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wosospacegirl · 3 months ago

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Sweet girl - Alessia Russo (+18)

Summary: Request-> Alessia and Y/n have a quicky in the morning after an argument and Alessia is late for training. Good thing Y/n has a motorcycle.

Warnings: +18!!!; smut; little bit of angst (happy ending); fingering alessia receiving.

Word count: 2.8k

MASTERLIST

Alessia was the sweetest girl you could ever meet in your life. She was caring, kind and gentle; sometimes she was too kind to people who didn't deserve it. Everyone who met Alessia fell in love with her right away, that’s how joyful she was.

Y/n often used the words ‘soft’ and ‘tender’ to describe Alessia’s personality as well. Sadly for Y/n, none of these qualities were shining through in her girlfriend at the moment.

Alessia’s week had been a mess– two days of splitting headaches, her period had ended days ago but she still felt bloated and sensitive. All of this affected her training, and therefore her performance in Arsenal's last game. As a result, the team lost 2-1 to Liverpool.

Y/n tried very hard to explain to Alessia that the defeat was caused by the whole team, not just her, but she was upset and wouldn’t listen. Whether Arsenal won or lost, it was never the fault of one player. Alessia knew this, of course, but she was upset nonetheless.

It was one of those days when frustration would linger around her and no one could take Alessia away from it. The match had been three days ago, but she was still upset about it, and an upset Alessia was rude Alessia.

“I just don't understand why you didn't buy the eggs when I asked you to!” Alessia said, slamming the fridge door. “You always forget to buy the groceries, and then I'm late for training because there's nothing to eat!”

Alessia was standing in the middle of the kitchen, wearing Arsenal’s training kit, her blonde hair was down her back, and she had a hair tie on her wrist. She had to be at practice soon, and it looked like that was Y/n’s problem, too.

Y/n listened to Alessia’s complaints as she sipped her morning coffee, sketchbook in hand, drawing tattoo designs for a client.

Y/n prided herself on being a decent girlfriend– she tried to look after Alessia as best as she could. The couple had been together for two years, so Y/n had been by Alessia’s side through a series of injuries, wins and losses.

It was hard to be an athlete's partner; their life was always full of adrenaline, and they were always busy with national and international chronograms.

Alessia was very mindful, considering she wasn’t dating someone from the football world, but unfortunately, when Alessia was frustrated, she seemed to forget that Y/n had a real life outside of being her girlfriend.

Y/n was a tattoo artist. She had opened her own tattoo studio in a corner of North London years ago. Alessia and Y/n had met after the player came into the shop wanting a tattoo on her feet; after their meet-cute, they’d become inseparable.

Y/n took a sip of the black coffee, the rich and bitter aroma filling her nose. Coffee always helped to calm her down, and she certainly needed to be calm, as it was early in the morning and Alessia was looking for a reason to argue.

Y/n sighed and put down the cup in her hand. “Baby, you were the one who had the car this week.” 8 am, it was 8 am and they were talking about fucking eggs. “And Lamar got sick, so I had to take in his clients.”

“I know, but I had a lot going on so I asked you to pick the eggs up,” Alessia said, clenching fists resting on either side of her body.

“And I said I couldn't because I was overbooked with customers, love.” Y/n leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “How about I make you a fruit salad? We have strawberries and blueberries; I can make you something to eat.”

“I don't want fruit, I want an omelette! I always have an omelette in the morning. Alessia groaned and rolled her eyes. Am I supposed to keep up during training today?”

“Alessia, come on, baby–”

“No! This whole week had been shitty and you’re not even helping me!” Alessia continued to carpet.

And that made it for Y/n.

Y/n stood up. “Room, now.” Was all she said before disappearing into the hallway next to the kitchen.

The girl opened the bedroom door and sat down at the end of the bed with her legs spread open. She heard footsteps in the hallway and soon after Alessia entered the room.

“Come here,” Y/n beckoned to Alessia.

“You haven’t been very nice to me the last few days, have you?”

“No” Alessia shook her head.

“And why is that?” Y/n asked. “Look at me, sweet, I'm talking to you.”

“Sorry. I told you I haven’t had a good week,” she mumbled, playing with her hand. Embarrassment radiating from her.

“I understand you’ve had a bad week, what I don't understand is why you’re going out of your way to make sureneither of us can have a good day today.”

Y/n had always been a very straightforward person. She didn't like drama or didn't like unnecessary arguments. If she could fix something, she would. Since Y/n had earned the autonomy to do whatever she wanted in life she focused on opening her tattoo shop.

At the moment, Skin Deep Studio was her pride and joy. Y/n treated the studio with respect and expected Alessia to do the same, just as she did with Alessia’s career.

“I told you I had clients from 9 am to 9 pm, didn't I?” Y/n continued, her eyes fixed on Alessia. “Did you expect me to cancel on them? Especially knowing that they were booked months ago?”

Alessia listened to Y/n, tears slowly forming in her eyes. “You told me you had clients. I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t being very considerate with me,” Y/n explained reassuringly. “You know it’s not fair to ask me to drop everything to go out and do something you want me to do, I’m busy too.”

Y/n wiped a tear from Alessia’s cheek, “I'm just very stressed with everything,” Alessia cried.

The footballer put her legs on Y/n’s lap and rested her head on Y/n’s shoulder.

“There's this big game this week and I can't seem to play it right.” She continued. “But I shouldn't be mean to you just because I'm stressed. I'm very sorry.”

“It's okay, sweetheart,” Y/n said, hugging Alessia's body. “Just talk to me next time, yeah? You always talk to me. I don't know why you didn't this time.”

“I don't know either,” Alessia admitted, breathing in and out slowly, she was calming down bit by bit.

Y/n kissed her cheek, feeling the saltiness of Alessia’s tears on her lips. “It’s alright, just breathe…f do you feel better now?”

Alessia smiled shyly and nodded her head. “Thank you, I love you,” Alessia said before kissing Y/n's mouth.

The kiss was gentle at first, but it quickly became intense.

Alessia slid her tongue into Y/n's mouth. Her hands were on Y/n's shoulder, trying to balance herself while the other girl put her hands on Alessia's lower back, trying to pull Alessia closer.

“I missed kissing you like this,” Alessia said, placing soft kisses on Y/n's neck. “I missed it a lot.

Y/n squeezed Alessia’s hips. “If you hadn’t been so moody this week, we could have kissed a lot sooner.” Y/n said teasingly, holding Alessia’s hips so that she was straddling her.

“Sorry,” Alessia whispered, slowly beginning to grind herself against Y/n's black trousers.

“Is that why you were so grumpy too? You wanted some kisses and didn't know how to ask for them?” Y/n asked, scratching Alessia’s back.

“I think so,” Alessia agreed, rubbing harder, trying to create some friction.

Y/n cupped Alessia's cheek and kissed hard, tugging at the girl's shorts.

“Take them off,” Y/n said against Alessia’s mouth.

“We can't love, I have training” Alessia whispered, still moving her body against Y/n. “And I'm already late.”

“I’ll be quick, just wanna make you cum,”

Alessia blushed deeply. She was always very shy with dirty talk, So Y/n always lowered it down as much as she could.

“Come on, get up,” Y/n tapped her body, urging the girl to stand up, and she did.

Alessia stood in front of Y/n, who quickly pulled her shorts down. The blonde girl was now standing in only her underwear and Arsenal t-shirt.

What a sight.

“So pretty,” Y/n murmured, kissing Alessia's chin, then her cheeks and finally pressing her lip to her mouth. “I want you to ride my fingers, do you think you can do that? Be quick?

“Yes,” Alessia moaned.

Y/n slipped one finger inside Alessia’s soaked underwear “You're gonna cum real nice because you are already so wet, baby,” Y/n said as she sat further away from the bed, to give Alessia more room to get into position.

Alessia already knew what she had to do. She placed her knees on the mattress, each one next to Y/n’s body. The blonde met Y/n's lips and moaned into her mouth as Y/n pulled her underwear aside and gently played with her clit.

“I’m gonna put them in, yeah?” Y/n said, gently playing with Alessia’s hole before penetrating her with two fingers. “Feels nice?”

Alessia purred in her ear, telling her all she needed to know.

“Ride my fingers, baby,” Y/n told Alessia, easing the girl down until her fingers were properly buried inside her pussy.

“Like that, just like that,” Alessia moaned, sinking deeper and deeper into Y/n’s fingers.

Y/n loved watching Alessia being fucked. She was always so sweet when she wanted to cum, so good. Knowing she was the one doing it made her chest rise with pride. She was the only one to touch this pretty girl, the one responsible for her sweet sounds. They shared another kiss, this one was messier, and Alessia was getting eager.

“I need you to cum, love” Y/n whispered to Alessia, pushing her hips down and dictating the pace. “Or else we’ll be late.”

“Al-almost,” Alessia whispered with her eyes closed.

“Yeah? My love is going to make a mess on my fingers just before she has to go to play?” Y/n said teasingly, sucking on Alessia’s neck, but not enough to leave a mark behind. “Come on, let go for me.”

Alessia leaned forward as she came, losing control of her torso; her lips brushing Y/n’s ear. Alessia wasn’t vocal when she came, instead, she was silent, her mouth remaining open for a few seconds as her body trembled with bliss.

Y/n tenderly ran her fingers through Alessia’s blonde hair with her free hand, letting her come down on her own without rushing.

“I’m gonna take them out, okay baby?”

Alessia nodded, resting her head on Y/n’s shoulder as the girl lifted her hips. Y/n pulled her fingers out of Alessia’s warmth and cleaned them against the blanket on the bed.

“Wow, I’m very dizzy,” Alessia breathed, shifting her body and cradling Y/n.

Y/n chuckled, and kissed her cheeks “Is that because of the orgasm or because you haven’t had your omelette yet, huh?”

Alessia nudged Y/n, a shy smile in her eyes. “Stop it, I’m not the same person I was ten minutes ago.”

“Of course, you aren’t,” Y/n hugged Alessia. “My sweet girlfriend is back, now.”

Y/n playfully peppered Alessias’s face with kisses while the girl giggled, squirming against Y/n’s body whenever Y/n kissed a particularly ticklish part of her.

“Okay, okay,” Y/n said, planting another kiss on Alessia’s chin. “I’ll get you cleaned up and I’ll drop you off at training on my way to the tattoo studio, how does that sound?”

Alessia’s eyes widened. She had completely forgotten about training, too absorbed in the bubble of love they had created.

“Bloody hell, I'm going to be so late,” Alessia gasped, as she broke free of Y/n’s grip and ran to her bathroom, Y/n was close behind.

When Y/n got to the bathroom, Alessia was in front of the mirror trying to fix her hair so she didn’t look like she’d had sex with her girlfriend when she should have been at work.

“Renée’s gonna make me do suicide drills just for the fun of it.” The blonde complained, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail. “She hates it when one of us is late– do you think that’s a Dutch thing?”

“Probably, they do enjoy punctuality in the Netherlands,” Y/n said, handing Alessia’s short back. The girl put it on quickly and started brushing her teeth. Y/n gently pushed Alessia to the side so that she could use the sink too.

“Okay, I think I'm good,” Alessia said more to herself, looking at her reflection in the mirror and fixing an unruly strand of hair. “What do you think? Do I look like a mess?”

She and Y/n made eye contact through the mirror. “You look pretty,” Y/n said with a grin, making Alessia blush. “Now let’s go, I'm gonna get our helmets.”

Alessia stopped in her tracks. “Helmets? What do you mean? We’re using my car today.”

“Nope, we’re using the motorcycle.” Y/n pushed Alessia gently out of the bathroom, closing the door behind them.

“No, we aren't,” Alessia stated, turning around to look at Y/n.

Alessia wasn’t terrified of Y/n’s motorcycle, she genuinely thought it was cool. She just didn't like being the one to ride it.

“Baby, you have to be at Arsenal in…” Y/n looked at her watch, “...six minutes, do you think London’s traffic will allow that?”

Alessia thought for a moment, arms crossed. “ Hmph. Alright,. Well, I don’t have much choice,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Whatever, let’s go,” she added, grabbing her training bag while Y/n picked up the helmets.

“I won’t go too fast,” Y/n said, putting an arm around Alessia’s waist as they walked out the door. “Just enough to get you there in time without Renée biting your head off.”

“You know I need to breathe to ride, right?” Y/n said as they rode through the streets on London, rain pouring down on their riding jackets. Yes, her riding jackets because Y/n had bought one for Alessias as well.

Alessia clung to Y/n, her head pressed against Y/n’s back.

“I’m scared,” Alessia murmured, barely audible over the wind.

“Why baby? I’m a good biker.”

“Too fast,” was all Alessia could manage.

Y/n had already slowed down to a safer speed, but she let the motorcycle ease down even more. “There, how’s that? Better?”

“Uhun, thank you,” Alessa finally breathed, loosening her grip but still holding onto Y/n’s hips gently.

Alessia had a love-hate relationship with Y/n’s motorcycle. She liked it because Y/n liked it, and she knew it was almost like a lifestyle to her girlfriend. But sometimes, in her deepest thoughts, she wished Y/n would sell it. Alessia was just too anxious whenever Y/n rode it, afraid of a possible accident.

The motorcycle was undeniably cool and honestly, Y/n looked hot when she wore the black leather jacket that came with it. Alessia just wasn’t cut out for this lifestyle. That’s why she preferred her car–more safety, less wind.

