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finelinevogue · 2 days ago

Note

Hi i was wondering if you could write an aaron hotchner fic where the reader gets really bad anxiety and Hotch is always there for them? Maybe like established relationship?

“drop the sir”

yes yes yes - my new loml aaron hotchner <3

cw: i guess this is shy!reader | anxiety | reader scratches their hands | she/her pronouns used | no established relationship sorry! i wanted this to be a developmental thing

word count - ~1.5k

The first time that Aaron noticed your anxiety was on your first day at the BAU.

He had remembered you from the internship programme where he had shown you around the place. One afternoon with you and he had known that you deserved a place amongst the team here. It was no surprise that 6 months later - after your internship - that you were hired full-time.

You had walked into the BAU, bag hanging on your shoulder and you had clasped it like it was your lifeline.

Aaron had noticed you all the way across the room from his office. He had been speaking to Reid, but soon paid no attention to what the genius was saying as he watched you nervously look around the room like you were out of place.

He'd gone over to you instantly, wanting to be the first person to reach you.

"Y/N?" He had asked, holding out his hand for you to shake.

It didn't go unnoticed the slight tremble to your hand as you reached out to give his a shake, accompanied with a nervous smile.

"Agent Hotchner, Sir." You nodded.

"You might wanna drop the 'Sir', it'll go straight to his head otherwise." Garcia said in passing as she walked past you both.

You chuckled as you shook your bosses hand. He had a firm grasp. They were firm and calloused, but somehow made you feel like you were in safe company. After he let go you felt disappointed, although you still had the pleasure of looking at him - standing in front of you in a clean suit and his hands in his trouser pockets.

"She's right." Aaron smirked, before resetting to his normal stoic face.

"Am I in the right place?" You asked.

"If you're asking that question then I'm afraid we might've hired the wrong person."

"O-oh, no.. I-"

"I'm joking." He gave a small smile, making you breath out a sigh of relief. You really hadn't wanted to get fired on your first day.

Luckily for you, Aaron had caught onto the fact you were nervous and made sure you knew he was only teasing you. The last thing he wanted to do was make you feel uneasy. Starting a new job was difficult, he knew that, and nerves were high - he wanted to make sure that you felt as comfortable as possible whilst settling in.

"Didn't realise you made those." Garcia said, walking passed again.

"Garcia, don't you have a job to do." Aaron said, using his usual frowny face unlike the one he'd been using with you.

"Yes, Sir." Garcia said, walking away with a smirk.

"Welcome to the BAU."

💼 . 🎞️ . 💼

It wasn't until someone brought you up in conversation that he thought about your shyness for the second time.

"So what do you think of the newbie?" Morgan asked, making a coffee. Aaron seriously questioned whether Morgan actually did any work around here seeing how often he caught him hanging around the coffee machine.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah."

Aaron looked out of the break room kitchen and across the room to where you were sat at your desk.

It had been a week since you've joined and you'd been really involved with helping with paperwork so far. Your supervisor had been teaching you various bits of information throughout the week, but Aaron was wondering whether they were wasting your capabilities by having you stuck at a desk constantly.

He'd also noticed how quiet you were.

You never initiated conversation at someone else's desk, only ever if they came to you first. You never left your desk for random breaks, you just kept your head down and did your paperwork. He'd seen you in the break room maybe once and that was only to make a drink.

"Shy." Aaron responded. "Quiet."

"Reid said she's done twice as much paperwork as Catherine and she's been here 5 weeks less than Catherine."

"Well, Catherine is a waste of space." Aaron said honestly, causing Morgan to choke a little on his coffee from his bluntness - not that he disagreed.

"Well what do you think?"

Aaron turned from watching you chew on the ends of your pen to face Morgan, who had been watching him the whole time instead of you.

"I think she'll be interesting." Morgan smirked into his coffee.

"For what?"

"No, buddy." Morgan patted Aaron's back. "For who?"

Morgan left the room with Aaron frowning in confusion.

You'd be interesting for who?

💼 . 🎞️ . 💼

Aaron was known to have a quick temper, but no one had seen him quite like this.

"Missing files!" He shouted around the room. "No one is leaving this building until someone can tell me where they are."

Aaron ran a stressed hand over his jaw.

The room was silent except for the humming background noise that the air conditioning was making. People were nervous to look at their boss, much less look up from where they were hiding against themselves.

You in particular were shaking like a leaf in the wind.

You had covered your sweater over your hands to stop the urge to scratch away at your hands - as you often did when your anxiety spiked. Your hands were often scabbed, scarred and quite frankly... ugly from where you'd subconsciously scratched away at your skin. A habit that had stemmed from younger years.

"Who was working on the New Orleans case last?" Aaron asked.

Everyone was silent - no one dared to speak up.

A pit dropped in your stomach. You had been working on those files a couple of weeks ago, maybe even in your first week of the job. Catherine had been helping you organise a bunch of files and you'd spotted a mistake in the paperwork for the New Orleans case. She had said to leave it to one side and that you could come back to it later. You'd assumed the paperwork had been changed, corrected and put back but now you're not so sure.

"Anyone? Someone must have?" Aaron asked again, his patience wearing thin.

"Y/N was, Agent Hotchner." Caroline spoke up from where she was stood near you.

Your heart went then, pounding against your chest. Your mouth went dry and you could feel your body start to heat up.

There was a part of you that wanted to bring Caroline down with you, but you were only new here and you were terrified of stepping on anyone's toes. You hadn't even chatted with anyone in the break room yet in case you started chatting to someone who didn't want to talk to you.

You looked around the room, lots of faces staring back at you.

You felt like you were going to stop breathing. The situation was far too overwhelming.

Worst of all was when you looked at your boss. He sighed as he looked up at the ceiling in stress before he returned his gaze to you.

"Y/N. My office, 5 minutes."

As soon as Aaron walked off and back to his office the rest of the room started up with hushed conversations. You could feel people looking at you, probably for the last time since you were no doubt about to be fired.

It was embarrassing.

You didn't dare sit back down at your desk, afraid you'd get told off for that.

Caroline gave you a pitying look as if to say 'should've-been-more-careful' and in the deepest of your heart you really wanted to call her out on it. It was her mistake too and she'd been training you. It seemed a little unfair to pin this all on you.

Nevertheless you walked your way slowly towards Aaron’s office.

Your hands unwound themselves from your sleeves and your right one started scratching the skin on your left one.

You only notice when you start scratching, not the continuation of it so it quickly dropped out of your mind that you were doing it.

You knocked on Aaron’s door twice.

“Come in.”

You made your way inside, shutting the door behind you and coming to stand in front of his desk.

He was sat in his chair behind his desk, paperwork everywhere. It looked chaotic and disorganised - much like he was probably feeling.

Aaron looked at you with his piercing eyes, no doubt profiling his way through this situation.

You tried to maintain eye contact but you lasted all of three seconds before your eyes turned to your hands - which were now red raw from the scratching.

“I need you to quit that.” He spoke in a neutral tone.

You looked up at him, eyes a little blurry from where the tears wanted to fall but you refused to let them. You nodded in understanding.

“Sure.” You swallowed the hard lump in the back of your throat, “Would you like be gone by the end of the day o-or, like, in ten minutes time, because I can pack my stuff up in –.”

“Y/N.” Aaron tried to cut in.

“—a few minutes. I just need to…”

“Y/N.” Aaron stood up.

He rounded the desk and stood a mere metre in front of you. You braved to look at him and noticed how sad his eyes looked. Those sad brown eyes looked at you so softly, whilst his eyebrows couldn’t decide whether to furrow or stay straight.

That’s when you noticed his hand outreaching towards yours, ever so slowly with an almost hesitation.

“Stop, please.” He said very quietly.

You looked down to where his hands were meeting yours and you understood what he had meant now. He hadn’t meant quit quit, he had meant quit scratching your hands.

“Sorry.” You quickly held your hands down by your sides, refusing to draw more attention to it.

Aaron’s hand retracted, but some part of you wondered what it would have felt like if his skin had touched yours again.

Would it have felt as warm as you remembered? Or would it feel more electric this time?

The room was quiet but you knew Aaron was waiting for you to speak.

“Agent Hotchner, um.. Sir.” You cleared your throat before looking at his eyes, so he could tell you were speaking the truth, “I didn’t lose those files, Sir.”

You stood your ground, not allowing your anxiety to take over this conversation.

Aaron nodded his head.

“I know.” He said with a small smile.

“You do?”

“Dr Reid messaged me somewhat 30 seconds before you came in here, notifying me that the files were found in the paper bin closest to Caroline’s desk. They’d been filled out and filed incorrectly, am I right?” He waited for you to nod before continuing, “And you spotted the mistake? Caroline pulled the files to the side, I assume and made it look like you’d messed up.”

“Yes. Sorry, yes Sir.”

Aaron nodded his head.

“Y/N, why did you let Caroline use you like that?” Aaron asked, crossing his hands over his chest.

You looked down, ashamed with yourself.

“I don’t know, Sir. I guess, maybe it’s because I’m still new here?”

Aaron made his way back around his desk, allowing you to breathe without his shadow enveloping you. It was a weird thing to note that you sort of missed his near presence though.

He made his way to sit back down, leaving you standing with nothing to say or do.

Aaron picked up the phone and dialled in his assistant.

“Hi, yeah. Could you let Caroline know I want to speak to her in my office in ten minutes. Mhm. Yeah. Yeah, no, tell her it’s to do with her redundancy.”

You tried not to gasp or looked shocked when Aaron put down the phone abruptly, but hearing that Caroline was being fired for her mistake was quite the turn of events. She was no doubt going to think you tattled, too, when actually in fact Aaron is just a damn good profiler.

“You’re free to get back to work, Y/N.” He gave you a curt smile.

“T-thank you.”

You gave him the best smile you could, before you turned to walk out of his office.

You could feel his gaze on you but you didn’t turn until he called your name a final time.

“Y/N?”

“Sir?”

“You’re doing a good job here. Keep it up, just drop the Sir - It’s Hotch.”

Both you and Aaron were smiling as you left the room.

💼 . 🎞️ . 💼

[BONUS]

You started the day by finding a gift bag on your desk.

Looking around the room you tried to catch someone’s attention to figure out who was behind this. Was it some cruel prank or was it a real gesture? Ever since Caroline had been fired people had been nicer to you, almost thanking you for initiating her leave.

Before unpacking your bag or even taking off your coat you removed the tissue paper from the bag and unwrapped the small box inside.

You came across a small white box, rectangular in shape with cellophane wrapped around it.

You turned the box over until you noticed the name and contents; ‘Smoothing Hand Cream - Sensitive & Kind to All Skin Types’.

There was only one person who could have bought you this.

You quickly turned to Hotch’s office and saw him standing at his door with a coffee in hand. He nodded at you and gave you a smile with teeth - something that was very rare.

Something that was more meaningful than a tube of hand cream.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner blurbs #bau team

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diorcities · 2 days ago

Text

with you (teaser)

spiderverse chronicles. haechan x reader, mark x reader genre fluff, action, mature content content spiderman au, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, selective mutism, sign language, smut (not in the teaser) more tba teaser wc 1.5k full fic est. 20k

an: since i'm making progress on the story (shocking) i'll share a little teaser. the past few days i've consumed a lot of spiderman content, it's not funny anymore. it was a sign of the times. i'm so excited to write this. happy reading ♡

description: after a catastrophic scientific explosion, chaos is unleashed in new york. a deaf girl must face the city that she once knew now submerged in a mayhem, pairing with a daily bugle intern to try to solve the mystery when one of the many affected with extraordinary abilities seems to have a duplicity between good and evil.

he can sense you're there.

just moments ago he had swept the area, now, he looks intently at the boxes loaded into the helicopter.

“planning on stealing the moon tonight?” he's growing bored. “you guys aren't elusive at all, you should practice a little at that.”

the ambiguity of his own reaction puzzles him. there was no hurry in his movements, nor the usual tension. instead, there was a deliberate pause, and this unbearable boredom.

he's quick to deflect a couple of bullets; it comes out spontaneously now. all his senses are enriched. everything vibrates. everything sings. he's sneaky instead of a fighter. and he's also fond to make jokes at inopportune times.

“isn't this labor exploitation?” he inquires. “i hope you get paid overtime,” he says again when in response, a dozen men point their guns at him. he reacts shooting his hands upwards.

“easy, i'm your friendly neighbor.” a man turns to him. the big fish. “oh, my bad, i mistook you for some lookalike with a bunch of small yellow people.” he also doesn't miss the opportunity to make an emphasis on his size.

wilson kingpin snorts, annoyed. “after months, i'd think you'd stop acting like a kid.”

“i am a kid.” he chuckles, removing the mask.

there was no point in hiding his identity when the old crow knew who he was from the very beginning, though it also made him a prospect for his tasteless jokes.

he takes a look at the containers when the man turns his back at him and shout instructions. “nano-technology prototypes...” his voice comes out in an interrogatory tone, sniffing through the large box.

the man in charge sees him snooping around when he speaks. “are you interested?”

“they wouldn't hurt,” he replies, distracted; something stirs inside him when you move closer.

“take a few, see if you put it to good use.” he sneers and he mimics him, nonchalantly.

he's pretty quick and elusive. skills, he guesses, his best traits; but even though, he might need some; he's been doing alchemy lately, so he grabs two and when the man looks away, grabs a few more. he can put good use to that kind of technology. “any other tasks you need me to do?”

he bristles when the man smiles, agreeing; he's been waiting for the moment. doing silly tasks, dirty work. finally he was getting closer to get what he wants. “yes. why don't you take care of that little reporter mouse?”

fisk goes back to his job as if he's bored, and his lips tighten into a grimace that he already knows, making him take care of you.

“was this what you wanted, to steal technology?” you ask to the wind. the men hardly pay attention to you, but he does.

he must acknowledge that you have guts even though fisk is giving you a window because you don't pose a threat. not because of his size, but because of his influence.

“what's in the boxes?”

“as if i were going to tell you.” he mocks, hiding behind the mask. “why don't you cover tonight's weather instead, family of murderers?” he sees you freeze. “why don't you leave these matters to us and you take care of yours? seems like you're in deep shit,” he says, taking one step closer.

when you realize it, he's in front of you and you have nowhere to run. yet your feet recede to the edge. “mmm? don't test your luck and stay out of it.”

he gives you recognition that you don't look even a little intimidated. “who are you?”

his smile almost reach his eyes, “as if i were going to tell you,” he repeats, morbid.

fisk growls behind you, and something dark spreads on his gut, “get done with it, bug.”

he does what he says. first, he steals it from you in one move. and you're not quick to protest when his hands half-push you and your feet stumble. doing silly tasks, dirty work. one more thing and it will end.

nevertheless, getting rid of you is hard for him.

your hands try to hold on but he pulls away, so you fall into nothing.

like a bullet, he watches you fall, waiting. and when a blue boost barely flashes around you, he moves away from the edge. afterward, you just fall into new york.

