#I have awoken from my grave lmao

[luvyurself]

sick and tired

my close call with bronchitis yesterday inspired me to write this LMAO

c/w: she/her pronouns, brief mention of getting eaten, sick fic, we’re thugging it out tho, dogday cuddling us AUGHHHH, pure fluff, he wants us to be healthy :D

(I mentioned Bobby bearhug in here because she’s a cutie pootie 🫶🏼)



_______

from the time she had spent in this god forsaken factory, she’s endured scrapes, cuts, bruises, bloody noses, and possibly a broken rib or two.

she’d been grateful for the saving graces of the abandoned first aid stations, thankful that some of them still had bandages and disinfected to make sure she didn’t get an infection in any open wound areas.

but, unfortunately, she would forget about the immune system infections that were easy to catch in an abandoned facility such as this.

it started with a sneeze after she awoken from the few twenty minute naps she awarded herself with, which escalated into multiple sneezes throughout her journey.

she docked it to just allergies, this place was infested with dust over the years, it wasn’t that much to worry about.

the gas mask she found to protect herself from the red smoke catnap had made did little to stop her from sneezing. even with the amount of times she dusted it off.

when she decided to save the last remaining smiling critter from his ultimate death from getting eaten from the inside, she was basically running on the little breath she had and adrenaline.

her chest tightened with pain at every breath she took, consisted sneezing turned into dry coughing as she practically stumbled with every step.

after making it out of the elevator escaping the flesh eating toys, she began to walk off the elevator, clammy hands gripping the grabpack as she mumbled to herself about which direction the first aid was.

“angel?” she hummed and turned to the voice, headache starting to form as she shut her eyes to try and soothe it.

dogday wasn’t unaware in the signs of a rising sickness in humans, he would see them all the time when the kids in the playcare acted like nothing was wrong when they were obviously close to collapsing.

and she was no different. he could see her chest quickly rising and falling as she tried to collect her breath, how her legs and hands shook and how chapped her lips were.

she let out a gravely cough, body shaking as she groggily pushed out, “first aids somewhere here…..gotta get you fixed up.” she mumbled, pushing through as she grudgingly walked forward.

he stared at her for a moment, the permanent happy expression on his face seemed to change to a worry smile.

when she first grabbed him off the restraints that held him, he saw that tired and determined look in her eyes that made the empty feeling in his chest spark with something he had not felt for a long time.

the first stumble and second stumble she made almost wanted the dog to just release his grip and let the animals take him to eat, but the dry cough that escaped her lips made his grip tighten around her waist.

even though he thinks he wasted her precious time to save him, he was going to make sure she was going to be make it through this hellhole.

he wasn’t going to lose the person who made him have hope to see another day.

a moment of silence past by before the dirty orange dog let out a dry laugh, “well, angel, if you want to go to the first aid station,” he used his big hand to point to the opposite direction, “then you might want to go that way.”

she blinks owlishly, slowly looking where his hand was pointing and letting it process in her mind.

“…..ohhhh.”

_____________

she slowly placed dogday on the first aid bed, breathing a sigh of relief and nearly collapsed too before she straightened herself up.

“okay….okay….” she swallowed thickly, running a shaky hand through her hair. “there should be a stitching kit here somewhere-“ she coughs in her arm, turning around to rummage through the cabinets hastily.

the orange dog looked down at his lower half, opening to the inside of his body was always something that scared him.

he was grateful she was planning to stitch him up, but with the way she could barely could walk made him worry about hurt herself.

looking back at her, dogday cleared his throat before calling out, “forgive me for staring, angel, but you look a little under the weather.” he spoke with concern lacing his voice.

she let out a ‘huh?’ while she rummages through the dusty cabinets, before sniffling and taking a short breath, “ah it’s probably just-“ she stopped to sneeze, muffling it in her arm.

“just-“ she sniffles, shortly laughing, “a day cold.” she celebrates internally when she saw the sewing kit, turning around to face the giant dog on the bed.

she grabbed a chair and sat down next to the bed, letting out a satisfied sigh as her legs finally rested and began opening up the kit.

she rummaged through the box, “now I don’t call myself a professional stitcher-“ a cough “-I assume it’s going to be easier then stitching up skin, but just let me know if it starts to hurt.”

dogday stares as she fumbles with the needle and thread, whispering a few curses as her fingers seemed to miss the needles hole.

he watches as she paused for a moment, closing her eyes as her breath became shaky and sharp, one of her hands going to her chest to press against it.

her sickness was getting worse, and she seemed to be getting stressed. so he decided to do what the old dogday would had done.

give someone a smile.

it takes a moment for her to compose herself, before clearing her throat and opening her eyes, “okay, okay, I’m alright, I’m going-“ she felt a large hand on her forehead, gently pressing it and a deep hum rumbling out.

she didn’t notice him moving to rest on his side, his face a few inches from hers. she couldn’t tell if it was the embarrassment or the sudden change of body temperature making her face heat up.

a few seconds of analyzing her, before he mumbled something to himself and nodding. he pulled his large hand away from her.

he stared at her when he spoke, “I can’t feel your body temperature, fur making it hard to tell.” he rose both of his hands up wiggling his fingers.

she squints her eyes in confusion, tilting her head as he taps the side of his head, “however, my sharp instincts tell me, and they are never wrong,“ he raises a finger and taps her nose gently, “that you have caught a small bug, angel.” his voice held a calm tone mixed with playfulness.

her nose twitches when he tapped it, making a small shaky smile form on her lips. it didn’t matter how small it was, he took that as a victory in his book. she sighs softly, tapping his hand that rests closed to her on the bed.

