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livvyisb0red · 5 months

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“Let me cheer you up ;)”

Wealthy!Best Friend!Hawks x Stressed!Reader

Summary: Keigo’s beloved best friend has been overly stressed with work at their agency; his only way he thought to calm them down is to have a night-in at his penthouse with some drinks and music.

- Best Friends to Lovers (?) -

**CW: overworked, kissing, alcohol, cuddling

*Reader is a prohero with their own agency

NOT PROOFREAD

Another sigh fell from his mouth as Keigo set his phone on the small table in front of him, careful not to knock over his glass of water.

“My one weekend off and everyone is busy!” He grumbled before falling back onto his sofa, the multicolored screen catching his attention as he sits upright, allowing him to fixate on the sitcom that illuminates from the screen.

A few episodes pass before his phone buzzes on the table.

*1 message from: Loser ^///^*

- dude i’ve had so much to do at my agency since my assistant got a new job - 9:30 pm

~ I bet :( Do you want me to send my assistant over to your agency? - 9:30 pm

- omg please i’d literally cry. - 9:31 pm

~ Of course! What all would he be doing? - 9:31 pm

He leaned forward to get a sip of his water before checking his phone again.

- honestly he could probably come in tomorrow. if there’s two of us looking through these reports we can get it done in about two hours. I’ll be paying him a little extra too since he isn’t part of my agency. - 9:32 pm

~ Alright! I wish you luck. You leaving now then? - 9:32 pm

- yeah probably. why? - 9:32 pm

~ I’m booooooooorrrreeeedd - 9:33 pm

Keigo had sent the message with hopes that his best friend would want to come over. He knew they’d want to!

- kei I’m so stressed idk. i just wanna chill tonight - 9:34 pm

Well this didn’t go as planned. He had another trick up his sleeve. Hoping it would work, he took a deep breath and pressed his thumb against the screen of his phone.

~ Let me cheer you up ;) - 9:35 pm

“Fuck why did I do that?!” Keigo immediately got anxious after sending that. What if they get mad? Will they hate him? Oh god. Intrusive thoughts starting swirling through his head, playing out the worst possible out come over and over again until…

- yeahh it’s friday why not lmao - 9:36 pm

Jumping off the couch, he cheered loudly before rushing back to his phone.

~ Dress up for me, and bring a bathing suit ;) - 9:36 pm

- okay feathers lol - 9:36 pm

Keigo rushed around his house speed cleaning everything to make sure it was nice for when (y/n) came over. He took the cover off of his hot tub, making sure it was the perfect temperature for the two of them. Throwing some snacks together on a plate for them, he thought it would be nice to pour some Rosé for them. Rushing to his room, he looks for something to where quickly finding some nice dress pants and a white button up for him to wear.

Taking off his t-shirt, he looks at himself in the mirror before taking a deep breath and throwing his dress shirt on, barely buttoning it up since they would be getting in the hot tub.

The knock on the door pulled him out of his trance, and brought him into a new one. He practically appeared at the door, opening it for his dazzling bestie.

“Hey feathers.”

Oh boy. They did NOT have to get that pretty for HIM. If it weren’t for his ego, Keigo would be on his knees IMMEDIATELY for them.

“Hi chickie” Keigo choked out with a wink. He took their hand leading them into his penthouse, while grabbing the glass of rosé to hand to (y/n).

“Oh my god, you didn’t have to do all this for me Kei! I’m serious!”

“Why wouldn’t I? After a stressful day I would wanna be pampered too.”

Walking over to his coffee table, he grabbed the remote putting on music that just begged to be danced to. Keigo strutted back to (y/n), hand out, inviting them to dance with him.

“Really, Kei?” (Y/n) shook their head, giggling before taking his hand and accepting the invitation.

The lights in the room changed to a hot pink before Keigo put his phone back on the table, looking back at his best friend, admiring their eyes. They danced for what felt like hours, the upbeat, glittery music mixed with the pink lights and alcohol had them ignoring anything that happened around them. Keigo grabbed (y/n)’s face, looking deeply into their eyes before asking a question which would change the night for the better.

“Wanna take a shot or two?”

Laughter erupted between the two of them before they made their way to his liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Ciroc and two shot glasses. They each took a shot before chasing it down with more rosé. Slowly but surely they made their way back into the living room before Keigo looked at (y/n), gesturing to his balcony.

“Let’s take this outside, babe.” Keigo practically drooled from his mouth.

They both got changed in his room before making their way to his balcony, with Keigo leading the way and opening the sliding door. He climbed over the side before grabbing (y/n)’s hand, guiding them into the hot tub with him. Thoughts started swirling through Keigo’s mind. He wanted to put his arm over (y/n) more than anything, but the fear of ruining the relationship they had took over. So he just leaned back and looked over to the city around them. They both let out a sigh, soaking in the relaxing feeling of the warm water washing around them. Keigo jumped at the feeling of someone’s head on his shoulder, looking down at (y/n), who was looking back at him before shooting a wink. They both laughed, realizing the others feelings.

“You cool with this?” (Y/n) asked in an almost whisper-like tone.

“Uh YEAH!” He cheered, causing them both to burst into laughter for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

They cuddled up to each other in the hot tub, his arm over their shoulder, their leg over top of his. Keigo looked at (y/n) with longing eyes before pulling them onto his lap. He looked up at them, running his hand up their body before resting it on the back of their head and pulling them into a kiss.

The kiss lasted hours in their head, when in reality it was only a few seconds. They looked at each other before Keigo let out a drunken giggle and kissing (y/n) once more, this one with more passion than the last. Alcohol running through their mouths, causing kiss to be sickeningly sweet to both of them. Keigo pulled away, leaving his hand on their waist.

“I think we are both too drunk for this, but just know that I’ve liked you for a long time. I don’t want anything happening between us while we’re drunk. I’d rather not have any regrets in the morning.”

(y/n) looked at him with the most mesmerizing smile Keigo had ever seen before kissing him once more and nodding in agreement.

“I was thinking the same thing, Kei”

They both got out of the hot tub, drying off before heading back inside.

“Do you want a sweatshirt and sweats to change into?” Keigo asked from his bedroom.

“Yes please! Thanks!”

Keigo came down the stairs with the promised clothes in his hands.

“You can get changed in my bathroom over there, you know where it is.”

Watching as his friend left the room before checking the time on his phone, 1:37 am.

“Wow” he laughed to himself before looking back up and seeing (y/n) in his hoodie and pants which were way too big for them, but he loved it.

He put his arm up, inviting them over to the couch with him so he could put his arm over them.

“You know it’s almost 2:00, right?”

“No?! That much time passed?”

“Yeah, we should get to bed, I got a TV in my room so we’ll have something to watch while we fall asleep.”

“But I just sat down!”

Keigo giggled before picking them up and carrying them up the stairs into his room and laying them on his bed. They both got under the covers before tangling themselves together. He didn’t even get to turn on the tv before they fell asleep together with a new future ahead of them.

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excelsi-or · 1 year

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coming home (jihoon fic)

i’m procrastinating on several assignments. but here’s another one-shot.

w.c. 823 (some angst and fluff)

“You’re back.”

She takes a deep breath and stares at the back of his chair. Her eyes go around the studio. They’ve spent so much time in this room, laughing, teasing, loving. The number of times she’s fallen asleep on that couch against the wall while Jihoon played video games is infinite.

Well.

It was.

It isn’t anymore.

There is now a finite number of times she’s fallen asleep on that couch with Jihoon. Because she hasn’t been in the studio in a month.

“Yes. And you’re not going to look at me?”

The man has his headphones on. He must have the volume near max, because she can hear the sounds through it. The sounds are angry. Angry almost seems too kind. The sounds are fueled by fury.

When he slides the headphones off, sets them on the desk, and swings around in his seat, there’s no fury on his face. The slight lines on his face that have worried their way into his skin, it’s defeat she sees.

Another deep breath.

“What do you want?”

When she walked out a month ago, she’d packed his things into a box and left it at her front door for him to grab. He traded the box for his own, full of her things she’d left at his place.

This last thing, that she can feel in her palm now, she doesn’t need to give back. But maybe she needed to see him again. Needs to know if she’d made a mistake.

Her thumb brushes over the metal in her hand. It’s warmed with her body temperature and the ridges of the key have imprinted on her palm.

Her hands come around from behind her and she places the key on the coffee table between them. One side. Click. The other. Clack.

Then she straightens.

Jihoon stares at the key on the table. His house key.

“You could’ve kept that.”

“I know.”

After a beat of silence, he asks, “Do you want yours?”

“No.”

The frown on his face deepens. “Then why did you think I wanted mine?”

She hears her girlfriends telling her this is a stupid idea.

You left him for a reason.

You were being neglected.

Sure, he loves you, but he was never around to show you.

And then her mother’s voice, soft in the background but loud enough above the rest. I don’t know what you were expecting love to be. For some people, it’s grand gestures and flowers and sex multiple times a week. But it doesn’t have to be that. For you, love can just be the confidence to know that you love each other and he’ll come home.

Like a ship going off to sea and coming home to port, she’d thought herself a few days after that conversation with her mother. That constant expectation that at some point, he’s coming home to her.

“Do you ever miss me?” she finally asks.

Now, Jihoon’s frown is one of confusion. He sits back in his seat, putting more distance between them. “Is that a trick question?”

She shakes her head.

“What are you doing here?”

“Deciding if I’m coming home,” she answers.

Even from across the room, she sees his Adam’s apple bob up and down. Jihoon can kick her out right now. He can tell her to piss off. He has every right to do so.

“And?” His voice is quiet.

Her words have cast a spell over the two of them. It’s delicate and any loud movements or interruptions will probably end it. But in this space, they could have infinity to make decisions.

“Are you still home for me?”

Jihoon tips his head. “You’re the one who gets to decide that.”

“Am I home for you?”

His chest rises and falls.

Suddenly, Seokmin appears behind her. “Hyung, practice is—!” He halts when he sees her there. “Noona.” His eyes flick between the two of them.

The spell’s broken. Infinity is over.

“Sorry. I…” He peers around her and meets Jihoon’s eye. “I’ll let them know you’re going to be late, hyung.” He offers her a tiny smile. She doesn’t know what’s in his smile right then. Seokmin’s gone just as quickly as he’d arrived.

When she turns back around, Jihoon’s on his feet. He picks up the key on the table, turning it over in his fingers.

“Come home,” he murmurs, holding the key out to her.

She takes it back and steps into his arms. He feels the same. Sturdy, warm, soft. She feels his head rest against hers as she presses closer to him. He fills the spaces of her body with his.

They stand like that for a few breaths before she pulls away.

“You have somewhere to be.” She pockets the key and takes a step back.

Jihoon nods. “You’ll be home?”

“We need to talk.” She knows he needs to hear her say the words. “I’ll be home.”

#Lee Jihoon #lee jihoon scenarios #Seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #woozi #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #svt

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dailyreverie · 2 years

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Insomniac

Fall prompts 🍂 27. "I can't sleep"

(Requested by @apollo-enthusiast / @myfandomlikesandstories)

Pairing: Llewyn Davis x reader

Word count: 689 words

Warnings: Mentions of homelessnes/struggling with having a placce to sleep.

October made its arrival known by drastically dropping the temperature that night, and if it hadn’t been for the cold night that woke you up, the empty bed would have done the trick. Everything is confusing at 2:45 am, when all you want to do is cuddle the cold away and Llewyn is nowhere to be found; that is until you hear the guitar strums coming from the living room and you see the light peeking from under the door.

“Llewyn,” Your raspy voice catches you by surprise as you call him, spotting him on the couch playing a quiet melody. “What are you doing?”

Llewyn looks up at you with guilty eyes and a sigh when he sees how sleepy you are. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” He follows you with his eyes as you start walking toward him, trying to keep the smile that’s creeping on his lips to himself. “Honey, it’s late, go back to sleep.”

“I can’t now.” You sit facing him, a tiny smile on your face when you admit you can’t sleep without him. Your side is pressed to the back of the couch, watching him play mindlessly with the guitar strings.

You stay there, sitting beside him, looking at him incredulously because you know it’s late. “I’m sorry.” You smile sleepily to his apology, too tired to tell him there’s nothing to be sorry about. Nights get like this to him sometimes, restless and tiring, endless and cold, as if his body had taught him that every once in a while he still has to stay alert through the night. “It’s the cold. I couldn’t- it wouldn’t let me sleep.” Llewyn admits shyly, not daring to look up at you. But you understand, his insomnia is only a product of the difficult past he had a while back. No words can fix that, you know that by now, so you only reaching out to push a fallen curl back up his head where it belongs to remind him that he is there, with you, and not at a stranger's living room.

Silence fills your tiny apartment for a few seconds, just his guitar and the cracking of the candle stick that makes the room smell like fall, the one Llewyn lit up as a last attempt to feel warm.

“How did that song I like goes?” Interrupting his music you reach over and grab the instrument to place it on your lap now. With a precise and calculated movement of your fingers, you set them on that one chord he taught you, strumming slowly as you go through the following two chords in calculated and un-practiced moves. It doesn’t sound all that well, but Llewyn loves the song anyway - he loves your furrowed eyebrows as you move your finger to the string below and the one above trying to find the right one, and loves your soft voice whispering the lyrics.

The same way you reached for his curls he does it to your fingers, not able to hide the way he feels away from his smiling face. “Remember it’s D…” He reminds you, placing your fingers in the correct form, letting you strum a couple of times. “Then it’s G, you know that one already.” You strum again, making him smile fondly when he hears you whispering the lyrics to yourself to keep the rythm. “And then D again.”

You play it a couple of times in a row until your fingers learn the movement - until Llewyn forgets he ever was cold, even welcoming sleep to his body once more. You are smiling to yourself when you get it right and in fluent movements, and he can’t help himself but interrupt your song as you did to his, connecting your lips in a soft kiss that finishes warming up every corner of his body when he feels your smile.

“I think I can sleep now.” He confirms before one more kiss. Your hand finds his as you stand up, pulling him with you so you can drag him to the bedroom where the cold never finds its way in again.

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

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis x you #llewyn davis imagine #llewyn davis fanfic #llewyn davis fluff

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satancopilotsmytardis · 11 months

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8, 18, and 25?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

I've actually done both before while getting my Creative Writing degree! I prefer to do a story without dialog and I remember writing a very fun personal narrative without dialog about self-doubts while engaging in a supposedly fun hobby!

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

He's been waiting outside the apartment for twenty minutes before he sees the man making his way in this direction. Oh. Fuck. Wasn't expecting how sharp his chest was gonna ache seeing him. Almost as sharply as seeing his dead friends. Shit. Was he his friend? Can he really call someone he killed his friend? Jin looks worn thin, but he doesn't have anything on his file but a traffic accident right now, he isn't a villain yet. Doesn't have a scar going through his forehead. Shouldn't be falling apart at the seams. Jin pauses as he sees him, brows drawing together, cigarette hanging from his lips. Fucking hell, been two years for him and his chest still always got crushed with guilt whenever he smelled that brand afterward. "Can I help you?" Yeah, shit, ow, no contradictions or anything. Sounds way sadder though. Always was so bright and cheerful when they knew each other. Well. Right up until he-- "Yeah I hope so, man. Are you Jin Bubaigawara?" "Uh, yeah. Why're you asking?"