When they finally arrived at Arsenal’s training grounds, Alessia got off the motorcycle, and handed her helmet to Y/n, feeling dizzy.

“You okay?” Y/n asked, catching Alessia’s arm. “You’re green.”

“I honestly think I’m gonna throw up,”

“No you’re not, it was an eight-minute ride,” Y/n smiled softly as she opened the motorcycle trunk and grabbed Alessia’s bag.

“Eight minutes was long enough,”

“You’ll have to ride with me more than that, get used to it,” Y/n leaned against the motorcycle and checked her watch. “Your training’s starting, you should go, baby.”

Alessia moved closer to Y/n and kissed her. “Thanks, love, I appreciate the ride, even though I think my insides are turned upside down.”

“Thank you, It’s always a pleasure to have a pretty girl bear-hugging me while I ride,” Y/n winked. “Also, let me know when you get your lunch break. We can get something to eat around here.”

“Okay,” Alessia smiled. “Will you pick me up when the training is over?”

“Yep, I can do that.”

“Can you take the car, though?” Alessia asked, giving Y/n her best doe eyes.

“Baby–”

“Please? The feeling of having something around you when you drive is nicer than having wind scratching on your face”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree there, love,” Y/n said, putting her helmet back on, and sitting down on the bike. “I’ll grab the car and pick you up.”

“I love you,”

“I know.”

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Notes//2: my smut writing is shitty.

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

#woso #woso fanfic #woso x reader #woso appreciation #arsenal women #arsenal fanfic #kyra cooney cross #alessia russo #lionesses #alessia russo fanfic

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ekingston · 4 months ago

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Hello! So sorry to bother, but have you had any updates on the Word-Stream/Speechify situation?

Just one: like I posted on Xitter and Bluesky last night, as of yesterday afternoon, the links to individual works as they were listed on WordStream are gone from both Google and Bing. Hurray, right? Surely we’re all sick of this whole debacle and there’s far more important things to worry about. If all is well that ends well, surely there’s no need to still be angry.

Well, I am. Here’s why:

When I checked on Wednesday, the links to my own work on WordStream were still listed. So rather than it taking a week after Cliff Weitzman first hid the fanwork from view, it took a little over a week from the moment he first promised privately that they would be deleted. Which, fine. Perhaps Cliff didn’t really know what he was talking about when he gave that timeframe. Or maybe he told a little white lie to create the impression that he always intended to do the right thing. It seems more likely to me, though, that Cliff still believed—even after the backlash he received—that he would get away with honoring only individual takedown requests. Or worse, that he needed just a little bit more time with the stolen material to figure out an alternative way to profit off it—preferably without us noticing, this time.

But who knows? I certainly don’t! All we can do is speculate, because publicly, Cliff Weitzman has remained completely silent on his copyright infringements. All we got was the initial justifications he and his sockpuppet accounts used in comments on the original Reddit and Tumblr posts. After those were so understandably ill-received, Cliff only ever communicated with a few individual authors who contacted him directly and repeatedly, blocking people who addressed the issue on Twitter and quietly distancing himself from WordStream by deleting a blog he’d posted to Speechify.com dated December 20th—where Cliff promoted WordStream’s platform specifically to fanfiction readers. (See my enormous timeline post for details and screenshots of said posts before they were taken down.)

And this is why I’m still angry: As long as Cliff Weitzman faces no real consequences for his actions, he won’t see a need to own up to his mistake; and as long as he’s able to delay taking responsibility, this isn’t over. This didn’t end well.

After all, wasn’t this the next-best scenario for Cliff, second only to him turning WordStream into a (for him) effortless, infinite money-making machine? He took something we provided for free and fed it to AI so he could more easily put it behind a paywall; we found out and protested; Cliff quietly erased all evidence of his crime; and we went—almost equally quietly—away.

I want to make sure you know that I continue to be genuinely amazed and intensely grateful for how quickly the news about WordStream’s copyright infringement was shared—and continues to be shared—throughout fandom, on tumblr in particular. If it hadn’t been for our collective outcry here and on Reddit, WordStream would very likely still be up in its original form, and Weitzman would be reaping the benefits (those subscription prices were steep) today.

But it’s been frustrating to see that, with the exception of mentions in articles on Substack and Fansplaining (the latter of which is a particularly awesome and thorough read on fandom’s decontextualization) and a Fanlore listing, our outrage never really spilled out beyond the safely insulated, out-of-the-way spaces that are tumblr, a handful of subreddits and bluesky. And I believe that—unfortunately—we are collectively responsible for that part, as well.

Most of us seemed content to only spread the word by circulating the same two posts on tumblr. (Have we all given up completely on every other social media platform? Am I the only remaining straggler?) And soon after Cliff Weitzman hid WordStream’s fanfiction category from view, our interest in the issue took a sharp dive even there. Are we genuinely deceived into believing the issue has been fully resolved? Do we truly fail to realize that Weitzman’s refusal to admit that what he did was wrong left the door wide open for the next greed-driven tech bro to wander through? Or is the true naivety in thinking that, as a community, we can keep this kind of attack on fandom from happening again? Has our disillusionment already gotten that bad?

However the situation spins out from here, Cliff’s actions will set a precedent. If we fail to show Cliff and his ilk that attempts to profit off fandom’s unpaid labor have consequences, their tech companies will keep trying until something eventually sticks. They might be a little smarter about it next time; obscure their sources a bit better, maybe leave the titles and the authors’ names off. Or maybe they’ll go a bolder route: maybe next time they cross the line they’ll do it boldly enough for IP holders to take notice and stop tolerating fanwork entirely.

Doesn’t that make you angry, too?

There’s this whole other mess of thoughts I would love to be able to untangle about how commercial influence is contributing to the steady erosion of fandom’s foundations, but I’m tired, and other people have said it all much more eloquently than I ever could. Seriously, go read that article on Fansplaining. Or listen to the podcast version of it. Better yet, as long as you’re wearing your noise-canceling headphones, go listen to a podfic of one of your favorite fandoms’ works, and enjoy the collaborative joy and creativity of the people who Cliff Weitzman refuses to believe exist. (In one of Speechify’s other blogs, Cliff claims there are only 272 podfics on AO3. Would you like to run that ChatGPT prompt again, Cliff?). Honestly, much like Cliff Weitzman’s infuriating denial of the fact that fandom fucking has this covered, thank you very much, there’s so. Many. More. Things for us to talk about. There’s the connotations of WordStream’s dubious ‘upload’ button, for instance, or the fact that the app scraped (and in some cases, allegedly, still lists) copyright-protected original fiction as well, or WordStream’s complete lack of contact information, which is illegal for an internationally operating app. And oh! Has anyone reported more thoroughly on Cliff’s app’s options to ‘simplify’ or ‘modernize’ uploaded works, or—my own very favorite abomination—to translate them into something Cliff calls ‘Gen-Z Language’? Much like his atrocious AI book covers, it would be hilarious, if it didn’t make steam come out of my ears.

Anyway, there it is. I highly recommend you do all of that. And then, if you aren’t familiar with it already, go do some research re: fair use and your rights as the copyright owner of your works. A good number of people commenting on this controversy expressed stunned surprise or fearful hesitation about claiming any sort of ownership of their fanfiction. The more informed we are about our rights, the more willing we will be to defend them.

Please don’t stop writing or sharing your work. If you can’t bring yourself to work on your WIPs today (trust me, I get it), post about this situation instead. Tweets, skeets, whateverthefucks—about WordStream’s theft, about how this reflects on Speechify’s already shady business practices, about how Cliff’s actions and justifications have personally affected you. You’re welcome to share or copy my posts on these platforms, but since Cliff already blocked me, I very much prefer you post your own. If you do, call Cliff Weitzman by his full name and tag or include both WordStream and Speechify to ensure Weitzman will recognize he has both a personal as well as a professional stake in handling the situation with integrity. Leave your concerns in reviews on the Speechify app. (We weren’t provided with a more appropriate place to put them, after all!) Consider calling for a Speechify boycott until Cliff accepts accountability for his actions.

Do avoid making exaggerated claims, and don’t call for physical retaliation against Cliff’s person or his property. We don’t want to give him or Speechify even the weakest of grounds to claim defamation or threats of violence. Focus on the facts: they’re incriminating enough by themselves. Show Cliff that we’re determined to keep bringing up his company’s wrongdoings in public spaces until he demonstrates that he understands why taking these freely shared fanworks and monetizing them was wrong, and takes steps to ensure it won’t happen again.

One last thing—and this is really more of a general reminder—please stop suggesting I handle this situation for you. People have come to me asking for action items. The resulting flashbacks to my days as an office assistant were extremely upsetting. In all seriousness, casting me as some sort of coordinator or driving force behind this backlash actively hurts the cause. Not only does it downplay fandom’s collective efforts, it also makes our message extremely vulnerable. It would be all too easy for Cliff to silence one singular source. Wikipedia will not maintain mentions of this controversy as long as it leads only to Easter Kingston’s attempt to summarize what happened as it was happening. You only know my name because I stumbled upon WordStream’s theft and decided to get my friends involved. I am not more knowledgeable, more skilled or more angrily invested in this issue than you are (or can, or should, be). I draw pictures and I write stories and I worry about the shift I’m seeing in fandom after having been on this ride for even a few pre-livejournal rounds.

I’m not going to stop doing any of those things. But I am going to allow myself to step away for a bit, make my wife dinner, and catch up on our shows.

I trust you’ve got it from here.

#word-stream #cliff weitzman #plagiarism #speechify #AO3 #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #independent authors #web scraping #fandom activism #ask me things!#(which is my ask tag please don’t send me asks about things i’ve already answered in the main post)#anonymous

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kikyoupdates · 2 months ago

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Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑙

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

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For the first time in Katsuki’s life, he finds himself at a loss for words.

What kind of sick joke is this? It hasn’t even been that long since the two of you met, and he made sure to declare his name, loud and clear.

He’s Bakugou Katsuki. He’s the coolest kid in the world, blessed with an incredible Quirk, and he has no doubt that one day, he’ll surpass All Might as the Number One Hero.

And yet, you say you don’t remember his name? Is such a thing even possible? He’s the type of kid who leaves a lasting impression, no matter the time or place. No one who’s been lucky enough to meet him has ever, ever forgotten what his name is.

At least, not until today.

“Don’t... don’t say stupid crap,” Katsuki stammers. He swallows hard; for some reason, there’s a lump in his throat. “I know you remember me, stupid girl. Playing dumb won’t make a difference at this point.”

“I remember Izuku,” you say, pointing to the curly-haired boy in question. Then, you shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “But I didn’t bother memorizing your name, since I don’t like you very much. Actually, I don’t like you at all.”

Katsuki can feel his entire body trembling with rage, and to make matters even worse, several of his classmates have turned their heads and are now watching the scene unfold.

In Katsuki’s eyes, he’s always been the best. Ever since his Quirk manifested, or rather, even before that, his confidence has known no bounds. The universe blessed him with immeasurable power, and at the same time, cursed him with a remarkably inflated ego.

He’s gifted. He’s strong. To top it all off, he’s smart too.

So then, why are you staring at him as if you genuinely don’t give a single fuck?

“What’s wrong, blond guy?” you frown. “You’re making a funny face. Ah, don’t tell me. Are you constipated? Aizawa says it’s important to go to the bathroom on time and not to hold it in. Otherwise, you might—”

“Shut your goddamn mouth!”

Without even thinking twice, Katsuki swings his fist at you, detonating an explosion at the very same time. Of course, using Quirks inside the classroom is absolutely not permitted, but right now, he’s too furious to even care.

He wants to punch that stupid, pretentious face of yours. He wants to put you in your place and prove exactly how much better he is than you.

But it looks like today just isn’t Katsuki’s day, because not only do you manage to sidestep him, demonstrating impressive reflexes, but the teacher chooses to walk into the classroom at that exact moment.

“Bakugou!” she cries out. “What in the world are you doing?!”

He’s in trouble now. He’s in big, big trouble.

And you must realize it too, since all of a sudden, you’re giggling.

“Haha,” you muse. “You did something dumb, and now the teacher’s angry with you.”

Katsuki slams his little fist against one of the desks, just barely suppressing the urge to scream. He knew he had a bad feeling about you from the first moment you met. He knew you were bound to be nothing but a giant pain in his ass.

There’s no doubt about it anymore.

Katsuki fucking despises you.

“You can’t attack your classmates,” the teacher chides. She grabs him and pulls him away from you, then crosses her arms in frustration. “I’m going to let you off with a warning today, but if I ever see you using your Quirk or trying to hurt someone again, next time, I’ll be telling your parents. Am I understood?”

Katsuki grits his teeth. He can see you out of the corner of his eye, and sure enough, you’ve still got that shit-eating grin on your face. A loser like you is actually laughing at someone like him.

No way in hell will he let you get away with this.

Katsuki isn’t sure how, and he’s not even sure when, but one day, he’s going to make you pay for humiliating him.

It’s only your first day at school, but so far, you’ve been having a blast.

The highlight of the day was obviously finding out that Izuku was in the same class as you. Naturally, you intend to make as many friends as possible, but you already liked Izuku, so this is the best turn-out imaginable. It doesn’t look like Shinsou is in this class, which is a bit of a bummer, but maybe one day you’ll get to meet him again too.