#mark x you #haechan x you #mark lee au #haechan au #haechan angst #mark lee angst #mark fluff #haechan fluff #haechan smut #mark smut

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peachhcs · 3 days ago

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Samy does the trend where she wipes off the kisses that will gives her

i love that trend it's always so funny. samy's never wiped will's kisses off before so when she does it he's very shocked and immediately thinks he did something wrong. surprisingly someone else JUST about this so i’ll post it now :)) i wrote up so many of my requests last night to clear out my inbox but this was super fun!!

au masterlist

samy set her phone up while will was in the bathroom finishing getting ready. she saw the trend after scrolling through her for you page all morning and of course, she had to join in. pranking will was literally her favorite activity and it was payback for him spitting all of his water into her face the last time they made a tiktok together.

she pretended to be doing something on her computer while she hid her phone behind one of the potted plants on the counter. the bathroom door opened a few minutes later and samy could hear will's footsteps.

"hey, i'm gonna leave now. are you gonna be all good by yourself for a few hours?" will asked as he came up to her chair.

samy nodded, "yeah i'm gonna be fine."

"i'll be back at like 3 probably," the blonde leaned down to press a soft kiss to her cheek. samy immediately wiped her cheek when he removed his lips and will quickly made a face.

"what?" he grew confused.

"what?" samy played dumb.

"you just wiped off my kiss," will pointed out.

"i didn't," samy gaslit him and the blonde swore she did.

he decided to kiss her again this time on the lips. samy copied her exact movements from before and will definitely wasn't seeing things this time.

"does my breath smell bad or something? i brushed my teeth," the hockey player didn't know why she was wiping his kisses off.

"it smells fine," samy hummed and will stood above her staring at her confused.

he began wracking his brain of something he might've done wrong in the last few days, but when he couldn't think of anything, will was even more confused than before.

"are you mad at me or something?" he asked.

"no, why would i be mad at you?" samy finally caught his gaze and she had to stop herself from laughing when she saw her boyfriend's pout.

"because you're wiping off my kisses. did i do something wrong?" it was so hard keeping the bit up when he looked at her like that.

"no, you didn't. i'm just doing school work," samy said and that didn't answer any of will's confusion.

"you've never wiped my kisses off before?" the blonde pouted even more and samy couldn't keep it up. she bursted out laughing and poor will just stood beside her in confusion.

"it's a prank, baby, i promise. i love you," samy grabbed her phone and showed him the camera that was recording. the hockey player quickly rolled his eyes and gently shoved her.

"you're so mean to me," he mumbled as he went to grab a water from the fridge.

"i'm sorry, baby. it's payback from you spitting water in my face a few weeks ago," samy half joked.

"whatever. it was funny. that wasn't funny. i thought i did something wrong," will complained and samy got up to bring him into a hug.

"i'm sorry, you didn't. i love you. have fun," she kissed his lips to make up for the prank. will kissed her back, glad she didn't wipe her lips off after this time.

"i love you too. i'll see you later," he pecked her cheek and then finally left to go hang out with some of his teammates. he just knew he was about to get roasted in those comments whenever samy posted the video.

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tgmsunmontue · 3 days ago

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^^^Someone needs to write it where Bradley does it on purpose and chickens out because I WANT TO READ IT...

In the meantime here is something I cooked up where Bradley is an idiot with a crush the size of Jupiter.

... ... ...

The first time it's a legitimate mistake, Bradley messaging his old college roommate Izaak with a picture and the comment being an in-joke about buying wings when they were hungover and promising marriage. He's a little hungover, eyes blurry, and it's not a wrong number exactly, but it's not the right one either.

Fuck.

He has to change Hangman's contact in his phone to actually Hangman and not Jake. What possessed him to put it in as Jake? It's right below Izaak in his contacts.

He changes it and then blinks in confusion. Without any other names starting with I it doesn't matter if he's entered as Hangman or Jake, his contact details are still right above or below Izaak's.

Regardless he messages Jake again and apologises for the message, saying he got it wrong. Fully expects him to take the piss next time they see each other.

Then he messages Izaak with the actual message and bemoans several things:

his hangover

his messaging Jake

the fact that Izaak isn't there to bring him greasy food and he had to leave his house to do it

Of course Izaak answers back almost immediately:

>>Jake the guy you've got a massive crush on?

Oh no.

No no no.

Bradley is not of sound mind and body right now and Izaak is going to be like a shark scenting blood in the water. Then his phone vibrates again and he peers down at it, realising Jake, no, Hangman has now messaged him back

**Wings and a wedding. Winning combo!

**Damn. Ah well. The wings look good. Enjoy.

Bradley blinks, because is that... flirting? Is Jake flirting with him? He screenshots it and sends it to Izaak along with a row of question marks.

>>Oh, so it's not one sided.

It sure as fuck is, Bradley types back.

>>My money on your moustache that he's interested in you.

Bradley rolls his eyes, because he's not going to give in to juvenile games they used to play in college.

>>Anyway, you're meant to be getting fitted for your suit for the wedding. Send him, and me, a picture of you getting all dressed up.

Bradley chews his bottom lip, because it's not the worst idea Izaak has had.

... ... ...

Thing is, Izaak is getting married and Bradley is his best man. So he's right at the top of his recent contacts. And occasionally he forgets who is the most recent, not double checking who he's sending messages to. Fortunately Jake just seems to have resigned himself to receiving messages from him out of the blue with no to little context.

... ... ...

Over the next 10-14 days Jake receives images of Bradley:

Dressed in suit, asking if his ass looks big.

Jake wants to bite it.

In bed all sleep rumpled, complaining about the early hour and being awake.

Jake wants to kiss him, bring him coffee, and run his fingers through his curls.

Gym selfie, saying he's working on his stamina.

Jake wants to know what the fuck for??? He stares at that one for too long for it to be healthy. He doesn't care.

Then there's the other messages, nearly always with pictures.

Looking forward to seeing you and catching up.

Made this for dinner tonight, my skills in the kitchen have improved greatly!

Did what you suggested and went and patted all the dogs at the shelter. Helped a little.

Moustache is in fine form! Thanks for asking!

You know me, happy to sleep anywhere.

Sun's out guns out!

You jealous?

New do!

Why would I bring a +1? I'm going to be a bit busy.

He even answers some of them. Sometimes with a looking good Bradshaw, almost as good as me or with ????? when he's simply confused. When he answers he nearly always gets an apology for bothering him again with a message not meant for him. Jake doesn't reply with a I really don't mind.

It's all providing a glimpse of what Bradshaw might be like with his friends or maybe his girlfriend or boyfriend. Jake doesn't even know that much, because they're not fucking friends. He wants to be though. Wants to be more than friends, wonders if that's ever going to be possible.

Jake asks Bradley about his plans for their upcoming leave and Bradley seems surprised that Jake doesn't know. Says he's going to his best friends' wedding, that he's the best man. Jake expresses surprise that his best friend isn't in the service and Bradley says he had years at college first.

Jake realises then that Izaak must be right beside him in Rooster's contacts and he desperately wants to know what name he's under.

Then he gets a message that reads:

I have it so fucking bad for him it's ridiculous. I mean, how is he so hot? Look at this asshole.

Attached is a picture of Jake himself from earlier in the day.

This is giving me hangster vibes

#Hangster #Sereshaw #Top Gun Maverick fanfic

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 13 hours ago

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sorry if this is like uncomfortable or off limits but uhhh

really sweet and loving smut with dave- him and his gf have been dating for a few years now but shes still a virgin and whenever Dave made advances on her she would go until they got their pants off bc she was too embarressed- but one day, Dave makes sure they have the most perfect day together, going out and getting fav foods, doing fav actvoties all the good stuff and hopes the night will end w them in bed. she hesitates a lot but agrees none the less and they get the the bedroom and kissing and stuff and when he has her laid out on the bed he reaches to take off her skirt/pants but she gets really nervous and scared again bc she thinks that hell think shes a monster or ugly or messed up but she just has SH scars on her thighs and dave reassures her and comforts her that nothing vcould make him think that and he takes them off and feels a bit sad that she once did that but kisses them and praises her and is just very sweet and then its gentle loving smut

sorry this is so so so so so so so so so long and confusing but yah love ur fics btw

A/n: Something about Dave just gives me the vibes of “hurt her and I’ll kill you” but in a “I’ll give anything for her” kind of way, y’know?

Warnings: Smut, oral (f receiving), angst, talk about self harm, brief description of scars, drugs (just at the beginning), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

"She's just gonna stop you again." Junior said, chuckling as he held the joint between his fingers out for Dave to take.

The ginger scoffed as he took the joint, bringing to his lips. "She won't, she said she was ready." He insisted, holding the air in as he spoke before letting smoke flood out his nose.

Junior made a face and Dave pushed him, knocking him off the box he was sitting on. They just laughed, so hard Dave fell off his own box and they laughed harder.

"Fuck, we are so high." Junior mused, reaching for the joint back.

Dave had planned out the perfect day for you, a walk down through the park, down by a creek and taking a straight from there to a new café he knew you'd been wanting to go check out. Then it was back to your place and he'd finally get to have you to himself.

Everything had been going great, just the way he planned, although he hadn't expected the food to be so pricey, but it didn't matter so long as he got to see you smile.

As you walked with him up the street, getting closer to your house, you could tell something was on his mind but he wouldn't say.

"Come on! Just give me a hint." You pleaded, tugging on his arm thrown over your shoulder.

"No, it'll ruin the surprise!" He said, laughing at your insistence.

You chewed your cheek, thinking for a moment as you turned the corner, your house coming into view. "Tell me or no you're sleeping outside." Dave stopped completely at that.

"Are you kidding me?" He asked, eyes wide in fear that you weren't joking.

You bit your lip as you thought it over, eventually shaking your head. "No, I want my cuddles tonight." Dave let out the breath he'd been holding in and wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Don't scare me like that." You chuckled as he lifted you up, letting you wrap yourself around him like a koala bear. "I'm serious, I'm not a dog, I'm your boyfriend."

"That you are, Davie, that you are." You purred, kissing along his jaw as he walked the rest of the way to your house.

He pulled the keys from the back pocket of your jeans and opened the door, letting you hold onto him until he set you down on your bed. He hovered over top of you between your legs, arms on either side of your head, caging you in while his soft hair fell around his face, framing it.

Not that you could see it, his lips barely left yours for longer than a second to mumbled something into your mouth. However, you felt his hand sliding lower on your body, groping your chest which he'd done countless times before, moving down your sides and squeezing your hips and waist, mapping out your curves.

His hands didn't stop and he unbuttoned your jeans before you could stop him. "Davie-Davie, wait." You said, pushing on his shoulders until he pulled away.

"Why, what-what happened?" He asked, looking over you for anything that could be wrong, searching for what was making you uncomfortable.

"I- we-we have to stop." You said, squirming under him.

"Why?" He asked, brows furrowing slightly. He didn't mean to get upset but it was hard not to, he loved you, he didn't want to hurt you, he wanted to show you how much he loved you. "Tell me why, I'll get off if you just tell me why."

You nervously bit your lip, holding yourself up on your elbows. It's not that you didn't want to go further, you tried to convince yourself every single time that it would be fine but you had to stop before he saw what you'd done to yourself when you were younger.

"I- my legs are... I have scars." You muttered, looking down to the sheets instead of him.

"Scars?" He repeated, looking for confirmation. "Like, stretchmarks?" He asked. "You're scared I won't like your fucking stretchmarks? Oh my god, are you fucking kidding me-"

"They're not fucking stretchmarks, Dave." You bit, cutting him off.

He stared at you for a moment, not having expected you to use such a harsh tone with him. "Then what is it?" He asked, his voice significantly lighter.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the upcoming conversation. "They're from me..." You mumbled, still not looking at him.

The pieces slowly connected in his mind and his expression softened. "Sweetheart, you made them?" He asked, reaching up to cup your face in his hand. "Why? Why would you do that?"

You chewed your cheek, not really having an answer, not one that would be good enough for him, anyway. "When I was younger... Highschool was hard, Dave." You mumbled, hoping even though it was vague it would satisfy him.

Dave looked over your eyes for a good long moment before inhaling deeply. "Well, highschools over, you have me now." He kissed your lips and moved down to your jaw and neck. "And I love" then he kissed your collarbone and pushed up your shirt to reveal your stomach, "every." he kissed just under your bra. "Single." Your abdomen. "Part." Finally he tugged your jeans down and you lifted your lips to let him.

He took in the scars embedded in your otherwise pristine skin, some deeper than others, all over your thighs. His gaze met yours as he continued to pull your jeans off. "I love this part of you, too." He said, making sure you heard him. "I don't love that you felt like you had to do this, but I love you no matter what."

Dave adjusted himself so he was laying between your legs, his arms hooked under your thighs as he held the plush flesh of them in handfuls.

He planted tender kisses over your scarred tissue, looking up at you periodically to make sure you were watching and enjoying yourself.

Soon his kisses moved to your panties, watching you twitch and bite your lip. Dave smiled and kissed right over your clothed clit. "That feels good, doesn't it?" He asked, waiting for you to nod before he continued. "It's gonna feel a lot better soon." He assured, giving a last kiss to your scars before pulling your panties out of the way and licking up your folds.

He hummed, satisfied with the noise it drew from you. His tongue swirled around your clit, listening to the whines you let slip passed your lips as he did. "God, you sound so pretty." He mused, licking up you again before his tongue delved into you.

Your hand slammed down onto the mattress, clutching onto the sheets as he fucked you on his muscle, his eyes staring up at you the entire time as his nose repeatedly bumped your clit. Your hands clenched and flexed, mind going blurry at the sensations he was bringing between your twitching legs and trembling thighs.

He watched you come undone, watched your hands finally let go of the sheets to grab onto his hair so you could pull him right to you, holding his face to your cut as you rode out your high on his face. "Hah-! Oh-oh, fuck, Dave!" You moaned, back arching off the bed and your head fell back.

Your foot pushed down on Dave's back gently, moving down his torso as you slowly came down from your high, breathing as heavy as your eyelids.

Dave moved back up the bed, wiping his mouth and chin of your juices. "How was that?" He asked as he hovered over you, hands planted on either side of your head. "Feeling loved yet?" He teased, pecking your cheek.

You chuckled, hands going to his shoulders. "Mm... I could use some more love." You said, pulling him down to kiss you. "You know, to really feel it." He smirked at the implications of your words, grinding against you, his jeans snagging your clit and making you whimper into the kiss.

"I can do that, I can definitely do that." He muttered against your lips. He reached down to undo his own jeans, pushing them down and kicking them off the bed before he pulled away and tore his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the ground with the rest of the clothes.