So this is an early scene from my time travel WIP. Based on how Hawks has talked about killing Jin, I decided that before trying to save anyone else, before trying to reconnect with the other heroes, before just about anything else, he would want to save Twice. I debated for a while how Hawks would approach him, but I ultimately decided that because he seems to feel so guilty in canon about tricking Jin and using his good nature to hurt the League, he wouldn't beat around the bush this time. That he should just go and tell Jin he had an opportunity for him and be forthright in helping him stay away from a path of villainy. I did debate about Hawks coming completely clean with the time travel thing and having that be a running joke, but I thought of a different one that I liked better so he hasn't told him about that quite yet!

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

I always write as if Tomura's body temperature is a few degrees lower than an average persons and that Dabi's always running a mild fever. My reasoning behind Dabi's is obvious, but for Tomura I think it would be neat that since his quirk is called Decay, he's always one step closer to a corpse than the average person.

#tanco speaks #ask #writer ask game #asks

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imaginationbeyondreality · 2 years

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So, what’s new?

These past few weeks have been hectic. I feel so tired but for some strange reason, I do not feel sleepy. Well, maybe it’s because the board exam is pretty much just around the corner. So, I don't have the time to dillydally.

This year has been rough for me and… for my baby. I know she’s kinda old. We’ve been together for like seven years. And maybe, it’s about time she shows how much she has aged.

For starters, I do not even remember when was the last time I had her washed. Yes. Yes. It’s so irresponsible of me but I just don’t have the time these past few months.

I had to pay someone for a scratch (about a foot long) I caused in her car when I was leaving the parking lot. I’m not sure actually if I was the one who scratched her car but the security guard insisted. Though, what baffles me is that I have no scratch in mine. I mean, if I was the one who caused it should my car have a paint transfer of some sort? I don’t know. But because of this incident, I now have trust issues with security guards.

I stupidly left my car with the engine on for 20 hours. That’s almost a day! I wasted my fuel which I tanked up that day. Seriously, how stupid can I get?

For the first time in seven years, I had to visit a vulcanizing shop. I was alone and scared and skeptical. I mean. Is he doing the right thing or he’s just after sales? Silly me.

I had a mishap with a motorcycle, twice actually. Different instances. Alhamdulillah, no one got hurt. So yeah, I have new scratches on both sides.

One of my brake bulbs busted last year and now, two of them are not working. Back then, I had a hard time finding a replacement in CdeO so I gave up. But I realized, I have to replace it. So we searched again in IC but we still got no luck. We ended up asking someone to buy them in Manila and get them shipped here. So, yes. I got new bulbs but to my disappointment, both brake bulbs just stopped working. I think something is wrong with the wiring. And it’s definitely something that I cannot solve.

Next. Three of the warning lights on my dashboard are now persistently illuminated. I read my manual, did some research, and I found out that those warning lights are kinda serious and warrant a visit to an auto shop.

And just recently, my windshield cracked. I don’t know how and why, but it happened. I felt so sad and sorry and stupid. ‘Coz I think I am the only one who got her windshield cracked for no apparent reason. I did not see any other damage exteriorly, just the crack. Something might have hit it. Accidentally or not? I don’t know. Or did it crack because of too much heat? Or because she’s worn out? Well, I can’t tell.

But you know what’s funny? I religiously hang my sunshade cover every time I park and leave my car out. But strangely that day, I did not. Looking back, I remember having the urge to hang the sunshade cover before I leave but I dismissed the idea telling myself that I will leave early the next day so I don’t have to do it. But I did not leave the next day. I did not! And it totally slipped my mind that I did not hang the sunshade cover. So I basically left my car out in the scorching sun for two days. When I got in my car the next day, I did not notice the crack. I turned on my AC, as usual, and lowered the temperature. And it somehow occurred to me at that time that if I set the temperature too low, will my windshield break? And, AGAIN, I dismissed the idea. ‘Coz it’s what I’ve been doing for years. I turn my AC on immediately. I only noticed the crack when I was outside the compound. Wait. Did I really notice it when I was out or was it when I turned my AC on? Did something fall and cracked the windshield when I left the car to close the gate? Ugh. I don’t know. My memories are playing tricks on me. They’re confusing me.

I can’t help myself but be bothered. I keep on thinking that I was the one who made it happen. It’s my fault. I feel stupid and irresponsible and broke. ‘Coz the repair, you know, would definitely cost a lot. I know it’s wrong of me to wallow in sadness, but I couldn’t help it. I have this feeling that none of these could have happened if I was careful. I might have prevented it had I listened to my inner self. But really. Whom am I kidding? They are bound to happen. They happened for a reason.

Ya Allah. Grant me wisdom and strength.

Sigh.

#3 #2022 #sorry #broke

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lemonlillybee · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 12

Title: What Could Go Wrong?

Prompt: Cave In @whumptober

Fandom: Spider-Man (MCU)

Word Count: 485

Read on AO3

Peter is desperate.

He’s been begging for what feels like hours. Every single bone in his body is urgently desperate for warmth, for relief. He’s been shivering for so long that his muscles are aching. The sound of his own teeth chattering in his ears is unbearably loud, a painful reminder of his misery, and he fears he may never feel warm again. That thought alone is enough to bring tears to his eyes, and a sob escapes his raw throat despite his attempt to stop it, the sound loud and dramatic even though he clenches his fists and curls in on himself to suppress the emotion. At this point, he’s starting to feel hopeless.

Still, he doesn’t give up.

He begs.

He pleads.

He bargains.

He cries.

He yells, and that one gets the biggest reaction, but it still doesn’t get him what he wants. It only gets him pitiful glances, and more distance between him and what he wants, and disappointment.

When he presses the back of his icy fingers to his own face, he can feel how warm his body really is. His skin is hot like he’s sunburned, and his lips are dry and cracked, and there’s sweat along his hairline that drips down his temple and along his jaw. He knows that he’s running a fever, but he feels so, so cold and he knows what will help with the unbearable chill and it’s nearly breaking him that it’s being kept from him so cruelly.

He knows he can break through, he knows he has it in him. It’s just a little harder than he thought it would be, but he has one last trick he can try, one last attempt that he’s sure will get through.

He looks up, letting the tears well up in his eyes, and sniffles as pathetically as he can, then gives a weak little cough. His voice is broken, hoarse when he speaks. “Please, Dad.”

There’s a moment of tense silence.

Peter holds his breath.

Finally, Tony caves in.

“Fine,” he moans. “Fine, I can’t take it anymore. You’re killing me, Peter.” He walks a few feet away, returning with a blanket, which he holds up with as stern of an expression as he can muster. “One blanket. One, and that’s it. But if your temperature goes even the slightest bit higher, it's coming off. Got it?”

Peter nods sleepily and doesn’t even try to hold back the moan of relief as Tony drapes the blanket over his trembling body. The added warmth is incredible. This time, he doesn’t do anything to stop the sobs as they pour out of him like a waterfall of relief. He feels a hand on his back, soothing and steady. When he’s done crying, he lets his eyes close and falls asleep almost instantly, the sound of Tony sighing the last thing he hears before he drifts off.

#whumptober2022 #no.12 #cave in #fever #spider-man (mcu)#drabble #irondad #peter parker whump #whump #hurt peter parker #sick peter parker

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seijorhi · 3 years

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nostos.

well it’s not exactly monster fucking but um... here there be monsters.

Kuroo Tetsurou x female reader

TW implied non-con, nsfw-ish, blood, gore, minor character death, animal death, um somebody gets munched...

Every good writer needs peace and quiet. Fresh air and a change of scenery.

You’re not running away, it’s more of a… tactical retreat. Two weeks disconnected from well meaning friends, pushy family members and your eternally irritating editor, with nothing but the beautiful, sprawling forests to keep you company.

The mountains are familiar, if isolating, you think, leaning against the porch railing with a warm mug in hand as the breeze picks up and the tall maple and birch trees rustle in response. The leaves are turning vibrant reds and gold with the falling temperatures and even in the eerie quiet of the cold morning, you can’t deny that it’s breathtaking.

It reminds you of your childhood, the countless vacations you’d spent here with your family, always in autumn, always in time to watch the leaves change before the first snows of winter set in. Fond memories of running through the trees chasing after cute little bunnies, giggling even when you tripped up and scraped your knees. There was something mystical about the forest back then, something special. But it’s been years since you’ve been here last, and the first time you’ve ever come alone.

And yet it feels different somehow, colder despite the nostalgia. You’re no longer a child, looking at the world through innocent, wondrous eyes. The forest is just a forest.

Of course, you weren’t an idiot; disappearing off the grid was one thing. Disappearing off the grid without anybody knowing where you were going was another entirely. They’d been surprisingly supportive of the plan – until you told them where it was you were planning on running off to.

‘Why go back to the mountain, honey?’ your mother had asked, her smile wavering and an odd tightness in her eyes. ‘Why not go to the coast instead? Or spend some time in the city?’

But this isn’t a fun little vacation. You don’t want to be distracted by beaches and crowds, you need space to finish your book and time to work through your mess of an emotional state without any interruptions. You want to be untraceable, at least for a week or two.

God knows the last thing you need right now is your ex tracking you down to try and apologise again.

Part of you had thought – somewhat naively, perhaps – that by coming back you’d spark… something. Your memories of the mountains are full of warmth and happiness, but as you stare out into the wilderness, all you feel is a cool chill that runs down your spine and the goosebumps that prickle at your skin.

Setting your now empty mug down, you pull tighter at the thick knit cardigan draped over your shoulders. Enough reminiscing, your manuscript awaits.

—

The mountain’s too quiet. You don’t notice it so much during the day, the sound of music softly pouring from your laptop and the gentle clacking of keys as you type enough to distract you from the eerie stillness outside the cabin. Even at night, you’re preoccupied with dinner, and then curled up on the couch with a warm throw rug watching reruns of your favourite shows on Netflix.

It’s only when you lie down, burrowed into the blankets to try and sleep that you notice just how silent the forest at your doorstep truly is. At first you think it’s simply being away from the hustle and bustle of home. There’s no cars driving past, or the sound of neighbours floating through your open windows, there’s not even the distant hooting of owls or dogs barking.

But it’s more than just quiet. There’s nothing. Even the trees seem to still once the sun falls beneath the horizon. And it shouldn't bother you, shouldn’t unsettle you, and yet…

The first few nights, you don’t sleep well. Tossing and turning in bed. When you do sleep, your dreams are plagued with unpleasant things. Not nightmares as such, but an uneasiness that bleeds into otherwise pleasant thoughts. On the fourth night you wake, gasping for air. Whatever dream you’d been in the grips of fades like smoke, and as you draw in another shuddering breath your throat itches and burns.

Water. You need water.

You don’t switch on the lights as you fumble your way down to the kitchen, trying to preserve what little remnants of sleep are still in your system. Even with the moon almost full and the night sky clear, the canopy shrouds it.

And it’s in that darkness, as your eyes flicker up from the faucet, that you see it for the first time.

A shape, huge and looming, silk shadow against black.

For a moment, as your heart hammers against your ribs, a chill creeping down your spine, you don’t dare trust your eyes. Maybe you’re asleep still, dreaming, or your mind’s playing tricks on you, because there’s nothing that should be lurking in the woods outside of your window that size.

Two golden, cat-like eyes peer back at you.

They’re still there when you race to flick on the lights, unblinking, curious as you skitter backwards, hand over your racing heart.

You’re tired, emotionally drained and this–

This is nothing more than a figment of an overactive imagination, a child creating monsters from the shadows in their bedroom. Yet even as you run back to the safety of the bedroom, yank the curtains shut and huddle under the meagre warmth your blankets afford you, squeezing your eyes shut, you feel it out there still, watching.

And in the stillness of the mountains outside, you swear you hear footsteps.

—

You wake to fresh snow, too early in the year, even at these altitudes. It dusts the ground, covering the mossy paths in glittering white, clings to the branches of the trees – the red leaves looking like droplets of blood scattered across a grey sky. The snow will undoubtedly melt as the sun rises, turn to slush and mix with the dirt, but for now it’s a thing of beauty.

For a moment, you allow yourself to forget how tired you are, how unsettled, venturing out from the cabin with wide, excitable eyes. It never used to snow when you were here as a kid, and while you get the occasional snowfall back home, it’s nothing like–

You stop dead in your tracks.

There’s two human footprints imprinted on the snow – only two – right outside your bedroom window, crisp and clean, as if they’d been left just moments before.

—

Your mother sounds worried when you call her. Of course, you don’t tell her about the lone footprints at your window, or the creepy pair of eyes you’d seen through the dark, you know how that sounds. You’re not crazy, and even if some part of you truly believed what you’d seen, your mom is the last person you’d admit it to.

Once upon a time, when you were little, she’d indulged in stories of fairies and spirits, but that was a long time ago. Now she turns up her nose and sneers at the myths and legends that your grandma still spouts, dismissing them with a scoff.

It’s not the kind of thing well-adjusted adults talk about in polite conversation.

She’s a good woman, but you can’t tell her this.

And you’re not even sure you’re entirely sold on it either. The eyes could have been from a wild animal – big cats might be rare in Japan, but they do exist here. You were half asleep (half terrified) when you had seen them, you don’t want to make a fuss over nothing. The footprints are less easy to explain away. If there’d been tracks leading away, you could convince yourself that it was a lost hiker and nothing more.

But there weren’t any tracks leading away; just the two footprints. And what kind of hiker doesn’t wear shoes in weather like this? It’s possible that this is some kind of prank, a mean spirited trick designed to unsettle you – a job well done, by the way – but you can’t quite bring yourself to believe that either.

In any case, you’re hardly going to admit over the phone that you’re freaking out over some footprints in the snow. God knows she’s already worried enough about your mental state, has been ever since the breakup, and you’re not going to give her any more ammunition.

But perhaps there is something to that maternal instinct, because despite your best efforts to reassure her that you’re doing just fine, that your novel’s going great and you’re so glad you came out here, she still sounds entirely unconvinced.

“Honey, you know you can tell me if something’s wrong,” she tells you, her voice strangely hesitant. “You don’t sound yourself, are you sure everything’s okay?”

You don’t know why you called her at all. You always have been a shitty liar, and she’s always been able to see right through you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Honestly the fresh air’s doing me good,” you tell her. “It’s weirdly quiet here though, I’m not used to it,” you laugh, and even to your ears it sounds hollow and fake.

There’s a heavy pause on the other end of the line, and if you close your eyes you can almost picture it, your mom leaning against the kitchen counter, teeth worrying into her bottom lip–

“I just don’t like you out there all by yourself.”

Relax, what’s the worst that could happen?

The words almost, almost slip out, an instinctive reaction to a mother’s well meaning but overbearing concern. But it feels like tempting fate, and whether or not you’re fully convinced that there is something strange happening, you’re not that bold. Instead you begin to tell her (again) that everything’s fine when she suddenly speaks again.