Anyways, school is fun. The teacher even specially pulled you to the front of the class, so that you could introduce yourself to everyone.

“I’m [Name],” you smile. “And this is my first time in school, so I’m really excited to be here!”

“Were you homeschooled until now?” one of the kids asks.

“Homeschooled...? What’s that?”

You don’t understand the question, but rather than allowing you to try and clarify, the teacher hastily cuts in.

“That’s right,” she says, straining a smile. “[Name] hasn’t been in school before, so it’s up to us to make sure that she feels comfortable and welcome, okay?”

The students hum in agreement, and thankfully, a bunch of six-year-olds aren’t too concerned with the details of your past, so they gloss over the issue with ease.

Of course, you don’t realize that the teacher was trying to save you just then. She’s been informed that you come from a traumatic background, and she’s doing everything in her power to make sure the other kids don’t say anything that might trigger you or come across as insensitive.

But unfortunately, what the teacher believes are memory gaps due to trauma, are in fact gaps in your knowledge that have yet to be filled in.

Which makes for several awkward instances that day.

“Okay, who wants to try reading the passage I’ve written on the board?” the teacher asks. She consciously avoids calling on you, but because you don’t know any better, you grin and volunteer yourself for the job.

“Me!” you beam. “I can do it!”

“Huh? O-Oh. Thank you for offering, [Name]. Go right ahead,” she encourages.

You just vaguely register Katsuki letting out a derisive snort, but you disregard it and direct all your attention to the blackboard.

It only takes a few moments for your brows to furrow.

“Um, actually, never mind,” you say. “I can’t really understand what you wrote.”

You sit back down like nothing ever happened, meanwhile, some of your classmates are either giggling or gossiping amongst themselves. But since you’re too naïve to realize that they’re making fun of you, you just smile and fold your hands together, happily swinging your legs underneath your desk.

The teacher hurries to clear her throat. “Th-That’s perfectly fine. Taking the initiative and challenging yourself is always a good thing. Um, so then... is there anyone else who’d like to try reading this passage?”

“I’ll do it.”

Katsuki proceeds to stand up, grinning rather smugly for some reason. You’re not particularly interested in him, but Aizawa and Present Mic did say that you’re here to learn things, so if he knows the right answer, you should probably pay attention.

To no one’s surprise, Katsuki reads the passage flawlessly. He’s the best student in the class, despite how much of a little asshole he is.

So, even rude guys like him know all kinds of things. I’d better do my best to learn more and make Aizawa and Mic proud.

Dr. Garaki planned for you to be a soldier. His personal little puppet. Needless to say, when he focused on developing your language comprehension, he primarily intended for you to be able to understand his orders and carry them out without questioning anything. He certainly didn’t expect you to be sitting in a classroom, equipped with a pencil and paper.

But that’s fine. You’re a bit behind the other kids right now, and that can’t be helped, but so long as you have the willingness to learn and improve, you have no doubt that you’ll catch up with them.

You will take fate into your own hands, rather than being used to fulfill someone else’s twisted ambitions.

Anyways, despite messing up in front of the whole class, you have yet to experience what it means to be embarrassed, so you carry on without being fazed in the slightest.

Soon enough, lunch rolls around.

“Izuku! Do you want to eat together?”

You grin as you walk up to his desk, and as always, he blushes at the sight of you approaching him so cheerfully.

“S-Sure,” he mumbles shyly. “If you really don’t mind...”

“Why would I mind? Being with you is so fun! Oh, and we can compare lunches too! Look, Aizawa packed me mini burgers,” you say, opening up your lunchbox and proudly displaying the contents within. “Hehe. I love burgers.”

“Aizawa?” Izuku blinks. “Isn’t that your last name? Earlier, the teacher wrote your full name on the board, and it said ‘Aizawa [Name]’. Do you call your parents by their last name for some reason?”

You frown at that. Come to think of it, Aizawa did mention that he enrolled you in this school using his last name, since he’s your legal guardian or whatever. You suppose that means you finally have a last name, like everyone else. But you've called him Aizawa for so long that it feels kind of weird to change it all of a sudden.

“Aizawa is just Aizawa,” you shrug. “He’s a nice man who takes care of me.”

“So, he’s your dad?”

“Dad? Hm... I guess kind of. Him and Mic are kind of like dads.”

Izuku furrows his brows, desperately trying to keep up. But he probably realizes that there’s a reason why you can’t give him a straight answer, and besides, all families are different, so he’s hardly one to judge.

“Anyways, what do you have for lunch?” you ask excitedly.

“Huh? Oh. My mom packed me katsudon,” Izuku smiles. Just like you did moments prior, he opens his lunchbox to show off what’s inside. “Katsudon is my favorite, so whenever I get to eat this for lunch, I’m always super happy!”

“I feel the same about burgers,” you nod solemnly. “If I could eat burgers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I would. But Aizawa keeps saying I need variety or whatever. I don’t really get it, if I’m being honest...”

Izuku giggles. “Well, if you ate burgers all the time, then it probably wouldn’t be your favorite food anymore, right? You’d probably get sick of it at some point.”

“No,” you reply confidently. “I will never get sick of burgers.”

“Wow. You must really like them! Probably even more than I like katsudon!”

Since you’re incredibly generous (and also a bit curious), you offer Izuku some of your burgers in exchange for having a taste of his katsudon. He accepts, and while his food tastes delicious too, it only affirms what you already knew to be true.

Nothing will ever compare to a good-ass burger.

This of course stems from the fact that it was the first food you ever had. The very first thing you ever tasted since you became a conscious, living being. The taste is comforting to you, even if you don’t realize it, and it’s food that feeds your soul, not just your belly.

But either way, burgers are delicious, and that alone is plenty reason for you to keep eating them.

Lunch is a lot of fun, since you get to spend it chatting with Izuku. The two of you have a great time, and Izuku especially, because up until you came along, he either spent his lunches eating alone, or being teased by Katsuki and his groupies.

Speaking of a certain blond piece of shit, his lunch is going horribly, despite the fact that his mom packed his favorite spicy curry.

He can hardly stand the sight of you and Izuku, giggling stupidly, without so much as a care in the world. You really aren’t all there in the head if you’re choosing to hang out with that lame nerd. And you can’t even read properly, which further reinforces that you’re an idiot.

“Katsuki, what’s wrong?” one of the boys asks him. “You keep looking at [Name]. Are you still upset because she forgot your name?”

Katsuki’s face instantly reddens. “She did not forget my name,” he counters. “She was just pretending like she forgot my name. There's a difference. And why should I care about a stupid girl like her who doesn’t even know how to read?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” the boy acknowledges. “There’s no way someone would forget your name, Katsuki. Maybe she’s just shy. She might have a crush on you.”

“Ew. I’m not interested in girls and their cooties. Especially not the extra stupid ones.”

Katsuki shoves a spoonful of curry into his mouth and spares another quick glance at you. Then again, a crush is actually quite plausible. Everyone’s always praising him for how cool he is, and girls are no exception. It would certainly explain why you’re behaving so strangely, completely unlike anyone he’s ever met before.

Katsuki’s lips curl into a smug grin. A crush, huh? Yeah, that has to be what’s going on here. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense.

He doesn’t even realize that he’s been fixating on you for so long, at least, not until you finally turn his way and knit your brows together.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” you frown. “It’s annoying, so please stop.”

You turn back around and resume happily chatting with Izuku. Meanwhile, Katsuki’s spoon drops onto his desk, and for a solid minute, he sits there with his mouth gaping wide open in disbelief.

He seriously despises you to no fucking end.

A bell chimes, and just like that, your first day of school is officially over.

It was a lot of fun. Hanging out with Izuku was unarguably the best part, and even though you’ve discovered you need to polish up on your reading and writing skills, you’re not discouraged in the slightest. You’re sure that Aizawa and Present Mic can teach you more stuff at home. With their help, you’ll be an A+ student in no time.

“Aizawa! Mic!”

You rush out of the building, and just as promised, they’re both there waiting for you.

“Kiddo!” Present Mic grins. He opens up his arms so that you can run right into them, and without wasting a beat, he picks you up and twirls you around. You giggle at the sensation of your tiny feet being lifted off the ground.

Aizawa watches the exchange with a smile. “You look like you’re in a good mood. I’m guessing you had a fun time?”

“Yep!” you beam. “Oh, and best of all, I ran into a really nice boy who’s in my class! I think we’re going to be really good friends!”

Right on cue, Izuku appears behind you, walking next to a pretty woman who you can only assume is his mother.

“That’s him,” you say, pointing excitedly. “Izuku, look! This is Aizawa, and that’s Mic, who was with me at the playground! They’re the two nice people that take care of me.”

At first, Izuku is a bit bashful, and hides behind his mother’s arm. But as the seconds pass, and he stares at the two men’s faces more and more, a look of realization settles across his face.

“N-No way!” he exclaims, running up to you. “Are you the Voice Hero, Present Mic?! I didn’t realize it last time, but now that I’ve looked more closely, and the name Mic... it has to be you, right?”

“Hm? Ah.” Present Mic chuckles a few times. “Here I am, out of costume and in casual clothes, but you still recognized me, huh? I guess I do have pretty distinct features. Man, sometimes it’s tough being this handsome.”

“No, I think it’s just that your stupid expression is a dead giveaway,” Aizawa remarks.

“What?! Take that back right now!”

“I only speak the truth.”

“Curse you, Aizawa!”

The two are bickering like always, and it makes you giggle. Even though you’re a kid, you can still tell that it’s all in good fun. They get along great, and they care about each other. That much is obvious.

Izuku clenches his fists, eyes glossy and wide. “U-Um, if you don’t mind... would it be alright if I got your autograph? It’s just that you’re a really cool hero, and I love heroes, so...”

His voice tapers off near the end, and he bows his head, visibly flustered. It’s clear that he’s kind of starstruck and doesn’t quite know what to do.

Thankfully, Present Mic isn’t the type to leave a fan hanging.

“One autograph coming right up,” he grins, pulling out a pen (which he keeps on his person for this exact reason). Izuku lets out a squeal of delight, promptly digs into his backpack to grab one of his notebooks, and Present Mic proceeds to write a lengthy and personalized message.

When he’s done, Izuku stares at his new autograph in awe, and you can tell that he won’t be forgetting this meeting anytime soon.

“Say thank you to the nice hero, Izuku,” his mother, Inko, prods.

“Huh? O-Oh, right! Thank you! Thank you so much!”

The little boy bows his head over and over again, and you can’t help but feel like he’s being needlessly polite, especially since Present Mic is as laidback as they come, but you suppose it just goes to show how happy he is.

Izuku really likes heroes, it seems. And as fate would have it, you’re being raised by not one, but two of them.

Nobody can fault you for wanting to brag a little.

“Aizawa is a hero too,” you proudly declare. You expected Izuku to lose his mind again, and granted, he does get a bit more excited, but after a few seconds, his brows pull into a frown.

“S-Sorry,” he stammers. “I’m usually so good at recognizing heroes, but I’m kind of having a bit of a hard time with him...”

“Haha!” Present Mic laughs. “Suck it, Aizawa! You’ll never measure up to me in terms of popularity! Or looks, for that matter!”

Aizawa rolls his eyes. “You know that I deliberately avoid making public appearances. Unlike you, I don’t waste my time worrying about trivial matters like that.” He looks back towards Izuku. “It’s okay if you don’t recognize me, kid. I keep my hero work on the downlow. But thank you for supporting this loud idiot, even if he doesn’t have much to offer.”

“Hey!” Present Mic protests. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Aizawa ignores him, then offers you his hand. “Anyways, time to go home, [Name]. You can tell us all about how your first day went when we get back.”

“Okie-dokie! Bye-bye, Izuku!” You start to wave goodbye to your friend, but at the last second, you have a sudden thought, and you briefly pull away from Aizawa to whisper in Izuku’s ear. “Eraserhead,” you mumble. “That’s Aizawa’s hero name, just in case you were wondering. Don’t worry. If you want his autograph, I can get it for you another time.”

His green eyes go unspeakably wide, so sure enough, he has heard of Aizawa.

For some reason, it makes you feel awfully proud.

“B-Bye, [Name]!” Izuku waves. He’s so excited he’s practically bouncing in place, no doubt looking forward to the autograph you promised him. Unlike Present Mic, Aizawa isn’t usually too keen on interacting with fans, but you’re positive that with a bit of time, you’ll be able to convince him.

Aizawa frowns when you link back up with him. “What were you whispering about?”

“It’s a secret,” you hum.

“Oh? Already keeping secrets, I see. Your classmates must be a bad influence on you,” he muses.

“Nuh-uh! Everyone seems really nice so far. Oh,” you blink, realizing something. “I guess there is one guy that might be a bit of a bad influence. But don’t worry, I’m staying away from him.”

“What?” Present Mic frowns. “Is there a problem child in your class?”

“I guess you could call him that. Mic, remember the blond kid that was trying to make people climb that tree? That's him.”

Present Mic lets out a loud, obnoxious gasp. “Great heavens above. Aizawa, this is serious. There’s a demon in [Name]’s class.”

“I’m sure you’re just exaggerating,” Aizawa sighs. Still, you can feel his grip on your hand instinctively get tighter. “But like I said before, there’s always going to be people that try to pressure others into doing bad things, so don’t be swayed by him. Always make the smart, safe choice.”

