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Literature Text
A simple display of affection; the sound of a deep voice penetrating her ears, his pale skin brushing against that of a others being a few shades lighter. It all followed and floated under the obnoxious sound of machinery pumping and beeping-- a sign to show they were working to their full extent.
Too bad she, you, were no longer awake to hear it or for any of it to register on your mind. No longer conscious. Not but caught up in a world of silence, darkness and pure loneliness.
Dark, emotionless eyes trailed over the the body laid out before him, almost on display-- certainly as still as if she were stuffed and shoved inside a glass box, put out for all to see. Blinking as they wandered for the umpteenth time, his dark lashes brushed against the darker than usual skin that created a lining on the bags under his eyes. He had not slept. He had continued to sit in a cold, hard chair by her bedside in an equal cold room; not simply by temperature but the site as well. He waited for the moment of you awakening, to treat as such a doctor should the very second his patient came too. It was his duty as a man of his practice, of his specialty.
Hearing a small noise, his attention quickly snapped back to your sunken face. Vary faintly he thought he had heard your voice calling out, very softly he swore he had heard his name fall from your chapped lips. But that was impossible, wasn't it? You were no longer physically here, barely hanging by a thread, having to be fed by a life support to force you to stay. He wouldn't allow the sinister, welcoming arms of death to sweep you away from him completely. You were his, and no matter what he had to do, it was going to stay that way.
His tattooed knuckles brushed lightly against the top of your hand before his flattened out, allowing his palm to rest, his larger one engulfing you smaller one. His spinal cord jumped at the icy touch he received from your side, not fully use to it being this way. Leaning his top-half over, it hovered over the edge of the bed while his lips did the same to your ear, brushing against it as he spoke muted words to you. "You're so cold," He started, curling his fingers around yours in a tight grasp. "Keep your hand in mine."
Of course he knew his words feel upon deaf ears, but somehow, he felt his actions did something. Even if it was to entertain himself in a silly way, or that if you were still there somewhere, deep down, you would know he was still there, waiting for your return.
Moving his head from beside yours, it rested on your chest that continued to rise and fall in ragged, short movements, a definite sign of the struggle you were facing.
Too bad she, you, were no longer awake to hear it or for any of it to register on your mind. No longer conscious. Not but caught up in a world of silence, darkness and pure loneliness.
Dark, emotionless eyes trailed over the the body laid out before him, almost on display-- certainly as still as if she were stuffed and shoved inside a glass box, put out for all to see. Blinking as they wandered for the umpteenth time, his dark lashes brushed against the darker than usual skin that created a lining on the bags under his eyes. He had not slept. He had continued to sit in a cold, hard chair by her bedside in an equal cold room; not simply by temperature but the site as well. He waited for the moment of you awakening, to treat as such a doctor should the very second his patient came too. It was his duty as a man of his practice, of his specialty.
Hearing a small noise, his attention quickly snapped back to your sunken face. Vary faintly he thought he had heard your voice calling out, very softly he swore he had heard his name fall from your chapped lips. But that was impossible, wasn't it? You were no longer physically here, barely hanging by a thread, having to be fed by a life support to force you to stay. He wouldn't allow the sinister, welcoming arms of death to sweep you away from him completely. You were his, and no matter what he had to do, it was going to stay that way.
His tattooed knuckles brushed lightly against the top of your hand before his flattened out, allowing his palm to rest, his larger one engulfing you smaller one. His spinal cord jumped at the icy touch he received from your side, not fully use to it being this way. Leaning his top-half over, it hovered over the edge of the bed while his lips did the same to your ear, brushing against it as he spoke muted words to you. "You're so cold," He started, curling his fingers around yours in a tight grasp. "Keep your hand in mine."
Of course he knew his words feel upon deaf ears, but somehow, he felt his actions did something. Even if it was to entertain himself in a silly way, or that if you were still there somewhere, deep down, you would know he was still there, waiting for your return.
Moving his head from beside yours, it rested on your chest that continued to rise and fall in ragged, short movements, a definite sign of the struggle you were facing.
"You're so cold.. But you feel alive," His grasp tightened. "Lay your hand on me one last time."
Literature
Nodachi [Reader x Law]
You stuck your head into the room. You scanned it and saw Law, possibly napping, with his hands behind his head and his leg propped on the other, with his nodachi laying next to him. You didn't take Law as a heavy sleeper, so you tip-toed inside. You quietly snuck up to him, hand reached out. Curling your fingers around his nodachi, you silently lifted it up. And wow it was heavy.
You lifted it onto your shoulder and turned around to escape. Your foot was almost out the door when you heard Law shifting in bed behind you. You turned your head and found Law sitting up, staring at you.
"And just what are you doing?" he mused.
You gave out a t
Literature
Ice Cold (Reader x Aokiji)
"Does it hurt?"
"What are you talking about?"
"When you use your Devil Fruit powers, does it hurt? I always noticed that whenever you use it, even parts of your body that you aren't using will freeze up... I'm no Logia-type fruit user, or a Devil Fruit user of any kind for that matter, so I don't really understand these type of things..." You trail off, hoping that you're not bothering Admiral, former Admiral you remind yourself, Aokiji. The two of your are lying in bed, backs pressed against each other. He's not really the type for intimate touching or anything like that unless you two are going at it, he said that your skin was too hot. I
Literature
Temperature [Reader x Law]
You were with Law and Bepo in the submarine, watching them discuss the next route. You followed Law's fingers, as they pointed to a spot on the GPS. Damn, they were some pretty sexy fingers. Not that you were attracted to the fingers, but rather the owner of them. What you would do to tap that fine ass...
I mean, what? Pshh, you're an innocent angel, you don't think thoughts like that. You lightly blushed at your thoughts. Then Law suddenly stopped and looked up.
Did I say that out loud?, you panicked.
"It's cold in here," pointed out Law. "Someone turn the temperature up."
Without missing a beat, you quickly answered, "Why? You seem pret
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What--
What is this--
Why did i--
Screaming so loud all the parallel universes hear her.
Holy shit, I just wrote for Law for my first time.. And I don't even like Law all that much.Damn you, Cinnamon. The whole time I wrote this, I imagined your sexy ass as Law-- Shot.</i>
Well, uh, like I said.. My first time so it probably sucked. Plus, I had no idea what I was doing the whole time I did it.
Van full if angry fan girls run through my wall.
#ThugPirateLyfe.
Whut?
I no own. You no sue.
What is this--
Why did i--
Screaming so loud all the parallel universes hear her.
Holy shit, I just wrote for Law for my first time.. And I don't even like Law all that much.
Well, uh, like I said.. My first time so it probably sucked. Plus, I had no idea what I was doing the whole time I did it.
Van full if angry fan girls run through my wall.
#ThugPirateLyfe.
Whut?
I no own. You no sue.
© 2014 - 2024 bollur
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Dying now.