He looked down at you, still with your shirt bunched up by your tits. You sat up, pulling it off and wrapping your arms around his neck, lips crashing into his once more.

Neither of you broke the kiss, only taking quick gasps for short breaths. Dave unclipped your bra and slid it off your arms before trying to get your panties off, only to eventually give up and just snap the flimsy strings on the sides.

Dave quickly got his own boxers off and pulled you into his lap, easily slipping into you in a swift thrust and holding you down as you moaned. "Ngh- just sit-sit still for a minute, it'll- fuck, it'll feel good in a second." He stammered, trying to hide his own sounds, his muscular arms tightening around you.

Needing more friction you reached down to rub your clit, Dave took it as a sign to start moving so he rolled his hips up, bucking into you. You choked out a moan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

Dave snapped his hips into you, tip of his dick angled just right for you. When he heard the moan that left you, felt your muscles relax in against him, he knew he found your sweet spot and hit it repeatedly, setting a steady rhythm.

"That's it, let me do all the work, let me show you how much I love you." He said, mouth not far from your ear so you could hear every word of his praise. "You sound so pretty, and, fuck, let me show you how much you deserve to be loved."

Part of you wanted to stay hidden in his neck, but the other part won, the part that wanted to pull away and bounce on him, to hold onto his shoulders and watch him fuck you.

Even sitting in his lap you were only barely eyelevel with him. His bruised lips parted slightly, just enough for soft grunts and grown to leave him, along with whatever affection he decided to spill to you. His eyelids were heavy, lust and adoration swirling in his pupils.

The knot in your gut was tightening again, Dave was close and pulsing in your gummy walls. "Don't-don't ever do that again." He blurted, struggling to keep the same rhythm. You tried to ask what he was talking about but it just came out as moans. "If-if you ever, ever feel like that again you-you come to me and I-I'll- fuck, I cah-can't-!" With a few final thrusts he finished inside you, cum painting your insides.

You followed shortly after, fingers still on your clit, the warm, gooey feeling he spilt in you was nice too.

Dave lowered you down onto the bed, pulling out and curling up beside you. His arms stayed nicely wrapped around you as you laid your head on his chest.

"So," you started once you got your breathing right again, "do you want to finish what you were saying?"

Dave snorted and shook his head. "No fucking way." He brought a hand up to play with your hair. "You're tired, go to sleep, I'll be right here when you wake up." You didn't have to be told twice, smiling softly and letting the sound of his heartbeat and breathing lull you to sleep.

Dave lay there awake, tired but not enough to sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about you, about what might've driven you to do such a thing to yourself. He didn't see you as a monster, some messed up psychiatric patient, you were still his love, his girlfriend. You were still you, just with a little more hurt that he needed to help heal.

"If..." He started, voice low to avoid waking you up. "If you ever feel the need to hurt yourself... you come to me first, sweetheart, I'll help." He knew you couldn't hear him so he continued. "You can hurt me all you want, can't break plastic... but you, love... you are the stained glass in a century old chapel."

#megadeth x reader #megadeth smut #megadeth imagines #megadeth fanfiction #megadeath #megadeth rp #megadeth #megadeth fluff #megadeth angst #dave mustaine angst #dave mustaine fluff #dave mustaine x you #dave mustaine x reader #dave mustaine smut #dave mustaine imagines #dave mustaine rp #dave mustaine fanfiction #dave mustaine

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canirove · 3 days ago

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Canary boy | Chapter 3

Previous chapter | Next chapter (coming out on Tuesday)

Masterlist

“Inés, did you just giggle?”

“No.”

“Inés, I know you, and you just giggled. Who is the lucky one who has managed that?” Carla says. “Maybe the tall guy we met the other night?”

“The one who thought I was a lesbian because I played football?” I snort.

“What?”

“Men” I shrug.

“That's… nevermind. If it isn't him, then who is it?” she asks again, raising her eyebrows up and down like that Milhouse gif.

“No one.”

“I don't believe you” she says, snatching my phone from my hands before I can hide it in my bag.

“Carla!”

“You seriously need to put a password, Inés. What if someone steals your phone and sees all your sexy photos?” she smirks.

“I don't have sexy photos” I reply, rolling my eyes.

“Why? You are sexy and… Why is Pedri sending you a photo of him eating churros?”

“It's an inside joke” I say, taking advantage of her shock to get my phone back. Maybe I do need a password on it, but to avoid having her lurking.

“An inside joke? Since when do you have inside jokes with him? And that was WhatsApp, Inés. Not Instagram. I thought you only followed each other there.”

“Not anymore” I say.

It had happened the day after our churros date or whatever you want to call it. We had spent the night chatting on Instagram, Pedri asking me about how meeting my grandparents had gone, and telling me that his hungover had come back with violence once he had made it home. And the morning after, he had asked me for my number because he liked chatting on WhatsApp better, the “oh my God” I screamed when I saw that message being heard by the whole building. Like I already said, I'm stupid and I like getting my hopes up too fast and too much.

Though it's been a week, and we've been texting daily and very often. Very often.

“Inés…” Carla sighs. “He has a girlfriend.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Because this totally looks like flirting.”

“What?” I laugh.

“Having inside jokes about churros of all things? Texting on WhatsApp? The fact that he has made you giggle?”

“Carla, we are just friends.”

“No, you aren't. You fancy him, Inés!”

“Who do you fancy?” Aitana says, sitting next to me.

“No one” I quickly say, focusing on tying up my boots to hide the colour of my face.

“Who does she fancy?” she asks Carla.

“Someone she shouldn't.”

“Víctor?”

“What?” Carla and I say at the same time.

Víctor is one of the men's team stars, another young player from the academy like myself who made it to the first team at the same time I did. And since we both also play in the same position, everyone has always joked that we are destined to end up together, himself included. But the thing is, that I can't stand him. I've never have.

As a kid his ego already was too big for someone so young, and now it is even worse. The fact that once the awkward teenage years passed he turned out to be quite hot, girls all over the world being so obsessed with him that it sometimes is scary, hasn't helped.

“I don't know. Since he is someone she shouldn't fancy and you've always said that you can't stand him…” Aitana shrugs. “We are filming some stuff with the boys after training, by the way. He'll probably be there.”

“Urgh, don't remind me of it” I say. “They'll probably put us together again.”

“They have to give the shippers their monthly content, Inés” Aitana teases me.

“Idiot” I reply, giving her a little push.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry” she laughs. “But you know it's true.”

“Whatever. Let's go training and stop talking about men” I say, standing up.

“Yeah, let's go avoid thinking about the mess we may be getting ourselves into” Carla says behind me before following us.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“And Inés, you will be filming a guess who with Víctor.”

“Great” I sigh.

“Did you say anything, Inés?”

“I was just wondering where he is” I quickly say.

“Were you missing me, my love?” someone says behind me.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Almost as famous” Víctor laughs. “Looking beautiful today” he smirks, putting his arm around my shoulders.

“Thank you” I reply, moving to be in front of him so he stops touching me. “Where were you? You are late.”

“Is that jealousy, Inés? Are you worried I may be seeing someone else?”

“What?” I laugh.

“You look really cute when you are jealous” he smirks, closing the space between us so he can caress my cheek. But I'm faster, and take a step back just in time to make him miss.

“I'm not jealous, Víctor.”

“Of course not, my love.”

“I'm not your love either.”

“Yet” he winks. “Anyway, should we start filming this thing? If we finish early we can go grab something to eat… or whatever you fancy.”

“What I fancy, is to go home. Alone” I add when he is about to say another of his stupid flirty sentences.

“Always so harsh, my love.”

“I'm not your… urgh” I groan. Lord, grant me patience, because if he says another my love, I'm gonna end up committing murder.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“And now who is calling… me” I say after finally making it home and checking my phone.

This can't be real. It has to be a mistake. He's trying to call someone else and dialed my number because we had been texting earlier. Or maybe not. Maybe he actually is calling me. Maybe something happened. Maybe he needs my help. Maybe he is in danger! If he is, I should probably answer and stop with my internal dialogue, shouldn't I? Ok, you can do this, Inés.

“Pedri, why are you video calling me? Is everything ok?”

“Hello to you too” he chuckles.

“Hi, sorry. But is everything ok?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you calling me?”

“Because my head is about to explode after being in front of my laptop working on an assignment for the past few hours, and I needed a distraction.”

“And I am a distraction?” I laugh.

“You have no idea” Pedri smirks. He… umm… what? “Anyway, are you free? Do you want to go out for a walk? I seriously need to leave my room and have some fresh air.”

“I just made it home, but… Yeah, why not?”

“Great!” he says with a smile that makes me feel all fuzzy inside. “I'll call an Uber and pick you up. See you in a bit, Inés.”

“Bye” I smile back before he hangs up.

Did I just agree to go out with Pedri? As in some kind of… date? But it is a friends date, of course. Because that's what we are. Just friends. Though one of the friends is completely infatuated with the other, and for the past week may have been dreaming about very steamy cooking dates and other things that involve his churro. But my period just left and the days after I'm horny, ok? Ok.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I can't believe that as someone born and raised in Barcelona, I had no idea this place existed.”

“That's because you are a mountain girl, Inés. The sea doesn't call you the same way it calls me, an island boy” Pedri says.

“What?” I laugh, taking the hand he is offering me to help me jump from the rocks we just walked down to make it to the beach. I could very well do it myself, but letting him be a gentleman and help me won't hurt anybody, will it? Unless you ask Carla, of course.

She would probably say that us touching like this would cause a tsunami that would destroy the city. Though maybe the sea starting to boil due to the heat that is going through my body and coming from it right now, would be more likely to happen. Dear Lord, Inés. He's just holding your hand! Stop being so lame and… horny!

“You don't like the sea” Pedri says.

“I do.”

“But not as much as you like the mountain” he says while we walk, still holding hands. “When you have some free time, you always go hiking or for a walk around the woods, you don't come to the beach to have a swim like I do.”

“How do you know that?”

“I've seen it on your Instagram” he smiles. Wait a second… Pedri has been paying attention to what I post? What? And more importantly… why? “You are a mountain girl, and that's ok. Next time you have to take me to one of your favourite spots.”

“Next time?”

“Today I think this is the perfect one for us” he says, putting down the backpack he was carrying and completely ignoring my question, which only means one thing: I will be thinking about it and what he meant with next time for the rest of my life. “Fancy a beer?”

“What?” I say, my brain working again and making me sit down on the sand next to him.

“You can drink beer, can't you? Or is that something you are not allowed to anymore?”

“Oh, no, we can. They just suggest us to not drink too much.”

“I'm not planning on getting you drunk, don't worry” Pedri winks before opening one bottle and passing it to me. How did I manage to take it from his hand and not let it fall after that wink and our fingers touching again? Nobody knows. “So, what should we toast to?” he asks after opening one for himself. “This place?”

“Nah, that's too boring. What about… to getting distracted?”

“I like that. To getting distracted” he says, raising his bottle.

“To getting distracted” I reply, doing the same with mine before drinking. “Urgh, I had forgotten how good this beer is.”

“It is your favourite, isn't it?”

“It is, yes. How do you know? My Instagram again?” I ask with a teasing smile. Wow, Inés. Bold move there.

“No, not this time” he laughs, the sound making me feel funny things on my stomach. “I know it is your favourite because you mentioned it the last time we all went out together after class.”

“How can you remember that? I can't even remember what I had for lunch yesterday” I chuckle.

“I just do” he shrugs, taking a sip from his beer.

After that, we both stay in silence, neither of us saying a word while we drink and watch the sun set behind the waves. But it isn't an awkward silence. It is one of the most comfortable and nice ones I've ever experienced. Nice, until the worst thing ever happens.

“Oh my God, Inés!” Pedri laughs while I cover my face with my hands and wish the sand would open and swallow me whole. “What was that noise? A dinosaur?”

“I'm so sorry you had to hear that” I say from behind my hands. “But I haven't eaten anything since before training and…”

“And you are starving. Big time” he laughs again.

“Yeah.”

“Should we go grab something to eat? After hearing that, I'm afraid you may try to eat me.”

“What?” I say, daring to look at him. Which is the biggest mistake ever, because he is: one, smirking, and two, way closer to my face than I had expected him to be.

“Are you going to eat me, Inés?”

“What?” I repeat with a nervous laugh, my eyes moving from his to his lips. Have I said yet that they are the most kissable lips ever? Kissable, and edible too.

“I fear you might” he says, closing the space between us a bit more.

“Pedri…”

“Inés…” he whispers, his face now so close to mine that I've felt him saying my name on my skin.

He is going to kiss me. He is, isn't he? Why else would he be so close to my face right now? There is no other explanation, is it? He is going to kiss me. He…

“Inés!” he laughs again when my stomach makes another horrible noise, sending to hell my hopes for that kiss. “C'mon, let's get you some food before you actually eat me.”

“I was about to” I say, speaking before thinking.

“I know” he smirks, getting up from the sand. “But there is a really good restaurant close by, and their food tastes way better than I do.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Uh?”

“Nothing, nothing” I say, quickly standing up. I think I'm so hungry it has started to affect my brain. “Sorry about the dinosaur in my stomach.”

“You don't need to apologize, Inés. I actually am quite hungry too. Shall we?” Pedri says after putting our empty beer bottles back on his backpack.

“Let's go” I reply, forcing myself to smile and to ignore the fact that we, as in Pedri and yours truly, almost kissed. I think.

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri x reader #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri fanfic #pedri gonzalez fanfic #pedri imagine #pedri gonzalez imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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astracora · 1 day ago

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Hi! Idk if u take writing/drabble requests but I'm chronically ill and have wondered how the LaDS boys would treat a chronically ill MC. Thank u for reading!

Hey! I've never taken writing requests (primarily cause I have no idea if I could do them justice or offer what people are after). As a chronically ill person myself, and as someone who writes their main mc as chronically ill, I'm a little bias, in that I personally think the boys would treat their partner with understanding, love and affection regardless of who that person is or what they're dealing with!

For basic pov overviews though! (All chronic illnesses represent differently! I'm working mostly off personal experience without being TOO specific.)

- Zayne is probably the most initially knowledgeable about the nature of chronic illness. He'll have seen plenty of people struggling and managing their own around his job. He's also shown to research topics that are important to him. There's very little doubt in my mind that the man would pull up every medical document and every study done, working late into the night in his free time to make sure he has a specific understanding for what you'd be going through.

- He's also probably the one who pushes more to make sure things get done. Medical appointments, any medication that's required. He's harsher on things that can harm you, cause a flare-up or increase the strain on your body. He cares and he worries, and he just wants to help alleviate what he can.

- It can be frustrating and overwhelming, he's not perfect, no one can be when it comes to offering support, especially for things that have no cure. If you explain to him how it makes you feel, he walks back and tries to find alternatives. Softens his approach somewhat. He's a logical man so he'll always jump to trying to give a solution, but he cares so deeply, if you say you just need an ear. He'll be there.