You nod in agreement. “Don’t worry. I won’t get hurt because of him anymore. He tried punching me today in class, but I evaded him, and then he got in trouble with the teacher. It was kind of funny.”

In your mind, it was just a casual, thoughtless remark. You’re unharmed, after all, and since no limbs were broken in the process, you figured it was no big deal.

But in light of the information you’ve just divulged, Aizawa and Present Mic find their expressions turning to horror.

They proceed to lock eyes, and in that moment, it’s clear that they’re both thinking the same thing.

“What’s that little brat’s name?” they both glower. “We’d like to have a word with him.”

You purse your lips. They seem awfully serious all of a sudden, although you can’t understand why, because you got out of that situation safe and sound. Clearly, you have yet to realize just how overprotective your ‘dads’ can be.

“His name,” Aizawa insists. “Trying to hurt someone is absolutely unacceptable. We need to take this up with the kid’s parents. In fact, I’m surprised the teacher didn’t tell us. She must have been trying to give the boy a second chance, but it’s still inexcusable.”

“He’s already gotten a second chance,” Present Mic grimaces. “Back at the playground, I already caught him trying to hit [Name] once. It looks like he’s a repeat offender, and bullies like that need to be dealt with right away.”

They’re becoming more heated by the second, and again, it’s strange, because as far as you’re concerned, your first day of school went splendidly.

But you suppose you should tell them what they want to know, since they seem so worked up about it.

“His name,” you start, furrowing your brows, “his name is, um... his name...”

Ah.

“Darn. Looks like I’ve forgotten it again.”

More chapters are available on Quotev or Wattpad!

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sjywrites · 8 months ago

Note

Hii can I request Sophia x reader academic rivals? 🥺 u can do whatever u want w the plot pretty much please and thank u so much <3 :)

༊*·˚ ACADEMIC RIVALS LOVERS?

𝓢ophia 𝓛aforteza x 𝓖n!reader. (no pronouns used). 𝓖enre. fluff, angst if you squint 𝓢ypnosis. our two favourite academic rivals have a lil fight, but the situation turns bad, and people realize their feelings. 𝓦𝓒 . 824 𝓒𝓦 . mentions of being hospitalised (sophia), a little angsty!

𝓝ote! this is a little messy since I wrote it during one of my breaks, but please lmk if you want like a part two cuz I really liked this plot!

---

This is purely fiction and is not meant to interpret how the idols act in real life!

,, not proofread + english is not my first language ! ೃ⁀➷

At this point it didn’t even matter if you were better than everyone, you just had to be better than her. It started off very simple, both of you wanted to be better than everyone, academically that is. Eagerly waiting to get tests back and see who got a higher score, a smug grin on one's face when they got a better result than the other. No harm in that right? Wrong, that’s what started all of this.

Sophia walked towards me with her head held high, her uniform as neat as ever and her hair styled in a way making her look almost angelic. Wait, what? “What were your results?” She said, slamming her paper on top of my desk, I shook out of my daydreaming to answer her. “96.” I said while looking down in my maths book, trying to solve an equation but still focusing on what she would respond. She looks away and a teasing smirk spreads on her lips, and moves the finger that covered her results, 97. “Guess I’m just better than you huh?” She said proudly, staring down at me “Just because you got one point more than me doesn’t mean you’re better than me.” I said, pouting a little at her accusation.

Lately I’ve been feeling kind of… weird? Even if Sophia gets a higher score than me, I can’t find it in me to give a fuck. “Well, you’ve been slacking off a lot lately, I’ve gotten higher scores than you on the last four tests. So, I think that makes it obvious who's smarter!” Sophia states like it was the most obvious answer to what I said. Staring at her for a moment, I reply. “I've been busy okay, not everyone has that much free time to spend on studying, and you're talented in general, no wonder you get high scores” She looks shocked at my statement, then she smirks a little, “Did you just admit that I'm smart?” She looked proud in some way or another, “Not what I meant Sophia, but whatever floats your boat.” I grab my things from the desk and walk outside the classroom to my locker, a little frustrated at the whole situation. I did miss her response,

“I study that much so you won't think I'm stupid.”

A week goes by, no Sophia in sight. She missed two assignments, she's usually here every day. Even if she's sick, which I don't get why she does, but still. Did something happen to her? Was it something I did?

“You've been zoning out for the past like, three periods, what is going on with you today?” Lara, my best friend asks. “Do you know where Sophia is?” I ask, not really thinking before I ask. “Why do you want to know, don't you guys like, hate each other?” She looks at me with a very questionable look, suspecting something I cannot grasp, “Yes? No? I don't know Lara, but do you know where she is?” I say, a little confused and concerned. She looks at me with sad eyes before replying, “Y/N, Sophia got really sick out of nowhere, I heard she's at the hospital.” My eyes blew wide at the shocking news, why didn't she tell me? No, why would she do that? We're not even friends.

—

Am I really doing this? I think to myself as I open the hospital doors and stumble up to the kind-looking man in the lobby. I strike up a casual conversation with him as he guides me to a room, I thank him quickly before he scurries away.

There in the little window on the door I see her, Sophia's sitting down on the bed. Her hair is a mess and her clothes look ridiculous, it looks like she hasn't slept for a few days too. I gently open the door and her gaze falls upon me, it's easier to see her face now. She looks tired, really tired. “Hey…” I say, she looks away from me and cuddles up in her sitting position. “What are you doing here?” she tries to sound annoyed, but it just comes out in a tired huff. “I heard what happened, I… was worried about you. I brought some notes from the classes you missed.” She looks shocked at my confession, she relaxes her posture and her gaze becomes soft. “Thank you… I really appreciate it.” She smiles a little as she grabs the papers I handed her, our hands touching softly.

I look at her, really look at her. For the first time actually having time to admire how pretty she looks, how perfect her flaws are. “I just came to give you that… so if you don't need anything else, I'll go.” I turn around to walk away, grabbing the door knob and turning it around, “Wait! Will you… please stay with me a little longer, I need it.

I need you.”

this is so messy I'm sorrrrryyyy!! I wanted to post something today at least :((

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abyssalwavezz · 3 months ago

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ok since caleb is back i NEEDDDD to see him and zayne interact and they have like a rivalry since they’re all childhood friends in case infold doesn’t give it to me idk how it would work tho but i trust you

Fire and Ice

Author's note: I really almost went a very dark romance direction with this, but it would've needed to be multiple parts and Caleb would've been like a villain, so I did my best to condense it into a single chapter uwu plus, this is my first LADS fic, so I am really getting a feel for the characterization and what kind of storylines I want to write after so long of not writing fics.

Contains: College AU! Zayne x MC/YN x Caleb love triangle (except MC doesn't really like Caleb back) where Zayne ultimately wins over MC teehee, shameless cameos of the other boys because I can, and several time skips because yeah <3

Warnings: cursing I guess? and Caleb being kind of a creep lol but we all know he is one canonically anyway, and also this wasn't proofread because who has time for that

Word Count: 3,743

Class started at 9:00 today just like it did every other day. Today though, you were late. And of course, it was an exam day.

You jumped out of bed as soon as you realized it was 8:41. Could you get ready and make it across campus in 20 minutes?

Only one way to find out.

Had you looked at your phone, you would've realized that a certain someone had been trying to message you. But he was unable to since your phone was on DND. You were too busy throwing on clothes and making yourself look presentable to think about anything else, anyway.

Once you had an outfit on and had somewhat cleaned yourself up, you glanced at the clock on the wall.

8:53...shit.

On a good day, it took about 10 minutes to walk to this class. Today, you would have to run there in 7. If only you hadn't skipped running the mile for gym...

You grabbed your bag, keys, and phone (that you still hadn't looked at) before running out the door.

However, something very sturdy and tall stopped you halfway down the hallway.

"Oof," you grunted as you came into contact with this tall, sturdy thing.

Turns out, it was a person. The person who had been trying to text you all morning.

"Caleb! What the hell?"

You looked up at him in frustration.

"I'm trying to get to class! The one you should be in too? We have an exam!"

Caleb, who still hadn't actually spoken, only laughed as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He clicked a few things on the screen before turning it towards you.

It showed an email from your professor to your class, letting you all know that he was sick and that both class and the exam was cancelled.

It took you a few seconds to decide if you were happy or upset about the situation. Ultimately, you decided you were happy.

"If your phone hadn't been on 'Ignore Caleb Mode,' this could've been avoided," he chuckled out, putting his own phone back in his pocket.

You finally got yours out and noticed that you had, in fact, missed three texts and four calls from Caleb.

The most recent one though, wasn't from Caleb. It was from Zayne. Just reading his name on your phone made your heart skip a beat.

"You wanna go get breakfast or something?" Caleb asked, snapping you away from your Zayne-themed thoughts.

Your eyes met his excited ones, but it only took him a second to realize what your answer would be.

"Come onnnn," he groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. "Your next class isn't until 12 and mine is at 12:30. You got some big plans or something?"

You hesitated. You weren't sure how much you should tell Caleb. He could be a bit funny about things sometimes.

"I...I told Zayne I would meet him for coffee after our class. Which has now been cancelled, so he texted me asking if I wanted to meet him earlier instead."

Caleb grew silent, whatever was left of his initial hopeful expression now nonexistent.

"Oh...I see. Forgot he was in our class too."

"Caleb, come on. How about I have dinner with you to make up for it? Whatever happened with you two anyway? We all used to be great friends."

He scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets and kicking at the floor halfheartedly.

"Don't worry about it. Go have fun, I won't get in the way."

With that, Caleb walked away.

You sighed as you swirled the last bit of your now cold coffee around the bottom of the mug.

"And so then he just walked away," you said quietly, still not sure what you did to deserve that from Caleb.

You looked up at the dark-haired man in front of you.

Zayne hadn't said much yet, he was just listening to you go on and on. But this really wasn't out of the ordinary for you two.

"Never mind that! Tell me about your day so far Zayne. I have really been yapping since we sat down."

Zayne lifted the corner of his mouth in a small smile, breathing slightly through his nose before raising his mug to his lips for a drink, and then setting it back down.

"I wouldn't call it yapping. I enjoy listening to you speak, and it sounds like you had an eventful day right from the start."

Your face burned slightly from Zayne's words, and you prayed he didn't notice.

"But my day before now really only consisted of some early morning studying, if you really wanted to know."

You chuckled a bit and raised your eyebrow playfully at Zayne.

"Future Dr. Zayne needs to study? We should all feel a little better about ourselves then!"

Zayne shook his head at your comment, in the way he always does when he thinks something is funny but doesn't want to show it and give you the satisfaction.

"Everyone would benefit from studying. Some of us...more than others," he said so only you could hear, glancing at the farthest corner of the cafe.

You followed his gaze and saw what he was looking at.

At the table in the corner was the well-known quiet kid, Xavier. His head was down on the top of the table in its usual position, and even from where you were sitting you could hear his signature snores.

What was really funny though, was not Xavier, but something else.

There were three people sitting across from him at another table with their phones out, taking pictures of him sleeping. Their stifled laughs and giggles were infectious, and you realized it was the class clown group of Sylus and his two sidekicks, Luke and Kieran. They truly were always getting into trouble or causing it.

You snorted and quickly covered your mouth and nose with both hands, hoping no one heard it. But of course Zayne did, and even he had to laugh quietly.

After the moment passed and it got quiet again, you decided to ask Zayne the real question that had been on your mind. The same one you asked Caleb a couple of hours ago.

"So... what did happen between you two? There must have been something."

Zayne stared into his dry coffee mug, pushing his glasses up slightly with the tip of his index finger.

"I'm not sure what you're referring to, (Y/N)."

"You know what I'm talking about. Caleb? The three of us used to have so much fun together as kids. Then when we started college together, everything got so tense a few weeks into the first semester."

"There are some things that you don't know, and it would be better if it remained that way. At least...for now."

You knew not to push Zayne. And you did trust him, so you decided to leave it alone for the moment.

Hopefully you would get to the bottom of it, sooner or later.

The two of you had stayed at the cafe much longer than you meant to. So you decided to go through the to-go lunch line before Zayne walked you to your next class.

You wondered if Zayne knew how you felt at times like these. Of course he was smart, but was he able to tell how you truly felt about him? What would he think? What would he say, if he knew? There's no way he would feel the same, so would he at least still want to be your friend?

Stupid.

Once Zayne had gotten his food as well, he turned towards you but stopped before he moved any closer.

"(Y/N), don't move."

You clicked your tongue in fake annoyance and put your hands on your hips, putting all your weight onto one side as you glared at Zayne.

"Why? Is there a big spider on me or something?"

"Yes."

"What?"

You immediately froze, your bag of food falling to the ground with a slight plop noise. Then you screamed and flailed your hands around, trying to brush off whatever spawn of Satan was on you.

In the commotion, you lost your balance, and fell backwards, colliding with another person. Whoever it was broke your fall, at least.

"Ouch, my hand!" the person whined underneath you.

As quickly as you could, you got up onto your feet and saw a big brown spider on the floor, scurrying away from the scene.

Huh, so Zayne really was telling the truth.

Snapping back to reality, you bent down with your hand outstretched to help the purple haired boy up.

"I am so sorry. It's Rafayel, right? Is your hand okay?"

Rafayel groaned and rubbed his right hand with his left before making eye contact with you.