“okay, maybe I caught a bug,” she cleared her throat, running a hand through her hair. “but I can’t really afford being sick right now, I’m literally-“ she coughs, giving a short ‘excuse me’ before starting again, “being chased down every corner I turn.”

dogday rests his head on his hand, “you’re more at risk of getting caught now that your sick, you need rest,” he studied her body language carefully, watching as she shook her head.

“no, I need to patch you up,” she holds her chest as she coughs in her arm. “I can stitch up your top half so it won’t be expose, maybe we can find your leg’s somewhere around here.”

he watches as she talks to herself, picking at her lips. he sighs softly, raising to place a hand on her shoulder and seeing her flinch at the touch.

“angel, please, I can wait to be stitched up,” he spoke softly, rubbing her shoulder tentatively. he didn’t want to see her push through her sickness just to fix him up.

“what I don’t want is to see you collapse and hurt yourself,” he pointed at her body language, how her body was basically shaking like a leaf.

his ears twitch as he heard the deep intake of her breathing, before she released it in a soft exhale. she places the stitching kit on the floor, placing her hands on her lap.

“okay, you win.” she could practically see his imaginary tail wagging in satisfaction, making her smile. “I’ll go and lay down-“

she felt two hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her into the surprisingly soft embrace of the mascots chest. she breathed through her nose, and softly sighed at the faint smell of vanilla.

he never lost that scent.

dogday hummed a random song, gently rubbing her tense shoulders. “I’d like to say hugs are the best type of medicine, next to laughter of course.” he felt his chest warm up at the soft laugh from her lips.

“god that’s so corny.” she sniffles, coughing a bit into her fist.

he laughs, tapping his fingers against her, “well, a old friend taught me that, and it always helped me,” he gives his own cough, clearing his throat as he adds on, “I’ll look for some medication for you, but for now-“

he playfully squeezed her, making her laugh more. her laughs were congested, but he didn’t care, he just cared about getting her better, “let the hugs work it’s magic.”

she giggled, wrapping her arms around his plush body and sniffling a bit, mumbling softly, “thank you, dogday.” she blinks wearily, before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep, her body losing its tension as she inhaled his vanilla scent.

dogday watched as she falls into slumber, his giant hand cradling her back as he nuzzled his face into her hair. “no, thank you, my angel.”

it felt good to give a smile, even in this hellhole, to his angel.

AUGHHHHHHILOVEHIM

[vampiretendencies]

obx4 spoilers ahead (where i’ve been)

well, the obx 4 ending has awoken me from my grave, as a lot of you may know i disappeared over a year ago and proceeded not to update you guys because everything i was going through. i had heard and saw rumors about this ending, but i truly never thought they’d do this to our beautiful boy. i know he said he got everything he wanted, but he’s never ever been at peace. i got attached to his character in april of 2020 when i was going through a harsh breakup and to say the least he healed me.

he brought the spark, now the spark of outer banks is gone to me. he was one of the original pogues, he brought so much light to my eyes when he appears on my screen for the first time. i wish i could go back to that day and experience it again. a lot of people may think this is dramatic, but he was my comfort, ive rewatched outerbanks countless times just for him alone.

i don’t know what to say or do, but i turned to here because i know no one will understand where i’m coming from except for all of you. i’m in utter shock and complete denial, and watching the show through again will always give me this gnawing reminder that he’s gone, and he’s not coming back.

also! the buried him ALONE in morocco, WHY WOULD U DO THAT. he should’ve been buried close to poguelandia or even next to his mother. his worst fear was being alone, and for the writers to do that is fucking beyond me. then to have rafe dig his grave, and the weren’t even close it doesn’t make sense. though i do still love rafe and have enjoyed watching his character development it’s just the truth

anyway, i’ll leave it at that because if i continue

an update on me

i’m now 21 years old, no longer 19, and i feel all of the growing pains.

when i left you guys at the time i was supposed to be starting college, i still have NOT started LMAO.

i am still not doing well mentally and this ending just did not help.

i am currently in a relationship, but idk how much longer HONESTLY.

where this account stands

i don’t have the heart to right now more than ever, i may come back around to it, but i have to get use to him being gone.

writing for him won’t be the same because the imagine of him passing will always be in the back of my head.

i’ll update further soon.

[chipkoy]

here comes the boyyyy~

[whump-a-la-mode]

Hi! Can I ask for a continuation to the supervillain finds drugged and terrified villain on doorstep? Maybe (idk where you’d wanna take it but ig this is just a suggestion) sorta fluff but the villain is terrified of supervillain? Idk where im getting at lmao just write what you wanna write and have fun with it :)

Of course! Thank you both for the asks. I loved that prompt and found it really cute. This one has about the same balance of fluff and angst as the first part, so I really hope you enjoy!

Continued from here.

CW//Medical mentions, past trauma, past drowning, past torture, injuries, food

The medics had left far too quickly.

At least, that was Supervillain's impression of the situation. Only perhaps half an hour after they had been called, their medical team had arrived in full force. Upon the injured villain they had swarmed like flies, with stethoscopes and thermometers and tools that their boss had no clue at all how to identify.

And then, they were gone. The leader of the team made a full report on Villain's injuries, and the care that they would require. Strangulation wounds, malnutrition, half-healed frostbite, and, of course, the beginnings of hypothermia had all stricken the heroes' victim.

But, so the leader had stated, none of these afflictions would require hospitalization. In fact, hospitalization would have likely produced a more negative outcome. With weakened lungs, on account of repeated and merciless strangulation attempts, even the most common of hospital-borne respiratory illnesses could send them to the grave. After all, the whole purpose of a hospital was for it to be full of sick people.

That was all that they had said, before piling up into their emergency response vehicle and leaving the premises.