“Bad things happen in those mountains. Just… just promise me you’ll be safe.”

Abruptly, the line goes dead.

Pulling the phone from your ear, you glance down at the illuminated screen, only to frown when you see the little ‘SOS Only’ flashing in the top corner. Huh, you’d had a few bars when you’d started the call, but…

The weather’s gotta be messing with your signal. Stranger things have happened, right?

Shaking your head you resolve to give her a call tomorrow. And yet, even as you try to put her parting words from your mind and throw yourself back into your writing, you can’t help but feel that familiar sense of cloying unease seeping through your skin once more.

What the hell had she meant, ‘bad things happen in those mountains’?

—

A good night’s sleep can do you wonders.

Well, theoretically speaking. You can’t remember the last actual decent sleep you’d had, but regardless, the point stands. All you need is an uninterrupted eight or nine hours, and this… paranoia will go away. Things’ll be clearer in the morning, so long as you sleep.

The mantra doesn’t help you any, of course.

You don’t need to peer through the window to feel those watchful eyes staring. And maybe it would be easier to ignore the prickling sensation at the nape of your neck if it weren’t for the noises.

Music isn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of the mournful wails, like a wounded animal crying out in pain. It’s incessant, inescapable, reverberating inside of your eardrums until it’s all you can focus on.

It’s instinctual, you think, the urge to creep from your bed and try to find the creature making that sound and help it. But even as your feet touch the cool floorboards, your gut clenches, hackles rising. Something deep inside of you warns you from leaving the safety of the cabin.

Whatever creature is making those noises, it’s not calling for help.

You don’t feel like you’ve slept at all, but you must have because at a certain point in the morning you blink your eyes awake, exhaustion clinging to you like a second skin.

And this time it’s not snow that greets you, but the mangled remains of a doe ripped apart on your porch. Deep, jagged gouge marks run along its flank, organs spilling from the cuts and there’s little left of its neck, the whole thing torn out with teeth. Yet for the gruesome injuries, the only blood you find is congealed, pooled beneath the poor creature.

Whatever happened to it, it didn’t happen here. The knowledge doesn’t soothe you like it should – the park ranger you spoke to on the phone mentioned that while it’s rare, sometimes bears venture a little too close to buildings, though he sounds doubtful even as he says it.

He sounds even less interested when you tell him this doesn’t look like a bear attack, but promises they’ll send someone down in the next few days to check everything out. In the meantime, he suggests, it’s best to stay indoors.

Yeah, not gonna be an issue.

And so with no feasible way of moving it, you’re left with the butchered corpse of a doe just outside your front door. And the thing that bothers you isn’t so much the body, though you still can’t look at it without wanting to throw up, but the fact that it was just… left there.

Not eaten. No, aside from the missing throat, the deer’s all there. Ripped apart with its guts spilling out, but otherwise untouched. Growing up you had a cat, the sweetest little thing, but every once in a while she would get out of a night, find some poor little creature to torment and without fail, she’d bring it back home, leaving it half dead on the doorstep like a gift.

‘See what a good hunter I am?’ she seemed to say, smugly sauntering back inside.

It wasn’t about food. It wasn’t hunger that drove her, but instinct. As you stare out the window at the doe, at the milky white emptiness of dead eyes, you wonder whether that’s the same here. There’s no tracks in the dirt, no blood smeared across the ground – it wasn’t dragged here. No animal could’ve done this.

A gift?

Or perhaps something less benevolent. A threat. You’ve crossed into territory you don’t belong and the deer, cruelly ripped apart and left to bleed out on your doorstep is a line in the sand.

Either way, as tears fill your eyes, a sob tugging free from your chest, you realise that it was a mistake to come here. You don’t know whether you trust your eyes and your ears anymore, but there is something deep inside of you that tolls like a warning bell and as much as you’d like to bury your head in the sand and pretend there’s nothing wrong here, you can’t.

Bad things happen in those mountains.

You need to leave.

The next ferry to the mainland doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning, but it’ll have to do. Once you stop shaking and calm down enough to carry a conversation, you call the local cab company to arrange a pick-up first thing.

You can survive one more night, you just need to throw yourself back into your writing… if you can only just ignore that sense of foreboding prickling at the back of your neck.

—

There’s a boy running through the trees, giggling as he glances back at you. His hand’s outstretched, wrapped ‘round yours tugging you along as he laughs at you to hurry up.

It’s late, the sun dipping below the horizon, but you don’t wanna go back just yet.

You’re having fun, playing in the forest. And the light is golden, filtering in through the pretty red leaves, your sides burn a little from all the chasing and laughter but it’s a good kind of ache. You don’t want today to end.

His name is Kohsuke, you remember, and he lives down in the village by the valley. He’s only one year older than you, and you’d follow him anywhere.

You think you might be a little in love with him.

‘C’mon, hurry up! It’s only a little further!’ he calls, and you nod, scrambling over the fallen trunk of an oak tree. There’s old spirits who live in this forest, he’d told you, and today you’re finally gonna see one.

It’s dark now. Cold too. You’re tired and hungry and you kinda want to go home, but Kohsuke won’t let you. ‘Just a little longer! Don’t you wanna see them?’

You do. Of course you do. It’s just that you’re starting to get a funny feeling in your stomach… Can he hear the footsteps too? Is somebody following you?

There’s a voice in your ear, a soft, silky purr that makes a shiver roll down your spine, but you can’t make sense of the words, they’re not in any language you understand. You don’t tell Kohsuke – he can’t hear it, otherwise he would have said something. You just clutch his hand tighter, skipping closer.

‘W-we should go back, Koh,’ you murmur, wincing when it comes out in a childish whine. ‘We’re gonna get in trouble.’

You aren’t supposed to stay out playing after dark, he knows it as well as you do. ‘You trust me, don’t you? Stop being such a chicken!’ he snickers as your cheeks heat.

The voice at your ear growls, low and threatening. You need to go back, now.

You blink, and the scene changes.

You’re curled up on the forest floor, hands covering your eyes. Somebody’s screaming – Kohsuke – crying out your name through ragged sobs, pleading–

There’s a crunch, a ripping sound, a wetness sprayed across your cheek.

Kohsuke’s not screaming anymore.

Something warm and heavy touches your head, drags through the locks of your hair and you just huddle tighter, eyes squeezed shut, shaking like a leaf as more tears spill. You don’t wanna die here.

The crunching sounds continue, and you keep your eyes tightly shut. It can’t hurt you if you don’t look.

It can’t hurt you if you don’t look.

It can’t–

A loud knocking jerks you back to consciousness, your body jolting upright, almost swiping your laptop off the table as you try and gather your bearings. Right, you’d been working on your novel, sitting up at the kitchen table, you must have dozed off… A quick glance out the window tells you that you must have been out of it for a while – the late afternoon shadows are starting to creep in, the sky a golden orange.

What the hell was that dream?!

“Hello? Uh, anybody home?” a masculine voice calls, another loud knock sounding. “We got a call about a wild animal attacking deer…”

Oh, you think, trying to shake yourself out of your stupor, the wildlife people, yeah. You feel a little nauseous, feverish and trembling, though maybe that’s just the result of your erratic heartbeat.

Swallowing down the bile in your throat, you turn your attention to the door. Truly you hadn’t actually expected that they’d send anybody out to investigate, much less that they’d arrive before you left, but you can hardly turn him away now.

Especially not when there’s a freshly butchered deer corpse lying only a few feet away from your front door. Quickly, you run a hand over your hair, taking a moment to try and collect yourself before you answer.

It doesn’t work – there’s a knot in your throat and for every step you take towards the door it feels like your legs are gonna give out from under you. You move in a daze to unlock the door, only just remembering to school your features into an expression slightly less alarming as it swings open.

A ranger, tall with a shock of black, messy hair that reminds you oddly of a rooster greets you with an easy grin. “Oh good, I was starting to think nobody was home. You the one that called?”

Distantly, you nod, fingers clutching at the edge of the doorframe. The ranger glances over at the remains of the deer, still lying in a pool of half dried blood, studying it for a moment, hazel eyes sweeping over the deep gashes in its side. You can’t bear to follow his gaze, you’re not sure you can look at that thing again without throwing up.

He whistles lowly, shaking his head, “Well you don’t see that every day,” he laughs.

Your eyes snap to his, narrowing slightly. It’s not his fault, you know that, but you can’t help the flicker of irritation that sparks at the cavalier attitude. This is just his job, you get it, but you don’t exactly feel like laughing right now.

“You still think a bear did this?” you retort, the words coming out a little sharper than intended.

But the ranger takes it in stride, shrugging as his smirk widens. “A bear, huh?” Amusement glitters in his eyes, sharp and mocking. “Why don’t I come inside and you can tell me all about it?” he offers, stepping closer towards you.

And there’s no reason for your heart to skitter, your blood running cold as he looms over you in the doorway, still wearing that stupid, irritating smirk. There’s no reason for your insides to clench either, or for the tiny, jerky step backwards you take, your body moving of its own accord.

The ranger pauses, head tilting to the side as he stares at you.

Really stares, like he’s waiting for something. And as discomfited as you are (and as much of an asshole as this guy is), a weary apology is halfway to your tongue when he shifts slightly, propping an arm up against the door – the last, dying rays of light catching his face.

It’s just for a second.

A heartbeat.

But long enough for you to watch those hazel eyes shift to gold, pupils elongating into slits.

You stumble backwards, breath coming in a short, ragged gasp as your eyes widen into saucers. “What are you?”

The ranger before you chuckles and you catch a glimpse of his teeth; pearly white and glinting, sharper than they had been only moments ago. “Why don’t you let me in and find out for yourself, kitten?”

You shake your head, retreating further into the cabin, heart pounding.

“No? You don’t like this body, is that it?” he asks, a cruel edge to his smirk as he takes a half step backwards and slowly spreads his arms. “Something more familiar, then.”

And you don’t think there’s any room left in your heart for more fear, your stomach already twisting in sickening knots, but you blink and standing right there in front of you is Kohsuke.

It’s a punch in the guts, a knife slipped between your ribs, yanked ruthlessly through your still beating heart. He’s beaming up at you, those same adorable dimples, the same ridiculous bowl cut, bleeding youthful innocence. “How about now?” he asks, holding out his hand and wriggling his fingers like he expects you to take it. “You’ll let me inside now, right?”

A strangled noise escapes you as you fall to your knees. Tears fill your eyes, blurring your vision – you blink them away but more take their place.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asks, and you wail in response.

It’s too much. You shake your head, hugging yourself tightly, as if your arms are the only thing keeping you from falling apart entirely.

He calls your name – not in Kohsuke’s childish lilt, but that deep, ancient purr that makes the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “Let me in.”

“Go away,” you gasp through tears. “Please– please go away.”

The creature shifts again, the dark haired ranger back in Kohsuke’s place. He eyes you, those unnatural gold irises watching with utter enthralment as you sob pathetically on the floor, still pleading – though you know it’ll do you no good – for him to leave.

“Last chance, kitten. Let me in, or I’ll make you come out.”

He – it – doesn’t sound nearly as put out by the prospect as it should be.

And you don’t know why giving permission matters, all you know, all you care about, is that it’s keeping that thing at bay for now. It can’t come inside and so long as you don’t leave the safety of the cabin, it can’t hurt you. The words are nothing but an empty threat.

Right?

You shake your head, defiant even as your voice hitches and trembles, “No.”

“Stubborn little thing,” the creature croons, the smirk on its face widening until the visage no longer resembles anything human – mouth splitting its face in two, rows of long, sharp teeth revealed. “So be it.”

A low growl resonates in its chest, and you can only watch, petrified, as thin, vein-like black marks begin to appear over pale skin, growing thicker, cracking as shadow curls from underneath. The creature itself starts to grow too, limbs elongating as muscles ripple and swell, claws bursting forth in place of fingernails, shoulders broadening – until it’s towering over you, wreathed in thick shadow, grinning with that terrifying mouth.

This is the thing you’d glimpsed that first night. A creature ripped from nightmares and primal fears, strong enough to tear you apart with a single hand. That’s what it’d done to Kohsuke, to the doe, what it’d do to you if you gave it half a chance.

“You wanna play, kitten?” it asks, head tilting to the side.

Slowly, it backs away from the door, keeping its gaze fixed firmly on you. For a moment, you think that it’s going to disappear back into the forest, or plant itself by your window to watch for another night, waiting you out till dawn, but instead it stops by the old oak that overhangs the porch and stills entirely, simply… waiting.

“Let’s play.”

Abruptly, the oak beside it bursts into flames. It takes only a heartbeat for the entire thing to be engulfed, red and orange flames licking along the trunk, the gnarled, spindly branches, even the leaves are alight, burning away into ash and floating off in the breeze. The heat from one tree alone is searing, the crackle of burning wood and your own horrified, shuddering breath the only sounds in the night.

It snowed only a few nights before, but the fire spreads with unnatural ease, flames racing across the canopy, embers lighting up the undergrowth, and in the space of a few seconds there’s an inferno raging through the forest before you. And through the smoke and the red, burning haze, the creature watches, smirking.

The heat from the wildfire sears painfully at your skin, the air around you suddenly thick with smoke, stinging your eyes, choking your lungs, and yet you can’t seem to tear yourself away. It’s like a dream, a nightmare, some kind of… hellscape.

And for a moment you forget that there was a purpose to this, too lost staring in mute horror as the forest you’d played in as a child burns–

At least until a single leaf from the oak tree, edges curling as it’s consumed by flames, falls, carried by the breeze and lands on the wooden railing of the porch. With a soft whoosh, the old wooden beam catches fire, and with your chest heaving, panicked breaths falling from parted lips, you rise to your feet as flames spread, the fire eating everything in its path until the entire porch is alight, burning.

Run.

You don’t know if the voice in your head is yours or not, you don’t have time to care. You scramble for the back door, throwing it open, and you run.

Run until your lungs burn, til’ your bare feet are scratched and bleeding, run, pushed forward by the sweltering heat at your back, the chilling crackle of laughter that follows. You run through tears, through pain and air so thick with smoke that it hurts to breathe.

And you know the creature’s giving chase, you know that you won’t – can’t – outrun it, nor the inferno that blazes around you. You know that it’s futile, that you’re probably running to your death, but that’s human, isn’t it?

To run when you’re scared?

The sky’s awash with a hazy red glow when it catches you, throwing you to the ground, and still you try to crawl. Desperate, choking on broken pleas and sobs, nails raking through the dirt as you try to pull yourself forward.

And when your pants are ripped from your legs, a puff of warm air ghosting over the nape of your neck as you’re shoved back down, those long, black arms settling either side of you, caging you in – you know that you’ve lost.