"No thanks to you. I need my hands for painting, you know."

Rafayel bent over to pick up his bookbag that had fallen down, and then shot you another look.

"But I suppose that spider was a fearsome creature. You're forgiven."

Before you could apologize again, he turned on his heel and marched away.

Blinking rapidly, you stood up straight and scanned the cafeteria. As you made eye contact with people, they looked away away in a hurry. All except Zayne, who stood holding your forgotten bag of food.

"Shut up, Zayne."

"But I didn't say anything."

Classes were now over for the day, and you thought it was strange that you hadn't seen Caleb anymore. Usually, he was waiting outside your classrooms whenever he could, almost like he had your schedule memorized and watched you from a distance somehow. To be honest, you wouldn't put it past him. He had always been super protective of you, which you appreciated. But sometimes, it could be a bit much. Especially as you have gotten older, and are starting to feel differently and do more things on your own.

Did Caleb...like you? Is that why he has been like that? Or was he just being the best friend he could be for you?

Nah, no way he liked you. You guys were just really good friends, and had been for years. That was enough for you.

Zayne, on the other hand, often had your emotions and thoughts in a knot. You couldn't put your finger on when exactly, but you had fallen for him as more than just a friend, and you thought about him often.

Would his lips be as cold as his hands usually were?

You shook your head, trying to shake the thought itself from your brain. No sense in getting too deep. Zayne was here for school and to become a doctor. And he could have anyone he wanted, so why on Earth would that person be you?

You decided to take a walk before it got too dark. After all, it would be nice to be by yourself for a bit since the day had been so chaotic so far.

Glancing out the window of your room, you tried to plan the route you would walk. But when you did, you noticed someone duck behind the bushes nearby.

What the hell?

Now curious about who was watching you in your own room, you decided to go around the back of your dorm building to try and catch whoever it was.

Once you were outside, you crouched a bit and tried to come around the corner of the building as quietly as possible. You took each step with a sense of purpose, willing the person to still be there. The bushes were now only a few steps away.

In a flash, you lunged, separating the bushes with your hands to find out who the creep was. But there was no one there.

Defeated, you plopped down onto the grass, trying to decide if you even wanted to go for a walk anymore.

"Whatcha doing down there on the ground?" a familiar voice behind you asked.

"Caleb!"

You stood up excitedly and clasped your hands together.

Caleb bent down to your eye-level and smiled, his usual sparkle back in his gaze.

"Were you lookin' for something?"

You shook your head, looking back over at the disheveled bush.

"No, it was really weird. I thought someone was watching me from the bushes right there. It's right underneath my window. I was gonna punch them in the mouth!"

Caleb coughed.

"Yeah, that is really weird. Anyway, wanna grab dinner soon? You offered, after all."

"Oh, sure! It's gonna get dark soon anyway, so no time for a walk after all."

You walked with Caleb to the cafeteria in silence. Usually the two of you would be talking about random things, whether that be you trying to decide on a major or Caleb's newest model airplane he built. But today, it was nothing. And you didn't really like that.

"Caleb, do you care about me?"

Your sudden question startled him, the silence around you quickly dissipating. But he didn't miss a beat.

"Well, of course I do. It's about time you noticed! But why are you asking?"

"Because I feel like you're hiding something from me. And so is Zayne, and it really bothers me. Today was especially bothersome."

Caleb sighed, opening the door to the cafeteria for you.

"You really wanna know?"

"Yes! I miss the two of you getting along. We had some great times."

Caleb grabbed two empty lunch trays and handed you one. You mumbled a quick thanks as you watched his conflicted facial expression manifest.

"We just had a fight, okay? That's all. Sometimes that happens and people aren't friends anymore."

You weren't satisfied. You knew there was more to it after the way he reacted earlier when you told him you were meeting Zayne for coffee.

"You're still leaving something out."

"What, you wanna know what we fought about?"

"Yes! Maybe I can help."

Caleb shook his head, reaching for a serving spoon to get some rice.

"Hmm, I don't think so, (Y/N). Not this time. This isn't like when we argued over the last Popsicle in Grandma's freezer."

"Oh, come on. I'm not a little girl anymore. You don't have to hide things from me."

He gripped the next serving spoon tightly, causing the food on it to wobble slightly.

"I know you aren't a little girl anymore, and that's part of the problem. You don't need me as much anymore."

"Caleb," you groaned, "You know I still want you around, no matter what. I love you, you know?"

Caleb's head seemed to be on a swivel, as fast as he turned towards you.

"You do?"

"Well yeah! You're my best friend."

Caleb's face fell slowly, starting with his eyebrows and ending with his lips.

"Yeah, best friends love each other, I guess..."

You followed him out of line to the closest table where he flopped onto one of the seats.

"I don't understand, Caleb. You don't want me to love you?"

"He does, but not in the way you are referring to, (Y/N)," a male voice said from behind where you were sitting. A voice you knew very well.

"Zayne?" you gasped. "How did you know I was here?"

You turned away from Caleb to look at him fully. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and the expression on his face was completely unreadable.

"This is usually the time you eat dinner, and I was hoping I would find you here. I did some thinking after our conversation earlier and wanted to talk to you."

A sudden loud noise caused you to jump. Looking towards the sound, you saw Caleb's tight fist against the table, surrounded by stray grains of rice.

"You've got a lot of nerve comin' up to our table right now, Zayne."

"I suppose I have just as much nerve as someone who enjoys stalking women due to their own insecurities."

Caleb stood up from the table, attracting the eyes of other students sitting down for dinner.

"Um, guys. Maybe we should all go talk outside?"

You felt something cold against your hand, and then another on your cheek.

They were snowflakes from Zayne's Evol, melting against the heat of your flushed skin.

You quickly glanced at Zayne, who was completely focused on Caleb. He hadn't even realized that he was causing them to appear in his emotional state.

A few of them stuck to your eyelashes, but you quickly blinked them away, risking a look at Caleb.

He was just as focused on Zayne, his jaw set in place and his hands now gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles.

"I think that's a great idea," Caleb spat, still not breaking eye contact with Zayne.

Without another word, he stomped towards the door, bumping Zayne's shoulder on the way by.

Though you hadn't moved, you felt out of breath as you finally met Zayne's eyes.

He was stoic, the anger he felt inside radiating off of him like a heatwave.

"Sorry about the snow," he said quietly.

You shook your head.

"What is going on? This is the first time the two of you have interacted in a long time, and it's already going to shit."

"He wants you all to himself, (Y/N). And that is just something I cannot abide."

"He what? Zayne, what-."

Before you could finish, he left to walk outside as well, taking the remaining snowflakes with him.

You ignored the onlookers and the mess left on your table before following after them.

Once you had them in your sights, you realized Caleb was getting in Zayne's face, challenging him to make a move.

Your walk turned into a run so you could catch up to them in the clearing that they were in behind the cafeteria. It seemed that they were in the middle of a new argument.

"...doesn't know what she wants. How would you know, nerd?"

"You aren't right for her, and you act strangely when it comes to her. What would any sane person think?"

Caleb was getting loud, but Zayne was speaking in his usual measured tone.

"What is going on?"

The boys froze, seeing that you had followed them outside. Caleb started to back away, and Zayne cleared his throat, moving to push up his glasses before realizing they weren't there.

"Explain yourselves. Now."

They didn't start talking right away. Instead, they took a step farther away from each other and stood silently.

"I mean it. You two are acting so damn weird. I don't deserve this."

Zayne sighed.

"She's right, Caleb."

Caleb crossed his arms.

"Yeah, I know."

Zayne started speaking first.

"When we first came here, Caleb and I had a conversation. About you."

You didn't say anything, in fear of causing them to change their minds about telling you.

"(Y/N), I was going to let you know that...that I felt a different way about you now than you might've expected. And I told Zayne about it, thinking he would support me."

"Except I found out about the...peculiar ways he chooses to look out for you and protect you. And I let him know that I strongly disapprove of his intentions."

Caleb glared at Zayne once more, and you shushed him when you saw that he was opening his mouth to fuss at Zayne.

"You follow me around to classes and stuff right? I figured. And I'm now guessing that was you in the bushes earlier?"

Zayne raised an eyebrow.

"I don't need you to watch over me like a hawk, Caleb. I am a grown up, a grown woman. And I can take care of myself."

His head lowered slightly, a hand meeting his neck to rub it awkwardly.

"I know it comes from an honest place in your heart, but I need you to stop. And..."

You hesitantly reached out to touch his arm.

"I'm sorry, but you're like my brother. I love you...in that way. Do you still want to be around me?"

Caleb sighed, laying a hand over top of yours.

"You can't get rid of me that easily. I will always be around. In whatever way you want, pipsqueak." Caleb flashed you a sad smile.

You let out a nervous chuckle, glad to see that he took it at least somewhat well. Never in your life would you have expected Caleb to have a crush on you. But you knew you didn't want to lose him, no matter what.

"Zayne..." Caleb said, turning away from you and letting his hand fall away, "I'm sorry, man."

"It's alright. I look forward to moving past this with you."

Caleb nodded without speaking, and then he walked away. You decided you wouldn't call out for him since he seemed like he needed some time alone.

That just left you with Zayne and the awkward space between you.

"Zayne..." you began.

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something now?"

A glimmer of hope could be felt, deep within the pit of your stomach. You couldn't stop thinking about something Zayne had said a few moments ago, and though this might not be the best time, you figured it was as good a time as any. If Caleb could do it, so could you.

"Anything. And for what it's worth, I am sorry too. Our behavior was inexcusable."

"What exactly did you mean earlier? When you said he wanted me all to himself? I thought you were upset with him because he chose to look out for me in unique ways."

The edges of Zayne's ears turned red, and he placed a hand against his chin, refusing to look directly at you.

"Were you...jealous, too?"

Zayne remained still and quiet, not sure what to say next.

"Because I really like you. I have for a long time. And no, I know what you're thinking...I am not just saying that because of what happened tonight. Actually it kind of inspired me to tell you."

Something suddenly caused your eye to water. You rubbed it hurriedly, then pulled your hand away to see a trail of moisture run down your thumb. But not long passed before you figured out what it was, a white speck falling in front of your field of vision giving it away as it landed on your outstretched hand.

"I wouldn't call it jealousy but..."

You shivered slightly as the snowflakes turned into a small flurry.

"I knew he wasn't right for you. And...one can have hopes."

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #zayne x reader #caleb #sylus #rafayel #xavier #zayne #mc #y/n #reader insert #x reader #lads x reader #luke #kieran #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #zayne x mc

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fayes-fics · 2 years ago

Text

Refuge

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (throuple)

Summary: Fluff fic. The boys tend to you when you are sick.

Warnings: none... this is just sick/comfort and fluff.

Word Count: 1.1k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Anon request fill (see HERE) requesting a fluffy comfort fic with the Bridgerton brothers. This isn't set in the Lessons-verse, but is a similar set-up, where the reader is in an established throuple with A & B and lives with them at Aubrey Hall. Nonny, I hope this fits your wishes. Enjoy! <3

A bed is only a refuge when it's by choice.

That's the thought preoccupying your melancholic mind as you sit in bed, propped against a mass of pillows, staring out the window across the sun-drenched fields of Aubrey Hall. Wishing you could be outside, enjoying the sun's rays on your skin. Instead, you are stuck inside, boredom reaching new heights as you contemplate restarting a book for the third time.

For the past two days, a stomach complaint has left you feeling weak and without an appetite, but also frustratingly unable to sleep, seemingly worse at night. Also, you never sleep well when separated from your loves—it is all a recipe for a maudlin mood. The doctor does not think it is contagious but recommended bed rest and a foul-tasting tincture you must drink twice daily. The Bridgerton boys are coming back from business in London today, and usually, that would signify a wondrous, sensual reunion, but your traitorous body has decided otherwise.

Just as you are sullenly picking up the book you completed that morning, there is a soft knock at your door.

“Come in,” you call, defeated, expecting it to be someone bringing you more disgusting medicine.

“Darling, we are home! My valet informs me you are sick. Why did you not send word to London? We could have cut short our business,” Anthony’s worried tone seems to inhabit his whole frame as he strides in and makes a beeline for you.

“Are you alright?” Benedict adds, appearing behind him, his face also a picture of concern, rounding the other side of the bed.

The wondrous sight of them tips you over the edge. A bloom of pleasure mixed with frustration that your reunion cannot be in the manner you would like. It breaks the dam of emotions you have been keeping at bay, all bubbling over into tears.

“Oh my love, no, please do not cry!” Benedict implores and softly takes a seat on the edge of the bed, taking your hand.

Anthony hovers, worry etched into his face but seemingly unsure what to do. Benedict frowns at him and signals for him to sit on the bed, which he does after a pause, taking your other hand.

“I've missed you both so very much,” you snuffle between tears, your gaze pinging between them. “I am just so sorry to disappoint you - I am not in a fit state to celebrate as we usually would,” you offer quietly, feeling guilty and biting your lip.

“You could never disappoint us,” Anthony avows sincerely, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

“We have missed you too, my love,” Benedict strokes your cheek delicately with his free hand, swiping a tear that falls with his thumb. “But please, you are obviously sick; we only care about you getting better.”

“Yes,” Anthony nods brusquely, “what can we do to alleviate your suffering? Open a window? Or is the room too cold? Perhaps a fire? Do you need more pillows? Or less? Perhaps some more tea?”