Leaving Supervillain alone with nothing but a page of written instructions, and a half-dead Villain upon their couch.

Would it have been simple to pass the job onto a henchman? Or even better, a villain with genuine medical knowledge? Perhaps. But every last villain had scrambled off into hiding, and as smart as their henchmen were, this was not their responsibility.

It was the responsibility of a leader to take care of their sick.

And that was exactly how Supervillain had ended up in their kitchen, gingerly spreading butter of two pieces of steaming toast. Though the scent of freshly-toasted bread was nearly irresistible, the food was not for them. The whole situation had left them far too nauseous to even consider food.

But Villain was starving.

Placing down the knife into their sink with a clatter, Supervillain took the plate in one hand, and a topped-off glass of water in the other. They had taken the liberty of warming it-- though a cool glass of water may have been a mercy to some, to the pyrokinetic, it would have, in the best case scenario, caused discomfort. In the worst... Well, they didn't know.

After all, they weren't a doctor.

But, doctor or not, public enemy number one still moved gingerly across their kitchen floor, through the hallways, and all the way to the room where their new, accidental, ward had been settled. So it seemed, the medical examination they had been through had drained whatever energy that Villain had had remaining, seeing as afterwards they had immediately passed out upon the couch. Given that Supervillain was far from the kind of host to allow their guest to sleep on the couch, they had-- gently, of course-- carried them to one of the home's many spare room, and settled them upon a bed.

When Supervillain had left the room, Villain had been neatly tucked beneath the covers, snoring peacefully, if not a little shallowly.

Now, when they entered, toast and water in hand, the bed was empty. Instead, the sheets lay bare, blanket torn away.

They soon discovered why. As slight as the movement was, it was not difficult to tell that the blanket laid in a corner was breathing. The slightest flutter of sympathy danced within their chest-- why was their ward hiding?

"Villain?" They did their very best to make their voice quiet, hospitable, even though they were neither of those things. "I brought food. Are you hungry?"

There was no reply.

Supervillain realized in that moment that, throughout Villain's entire, brief, stay in the home, they had yet to speak a single word. Come to think of it, actually, they had hardly even been awake earlier. Though the medics hadn't believed a blood test to be necessary, the effects of heavy sedation were rather obvious.

This was the first time that Villain was awake, and they had awoken alone. Dammit.

With a soft clack, they set the plate and the glass upon a bedside table, moving towards the shuddering blanket in the corner. The combination of wool socks and carpeted floor made their footsteps almost silent, leaving the room quiet as they knelt down before the blanket. Up close, it was rather simple to see the form of the villain that had hidden themself beneath it.

As much as they would have liked to leave Villain alone and to their own devices, according to the doctor's words, 'they won't be able to survive on their own for a while.' They would need a caretaker, and, through chance alone, Supervillain had wound up in that role.

They grabbed the bottom of the blanket first, about where Villain's feet would be, and gently began to drag it off of their form. As soon as their head was uncovered, they stopped, leaving the fleece to protect the rest of their body.

Anyone could tell that Villain had been crying, sobbing, even. Half of their face was covered in dried tears, cheeks red and eye whites a similar color. As soon as their face was revealed, they struggled to cover it with their hands, revealing the shivering in their limbs.

"Hey, hey." Supervillain reached a hand slowly forth, but stopped short of actually laying it upon Villain, believing that that likely wouldn't aid in their terrified state. "You're okay. I know you're scared, I know. But you escaped. You... You can tell me how you did that later. But you're safe, now. You're in my house.

It's me. It's Supervillain."

That only served to send another wave of terrified shivering through their body, as though they had been struck by a cane.

"If you don't want to talk, I won't make you, okay? But you're hurt. Will you at least drink some water?"

It was as though an emotional grenade had gone off.

In an instant, Villain curled in on themself, burying their face in their knees and curling almost to a fetal position.

"No no no no please no- Please, no. Please let me breathe please I'll behave please not the water please please please no no no."

Supervillain stopped, and noted with a start something they had not made much notice of beforehand: When Villain first arrived, their upper body had been soaking wet.

Someone had tried to drown them.

"Villain." They struggled not to allow their to crack, but fury and sorrow combined were making that a nearly impossible task. "No one is going to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you ever again, okay?"

From the tear-stained blanket, Villain lifted their head, shaking, pinprick pupils staring up at them.

"T-Then." They sniffled. "Then why are you here?"

[legendofzelda4life]

Bows and Shadows

Day 6 (yall know the drill lmao)

Today, as requested, we have Vidow (vio/shadow) non-platonic angst (if it was platonic someone would die).

Hope ya’ll enjoy

TW: blood, murder

-----------------------------

The cool spring wind was nice as Vio and Shadow walked through the forest.

“Trust Blue to get us all split up.” Shadow laughed. “Yeah, right?!? He always gets us into trouble like I love him, but he’s a dumbass.” Vio said as he ducked under a tree branch. (Thats one low ass branch boi)

The pair had ended up in a forest, which was good because Shadow didn’t like the light. It burnt him.

It was also good because the two recognised the forest as the path leading the Shadow’s house. It was more a cave but it felt like home.

The boys didn’t walk much further before they were met with light. Vio refused to let shadow step into it and instead opted to walk across, grab a giant leaf and come back.

Shadow agreed. There was no getting past the protective boyfriend side of Vio.

Trust me, he’s tried.

Vio quickly ran across and grabbed a leaf before coming back.

He held it over Shadow and they walked across to the other side.

A foot or two into the shade, people stepped in front of them.

“Give us the shadow child.” They demanded. Vio stepped protectively in front of Shadow. “Don’t protect that demon! He’s wreaked havoc on our homes!”

Vio pulled out his bow with a smirk.

“Try me bitch. I’m not moving.”