“Mine,” the creature growls, and you barely have time to scream before its cock shoves into you with one brutal, merciless thrust. “Mine.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere kuroo tetsurou #yandere kuroo tetsurou x reader #monster fic #horror fic #tw noncon #tw: noncon #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: minor character death #tw: animal death #i am sorry #except not really tho

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edna-skiffens · 3 years

Text

The Best Medicine

Summary: You are in the hospital, but you can never sleep in hospitals. Good thing you have a very attractive night shift nurse who is willing to help out.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: hospitals, light med talk, bad medical writing, fluff

A/N: Please ignore the plot holes or the fact that this isn’t the most realistic and also I know this isn’t how discharge works at the hospital.. It’s called fiction for a reason, darling. Also, I left the reason the reader is in the hospital open ended bc some of us may have medical conditions/reasons that we can attach to this, but if not I tried to keep it vague enough on purpose so that you can imagine whatever. Also if you like Nurse!Tom and have requests for him lmk bc i’m happy to write for him.

Toss and turn. Toss and turn. The routine was getting old. This was your third night in the hospital and sleep just wasn’t coming to you.

Maybe it was the medicine they had you on. Maybe it was the constant symphony of sounds and people passing in the hallway. Maybe it was because you weren’t at home in your own bed.

Maybe it was just because you were in the hospital.

You couldn’t be sure. What you were sure of is that you weren’t falling asleep anytime soon.

Feeling another presence in the room, you looked from the ceiling to the doorway where you saw Tom, one of the night shift nurses, standing cautiously.

“I didn’t wake you did I?” He asked as he eased his way inside.

“Nope.”

“So no sleep again, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Sorry darling. Let’s go ahead and get these vitals over with.” He took your blood pressure, oxygen levels, temperature and wrote it down in your chart. Putting the clipboard back on its hook at the end of the bed, he looked up at your tired face. “Okay. So now about that sleep. What do you think will help?”

“Not being in the hospital.”

He chuckled lightly while walking back towards your bedside.

“I know. You hate it here. You’ve made that very clear and I try not to take too much offense to it.” You let out a slight laugh and held back the fact that he was the best part of this whole experience. He almost made it worth it. “I’m sorry we can’t give you any sleeping medication. Do you think it’ll help if I talk to you?”

“You mean tell me bedtime stories?” You couldn’t help but tease him at the adorable suggestion, though it sent a swarm of butterflies off in your stomach.

“I was thinking more like bore you ‘till you fell asleep. But whatever works.”

“You’re the nurse. If you think it’ll help.” You both sat there smirking at each other for a moment. Something unspoken floating in the air between you two.

“Well, I need to finish my round of vitals first. I’ll come check on you when I’m done and if you’re still up we’ll see about those stories.”

“I’ll be here.”

About fifteen or twenty minutes later you heard a light tap on your door followed by “Still awake?”

“Always.”

“You up for a chat?” Tom asked as he made his way to the stool then rolled slightly closer to your bed.

“Got nothing better to do.” You teased again.

“Okay. Well you should probably lay down.”

“Oh. It’s going to be that kind of story, huh?” His laugh was so beautiful and you were happy you were the cause of it.

“No.” He corrected in between laughs “The goal is to get you to sleep. So sitting up won’t help.”

“Right. Right.”

“Well.. anything in particular you’d like to talk about?”

“Why did you choose to become a nurse?”

“Ahhh. Good question. So I actually went to an art school.” You couldn’t help the brief expression of surprise that crossed your face. “I know. Shocking. I did training specifically in dance and gymnastics and I loved it.”

“Wait, so what happened?” You asked, turning on your side to face him more comfortably.

“Well one day we were rehearsing for a show and I fell. Ruined my knee. Had to do physical therapy for months. I tried to get back into it, but it just wasn’t the same. However, through that process I learned a lot about medicine and the health side of things. It really turned me on to it. And when my Plan A got a bit messed up I thought ‘hey, this could work’. So far it’s treated me pretty well.”

You smiled at Tom, admiring his passion for his career and the determination he had to keep pushing after his accident. You enjoyed hearing him talk about it too. If you didn’t know any better you would say it was helping you relax.

“My story that boring?”

“Obviously.”

“Your sarcasm has no end.”

“Oh… goodness.. you thought that was sarcasm?”

Tom only laughed and shook his head the way he often did with you.

You may just have been his patient and he may have just been your nurse, but you both bonded. He kept you company and gave you comfort. In return, you kept him entertained during the quiet night shifts.

“I’m not going to sleep. I'm just resting my eyes. But still listening.” You told him as you nestled further into the hospital bed, trying to find a position that would make it comfortable.

“Okay, darling.” He grinned at you.

“Tell me more. What kind of-” You had to stop to yawn, “What kind of art stuff did you do?”

“Oh. Well, I was in a few musicals. I really enjoyed dancing. I did ballet ever since I was young and I love the control I have over my body. The tricks I can do with gymnastics or the turns and leaps. I mean I can’t do them to that level anymore, but I try to stay active.” He glanced up and noticed you hadn’t moved, “Are you still with me?”

“Mhm.” You barely respond.

“Okay. Well it was a performing arts school so we really were trained in many areas. We had classes in acting, singing, dancing, all of it. It was a lot of fun and I met my best friends there.”

Tom began telling stories about his time at school. Before he knew it, he lost himself and track of time. He looked back at you, quiet and still.

“Y/N?” You were finally asleep. “Goodnight, darling.” He whispered as he gently made his exit.

Because Tom worked the night shift, you never saw him when you woke in the morning. Instead, Tanya, a sweet nurse that felt like a big sister, or Linda, Nurse Ratched in the flesh, came in for morning vitals and meds.

You counted down the days until your release. Life in the hospital was pretty uneventful with the limit on visitors and limited activity. There’s only so many sitcoms one can take in a given timespan. The only thing that you really looked forward to each night was when Tom clocked in.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Tom.” You would smile at each other.

“How are we feeling today?”

“Better. Ready to get out of here.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you are feeling better and still ready to jailbreak.” He smiled while writing something down on your chart. “They should be bringing up your dinner tray soon and then I’ll bring by your evening meds after that.”

“Okay.”

“If you need me you know what to do.” He called to you before walking out the door.

You were disappointed when Shelley brought your evening meds by later. She was a nice enough nurse. She just wasn’t Tom.

You’d grown accustomed to mainly having him as your nurse during the evening shift. At first you weren’t sure if it was coincidence or on purpose, but after a few nights of staying up and talking, you grew closer to him. You saw less of the other nursing staff and more of Tom.

You tried not to build anything up in your head. You were sure everything he was doing was in his job description and a part of being a good nurse.

He would sneak you extra pudding cups from the cafeteria and bring you an extra heated blanket because you could never stay warm. If you needed a new IV, he held your hand to ease the anxiety. He kept you company and made you feel less alone in such a sterile and intimidating place. And when he noticed you had trouble sleeping he chose to sit with you to help you fall asleep. You couldn’t help the butterflies that built in your stomach.

It became a sort of routine. He checked on you during evening vitals, even if someone else was doing them, and you were always still awake. He would then come and sit with you and chat for a bit, telling you different stories until you eventually fell asleep.

Some nights when you were extra restless he would help you walk the halls.

“The doctors have to see you’re stable enough before you can be discharged. Plus, maybe it’ll tire you out.” He suggested.

He would help get your IV pole ready so you could walk with it. He helped you into your slippers and eased you out of bed after passing you your robe.

Walking the hall slowly, Tom knew he had to remain professional, yet he found a few excuses to graze his hand across your back to ‘steady you’ when you turned corners or he thought you were looking tired.

“It might take me a while to get back to my usual jogs in the park, huh?” You laughed in spite of yourself.

“You’ll get there. Baby steps.” He encouraged, as you turned around the Nurse’s Station. You missed the faces the other night shift nurses were giving you both, but Tom was sure to subtly flick them off. “So, do you like running?” He asked as you headed back towards your room.

Throughout your late nights together, he told you of his three younger brothers and his dog named Tessa. You spoke about what you would do when you were out of hospital. He talked about his friends and flatmates and the adventures they had. He told you many stories, but each morning when you woke up he was clocked out and the day shift nurses were there.

Tonight was your last night. You’re set to be discharged tomorrow and while you are ecstatic to go home, you’re going to miss one thing about this place.

“I bet you’re too excited to sleep tonight. I don’t know if my stories will even help.” Tom said as he sat down next to you.

You smiled up to him sweetly.

“What are you looking forward to the most once you get out of here?”

“Sleeping in my own bed.”

“Well that’s no surprise.” Tom laughed, a contagious sound making you giggle as well. “Isn’t there anything you’ll miss about this place?”

“Yeah.” He smiled “There’s one thing.”

“What’s that?” He asks.

“The pudding cups.”

“Ahh the pudding cups of course.” You giggled while fiddling with the IV line.

“They just don’t taste the same in the outside world.”

His smile grew wider as you giggled.

“No, but really. As much as I give this place grief and say I’m ready to get out of here - which I am,” You gave him a pointed look to which he held his hands up in mock surrender, fully believing you, “it hasn’t been too terribly awful I guess.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad we could make your stay not too terribly awful.. I guess.” He teased. “Do you have anything exciting to look forward to once you’re a free woman?”

“Nothing huge planned, really. The doctors did say to take it easy.”

“That’d be wise.”

“Yeah. I’ll just lay low for a while. My sister said she may try to come visit me though so that would be nice.”

“Oh that would be nice. She’s your older sister right?”

“Right. She moved away last year to be closer to her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Do you like him?”

“Sorry?”

“This boyfriend. Do you like him?”

“He’s alright, I suppose. He makes her happy.” Tom nodded along.

“And do you have a boyfriend that makes you happy?”

“N-No. No I don’t. Not at the moment.” You began fiddling with the IV cord again.

“No boyfriend or not a boyfriend that makes you happy?” He asked.

“Neither.”

“Well that’s a shame.” If the heart monitor was connected you would’ve been screwed. “I just mean someone needs to look after you once you get home. I hope this sister comes through for a visit. You’ve got to take it easy.”

“Oh I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be.” He smiled.

“How has your shift been tonight? Busy?” You asked, fighting back a yawn.

“A bit busier than usual. There was a slight emergency earlier which is why Shelley handed out meds tonight. Sorry I didn’t come around.”

“It’s alright. I know you have other patients.”

“Yeah, but none like you.” You were sure he said that to all of his patients. After all, you’ve heard similar lines ever since you went to the pediatrician as a child. But it still gave you butterflies.

“Are you getting sleepy?”

“A little. But it’s okay.” He gave you a pointed look but continued to talk anyway. “It’s the last night. One final request for storytime. Make it a good one.”

You thought for a moment before asking your question.

“Do you ever wish that life turned out differently? That you never had your accident and you could’ve followed your dreams to be a dancer?” You asked while turning on your side and getting more comfortable.

“Sometimes. At least, I used to. But I think I’ve accepted it now. And I really can’t see myself doing anything but this.” You nodded taking in his answer “I look at it this way. If it wasn’t for my injury then I never would’ve changed my career path and found my love for medicine. I never would have made so many of the friends I’ve made or the memories I’ve made. I never would have met you.” He finishes with a sweet smile.

“That’s a very positive way of looking at it.” You told him. “Be honest, are you a therapist during the day?” He laughed out loud.

“No. I’m not. I guess I’m a big believer in ‘everything happens for a reason’.” You nodded while covering a yawn.

“So I’ve been curious to ask you,” He began, “Do you usually have this much trouble sleeping? Because you can get help for that you know?” You smiled at him.

“What? I thought a night nurse talking to you was the cure?” Tom smirked and shook his head. “I’m kidding. No, I normally don’t. It’s just the stiff sheets and hospital sounds I think.”

“Darn hospital.” He rolled his eyes and joked. “So this time tomorrow you’ll be sound asleep in your own bed then?”

You knew it was meant to be a happy statement, but you were a little sad at the thought of not having any more late night chats with Tom.

“Yes. Thank God.” You forced a smile.

You felt another yawn coming and tried to hold it back. It was already past the usual time that you fell asleep.

Tom could tell you were exhausted so he launched into a story from nursing school, hoping to lull you to sleep.

You yawned your way through listening, trying to soak up every last moment with Tom. In the morning he wouldn’t be here. You’d leave and likely never see him again.

When he finished, your eyes were half open and he wondered how you were still awake. Or maybe why.

“Why are you fighting it? The point is to sleep. Give in.” He told you gently after another yawn.

You looked up at him, half asleep and rubbing your eyes, not finding the confidence to tell him the true reason you were trying to stay awake.

“I’m happy right now.”

He smiled down at you.

“I am too. But you need your sleep, darling.” You weren’t sure what to say and you didn’t have much energy left in you anyway. “How about this. I’ve probably been in here too long as it is. Let me go check in at the Nurse’s Station and then I’ll come back and check on you soon and see if you’re still awake okay?”

The thought that he was leaving gave you a sad feeling in your stomach. You tried to remind yourself that he was just your nurse. Nothing more.

“Okay.” You smiled at him, sleepily, while settling further into the bed.

He stood up and instead of walking towards the door he walked closer to you. He grabbed the thin, white hospital blanket and pulled it closer around your shoulders.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispered before he walked to the door.

“Tom?” You called out just before he opened it. He turned around with an expectant look, “Thanks for everything.”

Even though the room was dim you could see his smile.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Get some sleep.”

You don’t remember much after that. You don’t know if Tom came back to check on you. You just remember falling asleep with a smile on your face.

When you woke up the following morning it felt like any other morning in the hospital.

The hallways were much louder. Beeps, chatter, and phones were constant. The lights were brighter.

But you were quickly reminded that it wasn’t any other morning. You were going home today.

The door creaked open and Tanya, one of your regular daytime nurses, poked her head in.

“Oh good you’re up.” She made her way inside and over to the gloves. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. Thanks.” She gave you a smile, something hidden behind it.

“I’m sure.” She said quietly to herself. You gave her a questioning look. “Oh I just mean I’m sure you’re excited to get out of here.”

You nodded as she took your vitals one last time.

“Everything looks good. What do you say about getting this IV out?”

“I say that sounds amazing.”

She took it out and bandaged up your arm while informing you of how the morning would go.

“Dr. McCoy is making rounds now then he’ll be by soon to go over your discharge. You can get dressed whenever you’re ready. If you need help, buzz me. You’ll still have a breakfast tray come, but you don’t have to eat it.” She gave you a wink while taking off her gloves.

“Thanks Tanya.”

“Of course, sweetie. And in case I don’t see you before you go, you’ve been a wonderful patient. Take care of yourself.” You smiled at her as she left you to change into some leggings and a sweatshirt.

You were packing your remaining things into your bag when your doctor walked in.

“Y/N! How are we doing today?”

“We’re doing great because we’re going home.” You smiled while taking a seat to rest for a few minutes.

“I know you’re excited.” He laughed before explaining the conditions of your discharge. You had medicines to take, a follow up appointment, and strict instructions to rest for the next few weeks. After signing some forms he left you with a stack of papers. “Is someone coming to pick you up?”

“Yeah my neighbor should be here within an hour.”

“Sounds good. Don’t hesitate to call us or come back in if you have any trouble or questions.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

A few minutes after he left a nurse brought in your breakfast tray. There wasn’t much of a point for it but since your discharge wasn’t technically until 10:30 am you were still a patient during breakfast.

You took the pudding cup that you requested with every meal off the tray before sliding it away. Smiling to yourself, you tucked it away in your bag. All you had left to do was wait for 10:30.