A glow behind your ribs flares at their loving concern in their unique ways—Anthony trying to solve the problem, Benedict offering sympathy. It is just so them.

“I would perhaps enjoy new reading material,” you confess quietly. “I have read all the books here in this room at least twice over now,” you admit sheepishly.

“I will have the staff move my entire library up here this afternoon,” Anthony declares solemnly, a hand over his heart.

“No, no, please, just a few books will be more than fine,” you assure with a feeble giggle, more tears welling at his outsized gesture.

“I think what she most needs from us, brother, is us,” Benedict assesses, lowering himself to buss a kiss on your forehead—always the one to intuit your emotional needs more than you can yourself.

“Yes, please,” you whisper, almost ashamed of your yearning to just be held by them, your weakened state making you feel fragile and in need of strong arms holding you close.

Anthony instantly pulls at his boots and then swings himself around until he can lie next to you. “Of course, how did I not see that?” he chastises himself, his lips running a soothing line over your right temple.

Benedict also takes off his boots and does the same, and a feeling like warmed honey spreads behind your ribs as they each wrap an arm around your middle, snuggling into your neck and face.

“Thank you so much,” you murmur, your tears drying with their comforting presence.

“No more tears now,” Anthony lectures, but with a gentle sweetness that is him willing you to feel contentment. “We are here to do everything in our power to ensure you are all better soon.”

“Indeed,” Benedict confirms.

“Could you possibly get under the covers with me?” your ask is timid.

“Oh, of course!” both exclaim and stand up just long enough to shuck their jackets and waistcoats, pull back the bedding and slide in next to you. The heat of their bodies is an instant balm, seeping through their shirts through the thin cotton of your nightgown.

“Darling, your body is cold!” Anthony exclaims anxiously as his hand slides over your belly.

“I have not been able to keep food down, so I am always cold,” you admit. “All I can handle is weak, cooled tea.”

“My poor love,” Benedict sighs into your hairline. He runs gentle kisses over your cheek. “Then we will just have to stay here and keep you warm now, won't we?”

“That would be truly wonderful,” you sigh, closing your eyes, feeling a bone-deep relief to be back in their joint, loving embrace. Something feels missing when they must both be gone. One is bearable; both being gone makes you ache for them. “Thank you, my loves,” you murmur as you feel the pull of sleep finally taking you.

The boys share a knowing silent glance - all other things they may have to attend to can wait; paramount is you and your recovery - before settling into the pillows next to you. Their legs entwining with yours, their arms holding you, their solid bodies bracketing yours.

You sleep peacefully for the first time in days and awaken around dawn to beautiful birdsong, surrounded by Anthony and Benedict, their breath skittering over your skin in repose. During the night, your hands have ended up laced together. You feel warm for the first time this week, and your stomach rumbles, the urge to eat raring for the first time in days. It feels like you have turned a corner, although your desire to leave the bed is close to zero, snuggling down into them both - your wonderful boys.

A bed is only a refuge when it's by choice indeed.

Both Anthony & Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @sya-skies

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hmhas-00 · 5 months ago

Text

Ch.1

Hit Me Hard & Soft

word count - 1.7k words

A/N - Hi lovelies! I can’t wait for you to fall in love with Remy and Billie, and their ✨friendship✨

Chapter 2 will be up tomorrow! Starting next week, my posting schedule will be Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Please like and reblog! It means a lot! 🫶🏻

Remy's POV

My hand shot back as the hot, white-coated metal of the car door burned my fingertips.

“Motherfu-“ Immediately, my watery eyes landed on the yellow paper folded under the windshield wipers.

“You have to be kidding me right now.” Unfolding it, the paper revealed a dreaded parking ticket. Crumpling the paper into my back pocket, I swung open the door. Plopping onto the hot leather seat and ignoring the 3rd degree burns going into the backs of my thighs, my phone slid into the crack between the center console. As if on purpose, my phone began to ring nonstop. A huge sigh escaped my lips, while I started the engine to at least get some A/C. When the bluetooth connected to the car, I answered the call using the hands-free feature. Thank the gods for technology.

“Hey, Bills- Right now is not a-“ I groaned, fighting for my life to rescue my phone from the french fry abyss that it had fallen in.

“Remy! Where are you?” Billie exaggerated in a playful, but very loud voice. Maybe it was the stereo volume, though…

“I’m sorta in the middle of- HA! Got it!” I shrieked, putting the phone in the cupholder.

Billie whined, “I thought you were coming tonight. I don’t want to go alone! I’ve been really nervous and-“

Immediately, I realized I had promised my best friend I’d go the live recording of The Late Show With Steven Colbert. Mouthing expletives I yanked the stupid seatbelt, attempting to secure it multiple times.

“Oh my fucking god. I’m so sorry! I didn’t exactly forget. It’s just- I’ve had the shittiest day. I was humiliated at work today, got a parking ticket-“

“Oh, shit. Remy, hey- No, I’m sorry! Fuck, start from the beginning, what happened?” Billie worried, putting her disappointment aside. “Please, don’t worry about tonight, I’ll come over right after and we can talk more if you want?”

I hurried out of the parking space, not bothering to look before putting the car in reverse. “No, no! I’ll be on the way right now. It’s fine, it’s just been a crazy day. A lot at once. I’m on the way though!”

“You sure?” Billie cooed. “Are you sure you’re okay to be driving right now?”

“Yeah, yeah! I’m good.” Tears brimmed my eyes. Not tears of sadness, but instead frustration. Everything that could possibly go wrong was going wrong, and had been for at least a week. Still, I felt awful for forgetting about our plans. She’d been talking about how nervous she is about her first live performance since her new album, HMHAS, came out on Friday.

“Okay… Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had such a hard day today. Tell me everything.” She comforted me, always knowing what to say and how to say it.

I began to tell her all about my stressful day at work, and how my boss crossed several professional boundaries.

Earlier that day I presented my ideas to the potential new column writers for our magazine, while my chauvinist pig of a boss dismissed my efforts, and mansplained almost every point I made. After the board meeting I made the mistake of interrupting his debriefing with the rest of the team in his office and told him that I’d really like another chance to speak to the writers. “You were there because I allowed it. If you’d like another chance with those guys, consider wearing something worth their while.” He sneered and waved me out of his office. It brought me back to earth, making it evident that I am nothing but a secretary. As I opened the door to leave, he told me to go home for the day. I didn’t know if this meant I was fired, or if he was just sick of seeing my face. Regardless, it made me want to crawl into a hole and never go back.

“You realize he basically implied that unless you show some cleavage, no one will listen to you, right?” Billie protested, appalled at my story of the day. She had listened to countless rants about my job, never understanding why I stick around.

The truth is, this was my in! This is the environment I had studied so hard to be around and paid thousands of dollars for. Well, not quite. But it was my in. I believed I could make it through and work my way up to the top of the chain, hopefully enough to fire the assholes that run the magazine. Or at least be an editor.

“Anyway, so then I went out to my car and found the ticket after burning my hands, then burned my legs, then my phone fell under my seat, and here we are. Now, I’m going to drive off the PCH, if you don’t mind.”

“Not before I see you today. I’ll make it better…” she promised, knowing she always did. “…I’m not gonna say it.”

“Good”

“Quit already.”

“Billie…” I insisted.

“Okay, okay. Just saying. Don’t change. Keep being your bold self. Someone will appreciate it.”

“Thank you.”

“Someone at a different company because they don’t deserve you! They-“ she protested, starting her speech.

“Billie!” I whined. I honestly didn’t want to hear it. I just wanted to forget. “I’m pulling up right now, I’ll see you inside okay?”

“This isn’t over!” She shouted into the phone, still amped up.

I hung up and rolled the window down, showing my ID to the guard at the front gate. He smiled at me and nodded as the beautiful golden gates began to open inward into the giant property. I drove my car down the long road to Billie’s house and parked my car where I usually did. Security led me in and I was greeted with the warmest hug on planet earth.

Billie wrapped her arms around me, radiating with tenderness and comfort, amidst her own anxiety for what was to come tonight. “Are you ready for tonight?” My voice muffled into her dark hair.

She smelled sweet and when we pulled away I took in her shining face and very minimal makeup. Basically, just aquafor on her lips, clear mascara and brow gel, and a bit of concealer and powder where she thought she needed it. Although, she really didn’t need any. She had glasses on, and her outfit for the show, which she had thrifted herself.

“Mm, noo.” She shook her head and spoke in her silly voice. She ticked a bit, tilting her head to the side a few times. She had been ticking a lot lately, at least for the last few weeks leading up to the album release, the big album listening events, and now the Late Show.

I rubbed her temples and smiled, while she closed her eyes trying to focus. “You’re gonna be incredible. I can’t wait to hear you.” Her left eyebrow twitched a bit, then stopped.

“Let me fix my makeup. Is what I’m wearing okay?” I asked, walking towards the stairs.

“For me it is…but for your boss?” She joked, sorta.

“Billie!” I ran up the stairs, leaving her behind. “I’m raiding your closet!”

She followed and plopped on her bed, watching me walk through her giant bathroom, and into her giant walk-in closet.

I picked out something cute and put on a fashion show for her. She puckered her lips and raised her brows at me, showing her approval on the outfit. “You’re not supposed to look better than me at my own show, dude!” She shifted on the bed, placing one hand under her head, and fixing her baggy jeans.

“Shut up.” I laughed under my breath and plopped on the bed next to her. “Fuck, it’s been a day.”

She turned her head slightly to look at me. “You know I’m so proud of you, right? I want you to be happy. Whatever that means for you, I just want that.”

I nodded, knowing she just wants what’s best for me. We shared the same thought. “I love you.” I turned my body towards her, seeing her tick, rolling her eyes to the left a few times. “Enough about me. Tonight’s gonna be so fun, and you’re going to sound amazing, and then we can come back here and eat all the food.”

“Actually, I was gonna tell you, but your day was ruined by Danny Devito’s cousin.” Billie snorted. I smacked her tummy. “There’s this afterparty they’re throwing for Finneas and I, and I wanted you to come with me. But if you’re not in the mood, I’m totally down to just eat all the food with you here.”

“Nah, I’m down. It’ll be fun! I wanna forget about it all anyways.” I held out my fist and she bumped it with her hand.

“I’m not gonna drink at all so you can go crazy, go stupid.” She nodded.

“You never drink anyways.” I rolled my eyes.

Billie stared at me with her big, blues which were more of a gray hue at the moment. She seemed to have zoned out in thought. I slightly furrowed my brows and smiled at her. A few seconds later she opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by her phone ringing.

She put the phone to her ear. “Hey, whats up?”

I fidgeted with my top while she spoke on the phone, shaking the feeling that something was up. It might just be her nerves, but it also could be me overanalyzing and overthinking it. For weeks she’d been the most anxious and worried I had seen her in a while. This was the most vulnerable I ever heard her on an album, so I knew it was a relief when people adored it on release day. I worried about her a lot lately. Late nights, panic attacks, bad dreams, and lots of work planning out the upcoming tour… It wasn’t a shock knowing she barely slept.

“Everything okay?” I asked as she finished her call.

“They canceled today’s appearance for some reason, but they’ll probably reschedule it for next week. Now I get to be nervous longer.” She put a thumbs up in the air.

“It’s the universe. She wants us to sit here, watch movies, and eat all the food.” I sat up to change out of these clothes.

“Must be.” Billie hummed. She watched me take off my impromptu outfit, and threw some sweats and a shirt she had left on her bed from earlier. “I’ll order something.”

#billie eilish #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish fanfic #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish friends to lover #billie eilish x oc #hit me hard and soft tour #billie eilish wlw #billie eilish lgbt #queer fanfic #queer fanfiction #Spotify

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glitterypin · 5 months ago

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I wonder how Armando Iannucci feels about Malcolm Tucker being a comfort character for some people (like myself).

Like, I get the whole "you weren't supposed to like him" thing and "Peter Capaldi did such a good job that people wanted to see more of him" but I'm not just talking about Malcolm Tucker being liked or enjoyed, I'm talking specifically about him being a comfort character, as is defined below:

This is kind of the opposite of the intent here, isn't it? Malcolm Tucker is so evil, toxic and potentially violent that seeing him should make the audience recoil. His mere presence should make you feel stressed, when he suddenly shows up your brain should go "oh shit".

And yet, here I am, two days sick, burning up with fever, feeling like a train running me over might be considered an improvement on my physical and mental state at this point and all I can find comfort in is cutting up my favourite Malcolm Tucker lines from the entire show together - for no reason except that seeing him makes me feel calm and collected.

I haven't managed to decipher what it is about Malcolm that brings me comfort. I don't think it's just because he has Peter Capaldi's face. There are other characters Capaldi has played that I disliked immensely and even if I leave those aside, it wouldn't explain why Malcolm is more of a comfort character for me than even the Doctor is (honestly, I'm not lying).

It might partly be the swearing, I think I find great enjoyment in the wittiness and the creativity of the swearing, as a person who also swears a lot and considers it a form of strong expression. It might be that his anger and toxicity are so overblown, so extravagant, that I can't actually take them seriously. Like Malcolm breaking into a sweary rant feels akin to someone breaking into song in a musical. You just sit back and enjoy it aesthetically.