- Raffy is interesting because his reactions to his lemurian biology make my brain go 'oh he probably gets it' but instinctually. That sometimes things hurt more, sometimes days are just harder, sometimes it takes more energy and willpower to exist than expected. Thinking about his recent card especially, and the way his health dipped in and out. The way it was obvious he's weaker and gets sick without moisture or water. It's a different reasoning, but he understands to some degree.

- He's the king of creative solutions and the one most likely to focus on trying to inject joy and laughter into your life. He's also a man who doesn't care about money, canonically this boy is the 'what does it cost 10 dollars'. So whatever you might need, he's bought before you've even thought about it. (Even if he does tend to buy those really useless trend items that absolutely don't help with your condition and they're just a scam... so so many out there.) He may not have the best ways to help, but he'll never ever treat you differently. Love in his eyes, a masterpiece in his heart. Raffy will absolutely never stop wanting to paint you no matter what.

- His words can be harsh, he might say something that hurts without meaning too, a joke that doesn't land, or a tone that itches more than you'd like. Somedays you aren't bothered, somedays it hurts. He'll always give a heartfelt apology, and adjust the way he acts so it doesn't happen again. I can imagine him making a mood tracker, how are you feeling today? Move the smilie face if you know.

- Xavier is the one who sits you down and wants to talk about it most. Not because he won't do his own research, he's happy to, but he needs to know how you feel above all else. He needs to know how to support you, especially out in the field. He's your combat and mission partner. He's also incredibly observant. He'll notice when a flare up starts. He'll notice if your mood is dropping. He'll notice when you're starting to feel like you're drowning. He's also nearby, at all times. He checks in on you constantly. Through messages or just dropping in. (He promises the food he brings is takeout and not a remnant of a burned down kitchen.)

- Do you want someone to keep you company at night so it's less lonely? Do you want him to stay around and help ease aches and pains. He and Zayne especially know good massage techniques. Xavier because fighting can destroy your body without good upkeep. He'll go out and grab things for you. He'll assist you happily. He totally didn't buy more cleaning robots so you can worry less about the stuff around your house when you can barely leave your bed.

- He's wary on the battlefield, probably initially treating you like glass. It's because he worries and he cares. He doesn't want anything to happen to you. Sometimes that bothers you though. You live with this, you have for years, and you know how to live with it. He's protective by nature, but he also trusts you to tell him when you've hit your limit. While he's always ready to step in, it has to be by absolutely necessity or your permission.

- Sylus is a researcher too, but unlike Zayne, he has no basis to work off. As evidenced by his stories and texts, however, he will learn ANY skill in order to help the MC, or make his own life easier to control. This is no different, I think the only difference would be, his first instinct is not to go to medical documents and studies. He goes to people. Finds leading experts, no matter the cost, learns from others with conditions similar or as close to yours as he can. He wants to be able to have a proper conversation with you about your chronic illness, so feels like he has to have a good basis of understanding before he starts. He wants to be able to ask important questions, to piece together context. To sit you down and give you OPTIONS. Because sometimes it's really hard to know what you need, and sometimes someone telling you what they can offer is better to give you somewhere to start.

- He's also another 'throw money at it' kind of person, but he will buy you the kind of equipment to help that hospitals use. This man buys top range shit, that he KNOWS will have some effect on lessoning your strain or alleviating some degree of pain. Is there a tool the doctor suggested that you think could help? He bought it yesterday, he got five, he doesn't want to leave them in his other bases incase something happens but he's willing to have Luke and Kieran bring them to you wherever you are. Will set up grocery shop orders for you, doesn't care how much it is, does it make your life easier? Alright, it's done. While admittedly he leans a lot on money to help, it's the best way he knows to help.

- Probably struggles initially with his job, with the stress of his general life, his degree of injuries and how stress and strain can directly impact a chronic illness. It probably causes him to pull away a little bit. He cares a lot, and because of that he worries he'll be a hindrance more than a help. Would be the type of person to try to help from afar, forgetting how deeply important it is to have a support system that's available and physical to help. While he'll try to keep the worst away from you (I don't want to give you anymore nightmares of me), he'll listen and stop pulling away when he realises that him being there means everything. So becomes far more physically present as well, though the amount of money he wants to spend on you probably does not go down.

Fundamentally though, the boys are all people who even with their flaws, would listen and learn and attempt to be as supportive as they possibly can be. Days are hard, and life can be tough, and chronic illness is exhausting to combat. It could never make them love you any less, they're in to the long haul. They just might occasionally need a little nudge to really understand what you want from them.

Every last one would understand things like cancellations because of bad days or mood swings and low moods, would be willing to do your grocery shops, would go to doctors appointments with you, assist with physical therapy if needed, so this is less about how they'd treat you, and more the methods they go about it.

I hope that was kind of what you were after! 💖

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seven-oh-four · 2 days ago

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Baking every week of 2025 - Week 1: Bread Pudding

(sorry for the awful photo and also sorry it's half-eaten i forgot to take a picture before serving. future photos will be better maybe pobably)

howdy! if you didn't know, last year, i tried to draw a monster every day at @monster-every-day. i made it over 100 days!

this year, my new year's resolution is to bake a new baked treat every weak. (the monster every day thing last year wasn't a new year's resolution, but this one is.) i think it will bring a lot of joy into my life!

so i'm starting it off with something i like to bake a lot, bread pudding! ...okay i guess it would be more accurate to say i'm baking something DIFFERENT every week, as opposed to saying i'm baking something NEW every week

i make bread pudding using cinnamon raisin bread from the store, and coconut milk instead of regular since i'm lactose intolerant.

so!

this was probably my worst bread pudding ever lol

it was a lot gooier than usual and didn't taste as good. probably because my mom skimped out on the sugar (the sugar technically belongs to my sister and she doesn't like when i touch her stuff so my mom has to scoop the sugar). but my family didn't notice a difference and it was still pretty good. tasted better after being left out to rot for a few hours! ^_^ (JOKE)

overall i'd give bread pudding in general an 8/10. my favorite bits are the edges and the top, they have a much nicer consistency whereas the core of the bread pudding is a lot more gelatiny and has a more noticeable egg flavor. but this particular bread pudding is more like a 6/10. still good though

anyways! if you have any recommendations for things i should bake, go for it! recommend away! i'm gonna need a lot of ideas to fill out 52 weeks of baking and i currently have 1 (one)!

and thank you for reading! we'll see how long this lasts!

...oh crikey i should probably get an actually good baking pan instead of these casserole containers if i'm going to be baking this much...!!!

#baking every week of 2025

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rebouks · 12 hours ago

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It's been a while since I read your story and sadly I come here today as a hater: I'm afraid you're not cooking with this romance storyline with Robin. Seeing him kiss Aster was the weirdest thing because he's the most asexual character I've seen in a while. You joked how people didn't believe Robin would get a smooch but it's still not believable, at least not to me. Sorry, but I'm not eating what you're serving. I hope you don't take this badly. But if you do, you have the right to kill me.

There's also something that gave me pause: the reveal that Penny cheated on Levi once and will likely do it again, and probably with Jacob since she has a crush on him.

I just can't see Jacob entertaining Penny. First, Jacob would never accept Levi's sloppy seconds. And second, I think Jacob has an arrogant side that would clash with Penny's attitude of thinking highly of herself. "I'm too good for you" is what I see coming from him regarding her. He's a womaniser but he has taste, and Penny is rotten to the bone like Victoria. And because they're teenagers, Jacob ridiculing Penny as an indirect jab towards Levi would be so realistically petty. There's nothing quite like hitting your enemies from all angles. I'm sure Bruno taught him that. And with Levi being such a doormat, it seems it'll take somebody else to put that girl in her place and knock her down a few pegs.

And Penny's reaction to being rejected for the first time would be a sight. It's what she deserves.

And speaking of Bruno, he must come back! Ivan and Francesca are cute I guess but Brivan is still the 5-star dish and I like the spice Bruno brings to your story. Imagine if Francesca's crazy ex turns out to be an actual problem and Ivan had the bright idea of hitting up Bruno when he realised he couldn't handle the guy? "We split because I wanted to return to this life and you didn't, but now you come here asking the mafia to get involved in your life again so we can help you sort out a guy...? You've lost your mind. You and your woman just need to go to the police like everyone else with an abusive partner. Now get out." but then think twice when he meets the guy in question when he contacts Bruno's family to buy an illegal firearm from them, babbling how he's going to "fix" his ex's new boyfriend and get her and his son back. Initially, he'd be hurt Ivan only sought him for the sake of his new girlfriend, but Bruno will be damned if anything happened to the man who owns his heart and their little daughter. And we know he doesn't mind getting his hands dirty, huh? :3c

Hmmmm maybe you're not wrong to refuse what I'm serving! Maybe it was made in a shitty diner by a jaded cook who didn't wash their hands and thought rat droppings were sprinkles?? FFFFFFF.. no but I get it, Robin and Levi's plan kinda sucked from the get go and him kissing Aster like that was pretty uncharacteristic.. but alas he is a teenage boy with bad decision making skills and false bravado from his little gift, so here we are.

I will say that he's definitely not asexual tho and if I have, I didn't mean to give off that vibe for him.. believe me, most of these teens, including Robin, are thinking and (sometimes) acting on thoughts right now, wink wonk (hell, I know I was at that age) but it's not something I particularly feel like being too graphic about since they're still teens y'know? I've mostly just implied or alluded to such things when necessary, so my bad if that's not coming off too well, but rather that than be too crass.

I may have joked about Penny cheating on Levi with Jacob, and she definitely would if given the chance, but I think you're right that Jacob wouldn't be interested in her, she's far too high maintenance for him and he'd totally be against the idea of touching Levi's seconds like.. no thx! 🫣 I would love to see her try and get shot down for sure tho, that'd be hilarious!! Someone needs to take her down a peg or two one day! Part of me hopes it IS Levi who does so, but we'll have to see.

Hmmm hmmm hm.. Bruno! As much as I still love Brivan I don't think there's even a slight chance Ivan would ever go to him for help, especially since he went back to that life, even if he thought it'd help. He's so against everything it stands for.. it almost took his life, Oscar's in a roundabout way, Cookie's?! and it DID suck Bruno back in, he's waaay too stubborn and proud as well like, Bruno fucking left him for THAT? Are you kidding??? Fuck crawling back to him for ANYTHING, nope. he'd never! Now, that's not to say Bruno wouldn't jump in without Ivan's permission but (and I'll let you off for this cos we don't know Lee too well) he's way too much of a coward to take matters into his own hands like that. He's just not dealing with losing Frankie/Sawyer in a very healthy way, hence the bullshit spewing from his mouth. He's probably asleep on the job or some shit atm, not buying firearms from Kaden n' co. in Oasis Springs, however exciting that may be.

All that being said, I hope you still like the direction I go with all these threads, because they ARE all going somewhere. We're just dealing with people who don't always make the best decisions at the end of the day and that's what makes this stuff interesting to me! We don't always have to like the path or the choices these guys make but hopefully they all learn something along the way! Or not, I guess? That's also fun sometimes lmao 🤸‍♀️

#ranswers #eheheee #we're all thinking thoughts rn i bet but let's see where all this goes #👀🤭

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mtheonott · 1 day ago

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Winter emptiness.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

⌗ angst, comf, winter, au

word count: 812

note: :р

Fatigue. Regret about life. Unpleasant feeling of your own body. The unbearable burden of existence. Or the void. You didn't know what you were feeling at the moment.

There were no more tears streaming from eyes, and time didn't feel like it was moving at all. The cold wind helped not to completely lose yourself in this moment.

A hand rested on the railing next to you, but you didn't even turn around because you knew who he was. Theo. This is the first time a guy who is always frowning and distant has ever looked at you with anything other than annoyance.

You never got along with him: the eternal barbs, jokes, quarrels and meaningless conversations about who is better. But at that moment, it was as if you both felt that this place wasn't meant for childishness.

Nott took off his scarf and casually wrapped it around your neck to protect you from the winter weather. His gaze drifted to your cheeks, which were covered with fresh tears.

— What happened? — Theo asked indifferently as he scanned the night sky.

The Christmas party was in full swing, but fate decided to block out too personal a moment from prying eyes, making you cry on the balcony. The December frost stung you face pleasantly, but it didn't matter. You were still staring blankly ahead, not even looking at the houses. Mouth opened involuntarily, as if to answer for its mistress.

— Nott, what did your parents give you for Christmas?

The boy frowned, replaying the memories in his head.

— Video games on the console. And what? — He answered without taking his eyes off your face.

— My parents didn't give me anything. Absolutely, — you shrugged, — For the first time in my entire life.

Theo chuckled. His amusement didn't even surprise you, because this is his typical behavior - making fun of other people's problems.

— That's so touching, — he laughed a little more until he realized you were serious and rolled his eyes, — Oh, please don't tell me you were crying because Mom and Dad didn't give you anything.

You didn't react to his laughter in any way. Not up to it now. Sighing again, you decided to open your heart for the first time, hoping to get something in return.

— After Mom died, Dad started working twice as hard to provide for me and my younger sisters. Every day to see his torment was already unbearable. I couldn't even bring myself to remind him of a gift for me. Before, only my mom used to buy me presents, but now she's gone, — you finally looked down at your hands, — When I was little, I used to dream about my eighteenth birthday: lots of friends, a vacation with my parents, and the coolest gift from them. However, all I have now is a couple of friends. It's a shame, isn't it?

Nott stopped smiling as he looked at your face, completely drained and lifeless. He sighed languidly and released steam from his mouth, or rather condensed moisture, as the brunette mentioned earlier during another argument.

— I'm sorry, but you can't feel sorry for yourself. The world is cruel, and believe me, I know it. But if you don't grow up and realize that the past won't come back, you'll spend the rest of your life in misery.

Theo looked like he was speaking from his own experience, which he clearly had. Your lashes fluttered slightly and you looked up at him. The woman's dry lips were slightly parted in small surprise.

— You know you're a jerk, right?

— I know, I know perfectly well, but someone had to tell you the hard truth, — he shrugged, — You can live your whole life in misery and sadness, blaming the rest of the world. Or exist as a normal adult and find some semblance of happiness. Choose for yourself.

The guy took one last look at the night city and left the balcony, leaving you alone with his words. You watched him go. The words echoed in your mind, and heart began to pound again. When he left, you sighed and licked your dry lips. Standing up and wiping the tears from your cheeks, you promised yourself to look at the world with your head held high. He's right. You have to live happily without paying attention to the little things. This is just a stage that can be bypassed in no time, if you force yourself to stop.

Soon, you came down to the party, smiling and laughing. Hips began to move again to the New Year's music, and mind cleared of problems. At this time, Theo was looking at you from the side, grinning and making a note for the future - take a second scarf with him.