Tanya came in to check on you again and told you to buzz the Nurse’s Station when you knew your ride was here. At 10:27 you had a text from your neighbor that they were out front in the pickup zone. So you hit the call button.

“Yes?” Linda, the scariest dayshift nurse, answered.

“Um hi. Tanya told me to buzz in when my ride was here so I could go down.”

“Okay we’ll be right in.”

Not even a minute later you heard your door open. Expecting to see Tanya or maybe even Linda you looked up.

An audible gasp left your lips when Tom stood in your doorway with a wheelchair.

“I hear someone needs a ride?” He smiled as he made his way closer to the bed.

“Tom. What are you still doing here?”

“I pulled a double.” You wanted to ask why, but decided against it. You were still in a little bit of shock from seeing him again. “If you’d rather I can go get Linda to walk you down?” He pointed back towards your door.

“No! No.. I’m just surprised s’all.”

“Well come on. I thought you’d be running out of this place once the clock hit 10:30.” Glancing up you saw it was now 10:34. Your neighbor is probably tired of waiting already.

You grabbed your discharge papers and reached for your bag when you heard, “I got it.” Smiling at him, you sat down in the wheelchair. Tom placed the bag around his shoulder and kicked the brakes off the chair. “Ready?” You nodded up at him.

He rolled you out of the room that felt so small for a final time. You passed the Nurse’s Station and waved bye to the staff. He turned by the elevators and when you looked up at him in question, he read your mind. Looked down at you he said, “We’re taking the staff elevators.”

When you made it there he hit the button, turning you around and backing you in once the doors opened. He hit the button for the Lobby and leaned up against the wall of the elevator, briefly glancing at you, as you rode down together.

“Well you made it. You’re a free woman.” He smiled shyly.

“Yippee.” He met your eyes for a moment before looking back to the floor. The dynamics felt different. It wasn’t like your late night talks together.

“Listen, Y/N.” Tom began as he stood up from the wall and faced you. He was about to continue when the elevator ding cut him off, signaling you had reached your destination.

Maybe that was what was different. You had reached your destination.

You had a fun time talking with Tom and entertaining each other when you were both up late at night. He was fun to get to know and you enjoyed having someone care for you. He was easy to banter with and certainly easy on the eyes. But your time at the hospital was up. You knew it would be eventually. You wanted it to be.

Tom was a nurse. He was just doing his job. He was helping take care of you. He was being nice. He was trying to make your stay more comfortable. There was nothing to read into.

Your time being his patient was up and your time with him was up.

You tried to remain realistic, but the sadness still crept up as he rolled you closer to the door.

Once outside, you saw your neighbor exit the car and wave you over. Tom steered in the direction and slowed before rolling to a stop and hitting the brake locks on the wheels.

“Hi, I’m Taylor.”

“Tom.” They shook hands as Tom passed off your bag for Taylor to put in the backseat.

“I’m sorry for the circumstances, but it really has been a pleasure having you as a patient and getting to know you, Y/N.” Tom admitted as he walked around to face you. He grabbed the papers from your lap. “Take care of yourself, okay?” You had shared many smiles with Tom, but this one felt sadder.

“I will. Thank you for everything, Tom. I mean it.” You reached up and squeezed his hand. He gave you a light squeeze back while smiling down at you. Taylor returned from the backseat of the car and Tom turned to them.

“These are her important papers about follow up appointments, medications, what to do at home, all of that so please make sure she doesn’t lose any of them.” He emphasized the point.

“Got it. Thanks.” Taylor held onto the stack while Tom turned back to you.

“If I can’t handle a few papers on my own, then maybe I shouldn’t be going home yet, Tom.” You laughed.

“I know, I just wanted to make sure they made it home with you.” He walked closer. “You ready to get in?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. He helped you up, supporting you just as a precaution. Once seated, you took a moment to catch your breath as you pulled the seatbelt down. He met your hand, taking it from you to buckle you in.

“You good?”

You nodded with a smile, “Just a little tired. No biggie.”

He looked you over before returning your smile, though his didn’t quite reach his eyes, “If you need us, call us. Otherwise go home and rest.”

This was it. This was goodbye.

“Thanks, Tom.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

He shut the door. He walked back to the wheelchair, released the brake locks and headed inside. He looked back only when your car was driving away.

“Here’s those papers that are so important.” Taylor handed you the stack after they got in.

“Thanks.”

“So how are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks.” You felt them looking at you as they joined traffic.

“You sure? You sound like you feel awful.”

You try to remind yourself to forget the sweet and attractive nurse and start moving forward.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay.” You decide to distract yourself by reading through your discharge paperwork, when something caught your eye. On top was a sticky note with the hospital’s letterhead. You were sure it wasn’t there before. Looking closer it read,

Y/N,

In case you need someone to talk to when you can’t sleep.

555-5555

P. S. I have a connection to some pretty good pudding cups too.

Tom

The smile that grew on your face was undeniable. All the feelings you suppressed came flooding in. He wasn’t just being nice. He actually liked you.

One thing you knew for sure was that even though you would be in your own bed tonight, you still would be up, talking to a very special nurse.

Lmk if you want to be on my tag list

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland hc #tom holland blurb #tom holland one shot #tom holland headcanon #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom Holland #tom holland x y/n #nurse!tom #nurse!tom au #nurse!tom Holland #nurse!tom x patient!reader #sick!reader #edna skiffens writes #writing #my writing

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lou-struck · 2 years

Text

Slipping Along

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Day 7: Ice Skating

25 Days of Ficmas Masterlist

WC: 900+

Shoto Todoroki is the kind of boyfriend that would move heaven and earth just to see you smile. However, a problem for Shoto is that he has no prior experience when it comes to dating. He is so whipped for you that he is always asking his friends for advice, researching date ideas online, and listening in on couples out in public so that he doesn't disappoint you in any way.

So when he reads online that a popular winter date is Ice Skating, he was a bit confused. With his quirk, Shoto can ice skate whenever he wants to so he doesn't quite understand the appeal of the date. But he trusted his sources and asks you to accompany him the next night he has off from patrol.

He picks you up from your apartment and takes you to a cute-looking outdoor ice rink, it’s fairly busy with people of all ages happily skating around the rink, some showing off, some trying their best not to fall over.

You are all bundled up in a padded jacket, a warm hat, and gloves, you didn't tell Shoto this, but the extra layers are supposed to break your fall once you absolutely eat it on the ice.

He laces up his skates with the silent excellence he is known for while you fumble with the ties. Your thick winter gloves not doing you any favors.

“Do you want me to tie those for you?” he asks noting your struggle “I'm not wearing gloves so I can tie it better.” You nod as he kneels to tie your rental skates. Looking at him in his lightweight jacket, you are surprised that he is not cold. His quirk probably helps with the cold temperature, but it's almost freezing out here, especially by the ice.

Shoto and you sept inside the rink, he pushes off gently gliding along the ice with graceful confidence built from years of practice.

He looks around at everyone, the groups of teens skating in clusters as they try and do tricks that end with them falling over in a tangled pile of limbs and giggles, the children who slide around until they hit a wall since they don't know how to turn, and couples young and old happily skating hand in hand.

That is something he wants to do with you, but where are you. Surprised that you are not at his side, he looks around but cannot find you out in the ice at all. Finally, his gaze lands on a lone figure clinging to the outer wall. His eyes soften when he realizes that it's you.

He skates over to you with a soft smile. “Y/n, why are you stuck to the wall?” he asks as you stop your awkward scooting.

“I, haven't been skating in a while,” you admit bashfully trying desperately not to lose your footing on the slick ice.

“Ill help you get started,” he says before taking your hand in his as he gently pulls you from the wall you had previously been well acquainted with. With his support, you gently glide with him around the rink as Shoto unbotheredly steers you out of the path of fallen children with a dopey smile on his face, happy that this means that he is able to hold your hand publicly for hours. He doesn't even notice that your vice-like grip is cutting off his circulation.

You seem to be getting more confident as you start to take bolder strides on the ice. The death grip you had on your boyfriend's hand loosens as you skate along.

Eventually, he lets go of your hand as you try and skate by yourself. Shoto still hovers just in case you need his help as he tries to get a bit of blood flow back to his fingers.

“I think I got it,” you say happily as you pull off a few laps without stumbling. Shoto skates up to your side and smiles happily now that you are no longer sliding around like a newborn deer.

Snowflake, I have to go to the restroom for a moment,” he says suddenly, looking to you to see if you will be okay on your own.

“Okay, I’ll be here,” you say confidently. With that, he skates off the rink to do his business. You continue to skate around, After a few laps you being to feel a little too bold. You pick up your speed and try to turn quickly only to lose your balance and fall. You land on your padded bottom and let out a quick laugh.

As Shoto comes back he sees you on the ground, he tries to get to you and help you up only to be beaten by some guy. The man stands in front of you.

“Are you hurt cutie?” he says smoothly “that was quite a fall.” he reaches out his hand only to have it batted away by your boyfriend who completely ignores the guy. Upon seeing you’re taken he skates away ready to try and pick up someone else on the rink. You can't help but admire his persistence as he goes away.

“Snowflake, are you hurt?” he asks looking at you with worry. You smile and happily take his hand, even though your gloves you can feel the heat radiating from his right side.

“Only my pride and my butt Sho.” you laugh as you rub your tush soothingly trying to forget the fact that you feel in front of a couple of hundred people.

This causes him to let out a soft laugh as he skates along with you happily swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. In his head, Shoto now understands what people find so appealing about going ice skating with the people they care about.

#shoto torodoki #shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #shoto fluff #mha shoto #bnha fluff #my hero academia #bnha #bnha x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #25 days of fic mas

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

How about a fairytale scenario? A prince/princess/royal is in love with a very uninterested darling who manages to run away and make a deal with a witch who turns them into a monster in an attempt to make their yandere leave them alone? Maybe the cure is true loves kiss but since they don’t love the yandere it never works? Idk I think it’s an interesting concept and it’s been stuck in my head for a while

Ooooh! I like that! Very good idea anon, thanks for sending it in ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

“My Beloved!”

The prince’s voice made you flinch as it shook you from your nap. As good as you could, you heaved your giant head in the opposite direction from the door, pressing your snout to the cold stone wall. Its smell and temperature weren’t pleasant anymore, now that you were... well, whatever creature the witch had turned you into. Your heightened senses didn’t make it easier, now that you could smell every speck of mold and hear the scratching of tiny bug legs skittering through the stones.

The heavy, silver chains all over your body and limbs didn’t help either.

“We found a cure!” he claimed, his voice as sweet as honey, caring and hopeful, and yet so, so revolting since you knew the person behind it better than anyone else. It was easy to fool a kingdom with a sunny smile and encouraging speeches, but the one person he’d never trick again with his rotten personality was you.

Teeth clenched, you tried to ignore him, hoping he might be discouraged by seeing you unresponsive to his words. There had been too many potions, too many plants, he made you digest which were supposed to ‘help’ you, that you’d never want to even open your mouth anymore. You never even asked for his help; you just wanted him to leave you alone! When you hatched the plan of how to escape this fanatic, being recaptured by him and held in the dungeon, far away from anyone except the prince and the magicians he hired to ‘help’ you, wasn’t a part of it. You still blamed yourself that you hesitated to injure him worse than just breaking his arm when he found you. That you hesitated long enough for a bottled potion to hit you, bringing you down into a deep slumber and allowing them to bring you back to your personal hell that was the prince’s castle.

“My Beloved,” he repeated, this time in a tender whisper while he sank next to your disfigured body, a gentle hand coming down onto the fur of your front leg, caressing it comfortingly. “We’ve been wrong so many times...” he lamented, but you could hear the smile on his lips as he continued. “But finally, we know, and it’s no potion nor herb that will turn you back into a human.”

So what is it? you were inclined to ask, though you kept quiet. Just so you’d know what to avoid in the future.

“It’s a true love’s kiss,” he swooned, following it up with a deep sigh of longing. Your stomach churned as you heard his solution to your ‘problem’, but all you could muster was a haughty huff, thinking how you’d never love him. This wouldn’t work, you were already aware.

There was no way you could love the person that tore you from your family for his own amusement. Who humiliated you in front of other nobles so he could have some giggles, and yet, when you decided to run away from his maltreatment, chained you into his private room, sobbing into your lap of how he cannot live without you after keeping you there without food and water for days. What was real and what was fake about him was a thin line to discern, but you had been forced to stay long enough with the prince to not trust even one word of his. He’d try to suck up to you with presents and food, promising the world to you. And then, the moment you said you didn’t like what he did, he’d turn his back on this love he swore to harbor for you, punishing you and threatening to hurt your family too if you’d ever break his heart again.

It was then that you figured out he was lonely, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but be scared of his actions.

“You know there is no one else, no human nor monster, that adores you as much as I do. Thus, I will lift this curse from you, my Dearest! There isn’t anyone else who can do it. Right?”

Hearing his question made you not want to move your head in his direction all the more. But even with one hand, the prince knew where to touch for it to be uncomfortable. That damn spot under your throat made you flinch when you felt his fingertips drag over it, and you raised your head as far as the chain holding you down allowed. Growling at him didn’t concern the prince at all as he scooted closer, his hand falling to the side of your head, his face burying into the soft fur that covered all of your newly-obtained body.

Secretly, you wished that someone would come to save you from all this. Not particularly your new monstrous form, but rather, the prince and his doings. You wanted a real prince in shining armor to come and kiss you, whisk you away on his pretty, white steed. Never to be seen again. That would be your dream. This act and tragedy had been going on too long, and you feared that as it was, it would never end in a happy ending for you.

The prince kissed you between your eyes, observing if anything was happening for a few seconds before his lips proceeded down your snout. After every caress, he stopped, watching if anything changed. As you glanced briefly into his eyes, you saw the frustration grow. It would have been easier if it had worked - you had to admit - for both of you. Because every kiss more he had to watch fail, the more he grew unrestraint, his expression darkening and teeth clenching hard while his hand began to shake from frustration, or perhaps anger already.

“Why is it not working?” he asked as if he expected you to answer him. However, if it wasn’t a growl or whine, your vocal cords didn’t speak the same language anymore. Surely, there would have been a lot you would have told him if you could have opened your mouth and spoken. But this way, and much to your own surprise, he had to figure it out himself.

“Is it because you don’t love me?” he asked, fingers tangling into your fur harshly. “That’s what you said, right? That you don’t love me.”

A short, desperate laugh escaped him as he looked up and stared down at you with wide eyes. “It’s supposed to be a true love’s kiss, don’t you understand? Are you too stupid to even understand that? Do you want to stay like this, looking like a rotten mutt? Do you hate me so much?”

His questions were unanswered, even as he yanked hard at your fur, a stinging pain shooting through your face. “Answer me!” he demanded, screaming it into the void that was the dungeon where no one but you and him resided. “Ha... Hahaha...”

His laugh was muffled by his hand tearing away from you and instead clasping over his face, making him take a deep breath. “That’s okay. You’ll have a lot of time to learn to love me. Or you rot down here, it’s your decision.”