It might even be that he embodies a certain inevitability of things going to shit. Armando Iannucci said something along the lines of "in every episode, something goes a bit wrong and then Malcolm shows up and makes it even worse". That's very accurate! NOTHING goes right in that show. For four seasons and two specials it's just disaster after disaster in which "success" is usually just "the minister wasn't fired today" and Malcolm is often at the center of it all, making everyone miserable and everything ten times worse.

He's the opposite of a comfort character, really. A comfort character shows up and makes you feel that "it's going to be alright". For example, the Doctor is a good comfort character, because nine times out of ten, he beats the monsters and keeps everyone safe. Malcolm shows up, you know nothing is going to be alright and it's probably going to be a lot worse than has been implied so far - and that can be comforting, too, because it's not about the outcome being good or bad, it's about it being predictable. And, as I grow older, I find myself enjoying a predictably shitty outcome, because life does actually suck so, so bad sometimes and I can't always be confronted by narratives in which things end well, they often exhaust me. Sometimes, I just want to see things go to shit, I want to experience second hand anger and frustration, I want to look at a catastrophe in the eye and laugh about it.

I'm not sure I've got it, to be honest, I think there's more to why I like Malcolm so much and why the more he shouts and screams the more I feel a calmness washing over me. My own anger issues probably have something to do with it. I don't know. I'll keep thinking about it.

#malcolm tucker #the thick of it #peter capaldi #armando iannucci #gigi gets personal

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beanghostprincess · 1 year ago

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Rayleigh and Buggy reunion, but Rayleigh is being over the top judgemental about everything, like idk if u are familiar with crazy ex girlfriend the TV show but Rayleigh shows up and acts exactly like Rebecca's mom does. Overcritical of his life choices and dismissive of what he perceives as excuses coming from Buggy, because he knows Buggy's true potential and is annoyed with Buggy not living up to it. He gives Crocodile a once over and goes "is that what you found to replace Shanks with" and moves on and Crocodile doesn't even have a moment to compute the way he was just insulted because Rayleigh has moved on to criticising Mihawk's cooking instead. Worst part is, this all comes from a genuine place of love and care, Rayleigh is legitimately worried sick about his baby clown son of 39 years, but he cannot express that worry without being extremely invasive about everything. Buggy isn't even responding, he just shoots ppl apologetic looks and rolls his eyes when Rayleigh isn't looking because of course he does this obviously Buggy is never good enough for him and Shanks had always been the favourite (you ask Shanks or any other Roger pirate and they will tell you that Buggy is Rayleigh's baby boy and absolute favourite with utmost confidence, too bad the emotional constipation runs in the crew). Dinner is awkward as fuck, because Rayleigh makes attempts at being easygoing but his motherhenning nature irt Buggy shines through, his conviction that Buggy would be happier with Shanks by his side is making him be overcritical of everyone in that dinner and he keeps discussing the good old days and subtly hinting at Buggy that there is still time for him to go back to Shanks....and Buggy looks close to frustrated tears (and everyone agrees, Crocodile has snapped 5 cigars in half with his teeth and Mihawk is 5 seconds away from banging his head on the table).

Just overbearing father Rayleigh being stifling and trying to overcompensate for his shit parenting choices during Buggy's childhood and Buggy having his daddy issues expanded upon (and Crocodile and Mihawk gaining insight to Buggy's entire deal)

"Idk if u are familiar with crazy ex girlfriend the TV sho-" My therapist literally told me to stop watching it so much because it was affecting my mental health. So. Yes. I know the show. It's one of my favorite shows EVER. Rebecca is just like me fr my beloved. All of them my beloveds. The songs my beloveds. Don't make me go into CEG x OP because I won't finish. And as you can see, I did not listen to my therapist.

Even though I've always seen Rayleigh as the one who understands Buggy the most (Roger and him love Shanks and Buggy equally but it is quite obvious they put more pressure on Shanks to be more like Roger and that only made things worse by making Buggy's inferiority complex exist) and the one who stands up more for him and comforts him when needed, it is true that he might be more judgemental and he'd be worried for Buggy. Like. Think about it. Roger died and the kids (their kids) ended up alone and going their own separate ways. For Rayleigh, finding out Shanks and Buggy aren't together is just?? So weird?? Because they've always been together. Birds of a feather (if somebody mentions the song 'Two Birds' I am punching them because I can't handle that song today please). And it's just... Well, surprising. 'But as long as they're okay' but they're obviously not okay!!! And it's not that Rayleigh is judging Buggy. In fact, I think he would do the same with Shanks. The second Rayleigh sees Shanks he's already saying he drinks too much (even for a pirate) and that he's been acting recklessly and "What the fuck are you doing without Buggy? Is this because of Buggy?" / "I do not drink because of him. It's- It's not about him. He left-" / "HE LEFT AND YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING?????" / "I hate it when you get like this" / "Like what?" / "Like you want to still do something about my life. I'm an adult, thank you very much-" / "No, you're not if you keep acting this way". And I personally think Rayleigh would just be worried for the both of them and also feel extremely guilty because he wasn't there to fix things when they fought, the way he always did. "The second I left you alone you two start a fight that lasts two decades?" and he would say this to both of them and they would hate it.

But yeah, going back to Buggy I think he'd be worried because. Well. Have you seen Crocodile and Mihawk? I mean. They're kind of on good terms with Buggy now (more or... More or less. Kind of. They're not equals but they're some sort of weird thing and they respect and care for each other. More or less. It's- It's complicated. Don't ask) but they're still them. And Rayleigh can't help but see the situation and be like "I'm proud you made a name of yourself, kid, but you don't have to do this if you don't want to" (meaning: You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted) and Buggy takes it as an "You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted because you'd be safer with him" instead of the real "You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted because you'd be happier with him and this war of pride and hearts you have going on is dumb". And he understands Buggy needs to be away from Shanks to grow, but it's just so, so sad to see them like this when they used to love each other so damn much.

Also, I think Buggy would be going through the worst moment of his life and Crocodile and Mihawk would be so done for different reasons. First, they don't give a fuck about all of this drama. And second, they are starting to see Buggy more like a person and understand why he is the way he is, and the things Rayleigh is saying are bothering them a lot. They've been trying to make the clown move on from his past so he's useful for once (because when he believes in himself he's actually not a burden and more interesting) and now this guy (that they respect because it's Silvers Fucking Rayleigh) comes and tries to change things around here? Nope. Not happening.

So basically, what you're trying to tell me is that Rayleigh regrets raising the boys that way and now he's overcompensating and it's overwhelming for everyone, right? I- I love it. Great plot. 10/10. In character. Perfect. It makes me go insane. I love their daddy issues.

(Also, can we talk about how "This Was a Shit Show" and "What'll it be" are extremely Buggy songs??? Because- Because now I want to-)

#i absolutely loved this i have no words to explain how much i love this #one piece #buggy the clown #silvers rayleigh #red haired shanks #cross guild #shuggy #< target audience #i mean it's obvious i was taking it as romantic for them

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sometimesanalice · 8 months ago

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oooo okay i have a prompt 💁🏼‍♀️ for the au version of bradley and sweet girl (and the little nugget!):

❝ well, i do feel a little better now that you’re here. ❞

Jordan! You know how soft I am about them! (in every universe, but especially that one!) I hope you like this! 🫶🏼

You will never not be happy to see Bradley Bradshaw, but seeing him walk though the open door of the in-progress nursery might be the best thing that's happened to you all day.

It's not even the large styrofoam cup you spy in his hand from your favorite milkshake spot, it's just him.

"You look nice," you sniffle from where you're seated on the floor, screws scattered around you like confetti.

"And you look stuck," he says gently, giving you a soft smile. Setting the cup on top of the dresser he'd built for you a few weeks ago. "Need a hand, kid?"

You nod, sure that you look more than a little pitiful right now.

Bradley has to press his lips together to keep from chuckling at just how adorably dejected you look, sitting there with your large bump and splayed legs.

All you'd wanted was to get the crib you'd ordered put together. You were in your third trimester and feeling more than a little useless in your own body. You'd just wanted to prove to yourself that you were still capable of doing things on your own.

And it had been going fine, until you'd accidentally dropped the open bag of screws on the floor. Too many to squat and pick up, you'd carefully lowered yourself down, only to realize you couldn't get yourself back up on your own.

You'd given up after your fifth attempt, teary and frustrated, and called Rooster.

He reaches down with his strong, sure hands to help you up off the ground. Pulling you up so easily, like it's nothing, that you're reminded all over again just how pathetic you've been feeling lately.

"You smell nice too," you say glumly, realizing you haven't showered yet today, as he helps steady you back on your own two feet.

"Stop you're going to make me blush."

"I thought the morning sickness was supposed to go away," you sigh. "But that guy from accounting dropped by my office earlier today, the one I told you about with the bad cologne, and I was nauseous the rest of the day."

His warm, brown eyes remind you of home. And as tough as it had been to uproot your life, it had been worth it to be closer to your best friend and favorite person. You've only been here for a few months, but you already loved San Diego.

Rooster makes a sympathetic sound. "He's the worst."

"He really is. He's also a mansplainer, so that's two strikes against him." You look at Bradley, looking very handsome in the knit polo he was wearing, and feel even more like a wreck in your very oversized tshirt, the hem of your stretchy shorts just barely peeking out from underneath it. "But you didn’t answer, why are you all gussied up?"

He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes darting away from you. "I was, uh, on a date with someone Nat knows from her kickboxing classes."

"Oh. Oh no, Rooster. I'm so sorry." More tears flooding your eyes at the guilt of ruining his night. You thought you'd already cried them all out before he'd got there, but apparently you still had more left in you.

Bradley's stomach twists at the sight of your lower lip wobbling, kicking himself for not bending the truth because the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel bad.

"Hey now, woah," he says, cupping your face. "None of that, kid. You rescued me from an awkward date with a woman who was still very clearly hung up on her ex."

"Still, I really am sorry. I don't want my mess to become yours."

He gives you a look you don't know what to make of. "Why didn't you wait for me, kid. I told you I'd swing by this weekend to help with all of this."

Bradley had kept his weekend free for you, not that you'd asked him too. He knew you were stressed about wanting to get the nursery in order, one less thing for you to think about. He was excited to see it come together, was looking forward to hanging up that little felt seagull mobile he'd bought for you as a baby shower gift.

At that godawful dinner, he'd nearly shot out of his chair at the watery warble of your voice, concerned that something had happened to you or the baby. He was more than happy to help, he wanted you to lean on him for these things. You chose to have the baby on your own, without your shitty ex, but that didn't mean you were going to be doing it alone.

"I thought I could handle it. It's just some prefab wood and shit," you huff with agitation. "I wanted to feel useful. But then I dropped the bag of screws and well..." You trial off and just gesture to the spot he'd found you, you'd left the screws on the floor out of spite.

You're just so tired. All the time. Tired and overwhelmed.

The tears fall on their own again, a mix of hormones and emotions. "Bradley, what was I thinking? I'm going to be a mom. This little person is going to depend on me and I couldn't even get off the floor." You're embarrassed when your voice cracks.

"Come here," Bradley murmurs, tugging you to his chest. He holds you as tight as he thinks he can without squishing the baby. The firm, rounded swell of your stomach pressing against his flat one.

You tuck your face into the space at the base of his neck. His woodsy smell more soothing than lavender could ever be.

Rooster runs his hand up and down your back. "You're growing a whole person in there. You need to yourself some slack. You aren't a mess. And that little peanut is going to be so lucky to have you."

You squeeze your eyes tight and nod. Trying to remind yourself that it's ok to be scared, because you also were excited. Excited to meet her, excited to be able to finally hold her, excited to introduce her to your best friend.

You feel your little girl shift and move inside of you. You pull away taking Bradley's hand in yours and setting it over where she's pressing against you, "I think she's happy you're here."

It's something that he doesn't think he'll ever get use to.

"'Course she is," he rasps thickly. "I'm going to be her favorite." He's still holding your hand, not ready to let go. "And you? How do you feel, kid?"

"Well, I do feel a little better now that you’re here too," you tell him, before giving him the first real smile that he's seen from you all night. "Especially since you brought me a milkshake."

He laughs and kisses the side of your head before letting you.

"Who knew you were such an easy girl to please."

You flip him off without heat, as he thumbs off the remainders of the wet tear tracks on your cheeks.

"Thank you, Rooster."

"You know I'm alway here for you," he says, squeezing your shoulder as he goes to fetch your treat.

Once he gets you set up in the oversized chair with your milkshake, he tosses you his phone and puts you on DJ duty while he works on assembling the deep brown wood spindle crib that you'd picked out.

You watch as Bradley double checks each step in the instruction booklet before he moves on to the next one. It's the most studious you've ever seen him, his tongue peeking out every now in then in concentration. The way he takes his time building the crib for your little girl, makes your chest feel warm.

You're both so lucky to have him.

Every now and then he looks over at you as he fits the pieces together. It makes his heart twinge in an unexpected way when he sees you running your hand over your belly, looking down at it with the softest of smiles on your face.

You're going to be such a good mom, he thinks to himself. And he'll be there right by your side. The best Uncle Rooster he can be.

For her, for you.

After all, you've always been his family.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #it's a prompt party 🪩

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theillusionofpants · 2 years ago

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I never really had pets growing up. My mom lived on a farm when she was younger and I think she was fully saturated by the time I came around.