Someone tried to step forward and Vio aimed his bow at them.

The arrows were laced with a natural tranquiliser called borage (its a strong natural sedative). Vio only used these on people because, unless they were evil, he didn’t want to actually hurt them. Juts give them an arrow wound and make them pass out.

“You wouldn’t dare.” They sneered.

Vio fired the arrow.

“Oh but I would.” He smiled devilishly before grabbing Shadow’s hand and pulling him away from the sun. “Now let us go.” Vio demanded.

“Give us the shadow child.” They said once more. “Vio, I don’t wanna go with them but you should leave.” Shadow whispered.

Vio sat down.

“If you’re waiting for that then get comfy, we’ll stay here for the next three days and you’ll all die.” He said, hugging Shadow as he pulled him into his own lap.

The people stood still, giving each other weird looks before one pulled out a sword.

“I suggest you don’t do that.” Vio said. He knew there was another person behind him with a sword too so he turned his head. “Put yours away too.”

The woman behind him looked taken aback as she re-sheathed her sword.

Vio then moved Shadow quickly out of his lap as an arrow fell where the boy was sitting.

“Dear the Goddesses you guys are impatient.” Vio said. He went to pull Shadow back down but looked up to see him being held by two people.

It was only then Vio remembered Shadow had no magic right now. If he did, he would’ve hidden in the darkness to escape.

“Give him back.” Vio stood up and unsheathed his own sword. “Why should we?” Somebody asked. He turned to see a man with a knife. Vio snarled.

“Because you guys are little snowflakes that couldn’t stand a fucking ten year old stealing from your village.” Vio spoke.

“He also took the village kids.”

“But me and three others came in and got them back. Stop crying.” Vio was getting more mad. It seemed Blue may or may not have rubbed off on the usually calm hero.

“V!” Shadow yelled. (mystic messenger who)

Vio looked up to see the people holding Shadow near the sun.

Without thinking he grabbed one of them by the throat and held his sword to it.

“Do it pussy.” Vio squeezed the man’s throat tighter. “Put him in the sun and watch as I kill you.” “You’ll be just as bad as him.” The man said, grabbing Vio’s hand, trying to pry it off his neck.

“Fine by me.”

He slit the mans throat and was immediately hit with a spray of blood.

“AHHH!!” Vio looked up to see Shadow in the sun.

“Shadow!” He turned towards the women keeping Shadow there. “I’ll kill you too!” He pointed his sword at the women.

Besides the two women, there was one other man. But he already ran off.

“Okay.” One of the women shrugged and got nudged by the other. “What? I’d rather die on good terms with this guy. Besides, he’s hot.” Vio could hear the taunting tone in her voice. She wasn’t serious, just trying to piss off Shadow.

Suddenly there was a loud crack.

The girls’ neck was broken and Shadow was breathing heavily, standing behind where she once was. Vio looked behind him to see the other girl was dead too.

“Vio.” Shadow sighed the name as he fell into his boyfriend’s arms. “If I die, promise to *dramatic grunt in pain* bury me upside down, and make Blue kiss my grave.” Vio giggled. “Why?” “I told him to kiss my ass *fake cough* and he said he would if I beat him *fake cough* now I don’t have to.” Shadow pretended to pass out so Vio dropped him.

“OW okay I am actually sore y’know.” “Sorry.”

*Squelch*

Shadow slumped to the floor, a dagger leaving his back. Vio looked up at the source but didn’t have time to process what they looked like before they were dead.

“Shadow! Fucking shit! What the FUCK!” Vio yelled as he dropped down to Shadow’s side.

Y’know it would kinda help if Shadow had a heartbeat in the first place.

“Sha! Sha, wake up! Please...” The boy didn’t move.

“How the fuck do I heal you?!?!” Vio wasn’t asking anybody. Just yelling.

He picked up Shadow and walked the few hundred metres to the boy’s house.

He raided the chest of stuff Shadow had.

“C’mon, c’mon, something to help Shadow... Anything!?” Vio was getting desperate until he found a bottle of dark grey potion.

It looked like if you put a normal health potion on a grey scale.

Vio opened it and poured it into Shadow’s mouth, marvelled as the wound healed.

“C’mon wake up...”

Shadow didn’t move.

“Please.” Vio sobbed, brushing Shadow’s hair away.

Two days later

Shadow still hadn’t awoken, or even moved for that matter. Each day his body faded more and more. Vio was getting worried. What if he just lost his boyfriend? His ally? His everything?!?

What would he do then?

He wouldn’t be able to look anyone in the eyes.

He pondered for hours, holding Shadow’s hand when he suddenly felt his hand get squeezed.

Suddenly Shadow began to move.

It started subtle, but then he rolled completely onto the floor.

“OH MY GODDESSES AM I DEAD!?!?!?” He yelled as he stood up. He sounded...

Scared?

Vio took Shadow’s hands into his.

“Shadow, you’re okay. You’re alive, I’m alive. You’re okay.”

“But I-” He got choked up. “I died, Vio. I got stabbed. I- I- Is this real?” He asked. Vio nodded. “Yes, it’s real. We’re at your house, you’re alive, and I missed you.” He said.

Shadow was quiet.

“VIO!” He yelled suddenly, taking the other boy into a hug. He started crying.

“Oh my goddesses, Vio. I thought I died. I thought I’d never see you again! I thought I was-” He sobbed into Vio’s shoulder.

“Gone.”

Vio left the ��what-the-fuck-is-this-affection?’ phase and slowly hugged Shadow back.

“I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Then why did you kill that man instead of helping me?” Shadow’s voice was distorted.

Vio woke up.

He looked to his left, where Shadow slept the past few days.

He was gone.

Shadow...