Standing up, the prince left you behind, a pitiful pile of meat and hair, chained to the ground by the most expensive chains he could buy from all the money he possessed. How much did it anger him, you wondered, that even though he had everything, he couldn’t have you?

“Don’t forget.” Glancing over his shoulder, the heavy doors slowly closed behind him. “You can be with me forever, or you can die here alone. No one mourns such a hideous creature when it’s gone. Only I can love you as you are now, but you lack choices. My darling Monster.”

With the prince disappearing together with the light of the torches, you were cast into the darkness reigning in your new home. Alone, pitiful, quiet. Restraint and captured as nothing more than the beast of a kingdom. It was the same darkness that never let you forget who and what you were.

Nothing. You were nothing without the prince who walked in the light while being the darkness himself.

#Prince #yandere prince #yandere!prince #monster #monsters #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW #Anonymous

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thunderheadfred · 3 years

Text

❄️Todoroki HC's🔥

Aged-up pro hero Shouto. NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - -

General

Might as well be tied with Bakugou for the #1 pro hero spot; they seem to pass the crown back and forth every other year. Everyone knows about their intense frenemies uber-rivalry. Well. Everyone but Shouto.

He's asked to speak at a lot of charity events. If he has time to prepare (and hire a speech writer) he is capable of stirring crowds to standing ovations. But if caught unawares... he gets cornered into hilarious on-the-spot interviews. He's been memed. Mercilessly.

He's an OP character, but unfortunately he rolled -500 in fashion sense. Eventually he wises up and hires a stylist. When he finally cuts his hair a slightly different and even more flattering way, it's a national event. People faint in the street.

Does god-awful sleight-of-hand magic tricks when he meets young fans, even though nobody asked him to. The second-hand embarrassment is palpable. But he keeps doing it. God, why does he keep doing it?

Has hovering arm syndrome in every fan photo.

Super into pop music. Not a fan of any particular group or artist, couldn't tell you the name of a single song. But every time he turns up the volume on the radio it's like... really? THIS? Probably pumps that shit through his hero agency to keep up morale. Has no idea what you mean when you tell him his music taste doesn't match his personality.

Similarly, he enjoys brainless romantic comedies and old silent movies. Doesn't laugh at jokes but loses it over physical comedy. Thinks Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd are the funniest people who ever walked the earth.

He's long and limber. Runs practically a hundred miles every day just to "relax." Doesn't even get sweaty doing it. A filthy yoga addict. He'll probably live to be 200 years old.

He can regulate his body temperature for quirk use but in everyday life he's always half a degree outside the Goldilocks zone. It drives him quietly insane; he has an epic love-hate relationship with his thermostat.

Has a therapy animal pet. Doesn't matter if it's a dog or a cat or a bird or an iguana or a teeny tiny rodent. It's the best-behaved animal in the country and speaks more languages than you. It has its own room and an instagram account with millions of followers.

Lives in a traditional Japanese estate that doubles as a national treasure. Probably has government-appointed snipers at the gate, and he's just like, "don't worry about it." You are afraid to touch anything. Fuck, don't even look at anything, just to be safe.

Has an outstanding personal chef who only gets to cook five things unless (thank fuck!!) company comes over. Impossibly picky eater. He rotates between a few "safe" foods and suspiciously side-eyes everything else. If you cook something unfamiliar for him it will be the most awkward meal of your life, because he'd never tell you he doesn't like it. But oh lord, just look at his face.

This clashes directly with his love of traveling. Frequently uses his hero earnings to visit exotic foreign locales over long weekends... but rarely tries the food.

- - -

Dating

A grey-ace demisexual disaster. You could count the number of people he's been attracted to on one hand. He falls madly in love every time and always gets his heart smashed to pieces when his crush can't magically intuit the meaning of his frigid longing glances and generically courteous romantic gestures.

Which is stupid, because he gets propositioned constantly. He can't walk out the door without being flirted with. People keep slipping him their phone numbers and he always directs them to his agency like a moron. It's a good thing he will never understand how attractive he is because that's the only thing keeping him from total world domination.

Conventional attractiveness does not compute. Shouto doesn't have a type, doesn't care that he's an eleven whilst you are merely mortal. He will fall for your personality above all else.

Probably falls head over heels because your schedules overlap in a completely ordinary way and he witnesses you doing something endearing or brave or most likely: utterly mundane.

Pick a favorite, because you're his favorite coworker, or his favorite barista, or his favorite random bystander in line at the grocery store. You made him smile once; then he spent the next three months daydreaming about your future together before you accidentally stomped on his foot, initiating your first real conversation.

He's big on healthy communication. HUGE. He goes to therapy and it shows. Will talk through literally everything to the point of delirium. Sometimes his dedication to resolving every issue right away can get overwhelming; sometimes you just need some frickin time alone. But it pays off, because the two of you have practically never have a "real fight." There's just no way for bad vibes to fester.

STILL, his family wasn't exactly... erm... verbally or emotionally supportive, shall we say. For that reason, he might not give you all the compliments you deserve, because it simply doesn't occur to him to do so. He assumes you know how he feels. If you're self-conscious or insecure in the relationship, it might take him a while to notice. But when he figures it out (or even better, when you tell him directly) he will make it up to you with enthusiasm.

Will take you on lavish dates. Spoils you rotten without actually intending to. He's clueless about money. If you wanted a sugar daddy, you just hit the fucking jackpot. But if the word valet makes you uncomfortable, perhaps suggest some romantic picnics instead. He can still go all out with the food and five-star location without making you see cartoon dollar signs.

Chronic Insomniac. Stays up too late watching YouTube every night. His viewing history is an incomprehensible blur of k-pop music videos, serial killer icebergs, and super girly crafty ASMR channels. When he's watching a video, he is unreachable. Please call back later and try again.

He's disgustingly cute when he sleeps. Doesn't snore, but drools. Sometimes the drool freezes and leaves frost trails on his face in the morning. Still sleeps with the giant stuffed cat pillow that his mother gave him when he was like, zero. He'll inadvertently suffocate you with it, and you will welcome death with open arms because awwwwww!!!!!

The first time he tells you he loves you will be after your traditional Japanese shinto wedding. You won't hear it again until you start a family. Honestly, it's a good thing he doesn't say it often and is always holding you when it happens. It's a knee-buckler.

- - -

Icy-Hot

I don't even need to say it. Shouto is as old-fashioned as they come. You will never open another door or pull out another chair for yourself as long as you live. He will ask before he holds your hand. He will ask before he kisses you. He will stop and check in if you so much as breathe funny during sex.

If you don't orgasm at exactly the same time while staring into one another's eyes, he'll consider himself a failed lover. God forbid you want him to pound you into the futon... cause you are going to have to present that scenario to him in writing first.

Physical intimacy rarely leads to sex. He loves cuddling, craves physical affection. He'll sprawl all over you and turn into goo while you hold him close. He's an amazing, astounding, phenomenally good kisser. And that's... nice and all... but sometimes you have to grab his face and say, "Shouto, I'm horny," before he's like so that's why you're currently dry-humping me?

Even if he isn't technically a virgin the first time (or the millionth time) you sleep together, you won't know the difference. He's a blushing violet. Every. Fucking. Time. This doesn't mean he's a bad lay, oh no. But there's always ten minutes of confused bumbling before he hits his stride and remembers oh yeah, I DO know how to fuck good.

Absolutely silent during sex. Focused. Intense. Sometimes you have to push him a little to make any kind of noise at all, just so you know you're pleasing him (oh don't worry, you are).

His cock is Just Right. Not to big or too small. Perfectly proportioned and symmetrical. Somehow pretty. Like a fucking factory prototype. It truly is not fair.

Gets handsy and restless at night, even if you both have work the next day. Seems to crave sex at three in the morning. You've given him more than one exhausted handjob.

Gets offended if you don't cum. Will go down on you for hours. Of course he uses his quirk to tease you. He doesn't typically use it during actual intercourse, but he's all about foreplay, and he'll use every tool in his arsenal.

His sex drive is completely fucking unpredictable. Sometimes he's all over you, other times he's an icy slab. His line of work leaves him busy and stressed on a near-constant basis, so you can't entirely blame his personality for this one. Just give him some time and help him take care of his basic needs. He'll come back around soon enough.

#todoroki shouto #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #todoroki x y/n #gender neutral reader #todoroki headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #smut #fred writes #bnha #mha

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8

WC: 1533

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: domestic fluff, anxiety, alcohol consumption

🧠

Tuesday afternoon had you and Laszlo working in his office. He sat behind his desk grading quizzes while you worked to transcribe one of his notebooks. Tchaikovsky played quietly over the bluetooth speaker he had on the bookshelf. You had once mentioned that he was your favorite composer, so Laszlo had taken to playing his work frequently during office hours.

Pausing to take a sip of the now-room temperature tea he had brought you, you notice a low humming noise. Turning in the chair you watch your doctor. His eyebrows are scrunched in concentration. He wears the little round reading glasses that make him look old-fashioned and sophisticated. He shakes his head lightly before marking an answer wrong on the paper he holds. But what strikes you most of all, is that he is softly humming along to the music in his deep baritone. He’s actually quite good with his pitch.

“I’ve never heard you sing.”

He looks up at you from over the spectacles. “Pardon?”

“You should sing more often, you have a lovely voice.”

A deep crimson blush spreads on the apples of his cheeks. Laszlo was not one to be embarrassed easily, but sometimes the most inconsequential or mundane things like this would do the trick. He opens his mouth to no doubt give a witty and defensive response when someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” he states. He isn’t expecting anyone, but there is an essay coming soon so it wouldn’t surprise him if a student wants to get ahead on their planning. The heavy mahogany door clicks and swings open.

“Hello Laszlo. I thought it was about time that I made my way to visit you,” says a familiar feminine voice. Standing in the doorway is none other than Dr. Stratton.

Laszlo sat up and removed his glasses as she entered the office. In the busyness of the last few weeks he hadn’t made it a point to seek her out yet. “Dr. Stratton, hello. I must say it has been quite a long time.” He smiles at seeing her, eyes lighting up.

“Oh, Laszlo, there's no need for such formalities. I’m no stranger that you can’t call me by my name.” Karen waves her hand in a dismissive manner. She then turns in your direction with a smile. “And you my dear, I didn’t expect to see you here?”

“Ah, sorry Dr. Stratton, it must have slipped my mind last time - I’m a TA for uh- Dr. Kreizler.” You almost slip up and call him Laszlo, but catch your tongue at the last possible second. It doesn’t shock you that the two doctors know each other. They both worked in the same field and had lived in central Europe in overlapping times. You’re happy to see two people you think highly of reacquainted.

You miss the confused glance that Laszlo sports between yourself and Dr. Stratton. The two of you obviously knew each other, but how? Karen had been in Vienna for years. Why would she know who you were? How small a world was it that his previous romantic partner and current one knew each other? His curiosity gets the better of him. “Forgive me, but are you two acquainted?” he asks.

“Yeah, I had Dr. Stratton my freshman year for intro psych. I told you about it on my first day, don’t you remember?”

“She was a fantastic student, Laszlo. You would have loved having her in one of your classes. She always had such well thought out ideas to contribute.”

He at least has the decency to look sheepish when he admits that it must have slipped his mind. In truth he hadn’t paid you much attention the first day. He made the effort to learn your name and that was the extent to which he cared at the time.

Dr. Stratton pipes up again. “I only have a moment but I wanted to invite you for drinks later this week so we can catch up. I have some new ideas I’d love to share with you.”

“That sounds wonderful. Please let me know when you would like to and I would be delighted.” The prospect excites Laszlo. It really had been so long since he last spoke to Karen.

“Of course, I’ll see you then.” She nods to Laszlo and gives you a grin and a wave as she leaves. The door clicks behind her.

“Oh-hoo you’ve got a date Laz, should I be worried?” you tease.

He gives you a deadpan look before realizing you are joking. He gives a slight frown. “Karen and I are old friends and colleagues, nothing more.” And previous lovers, which he omits.

“Alright, loverboy,” you quip, turning back to the notebook and laptop.

He finds himself discomforted by your joke. Perhaps he should tell you about Karen… Nevertheless, he tramps down the feeling and gets back to work.

“So why was it that Laszlo couldn’t join us tonight? He was not very forthcoming in his message.” John asks as he sets down your drinks. The three of you were sat at a small corner booth at the tavern you frequented on Friday nights. The evening was young; only a few patrons were there playing pool and having a round.

“He’s out with another professor catching up. They haven’t seen each other in years.” You take a large swig of your lager, the hoppy flavor of the brew coating your tongue. “He almost didn’t go but I insisted that I would survive alone with you two,” you chuckle.

John looks at you over his own glass. “And did he say who he’s with?”

“Dr. Stratton from the psych department.”

“Oh. I see.” John shifts his gaze around, his features going awkward at the information. He makes brief eye contact with Sara before darting them away again. Sara purses her lips, her doe eyes giving nothing away. The tense pause stirs something within you.

“What?” John needles at your question, a slight downturn of his lips as if to say he wasn’t sure what you meant. Sara sips her drink and watches the encounter. “What are you not telling me?”

John scratches at his chin. Sara steps in this time. “It’s nothing, John is just up to usual worrisome self,” she tries to dismiss.

Her answer doesn’t satisfy you. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not exactly inclined to believe you.” Facing John, you continue. “You look like you’ve eaten something that tastes horrible, you’re hesitant to look me in the eye, and you rubbed your jaw when I asked. You’re a terrible liar, John,” you accuse. You aren’t upset, but his sudden inability to speak causes anxiety to bubble in your gut.

He huffs. “You’re beginning to sound just like him, you know.” He quirks a brow at you, annoyed. “Laszlo and Karen have a… long history. As friends and colleagues, of course. They were very close for a while,” he tacks on. He wants to be forthcoming with you, but knows it isn’t his place to actually disclose Laszlo’s relationship with her.

“Oh.” you nod. Your anxiety begins to dissipate at the explanation. “I mean I’m not surprised by it, they both lived near each other for a while in Europe. I’m sure they ran in the same academic circles. Frankly, I’m glad he’s getting to catch up with her, he needs more friends than just us,” you laugh at Sara’s ‘cheers to that’ comment. “Anyways, how’s your week been?” you ask to change the subject.

The night comes to an end soon after; the tone shifted after you retired from the conversation about Laszlo’s absence. You caught a cab back to his home. He had given you a spare key in case you wanted to come over at any time, whether to study in peace or to just be there. He wasn't sure when he would get back, but he did ask for you to wait for him.

Getting ready for bed you chance a look at the clock. It was nearing midnight. Laszlo was still out, which was somewhat uncharacteristic of him, but you figure that he’s just got a lot to talk about with Dr. Stratton. You send a text to check in, but get no response.

As you lay in bed you find your thoughts wandering back to the conversation with John and Sara. “A long history; very close for a while…” plays on repeat in your head. You hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now it nags at you like a gnat swirling your head in the summertime. Surely nothing happened between the two? Laszlo would have told you. There’s no doubt he knew she was back, given that she’s in his department at the university. And you trust Dr. Stratton, she’s been a great support system and even a friend to you. If the two had been involved he would have let you know, you conclude. Besides, you and the doctor were happy, so even if they had been a thing at one point it surely wouldn’t matter now.