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joltai-showa · 2 days ago

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Exhausting day, so let's yap about something fun.

I've seen a post floating around that went something like "imagine Naruto releasing now, Akatsuki gang would be called woke" and I wanna take this concept another step further and talk about how generally these S-rank criminals are surprisingly tolerating of each other.

(though side point nothing will ever help these men and Konan beat the fruity friend group allegations, like they are wearing matching coats that are TERRIBLY impractical when you are working as, you know, a fucking ASSASSIN. and the nail polish? can anybody explain how that idea came about? like, I guess it's not surprising that members like Konan and Deidara aka Ms. and Mr. Insane Make Up Game of the Terrorist World would paint their nails, but why is Nagato sitting Pain's bodies down for a manicure? The local 195 cm tall fishman agreeing to a pedicure? Why the fuck is Uchiha "killing readers with boredom that I evoke with my 13 hour long yapping about despair and hopelessness" Obito still doing his pedicure in KAGE SUMMIT ARC? BRO, LET GO OF THEM, YOUR BESTIES AREN'T COMING BACK, YOU SENT THEM ALL TO THEIR DEATHS, YOU PIECE OF SHIT, EVERYONE IS 15 SECONDS AWAY FROM MURDERING EACH OTHER, WHY ARE YOU PAINTING THE NAILS ON THE ARM YOU ARE ABOUT TO ATTACH??? omg🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄)

Because I am a lore nerd, I am completely fascinated by the sheer difference between the members. And I speak both of the age and the geographic differences, which, realistically, should create some absolutely wild scenarios between the members.

So let's start by separating the gang by age, because they've actually got three pretty definitive clusters in their group when we look at them from that particular parameter.

Kakuzu is in his own subgroup, being *checks notes* jesus christ 91. Kakuzu is actually older than the village system itself (Kishimoto can't count, so it was either founded 60 or 80 years before the events of Shippuden, and either way Kakuzu spawned in this world on hardcore difficulty way before the clans in Land of Fire decided to stop terrorizing each other and chose to terrorize everyone around them). Mind you, the characters from the major Hidden Villages that were constantly joked about as being these ancient fossils and those who have seen the dawn of fucking civilizations were people like Chiyo (73 years old in Shippuden) and Onoki (79 years old). And. Like. Shinobi generally don't live that long even in the villages where they can live in relative protection and have an opportunity for retirement. Kakuzu's out there collecting his retirement fund from any unlucky motherfucker who gets his face plastered into a Bingo book or something. And he was probably doing that even before becoming a member of Akatsuki. Which. Lmao.

And considering the fact that he was in some sort of fighting age whenever fucking Hashirama was still alive, Akatsuki's old man is likely actually written in the history books that they read in the hidden villages (do kids even learn how to read? I'm pretty sure the villages value kunai throwing more than reading huh). Or at least in the history books of nukenins. Wait, scratch that, he is probably one of the people who is the reason behind a lot of the operating procedures that the villages have whenever you got a deserter or a general terrorist running through you territory. What I'm saying is, the guys from the major villages (meaning Sasori, Deidara, Obito, Kisame and Itachi) have probably known of Kakuzu just off the stories they read in the Academy/heard from older shinobi. I'm not mentioning the guys from minor villages because I am not giving them enough benefit of the doubt to have something like a decent system of education or ninja living past 30😁. I imagine that must be quite the bizarre experience to abandon your village, become a nukenin and meet the OG guy. Like, as OG as they get.

And one last thing I wanted to point out before moving onto the next generation of our fruity terrorist is how weird it must have been for Deidara to meet Kakuzu for the first time? I don't mention the other two from Akatsuki's kids aka Hidan about whom we don't know much about and Itachi who's relationship with old men in his life can be summarized by "they exploit me, I try to get the best things out of this🙂", but Deidara, being Onoki's student, in canon is shown to constantly refer to him as "old man" in various degrees of insultingness (insert a meme about 18 year old Kurotsuchi's broke "maybe you should retire, old man" vs 10 year old Deidara's woke "KILL YOURSELF OLD MAN" *some bridge in Iwa fucking explodes*) and like. He's like 13. And gets to meet Kakuzu. Who is like 85 at the time. Just imagine the experience that Deidara got. He's been hating the old man as long as he remembers, and then gets to meet THAT. Local teenager meets an actual dinosaur moment.

So know we get to the second generational group and it's by far the biggest one in this pretty small organization, and I like to title them "the ones that were born some time around the Second Shinobi World War and got completely fucked over by the Third one😁". This group, obviously, includes Konan and Nagato (both 40 in Shippuden), Sasori (35), Kisame (32) and Obito (yeah yeah I remember that he's been stated to be like 31, but for timeline purposes I prefer to have him at around 30, because otherwise like twenty events get funky). The Second Shinobi World War can only be approximately estimated, but given what little is known of about the characters involved in it, Ame orphans' year of birth is a pretty good estimate of a starting point for shit starting to go down, while Konoha suddenly started having a lot of kids right around the time of Kakashi's generation, meaning that their parents suddenly started having a lot of time to procreate and did not have to run across the border to beat shit out of someone else🤭Either that, or Konoha got the money to pay the shinobi for every kid they manage to pop in the next five years lol.

Anyway, the Third war followed pretty soon (around 18 years after Ame trio's birth, actually), and we certainly know that Obito got pulled into it (because of the, you know, the successful pancake challenge) with Konan and Nagato too, but on Ame's side (the Third War would actually be the best and prime time for the original Akatsuki led by Yahiko to operate, as they would be both old enough to organize something and be strong enough to maneuver between Hanzo and the external enemies aka Konoha, Iwa and Suna). With Sasori it isn't exactly confirmed straight away, but considering that his nickname is "Scorpion of Red SANDS", and when you are a nukenin why would you stay in the desert where there's a lot of sand it's coarse and it gets everywhere in your puppets (c), so most likely Sasori would have gotten this nickname while he was still living in the village, and mind you he was 15 when he left the village with the dead Third Kazekage in tow, all of which would have taken place right around the middle of the Third War, so it isn't much of a stretch to assume that he got a good chunk of murder experience during it.

Kisame is a weird one, because we don't know anything about his life until he's like, adultish? At least that's the vibe I'm getting off his pre-death memories, which are obviously way past the Third Shinobi World War, however, thankfully, Kishimoto can't fucking count, so we have a pretty decent confirmation that this wonderful thing called the Blood Mist would already be in place come Kisame's childhood and youth (regardless of how much Kishimoto repeats the Blood Mist = Fourth Mizukage = the mysterious entity controlling Yagura = the one and only Uchiha Obito. unless, of course, there's a Kamui+ subscription that Obito had when he was younger that allowed him to teleport back in time too, exclusively to be a bigger fucking bitch to everyone). I can't remember the exact calcs, but it's actually thanks to Mei (the Fifth Mizukage) that has a mention that she had to take the wonderful murder exam as a genin, and based off Mei's and Kisame's ages it actually becomes clear that Kisame would have had to graduate from Academy right around the time of Mei's exam or they were literally taking the same exam, something like that. Point being, even if we don't know for sure that Kisame took part in the TSWW, but we do know that he has had to deal with all of that mess related to growing up in Blood Mist🙂🙂🙂🙂So I guess we can call this generation "were born during the SSWW, most got royally fucked over by TSWW, but some of them also got fucked over by Blood Mist".

So these guys, I would say, can be characterised by them having a certain period of peace and purpose in their lifes that they ultimately lost during the subsequent wars, oftentimes suddenly, leaving them with psychological traumas for the rest of their lives that they WOULD make everyone's problem, so what ends up happening is a generation of deluloids that are running around with their grand plans of fixing the world or finding the ideal form of themselves. Ironically, I would say that Nagato and Konan have the most... er... realistic ideas regarding the whole "fixing" thing that others in their generation seem to have. Yes, the guys who say they are a God and an Angel. Because selective nuclear annihilation is a surprisingly effective way to dissuade most people from starting shit with each other😇🙏

Then we have Obito and Kisame both of whom worked for the whole Eye of the Moon thing... I'm not even gonna go in detail about it, it's just so fucking stupid. You listen to it one time and it really becomes apparent that this shit was concocted by a crazy old man with his ex's face on his tiddy and his dead little brother's eyes in his eye sockets that was living in a dank cave for about 50 years all alone. I mean, Obito got brain damage from going on a field trip to Kannabi bridge, I'm not surprised he though that was a good idea, but Kisame has no excuses, yeah, I know you've lived a horrible life that you took as a norm and suddenly all those deaths that you witnessed and contributed to turned out to be completely meaningless, just like pretty much your entire life, but that's not an excuse to listen to this masked dude's yapping about making a PowerPoint Presentation of his Sharingan on the surface of the fucking moon and go "Woah...😳🤩"

And finally we have Sasori, who's less bothered by doing the whole changing the world thing and moreso got his own idea of what an absolute ideal form is supposed to be, and he is going full murder hobo achieving it in his immediate surrondings. And it all stems from that time when his parents died after meeting Hatake Sakumo. Ah, speaking of that.

So back to the original topic of this post as in Akatsuki members are surprisingly chill with each other, regardless of the circumstances of their previous lives? Well, there's a thing with these guys that Kakuzu wouldn't have - a sort of developed sense of loyalty to the village and animosity or coldness to people from the enemy villages. Again, Kakuzu is older than the village system itself, and he would have left pretty early on (considering the whole fiasco seemed to have stemmed from that attempt on Hashirama's life, and Hashirama couldn't have lived past 20-25 years after Konoha's foundation), so he doesn't care for any of that, a guy with a bouty on his head goes into the retirement fund regardless of what headband he's wearing. But for kids that grew up in this system I think it would be at times pretty jarring to suddenly sit on the work meetings with someone they would have considered their mortal enemy just some years ago.

We don't know much about with whom in particular Sasori and Kisame were fighting while in the villages, but taking a look at the geography... I mean, Suna might have been going at it with both Iwa and Konoha lol? Imagine Pain asking Sasori what does he know of Iwa ninja, Sasori goes on to list all the squads he murder and dismembered back in the good old Third War days and then the boss hits him with "Yeah, yeah, anyway, we are getting you a new partner. It's a child from Iwa. He's now yours. Raise him and don't let him kill himself before he turns 18."

Or just Kisame and Sasori generally dealing with the existence of Konoha lmao? Obito's obviously not piping up about his origins, but I like the idea of Itachi getting interrogated on what he knows about Kakashi in particular (who is the son of the guy who killed Sasori's parents. and granny Chiyo went for his throat on fucking sight. not to mention her mass murdering grandsonny).

"Itachi, do you know this Hatake guy?"

"Er, yes, we served in ANBU together?.."

"Good. Tell me where he lives, at what time does he go to bed, what he eats for breakfast and how is he with his Sharingan."

Or just chatting with Kisame and the topic of Kakashi pops up

"Oh, I would love to fight him one day. Is he really that bloodthirsty and insane as they say?"

"Er, no, what gives?"

"He has been in Kirigakure's Bingo Book for years! Oh, and there was this one time when he massacred an entire squad on his own, ripping guts and all. Come to think of it, that was also about the time when we lost one of our biju. What a weird coincidence, huh."

"Oh yeah, I think I know that one. That was about the time when one of his teammates died too. What a weird coincidence, huh."

(somewhere in the corner Obito is furiously chewing on the wall)

Because Kishimoto is such an incredible writer that gives only his best when it comes to Obito, especially when he needs to write the conflict and relationships for a 30 year old guy and comes up with nothing but shit that concerned him when he was 14😁😁😁😁😁so he's stuck with nothing interesting for his entire Akatsuki life period, but I still think it's pretty funny that of all the people Obito could have gotten partnered with it had to be the only guy from the village that freed him of the burden of having a right side of the body🙏

But I think by far the most interesting ones would be Konan and Nagato as people of Amegakure, a village, as you remember, that kept getting run over by the major powers surronding it, I believe that in Nagato's flashbacks we even get the confirmation of the conflicts that Nagato personally had with Konoha and Iwa ninja (one for his parents' murder and another whenever Yahiko got in trouble as a kid). To them as part of the original militia Akatsuki the shinobi of the major villages (Iwa, Konoha, Suna in particular) are invaders and pretty much just enemies. But then obviously "Madara" pulls up and starts Uchihasplaining them how the world is wrong (duh) and how they must fix it. Obviously, following the change in management of the organization, they had to recruit new members, and while the official materials don't really have anything regarding this process (no, the videogames/light novels/whatever other bullshit produced by people not called Kishimoto Masashi don't count), I believe it's reasonable to assume that Obito, Nagato and Konan would at least sit down and chat about who they are bringing on their world-fixing-terroristic tour. And like. It must have been quite the experience to just sit there with this guy (who's supposedly one of the founders of the entire system they are currently living in) and get a bunch of candidates that they are supposed to invite even if just some time ago they would have been their enemies lol.

(and to be fair out of all the people that they have from the above mentioned villages two of them (Itachi and Deidara) were like 5 and 3 years old at the time Yahiko got killed, not to mention the whole TSWW, so I guess it would have been more weird to watch "Madara" turn their organization into a daycare rather than watch their headbands. but Sasori absolutely could have been to Ame back in his Suna days during the Third War. though again the nickname suggest that he was likely fighting a defensive war)

And, finally, we got what I like to call the kids generation meaning Hidan, Itachi and Deidara, all three of whom were born during the Third Shinobi World War, and, well, let's just that the defining feature of this group is just mental illness. Like, yeah, everyone's not okay in Akatsuki, but these guys? Fucked over since, like, toddlerhood. At least based on what limited information we have on them, with Itachi's extensive biography throught the plot it's obvious, Deidara was taken in at about the same age as Itachi did and was already on his manic pixie boy yapping about art with a "resume" so long that people three times his age would have trouble competing with the bullshit this young teenager already did. Hidan's the only one of three who was taken in as an adult, but... yeah... the whole cult and mass murder thing probably says nothing good about his childhood.

And just imagine being this young nukenin, only starting to become infamous for your crimes, and then you get dragged to join the organization with some of the strongest terrorists in modern shinobi history. I like to imagine there was this tiny sense of giddiness at achieving something like that? Like whenever a kid gets to do adult things, and there these guys are, on the same level as big shots. Well, at least for Deidara and Hidan, Itachi's too depressed and thinking of his foolish little brother. He can at least be happy that he's got the chillest guy as his partner.

(and on the other hand you got the rest of Akatsuki members confused why the fuck did the Leader get two 13 year olds in quick succession. like. yeah they good at mass murder but do we really have to raise them? is having ninja zoomers on the staff that important for the world domination plan?)

#naruto #jolt showa's ramblings #akatsuki #deidara #sasori #uchiha itachi #hoshigaki kisame #kakuzu #hidan #uchiha obito

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dsireland86 · 3 days ago

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Anonymous asked: What song do you think the guys would have their first dance to at their wedding including Matt please?