Was gone.

And it was all Vio’s fault.

“I should’ve grabbed you before those girls did.” Vio cried, laying his head on Shadow’s bed. “Why was I so stupid?!?” He threw his hat across the room in anger and dropped to his knees, clutching his shirt where his heart is.

“Why Shadow...?”

“Why you and not me?”

END

---------------------------------

Okay I know I said no one would die but like...

Yeah.

I hope you guys enjoyed and didn’t cry.

The og plan was that Blue would kill Shadow and Vio would resent him but nah.

LEAVE REQUESTS BELOW!

REQUETS MUST INCLUDE: PAIRING TYPE/GENRE/CATEGORY (fluff, angst, etc) PLATONIC OR NOT

I WILL WRITE ONLY ABOUT THE LINKS (including the ravio, shadow, and requested characters. Will not write about whole other fandoms though)

I CAN DO READER INSERTS IF REQUESTED (no oc’s tho)

[sickandtideeeee]

By Bast - Chapter 5 (Erik x Reader)

I know this probably wasn’t worth the wait lmao but I hope you guys enjoy! 

Erik N’Jadaka Stevens sat patiently, still enough that if it weren’t for the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply, one could have mistaken him for a wax figure. Quiet and calm he appeared, as he sat on the throne of the cousin he had so cleanly deposed. Yet the storm raging within was undeniable. Erik was, for the first time of his life since he had vowed to take revenge on the family that abandoned him, unsure of his next move.

This uncertainty was obviously unrelated to his plan for world domination – that was clear cut. He had already announced his plan to the Border Tribe general, W’Kabi - they would deliver weapons to all parts of the world where his kin were being mistreated. The best part is he wouldn’t even bother taking time out of his day to talk to rebel leaders. A quick drop-off of high-tech tools of destruction without any guidance or restriction would lead to just the type of anarchy he needed for a paradigm shift. True leaders knew how to seize an opportunity, and he would be the orchestrator of it all. He would let the whole world burn and build it up from the ashes to his liking.

Yet however smoothly his mission had gone according to plan, he couldn’t shake how unsettled he was by that single person - a woman, no less. Never for a moment had he ever been moved by anything of a woman, whether it was a pretty face, a voluptuous body, or a bright, cheerful smile. In fact, he often preferred when his obstacles were women, for he found them terribly easy to manipulate. A little kernel of attention here, a small act of kindness there. Add in a smile, and they would bend over backwards for him.

Somehow, this wildly insignificant woman had impressed on him more than anyone as unremarkable as she was should have the power to. Maybe it was the fact that when she gazed into his eyes that first day in the throne room, he had felt the world stand still for just a split second. Despite having easily pushed her aside to carry out his mission, the moment he was left to his own thoughts in his holding cell, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. When she appeared with one of the Dora guards, he quickly realized why.

She was the woman in the dream he had the night he first heard Bast.

Erik had been tidying up the aftermath of one of his last kills before he had planned to execute Klaue, his key to the Wakandan border. Removal of evidence for him had become so routine that he often let his mind wander from the task at hand while he covered his tracks. What would he eat tonight? Did he remember to unload the dishwasher? He had a girl at home who threatened to leave every time he was out late, a pretty but more importantly, loyal woman named Linda. He smirked at the sheer thought of her leaving – all he had to do was lay some strategic pipe and she’d clean his slate, again and again and again…

Must you continue to thirst for blood like this?

Erik turned abruptly to survey his surroundings, only to stare into unperturbed darkness. The fact that the soft whisper seemed to have originated from inside his head rather than outside would have unnerved anyone, but the average person wasn’t neatly folding a full-grown human body into a bag to be dissolved in a barrel of acid. After a short pause to tune his ears into any new sounds, Erik swung his load over his shoulder and continued on his way home, deciding whatever he had heard had just been a figment of imagination.

He slipped quietly into bed only a few hours later besides the girlfriend he would later shoot dead at a moment’s notice, now asleep and unquestioning of his whereabouts. He had by necessity never been a sound sleeper but that night he was overcome by a slumber as deep as the grave.

When he awoke, he was somewhere otherworldly to the say the least. As a man who rarely dreamt, he wondered if this qualified as a phantom trip. He wasn’t much of a stoner, but you couldn’t always trust what was in the weed these days.

Off in the distance, he saw a figure comfortably laid against a tree, sitting cross-legged on the grass, her head immersed in a book. Odd.

Before he could call out to her for a clue to wherever the hell he was, a pressure started to build in his ears, as though he were suddenly twenty thousand feet in the air. Then one bodiless voice, the same as the one he had heard during his waking hours, appeared to split into two, and both assaulted his ears at once. In one ear, the same voice was harsh, grating, furious; the other, smooth and sweet.

He deserves revenge! He has no obligation for mercy! He carries out my will, I have imbued him with the rage he needs!

He needs love! He needs compassion! He facilitates his own destruction, let him seek the healing he deserves!

He’s powerful and destructive, Bast!

He’s suffering, Sekhmet!

The voices became progressively louder and unintelligible as they argued, until he was brought to his knees, eyes closed, hands clasped over his ears. Soon, he too was screaming in pain as he felt his eardrums tear. Then as he felt a hand gently press on his shoulder, the voices vanished. He looked up to see you smile wide and reassuringly at him. You introduced yourself with your birth name, and he committed it to memory. Y/N.

Let her heal your heart, Bast said to him. He had awoken fazed, but the thought of someone trying to change him laughable. You wouldn’t be the first woman who tried.

When you finally presented yourself to the new king as composed yet stone-faced as only a person who had begun to accept tremendous loss could, Erik realized how pretentious his thoughts were. You couldn’t care less about fixing him, you were too preoccupied with ensuring he didn’t break you.