Right?

By the time you finally fall asleep Laszlo still hasn’t come home.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @thatoneartgalsstuff @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks

#psychopathia sexualis #the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler fanfic #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #scuttle-buttle #daniel bruhl fanfiction

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itsstrange · 3 years

Text

Coffee Run & Green Eyes

Series: Spark Between Us

Relationship: Jensen Ackles x Skyline McNoir (OFC)

A/N: Hey everyone! I know it’s been a long time and I apologize for those waiting for more stories, but if you follow me on IG then you would know that this last week I was struck with a stomach flu which caused me to not have enough energy for various things. Luckily, I’ve recovered and feel much better. I also want to apologize to those who have requested me some stories, don’t worry I have Not forgotten about you! Just been dealing with some things!

But!! To not keep you guys in the dark I decided to post a Series I wrote for Ao3 on here, just to give y’all something to read meanwhile I work on some other works for y’all!! Hope y’all enjoy it!

Another thing, we have hit 105 followers y’all!!!! Thank you so much for all the love y’all continue in giving me!! I appreciate it so much!! 🥲💚

✨{Credits to owner for the gif}✨

Summary: Skyline McNoir tags along with a few friends who are attending a convention of some show she’s never watched. Little did she know, she would fall head over heels for the lead actor.

Word Count: 2.4 K

Warnings: Will contain Fluff, public sex, alcohol consumption, public fingering, just pure NSFW for all you Jensen fans out there 😊

————

ENJOY!!

————

The blasting chorus of Follow Me Now by Jason Gleed, wakes Skyline up. Her Hazel eyes glare straight ahead at the coconut cream wall for a few seconds before bringing the cover above her head, trying to muffled the music. Which didn’t help. At all. Then to make the morning less fun, her bed begins to shake violently by her best friend who’s jumping up down awhile singing at the top of her lungs. Skyline groans into the covers and tries to bury herself deeper into the warmth, but before she can even hide, the covers are being shoved off her form. A shiver runs throughout her body from the coldness in the room.

“C’mon Sky! Today’s the day!” Erin yells as she hovers above,

Skyline groans once again, eyes closed shut when it’s far too bright in the room “Five more minutes,”

“No come on,” Erin says, slightly pushing Sky’s body with her foot, “Tiffany and Laila are already downstairs grabbing breakfast,”

Still not moving, Erin shoves her body once again with her foot, when that didn’t do the trick an evil smirk spreads on her face. Grabbing an unused pillow, she raises it above her head before roughly slamming it against Sky’s head, causing her to jerk upright. With sleep still in her eyes, Sky is only able to squint at her best friend.

“Erin! What the fu-,” Her words were cut off when a large pillow smacks her in the face,

Erin chuckles at her, ignoring the death stare as she hops off her bed, “Chop chop.. we got a busy day today!”

With a roll of her eyes and a loud groan, Sky rolls off the comforter and towards the bathroom. After taking care of her regular morning routines, she hops in the shower. Erin’s music still blasted through the speakers, as Sky took a quick shower and she honestly hoped none of their neighbors complained about their disturbance, she knew she would have if she was trying to get a few more hours of shut eye.

That’s all she ever really wanted at the moment, sleep. After months of studying, exams, piles upon piles of work, and busting all nighters she was finally in winter break. The feeling of being able to come home for the holidays and spending those days with her family sounded amazing and relaxing. However, after the second day of being home, she gets a call from Erin. Mentioning something about having another extra ticket for a convention to meet the cast of some show she’s never watched. She kindly declined the offer, wanting to spend her days off with her family sounded like a much better idea than meeting unknown actors. However, Sky often forgets Erin is not the type to take no for an answer and demanded her to hand the phone over to her mother.

Thinking her mother would defend her and find a way to convince Erin to try and find someone else to take to the convention, Sky hands the phone over to her mother. You can only imagine who won that argument.

Once out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her body, Sky heads out the bathroom and towards her duffel bag. In the winter season of Austin, Texas, she decides on a plain long sleeve, black jeans, grey hoodie, black boots on her feet with a leather jacket on top. Once her hair is made and adds a couple splashes of makeup on her face, she grabs her phone and book from the small counter as she follows Erin out the room. After a few minutes later, they finally arrive in the breakfast buffet where Tiffany and Laila are already stuffing themselves with waffles and eggs. With a yawn, Sky makes her way over to the buffet with Erin right behind her. Once they both get their plates and sit down on the table, they dig in before getting on with their day.

****

8:45 am

“Oh my god!! I just hugged Speight!!” The sound of Laila coming around the corner interrupts Sky from her book,

The sight of Laila bouncing up and down on her feet with a wide grin makes a small chuckle escape from Skyline. As her friends beamed over this Speight guy, Sky returns her focus down on her book. Not really paying much attention at their excitement, but still having a smile on her lips as she reads the next chapter in her book. Even if she’s not having the same excitement as her friends, she is still having fun with them. Being around them in general for whatever reason always brightens her day. No matter how rough of a day she’s seems to be having, her girls always know just how to distract her and make her have fun.

“Ohh it’s almost time for Osric’s panel,” Tiffany says while looking down at her phone,

No longer able to focus on her book, Sky marks her spot before getting up from the floor.

“You guys go in, I’ve got auto’s for Kim at nine,”

It’s barely nine in the morning? Jesus. Sky thinks to herself, the day has felt extremely long she could have sworn it was already noon.

“Okay, let’s go Sky,” Laila motions her head to the side for her to follow,

“If you guys want me to continue tagging along, I’m gonna need an espresso,” Sky states, feeling yet another yawn creeping up her throat,

Her friends chuckle at her but agreed with her idea. They wouldn’t want her dragging her feet all over the convention, besides, coffee did sound like a great idea. Once writing down their preferred drinks in her notes, Sky leaves through the doors, down the steps and towards a coffee shop not too far away. It was only a couple blocks away, she should make it back in no time. Hugging her jacket closer to her body when the wind picks up, Sky quickens her movements to avoid its freezing weather but careful to not slip on the wet pavement. The last thing she needs is to fall flat on her ass, better yet get a concussion or go back home with a broken wrist.

Boy would her mom faint if she saw her daughter in a cast. Will most likely give her a lecture on why it’s important not to be on the phone during the most worst seasons. ‘If you weren’t on the phone this wouldn’t have happened Skyline’. Yep. She can definitely hear her ranting.

After a few blocks in the harsh winds, Skyline is finally reaching the small little coffee joint. Just as she reaches for the handle of the door, another, large, hand reaches at the same time. Thick fingers slightly touching her own, making her pull back with an apology.

“No it’s fine go ahead,” A deep voice says beside her, letting a shiver run down her body,

Most likely from the weather, what else would it be?

She looks up at the man. Dark beard, shades on his face, black hat on his head, with a black T-Shirt underneath a checkered navy flannel and black Levi’s jacket. Even under the dark shades she can tell he was good looking, handsome in fact.

“No you can go ahead,” Sky smiles at the man, stepping aside for him to enter,

He only shakes his head, gripping the door handle as he opens it for her, “Please I insist, my mom would throw a fit if she finds out I didn’t show my manners,”

Sky chuckles at him, “Well we wouldn’t want that now,”

The man chuckles back, smile forming on his lips. Man did that smile just make her stomach flip.

“No, we really wouldn’t,” Chuckling once more at him she accepts the offer with a thanks before entering the coffee shop,

As she walks inside, the change of temperature immediately hits her cold cheeks. Almost as if a heating furnace was suddenly shoved in her face, but she wasn’t complaining, the warmth was needed. Walking further into the coffee shop, she takes a glance over her shoulder to see if the man was behind her, but only lets a smile appear when she catches the moment of him allowing an elderly couple enter before him.

That’s sweet. She thinks to herself as she walks up to the counter. Once her drinks have been ordered and paid, she heads over to a small empty table near the window. Sitting on the chair she pulls out her book and continues where she left off as she waits for her drinks. A few minutes had passed and Sky was too engrossed in her book to notice her name being called out by the barista. Eventually though, she comes back to reality when someone places her drink in front her. Looking up from her book she meets eyes with bright emerald orbs, and noticing those breathtaking eyes belong to the same man from the door.

“I’m guessing your Skyline?,” The way her name rolls off his deep voice sends a shiver down her spine,

Definitely can’t be the air this time, absolutely not.

Eyeing the cup of coffee in front of her, she lifts a eyebrow at the man, teasing him. Even if she sees her name written on the side of the cup.

“And what makes you think that?” The way his lips slightly lift causes something to flip in her stomach,

Again.

“Well.. seeing how there’s hardly folks in here,” He looks around the shop for a few seconds before landing his eyes on hers again, “and you being the only one sitting down without a coffee.. I took a guess,”

Sky hums with a smile as she takes the cup, “Nice deduction,”

He shrugs a shoulder with a smile, “This seat taken?”

Sky shakes her head as she takes careful sips from her drink. With a small smile the man pulls out the chair with his other free hand, seeing how he has a cup of his own in one hand.

“I’m Ross by the way,” The man extends a hand once seated,

With a smile Sky accepts his hand, feeling it warm and rough as it wraps around her own.

“Nice to meet you,” Still smiling she pulls away from his firm hand,

“You around from here or just passing through?” He asks, taking careful sips from his cup,

Sky softly smiles at him as she wraps her hands around her coffee, trying to warm up her fingers.

“Born and raised,” He raises a brow at the small fact,

“No kidding?”

She nods, “Yeah but I’m just home for the holidays,”

He hums with a nod, “In the army or something?”

Sky couldn’t help the chuckle that escapes from her, definitely noticing how the corner of the mans lips slightly lift as well.

“More like college. My last year,”

“Really? What’re you studying?” He asks, taking another sip, never letting his eyes drift from her Hazel ones,

But does notice how they dart down towards his mouth before quickly looking back up to his eyes. A small smirk hides behind the cup, but doesn’t hide it when he pulls it away from his face.

“Biology,” He hums once again with a sincere smile, making her stomach flip,

It was such an odd feeling, especially when it was coming directly from a man she hardly knows. But for some reason, it felt right. Their conversations switched from topic to topic, never faltering. It just felt right, as if they were long time friends catching up with each other instead of two strangers who just met. Eventually, their conversation was cut short with the barista calling out her name once again with the rest of her drinks.

Getting up from her seat she walks over to the counter where her drinks waited. As she grabbed a cup holder and begins placing her drinks in each space, Ross, settles next to her. Getting a whiff of his cologne. Leaning on the counter he had both his and her coffee in either hand, which he hands over with a smile once all coffees were safely secured in place.

“I should get going,” She smiles up at his green orbs, and only then noticing how freckles are splashed on his face,

This man was literally dashing, no doubt about it.

“Yeah same here,” He says looking down at his watch, “Need a ride?”

She shakes her head with a smile, “I’m good thanks,”

“You sure? Heard it might rain,” He continues to lean on the counter as she places her coffee in an empty slot of the holder,

“I’m sure, it’s just a few blocks from here,”

“Well it can rain from those few blocks,” He argues as he gives her a smile, not wanting to end their little moment,

Neither did she, but she had friends waiting and the moment she tells them the reason why she took a little longer than expected, they wouldn’t leave her alone until she gives them the whole shebang.

She lets a small chuckle escape her lips as she picks up the coffees, “I’ll make a run for it,”

He softly chuckles at her comment, green eyes staring straight into her Hazel orbs that have slightly turned grey from her sweater. Definitely finding her and her eyes fascinating and beautiful.

“It was nice meeting you Ross,” She smiles at him as she walks away,

He smiles as he watches her, sending her a wave goodbye when she looks over her shoulder before walking out the door. Watching her leave didn’t feel like a loss, it felt the complete opposite actually. Why? Well for starters, he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he saw her considering she had the all too familiar Creation Entertainment wristband on her left hand. Also, he had her book inside his jacket, another reason on why he would see her again.

Both to retrieve her book and to have a reason to see her again. Don’t get him wrong, he was actually going to give it to her before she left, but the thought of holding it and having a reason to see her again sounded like great idea. He wanted to see her again, wanted to have a conversation longer than 10 minutes and just wanted to get to know her. She was different, in a good way, absolutely in a good way. The way she seemed to not know him or maybe she did but simply did not care made him feel relaxed, made him feel somewhat normal and he would give anything to feel that way again.

Even if it meant “stealing” her book to have an excuse to see her again.

PART 2

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-Hope y’all enjoyed this first part of the series!! Stay tuned for random updates for ‘Spark Between Us’ I won’t give an announcement on when I’ll update it so keep your eyes peeled on it!!

-Turn on Post Notifications!! 🔔 For more!!

————

#jensen Ackles #jensen ackles x ofc #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles imagine #Jensen Ackles smut #smut #Spark Between Us Series #supernatural imagine #supernatural #supernatural smut #dean winchester #Dean Winchester x reader #the boys #the boys tv #the boys imagine #Soldier Boy

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circus4apsycho8 · 3 years

Note

Hi, I'm not sure if I should add TW, but just in case.

TW:vent. I've been feeling really bad lately, idk why, there's not even a reason, but during like five days the only thing I have eaten are some cookies and milk, I barely get out of bed and I've slept for a day in a row. *End of the tw*

Maybe can I request some comfort for that? Like a oneshot or some headcanons with Sans. I understand if you don't feel comfortable writing it, so, If that is the case, free to just ignore this <3

Of course *hug* I’ve been kinda going through a similar situation myself so I can kind of relate. Just know things will improve soon <3 I hope this helps a bit!

Pairing: Sans x Reader

Warnings: Depression, cussing

You’re awake again.

You wish you weren’t - the thought of being able to just fall asleep on command is enticing. It would make things so much easier, if you could just wake up on command. Much to your dismay, though, that’s not how life works.

A sigh escapes you as the sunlight creeps through your curtains. You don’t know what time it is, or what day it is for that matter. You had grown too focused on your own despair to realize just how distant you had become to others. How long had it been since you talked to someone? Where did you even put your phone at? You don’t remember. The weeks have been dragging by in such a haze that you were gradually shutting more and more people out of your life.

How long have you been sleeping?

Despite being mildly curious about the answer, you make no move to figure it out. It doesn’t matter now – after all, you’ll slip into a haze and forget about it entirely. Again.

And so, you curl back up in your trusty blanket, gradually slipping back into the comforting embrace of sleep.

…

Someone’s calling your name.

You groan as you open your eyes, immediately becoming aware of a hand on your cheek. You look up to see Sans sitting on the edge of your bed, his phalanges gently rubbing your skin as he gazes down at you softly.

“Sans?” you mutter. “What are you doing here?”

“no one’s heard from you in a while,” he notes, voice calm as he studies you. “we were getting worried.”

“Oh...” you trail off, averting your gaze as guilt starts eating away at you. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know where my phone is.”

Sans doesn’t say anything as he continues rubbing your cheek. “you aren’t taking care of yourself.”

You sigh, frowning. “Yeah, I am-”

“no you aren’t,” he replies, tone firm. “look. i recognize this behavior because i went through it during, well...you know. and i know how miserable it is so i'm not just gonna sit here and let you sleep your life away. come on.”