The First Song was posted to this request a few weeks ago, and as requested, I'm making a part 2 to it. Each song will have a short story behind it. Enjoy my wonderful Culties!

First Dance Part 2

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @Youlookforultraviolet @kenjipepsi1

Folio

It took a lot of convincing for you to finally agree to go on a date with Nick. He's goofiness and energy and energy is not easily tolerable all the time, but that's okay because you knew how to reel him in each time he went a little too far. You became his stability, his conscience, his beautiful day, his everything. So, when you got engaged and were planning the music with Noah, he asked if he could pick the first song you dance to. You'll admit, you were scared at first, thinking it was going to Metallica or something off the wall, but when that moment came, after you were officially Mr. And Mrs., and the beginning of the song came on, you immediately teared up. It was one of your favorite songs and you never realized how perfect it fit your life with him. Taking your hand, Folio led you out to the dance floor and even though neither one of you knew how to properly dance, it didn't stop you from falling in love with your husband even more.

Nicholas

When you and Nick fell in love was a mystery. It just kind of happened, and it continued to happen everyday. Five years in and you two still felt the same way about each other as when you first met. Nick had a way of wearing his feelings for you on his sleeve. He never did it with anyone else; just you. You'd tell him often that his feelings were always thinking too loud, to which he'd reply it was hard not to do it with you. You'd joke with him and say that eventually his feelings would change especially once you had kids, but that would never happen. It would only make him love and want you more. Your wedding day came and after the toast, the first dance. You took Nicholas' hand and led him to the spot set up for dancing and wrapped your arms around his neck while he found your waist and together, as close as possible, danced to the song that would forever be yours.

Noah

Being with Noah wasn't easy. You met at a time in his life when things weren't going the best for him mentally and at first you believed that the relationship wouldn't last. His attitude and behavior, his negativity and outlook sometimes got to be too much. But you stayed. Time and time again, over and over you stayed, refusing to give up on him. You loved him, despite all the hardships, because even though things got hard, Noah loved the hell out of you, he was crazy about you and the future you were building together, and you felt it every single day. When he asked you to marry him, you didn't even let him get the proposal out all the way before saying yes, making Noah the happiest he'd ever been. You asked him to choose the song for your first dance, confident he'd pick a good one. And he did. Dancing alone together after everyone had left, Noah softly sang the song to you as he held you close with your head pressed against his chest.

Jolly

When you and Jolly met, it wasn't under the best circumstance. There was tension and irritation involved, a high lack of tolerance from both sides. But as time went on, you noticed that Jolly had softened up to you just a little bit and eventually you began seeing him in a different light. He became sort of a beacon of safety in the midst of chaos and before you realized it, you had fallen for him, even though you were sure he didn't feel the same. But you promised yourself you'd wait for him, no matter how long it took; even if it never happened. Jolly was the one you'd ever want. It took a world rocking moment in Jolly's life for him to realize what you were to him; how you stayed by him and supported him through the worst, never questioning, never wavering. It was in those moments he knew he loved you. You and Jolly didn't have a reception after your wedding, instead choosing an intimate dinner with the Omen family. But once you were home, alone together, Jolly played this song for you as the two of you consummate your marriage.

Matt

Matt was anything but traditional when it came to your relationship. He never asked you out, but just started telling everyone that the two of you were together. You were his and he was yours and that was that. When you were alone he'd call you his lover and that's what you became to him; his lover with benefits. As time went on, the two of you became such a strong team together. You became a huge part in the way he worked and managed things behind the scenes for the band and other projects he did. But you needed him just as much. He was your voice when you were too scared to stick up for yourself, he was your protector from the assholes who tried to mess with you, but mostly, Matt was solid rock you anchored to, making everything that you couldn't figure out make sense. You both knew you were destined for one another, so it was no surprise when he took you to the clerk's office in town and you got your marriage license, keeping it a sacred secret between the two of you. And the very first and only time you ever saw Matt dance, was with you, a few days afterwards when he played this song for you while the two of you were working in the warehouse. To your surprise, Matt was a natural dancer and that was the day he swept you off your feet forever.

#bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noah sebastian #nick folio #nicholas ruffilo #jolly karlsson #matt dierkes #bad omens fanfiction #nick folio fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #jolly karlsson fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #matt dierkes fanfiction #Spotify

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thesleepyfable · 2 days ago

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~ SWTD: Still Here AU Season 2 Part 3: ~

A Dream? A Memory? Or Something Else:

Who wants a mystery, lore and character building? Well, here ya go.

TW: Car accident and blood.

With two more left hooks, Innes dropped his arms and leaned forward to catch his breath. Sweat dripping down his face, soaking his hair and sticking his clothes to his body.

'Not bad,' Caz praised. He lowered his arms, where he held a padded chair seat to act as a boxing bag. 'Did you box before?'

'I was in the military,' Innes gasped before forcing himself to stand. 'It's all part of the training. But, I was better than that.'

'Hey, if you sweat, then you're putting effort into it. You never said you served?'

'Well, I would have thought you'd done the math, Caz,' Innes joked. 'I had only just turned eighteen when I went to the nearest office to join. Old man didn't approve.'

'And what did he want you to do?'

'Fuck knows. Your daddy always wanted you to be a boxer?'

'Yep. But, I think he saw the money over my talent.'

'Right, well, three cheers for a shitty parent then, eh?'

'Maybe another time,' Caz chuckled. 'I'm gonna lay down for a bit.'

'Alright. Don't be late for Roy's fish and chips.'

'Never.'

Caz had noticed he couldn't sense one of the infected, but he didn't give it much thought. The farm was big. Muir was stuck to Innes like glue and had been watching from the side. Trots sat on the porch with Simon, Rennick, and Gibbo, who were all having coffee. That's when Caz spotted his children along with Addair's and Jack making snowmen. Out of the corner of his eye, just out of his reach, was Addair with, who Caz assumed to be Jennifer. He couldn't make out the features or body language, just their outlines. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, but Caz wasn't going to make it his business.

He wandered up to the house, passed Roy and Suze talking in front room with Irenw, up the stairs and into one of the beds to rest. Even if he could sleep like a log, Caz was feeling constantly tired these past few days. It's like all the built-up stress that kept his legs moving was suddenly gone, leaving him with tired eyes he had to battle. The rest he took in the attic did help to some degree, but it was now happening again. He hoped this wasn't going to be a common occurrence and was just because he had been drinking last night. He checked the clock. 11:44am.

'Just, an hour won't hurt...'

Caz had a strange dream. He was standing in a corner shop, looking over the endless shelves of sweets in their respective glass jars, nearly reaching the ceiling. A humming from the flickering light above accompanied the radio that sat besides the staff only door. It was cold. His breath was visible in the air. Beside him were the newspapers, separated by their publisher. Behind him, the door opened with a bell ring, and a teenager boy with blonde hair and a slim frame stepped inside. His bike leaned against the window. Caz saw a zebra crossing outside. The boy seemed to be in a hurry. Not acknowledging Caz, he dashed to the till.

'Can I get four bags of Jazzles, please?'

This didn't feel like a dream. It felt real to Caz. He couldn't describe it, but it didn't feel disorienting. Every texture on his jacket he touched felt real. The chill in the air caused him to shiver and have his hair stand on end. Nothing felt surreal, and he could think straight rather than being on co-pilot. He had full control of his body and thoughts. The only thing that reminded Caz this was a dream was the boy and shopkeeper. They didn't notice him.

'That'll be twenty pence.'

'Thanks.'

Caz knew the boy wasn't him. This wasn't a memory from his youth. He was never originally blonde, and the boy's strong cockney accent gave that away.

'Seya.' The boy dashed back outside and onto his bike. Caz watched. The shopkeeper didn't acknowledge him. Caz turned away. Then he heard the screeching of tires and a loud thudding sound of metal hitting each other. Caz froze. His face went pale. His eyes widened. The shopkeeper gasped in horror and ran outside. Another chill ran down his spine.

Slowly, Caz turned and saw the boy and the pool of blood that stained his hair. Then it went dark, and the room began to spin. The beeping of a heart monitor echoed off the walls, and a woman screamed a name. Tommy.

Caz rolled out of the bed with a thud. The piercing wails startled him awake. He checked the clock on the wall. 14:19pm. Cait stood over him with a worried look in her eye. Caz frowned. 'You alright?' She didn't answer. Her eyes flicked to the door. Her shoulders were tense, and she bit her lip. 'Cait? Cait, what's wrong? Is it Maidie?' Caz clumsily got to his feet and slipped on his boots. 'Has she tripped?'

'Mr. Addair's gone.'

'What?'

'No one can find him,' Cait explained in a panic voice that was feeding into Caz with the slow rising panic he felt in his chest. 'Mr. Muir has checked the fields, and Mr. Gibbo went into the highlands, but no one...'

Caz slammed the front door open, jumped the porch stairs, and marched outside. He was furious. 'How in the actual, living fuck did we all manage to lose him?!'

'I'm not his fuckin' babysitter, Caz,' Innes snapped back.

'That's not the point. We're all in this together, and in the span of a few hours, he's gone?'

'Apparently,' Rennick sighed. 'I've not seen his missus or his children, either.'

'They went back to London,' Trots answered. 'Left about two hours ago.'

'And Addair was still here at the time?'

'Yeah. He waved them off with a few of us. Obviously, he wasn't happy about it and she seemed to be a hurry...' Trots slowly trailed off with a slow realisation that everyone pieced together. He covered his mouth with a hand. They all turned to the long driveway. The snow had been disturbed, but the prints were from this morning, so no one gave it much thought. A good cover if you were going to sneak away.

'Fuck.'

#My Writing #Still Wakes the Deep #Still Wakes the Deep: Still Here AU

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knockyasocksoff2022 · 1 day ago

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Ideal No. 15

(7,119 words)

(A/N: Is this the longest chapter yet? LMAO, eat up! I had it mostly done before now, so IDK why it took me so long, if I didn't procrastinate, the total writing time was like three days, maybe. Plot bunnies are bitches, I guess. The moral of the story is: yell at me more in the comments! Only one or two more chapters to go!)

Thanks once again to @fyodorsushankaaa for all the encouragement!

He looks like a scared puppy, readying to bolt. I have to act fast.

It's impulsive, I know, but I'm not sure what else I can do, so I grab his bloodied hand. He flinches, hard, but I don't let go. I can't, too scared he'll slip away again.

"Dazai, you're hurt." Well, that much is obvious. I mentally scold myself. "What happened?"

He probably won't tell me if it's self-inflicted or not, but I need to know what sort of injury it is at least. The blood is spreading in a pattern that suggests a wound less controlled than razor lines. And Dazai doesn't cut himself, as far as I know. He kills himself with neglect.

He opens his mouth, then closes it, then again, then once more. Then he jolts up, trying to twist away. He makes a sound of pain so startling that surprise makes me let go when it should be my instinct to grip him tighter.

Without the support of my arms, he tumbles out of the booth. I rush to help him.

"I'm okay. I'm just a bit out of it because of the weather change, is all." His voice is raspy. He isn't even trying to fool me anymore. I won't complain. His admitting that something at all is wrong is a start.

I'll just do what I always do. Go along with it.

"If you were under the weather you should have let someone know."

"'M fine."

Suppressing a sigh, I try a different tactic. "It only causes everyone more trouble if you wait until you can't stand."

His wince makes me regret the words, but I have to say something to make him see sense.

"I-I'm sorry."

What does he have to be sorry for? I don't have time for that at the moment. He needs medical attention, but knowing him he won't let me bring him anywhere near a hospital. "I hardly care about that now. Come on, I'm going to take you back to the office. Yosano-sensei will treat you."

"No!"

He's hyperventilating, the first sign of a panic attack. Okay. I have to calm him down. What would calm him down?

Jokes!

"Dazai, your bandages are yellow. I will not allow you to let your writing hand rot off simply because you don't want to do paperwork. How am I to get you to do work, then?"

It doesn't work. Or, well, it does, but not the way I intended. He stops hyperventilating but then lapses into silence. "Sorry." He wilts.

We both sit awkwardly on the floor for a moment considering the situation. He has been eating more, lunch at least, but I can tell I'll still be able to lift him, easily. It scares me a bit, but I'm grateful for it now. It is easier to focus on his alarmingly skinny stature than the fact that he is, practically, in my lap.

His quiet voice comes from beside me, "T-the food . . ."

I don't want to ask him to speak up, but he's so quiet and his words are so slurred that I really am having trouble hearing him.

"I'm sorry?"

"The food, we shouldn't waste."

I want to shake him. That's what you care about? But I'm afraid he'll break.

"Of course, let me, uh, just."

He tries to leap away, I think, from my lap, but he just ends up rolling to the side a bit, his hand twisting further.

I hurry to the counter, give our order number, and inform her of the mess we made.

"Yes, it's almost done. Don't worry about the tea. It happens a lot. We'll be happy to pack your food in takeaway boxes for you, sir. But, may I ask why you're leaving so soon? Your order was marked as dine-in, was that incorrect? Was your experience not okay?"

The woman is so sweet, but what do I tell her? No, you're restaurant is lovely my colleague is just a bit suicidal. "Oh, it was fine, ma'am. . . . My partner is just feeling a bit under the weather."

She coos, glancing worriedly behind me, probably at Dazai, who must still be lying on the floor. "Oh my, I see. The noodles should help then. I hope he feels better soon. You two boys take care."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Dazai is indeed still on the floor. I look at him for a moment. There's no way he'll be able to stand long enough to get to the car. Given his state, what would be the most efficient and most dignified way (for both of us) to pick him up?

After looking at his tender hand hanging limply, I go with the cradle carry.

(A/N: The cradle carry is more commonly known as the Bridal or Princess carry, lmao)

"I'm going to pick you up, is that alright?"

He blinks, taking a moment to comprehend the words. He must be more ill than I thought. But, to my relief, he nods.

He's warm in my arms. Not like the warmth of a lover, but feverish warmth.

"Keep these steady, Dazai," I say just to break the silence.

He nods, not objecting to my using him as a shelf for the noodles. In fact, he crunches them as if they're far more important than tea-house takeaway.

The walk to the car feels long and short at the same time. Dazai isn't heavy, not at all, but I'm so worried I'll drop him.

As I lay him across the backseat, he grabs my arm. "No . . . Yosano."

"Dazai, you need a doctor."

He doesn't seem to get it.

"Please."

It's his eyes that get me. They're wide and round with innocence and fear, like a child's, like a stray cat's. He reminds me so much of Yozo that I can't possibly ignore his request. It would feel like abuse.

"Okay. I'll take you to my house, but you're getting first aid either way. I'm not going to watch whatever injury you have fester. Understand?"

The drive takes a bit longer because I'm so careful not to go too fast or hit the brakes too hard. I even avoid steep downhills, given that he wears no safety belt.