Okoye escorted you by the arm into the room, her hand gripping just a little too tight. She released you, bowed to the abomination now ruling the country, and left the room. You just barely heard her scoff. Before the throne you stood catatonically, eyes lowered to the King’s sandals.

“I heard you were causing some trouble last night.” N’Jadaka smirked, the need to dispel the uncomfortable silence underlying his voice. You refused to look him in the eye, and responded only with silence.

“Sit the fuck down.” he demanded, the trickster cadence to his voice now gone. He wouldn’t tolerate that same level of disrespect you’d shown before a second time. You considered a small act of resistance, but were despondent enough that you lacked the energy to struggle against his will. Before the throne, you noticed a low table set up with two plates and a pair of utensils for both. You knelt obediently on the large pillow closest to your side of the table, and N’Jadaka approached from the throne and sat cross-legged opposite from you.

The moment your eyes met, you visualized yourself plunging the fork at your right-hand side deep into his neck. Maybe if you were lucky, you would be able to get the internal jugular, and watch him bleed out. Yet, you banished the image and kept your expression neutral and effaced. Servants quickly ran in and out setting food and drink between the two of you, and you felt one too many curious glances as they delivered dishes. The palace would soon be teeming with yet more fodder for Okoye’s misplaced suspicions. A temple maid consorting with the new king?

“Eat.” N’Jadaka commanded. You hesitated. The last thing you wanted to do was share a meal with your father’s murderer, but before you could start another internal monologue, he grabbed you abruptly by the chin across the table, dragging you to him. You let out a small gasp of surprise as the cutlery on the table clattered but did not shatter or drop.

“I’m not about to repeat myself.” He barked, face only inches apart from yours, essentially repeating himself. As he let go of your face, settling back into his seat with his arms crossed, the skin of your cheeks stung, but fear never set in. Rather, your stomach growled audibly, and your mind drifted to the red stain you had stared at all night. You quietly stuffed a fried dough beignet in your mouth and chased it with a spoonful of beans. Soon your treacherous hunger intensified, and you ate appetitively. You were surprised you could eat given your whole life had fallen apart – but such was the power of that supernatural calm.

N’Jadaka watched you carefully as you scarfed down the meal as though you had never seen food before, he himself abstaining from the meal. When you finally reached for the pot of coffee in the center of the table, he cleared his throat.

“You ready to talk now?”

You looked up to him, arm extended and cocked your head to the side incredulously.

“What do you expect me to say?” You replied, flatly. Thanks for feeding me? Thanks for the medical attention? Or the imprisonment, the murder of my father, the overhaul of my country, the list goes on...

The muscles in N’Jadaka’s neck tensed. He hadn’t expected an answer like that, but he couldn’t deny he set himself up for it. He let out a deep breath, and stretched his bulky arms out across the table. You withdrew again, instinctively, but this time he didn’t reach for you. He rolled his shoulders back again and relaxed back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. He sighed again deeply.

“You know, you really got a mouth on you. Like damn, do all y’all Wakandan bitches talk like this?” He sounded more annoyed than angry, yet you looked at him warily, and then to the rest of your surroundings. The servants had long since filed out of the room and you realized the two of you were alone. You became both nervous and impatient. Your stomach was full, your heart was empty, you needed out.

“What do you want from me?” You asked, reticently.

In his mind’s eye, Erik recalled how you had suddenly rushed him at Warrior Falls, and as he turned, his short spear had pierced cleanly into you like a knife into butter. He recalled how you clasped your hands around the spear, and staring straight at him, the whites of your eyes had rolled back into your head, lips mouthing words that seemed less like expletives but primordial curses. His body had frozen still as you collapsed once you had exhausted that last burst of strength, disarmed enough that T’Challa had enough time to place him in a headlock. Rather than hearing his cousin telling him to yield, all surrounding sound had faded and all he heard was Bast give him a warning: Either you spare her, or you doom yourself.

He had thought of disposing of your body the same way he did T’Challa, but as he approached you, the words seared themselves repetitively in his head over and over again. Now you sat before him and Erik truly did not have the slightest idea what to do with you. Yet he was too, dare he say it, afraid to get rid of you.

You were patiently waiting on a response, and the very fact that you expected him to answer to you irked N’Jadaka to no end.

“I’ll ask the questions here, not you. Got that shit?” he said, rising from his seat. As if on cue, the servants rushed back into the room to clear the table.

“Get the fuck out. I’ll summon you again when I feel like it.” He said.

Something compelled you to keep pressing on.

“I understand, and I say this loosely, what your problem was with-“ you watched him tense up again, “the former prince, but what exactly was your vendetta against my father?” You asked insistently, rising to your feet, despite the two Dora who had appeared by your side to escort you away from the King.

The look he gave you was one full of contempt.

"You mean Uncle James?”

Uncle what?

N’Jadaka rose to his feet as well, waving his warriors back, and stepped to you again. “You know, that nigga was the last person I was thinking about coming to this place, but the idea of this motherfucker running around having some bitch calling him pops after that shit he pulled.…”

He balled his hands up into fists, but then clasped his hands together, flashing one of his trademark sadistic smiles.

“I don’t want to hear about that nigga again, got it?” He paused to let those words sink in, then continued. “Like for real, if I hear about ‘your father’ again, Imma have you executed. You’ve been getting too many chances from me so far, babygirl.”

This time the mischievous lilt in his voice barely covered the fact that his tone was the most deadly it had been since the first time he spoke to you. He gave you a patronizing pat on the head.

“Now if you calm down and don’t cause any trouble, I’ll find a good use for you.”

And with that, a whole new set of layers were added to your confusion. Little did you know, N’Jadaka was as lost as you were, too.