“Sans, no, I’m really okay-”

“when was your last full, no bullshit meal?” he presses. You remain silent, not remembering. “that’s what i thought. c'mon, sweetie. sit up. i'm taking you out for lunch.”

You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment before nodding and swiping the covers off of your figure. You sit up.

“there’s the first step,” he notes, voice soft as he takes your hands in his. “now, stand up for me?”

You obey, knees a bit wobbly, but you manage.

“good. now, let me get you a bath running,” he says, leading you to your bathroom. You watch in silence as he plugs the drain before turning on the water.

“hop in. i'm going to go grab some stuff while you bathe. and as a warning, the water is going to be a little cold, but trust me when i say that it’ll help you feel better.”

“Okay,” you reply, watching as he closes the door. You strip and test the temperature of the water. He was right – it is cold. You decide to suck it up since you ghosted everyone for however long. You put your foot in, then your other one, and finally, you’re able to sit down completely.

Goosebumps cover your body as you notice that bubbles are forming in the bath. Ooh, fun. You begin washing yourself, realizing just how long it’s been since you’ve taken the time to care for yourself like this.

A few minutes after you’re finished washing, you hear a knock coming from the door. You sink below the bubbles so that only your head is visible.

Sans enters, equipped with a towel and a fresh set of clothes for you.

“all clean?” he questions.

“Yep,” you reply.

“all right. i'll drop these off so you can dry off and get dressed.”

With that, he exits once more, prompting you to stand and rinse off before unplugging the drain and watching as the water level lowers. Once you’re rinsed off, you step out of the tub as you grab the towel. A smile crosses your face as you realize Sans must have put in the dryer for you so that it’d be warm.

Once you’re dry, you throw on the clothes Sans had chosen for you. It’s a comfy outfit that leaves you feeling refreshed as you ball up your old clothes and step out of the bathroom. You toss your dirty clothes where they belong before going downstairs to see Sans waiting for you.

“Thank you for warming up my towel,” you say. “That was really nice of you.”

“no problem. ‘s a trick i stole from tori, heh. works like a charm.”

You nod. “I appreciate it.”

“like i said, ‘s no problem. now, let’s head to grillby’s.”

“Are we teleporting?” you ask as you follow him out of the door.

“no, we’re gonna walk so that way you can get some fresh air and a nice change of scenery.”

“Sounds good.”

With that, the two of you get started on your walk to Grillby’s. You feel alert and refreshed for the first time in a long while, and it’s a nice change. A small smile worms its way onto your lips as you close your eyes, thinking about how much you had missed the feeling of the breeze tousling your hair. Wow. It really has been a while since you’ve come outside.

“how you doing?”

“Better,” you say simply, not opening your eyes.

“’m glad,” he replies. “i remember when i was stuck in the underground during the reset phase, i stopped going outside because i didn’t think there was any point. but i was so grateful when i did, because it reminded me about appreciating the good in life.”

You nod, opening your eyes slowly. “Yeah. I never really noticed...”

“stuff like that gets overlooked when you start feeling down,” he notes. “that’s why you need to take good care of yourself. c'mon, let’s go grab something to eat.”

“I didn’t even realize how hungry I am,” you note as Sans pulls you inside.

"it's ok. just eat a good meal, on my tab," he says with a wink.

You smile, once again grateful for his company as the two of you eat one of the most memorable lunches you've ever had.

#undertale #undertale x reader #sans x reader #hurt/comfort #reader insert

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delimeful · 3 years

Text

(dont) take this the wrong way (5)

warnings: injury, blood mentions, past psychological&emotional&physical abuse, ptsd, sickness

Virgil woke up, which was only unsurprising for the few moments it took him to 1. realize that his head was pounding and 2. remember the two very large reasons why.

His eyes flew open, and he found himself half-submerged in a shallow pool of cool water, surrounded by flat ledges of dry rock. The sound of ocean waves lapping against the cliffside echoed around the cavern, which was dimly lit by overhead cracks in the ceiling.

In one of these beams of paltry light, Logan was slumped over on his side, glasses askew. Virgil’s relief at seeing him was instantly overshadowed by terror at what could have happened to the human after Virgil had gone and gotten his skull knocked against rock.

His headache worsened, and he lifted a hand to press against the sore spot, pausing when he found more of those stiff bandage strips wrapped around his head.

The soft sloshing of water seemed to be enough to startle Logan into wakefulness, and the human brightened slightly at the sight of him. “Virgil. It’s good to see you awake. Are you feeling any pain or nausea?”

“What happened?” Virgil replied in lieu of the real answer, which was ��everything hurts’. “Where are we, I thought we were dead for sure—!”

“Take a few deep breaths,” Logan advised, shuffling closer to the pool and offering a hand. Virgil took it gratefully. “We’re not currently in any danger. I believe we’re at the home of the seal-hybrid mer, if—“

“We’re what?!” Virgil’s voice dropped to a horrified double pitch, his grip on Logan’s hand instantly turning crushing.

“Ow,” Logan said in a pointed monotone. Virgil eased up before his claws could turn the human’s palm into bloody ribbons. “Let me finish, please. I’ve managed to work out a rudimentary method of communication, and as far as I know, we’re not currently at risk.”

“From the giant mer-eating monsters that literally kidnapped us, you mean?”

“Yes, that was the potential risk I was referring to.” Logan pulled Virgil further upright, reaching out with his free hand. “More importantly, you’ve been out for some time. Will you allow me to take a look at your injury?”

Virgil shuffled a little closer, allowing the hand to make contact with him. He had traversed currents of all temperatures, but in chilled still waters like this, Logan’s warmth was more than welcome. “I dunno how that’s more important than our inevitable, rapidly-approaching deaths, but sure, fine. Knock yourself out.”

“I will not? You are already dealing with a likely concussion, I see no reason to double that number.” Logan squinted at him like he was concerned that the head wound had taken a worse toll than he’d thought.

“No, it’s-- it’s just an expression. Don’t actually pass out, or I’ll freak out.”

“Ah,” Logan acknowledged, his hand twitching like he wanted to grab something before returning to carefully peeling the bandages away. “My apologies. Colloquialisms are not my strong suit.”

Virgil blinked back at him, because five syllable words were a little much even when he wasn’t concussed. “No worries?”

Logan continued to gently probe the back of his head. A sharp pang made him jerk away with a muted hiss, his vision blurring with pain as the sharp motion only agitated all his other cuts. He waved off Logan’s apology before it was fully formed. “S’fine. What’s the damage?”

“The bleeding has stopped, which is a good sign. It’s swelled significantly, but the cool water is hopefully helping reduce that as well. The best course of action now is for you to rest and recover in a dark, quiet place, ideally for at least two full days.”

“Yeah, but that’s not happening unless we get away first,” Virgil shot back, irritably twitching his fins down as Logan rewrapped the injury. The human let out a slow breath.

“Virgil. I believe the situation isn’t as dire as you think.” He settled back on his heels, back stiff as he spoke. “Our captors have shown no signs of aggression or hunger, even with the significant bleeding from your head wound. It’s possible--”

“It’s not possible!” Virgil cut him off, scowling fiercely. “That doesn’t mean anything. They’re playing some kind of sick game the way they always do, and if you let them trick you, you’re going to lose!”

Logan looked back at him inquisitively, still not getting it. “What evidence are you basing this off of? I was under the impression that you’ve spent only marginally more time in their company than me. Have they attempted to trick you in the past?”

“Yes, no, I mean--,” Virgil groaned, pulling at his bangs. “They don’t have to say it. That’s just how giants like them operate. We’re smaller, they can do what they want to us, we don’t get a say in it. You escape or you die.”

“Yet, we’ve been in their admittedly less-than-ideal care for over 24 hours, and they haven’t hurt us or made any indications they intend to hurt us.” Logan gestured expansively, his hand a bit wobbly. “That’s a rather long time to pretend, and for what purpose? If it was what they desired, we have been easy targets for a meal from the moment they relocated us.”

A rather long time to pretend. Virgil swallowed down a hysterical laugh, feeling dizzy. If a day of false niceties was all it took to buy his trust, he’d have never gotten away from his first encounter with a giant mer. “You’re— you’re human. You don’t know anything about this.”

Logan frowned. “I may be human, but that does not make me an idiot. Even with a language barrier, body language and expression are invaluable tools for communication, and I’ve been doing very little but observe them while you were unconscious. Virgil, if you just tried talking to them—“

“No!” he snapped, curling in even as his fins flared wide and threatening. He wouldn’t do this again, wouldn’t be subjected to the world’s most torturous game of catch and release, wouldn’t be lured back into too-tight hands by false promises and meaningless apologies. He couldn’t do that again.

Measured, rhythmic tapping on the back of his hand slowly brought him back to the present, cool air and Logan’s steady voice by his side. His throat was closed-up-too-tight, his gills too far out of the water to switch lungs— but the rhythm was counted out over and over, breathe in, hold, and out.

“There you go,” Logan said as Virgil took in another long, shuddering drag of air. “Well done.”

The air smelled like iron. He realized that somewhere in the past few minutes, he’d dug his claws into the soft sides of the human’s hand, drawing blood. He pulled away as though he’d been burned.

Logan didn’t even twitch, still searching his gaze intently. “Are you with me?”

Virgil nodded stiffly. “Yeah, I— fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I didn’t realize— but I should have.” A deep, resolved breath. “It’s okay. I’ll find you a way out that doesn’t involve interacting with them.” Logan’s gaze went distant and hazy with thought, and Virgil hesitantly drew closer, pulling a bandage free to wrap around his bleeding hand.

… He was really warm. Clammy, too, and he’d been sitting in a cold, wet cave for hours, hadn’t he? Had been completely drenched for even longer.

“You’re sick,” Virgil said, and Logan took a moment too long to refocus on him. How had it taken him so long to notice? “That’s why you need me to talk to them. You need to get home.”

“My illness is no more severe than your injuries,” he deflected, adjusting his glasses clumsily. “Right now, the priority is getting you away from triggering circumstances. If my suspicions are correct, I will be fine regardless.”

Right. His suspicions, based on his willingness to trust his own abductors. He’d trusted Virgil, too, back in those tunnels. He’d known that he might be abandoned and he’d freed Virgil anyways, taken his hand anyways. Gotten hurt for his trouble.

He’d get hurt worse if Virgil left him here.

“... Yeah,” Virgil said, tucking the edge of the bandage in carefully. “But you should sleep for now. We both should. You said they haven’t done anything yet, right?”

“Yes, but…,” Logan’s brow was furrowed slightly, as though he knew something was off, but wasn’t quite sure what. “I mean, you do need rest. If… If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Virgil replied, curling against the edge of the pool and pillowing his head on his arms to hide their shaking. “Get some sleep, Specs.”

—

It was early morning when Patton woke to the splash of something small dropping into the water from his air room.

The room wasn’t overly large, being designed only for occasional use when he needed some extra oxygen in his system. It was also quite a few caves up above his sleeping den, but with two delicate little guests staying over, his senses were on high alert. He disentangled from Roman, who had been clinging to him for extra warmth, waking the shark mer in the process.

“Mwha’huh?” he asked groggily, and Patton chuckled at the way one side of his hair had been pressed into a tangled bundle.

“I think they may be awake!” he reported quietly, and Roman perked right up. They had originally hovered in the room over the two of them, only leaving after the human-- busy tending to the tiny mer’s wounds-- had gotten too fed up and used charades to shoo them away, leaving them with nothing to do but sit around and think about how badly they’d messed up. As such, they were both more than eager to start fixing things.

Upon popping up into the air room, however, they found only the human, lying completely still apart from the slow rise and fall of his chest. Deep in sleep, with an empty pool at his side.

Roman and Patton exchanged a panicked look, and ducked back underwater to search through his home and see where, exactly, the injured mer had gone.

It didn’t take long to spot him. The mer had practically every fin and frill puffed out, even the ones that were still injured. The threat display as eye-catching as they got.

He was hovering in the opening of a vent crevice, one that helped circulate seawater through the caves. It was small enough that if he vanished through it, they wouldn’t be able to stop him or see where he was headed. He knew it, too, staring them down with sharp defiance rather than absolute terror.

“Don’t move,” he said, as though they hadn’t both frozen at the sight of him. “I’m going to-- to make a deal with you.”

“A deal?” Roman asked, and received a sharp, wild-eyed glare for his troubles.

“Yeah, a deal. The other one is sick,” a slight jerk of the head toward the air room, “so he won’t last long here. Probably already too far gone to even play a single game.”

Patton was torn between concern (the human was sick?) and confusion. Game?

“But I’m fine. I’ve had much worse than this.” The mer drifted back slightly, closer to the crevice. “If I leave now, you’ll never find me, and then Lo-- the human will die, and you won’t have anything to play with.”

A creeping sense of dread overcame Patton. He still didn’t know what was going on, but it was sounding more and more like something was seriously wrong here.

“So, a deal. You take the human back to where you found him, and I’ll stay-- I’ll stay here,” his voice cracked painfully, but he ignored it, staring at them with a desperate sort of intensity. “With you. I won’t try to get away or anything. I-- I swear.”

“Get away?” Roman asked, his voice going high with the same sort of horror that currently swamping Patton. The mer ducked back at the sound, gaze flitting between them, some of that terror returning.

“I will! I’ll leave, if you-- you can either have one or none, that’s the deal, I’m not kidding. I’m not!” His fins flared wider, blood beginning to leak from some of them. “He’s human anyways, he can barely even swim, you don’t want him--”

“Kiddo,” Patton cut in urgently, raising his hands peacefully and trying not to wince when the mer flinched, “if he’s sick, of course we’ll take him back to where he can get help. No deals necessary, okay?”

The little guy didn’t look reassured at all. “I want to watch. I have to see you put him back, where other humans will find him, or else the deal’s off.”

He didn't believe them. Patton exchanged a helpless look with Roman, who finally nodded.

“Of course,” the shark mer said, “You are more than welcome to accompany us back to the mainland where Patton found him, provided that you’re not exacerbating your injuries.”

The mer hissed at him, a tiny, reedy sound. “And whose fault is that?”

“Irresponsible human fishing vessels?” Roman tried, and then wilted under both Patton and the mer’s looks when the joke fell flat. He cleared his throat. “It is, of course, mine. I wanted to apologize for the way I manhandled you before. Regardless of my intentions, it was unbefitting behavior, and it hurt you. I am truly sorry.”

He bowed with a little flourish, moving slower than normal. The mer stared at his bowed head apprehensively, and then covered the look up with a distrustful scowl.

“If you’re sorry, get Logan out of this place before he gets any worse,” he finally replied, and Patton nodded and went to retrieve the human-- Logan, presumably.

Glancing over his shoulder as he left, he could see the way the tiny mer’s fins had settled just slightly, not quite as frantically overextended as before.

It was a start.

#sanders sides #ts virgil #ts logan #ts patton #ts roman #mermaid au #my writing #dont take this the wrong way #dtttww #writing #g/t #virgil sweetie what the fuck #- logan next chapter

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