.”

Your giggles dissolve as your attention turns back to the work set out before you. Loki can’t help the frown that smothers his face. He’s quick to snatch the pen from your hand and lob it over his shoulder and across the room. You gawk, brows knotting as you desperately try and work out the God’s odd behavior.

“Why are you being weird?”

“I haven’t seen you in two weeks for more than fifteen minutes at a time,” his voice rushes out, “You’ve been consumed by your work and duties, and in turn you have neglected me, your loving Prince of Asgard.”

“Neglected.”

“Yes,” he nods, arms crossing across his sweat stained shirt, “You’ve hardly been –”

“I’ve neglected my goat.”

Loki raises a finger, silencing you before his own smile fleets across his lips. He fights it for a moment, but when you beam up at him in pride, he lets a breathy laugh leave his throat. “I didn’t say that.”

He tries desperately to ignore the hot feeling in his stomach your smile digs up – instead, Loki fiddles with his fingers. A nervous habit.

You shuffle off the bar stool, smile softening as you snatch his busied hands. “But you’re right. I’ve been so… busy…”

“Stressed, you mean.”

“That too,” you groan, eyeing the stack of papers on the desk, “It’s been so much to handle and… You’re the only thing keeping me sane right now. You’ve been so patient with me and here I am, neglecting my faithful goat.”

Humans, in a lot of ways were just like Asgardians. How Loki hadn’t realized this prior to you was honestly a bit shameful. His mind swirls, fingers cold against your own. In the last two weeks, you’d hardly touched one another and now the slightest of your hand was making his knees feel a bit weak. Green eyes darken a bit with devious intention.

“You need to engage in some form of stress relief, I believe.”

“What, like yoga?” you snort, rolling your eyes and moving to file your finished papers into their respected files.

Loki’s voice is a heavy purr in your ear. His hands have found your hips and he leans, bearing his weight against your back and pressing you flush to the counter top.

“Not quite,” he mutters, mouth trailing along the curve of your shoulder, “Though the activity in mind does involve a good bit of flexibility and stamina.”

You did need to de-stress. Like yesterday.

“I’m listening.”

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki imagine #marvel imagine

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