Tagging:  @syndrlla97@iwantsomethingeternal@1killmonger@chasingsunlight @hoopshoney@destinio1 @wakanda-inspired @thadelightfulone @lalasparkles @pessimisfit @youreadthatright  @stark-red19, @ruruly20, @bossyboyd03, @autumn242 @heybriheyyy@ thelovelyliterary

[Prologue][Chapter One][Chapter Two][Chapter Three][Chapter Four][Chapter Six][Chapter Seven][Chapter Eight]

[a-hidden-weeb-an-open-queer]

A Haikyuu Draft of a Draft - The Kiss

As of right now, this project is under the temporary name: An Accidental Boyfriending. This the draft of the draft, if I ever get around to finishing this shit. I accept criticisms on dialog. A Kiyoomi and Atsumu character study.

The Kiss

The first kissed they shared wasn’t really romantic; or all that good, either. 

It’s three am and Kiyoomi is wide awake. He’s 22, a pro volleyball player, and he’s never kissed someone before. It’s not something that usually bothers Kiyoomi, and he’s not sure why now it matters, but it does. 

[Ayo: Kiyoomi’s age is defo gonna change here. Research needs to be done on plotline and every1′s age when they go pro, k]

On nights like these, were the night seems to stretch on forever and Kiyoomi can’t stop obsessing over things he’s not, he usually sleeps it off. Maybe, if it was early enough, Kiyoomi would call up Motoya and ask about the endless K-Dramas Motoya is always watching. But it’s late, Motoya’s asleep, and Kiyoomi isn’t. 

[Ayo: Motoya’s first k-drama was defo boys over flowers n he saw it on netflix, it’s canon i promise]

This time is different though; this time Kiyoomi has the phone number of one Atsumu Miya. 

It’s 3:45 am when Kiyoomi calls Atsumu in a night panic haze. Atsumu doesn’t answer until 3:55, voice gravely and thick with sleep. “Fuckin’ what?” 

[Ayo: Atsumu 100% is an early riser, like wake up at 5 am for a run weirdo, but is tots a little bitch whenever he’s awoken up before his alarm. Like full zombie mode with a splash of drag queen’s sass, yea. Make connections to this throughout the story, k.]

“I need to kiss you.” 

“Huh?” Atsumu does sound completely out of it, mumbling straight into the microphone. 

“I need to kiss you,” Kiyoomi repeats.

“Yea, but like, why now? It’s fuckin’ -” the sound of rustling and Atsumu’s voice sounds farther away the next time he speaks, “- 3:56 in the mornin’, can’t this shit wait till practice or somethin’?” 

The sunlight will awake Kiyoomi from this emotional haze and he’ll put this crisis behind him, chalking it up to the delirium of a hard week. He’ll wake up, still be 22 without a single pair of lips every touching his, and it makes him feel so universality alone.

“It’s romantic.” 

“No the fuck it ain’t - annoyin’ more like.”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, slipping on his shoes. “Fine, I’m in love with you and I no longer can contain this burning desire to have your lips on mine.” 

“Oh my fuckin’ god.” 

Atsumu hangs up. 

[Ayo: ive always wanted to write somethin where the main ship never says ‘wanna date?’ or like...confesses. idk just seems funny to me to just slowly build a relationship into a romantic one without all that much effort or like...intent ? yea - so Atsumu and Kiyoomi basicly soulmates n sorta just click tis is why they do shit like this so casually. ngl i really just wanna see if i can get these two married witout ever askin each other out lmao]

----------- 

Atsumu never locks his room. 

He threatens, arm wheeling and mouth foaming as he paces, bi-monthly to do it. Kiyoomi once sat through a thirty minute rant on bounderies and respect after Bokuto mistakenly took Atsumu’s room as his after a party -- drunk Bokuto is a very annoying Bokuto. 

But, after all the rants and notched up accent, Atsumu never actually goes through with his threats.

[Ayo: Ill probo delete this since i wanna reference Atsumu’s consently being awoken up -- prob use it as a reason 4 Atsumu sleepin over at Kiyoomi’s n shit -- so it will be a bit pointless to have this inner monolog bout shit we already know, yea. I also wanna have this scene of Bokuto n Atsumu written out properly]

[also, MSBY hasa dorm sitch goin on -- like theres a common room with a kitchen n main hanging out area. Every member gets their own room w personal bathroom -- optional housing. Kiyoomi doesn’t live there -- does have a room tho when he doesn’t wanna go home home after practice -- Atsumu does]

 Kiyoomi isn’t that surprised to find the room dark, Atsumu obviously fell asleep in the ten minutes it took for Kiyoomi to get here. Atsumu can be real loud if something is happening that he isn’t okay with, which is why Kiyoomi feels no guilt in ripping the comforter off of Atsumu. 

If Atsumu didn’t want to kiss Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi would already be fully aware by now. 

“Omi,” Atsumu half groans as he rolls onto his back. “You can’t just go around snatchin’ people’s blankets. What if I was sleepin’ naked?” 

Kiyoomi, because he’s not an actual asshole, asks, “Can I kiss you?” 

“Now you fuckin’ ask, not when - ugh, fine whatever.” Atsumu makes grabby hands at him, “come give me a smooch.” 

Kiyoomi nose scrunches, “not romantic at all.” 

Atsumu chuckles, dry and rough around the edges as Kiyoomi drifts closer, hands still clutching the comforter. There’s moonlight streaming in from the window, and along side with the lights of the city, it bathes Atsumu in an ethereal glow; it’s almost inimiate, with Atsumu half naked on his bed, head tilted back with an inviting laziness. 

Kiyoomi decides, as first kiss goes, this would isn’t half bad. 