So when my (now) wife and I moved in together and she wanted animals, I was sceptical. She is much smarter than I am and managed to trick my dumb ass into just "going and checking out what is available" at the shelter. Low and behold, I found an adorable orange kitty as dumb as I am who booped me on the nose and I was in love. We dubbed him "Ernie" and adopted his brother "Bert" as well. They were....they were cats. They were annoying and hilarious and frustrating and were normal cats that did all the regular cat things that every person who has lived with a cat for the last 5000 years has dealt with. They moved with us and were a part of the family.

Ernie and I were lovers. He would post up in my lap and flop over and expect his luxuriously soft belly to be rubbed and I would reply. He wouldn't bite or attack, he just wanted some good scritches. We'd hang out and watch TV that way. When I was too busy to hang out, he would grumble like an old man all around the house, complaining.

The problem is that cats get sick. I remember one morning before work Ernie was having trouble keeping his head up. He normally wanted affection ALL the time, but this particular morning whenever I would try to pick him up, he would jump out of my arms and sit on the floor panting. For those of you who don't know or who have only had dogs, panting is a VERY bad sign in a cat. The majority of the time it means you need to seek medical attention right away. That's what we ended up doing and unfortunately in this scenario, it meant that we had to put him down.

It was a very strange experience as one who has never really had a pet. It is very quick but there is a definite moment where the light that was once your buddy is no longer in their eyes. Eventually you are just in a room with a dead animal and a stranger who is trying to ignore the fact that you're a blubbering mess. And you leave your friend there.

I was shocked how much of a mess I was. I couldn't even talk about him for months without tearing up. How stupid it is to have pets! They make you love them, integrate themselves into your life and your family, and then they leave you.

Anyway, it has been 6 years now since he's died. He was only 8 when he got sick. I guess I just miss my cat today.

The man himself

#Cats #Orange dummy #Smelly boy #Ernie pern #Seriously why do people have pets when this happens

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aritsukemo · 10 months ago

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Sick Day Chronicle | Illness Unease | Yuichiro Tokito

Summary: Sick days are the worst, but at least you get the pleasure of having your partner take time out of their otherwise busy schedule to take care of you! <3

Warnings: None.

A/N: Okay, I know I have a lot of request that I should be working on and I'm sorry to everyone who's requested something and has seen no result from me, but I actually have an excuse right now! ...That excuse being that my entire family, including me, is very, very sick. That being said, take this purely indulgent fic series that I may or may not complete in the meantime! :D

Day One: Yuichiro Tokito | Day Two: Shinobu Kocho | Day Three: Muichiro Tokito | Day Four: Tanjiro Kamado | Day Five: Aoi Kanzaki

"You should rest," The words were as funny to hear from you as they were frustrating. You're telling him to rest? You're telling him to rest when you're the one who needs it the most? When you're the one bedridden with a fever of nearly a hundred and two degrees?

"I'm fine," The words leave his lips in a soft hush—words which were once pointed, and yet lost it's edge as they slide against his tongue and out his mouth. That happens a lot when he speaks to you. Even when you're being the most annoying person ever, he just can't use that harsh tone he uses with everyone else..

Guess that's what love does to a person—especially one as madly in love as Yuichiro..

"You haven't slept since you found out I fell ill. At this rate, you'll pass out.." You remind, face scrunching up before immediately relaxing as a cool weight envelopes your forehead.

"You should worry about yourself," He says, but again, his words were as soft as the pillow you were laying your head on. He couldn't even muster that terrifyingly stern tone of his that Shinobu always scolds him for using with patients. That stern tone that—unlike his mentor-slash-boss, who's stern voice is doused in honeyed care and the warmth of a mother's concern—is nothing short of disgruntled and downright condescending, making whoever he's talking to want to bow their head to the ground and apologize for ever wasting his time by doing something as idiotic as getting themselves injured.

You're glad, ecstatic even to have such a privilege. After all, Yuichiro can be plenty ruthless when he wants to be and you've heard his scoldings are the absolute worst. To deal with that and all these symptoms you're forced to put up with would be torture..

"I am, but I'm also worried about you," You confess, "You're slowly running yourself into the ground. Everyone sees it, that's why Ms. Kocho and Aoi offered to take your usual duties off your hands today. They want you to rest."

Your words fall upon purposefully deafened ears and Yuichiro goes about stripping you of the towel that was keeping you somewhat cool despite just laying it across your forehead—swiftly going about the process of dunking it in the bucket of icy water next to your bed and wringing the excess water out of it.

He brings it to your head again, but this time, as he lays it across your skin, you reach up and grab his wrist. He resists, attempting to pull away only to fail miserably to which he huffs. Even weakened by sickness, you were still leagues stronger than him..damnit.

"Yuichiro, please listen to me," You said, sliding your hand down his wrist and then intertwining his cold hands with your warmer, damp ones and ignoring the way he grimaces a little at the feeling, "It's just a bad cold, nothing serious. I won't drop dead if you take some time to yourself."

Drop dead, a poor choice of words deeming what he's been through in the past. You quickly become aware of that fact and gently squeeze his hand as if to silently apologize for any damage you may have accidentally done. He squeezes your hand back, but the way he gazes down at you makes you unable to tell if he's accepted the apology or didn't even catch your slip of the tongue and was simply thinking of other things.

"I..just.." He hesitates, and that new swirl in his eyes tells it all. Like opening a book, you're able to see every word of doubt and fear whirling in those two sheets of minty hues before he's ever able to say them aloud. You wait anyway though, and he finally mutters out, "..I don't want that to happen again.."

Using the time he hesitated to think up a response, your quick to retort with, "And it won't. I'd never allow that to happen."

"You can't control an illness, Y/n," Finally you hear it. It's only there for a second and it's mixed with a heavy layer of desperation, but you heard it; that spurt of anger in his tone, "And if it isn't constantly watched and treated it can turn into something incurable and if that happens you'll—"

"That will never happen, Yuichiro—"

"You don't know that!" It's there again, but now it's ten times worse. His anger has meshed with anguish and turned to pure fury. It's odd for it to be directed at you. After all, anger this bad isn't even directed at his patients so for it to be directed at you, his lover, is a little scary, you'll admit..

"An illness is capable of anything and can bring even the strongest soldiers down! I've seen it happen more than once and if you don't shut up and let me tend to you, there's a possibility the same will happen to you and I can't allow that!" In his fit of rage, you notice the crystal lining of tears along his water line and seeing it felt as if an actual crystal was stabbed into your heart.

It wasn't often Yuichiro cried and he never let anyone besides you see him like that, not his even his twin brother. You can see why that may be. After all, the sight of his eyes full of tears makes him seem like some little kid no matter what emotion he shows with it. Seeing it makes you want nothing more than to pull him in your arms and protect him from the world—something your confident Yuichiro would hate with every fiber of his being..

"I- I can't allow that to happen..no matter what.." He whispers those words out to you and the cracks in the voice he tries to hide with an airy tone leaves it's own crack on your heart and causes it to ache. He sounds like a heartbroken poet...or maybe a kicked puppy would be more accurate.

"If I lost you I wouldn't know what to do..I-.. I'd—" And then you finally open your mouth to shush him, leaning over a little to grab his other hand as you do.

"Ssh, ssh.. Thinking stuff like that will only get you worked up unnecessarily," You try to mimic that pillowy tone he always talks to you in, adding a whisper to it to give your voice a more soothing effect as you roll your thumbs against the dorsal skin of his hands.

"It's really no need to overreact. With you working as hard as you have been these past few days, this cold of mine has barely been standing a chance. Plus, I know that as soon as Ms. Kocho has the time, she'll concoct something that'll have me bouncing right back up."

You tug at his hands suddenly and the unexpected change in weight cause him to tip over. Upon that happening, you immediately slither your arms around him and by the time his face hits your chest, he's completely caged against you—just like you wanted. After all, having him like this gives you the perfect opportunity to do something he hasn't allowed you to do in quite a while; play with his hair.

Your quick with undoing his ponytail and immediately take the leisure of running your hand through his hair—reveling in the way it changes from black to mint green and slips through your fingers with ease, "Like I said before, it'd take a lot more than this to take me out."

"I'm strong, Yuichiro. I can handle this. I've been in far more dire situations before, haven't I?" You repeat your action; starting at his scalp and slowly sliding your fingers through his pretty locks with a gentle smile stretched on your ablazed skin, "And for these past few days, I've had my amazing and skilled boyfriend tending to me without rest. I highly doubt that in the few hours he uses to rest, my cold will suddenly turn into something incurable like he says it will."

It must've finally dawned on him the position the two of you were in because he lifts his head and glares at you. His cheeks are dusted a cherry blossom pink and you giggle at the sight. He really did seem like a kid when he acted like this, but for the sake of your eardrums and emotional wellbeing, you decide not to voice that thought out loud.

"Dummy, you'll get me sick.." He grumbles, but still buries his face in the fabric of your patient uniform. Your grin widens further at both the sight and the feeling of the crack in your heart finally being mended by seeing him less distressed.

"Perfect! If you got sick, you'll have no choice but to rest and I'll get the opportunity to take care of you for once!" He huffs at your answer. Of course you'd say something like that..

It really was a stupid response though. To him, you take care of him all the time by making his heart flutter like the butterflies surrounding the estate and make his worries wash away like you did just now, leaving him to feel nothing but this light, warm feeling that he's slowly growing addicted to. You merely tending to him while he's sick pales in comparison to that.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

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naamahdarling · 10 months ago

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Today's medical update, please pardon any weirdness as I am using speech to text, and please excuse how long this is. I put an excellent picture of Fancy at the end for you. Here we go.

The shortest version is that my GP is going to try and centralize this. I have made an appointment for Monday. We are going to start over from the very beginning. New specimens, new cultures, everything.

The long version is kind of wild ride. It's going under a cut

My GP is now telling me that on two of the occasions that I went to Urgent Care or the hospital for a UTI, the records say that I did not actually have one.

This makes no sense whatsoever. I was symptomatic and I could smell it. On both of these occasions, I was told in no uncertain terms that I did have one.

I do not believe I was lied to at either facility. That means the only possibilities are that the testing was done improperly, the results were charted improperly, the records were sent over improperly, or I didn't understand what was being said to me.

At this point, with this absolute clown show that has been unfolding around me, this ridiculous circus where each act is fraught with nonsensical antics even more baffling than the ones before, I am literally unable to come to any conclusions. This is absolutely maddening.

And it's frightening, because there is something wrong, genuinely, and it might be something that they are unable to detect with the methods they are currently using. That's scary for a multitude of reasons, one of which is that they are not going to be willing or able to treat something if they do not think it exists. The other is that it opens the door to the possibility of their being further testing, which makes me violent to even contemplate. I want what is wrong with me to be simple, easy to treat, and relatively benign.

This has been frustrating, and drawn out, and I am sick of it. By itself it isn't enough to completely break me down. It's been almost unbearable when combined with the facts that I have serious concerns about the health of three of my cats, that my father seems to be worsening in his condition, that I have several other medical storylines going concurrently with this one, one of which is extremely stressful and frightening, and that all of this fuckery and running around has caused me to have to cut out most of the very, very few enjoyable and meaningful activities that are present in my life.

It has impacted my ability to be present for my partner, and for my pets, for me to sustain communication and relationships with people who are not my boyfriend or my best friend, and to simply fucking relax.

Also I can't fuck. Like, I know that this is the laugh at horny people website, but that is significant. Receiving not just physical touch but intimate touch is one of the very few ways I have of assorting ownership over my own body at this time.

I feel my identity has shifted from an internally defined "struggling person just going about their business" to an externally defined identity as a patient with a body that is sick and who must now structure their life around the demands of a system that does not care about me in the slightest, even though the providers usually do.

From the outside I know that this doesn't seem that terrible. I've spent the vast majority of this with no pain, and the times I have been in pain haven't crested a 3. If it weren't for the fact that I don't know what it is, it would be relatively trivial!

Unfortunately, because this isn't all I have going on, it's been really fucking things up. I space my appointments out so that I have time to recover between each one. I have PTSD, I have medical trauma, I have emotional reactions after stepping into a medical facility for any reason, and when things go wrong even in a very small way they can be intense. I manage this by allowing myself to have the reaction, experience all of the feelings, and come back to myself. It is a healthy way of doing things. It doesn't work, though, if I'm having to deal with one thing after another and no time in between to recover from it. This is essentially what has been happening to me for 2 months. Appointments, phone calls, messages, fixing mistakes, having to explain my history repeatedly as it gets ever more complicated. There's a lot more to it than just one appointment a week, which is already a lot for me.

I know this is something that chronically ill people deal with all the time, often for years, often for life, but the extent of it is new to me and very difficult to bear. My personality is vanishing under the weight of all of this crap. I do not feel like myself.

So yeah, sorry for rambling so much but this is just been...I don't even have the words to describe it. Nonsensical, but in an unfortunately consequential way. I've been going in circles all this time, apparently.

I don't really expect anybody to read all of this. But if you did, thank you. It means a lot to me. This place, and all of you, function as a sort of pressure relief, and a source of constant, pleasurable entertainment. I know many of you empathize with what I'm going through, and that helps me to feel less alone. That all by itself is so important.

Anyway, here's my cat.

She got to be on the puzzle table and was very smug about it.

#there is a cat at the end of this post #screaming endlessly into the void #I am screaming into the void #not the cat #just so we are clear

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