He sits up as soon as I park, indicating that he was not asleep as I'd hoped. I shouldn't let my disappointment show. I don't need him apologising for I don't know what, again. So while I fix my face, I carry the noodles in.

Of course, Yozoz makes her escape as I open the door. It made me a bit sad to see her go, but then I knew she'd have to leave eventually, and with the noodles in my hands I was in no position to stop her.

They fit nicely in my mostly empty fridge. I haven't had much time to shop due to my extended hours. This is not ideal at all.

I'm also lacking in bandages. I have plenty for Dazai's wound, but I have no doubt that the ones he wears like a bodysuit need changing and I don't have enough. I never thought he'd be here, at my residence. Oh . . . what am I doing? I'll need to order groceries.

Mourning Yozo's absence, but with new determination, I step outside.

To my surprise, the cat hasn't gone far. She paws at my car door, jumping up to the window. The relief I feel is more than should be warranted, considering she's a feral cat, but I feel it anyway.

"Move, Yozo. I need to open the door."

I don't expect her to, but she obeys. Trotting curiously to the left.

Dazai is even more out of it than before. He's like a child when they somehow make themselves heavier, only it's hardly his fault. Yozo watches me curiously as I carefully handle my colleague. She trails my steps, fascinated by the newcomer.

Once inside, I lay dazai on the counter and wash my hands at the sink. I have to swat soapy water at Yozo to prevent her from licking Dazai's wounded hand. She yowls in response. It's interesting how she acts with him as if he's a fellow cat in danger, not a human. Or maybe she thinks she's human too.

I want to start with the first aid right away, better while he's out of it, but his bandages are the one part of his body he keeps off-limits and I would never cross such a personal boundary.

I'll have to wake him, but I can wait a bit longer.

This is where preparedness comes in handy. I have an ear thermometer I bought but have never used. I take it out now, rubbing it with an alcohol swab and sticking it in Dazai's ear. He twitches but makes no move to stop me.

The device beeps, flashing a yellow 39 C. Not Ideal, but not life-threatening.

Hmm, another dilemma. Medication will help his fever and pain, but he hasn't eaten yet. There's no way anything is making it to his stomach right now, so medication will have to wait.

"Dazai, wake up."

" . . . 'nikida?"

"Yes. How do you feel."

He just shakes his head.

"You're running a mid-grade fever, so that's probably why you feel so poorly. Now, I need to take your bandages off to get to your hand-" He shakes his head before I finish, I can feel him trembling. I'm not sure how much of it is chills and how much is fear at the prospect of revealing what's underneath that he keeps so carefully hidden. "Please, Dazai, your wound is infected. It needs treatment. I won't go above the elbow, I promise. I swear on my Ideals."

He stops trembling, stilling completely, as stiff as a board.

"It's okay?"

An almost imperceptible nod.

There's disposable plastic on the counter, my sleeves are rolled, my hands are washed and protected by latex gloves, and I have everything I could possibly need save for surgical tools, and yet, I don't feel ready. But when am I ready for Dazai Osamu? Since when does it matter if I am or not? I just have to do it.

The bandages are wrapped so tight his hand must be purple underneath. I take the miniature scissors from the kit and begin cutting. The bandages come loose, but I have to peel them away from each other.

"Fuck me." I try not to swear, but the deeper I go, the tighter they're stuck with blood, plasma, and other bodily fluids that result from the inner layers of skin being exposed to the outside world. The bottom most bandages are closer to brown than white.

"M' trying."

"What?" What did he just say? He didn't mean- surely not . . .

"Said m' trying to fuck you, kun-i-ki-da~" His voice is strained with pain and slurred with fever.

Wh- Oh. He's delirious. Of course. As much as the returns of his clownery relive me, this is NOT what I had in mind.

"I'd do it so well, Kuni-kun."

Suddenly I feel as if I'm the one with the fever, the what creeping into my face, hands sweaty.

"Please, go to sleep, Dazai. You're not well."

"That's what the lady at the cafe said too."

"I'm sure."

I focus all my energy on tuning him out. Thankfully there's no smell, which means the infection isn't too bad. I sigh.

On the last layer, I hesitate. The bandages are still opaque enough that I can't see the skin underneath.

Dazai's other hand raises up in a sloppy thumbs up, then falls back down. He's exhausted, but I'm glad for his approval, and that he seems to be back to his silly persona.

I took a formal first aid course in High School, so the rest of the process will be easy, the most tedious part is cleaning until the water runs clear instead of red.

The skin is blistered, if he does have any self-harm scars, I can't see them. I'm not sure if that's a good thing. Some of the blisters have burst but the skin is still pink, not charred or brown. This looks to be a superficial 2nd-degree burn. Thankfully these can be treated at home.

Because this isn't exactly a fresh wound it isn't bleeding and I don't need to cool the burn, since it's at least a day old, which is good because it means I can treat it with less delay.

Given that the wound was covered, I suspect that the infection came mainly from not cooling the wound properly or allowing it to breathe, and the lack of antibiotic ointment, and choking his circulation did no favours. Scolding him would do nothing.

Once the wound is clean, I apply antibiotic cream and begin dressing it. Dazai doesn't flinch, he must be out.

I lean down, examining my work. I almost wish I hadn't done it. A cool bath would've helped his fever and the sweating, but now I don't want to wet the dressing, and he'd never allow anyone to see what's underneath his bandages. (Even if I thought I could handle him naked. As unprofessional as that sounds, I know my limitations.) With all the weeping, perhaps I should change it anyway. I have doubt that he'll do it himself even if he's capable.

I bin my gloves and the plastic sheet and wash my hands perhaps a little harder than necessary.

His fever isn't sustainable either, but I'll let him sleep for now, just to recover from the shock of it all.

Still, he can't sleep on my counter. I lift him as carefully as possible, he doesn't stir. I tell myself not to worry as I set him down on the sofa.

Yozoz climbs my leg, jumping onto Dazai's limp form.

"Off!" I whisper, but she doesn't move.

I have a spare bedroom, but I'm not putting him there until he's had a bath and some fresh clothes. I'll do that as soon as I can.

His face isn't relaxed as he sleeps, he frowns, his nose and eyebrows scrunched, still, I can't deny that he's handsome. And cute with Yozoz lying protectively on his chest, letting him use her to elevate his hand.

He twitches and shifts uncomfortably. He'll need pain medication soon, which means he'll need to eat.

Instead of staring at him, I need to order groceries . . . And I need to call in.

How do I even explain this? Better yet, how do I explain this without betraying Dazai's trust and alerting Yosano-sensei to the fact that he's injured?

I mean, do I even need to? He cuts work all the time . . . or he used to. Yeah, I'd better call.

I swear for the second time today and dial the president directly.

"Fukuzawa-sensei, this is Kunikida."

"Yes, Kunikida, what do you need?"

"Nothing. I was just calling to inform you that Dazai and I are on a private case and we won't be back for a couple of days. You can cut the time from my pay if you like. But I just wanted you to know that nothing is wrong, no one needs to come looking for us."

"Ah, I see. Did you pick up this case during lunch? Will you be reachable in the case of an emergency?"

I look at Dazai. I can't leave him, not like this. "Yes . . . and no."

"Are you out of the city?"

"No."

"Alright. Seeing as your paperwork is complete. I will bother you no longer. But please do call again if you two plan to be on the case for more than a week."

"Of course, sir."

He hangs up. I rest in relief for a moment. Now that that's cleared up there's the matter of my almost empty refrigerator.

Dazai wakes at the sound of the groceries being delivered.

"Huh? Kunikida?"

"I ordered groceries."

I don't think he understands me very well, but I'll only be going to the door, so I don't worry.

Yozoz hisses at the delivery man. I nudge her back, and she gives one final look of utter disapproval before retreating. I tip the man and take the bags inside.

When I come back Dazai has gotten into a halfway upright position, using his uninjured hand to pet Yozo.

"Be careful." The warning is a habit at this point.

"When did Kunikida-kun get a cat?"

I don't let his use of the third person worry me, it wasn't uncommon for him a few months ago."Recently. She was a stray."

"My, how charitable!"

I have to remind myself not to be relieved. He's only acting this way because of the fever.

"Helping the less fortunate when I can is in my Ideals. And right now, that includes you, Dazai."

He gasps theatrically, "Me?"

"Yes, you. You have a fever. You need to take medication. It'll help with the pain as well, but you need to eat first. Now come on."

"My, who knew the prime minister of meeting procedure land would make such a good doctor, and handsome too~"

I can't deal with this right now, him saying all these things. They say fevers make you honest, but he's clearly spouting, pardon me, utter bullshit. "Yes, first aid training is quite useful."

He frowns at my lack of reaction.

I set the groceries on the counter, and go to help him.

"Ahh, I'm so weak Kunikida-kun! I couldn't possibly move! Carry me!"

Ugh. Now that he's more alert, carrying him feels less like a medical necessity and more awkward, without the adrenaline from seeing him so hurt, but I'd take this over him sobbing on the floor any day.

I must admit I've had daydreams about having him in my arms before, but never like this.

He won't be able to handle chopsticks, so it'll have to be broth. I can make a simple one in under thirty minutes. As soon as I finish stocking the refrigerator and cupboards, I turn to find Dazai sitting at the counter. His newly dressed hand is splayed out on the countertop. He lifts it, flexing his finger. He makes no sound, but I've known him long enough to see that he's in pain.

He abhors pain. It doesn't make sense. This must not have been part of a suicide attempt. He'd never do something as painful as burning or boiling alive, so how did it happen?

I don't look at him, not wanting to invade at the moment. Instead, I focus on readying the ingredients for the broth, falling into the rhythm of chopping vegetables.

"How are you feeling? Does it hurt?" I ask, still not looking. If it were anyone else I wouldn't count on a coherent answer, and I don't with Dazai, not really. He would never admit the extent of his pain, but I know he's aware, at least. This man is a cockroach. He's come to work with temperatures like this and higher before and none of us noticed until he passed out dramatically on the sofa.

"It's fine."

"It is" not "I am". A clear lie.

He's as stubborn as an ox, more stubborn than I myself can be at times. I have no choice but to go along. I place the vegetables in the pan with the stock and set the temperature. "Good. You have to eat before you take medication. The broth should be done soon."

He goes silent for a moment, then, "Mmm, Kunikida is so kind, getting all worked up over nothing." His words are soft, a gentle smile, almost . . . reassuring. His voice sends a wave of warmth down my spine.

Still, the sudden return of his demureness is a bit surprising.

"This is not nothing."

"Well you could have simply taken me to hospital, it wasn't necessary to bring me all the way to your home. I'm sure I've caused quite a hassle. I'm not sure how I can repay you for all of this."

"You mentioned before that you dislike hospitals, so I thought-"

"It hardly matters. There was no need for you to trouble yourself, I feel guilty now."

"Don't, you're my partner, it was no trouble at all." The words feel forbidden. It's immature, but my feelings make calling him my partner feel more meaningful than it should. He's so observant, can he see my guilt? Hear my heartbeat?

"That's impossible. I wish I hadn't troubled you at all." He looks down as he says it, picking the his new bandages. He sounds genuine, bitter and upset. Like many of today's events, it doesn't make sense. After all he's done to pester me so far, how can he feel so guilty for this? Or is it something else? Is this for all he's done in the past? That would be ridiculous, but somehow I believe it. Nothing he ever did was that horrible, it's all forgiven now.

"Dazai . . ." I don't know what I should say, what I could say. He doesn't look up anyway.

"I won't trouble you anymore, Kunikida-san." It sounds so . . . final.

"Dazai, it wasn't-"

He's standing before I can stop him. I want to reach out to him, to stop him, but I know I shouldn't touch him much more, I doubt his aversion to contact has changed. Even with all his external polish and warmth, all those smiles, something frozen still resides within him, I know it. At times, I can feel its cold, like a gust of shivering wind, sudden, shocking . . . then gone.

And yet I find myself moving ever closer. Something deep in my gut knows I can't let him leave. I feel that if I do I may never see him again.

He sways, and sways and sways, and then . . . tips.

This time, though, I'm here to catch him. Again, he's too warm in my arms.

"Dazai, stop! You're in no condition to go anywhere. Please, sit, . . . stay. At least until you take medication. Then you can go as you please. But as your partner, it would be an abdication of my duties to allow anything to happen to you." There's that word again. Partner.

He whispers so softly, that I swear I mishear him, but it's quiet enough that I'm sure I don't. "Partner." Then he looks up. "Abdication, such a big word." The words are thoughtful, yet careless. He looks dazed. "Of course, you're just doing your job. Fine, but at least let me pay you."

Is he out of his damn mind? "P-pay me, what, you-?!" No. I can't lose my cool now. This isn't an office shenanigan. But then again . . . perhaps my scolding will be as grounding to him as his clownery is to me (am I the delirious one?)

"This is a favour, you will do no such thing. Now, stop talking nonsense!" I can't make myself call him an idiot, he still looks too fragile for that.

It seems to work, to my relief, he backs down. "Sorry." I don't like the bashful tone, but if it means he'll let me care for him without fighting, I'll take what I can get.

We sit, once again, in silence.

I'm relieved when the broth is done, busying myself with readying the bowl and placing it in front of him.

When I set it down, he looks at me for a long moment, then says a quiet "Thank you." and takes the spoon.

His hand shakes a little.

Right. I was so distracted by his attitude that I forgot a spoon might still be hard for him. What to do? For once, I don't know, there is nothing in my Ideals that tells me how to deal with an injured, delirious, Dazai Osamu in my kitchen.

"W-would you like some help?"

He looks up with wide eyes. Neither of us says anything.

A moment passes, and I can't bear to wait, so I take the spoon from his shaky hand.

He opens his mouth wordlessly and closes it the same.

We repeat the process, still silent, working like a machine, efficient. Both of us, I'm sure, are trying to distance ourselves from the reality of what we are doing. Before I know it the bowl is down to the dregs of vegetables.

Dazai nods once. "Your soup is very delicious, Kunikida-san."

"Thank you." The phrase is brief, almost curt, but I don't know how else to respond. My brain won't form words appropriate for this situation. I turn away, typing the last drops of broth into the plastic bowl the vet sent home for Yozo.

She laps eagerly, while I prepare the correct dosage of medication.

Dazai takes it without a hint of disgust, handing the cup back to me, then pushes himself up. It's too fast and he wobbles. I reach out but then retract my hands. He's not my charge, he's a grown man. He's fine. And he dislikes being touched.

I can't stand to see him go. Who knew I could be so selfish?

"Dazai, wait."

He halts but doesn't turn. His shoulders are tense. I shouldn't keep him longer.

"Just wait a bit. I will call you a taxi cab once the medication takes effect. Just for an hour, rest . . . please."