Of course, Atsumu ruins it by opening his mouth to speak and breathing a wave of disguising morning breath all over Kiyoomi’s face. 

“Yer-umph,” Kiyoomi slaps a hand over Atsumu’s mouth. He gets a very confused look, eyebrows drawn up and eyelashes blinking in quick, erratic movements. 

“You need to brush your teeth.” 

Atsumu pulls Kiyoomi’s hand away from his mouth, “ya gotta be kiddin’ me. This is so many steps for a kiss I didn’t even ask for.” 

Kiyoomi leans far back on his heels, frowning slight; he feels bad for bothering Atsumu with such a random request and then demanding more after Atsumu already agreed to something simpler. 

Atsumu swings his legs over his bed, scratching as his chest. “if I’m brushin’ my teeth, so are you.” 

Kiyoomi trails after Atsumu, feeling pleasantly content. 

“Yer toothbrush is still here from last time.” 

The bathroom is too small to fit two, towering pro athletes, so Kiyoomi leans up against the doorway, watching as Atsumu brushes his teeth for the whole minute Kiyoomi insists on.   

When Atsumu’s done, he walks towards Kiyoomi with a slight swagger and teasing eyebrow lift, “Minty clean” He puckers his lips dramatically. 

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, stepping back so Atsumu can slip out of the bathroom. “You’re insufferable.” 

[Ayo: Headcanon time, sorta. Both Atsumu n Kiyoomi dont like physical contact; obvs Atsumu is more chill with it than Kiyoomi, but like, Atsumu dont mind highfives n that type of shit but he aint real big on touches he can avoid, which is a pretty important thing that will be expand on farther. Love launage is just bigger than kisses, yea n I wanna show their progression of relationship throu how comfy they r with casual touches between each other, yea]

Atsumu laughs, “yer the one that wanna kiss me.” 

Kiyoomi flips Atsumu off, brushing hard at his teeth. Atsumu just laughs harder. 

-

It isn’t until Kiyoomi is standing across Atsumu, does Kiyoomi realize that knowing how to kiss might be required for kissing someone. 

Atsumu, ever smooth, just raises his eyebrows.

Kiyoomi decides it can’t be that difficult, kissing is just lips on lips and so Kiyoomi goes for it. 

“Ow, what the fuck, omi? You said kiss, not pratcting banned WWE moves.” Atsumu is holding his face. 

Kiyoomi staggers away from Atsumu, his own nose stinging as he glowers at Atsumu. “It was a kiss.” 

Atsumu blinks, once, twice at Kiyoomi before folding at the waste in laughter, “That was not a kiss- assault maybe.” 

[Ayo: Atsumu speaks with a statement, pauses, and then farther explains the statement as above. just a way to keep dialog diff between ‘em. Also also, when feeling more emotions then usual -- like tiredness or anger -- Atsumu’s accent gets hella worse, hints why this scene it’s so heavy]

Kiyoomi face feels hot, lips pulling downwards as he glares at a Too-Amused-Miya, “Our lips touched, it was a kiss.”

Atsumu shakes his head, straightening up to his full stature. “Yer just bein’ prideful, itsa okay to be bad at kissin’ - I won’t tell anyone, promise.” 

Kiyoomi doesn’t doubt Atsumu, if there’s one thing he’s good for, it’s keeping a promise. 

[ayo: maybe do somethin with this? like Atsumu makes a promise and hella sticks to it for years, idk what tho so lmao]

“Not like anyone will believe you, anyways.” Kiyoomi challenges. 

Atsumu must be really feeling the lack of sleep now, because his eyes are droopy and his smile lopsided -- not the typical sly smirk that appears whenever they banter. Kiyoomi takes pity on him, just this once. 

“Good night, thanks for letting me kiss you.” It’s a lost for Kiyoomi, they both know it, but Atsumu lets it slide with only a prideful smirk. 

“Good night, Omi-Omi. M’happy to help.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Kiyoomi says on his way out, having to keep his dignity somewhat. 

-------

Later that evening, when dusk is starting to appear and Kiyoomi is half asleep standing up with Motoya’s voice in his ear, he announces: “I kissed someone.” 

There’s a break in the nonestop chatter about whatever Motoya was watching before Kiyoomi called, then a sharp inhale followed by an overly excited vomit of of questions.   

“Who? When? Wait, go back to who first. Who did you kiss? I didn’t even know you were interested in, well, in general. Who?” 

[ayo: Defo change this but a rough draft is meant to be...ugly so] 

Kiyoomi sighs, squaring up his shoulders as he shuffles towards his bed. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up, however, if Motoya found out Kiyoomi didn’t mention it the day it happened, he would have been even more insufferable. And pouty, so goddamn pouty. 

“Atsumu.” 

“Oh, well, huh. Why him?” 

Kiyoomi lays down on his bed, staring up at his ceiling. 

“Well,” Kiyoomi starts. He hears Motoya take a sharp breath in, and Kiyoomi can practically see him leaning forward in anticipation. “He answered the phone.”

Motoya lets out a long sigh. 

----------

The writing style is defo gonna change; for a rough rough draft, I like to keep things as simple as possible while also staying as comfortable as possible, so it’s pretty boring ngl. 

This fanfic is going to cover a shit ton of years, but I also want it to be as simple and short as possible, so I’m probo gonna do that summery + detailed moments style. 

This story is also gonna be sectioned into three different acts: The before friendship. The during friendship. And the romantic relationship. This scene takes place during the early climb of ‘During’. It’s super imporant to me that they are 100% besties before getting together, here neither of them hold any romantic feelings for each other -- they’re just two bros kissing it up. 

That’s it. If you’re a real person reading this and not just me, then lmao.