He turns so slowly I'm worried he's dizzy again, but he seems perfectly steady when he faces me. Then again, he seemed fine until he collapsed in the tea house.

"Alright. Where would you like me to sit?"

Anywhere.

"Wherever you feel most comfortable."

He nods, clearly uncomfortable again. Guilt makes my chest ache, I should let him go. He's made it this far. I'm sure he can handle himself.

"The sofa will be more than fine."

"Okay," I have to leave, I should. I have no business hovering like we're anything more than colleagues. "I'll be in the kitchen, cleaning, if you need anything at all."

"Don't worry. I won't."

I can't make myself stay away.

So here I sit, mere inches away from Dazai. He fell asleep almost as soon as he sat down, despite his insurance on feeling fine.

His breathing is even, but I can see him shivering against the fever. I leave him for a moment, just to get him a blanket.

When I put it over him he still for a moment, then rolls over, still fully asleep and pulls it tight around himself. The trembling stops, and I breathe a sigh of relief. He'll be alright.

But I won't.

Watching him like this feels wrong, a guilty pleasure. This was never meant for me to see. I feel like a pervert, even though watching him like this brings no sexual pleasure, only a warmth in my chest.

I can only stare as his chest rises and falls. His hair fans out over my pillows making them look like they don't belong here, no, not that. They, and he look like they belong, but under his head, they look like something novel even when I've had them for years.

After many hours of fitful tossing and turning, he really stirs. And I've done nothing but watch him this whole time. How much working time have I lost? And why does it not seem to matter at all?

I don't think he meant to sleep so long. It's dark out now, and he'll surely need more medication if he even wishes to attempt a full night's sleep.

I jump up when he twitches, hurrying away, lest he think my intentions are anything other than platonic.

"Kunikida?" He calls out.

"Yes, Dazai," I answer, strolling in like I didn't just bolt from the room. How many times have I lied in the past day?

"Thank you very much for letting me stay, and for the food, both here and at the tea house. You can keep my noodles. I'll catch a cab now."

He's up, standing on shaky legs before I can stop him.

"What?" The words fall out, clumsy and desperate. I hope he doesn't hear it.

He looks at me, appropriately confused. "Did I leave something, Kunikida-kun?"

My saving grace. The one thing I actually did besides watching him sleep."Your coat, it's in the dryer. There was some blood on the cuff, so I washed it." The perfectly reasonable explanation feels awkward.

"Oh, thank you again." He sounds so grateful it makes me uncomfortable.

"Please, don't thank me. You aren't troubling me. Your coat should be done in just a few minutes." I want him to stay longer, "Would you mind if I checked your bandages until then, I heard you tossing in your sleep." A small lie.

"I'm yours."

We both freeze.

"I-I'm sorry?" I sound like I'm choking.

His cheeks reddened, embarrassed that I made something out of that, no doubt. Especially when I've probably said similar things in reference to our partnership.

"I simply meant that you are the expert and are free to do what you want, er, need to."

"Ah, yes."

What do I do now?

Neither of us moves for a moment, like when you get stuck trying to pass someone in a door or corridor and do an awkward little dance. I don't want him to pass me. I don't want him to go.

Then he moves, walking to the counter, and placing his arm on it. I follow him, busying myself with readying the plastic sheeting.

He's in the same position when I come back, but lifts his arm and allows me to put the small section of sheeting under it.

I examine the bandages. I was right. As much as this is to keep him here, they do need changing. The wound is still weeping a lot.

"I'll need to clean and change it again," I tell him, but I think he may have guessed based on the way he eyes his arm.

The experience is completely different now that he's coherent. But he doesn't fight me on the removal of the bandages, I watch his face, his beautiful face, and on cue, he gives his silent permission.

He doesn't flinch as I unwrap it, eyes scanning the wound analytically.

He leans in, so close that I would barely have to lean down to kiss him. I'd never, of course, I could never. But the thought is very much there.

"I have seen far worse, usually I was the cause." He explains.

Right, the mafia.

Here, in this house, I could forget. But, I realise suddenly, that it doesn't matter at all, not when it comes to him.

The process goes so much more quickly this time. I hate that I wish it didn't, but before I know it, my hands are on autopilot, and he's in fresh bandages . . . and ready to go.

Where's he going to go? Surely not the agency dormitories? He doesn't want anyone to know he's injured. Or will he just hole up inside? Or does he have somewhere else? A street corner? I shiver at the thought.

He needs another dosage of medications since it's been so long. He must be in pain, but if he's driving, he should wait to take it until he gets back. I still don't trust him with a whole bottle. But I can send him with enough to get him through the night until tomorrow morning when I see him again. I'd best pick him up and take him here in the morning. Someone might see me and know I lied if I stay too long, and his dormitory isn't exactly sterile. (Maybe he's cleaned it? I've only seen it in glimpses.)

"You should take another dose of medication in about an hour. I'll send you home with a pill, you can pick up another one tomorrow when I change your bandages. It helps with the pain as well. Actually, I should take your temperature before you go. If you're still feverish, I'll drive you."

He nods, then cocks his head. "Come here? I appreciate it, but won't we be at the agency?"

Right, he doesn't know.

I told the President that we'd be out for a couple of days, just because I'd be in charge of caring for the wound since Dazai refused to go to a hospital or Yosano, but maybe that's changed now that he's not feverish.

"I was under the impression that you wanted the injury hidden. You told me you didn't want to go to the hospital or to Yosano, so I told the President that we were out on a case. He won't expect us back." It feels shameful and stupid as I say it now, but I press on. He needs to know. "I was actually wondering where you were going. You can't exactly go to the dorms, and I'd prefer to change your bandages here where I have my supplies . . . Or, of course, I could tell him we finish early if you would rather!"

He's just standing there, frozen. I can't read him.

After a while he says quietly, "You lied to the president?" The words are shocking. Of course, they are, I'm the last person one would expect to do that, I know.

"You seemed highly uncomfortable at the thought of anyone knowing so I . . . I just did."

He looks down. Even without a fever, I can see he still feels that way. "No, no, I won't make you lie further. I'll find a place to stay. An old mafia safe house should do just fine."

"Oh, Dazai, I didn't mean to-"

"You've done so much. I am fine now. I don't need luxury, just a quiet place to sleep." He looks pale.

He's not fine.

And I'm still not ready for him to leave, not ready to be alone with my thoughts.

He sits like a dutiful patient while I fetch his freshly dry coat. I'm not so deceitful as to wet it again.

He takes it, standing up once again.

"Let's do this again sometime, eh, Kunikida-kun?" The statement carries just a trace of his previous humour. His eyes are far away, the deep brown irises glassy.

Just as he reaches the door, I remember. I didn't take his temperature! Or give him the pills! I grab his wrist. He whirls around, startled, looking again like a caught animal. I wish he wouldn't, but I have to admit, what I'm doing is quite creepy.

"Wait. I need to make sure your temperature is down before you go. I don't want someone kidnapping you, eh?" The joke, like most of mine, falls flat.

Something sparks in his eyes . . . and then they go cold.

"Kunikida-san, I understand that you're just doing your job . . . but last I checked it's not your job to stop me from killing myself. Don't pretend to care so much, I am not your poor little charity case!"

Killing- who said anything about suicide? Is he planning to- Now? After he's done all this? Well, now there's no way I can let him go!

It looks like he's also realised his mistake. His eyes are stuck between wide open and narrowed to slits, it's odd. I take advantage of it.

"Dazai, please. I just wish to help."

He says nothing, to my relief, no sour words about my ideals, or my having a saviour complex. (I don't. I'm just ever so foolishly in love.)

I'm afraid that if I step away to get the thermometer, he'll run, so instead, I step forward, placing my hand under his fringe. The contact sends a spark through me, and it occurs to me that I've never really touched him before, a brush of the hand, maybe, and of course carrying him, but never this. He's still warm. Of course, he is. In my haste, I overlooked something important.

I learnt very quickly of Dazai Osamu's inhuman metabolism. It's how he processes all the junk food and alcohol so quickly. The medication must have worn off at least an hour ago. Has he been in pain all this time?

Oh, damn me!

"Dazai, I'm so sorry."

He doesn't look like he's heard me. He sways again . . . and then he's in my arms.

He weighs almost nothing against me, but I can't worry about that now.

"You know, Kunikida-kun?" he mumbles into my chest, "I think I'm still a bit tired from the medication. Maybe I will stay."

"Why did you not tell me?" But the question is more for myself. I know why.

I'm a task-oriented person. I need goals or I'll fall apart, I know this. So I make a list.

Check his temperature.

Make him eat something (somehow).

Give medication.

Attempt a cool bath.

Fresh clothes.

Sleep.

He's completely out. I can feel his breathing, slow and shallow.

Taking his temperature is easy, getting him medicated won't be. I ought to try a cool bath first before he can protest. It will help the most before the medication kicks in. I hate to cross his boundaries like that . . . then again, he seemed to give me permission when he agreed to stay.

Fortunately, I don't have to decide. He wakes when I move him, his breathing shifting into quick gasps. I want to tell him he's okay, but what use would that have?

"I'm going to give you a cool bath. You can keep your undershirt and pants on, but I need to get your temperature down, alright?"

He nods.

Thankfully, this bathroom was designed with two people in mind, so there's plenty of room for him on the counter. He mutters something that includes my name and the words "undress me". I think he's trying to be cheeky, but it falls flatter than any of my jokes ever have.

Getting into the bathtub is easy. He weighs much less than he should. I prop him up, but with the way he flops to the side, like a fish, I can't possibly leave him. He'll drown.

What to do, what to do? I can stay with him a bit, but I need to make more broth so he can take more pills. I'll think about it.

"Hey, you're just going to soak in here for a bit, so your body can cool down. May I wash your hair?" He's sweaty, so I may as well.

He nods, so I do.

The process is like nothing I've ever done. He "hmms" softly and I can feel him slipping into sleep under my touch. I thought that seeing him undressed (or in this case in just his pants) would be hard for me, but it isn't. All I can feel is concern, not pity, I don't see him as below me or anything, he remains my equal and as handsome as ever, but right now he just needs to be taken care of. He is not riddled with scars as I'd thought, but there is one, a large gash along his chest and other various small ones. It's hard to see them, though. In reality, the scars are perfectly visible, but when I look at him I don't see them, just those warm brown eyes.

The bath is working, and he feels much less hot than before. He's more alert as well. If he just stays in a bit longer he might return to a normal temperature, at least temporarily which would help until I can get medication in him, but I still have to cook . . .

"Okay. Here's a towel, you have to get out now."

He shakes his head, confused as if just having woken up. Did he really go to sleep just like that? He used to complain of insomnia. How ill is he?

"Don't wanna." His tone isn't clownish, but tired, so very tired.

"Dazai, I can't- you're not in a complete state of mind, you could hurt yourself."

"What if you could make sure I didn't?"

What's he got up his sleeves now? I make my scepticism clear on my face. "Perhaps, what do you have in mind?"

"I could sing to you . . . like in that movie with the little girl who's really an adult."

"What?" I'm not even going to ask.

"Like this" He hums a note, then another. I don't recognise the melody, but it's pretty.

"Fine. But If you stop, I will come right back in here, so don't try anything."

"Got it, Kunikida-san."

True to his word, he keeps humming as I start in the kitchen. The song is very nice. I'll have to ask him what it is when he feels better.

The broth, a slightly different recipe, to keep things interesting, finishes quickly. All that's left is for it to cool to an edible temperature, and to get Dazai into some clothes.

I'm only 8 centimetres taller than Dazai, so my clothes should fit him well enough. I pull out a pyjama set from the back of my drawer, it was a gag gift from Katai when I went to university, with a little nightcap and all. I leave the cap and take the folded set into the bathroom.

He looks so soft in the matching top and bottom that I can do nothing but stare. He sneezes, snapping me out of the trace. Right, his hair is still a bit wet. The last thing he needs is a cold.

He manages to stand, albeit with most of his weight on me, and follows me to the kitchen.

"Why are you doing this?" He asks as I set down the spoon. I helped him again. He didn't ask me to, even as a joke, and I wasn't sure he would if I didn't just- so I just did it . . . It would appear that, in some way, somehow I'm in this even deeper than I thought.

What can I say? Oh, I could say so much. What can I say that would be professionally acceptable?

"It's my job." AH, if there was an award for shit answers.

He sighs, "AH, right, duty-bound Kunikida-kun. Poor thing." The words are teasing, but I know him better than that.

He makes himself at home in the spare bedroom, out practically as soon as his head hits the pillow. When was the last time he slept in a real bed?

What do I do now? It's not that late, so I can't go to bed, but I can't go back to work, and there's now ay I'd let myself leave. I can't think of anything, so, as always, I stay.

He looks so peaceful, his breathing even, face relaxed. I gave him twice the normal dosage of medication.

Despite his apparent calm I can't help thinking that he should be in my bed. I want to hold him, to keep him warm and safe. I want him to know someone needs him, someone wants him. At first, I wasn't sure this new him even needed that anymore, but his behaviour today . . . I want to wake up and see his smile, a real one. I want to be the reason for it. I want to give him so, so many reasons to smile. And when he can't smile, I want to be there for him.

Looking at him like this, a sudden courage fills me. The courage to put pen to paper. I pull out my notebook and start writing, looking up every so often at Dazai's sleeping face, just to amke sure I phrase this thing I'm feeling right (if there's any way to physically capture it. I'd try even if I knew for sure there wasn't).

When I'm finally pleased, I close the book. It's dark out now. I must have been writing for much longer than I thought. Well, I guess I should get to sleep.

IDEALS [kunikidazai]

(A/N: I've been palying around with ship names for these two and came up with Ideal Human because together these two make one perfectly functioning person. Kind of like how Tachizaki is Midwinter Snow because if their abilities)

SUMMARY:

Dazai Osamu is the farthest possible thing from the ideal woman Kunikida Doppo has written so much about in his notebook.

And yet . . . Kunikida is hoplessly in love with him anyway. Kunikida doesn't belive he has a chance with his coworker, I mean, have you seen the way he flirts with women? Straight as the rulers Kunikida used to use in his maths class.

Dazai meanwhile is also inlove with uptight but still charming coworker. But how can Dazai ever come close to the woman Kunikida has in mind?

Will these two damn idiots figure their shit out or not? God, I hope they do, for all our sanity!

(Summary sponsered by Edogawa Ranpo)

Categories: angst, fluff, getting together

Warnings: N/A

Thank you to @wildroseroguefor inspiring me to write Kunikidazai for the first time. Rose has lots of Kunikida content on her blog, check it out.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #kunikidazai #kunidazai #Ideal Human #No Longer Ideal #knkdz #kunikidazai fic #kunikidazai fanfiction #kunikidazai fanfic #kunikidazai angst #kunidazai fanfic #kunikidazai fluff #kunidazai fic #kunidazai fanfiction #kunidazai fluff #kunidazai angst

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